Chapter Text
4th of First Seed
Stonehills
It is early morning after another sleepless night spent catching up on recent events. Stonehills is a quiet little mining town, known for its iron exports. Since coming here, I've learnt that the mine is owned by Bryling, a thane in Solitude. The local leaders, Sorli the Builder and her husband Pactur, are responsible for running things here. It's a pretty place, located to the east of Morthal.
But I'm not here to take in the sights.
Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to leave Windhelm, I got a knock at the door. Upon opening, I saw that it was Lorana, the high elf. I was surprised because I had not seen her since my first day in the city. I suppose now I get that she just asked for me at the inn, but yesterday morning my mind hadn't connected the two topics. She wasn't there for chit-chat, though. She didn't talk, as usual, and just handed me a note. It was from Falion and it was short. Though it was addressed to her, the contents were equally as relevant to me. I'll just quote it here below:
Morthal has fallen. Posted at Stonehills with survivors. Come posthaste. Get help.
I don't know if I've ever been hit as hard by twelve words before in my life. Needless to say, my travel plans changed drastically. Lorana was going as well, and we took a carriage to Dawnstar. There, we bought food and walked to Stonehills. Knowing she didn't speak, I didn't try to engage her in conversation. It was the loneliest journey I'd ever embarked on. Though she was there, she also felt not there. I really can't describe it. And because I couldn't talk, I had to spend my time thinking. All I could think about was what had happened. Without facts, my imagination took over. I'm not going to include them here, but it went in dark places. Gave me anxiety I didn't know what to do with.
Arrived at Stonehills close to evening yesterday. We were greeted with suspicion by the people there, that is until I saw Lurbuk sitting amongst a group of miners. I waved at him to catch his eye and he made sure that we could pass through.
First thing he did was give me a hug, though.
He didn't cry, but I could tell he was hurting. I didn't know what happened, but I hugged him back. He was spindly for an orc with a head that seemed too large for his body. He was an artist, a musician. He flirted with emotion instead of danger. In many ways, we were similar. I guess it was why I considered him a friend when he first greeted me cheerfully in that gloomy little town.
When we parted, I asked, "What happened?"
He told me, too. The vampires had struck in the middle of the night. Well, one vampire, and a lot of lackeys. Alva had turned each of the Morthal guards into her slaves, along with Hroggar, Lami, Gorm, Benor, and the legate Taurinus. Falion, along with Agni, Idgrod the Younger, her brother Joric, Jonna and Lurbuk were the only ones to make it out.
"It's an army big enough to control the town," Falion said gruffly as we sat around in front of a fire inside the house of one Argi Farseer, sister to Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone.
"The Jarl couldn't make it?" I asked.
"It was her idea to stay back," Idgrod the Younger told me. Poor girl. She had her knees drawn up to her chest. "She had a vision. A dream. She woke us up and told us to go to Stonehills, to my aunt. We met Falion and Agni on the way."
"Lurbuk got me out," Jonna added, sitting beside the bard with her head on his shoulder. "Guards broke into the inn, but Lurbuk fought them off. Frying pan and lute. It was something to see."
I shook my head. "Of all the things that could have happened… what will they do?"
"Alva needs thralls to protect the town," Falion said. "And needs to leave some unturned to feed upon. She has turned Morthal into a self-sustaining vampire outpost. If left unchecked, more will flock there and it will be truly lost."
"Okay. When did this happen?"
"Last night."
I did a quick calculation. There was no way to retake Morthal in two days. It would need careful planning. We would need allies.
"If we can take back the town, can you cure the residents?" I asked Falion.
The redguard mage looked at Lorana, who nodded after a moment of thought. Falion then nodded at me.
"Lorana will provide the soul gems."
"Morthal will pay for them," Idgrod said, gulping. "I just hope mother and father–"
"Nothing will happen to them, child," said an elderly woman as she approached us with a tray of flagons. Mead. This was Argi Farseer, and she, too, had the gift of visions. "I have seen my sister in the dream between dreams. She is well, but in distress. Tonight, when I see her again, I'll tell her that her children are safe."
I sipped my mead in silence while the others talked in hushed whispers. It was evening, and a plan was forming in my head. I took out my map and studied it. I had Stonehills marked. Around the mountain, a little to the east, I had another destination marked. It was the Hall of the Vigilants, and Keeper Carcette had told me to visit when I was ready to join. I didn't know if I was ready, but I was going to go there. Tonight.
Plan made, I hurriedly wrote a letter and handed it to Falion. "I'm going to get the Vigilants of Stendarr. I know their Keeper." This news brought a smile to young Idgrod's face. "Send this letter to the Dawnguard. They'll come, too."
"The Dawnguard?" Falion looked genuinely impressed. "You know the Dawnguard?"
"Will they come?" asked Jonna, sounding somewhat sceptical.
"My brother will," I answered. "I don't know about others, but he'll come."
Lurbuk asked to see the letter, sighing. "My uncle joined the Dawnguard, too. I'll ask him to come as well."
Argi Farseer has gone to get me some bread for my journey. They have no horses here in Stonehills, so I will have to walk. Lorana is staying here. I don't understand why Falion reached out to her. She must have some really useful talents I'm not aware of.
As soon as I have the food, I leave. It's going to be quite a trek but I hope to be there by dawn. If Agmaer can arrive by tonight, then, Stendarr willing, we will be able to make a move by the day after.
Here comes Argi with the food. Off I go.
5th of First Seed
Hall of the Vigilants
I have made my case to the Vigilants. They're talking things over now. It is early morning. Past dawn. I've been here a couple of hours, at least. It is a hall, all right. Not too big, but not too small. There is a balcony outside where I'm sitting. I was met by a nord named Hallas who had seen me approach. He didn't know me, but I knew of him. Carcette had mentioned him when she came to Whiterun.
"You are the one who carried Mephala's blade away from Dragonsreach," I said, recognising his name.
He raised his brow. "Ah. You are the one who assisted the Jarl. The Keeper told me about you. Have you come to see her?"
"Yes. It is an urgent matter."
"Then, come urgently."
It was good to see Carcette again. She was training with some others but she seemed happy to see me.
"Hanse, right?" she smiled. "Have you come to take the test and join us?"
"On the contrary, Madam Keeper, I have come to ask for the aid of the Vigilants."
As quickly and as efficiently as I could, I outlined the facts of the matter. I started at the beginning and told her everything. Quickly, her smile turned into a grimace. She held up a finger, telling me to pause, and called over a few others. Hallas was among them. Then, she told me to tell them what I'd told her. I did. I went over everything. By the end, Carcette was shaking her head and Hallas glared at me.
"You should have sent us a letter when you killed that vampire," he told me. "This wouldn't have happened otherwise."
"I'm inclined to agree," Carcette said and I deflated completely. "It was an error in your judgement, but you're not trained to make decisions like this." She looked at Hallas. "I'm going to address the Hall. Could you give our guest a place to sit?"
Hallas didn't say anything to that, just nodded and led me out. Like me, he carried a sword. Vigilants usually used maces and hammers.
"Give me your sword," he said as soon as I sat down at a table on the balcony.
"Why?"
"I'll have Surana put a flame enchantment on it. Vamps don't like fire." He narrowed his eyes. "You are going to fight?"
"Of course!" I undid my sword belt and handed it over to him. "I owe it to them."
"You do." He was judging me and wasn't even hiding it. "Sit here. We'll come out when we're done. You walked all the way here?"
"Uh, yes."
"I'll get you some food."
True to his word, he did. Warm omelette, bread and butter, and some sausages. I nodded gratefully and asked, "Are they done?"
"No," he replied and went straight in.
That was an hour ago. It's approaching noon now. I really hope they come to a decision soon because I'm getting really anxious here.
Same day, night.
Stonehills
I rode back with the Vigilants a few hours ago. Didn't get the time to write because we got to planning straight away. When the Vigilants Hallas, Tolan, Tyranus and Keeper Carcette arrived at Stonehills, the refugees and residents alike breathed a sigh of relief. Room was made for them to rest in Argi Farseer's house, but they refused. They had brought tents with them, knowing the size of Stonehills. We just finished telling the Vigilants the layout of Morthal and they drafted a few plans of attack. The Dawnguard folks haven't arrived yet so we can't start moving. They'll be here soon, I hope.
True to their word, the Vigilants had enchanted my sword. Whenever I unsheathed it, I could see veins of amber in the steel. It looked pretty, but it was hot to the touch. It would cauterise a wound instantly, which would be good for living beings because it stopped them from bleeding to death. The undead, who had no such issues, would just burn. That's what I wanted. They enchanted it with the soul of a skeever, I think. Which means it won't last very long. Five or six hits, and the fire would be done. Which was just as well. It will have served the purpose.
Lurbuk and I ate dinner together afterwards. The orc had been quiet since I'd arrived and I asked him what had happened to his good cheer.
"You saved your fair lady, after all."
He chuckled. "I did, didn't I?" Taking in a deep lungful of air, Lurbuk gently lowered his plate of porridge onto the ground and interwove his fingers over his right knee. Leaning back a little, he said, "Being the son of a chief comes with a lot of responsibilities. Usually, the chief is defeated in combat by someone, who then becomes the next chief. Often, it is their son who fulfils this role. From a very young age, my father groomed me to succeed him. He trained me in combat–in the old ways of the orcs. The battle rage, controlling and honing it…" He shrugged. "I'm not a warrior. I never had the body for it. Didn't have the mind for it. What my father expressed as battle rage, I perceived as passion."
I nodded. "Your passion for music."
"Exactly. I left when I realised he would never stop trying to chisel me into a statue I couldn't be. I left before I ran out of stone to shape." He closed his eyes and smiled. "I'm not good at music. It's true, don't protest. I love it so much, but my talents don't line up with it. Yet, when the guards stormed the inn, when I picked up the lute and pan and fought them off… I realised that the lessons my father had drilled into me had saved me. Me and Jonna." He picked his plate back up. "No matter what I do or where I go, I will always be more talented at something I hate, because I was moulded by someone I hate. And I hate myself for being so weak that I can't stand on my own merits."
"What is it about sons and fathers?" I asked aloud and wrapped an arm around my friend's shoulders. "I have issues with my own father, but nothing close."
"Such is life, I guess."
"I guess, but Lurbuk, you do bring joy to people."
He shook his head. "They would sooner pay the Dark Brotherhood to kill me than accept me."
"Then you're just not playing for the right people." I patted his back. "Morthal is a small town. Mostly nords. You're an orc. Maybe focus on playing traditional orcish music instead of trying to please nords. I know you want to be accepted, but if you don't embrace where you're from, you won't be accepted where you're going."
He looked at me when I said that. Then he nodded, grinning. "That was a good line."
"Right? I heard it from an argonian I met in Windhelm." I smiled. "World's a big place. I refuse to believe there aren't people out there who won't enjoy your music."
"Traditional orcish music, huh?"
"Was your father that big of a bully that you don't like your own culture anymore?"
"I love being an orc." He shook his head. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
"Then focus on what you love. Express it. I'm sure it'll work out somehow."
"Doesn't hurt to try, right?"
"No, it doesn't." I paused. "But d'you think you could bring the warrior to Morthal? For whenever we attempt to take it back?"
He looked at me curiously. "Morthal is my home, Hanse. It would dishonour me as an orc if I did not fight for it."
It's people like Lurbuk, really, who change the world. Passion, empathy, and a willingness to stand up for others. That's all life asks of us, and it's something we very often forget. I'm going to try to sleep now. I hope Agmaer shows up tomorrow. This talk with Lurbuk has really made me miss him.
Nine willing, they all arrive safely.
6th of First Seed
Stonehills
In my letter to Agmaer, I had told him to not wait and just come with as many people as he could. That's what he did early this morning. Three members of the Dawnguard–Agmaer, an orc I assumed was Lurbuk's uncle, and a redguard I knew to be Isran from Agmaer's previous letters–arrived on horseback. Among the three of them, Agmaer had the best reunion. When I saw him, I went and wrapped him in a hug. He was looking smart in that armour of him. It had been close to a month since I'd seen him last and he had bulked up a little since then. We didn't let go of each other for a while. Neither did we say anything. There was no need. With him there, I sort of felt complete. Finally, it felt like my thoughts and actions were balanced.
It was only when we released each other did I see tensions among the others.
"Uncle," Lurbuk told the Dawnguard orc. It was the most subdued I'd ever heard him be.
The orc, equally impassive, said, "Nephew."
Then, they nodded at each other and walked away. More telling was how Isran approached the other Vigilants. He solemnly shook hands with Keeper Carcette and exchanged a nod with Tolan and Tyranus. When it came to Hallas, he snorted.
"I remember someone saying that the Dawnguard was doomed to fail," he said, slightly heatedly. "And yet you ask for our help."
"We did not." Hallas pointed at me. "He'd already contacted you before I could stop him."
Agmaer winced. He explained that Isran had been a member of the Vigil. He branched off to create the Dawnguard because he wanted a dedicated force fighting vampires. However, Keeper Carcette had said that it didn't make sense to spend resources on getting Fort Dawnguard renovated and battle-ready. Ever since, there has been a bit of bad blood between them. Isran, especially, thinks he has much to prove to his old associates.
This was not the time to renew old rivalries. I was counting on them to be professional and, thankfully, that little exchange was the end of it. We went over the map of Morthal with the new arrivals and told them the kind of fight we were expecting. Most importantly, I made it very clear that none of the turned citizens–save for Alva–ought to be killed. Neither the Vigilants nor the Dawnguard liked that idea very much.
"It would be much easier to burn them to ash where they stand," Vigilant Tolan said.
Isran harrumphed. "For once, you and I are in agreement."
"But Falion has a cure," I insisted.
"And vampires exist to be eradicated." Hallas fixed his unflinching glare upon me. "No quarter. No mercy."
"The Vigil has none to spare," echoed Tyranus.
I clasped and unclasped my fingers. "I understand that that's how you people work, but there's nothing to gain by turning Morthal into a graveyard. If you truly believe in Stendarr's teachings," looked between the Vigilants and the Dawnguard, "then Mercy should be the first approach, no? That's what He teaches us."
"You can't show mercy to those that welcome fell powers into their lives," Hallas countered.
"That's what I'm saying: kill Alva, not the others." What was so difficult to understand? "She's the one who started this curse. You're all experienced vampire hunters. You've all felt its allure. Is it easy to say no to?" I paused only to breathe. "I felt it, too. It was only luck that I was able to get away both times. And if you say that those people in Morthal were weak for falling to Alva's charms, then I will slap you."
I didn't know where this anger was coming from. I only knew that I meant every word.
"Killing is easy. I killed a vampire. I felt horrible afterwards. You know why? Because I saw the husband mourn. Because I thought about the kid still waiting for his mother to come home. I could have given them that. And we still can! Isn't it worth trying?"
Only silence greeted my plea. Agmaer looked like she wanted to say something but kept glancing at Isran. He was new and speaking would get him into trouble. Isran himself looked incredulous, Carcette shook her head, and Hallas… Hallas just glared at me.
I was beginning to feel despair for the people of Morthal. These maniacs would slaughter every last soul if I couldn't convince them. I'd failed. I might have given up, too, had I not felt someone silently come to stand by my side. Looking to my left, I saw that it was the high elf with a pretty face and long hair. The seller of soul gems and enchanter of things.
Lorana.
"The current Jarl of Morthal is their hostage," she said in a crisp, cultured tone. Her lips didn't move much while she spoke. "Tell me, which of you is willing to shoulder the responsibility for killing her, if she has been turned? Which of you is willing to stand before the inquisition in Solitude and say it was your decision to kill Idgrod Ravencrone without trying to see if she could be saved first? Hmm? Isran? Hallas?"
When nobody said anything to counter her, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin ever so slightly. It was amazing.
"That's what I thought. We will follow Hanse's way. Falion knows a cure. None of you do. Am I wrong?" Silence again. "Then it is settled."
Without wasting another word, she went and sat back down beside Falion. I almost wanted to clap but didn't. That would've been rude.
It was later, during the afternoon when everyone was inspecting their equipment, that Isran found me. He is a big, bulky man. The shadow he casts is large, and having it fall over me while I was polishing my sword did frighten me a bit.
"You have a lot of ideas, Arnisson," he said when I looked up. His imposing stature, coupled with his deep voice and hard eyes, made me gulp. In his hand he carried a sack. I was afraid to know what was inside it. "Make sure they don't run away with you. Your brother tells me you're talented with the school of Restoration. Is that so?"
"I, uh, I can cast a few spells from that school, yes."
He narrowed his lids. "What's your strongest healing spell?"
"Well, I know how to close wounds and turn undead…"
"That'll do." He dropped the sack on my lap. "Here is a tome that will teach you a few more useful spells. You will learn how to wield sun fire and call upon Stendarr to bless you with an aura that burns and turns undead. Now, give me your sword."
"Ah, thank–wait what?"
"I started my life as an apprentice to a smith." He held out his hand and flexed his fingers, asking for my blade. "I'm going to silver your sword. Silver weapons are more effective against unholy creatures like the undead, shapeshifters, and vampires."
"Oh, um, okay." He didn't seem like a person with a lot of patience, so I handed him my sword. An enchantment would run out, but silver alloyed to the sword would stay forever. At least, that's what I learnt later. And since Skyforge steel doesn't rust or break, I wouldn't have to worry about it getting damaged, either. "Thank you. For the spells."
He grunted and turned away. "You have until tomorrow to get used to them. Stop wasting time and get practising."
I was not about to disobey a professional vampire slayer, so I started doing just that. The sun fire was similar to holding flames, just without the heat. In my hand, the ball of sunlight felt almost cool to the touch. It was a spell that worked by having me aim and hurl it at a foe, but I knew that mastering how to aim it at targets was not something I could do in one day, so I decided to focus on the other spell: Stendarr's Aura.
I had to admit, I was not expecting a shimmering shield of light to surround me. It felt like a ward, but I didn't have to keep feeding it magicka constantly. What was even better was that it moved with me. It was a great spell. I could cast it and then cast something else. Like Turn Undead. Or Close Wounds. It was insanely helpful. Vigilant Tolan told me that it was a good spell to have in one's arsenal when he saw me walking around with His Aura surrounding me. Said every Vigilant had to learn that spell. I like Tolan. He seems nice.
It was Agmaer who brought me my sword afterwards. He smiled.
"I gave it a few swings to practise," he said with a sheepish chuckle. "Good stuff. Really good stuff. Think you can get Eorlund to make me one of those, too?"
If I spoke to Kodlak, perhaps he'd be able to. Especially if I brought news that the vampirism cure was successful. To do that, though, we'd need to keep the townsfolk alive. But I doubted he would use it. He still kept Pa's axe at his side. I pointed at it.
"Silvered?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah." He patted his trusty weapon. "Isran alloyed the bit with steel. Haven't struck a vampire yet, but they tell me it works just fine."
We got to talking afterwards. Swapping tales. Him about his training. Me about everything I've written in this journal so far. It's a private conversation, a talk between brothers, so I won't summarise it here. Not because it wasn't important. It was. Not everything belongs in this journal. Suffice it to say that it felt good to see him. I was happy that he was doing well and seemed to be fitting into the life he'd chosen for himself. As a brother, what more could I want?
It is evening now. The children are sleeping. The Vigilants have just retired to their tents. Isran warned me against staying up too late but I don't know if I'll get any sleep. We will start moving while it's still dark to make sure we reach the fringes of Morthal at first light. This is to take advantage of every ray of light we can.
The plan for tomorrow is to have the Vigilants and the Dawnguard tackle the town residents while a small unit consisting of Agmaer, me, and Lorana will break into Alva's house and deal with her while she's in her coffin. This was because, according to Carcette, Agmaer and I are the least trained of the bunch. We fight with our full might and don't exercise control, which is something only seasoned warriors can do. Since they have a lot more fighting experience than us, they would engage the people and make sure they didn't die.
"Fight the opponent you will not need to hold back against," she urged Agmaer and I. "Seek out the vampire. Kill her in her coffin."
Falion and Lurbuk will handle the Jarl who is being held hostage in the longhouse. The plan is for Falion to approach through the marsh while Lurbuk keeps whoever is in there distracted with his… song and overall personality. Falion promised that he will show the townsfolk exactly why his magic is needed in Morthall. I believe him.
Isran has warned us that Alva will keep her strongest warriors closest to her to protect her coffin during the sunlight hours. This means that facing Legate Taurinus will be a necessity. However, when I brought this up, all Lorana said was, "Don't worry."
She doesn't speak a lot, that one. Honestly, even after we found out that she could talk, she didn't say a single word all day. So, when she does speak, I can't help but trust her. If she says we don't have to worry about him, then she must have some sort of plan. I know that Agmaer and I will be gunning for the vampire. Come what may, we'll kill her. By the Nine, I'm actually thinking about murder.
Merciful Stendarr, watch over me. Surround all of us who do your work in your mercy. Give me the strength to bear whatever happens tomorrow. Give all of us the courage to follow through on this duty.
7th of First Seed
Morthal
We have been in position for a little over half an hour. Isran wants to wait until we have more light and I agree with him. Morthal is already quite shady given its marshy surroundings. A little more light won't hurt. While we wait, we observe the town from atop our hill.
It's amazing, but you can't tell at a glance that anything is wrong. I can see patrolling guards and people working at the mill. It looks normal. Which I guess is the genius of it. Alva was living among them without giving herself away. Now, Morthal lives among the rest of Skyrim. It's frightening.
I guess Lorana could tell that I was afraid. Not just of having to fight, but in general. I was afraid for me, for everyone else fighting, and even the townsfolk. I was wondering whether we shouldn't have sent word to the Companions. This was the sort of thing they handled, anyway. Because if we fail, if we die or get turned, then nobody would even be aware that this has happened. Argi Farseer knows, but she's old. I can't expect her to travel to Whiterun or Solitude to get aid. She can send letters, but if people don't take her sister seriously because of her visions, and Idgrod is Jarl, who will seriously consider her request?
I had a lot on my mind and the more time we spent watching Morthal, the more frightened and anxious I got. It was dawning on me just how much was at stake, and I kept thinking in circles and adding more to it. I was almost paralysed with my own thoughts when she tapped me on the shoulder. As soon as I turned she cast a spell right into my chest.
It made me feel… good. Warm. It stopped my thoughts in their tracks. I was longer bouncing from one topic of anxiety to another. It was the calmest I'd felt since this whole story had begun.
"Thank you," I told her, but she shook her head and cast another spell. This was in conjunction with Isran giving us the signal to get into position. Which was a good thing because I feel ready. I feel warm and excited and not afraid. If this is Lorana's magic, then I hope it lasts until the charge because I don't want to risk losing my nerve.
It's time.
Same day, evening.
Today will go down as one of the weirdest days in my life. And probably among the most historic in the history of Hjaalmarch. Let's see how much I can put down here before I pass out.
Okay. So, the signal to attack was the charge of the Vigilants. Vigilant Tolan would utter a Battle Cry to stun the forces while they attacked. That would be our cue to run for Alva's house. That much, at least, went according to plan. As the forces of the Vigilants and the Dawnguard clashed with the enthralled townsfolk and town guards, our little party simply ran past. While I did so, I saw Isran breaking a guard's thigh with his hammer. While I didn't stop, it made me grimace. Sure, he wasn't killing anyone but… well, an injury is better than death. If he can't stand, he can't fight. Nothing I can't heal afterwards. That was my rationalisation at the time.
Agmaer was ever at my side. Lorana, though, was gone. I couldn't see her anywhere, but we didn't have the time to waste looking for her. Running through the boardwalk as bodies screamed and fought and fell all around me was an experience like no other. One I don't want to repeat. Agmaer had assumed that the door would be locked, so he didn't bother slowing down as we approached Alva's house. Instead, he jumped towards it and raised both feet, drop-kicking it off its hinges.
That also meant he was on the ground and I was the first person through the door frame. Through the door and almost into the Legate, who was already swinging his sword. I had mine unsheathed but I was surprised by just how quick the Legate moved in to attack. By the time it dawned on me that I would need to raise my shield to defend, it was already too late.
And that is when something spectacular happened.
It was as if the fabric of reality were being dispelled because after a small burst of colour, Lorana appeared in front of me out of thin air itself. She raised her left hand and magically arrested the descent of the sword. Then, with what I now know to be a telekinetic blast, she sent the Legate flying into the far wall. She then jerked her chin towards another door, which I assumed was the cellar. By then Agmaer had risen to his feet, so I didn't stop. Now, the battle-song was flooding my veins and I rushed down the stairs after kicking down the door, Agmaer at my side. In the cellar, there was a coffin. There was no lid, and I could see Alva lying there with her hands folded over her chest and her eyes wide open. Beside her hovered Hroggar with a battleaxe in hand. He turned towards us when he heard us and shouted something. Alva began to stir.
"Go," shouted Agmaer as he rushed ahead and launched himself at Hroggar. I saw his shoulder collide with Hroggar's gut but by then Alva was sitting up. Her hateful red eyes were aimed at me as she swung her legs out of her coffin and pointed a palm my way. Red magicks gathered and flew at me and I felt my rage still slightly. I felt lightheaded. Weak. But I was moving too fast to stop.
I had my shield out before me. Behind my shield, hidden from her view, was my sword. I had it aimed right at her and as soon as she was on her feet, I leapt at her. I heard Hroggar wail. I heard Alva scream. I opened up the shield face and saw her eyes widen when she saw the sword moments before it pierced her chest. She dug her nails into my neck but the momentum of my movement allowed me to slam her into the wall. My sword went through her clothes, her skin and bones and muscles, and came out the other side, stabbing into the wood and holding her in place.
"Bastard!" she screamed, but I was too groggy to do anything. I saw her mouth open wide, saw the flash of her fangs and on instinct I cast the newest spell I learnt. Stendarr's Aura.
Alva screeched as soon as the sun fire touched her. We were almost hugging so the effects were potent, I think. She tried to peel herself off me, but there was only a wall behind her and, being pinned to it like a butterfly, she was going nowhere. Her screech then took on a deafening quality and I thought my ears would start to bleed. At that moment, I truly believed she was going to take me with her by ripping my throat out because I felt her nails curl into my flesh. Any more, and she would have wrung my neck.
But… I have always said that Agmaer and I share some sort of connection. I can tell what he's feeling, tell what he's thinking, without him saying a word. We always caught each other when we were playing hide and seek. Whenever he was around, I could anticipate his next move, and he could do the same to me.
I felt him move behind me more than anything. My eyes were fixed on Alva's and I was bleeding out too much to hear anything over her screech. The corners of my eyes were starting to darken… but I fell to my knees. Still, I kept my eyes on Alva. The moment my face disappeared from her view and she saw my brother swinging an axe at her neck, I remember her closing her eyes. When her hold on my neck loosened, I dropped to the floor. I knew I was going to faint, so I didn't panic. In fact, seeing Alva's body turn into a pile of dust on the floor… that made it worth everything in the end.
How long I was out, I don't know, but I awoke on the floor of the inn with my head on Lurbuk's lap. It was from him that I heard that he had won the day. Except for Alva, nobody had died. There were several injuries, and some of them were serious, but the Vigilants were all powerful healers. Keeper Carcette herself had tended to my injuries. There would be scars from Alva shoving her claws into the sides of my neck, but no disease. No vampirism. They'd given me a potion.
Falion had already begun turning the residents of Morthal back. Without their leader, the fledgeling vampires had all lost the will to fight. Jarl Idgrod was fine. She was the first to go through the magickal cure promised by Falion, and though she was weak, she would be healthy enough to continue being Morthal's Jarl.
That was a few hours ago. I'm well enough to sit now as I watch the town slowly recover in front of my eyes. I don't know what will happen next, but it feels like all of us together have on a journey more horrific than I could ever have imagined a month ago when I made my first journal entry of the year. And what a month it has been so far. I was just reading the beginning of this journal. It makes me smile. The things I write about have changed so drastically that I can scarcely believe that only a month has passed. It's amazing. Not always in a good way, but I've seen and done so much that my view of the world has been distorted beyond repair. I don't know if I can go back to being a simple farmer in Whiterun anymore. There is too much going on in the world for me to not try to do something about it. I might not be the Dragonborn of legend, but I can help. I have it in me to do that. If I can make life easier for one person a day, then it's something I owe myself to do. That's what I think, anyway.
Ah, well. I'm going to put this journal away for now. I'm well enough that I want to be productive, contribute to everything going on around me. Lorana sustained some injuries during her fight with the Legate but she is sitting far away from everyone else. Maybe I'll start with healing her. Talk to her a little.
After that? Who knows.
9th of First Seed
Whiterun
It's done. It took about four hours, but it's done. Pa's ashes are in the urn now, and it will stay beside Ma's in the Hall of the Dead. Agmaer and I had a long conversation about it before leaving Morthal yesterday morning and decided that this was the best way. It was cruel to subject Pa to this life of living inside a coffin. For all intents and purposes, Psymia had crushed out whatever life remained in him long before everything went bad. To release him from those memories, to set him up beside the woman he'd loved in life was the kindest thing that we, as his children, could do.
Keeper Carcette came with us to Whiterun. Together she, Danica, and Andurs removed the wardstone and… purified my father, I guess. Agmaer and I weren't allowed inside at the time, for obvious reasons. The ritual took four hours, and he was naught but dust at the end of it. Not unlike Alva. Agmaer and I had promised each other that we wouldn't ask them for details, and we didn't. We sat in silence in the Temple of Kynareth, far away, while they worked. Keeper Carcette came to fetch us once it was done.
It feels strange. Pa's gone. I thought I would be sad, and I am sad, but I feel… happier than I feel sad. Less guilty. I would have felt a whole lot more guilty if I'd kept him locked up in a sarcophagus for who knows how long. Besides, it wouldn't have been possible to transport him to Morthal to be cured. He was too far gone.
But… that also wraps up everything in Whiterun for me. I gave my notice to Idolaf, said he would have to find some other farmer. He said he would, and that he understood. Agmaer and I are both sharing my room at the Mare tonight. He's down there now with Carcette, catching up with everyone else. He was always more sociable than me. Everyone seemed happy to see him, too. Especially Ysolda. I wonder if something is in the air between them? I'll have to ask tonight.
While I have the time, I'll write down what happened after we retook Morthal. Since Lorana gave out soul gems for free for all the residents of Morthal, and they are quite expensive, Jarl Idgrod granted her some land in Morthal. Said she would have a house constructed there for her in order to pay her back. Falion, for his contributions to curing everyone, was made Thane of Hjaalmarch. Nobody is going to complain about his magic anymore, I daresay. And if they do, being Thane comes with some perks, I'm sure.
The Vigilants and the Dawnguard were also given access to Hroggar's burnt down home and Alva's house, to turn into a small stronghold and forward offices for recruitment, as well as to maintain a permanent presence in the hold. Isran and Carcette were both pretty pleased with that, though Carcette said that since Isran liked restoring decrepit ruins so much, he could have the burnt house. That did not make the redguard smile.
Lurbuk will travel now, though he will always come back to Morthal. He has also sent a letter to his home stronghold in the Reach, Dushnikh Yal, proclaiming me to be blood kin on account of services rendered. In Dushnikh Yal, at least, I'll be welcomed without molestation. I hope that's true. I've never been inside an orc stronghold so if I go to the Reach someday, I'll be sure to pay them a visit.
I've told Kodlak about the success of the soul gem treatment. He seemed a little more tense in my presence, though. He asked me if I'd silvered my sword and when I said I had, he asked me why. So, I told him everything that had happened in Morthal and why it was a necessity. He smiled at me, but it was a sad one. He never explained, and I didn't ask.
"I am proud of you, Hanse Arnisson," he told me. "I was a whelp before I was a warrior, too, and you have proved your mettle in battle enough that I can offer you a seat among the Companions, if ever you choose to turn to the adventuring life. I know you won't, but outside of teaching you the ways of the blade, this is the biggest compliment I can pay you."
Honestly, it was surreal. He said Agmaer could join too, and I fully intend on taking him over to Jorrvaskr tomorrow morning before we leave. Yes, Agmaer and I both leave Whiterun tomorrow. He will travel to Fort Dawnguard to resume his training. I will travel with keeper Carcette to the Hall of the Vigilants where I will take my oath and become a member of their order.
"You have shown enough talent and drive that I must insist on you joining our ranks," she'd told me in Morthal itself. "It will be an honour to have you among us… Vigilant Hanse."
I had no reason to say no to that. But I won't be a full-time member, though. The Hall will be one of my rest stops, but I fully intend to keep coming back to Whiterun. There is still so much that I can learn from Danica. Arcadia, too. She's still in Windhelm, and I intend to go to Dawnstar and get a boat to Windhelm after my initiation.
It is so strange to think about the many turns my life has taken this month. I started out complaining about Jon, and now I'm off to start a new chapter of my life. Now, on the cusp of it, I am both eager and reluctant. I know I want this, but I also know that I will miss home terribly. Whiterun is all I've known. It is everything to me. But after seeing Morthal and Windhelm, I want to see more of Skyrim. I don't know if I'll ever be able to leave the province and go to faraway places like Black Marsh or Morrowind or High Rock, but what is life without dreams?
I can hear the sounds of laughter below. I can hear Agmaer cracking jokes. Worse yet, I can hear him starting to sing. It will never end if it begins so I will go down and put a stop to this now. That means I must finish writing this. It's amazing how much this journal has come to mean to me. This has been my best friend after my brother left, and though I'm sure it will continue to play a part in the months and years to come, I cannot help but thank this journal for its existence. Without it, I might have gone insane. It is an excellent way to go over my feelings. It gives me something to do while I'm overwhelmed. It is also a great tool to express everything I can't tell another human being. All in all, I feel like I've matured a lot thanks to writing here.
I'm glad I picked you up. I'm glad I wrote in you. I'm glad you'll be a companion in adventures to come, because I can't wait to tell you all about the new people I meet and places I visit.
May Stendarr extend His mercy to you as well.