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Both of us laughed again, and while there was still a tension between us she moved over closer as I continued preparing our meals. The shadows had begun consuming the world around us and despite the growing lateness of the hour there was still some movement and travellers on the road as they sought out accommodation or simply chose to press on through the night. Viconia and I fell silent in our conversation as we began eating our meals but it wasn’t long before we were interrupted by the sounds of a considerable number of people approaching from the west.
Poorly greased axles ground together, the echoes rippling through the forests now that the relative silence of the evening began to cling to the land. The sounds of voices could be heard as a bubbling wave of noise that grew as the group approached, and Viconia and I found ourselves staring at over a dozen flatbed wagons crammed full of people. Each wagon contained several people each, and those who couldn’t ride walked alongside. Every single one of them carried what appeared to be all of their worldly possessions, trudging through the kilometres and appearing incredibly bone tired and road weary. Children cried and babbled amongst themselves, adults muttered softly but all of them wore expressions of sorrow and suffering that Viconia and I had seen far too often the past months.
Rising to my feet and dropping the remnants of my meal into the coals, I moved closer to the road, giving Trygve a quick pat on the neck as I moved past his enormous bulk. In comparison the horses puffing into the chill appeared to be tiny nags and moth-eaten saddle horses rather than the powerfully muscled draught horses they were. Trygve and Ultrin were without equal and I could see many sets of eyes turn and look over Viconia and I and our steeds at our camp off the side of the road.
Expecting desperation and exhaustion, the sudden wave of anger and frustration that came from the group stopped me in my tracks momentarily. So used to our reputations and fame leaving us as the toasts of the town, the hate filled cries of "It’s them!" left me bewildered and shocked even as a significant portion of the convoy began converging on us.
"What in Shar’s name is going on?" muttered Viconia by my side as the group advanced, several of the adults dropping from the sides of their wagons in tiny huddles. The way they carried themselves and gripped various objects made my heart start pumping adrenaline into my veins and I could feel my face tightening.
"No idea." The looks we were receiving were obvious in their hostile intent, and I could see several of the men tensing themselves for a confrontation. Though we were both heavily outnumbered, I didn’t have too much concern facing down over fifty unarmed and ill equipped individuals while Viconia and I were still dressed in our armour. Especially with the night now holding sway over the lands.
"Murdering bastards!" someone from the press of people shouted amidst a chorus of similar cries.
"-brought death to our-"
"-blood is on your hands-"
"Enough!" I roared, feeling the stirrings of the vampire rising to the surface and infusing my voice with its unnatural power. "What in the name of Oblivion is going on?!"
The silence that fell was as shocking as was the sudden fear in their expressions. There was something about my expression and the malevolent presence in my eyes that seemed to quieten them into submission. Concerned mutterings continued in the group from those hidden behind their friends and companions and as a group they all seemed to glance between their fellows to see who would speak.
"Who are you and where are you all from?" I asked, projecting my voice over the growing murmurs.
"Glenvar." One of the men said, shrinking back as I turned and gazed on him. "We’re from Glenvar Village."
Looking over the group I struggled to see anyone that I might have recognised from our brief stay. The village may have been small, but it had still been home to a dozens of families and hundreds of individuals. There were a few faces I vaguely recognised but none that I was certain of.
"And what happened? Daedra?"
Almost as a single entity they shook their heads collectively. Several signs begging the protection of the Nine fluttered about in the mass by the increasingly nervous crowd but I could feel their anger diminishing rapidly.
Again the huddled group shook their heads and continued muttering and I found myself stepping forward looking as many of them in the eye as I could. "Is there anyone here that can tell us what in all the hells is going on?"
After a few seconds of confusion and consternation one of the villagers stepped forward. Dressed in a thick leather coat and appearing to be one of the wagon drivers he visibly gulped as he felt my gaze upon him. "The village has been suffering attacks these past weeks. The disappearances started again a week or so after you both left, but then people started dying."
The surge of excited fear rose again and the group began muttering and calling out again, their cries drowning out each other’s and struggling to be heard.
"-the miller-"
"-Leoltierus and his family-"
"-my daughter-"
"-Aedile Philevus and his wife-"
"Quiet!" I roared again and the group fell silent once more. Turning I locked eyes with the drover and saw him wilt under my attentions. "What plagues the county so if not vampires?"
The fear emanating from the man was almost as potent as brandy to the rising instincts of the vampire and I could almost bathe in it. "We... We don’t know..."
"So you and the entire village decided to simply pack up and leave without even knowing why?" Viconia spat from behind me and the crowd hushed even further until the haunting calls of owls in the forest could be heard.
"People have been dying." He replied simply, looking between myself and Viconia. "Those who don’t simply disappear during the night have been found the next morning. Most of the time we have been unable to identity what little remains."
"When did all this start?" I asked carefully and simply and I saw him quickly count off on his fingers.
"Eleven days ago."
The day after Viconia and I received our knighthoods and almost a full month since killing Lord Volmyr and the rest of his coven. I was almost entirely sure that I had not left any vampires alive in Nornalhorst and there was something about the way that the villagers were describing the more recent deaths that didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t sound like the work of vampires and even those standing before Viconia and I didn’t believe so either.
"And are you all that is left?"
The drover shook his head. "Another group headed to the north to Pell’s Gate and a few left to seek assistance from the Legion at Fort Homestead. We’re heading to Bravil."
Viconia snorted behind me and rolled her eyes. "You’d be better off staying in your homes than seeking refuge in that cesspit."
Ignoring Viconia and the looks of astonishment from some in the group I mentioned for him to continue. "What about the castle? Why didn’t your liege assist you?"
I saw the looks and felt the tingle of unease steadily crawling its way up my spine. "The castle is closed. It has been since the first disappearances. We haven’t seen or heard from Count Albric or anyone else from the castle in over a fortnight, and even the portcullis had been closed. It hasn’t been closed in years, maybe even a decade or more."
"Anyone left in the village?"
He shrugged noncommittally. "Only a handful, maybe two dozen or more. There were those who didn’t wish to leave their homes and a few others who decided to fortify the town hall and wait for assistance."
Viconia watched as I breathed out heavily and ran my fingers through my hair. "Your thoughts?" I said to her simply.
"There’s no other way to bypass this misbegotten County and head to Anvil by chance?"
I shook my head, seeing the looks of hatred and horror returning as they heard the two of us considering not going to the source of their troubles. "Not without heading back to Bravil and finding a ship heading to the Imperial City."
She swore loudly and forcibly. "Vith’nindel. Even Trygve and Ultrin couldn’t drag me back to that shithole." Tilting her head at me and pointedly ignoring the people standing around us she raised an eyebrow. "I guess that we aren’t even going to get paid for this either?"
"Not in the slightest." I looked over the group standing before us. They all seemed to be torn between their anger at their belief of us bringing such death and horror into their lives and the weight of expectation at us saving their homes and lives.
"Well..." She muttered bitterly. "Looks like we get to go all noble..."
After a hard mornings ride we arrived before the collection of stone-brick buildings that was Glenvar Village. Since rising before dawn we had mounted Ultrin and Trygvr and dug in our spurs, making the distance between the makeshift camp the refugees had erected and the village in record time. Both of our steeds were panting heavily by the time we came within sight of the town, their sides heaving and mouths’ white with foam. Neither Viconia and I wished to arrive or find ourselves within the bounds of the County without the sun upon us, and by driving our horses on we had ensured that there were several more hours of daylight left by the time we arrived.
Between our campsite and the village, the feeling of unease had grown steadily with every pounding fall of a hoof. For several kilometres the forests surrounding the tiny hamlet had grown increasingly quiet and sinister, the chill of the morning and the white frost that blanketed the lands keeping hold even as the sun reached its zenith. There was a darkness that infused the land, every leaf and blade of grass seemed foreboding as it swayed uneasily in the breeze. Barely any birds could be seen flitting between trees or taking flight into the open skies, and for a considerable distance even my own vampiric senses could not detect the sound or movement of other woodland creatures. Nothing seemed to live in the entire region, no animal gracing the forest floor and the skies were clear of all but the overwhelming sense of danger.
"Well... this is unnatural." Viconia muttered as she looked about, swinging a leg out of the stirrups and lightly dropping the considerable height between the saddle and the road.
"That’s putting it mildly." I too alighted from the saddle, patting Trygve on his massive flanks as he sucked in breaths of air. I could feel the stallion trembling from more than just exertions, some deep seated instinct alerting the massive destrier to the danger in the region. With his ears pressed flat to his skull he whinnied lightly and I knew that whatever made a fully trained warhorse that had recently fought daedra uneasy wasn’t something to take lightly.
Something in the back of my mind was bubbling to the surface, a deep seated instinct that was not wholly my own. The vampire rose, tightening my face as it too fed on the unnatural state of the region and found it not to its liking.
"We’ll walk from here." I said simply, buckling Sunchild to my hip and pulling my coif and hood over my head. "We’ll lead them in on foot to keep them in sight and allow us to get out of here quickly if need be."
Making similar preparations, Viconia tightened a handful of straps keeping her armour secured and Dragonbane tight to her hip. "First sign of trouble I suggest we leave." She said simply, watching as I withdrew my bow from its leather travelling case and strung it. "This place reeks of death."
"And fear." I added, pulling my mask up over my nose until all that could be seen was my eyes in the shadows of the hood.
Other than the unnatural pall of terror that clung to everything in the region there appeared to be nothing else in the area. My vampiric nature could not detect anything larger than a rabbit for kilometres around and although I could sense the handful of traces of life within the village itself I could not pinpoint them. The village was deserted, but not of a result of a bandit raid or a daedric attack. There was no burning devastation, no remains of bodies run down in the street and other than the fact that it was completely deserted nothing appeared amiss.
Remembering the village when we had briefly stayed a month previously, I couldn’t help but remember how the streets had been full of life and laughter. At this time of day, the inhabitants would be walking the streets, undertaking their various duties and chores and chatting and enjoying the company of their friends and neighbours. The few stockyards and chicken coops would have provided the background noise of clucking of hens and bleating of sheep and cattle to the cries and shouts of children running in the streets but now there was nothing.
The soft pines and ferns in the village outskirts swished lightly in the breeze and we approached the nearest buildings on the village outskirts. Leading on our massive chargers by the reins we moved as carefully and as quietly as nearly two tonnes of steel-shod horseflesh could manage while stopping and listening every few dozen metres. Both our horses twitched and panted from the run and their instincts and I patted Trygve reassuringly every few paces that seemed to calm me as much as it did him. Like my massive warhorse I was preparing myself for some form of confrontation; the fear that coated the town almost like a visible layer of filth that I could feel crawling across my skin. As the aura of the seemingly abandoned town rose the hairs on the back of my neck I could easily hear the creaking of my minotaur leather gloves as I gripped Sunchild sheathed form by its carved pommel.
Doors creaked threateningly in the breeze, the handful of signs and window shutters being the only movement within the town as we began making our way through the first buildings lining the road. Each seemed deserted, their doors closed in places, hanging open in others. Some appeared to have received attempts at being boarded up by their inhabitants before their owners had simply fled, and in one house I stepped inside the rotting remains of meals had been left where they had been placed on the dining table.
With the wind blowing the wrong direction it was only when we rounded a corner where a dirt track led between two houses that the stench of death made itself felt. Even with my enhanced senses I had failed to detect the smell of rot in the paddock behind the home, and now we were no longer being shielded from the smell by the building there was no mistaking the stink. Hacking and choking I pressed my hand to my mask in a vain attempt to keep it at bay, while the other keeping a stronger grip to the reins of an increasingly edgy stallion.
"Looks like those peasants weren’t lying about the carnage happening here." Viconia said at my shoulder, patting Ultrin gently and staring at the sight before us.
"Or overestimating." I replied. What had once been a small herd of sheep with their winter’s coats thick and fluffy were now nothing more than butchered chunks of meat scattered over the better part of an acre. I guessed that there had been a dozen at least, but identifying exactly how many was impossible as it there were barely enough bits to identify the species, let alone number. Whatever had attacked the herd as it had cowered in the tiny pasture had ripped every animal into shreds of meat and sprays of gore. Limbs, organs and a chunks of blood soaked wool covered everything in sight and such was the devastation that I felt my gorge rise at the sudden rush of smells.
The sheep had been killed at least three or four days previously and what little was left had been left to the elements to rot. The rank aura of death felt like a layer of grease wafting in the air, and as I moved closer the silence of the village was broken by the drumming of hundreds of flies as they lifted in a cloud of pestilence from the rotting remains. Even the deepening chill of winter had not managed to keep the buzzing insects at bay from such a bountiful harvest and everywhere the flesh squirmed with unnatural life with hundreds of bloated maggots.
As Viconia looked on with a slight look of disgust covering her features I moved closer to the shredded remains, crushing the urge to vomit and breathing shallowly through my leather mask in a vain attempt to ignore the smell. As quickly as I could I tried to read the remains and the land around the paddock for any trace of what might've been responsible, but the trail had gone cold days before.
"Minotaurs?" Viconia asked as she looked about the area, holding a hand to her face and trying to brush away the handful of blue-black flies as they flitted around her.
Shaking my head, I returned to where she stood with the horses. "I don’t think so. There would be more tracks, and this doesn’t seem to be the same type of devastation at Titan’s End."
Carefully we made our way through the streets, hearing the clopping of hooves on the cobblestones echoing painfully through the abandoned buildings. Together we entered each house or building as we passed them, quickly checking and finding most to be utterly empty except for the traces of their inhabitants hurriedly packing and leaving quickly. Some had been locked and barred, and we choose to move on from them as forcing entry would have been too loud and obvious in the deathly silence.
Half cooked remains of food had been left where it had fallen, in another the evening meal had long since bubbled and burned into a congealed mass after being left on the cooking fire. Fireplaces had grown cold and I felt the lack of warmth in the ash and coals as I shifted through them with my fingerless gloves. Every building in the area hadn’t felt the embrace of a fire in a couple of days at least, and had been abandoned when the refugees had left.
Towards the centre of the town we found ourselves looking up at the double storied inn where we had stayed during our previous visit. The faded sign with the carved words Faregyl Inn still hung from the walls on an ancient chain, creaking faintly as it shifted in the wind. Unlike the rest of the buildings we had uncovered so far the inn was far from untouched, and with great unease we both noticed how the doors had been ripped and splintered apart.
Looking over to Viconia I could see the building witchlight in her eyes as she drew magicka into herself, writing archaic runes with her fingertips that sparked into existence in the very air itself. Carefully lowering my bow to the ground I dragged Sunchild from its sheath, nodding to her simply and moving quickly and silently over to the door.
Unlike most of the other buildings, the Inn was little more than a ruin. Creeping around the outside to the front entrance I saw how someone had been going to great lengths attempting to barricade and fortify the two story building. It had done them little good judging by the way that the doors lay shattered and strewn over several metres of cobblestones and what little remained were splintered and hung limply from twisted hinges. Every window had also been destroyed; the thick oaken shutters having been peeled away or wrenched from their frames and not a single pane of glass remained intact. The remains of the windows crunched softly under my boots as I ground the shards into dust under my tread and I couldn’t help but notice the way something of great strength had gone to a great amount of effort to get inside.
Death clung from the building, billowing out of the opened doorway and seeping from the shattered windows. Great hunks of wood lay ripped and splintered where something had clawed and rent thick wooden posts as though they were clay. Carefully looking over every centimetre of the Inn’s exterior I could see where something had scrabbled its way up the walls, digging its claws into the stonework and wooden support beams to rip an enormous hole in the roof shingles and tiles to gain entry.
"What in the name of Shar did this?" Viconia muttered as she carefully followed me, a spell seeping between her clenched fingers as they twisted and weaved the magicka in the palm of her hand.
"Not minotaurs." I murmured, looking over the jagged rents in the doorframe and knowing that only something with claws longer than daggers had turned the thick oak into little more than kindling.
More glass crunched underfoot as I carefully set foot inside of the Inn itself, the smell and taste of blood on the air tightening my face and leaving me salivating. The thirst was still some days away from needed to be satiated but with the sheer quantity of the stuff coating the Inn’s dining room was impossible to ignore.
Almost unimaginable in scale, the Inn’s interior resembled nothing like the room where we had dinner only a month previous. More akin to a slaughterhouse, several bodies were scattered about, most dismembered and little more than offal seeping into the foundations. Almost every piece of furniture had been broken and cups, flagons, plates, cutlery and all manner of items were strewn everywhere. Making my way inside I stepped over the severed arm laying in the doorway, the blood that had gushed from its torn bicep having soaked into the sand from the shattered hourglass knocked from the doorframe.
Crude barricades had been set up inside, the tables and chairs being overturned in a semicircle around the entrance, and whatever furniture that could be spared had been piled up against the door in a fruitless attempt to keep it closed. Something had smashed its way through the stacked tables, chairs, cupboards and even a bedframe with incredible force, ripping its way through the stacked furniture before turning the dining room into the site of a massacre. Whatever had breached the door had strength matching a minotaur, and I could see where one of the hapless victims had been crushed by the entire weight of a wrought iron safe that had been thrown several metres across the room. Even emptied it would have weighed in excess of a hundred and fifty kilograms but it had someone been launched with enough force to leave a body little more than a stain on the broken and shattered floor.
"We’re in trouble." I said simply, feeling the strange creeping fear building within me and trailing its deathly fingers up my spine. An uncomfortable memory began worming its way to the forefront of my mind as I remembered white snows soiled with similar carnage several years before.
"Oh? Really?" Viconia responded, nudging the limp arm of one of the bodies with the toe of her boot. The limb had only just begun settling into rigor mortis but there was no mistaking the way that the corpse’s ribcage had been peeled open like a fruit. "What was your first clue?"
I could feel her gaze on me as I stepped over corpses and gore. Limbs had been ripped from torsos, necks bitten away and guts strewn about in great sweeping arcs of crimson and ruined bowels. Several of the bodies had been eaten, their bones splintered and chests opened where something had consumed them with an insatiable hunger. One body that I knelt over still had an expression of abject terror plastered into his pale features, one hand outstretched as though even in death he attempted to ward off his killer. His gloves were shredded, one hand missing fingers where they and a sizable portion of his hand had been bitten away. Enormous slices and gouges had ripped fabric and flesh to the bone up his arms and I prodded them lightly with the tip of my dagger, noting with some concern that the ten centimetre blade would have struggled to make such large and deep cuts. The injuries had been caused by claws and teeth that would have matched any number of breeds of wolves or even mountain lions within Cyrodiil; if it wasn’t for their sheer size.
He had died painfully, but not quickly and I knew with almost absolute certainty as I closed his eyes with my palm that he was far from dead when his attacker had started eating him. Moving through the room I looked over each body in turn, seeing Viconia watching silently near the door as I picked my way through the detritus. Most of the dead had suffered or died from similar injuries, but there were a few that were so thoroughly dismembered that there wasn’t enough to identify whether they were men, mer or even beastfolk.
With each corpse and every second studying the devastation the old memory continued to build in my mind and I found myself wishing and hoping I was wrong. Minotaurs had the strength but they were herbivores. Vampires were definitely capable of ripping people apart like this but this was by far too animalistic and feral; even for those horrors in Nornalhorst. One of the victims I studied had been dressed in a thick leather brigandine with metal plates interwoven throughout the torso. It had been of considerable quality and should have protected against most blades but whatever had gored him had claws that made a mockery of its supposed protection. A series of parallel gashes ran from down his face and across his chest, shredding the armour like it had been nothing more than parchment and leaving his face a bloody ruin. Curiously I spread the fingers of my hand out into a claw of sorts and compared it to the wounds, noting how although somewhat smaller, the size of my hand almost matched spread of the creature's claws that had killed the villager.
"So?" Viconia hissed from behind me as she moved closer and studied my expression "What happened here?"
"I have my suspicions." I replied, and I knew that she could hear the tremble of uncertainty and fear that was building in my voice.
"Well I doubt that they include daedra."
Moving away from the eviscerated corpse I moved over towards the destroyed bar. "Daedra would have burned the entire village to the ground, not broken inside and killed and eaten everyone in here."
Almost tripping over its heavy form, I reached down and plucked a mace from where it had skittered across from its owner’s hand. Heavy and weighted with a lead core, it was a brutal weapon with a star shape of flanges designed for penetrating thick armour and pulping bones. From the blood and mush coating it, its owner had been somewhat successful with its use.
"Someone gave a good account of himself." Holding the weighted weapon by the haft I turned and lightly tossed it to Viconia. "What do you make of this?"
Despite its heavy and unbalanced shape she caught it neatly, looking over the blood and gore mashed into its head. She scraped a finger down the deep grooves before picking at a congealed chuck and inspecting it carefully.
"They all found themselves caught in here like rats in a trap." Even standing knee deep in gore and death there was no fear or hesitation in her voice as she glanced about at the carnage. "At least two attackers, one through the door and one through the roof. Both strong enough to rip through solid oak and kill everyone."
With a segment of gore between thumb and forefinger she held it out in front of her curiously. Taken from the grooved head of the mace, it was a small chunk of flesh and blood about the size of a Septim. "Whatever surfacer used this weapon managed to get one of them in the head at least." She said carefully, placing the mace down and pulling strands out of the gory chunk between her fingers. "This is hair."
"Actually it isn't." I replied, hauling back the broken remains of a table from where it had been thrown at the bar. "It’s fur."
"Fur?" There was level of confusion in her voice as she wiped the matted chunk away on a hunk of wood. "Just what kind of animal could do this? A minotaur has the strength but this looks nothing like the farm at Titan’s End. Ogres are flesh-eaters, but these wounds are more from a wolf or bear than anything else."
The memory, repressed for the better part of a decade returned in full force and I shuddered slightly while looking over the remains of Abhuki. She had been shredded and what little was left only consisted of everything above the waist. "There was at least three of them that did this, maybe more. But they weren’t men, mer, beastfolk or animal but rather a combination of both."
"Now you’re just talking in riddles Mrannd'ssinss. Just what did this?"
Chewing my lip for a moment I closed my eyes and forced the word out from my constricting throat. "Werewolves."
"Werewolves?" The sudden edginess in her own voice was not lost to me and although I knew that she was still learning much of the surface world she had already heard her fair share of tavern stories of the horrors of the night. "Are you sure?"
"Unfortunately, almost without a doubt."
The expression on my face and the tone of my voice was obvious to her. "You’ve seen something like this before..."
I nodded. "Just over six years ago. In a farmhouse outside of Ald Velothi."
"When you were in the Legion?"
"Yeah. I was one of the foresters assigned to a squad of Legionaries tasked with hunting down a murderer from Khuul. Before becoming a fugitive he had been some merchant or parchment-shuffler with the East Empire Trading Company. A few days after he returned from a journey to Solstheim and Fort Frostmoth, the Khuul guards investigated a disturbance at his house. From what we were told they had found him covered in the blood of his wife, eating the remains of his six-month old daughter and utterly insane. Somehow he managed to fight his way free, killing one of them and wounding another before fleeing into the wilderness. So, the next day the town petitioned Fort Ironhand for the Legion’s assistance in tracking him down."
Leaning against the ruined bar I felt the memory of the frozen north creep down my spine with icy fingers of fear. Even the vampiric side of my soul could not hold the feeling at bay and Viconia watched as I clenched my hands into fists, listening intently.
"We finally managed to track him down a few days later. Prefect Saedaere might have been an Altmer bastard, but he knew his job well. The group of us; the full squad of Legionaries and us three foresters waited until dark when we thought the bastard would be sleeping and kicked the front door."

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