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Harbinger	By : madnad Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 4497 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Elder Scrolls universe & Skyrim belongs wholly to Bethesda. Original character Lyara belongs to me. I make no money from writing of this story and it is for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter List
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Skjor opened the door for her and they moved into a dark underground tunnel that opened into a larger cavern. The cavern was dimly torch-lit and in its centre was a stone well, and stood next to it was a werewolf. Lyara should have been alarmed, but there was something familiar about the beast’s eyes.
"I hope you recognise Aela, even in this form," Skjor said. "She has agreed to be your forebear."
"Why the secrecy?" Lyara asked.
"We do this in secret because Kodlak is busy trying to throw away this great gift. How can something that gives this kind of power be a curse?" he rhetorically.
"Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world?" he asked.
Lyara considered for a moment. In her homeland, the wolf had been her tribe's totem, and her name meant ‘wolf-woman’ in her native tongue. She had always admired the qualities of the wolf; fierce, loyal, and strong. Joining herself to a wolf spirit seemed the natural thing to do.
"Yes," came her confident reply.
"Very well," Skjor said. He brought out his sharp dagger and then grasped one of Aela’s massive fur-covered forearms. Holding it over the shallow stone font, he cut into her arm. Her dark blood rushed to fill the font, and Skjor indicated that Lyara was to drink from it.
Lyara cupped a small amount of the warm liquid in her hands and swallowed. At first she felt nothing, then a black mist descended over her eyes and her vision blurred. Her head felt hot, and she was aware of suddenly becoming taller. An almost unbearable heat burned through her muscles as they stretched and grew in size and strength. Instinctively, she ran for the door, feeling an unstoppable urge to run from the confines of this cave and head out into the night to bathe in the moon’s light.
The moon hung in the sky larger than she had previously seen it. She found she could see in its soft light as well as she could see in her human form during daylight. Odours she was previously unaware of filled her nostrils, the scent of metal, sweat, and blood.
Her tongue felt thick, and she knew instinctively she couldn’t talk. With a speed never before known, she ran past the dark quiet houses where the citizens of Whiterun slept soundly, and leapt over a wall avoiding detection from the city guards.
Onwards she ran, faster and faster. The strength in these muscles seemed limitless, and she agreed with Skjor that this was indeed a gift.
After several minutes, the black mist settled in her eyes again, and she slowed. Panting, she dropped to all fours, and she felt her arms contract and shrink. When her vision fully cleared, she noticed two things. One, she was cold and naked, and two, she wasn’t alone.
"I was starting to think you would never come back," said Aela, who was approaching her. "Yours was not an easy transformation, but you are still alive. We even have a celebration planned for you."
She threw a backpack at Lyara that contained her armour and some underclothes. While she dressed, Aela explained there was a pack of werewolf hunters, more Silver Hand, nearby at Gallows Rock. Skjor had apparently already gone on ahead and they were to meet him there.
Once Lyara was dressed, the two women headed towards the camp and slipped quietly inside the building. They met with a few pockets of resisting Silver Hand, but it proved no difficulty for the two competent warriors.
Having successfully broken into the Silver Hand’s lair, they silently crept further and further into its core. Lyara grimaced as they passed several corpses of werewolves that had obviously been part of the Silver Hand’s experiments. She found the whole thing sickening, and it fortified her decision that wiping this group from the face of Skyrim was a good idea.
Eventually, they entered a larger room where there were several Silver Hand gathered. The two women watched from cover for a moment, assessing the situation. Lyara picked off several before they even knew what was happening. Once their arrival was discovered, a cry rang out amongst the remaining bandits and they charged towards the two Companions. Aela yelled instructions to Lyara above the clash of her sword to kill the group’s leader, Krev. At the sound of the name, one of the bandits, a woman, laughed at them heartily saying that they were both going to die.
Lyara figured this was Krev, and so with a speed unlike anything the bandit had witnessed before, fired two arrows in quick succession straight into her heart. The woman flew back with a grunt, then lay still and silent. Lyara had no time to enjoy her victory as she was then attacked by two bandits at once. They were too close to fire an arrow, so she released her axe. With a yell of defiance, she swept the keen edge across the stomach of one attacker, who dropped his weapon, clutching hopelessly at spilling entrails as his life leaked onto the floor. Undeterred, the final attacker swung his sword high, meaning to cleave her in half, but she blasted him with flames from her left hand.
Panting from the adrenalin coursing through her veins, Lyara turned when she heard an anguished cry from her companion. Aela was kneeling over a body, and it wasn’t until Lyara got closer that she saw it was Skjor.
Through gritted teeth, Aela asked Lyara to revenge their brother. She said she would take his body back to Jorrvaskr, if Lyara would go kill the Silver Hand leader in Lost Knife cave.
Lyara felt deeply saddened at the death of the Companion, but she could see that her shield-sister was truly devastated. She briefly placed a consoling hand on her friend’s shoulder and quietly agreed, saying that she would leave immediately.
The other cave was about an hour’s run away, but she was in an environment she was comfortable with, and moved quickly through the forest. On her own, Lyara was able to sneak silently around the cave, and using her skills of stealth, she quickly dispatched the few Silver Hand she came upon before they even knew she was there.
The final fight against the leader was a tough one, as his close proximity forced her to fight him with steel and fire. He was stronger than her and his attacks, despite being blocked, were gradually wearing her down. She started to regret her decision to try this on her own, wishing she had Aela’s arrows or Farkas’s sword to support her.
Her opponent may have been stronger, but she was quicker. Ducking under a blow, she was able to step in under his guard, and stabbed him through the ribs and upwards towards the heart. She stood over the corpse, her lungs hurting from the deep breaths she took. As she turned to leave, she noticed pain in her thigh caused by a deep wound she had not even noticed receiving.
She tried to heal the cut, and although she made it better, it did not fully heal. She always found her magic was weaker when she was exhausted, and so resolved to try again later. She was too tired to worry about it now, so she made the journey back to Whiterun on foot.
By the time she reached the city, the sun was up, but the morning air was still cool. Despite the chill in the air, Lyara was sweating and feverish. By now, she had lost a lot of blood from her leg, and was barely inside the main gates when she collapsed, darkness claiming her.

Lyara woke sometime later, feeling disoriented and incredibly thirsty. She still felt hot and weak, but managed to gather enough strength in her arms to sit up.
"Ahh you are awake. Good. Good."
Lyara turned towards the voice, and spotted Timla, the caretaker of Jorrvaskr, sat in a dark corner of the small room she was in. It was all coming back to her, the fight in Lost Knife Cave, the cut on her leg. The old woman came forward, and handed her a cup of wine.
"Drink this," she said. "I will go and fetch Aela."
The woman disappeared, leaving Lyara alone. How long have I been asleep? she wondered. She could tell she was naked as soon as she sat up as the cool air in the room felt wonderful against her feverish skin. She pushed the blanket covering her down past her knees so she could examine her leg wound. A bandage was wrapped around her thigh which she carefully lifted to peak under. There appeared to be some kind of strong smelling poultice on there, the acrid odour bringing tears to her eyes.
The door flew open and Farkas skidded into her room, taking her by surprise.
"Are you okay?" he blurted out, then instantly blushed when he saw that she was sat naked, and uncovered.

Farkas coughed and turned his head a little. The brief glimpse he had caught of Lyara showed him smooth pale flesh, a toned stomach, and soft full breasts tipped with dark nipples. He struggled internally, trying to prevent his head from turning back to get another look. Thankfully, Lyara sensed his embarrassment and pulled the cover back over herself. He immediately felt more relaxed, and turned asking again after her wellbeing.
"I am fine, Farkas. It is sweet of you to ask."
He thought her voice sounded softer and quieter than usual. She was obviously still a little weak, but at least she had colour in her cheeks now.
"Did you want something?" she asked.
He wanted to tell her that he had been out of his mind with worry; that it wasn’t until he had seen her unconscious and deathly-pale body carried in to Jorrvaskr by two Whiterun guards that he realised how much he cared about her.
But he didn’t.
Being a Companion, it was not uncommon to lose people you cared about. The life was tough and hard, and not everyone survived it. All of the Companions were his family, and this woman was now his shield-sister, nothing more. He should treat her exactly the same as everyone else.
As one of the leaders, it was his job to send out recruits into dangerous situations. He couldn’t afford to play favourites, or be over protective.
"Oh, you know. I was just checking on our newest recruit, nothing special. I would have done it for anyone," he blurted, trying to appear nonchalant.
"I'm sure you would," Lyara answered softly with a slight smile.
Aela appeared then. "Get out of here you big oaf," she cried harshly when she spotted Farkas. "Leave the poor girl alone to get better before you start issuing more orders. Go! Shoo!"
When he tried to protest, Aela pulled his arm and kicked his behind, launching him from the room, then slammed the door after him. With the slam of the door still ringing in his ears, he smiled to himself. Aela had been almost as worried about the wood elf as he was. It seemed Lyara had a way of getting under one’s skin. He went to tell Kodlak the good news.

Aela looked at her fondly as she sat next to Lyara on the bed.
"How are you, sister?" she asked gently. "You have no idea how relieved I am to see you well again."
"I still feel a little weak, and surprisingly tired, but other than that I feel fine. What happened?"
"The guards brought you to us. You made it as far as the city gates before collapsing from the poison."
"Poison?" Lyara cried in alarm.
"Yes, the Silver Hand have been experimenting with different poisons to affect those of us with the blood. Delivered with a silver blade, it makes it impossible for our usually high regeneration abilities to work, as well as affecting your own natural resistance to poison."
"My magic wouldn’t work. I couldn’t heal myself." Lyara added, touching the wound gingerly with her fingers.
"You must have done some good. Without your healing ability you would have probably succumbed to the poison much sooner, and most likely have died. As it is, you were unconscious for three days."
Lyara gasped in surprise.
"I am very grateful for what you did for me, and for Skjor," Aela added, a shadow of grief darkening her eyes.
"In future, will need to be more careful around silvered blades, sister," the Huntress continued. "But for now, another day’s rest should see you back on your feet. I will arrange for some food to be sent down."
Just as the Nord was about to leave the room, she turned to Lyara. "You might like to know that he was very worried about you," she said indicating towards Farkas's room across the hall. "He wanted to sit by your bedside, but I wouldn’t let him, as the big oaf fills half this room. I told him to make himself busy, so he took your old battered armour to Eorlund at the Skyforge, and got some new armour made to the same size. It’s in that chest. I hope you like it." With that, she quietly closed the door.
Lyara carefully stood and staggered to the chest at the end of her bed. When she opened it, she couldn’t help but smile in delight.
Inside was a light fine-meshed mail and with that was armour made of a kind of dark-grey scale that she didn’t recognise, securely bound together by leather strips. It looked and felt incredibly strong, yet there was barely any weight to it. There were boots and gloves, and a helm to match. She would look pretty fearsome in this she thought. A truly wonderful gift.

The next day, she went to visit Kodlak as he had asked to see her as soon as she was well enough. He spoke to her sternly, but not harshly. He had been made aware of the jobs she had done recently with Aela.
When he saw her crestfallen expression, he spoke a little softer
"I understood that Aela is taken over by grief. I too keenly feel the loss of a good man like Skjor, but that the revenge was unnecessary. We have killed enough Silver Hand previously that these deaths were not honorable."
Lyara was saddened that she has disappointed Kodlak. She had begun to think of him as a father figure in her life, and his disapproval cut deeper than any silvered blade.
"Is there any way I can compensate for my transgressions, brother?" she asked, her eyes pleading.
He thought for a while before answering. "No, child. What is done, is done. Let the consequences fall where they may. I do have a task for you though, should you wish it."
"Yes," she cried. "Anything."
"I have been studying for years to discover a cure for our … curse. I know that some do not consider it so, but for me it means that when I pass into the spirit realm I will be trapped in the eternal Hunting Grounds of Hircine, and be denied entry in to Sovngarde."
Lyara did not believe her spirit went to Sovngarde when she passed, so this possible future did not concern her. She could see however, that it distressed Kodlak greatly.
He told her that he had discovered some ancient texts pertaining to the source of the werewolf curse. The power of the Glenmoril Witches was used to set the curse, and so it was their power that would help remove it. He asked her to go fetch one of their heads.
"It’s a grisly task, but will you do it?"
"Of course, brother."
She sought out Farkas, with the excuse of showing him and thanking him for her new armour. She was also going to ask him if he would like to come with her, but she couldn’t find him anywhere in Jorrvaskr, so she went alone.
It was a fairly simple task. The witches were almost blind, and so sneaking up on one with her bow would have been easy. However, she wanted to experience her new beast form again. On arrival at the cave, after stepping carefully from her clothes, she willed herself to transform once more.
The power she felt was addictive and the small part of her that was not beast warned her to not do this too often less she forget she is elfin, but the beast ignored her. She loped into the cave, sniffing for a scent of the witches. There was one close by. She ran around the corner and with a roar charged straight at the crone.
The witch turned towards the noise, and blasted lighting from her crooked fingertips. This stunned Lyara for a second, but it only served to increase her bestial rage. With one powerful leap she was in front of the harridan. Lyara's strong right arm smashed into the side of the witch, and took her head clean off.
Even in her bestial state, she watched with disgust as it bounced along the floor of the cave, and finally rolled to a stop with the opaque sightless-eyes staring straight at her, a thick pool of blood gathering at the base.
Lyara stood and panted, her heart rate slowing down. As she calmed, she could feel the beast’s hold relinquish and shortly after, her form returned to normal. Grabbing a handful of the crone’s white hair, she ran out of the cave and quickly dressed.
Her horse was a little skittish as she mounted it, and she was unsure if that was because of the head she was carrying, or if the animal could smell the scent of her wolf. She eventually got it under control and quickly headed back to Whiterun.

It was dusk by the time she arrived back in the city. She jogged through the market square and headed to Jorrvaskr, where she was shocked to see Torvar and Aela surrounded by dead Silver Hand on the steps leading to the large doors.
"What happened?" Lyara exclaimed.
"The Silver Hand attacked us," said Torvar. His face was dark, and Lyara noticed that Aela once again looked grief-stricken.
Lyara’s blood suddenly ran cold, and before either could say anymore, she ran up the stairs hoping to the Divines that Farkas was still alive.
When she got through the doors, she saw in horror that Kodlak was laid out next to the central fireplace. A dark circle of blood pooled around his midriff from a fatal wound. Njada and Farkas were knelt either side of his body, the shield maiden was sobbing, while Farkas's face was frozen in anguish. As Lyara stared, she heard Vilkas growl her name as he marched forcefully towards her.
"Where have you been?" he said in a voice thick with grief, and he finished with an accusatory sneer.
"I … I was doing Kodlak’s bidding," and she lifted the head of the Glenmoril witch as proof.
"Well, I hope it was important, as it means you weren’t here to defend him." His demeanour softened then, as if realising none of this was her fault, but he was still shaking with grief and anger.
"The Silver Hand finally found enough courage to attack. Now … the old man …. Kodlak is dead."
"Was anyone else hurt?" she asked, looking over his shoulder at Farkas knelt by the corpse.
"No," said Vilkas. "But they took all the pieces of Wuuthrad we had collected."
He walked closer to her, his pain and grief raw and written all over his face, as he snarled at her. "You and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief, and we will avenge Kodlak."
With a final glance over her shoulder at Farkas, who hadn’t even acknowledged her arrival, she followed Vilkas back out into the night and headed towards a Fort known only as Driftshade.
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Harbinger