Chapter 2: Ancestors Guide Us
The storyteller finished his tale, of their father Ysgramor and the Night of Tears, with a long sigh. Asha leaned forward eagerly, brushing aside a strand of her blond hair and waiting to hear the moral of the story that she had heard so many times. She shivered, feeling a chilly breeze from the coming winter winds blowing from the roof above. The stone floor wasn’t comfortable to sit on, but being this close was worth it.
The old storyteller pulled at his long beard, his fingers playing with the braids in his hair as he squinted at the firepit in the center of Shriekwind Bastion. Tiered levels of stone rose above the circular central firepit, releasing its smoke into a hole in the roof above. This opening made the room often chilly but perfect for large gatherings and bright in the daylight. The young children and some teens sat around the storyteller while adults stood on the levels above, watching and listening. Storytelling was time-honored, not to be forgotten.
The old man, Oran, came to himself and seemed to notice his audience. “What can we see from this past? The loss of family? That vengeance must be meted? The evil of the elven kind? I pose a rather different lesson to you, young ones. That of fear. Fear of what might be has led to many a war, massacre, and death. The elves feared what our ancestors might do. The Atmorans feared what the elves might do. Inevitably, when there is fear, one will act in self-preservation. If you let fear rule you…you will lash out at the world around you in blind defense. Do not let fear control you and your decisions.”
A silence followed then Asha applauded first followed by the rest of the children and teenage youth around her. Oran bowed and stood creakily from his seat. “Enough tales, to bed. The hunt begins early tomorrow.”
The dragon priest, Rukil, in charge of Shriekwind Bastion, called out from a tier above. “Thank you, Oran. He is correct. To your beds.”
Asha remained seated, waiting for the others to abandon the central hall of the bastion. A young man, recently achieving manhood and a year older than her, pushed through the crowded hall and stood beside her. His broad shoulders cast a shadow over her, his dark hair touching those shoulders. “Are you ready, Asha?”
“Almost, Wulfin,” said Asha. “I would speak with Oran before I retire. I’ll see you tomorrow for the hunt?”
“Alright,” he said. He hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Meet me on the overlook when you are done.”
He smiled and left her, disappearing into the fortress and to higher ground. As she smiled after him, she looked up to notice the dragon priest, Rukil, standing on the level above. He was staring at her in annoyance but didn’t react or move away. He seemed to be waiting for her to leave first. She stood quickly and approached Oran. “Master Oran, that was as wonderful as the first time I heard it.”
Oran chuckled. “You are never disappointed by a story, Asha. You make this old storyteller feel he’s still worth a good deal.”
“But you are,” she said. “Without your stories, our ancestry would be lost. How else would we learn to live in wisdom?”
His smile grew sad and he patted her cheek. “If only more heard and thought as you, child. Ancestors guide us from their lives before and continue to live in the retelling. That is how the mortal obtains immortality. But, you didn’t just come here to thank me, did you?”
Asha shook her head, her heart suddenly pounding as the moment came. “Not exactly. I was…I was wondering. Have you considered whom you will choose to apprentice for your work? Someone must carry on the stories and I only thought that-”
“Asha,” he spoke softly, cutting her off. He glanced up at the dragon priest Rukil as he continued. “Your path has already been chosen. You are the Intended of Wulfin and are to be one of the gatherers and mothers.”
Asha immediately pushed back. “Yes, well, I thought about that. I don’t see why I can’t do all of those things. I could still learn the stories in my spare time.”
Oran laughed. “Spoken as one who has never had or cared for children. They don’t leave much time, trust me. If they aren’t begging for help they are trying to kill themselves on the bastion parapets.”
“But I know I could,” said Asha. “I will just bring them with me. I have it all planned out-”
“Asha,” broke in Oran again. “Even if I wanted…I could not. Rukil has divided the labor and roles and he knows how best to serve the dragons. It is our way.”
Asha felt her bubble of nervous energy deflating. “But-”
A crack sounded and they both looked up to see Rukil had struck his staff on the stone floor above. Sparks still emanate from its base and the eyes of the dragon's head on its top glowed. “Daughter of Lorak,” he said solemnly, “It is time to leave.”
She bowed low, fearful to meet his gaze and to hide the immediate press of tears. “Yes, Lord Rukil.”
She took Oran’s hand, bowed quickly, and ignored his sad countenance as she hurried to the door. She entered the darkness gratefully, out of sight of Rukil. His power was terrifying even if he was their wise ruler. He knew best, she had been taught this since childhood. But why did this decision feel so wrong?
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She walked quickly past the sleeping quarters and made for the higher levels. Shriekwind Bastion was a solitary mountain with two exits, the main one on the south side and a small one on the north which she made for. She exited through iron double doors, nodding to the guards on post outside and, turned aside, made for the path that led up the mountain. Up the steep path, she tread until she reached the overlook, a spot for lookouts in the day. It was the perfect vantage point, a solitary stone tower overlooking the forests of southern Skyrim. In the distance, Lake Ilinalta gleamed softly in the moonlight and, on particularly clear days when the sun shone bright, she knew one could see the great temple of Summer Falls across the lake, prominently set on the eastern slopes of the Brittle Mountains. And, even in the distance of the night sky, the dark form of The Throat of the World blotted out the horizon, its peak reaching to the very heavens.
Wulfin was there, sitting on the edge of the tower with his feet dangling over, as he stared at the distant lake. He turned at the noise behind him and smiled. “Asha, come, sit beside me.”
Asha sat beside her Intended, trying to control her emotions so he could not see her upset. If he did, she knew he was kind enough to attempt to console her and would never leave her until he either solved the problem or soothed her distress. She had known Wulfin their whole lives and, thus, knew his ways. He took her hand and said, “Will you come with me tomorrow on the hunt?”
She shrugged. “Am I allowed to?”
He turned to her, confused. “Why not? I want you with me on the hunt alone.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of you being alone,” she said.
He shrugged. “Alone as in I’m leading it. But I can bring whoever I want. You are better at sneaking than most and I want my Intended to be with me on my first hunt. Soon, I will have gone on enough hunts to prove my worth and claim my place as one of the hunters…and your partner.”
She smiled and took his arm. Wulfin was excited, a newly made man at eighteen, and ready to establish himself in the tribe. His fresh stubble chin rested on her head as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “So, will you come with me?”
She looked up at him and smiled. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t miss your first hunt.”
He leaned in and kissed her and she could feel the passion behind it. He leaned in further, pulling her close, when she broke the kiss and pushed him back. “We might be seen.”
“Who’s here to see us?” he said, pulling her into another kiss.
“The entire forest, we are sitting above it,” she joked but kissed him anyway. She leaned into it this time but, as he pulled her in again, he nearly lost his balance and fell from the tower. They grabbed onto each other and she laughed. “Careful!”
He laughed as well and pulled her close, staring up at the stars. “I can’t wait. For it all. For the hunt, for our uniting, for our future.”
She leaned into him, feeling his warmth and strong body against her slimmer frame. It was worth waiting for this future. She had waited and prepared her whole life for it. Perhaps it wasn’t worth trying to change.
***
Wulfin was just in front of Asha, crouched low in the undergrowth with his hunting bow in hand. Asha held the pack, watching for any branches above that might snag it. They left in the early morning from Shriekwind Bastion, its towers disappearing into the trees as they descended into the valley. Now, the Jerall Mountains loomed above them and trees and undergrowth surrounded them. She knew this spot. A small pond should be just ahead, a prime spot for outings when she was a child.
Wulfin put up a hand and she fell silent. He pulled an arrow from the quiver and put it on the string. Asha peered past his shoulder and could see a deer, its coat a rich brown, drinking from the pond. Wulfin pulled back the string, froze, and then lowered his bow slowly. He backed up and turned, putting a finger to his lips. The trees creaked in a gust of wind and Asha listened. There was a humming sound in the air, like a swarm of bees. Asha tapped Wulfin in the back. He looked back and held up a finger, fear in his expression. Whatever that humming was, it scared him. He leaned in and whispered, “Spriggan.”
Asha froze, a chill creeping up her spine. She had heard of spriggans before but had never seen one. Shepherds and guardians of the forest, spiteful in nature, and extremely hostile to humans whom they treated as invaders. “Where?” she mouthed.
Wulfin shrugged and gestured to keep an eye out. They backed away slowly from the pond, looking around. Asha spotted a shimmer in the air from a tree just ahead and she pointed. Wulfin’s gaze flew to it as a green glow pulsed from the vague form. They both froze as the creature shimmered into view. It had elegant limbs of wood, a green glow pulsing from within its wooden chest. Its face was inscrutable, appearing human but frozen perpetually in an expression of disinterest that was more terrifying than any snarl. A swarm of green buzzing lights surrounded it, from gnarled root feet to its antlered head.
It wasn’t looking at them, staring instead at the deer as if standing sentry. Wulfin signaled to keep moving and they backed away slowly. Asha kept her eyes on the creature as she backed up. She felt a tug on her back and realized, too late, that her pack had snagged on a low-hanging branch. It snapped back into place with a crack and the two froze again.
The spriggan turned and vanished from sight, blending in perfectly with the forest. “Run,” said Wulfin, standing and bolting into the forest, pulling her up as he did so.
Asha followed him, hearing the buzz of the approaching spriggan behind her. They pelted through the forest, pell-mell. Her face was slapped with branches and toes stubbed on roots. “Woah! This way,” said Wulfin, taking a sudden and sharp turn.
Asha tried to follow but slipped on a soft stone and tumbled sideways. She slid over an embankment and tumbled down a hill. She struggled not to begin rolling but still spun twice before reaching the bottom of the ravine. The breath left her as she landed hard and she gasped, struggling to breathe. It took a long moment of staring up at the blue sky and the treetops before her vision cleared and she was able to sit up. She removed the bag from her back and groaned. “Shor, that hurt.”
“It looks like it, Atmoran.”
She turned quickly to see a man emerge from behind a tree. He was followed by several others, all dressed in similar garb. They wore a mixture of rough animal furs, hide, and little else. Bone and feathers hung on them as necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and hairpieces. They held crude weapons of bone, sharpened stone, iron swords, and axes along with a few bows and javelins. She turned to run but stopped when three more appeared to block her path back up the hill.
“Where are you running to, Atmoran?” asked the leader. “You should get to know your neighbors.”
She turned to face him and her untimely demise. She was trapped by the dreaded enemy of her people, the savage men and women of the Reach.