FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Dar’mhirr!” Frea cried again, shaking the Khajiit’s shoulder. The warrior was usually a light sleeper, so the shaman’s daughter didn’t understand why he wouldn’t awake. His breathing was unnaturally light, making her wonder if she should go grab her father.

“Dar’mhirr!” she said another time shaking his shoulder. “Wake up!”

With a gasp, the Khajiit’s eyes opened and he flew up into a sitting position, almost headbutting Frea. He panted heavily, before his gaze focused on Frea.

“What is it, Frea?” he asked, though it seemed as though he was only half present. The panicked view in his eyes still lingered.

“Are you alright?” Frea asked, skirting around the question briefly.

Dar’mhirr stared at her for a second with his breathing slowly steadying.

“Fine,” he answered. “This one is fine. He just had a nightmare. A powerful nightmare.”

He shuddered.

“We need your help,” Frea said, returning to the reason she was here. “Wulf Wild-blood and Baldor Iron-shaper have disappeared. Wulf is our First Hunter and no one in the village right now has his experience with tracking. We would need a hunting party. But I suggested you. Do you have any tracking skills?”

“Dar’mhirr is the best tracker in the Dawnguard,” the Khajiit snorted. “I’ll help find your friends. Can’t you all track?”

“Normally,” Frea agreed. “But the wind has erased any signs.”

Dar’mhirr pushed back his blankets, not at all embarrassed about his state of undress in the shaman’s presence. She’d seen everything when she was patching him up.

“Could you help this one get up and get dressed?” Dar’mhirr asked, gesturing over to the Skaal clothes made for him.

Frea quickly ran and grabbed the clothes, before helping Dar’mhirr to his feet. The Khajiit slipped the thick and warm clothes over his furred form, relaxing immediately in the warmth. Just like Elsweyr.

“Alright,” Dar’mhirr said, walking over to the door with Frea’s arm around him as a support. “This one wants to try the obvious exits to the village first.”

“Alright,” Frea agreed, opening the door. “I’ll get you there.”

She led him out, still supporting him, to the far end of the village from the Greathall. There, Dar’mhirr pushed himself free of Frea and knelt down, investigating what he could. The sheer, unadulterated cold the Khajiit was feeling did little to distract him from the fact that some of the Skaal were missing and that the rest were probably blaming him, if what Miraak said was true.

He shouldered that aside. If they didn’t trust him, that was their choice. He’d already proved himself to them.

He looked around carefully, before noticing something above. He stood up and swayed a tiny bit, but remained balanced and touched a branch.

“Here we go,” Dar’mhirr said, beckoning Frea over. “You see this branch, yes? Look at the snow on this branch compared to the others. This branch has less. And here, it’s broken. Someone went through here recently.”

“That could be them!” Frea said excitedly. “Good eyes, Dar’mhirr.”

“Khajiit told you,” Dar’mhirr chuckled, a smile on his face. “Dar’mhirr is a good tracker. Vampires don’t leave much in the ways of detection. One must learn to follow them.”

“So they went this way,” Frea nodded. “Could you track them further? Are you well enough to do that?”

“Dar’mhirr is fine,” Dar’mhirr nodded. “Let’s go get your friends back.”

The village followed Dar’mhirr (And, by extension, Frea too), as the Khajiit tracked the most miniscule of signs along a path. The villagers were quiet as they followed, without conversation or name hollering. This was very unlike the two men. To just disappear.

Something was off. And it didn’t just lie with a general feeling. Frea’s father, Storn Crag-Strider, had also had a premonition of something bad, right before the two men had gone missing.

Dar’mhirr considered explaining his dream, but since he was worried the villagers didn’t trust him, he was hesitant. Frea and Wulf were the only ones he trusted and one of them was missing. To make matters worse, if Miraak were telling the truth, then Frea didn’t trust him either.

Dar’mhirr frowned. What if Miraak were simply making a conjecture? Or telling him a lie? Miraak was obviously no good guy…but Dar’mhirr wasn’t quite sure he was a bad guy either. He wasn’t like Alduin, that’s for sure. ALduin knew he was evil. Dar’mhirr found it likely that Miraak wasn’t deliberately evil, just…selfish, to be sure.

“You alright?” Frea asked, looking over them.

“This one…yes, Dar’mhirr is fine,” the vampire hunter said, realizing he was scowling. “Just…wondering what’s going on on this island.”

“That is a good question,” Frea nodded. “A lot of evil is running loose.”

Dar’mhirr halted as they came up to this sturdy wooden-planked bridge that crossed a river, with a powerful waterfall nearby. Again, he frowned, but this time in curiousity.

The Khajiit approached the bridge and knelt down, Frea just a little behind. She didn’t want to disturb him, but still acknowledged that he was not yet quite ready for this cross-country tracking expedition they were on.

“Here,” Dar’mhirr said, gesturing to a snapped twig on a bush. He held it up to show Frea. “See? The wood is green. This is recent.”

He looked across the bridge and sighed.

“I’ll help you across,” Frea offered.

The prideful Dar’mhirr bit his bottom lip and considered. Ordinarily he would have just walked on by himself, but, sadly, in his current condition, he didn’t trust himself not to step on a gap right between the boards.

“Fine,” Dar’mhirr sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Do not take this as an embarrassment, Dar’mhirr,” Frea said, obviously sensing the Khajiit’s opinions as she slung one his arms around her shoulders. Another Skaal, Dar’mhirr believed his name was Nikulas, came over and slung the Khajiit’s other arm over his shoulders.

“How not?” Dar’mhirr queried, as they started across the bridge.

“Everybody gets hurt,” Frea said. “And we are the Skaal. There lies not one amongst us who has never gotten hurt in the wilds. There lies not one of us who has never needed a helping hand. And besides, you prove yourself tough to us by this. You really should be lying in a bed, not trekking after two of our villagers who have disappeared.”

“I’d still be laid up,” Nikulas said from his other side. “Your side wound is pretty…fierce. I’d not be moving for a while after a mark like that. And yet, your first indication it was reopened again was when Wulf pointed out the blood!”

Dar’mhirr smiled appreciating the support, but his embarrassment still lingered.

Reaching the other side of the bridge, Nikulas released Dar’mhirr’s arm and Frea changed her grip, so the Khajiit would still receive support if he needed it.

“This way,” Dar’mhirr said, pointing in one of the direction leaving the bridge. This time, the sign was the heavy footprint in the loose mud. The Skaal noticed it too.

“Wulf was here,” Nikulas said. The Skaal tracking party followed the path, before arriving at a strange sight.

There, at one of Solstheim’s sacred and mystical stones, Baldor and Wulf were hard at work. Around them lay lots of stone and it was obvious the two Skaal were building something.

“There you are,” Frea said in relief. “We were looking for you.”

“Here do we toil,” Wulf said, in a monotone. “As he draws ever near to us.”

“What?” Dar’mhirir asked in confusion. His eyes suddenly snapped up and surveyed the area around. These two were under some kind of trance, which the Khajiit had seen before. Victims of the vampiric thrall.

However, as the Khajiit’s eyes roved, he saw nothing unusual.

“What’s wrong with them?” Nikulas asked, waving a hand in front of Wulf’s face. The Skaal didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence as he grabbed a massive rock and hauled it over to the temple.

“They’re under a trance,” Dar’mhirr muttered. He walked over with the help of Frea and pointed at Wulf. “Grab him and hold him still when he gets near.”

When Wulf came close, the Skaal did just that. The Nord didn’t react over even try to break free. He just stood there.

Dar’mhirr sighed, holding a strong guess of what he had to do. He looked into Wulf’s eyes and smiled in relief. The trance was not deep, rather, right on the surface. Easy to break.

Dar’mhirr pulled his hand back and, with a decent force behind it, smacked Wulf across the face. The villagers gasped.

Wulf’s head recoiled from the blow but his eyes cleared and he blinked, confused. His gaze strayed before recollecting himself.

“Wulf?” Dar’mhirr asked. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” the first-hunter mumbled. “I’m…I’m fine. Why does my jaw hurt? And why are we all the way here at the wind stone?”

“Do you remember anything?” Frea asked.

“I…I went to bed. And as I was lying there this…this voice, it echoed in my head. A mantra of sorts. Then, I woke up here.”

As he was talking, a couple other Skaal went and did what Dar’mhirr did to Baldor, promptly snapping him out of his hypnosis as well.

“What was the mantra?”

“Well,” Wulf said. “It was about a return of some sorts. That our eyes had been opened.”

“This voice…” Dar’mhirr said hesitantly, reluctant to share his dream, but curious if this was indeed Miraak’s command or…something else. “Did it sound like he was speaking through a pipe. A metallic sort of voice?”

“Y…yes,” Wulf said, seeming surprised.

“And the individual’s return…did he announce himself as Miraak?”

The assembled Skaal gasped or jerked at the mention of that name. Wulf seemed stunned, but Baldor simply nodded.

“It was Miraak,” the blacksmith said.

“How did you know Dar’mhirr?” Frea asked. Dar’mhirr looked into her eyes and was struck by the suspicion there. Miraak hadn’t lied. They really didn’t trust him.

“He spoke to me as well,” Dar’mhirr confessed, looking down. “That’s what you woke me up from. A conversation Miraak and I were having.”

He looked up and saw the scene of betrayal in the eyes of those assembled.

“You…knew of Miraak?” Frea asked, the shock evident in her voice. “He spoke to you?”

Dar’mhirr nodded.

“You’re one of his servants, aren’t you?” Oslaf demanded.

Dar’mhirr blinked at him. One of Miraak’s servants? Was this Skaal being serious?

“No answer?” Oslaf asked. “I thought so. We need to imprison this cat, somewhere out of the way, so he doesn’t influence anymore minds while asleep.”

“Now wait a minute,” Dar’mhirr protested. “Why do you think Dar’mhirr had anything to do with this? He came to you almost dead, for Baan Dar’s sake!”

“Yes,” Oslaf answered. “After apparently falling to a creature from Apocrypha. The realms of one of our most ancient of enemies, Hermaeus Mora. How do we know that you aren’t some kind of creature conjured by Mora?”

“This one is a Khajiit!” Dar’mhirr snapped. “Tharstan has already confirmed this!”

“Under the spell of Miraak,” Oslaf shot back. “I’ve never even heard the elves speak of something like this. And right when you arrive in our midst, things start to go wrong. Just when you started to gain our trust.”

“That’s enough Oslaf,” Frea said, shutting him down. “Come. Let us all get back to the village. I’m sure the oddness of this scenario has opened some more wounds…beyond the physical. Let’s get home.”

The Skaal turned away and started trudging back, but it was obvious they felt differently about Dar’mhirr after Oslaf’s paranoid jabs and Dar’mhirr’s “confession” of having dealt with Miraak. Dar’mhirr, as Frea helped him back, glanced desperately, hoping that her eyes would still hold the trust they did before.

But she wouldn’t even look at him.

“So, Dar’mhirr, you have returned to me again. You are a strong dreamer indeed.”

“Cut the chatter, Miraak,” Dar’mhirr demanded, trying to draw his mace and for whatever reason being unable to. “You framed me!”

“Framed you?” Miraak asked. It was obvious that beneath his mask he had a wry smile and, possible, a cocked eyebrow. “How?”

“You got me blamed!” Dar’mhirr practically shouted at him. If he was Dragonborn, he would’ve shouted at him. “Because of you, all the trust I had built up amongst the Skaal is just gone!”

“It was never there in the first place, Dar’mhirr,” Miraak said, somewhat sympathetically. “These people are nothing more than Nord villagers living an outdated culture. They did not trust you to begin with. And now, because a couple of them were weaker than the rest, they blame you for simply being different. They are no different than the Nords of the mainland.”

Dar’mhirr opened his mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but nothing came to mind. The eyes far above in the sky seemed to be watching this debate with interest.

“At least they’re still willing to shelter you,” Miraak said. “But, sooner or later, they will reject you. Just as people have been doing your entire life. They see the fur, the ears, the tail and they automatically think you’re an animal…or a thief. They never see you for who you are. Even other Khajiit back away from you, Dar’mhirr, through no fault of your own. They see the determination in your eyes and confuse it with madness.”

Dar’mhirr wanted to protest, but he felt his eyes water. It was true he’d bounced all over the place in his youth, determined to find people who wanted vampires gone. The Vigilants weren’t specific enough, the Silver Hand cared only for their werewolves. In Morrowind he was set upon by a gang of slavers and crossing over into Skyrim, he was captured and detained for “being suspicious”, as the Stormcloaks who were still around in the time said. Only with the Dawnguard had he found belonging again and there he was still little more than a weapon.

“I understand your pain, Dar’mhirr,” Miraak said, walking forwards and resting his hand on the Khajiit’s shoulder. “You’re simply misunderstood. Work with me! Together, we can create a better world.”

“You tried to destroy it once,” Dar’mhirr said, not pulling away from Miraak’s hand.

“History is written by the winners,” Miraak spat. “I was always a fair and benevolent ruler. I never mistreated my people.”

“Yet they build your monuments,” Dar’mhirr scowled at him, raising his eyes. “They construct temples in your name.”

“I need those for my return,” Miraak said. “But once I have returned, the people will be free again. Dar’mhirr, with you at my side, we could not possibly lose.”

“This one would not join you,” Dar’mhirr said, finally pulling away. “To conquer any zone requires war and death. The Skaal don’t deserve that.”

“You throw your lot in with the very people who mistrust you?” Miraak asked, a slight tone of sadness audible. “Very well. You and I have cast our lots on opposite sides. But please, opposites or not, would you grant me a request?”

“What is it?”

“Should you win,” Miraak said, sounding as though he thought it completely impossible. “Please, take my regards to Alduin’s slayers. He and I were on opposite sides and I see it as fit that he is no more. Tell them thanks from me.”

“Yes, Lord Miraak,” Dar’mhirr said sarcastically. “Anything else?”

“No,” Miraak said, shaking his head. “That’s all from me. Best of luck, Dar’mhirr.”

Dar’mhirr opened his eyes in absolute confusion. He was in a building, but one that he had never been in before. It was small, with a fire pit against one wall and two rooms tucked in the other. Near the door, directly opposite of where he was, a small table was topped with food.

The Khajiit got up, though realized with a start that this was currently an impossibility. Wrapped around Dar’mhirr’s wrists and tied to a shelf above his head, were leather bindings. Why these bindings were present was beyond him.

He heard a whisper of conversation coming from the doorway nearest to the door on the far wall, the one that Dar’mhirr assume let outside. From his current position, he could not see who in the room were talking.

When Frea and Storn stepped out, Dar’mhirr was shocked.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded, straining at the leather straps. “Why is this one tied up like this? Restrained like an animal?”

“Relax, Dar’mhirr,” Frea said, kneeling down to his level, to look him in the eye. “We don’t mean you any harm. This is just a precaution.”

“A precaution?” Dar’mhirr demanded. “Against what? This is hardly comfortable.”

Dar’mhirr’s eyes widened as a sudden idea as to why he was restrained came.

“Wait,” Dar’mhirr said. “Is Dar’mhirr tied up because of Miraak? Because you all think this one works for him? You actually believe this Frea?”

“Maybe not before last night,” Frea said, looking down. “But you confirmed it.”

“Confirmed what?”

“If you’re not a pawn of Miraak, at the very least, you have regular contact with him. And as such, this makes you untrustworthy,” Storn said, looking at Dar’mhirr.

“How did you…”

“Last night, you said, and I quote, ‘Yes, Lord Miraak.’ Anyone who willingly agrees to anything the Traitor says must be kept under surveillance.”

“Dar’mhirr said what?” Dar’mhirr asked, eyes suddenly widening at the realization. “No, wait, you don’t understand. This one was-“

“Enough, Dar’mhirr,” Frea said softly. “I’m sorry, but trust is hard to come by at these times. And we know nothing about you.”

“That’s not true!” Dar’mhirr protested. “You know Khajiit! This one has laid who he is on the surface!”

“We want to believe you Dar’mhirr, but there seems a lot of evidence to the contrary. Too many ill-boding coincidences. You will not be harmed, but there will be a guard established.”

Dar’mhirr nodded, lowering his head. He said nothing more, feeling very hurt and betrayed. Here he had been, trusting that these people would believe him. That Miraak had been lying. Yet, they trusted him so little that they saw fit to bind him like a common animal.

“Your book’s sitting right here,” Frea said, placing the heavy tome on the ground near his feet. “If you want to read, I suppose you could use your feet to turn the pages.”

The eventual Shaman-to-be stood up and looked down at Dar’mhirr. He still hadn’t raised his head and the Skaal wanted nothing more than to comfort him but, well, the truth was that she didn’t know if he was trustworthy. They really knew nothing of him.

“I’ll…I’ll be back,” Frea said awkwardly, hoping to get a reaction from Dar’mhirr. There was nothing.

The fierce warrior turned around and left the Shaman’s Hut, not wanting to spend another moment in the room with the Khajiit who was either a betrayer…or feeling betrayed. Aeta was waiting outside and she looked up at Frea at her approach.

“Can I go see Dar’mhirr now?” she asked.

Frea smiled and shook her head. Best not to alarm the young Skaal. “Dar’mhirr is resting, Aeta. Come along, you want me to show you how to make necklaces from bone?”

“Sure!” Aeta said excitedly, following Frea back into the village proper.

“Frea!” a new voice called, attracting the Skaal’s attention. It was Baldor. “Frea! Some more have run off, down to the Wind Stone. Wulf Wild-blood, Oslaf and Fanari! They’re all gone!”

Frea felt a chill of dread run up her spine. Three more had gone? Wulf, one of Dar’mhirr’s friends, was one of them. That was his second time disappearing. Oslaf and Fanari had never been taken like this before, but Oslaf had spoken out against Dar’mhirr at the stone last time. And Fanari was the one who gave the order to have him transferred to the Shaman’s hut as a prisoner.

All in all, she was feeling less and less confident in the Khajiit’s truthfulness.

“I…uh…get some villagers together and go wake them. See if we can’t undue whatever has befallen them. Dar’mhirr managed to free them with a simple slap yesterday. Try that first.”

Baldor nodded and ran off while Aeta looked up at Frea nervously. Frea never wanted to scare her, but there was a time and a place to tell her.

“Let’s go,” she said as comfortingly as possible. As they walked off, she glanced back at the hut where Dar’mhirr was being held captive. Nikulas was in there, holding guard. He would do his duty.