Chapter 96: A good day

Body armour is almost never comfortable. It's heavy, it pinches and digs into your skin, and it limits your movement. Were it not for my enchanted 'Tireless' belt and the artificial strength I developed since the accident with the crescent-moon 'emblem', I doubt I would have been able to walk around in armour all day as I had become accustomed to. Still, it felt good to be rid of that smelly bearskin armour, and back in my favoured Netch and Adamantium. Part of that was probably due to relief at again being behind metal plates that could actually stop blades. The fur armour had kept out the cold, but not much else.

It was the morning after my return from Solstheim, and I was keen to see that whole business brought to a close. I used Wolfen castle's 'teleportation pillar' (for want of a better name) to reach the Balmora Mages Guild, and there asked Masalinie to send me on to Ald'ruhn. Louis Beauchamp and I had arranged to leave for each other with Steward Edwinna; and she told me that I could probably find him at the Ald Skar Inn - he had been renting a room there. I was a little surprised that Louis had actually struck up the nerve to speak to a woman, given his personality - and his drive to possess the Amulet of 'Infectious Charm'. Perhaps it helped that Edwinna paid very little attention to the world outside her books.


Sure enough, I found Louis sitting down to breakfast in the Ald Skar common room. I sank into a chair opposite him, and dropped the airship captain's journal next to his plate. The wizard looked up at me, startled. I held up the amulet I had taken from Hrothmund's Barrow, and his eyes fixed upon it.

"Is that..." he croaked. "Is that...?"

I pointed to the journal.

"Read that first."

I waited while he bent over the book to read, watching his face. He paled slightly when he saw Roberto Joduin's name on the journal, and the rest of the colour drained from his cheeks as he turned the pages. He looked back to me, moving slowly. Unwilling to make eye contact, he focused on the space just next to my head. He looked so stricken that I knew there wasn't much I really needed to say.

Getting back to my feet, I dropped the Amulet of Infectious Charm on the open pages of the journal.

I hope," I said quietly, "that you find that this was worth it." I headed for the door.

Louis caught up with me at the exit, and pressed a large pouch of coins into my hands. He was surprisingly well-spoken:

"I am sorry about the loss of life on my airship." He said in a quiet voice. "I will notify the families of the crew-members... and I will take full responsibility."

I noticed the amulet was clenched tightly in his hand, and glowing oddly. The wizard gestured at the sizeable number of drakes he had given me.

"I promised to pay you for delivery of the amulet, and for information on my crew, so... take that. You have my thanks for the trouble you went to."

It was about the best I could have hoped for, I suppose; given the circumstances. Nothing could bring those crew-members back; but at least Louis was willing to take responsibility for dealing with their families. I returned to the Guild Hall.


When directing me to Louis, Edwinna had added that she had another job I could do for the Guild, if I was interested; and to come speak to her about it once I had finished with Beauchamp. Doing some work for the Mages Guild seemed like a good way to occupy myself while I decided what to do about Caius, so I went to see what she wanted.

As it turned out, all Edwinna had for me was another simple fetch-and-carry task: another book for her research into the Dwemer people. She wanted a rare book called 'Chimarvamidium', which was in the hands of someone at the Vivec branch of the guild: an Altmer named Sirilonwe. Edwinna seemed to hint that I might need to 'borrow' the book without Sirilonwe finding out about it - but apart from that, it sounded like another dreary errand better suited to an apprentice.

However, this was the third task that Edwinna had set me, and you may remember that I mentioned that this third task actually led to something quite significant...


The Vivec branch of the Mages Guild was its headquarters on Vvardenfell, but I had never spent much time there. I had learned spells from several of the members there; but as to the rest of the Vivec branch regulars, I couldn't put names to faces.

Sirilonwe was part of the latter group, but she recognised me as soon as I stepped into her chambers:

"Oh - hello!" She stood up from her desk. "Edward - Edward Frost!"

I was surprised - though perhaps I should not have been, given the curiosity that had followed me since the mysterious transformation of my face.

"Oh... yes..." I fumbled; "nice to... meet you."

"Sorry;" she said, smiling slightly; "I've seen you passing through the hall before - and everyone talks about you, so..." She paused, before extending a hand. "I am Sirilonwe of Dark Copse."

I clasped her hand for a moment. It looked very small in my own gloved hand. The illusion was especially noticeable because Sirilonwe - like all Altmer (or 'High-Elf') people - was very tall. She rose more than a full head above me.

Sirilonwe was really quite striking, actually. She had long silver hair down to the middle of her back, golden skin, and golden eyes. But her eyes! They were the largest, most expressive eyes I had ever seen on an Altmer woman: indeed on anyone. The skin around her eyes was darkened, almost as if it begrudged their amazing size. She wore a very long, deep red dress - the same colour as her lips.

I suppose I must have been staring, because Sirilonwe awkwardly went on:

"Yes... everyone talks about the things you've done for the guild, and how you came to own that castle - and about other things, too." I felt her eyes upon the crescent-shaped mark on my face, its glow peeking through the locks of hair I habitually let hang across it like a curtain. "Still, we haven't heard much for a while... What have you been up to?" She cocked her head, regarding me steadily with those eyes.

And somehow, I found myself telling her: nearly everything. I told her everything that happened on Solstheim: the cold, the bargains with Captain Carius, the vicious weapons smugglers, the death of all those soldiers in the attack on the fort, my role in healing many of them, my search across the island for the missing airship crew, Tymvaul and the Mantle of Woe, the final discovery of the fallen airship... and always, always the constant fighting.

I went further and further back over the things I had done since arriving in Morrowind (though I left out Caius, my release from prison, and the whole business with the Blades). Killing Daedra for the goddess Azura, and her gifting me with 'Azura's Star' (I showed Sirilonwe the many-pointed soulgem), the story of the Guardian in Wolfen castle, the work I had done for both the Imperial Cult and the Tribunal Temple...

Sirilonwe seemed to find the fact that I had worked for two competing religious orders interesting, and asked how this had come about. I told her that I found aspects of both doctrines interesting, and believed that both the Cult and the Temple did good things - and that prompted her to believe that my apparent impartiality there meant that I had an obvious scholarly bent. She began to tell me of her own studies. She was quite interested in all sorts of creatures; especially the differences in the way they thought and conducted their lives. From the aquatic Dreugh to the Bosmer or Breton - even spirits and the undead; she studied them all, with the common thread of trying to understand the differences in the way they thought.

She became quite animated as we spoke. Before I realised it, we had passed hours in conversation. I had become accustomed to not speaking at length with any one person: what with my time alone in an Imperial prison cell, and the amount of time I generally spent way out in the remote wilderness. I hadn't really noticed before - and it had never bothered me - but just then, looking across at Sirilonwe, I realised I was missing something.

Eventually, Sirilonwe stood up.

"I need to go to lunch now... Oh!" The Altmer woman gave a sheepish grin. "Was there something in particular you wanted from me? I'm afraid I distracted you..."

It didn't even occur to me to lie. I asked her if I could borrow 'Chimarvamidium'; to look through it with Steward Edwinna.

"You're working with her now, then? Not many people stay with Ranis very long, I must say." She gave me a wink, and fetched an old-looking book from a drawer. "Well, here: I don't mind, if it means you have a reason to come back and see me again."

With another bewitching smile, Sirilonwe handed the book to me.

"So hopefully it won't take long for you to finish." She added.

I too had a smile on my face as I left, and went to ask to be teleported to the Ald'ruhn guild hall. I was unsure what to think about my hours-long conversation with Sirilonwe... but I wasn't stupid. I knew something had passed between us.


"Ah - good. Excellent." Edwinna said, taking 'Chimarvamidium' from me. "Now, I'm sorry to put this upon you so suddenly, but we've had word of a disturbance in the home of Huleen, a Mages Guild member in Maar Gan. I really should send someone to investigate, and you -" she rapped her knuckles on my Adamantium breastplate - "are certainly dressed for the occasion. This will count as another official task for the guild. Are you able to look into it right now?"

I accepted without hesitation; it sounded a welcome change of pace from book-delivery.

In a few minutes, I was on the 'roof' of the Falasmaryon stronghold, tucking my Master Index back into a pouch at my belt. Folms always made time to teleport me to the propylon chambers, no matter what he was doing - something I greatly appreciated. The sun was shining and there was no wind to whip up the layers of ash on the ground. After battling the elements on Solstheim for a few days, it was a joy to see fine weather again. The clear weather made the journey from the Velothi stronghold to Maar Gan take much less time than it had previously, too.

Once in the small village, I was directed to Huleen's dwelling; a small Redoran-style hut on the south-eastern edge of town. Apparently all Edwinna had been told was that there was a 'disturbance' at the hut, and that was all. No word on exactly what kind of disturbance. I hovered outside the shell-shaped hut for a moment, listening - but there was only a deathly silence from within.

With my blade drawn, I cautiously pushed the door open - and was immediately set upon by a small brown scamp, that began to hammer frantically on my Adamantium greaves with an iron shortsword. The creature had been lurking quietly on the other side of the door. I think I was too used to Creeper: I actually considered, for an instant, grabbing the scamp and carrying it out into the wilds, before letting it go. I was wearing strong Netch-leather gloves, after all.

However, scamps were considered one of the 'Bad' Daedra, and this one showed it when it discovered the area at my knee that was not protected by an Adamantium plate. When the thing almost succeeded in stabbing me in the back of the knee, I had to end it. The scamp was dead in a single stroke.

I searched the few rooms of the hut afterwards. The place was in disarray: furniture toppled over, clothes strewn about, pages torn from books - that sort of thing. Huleen was nowhere to be found, but in a locked storeroom I did find Listien; Huleen's apprentice. He was completely naked.

"You killed it? Oh, thank the gods!" The young Breton man pushed past me and started looking for something among the wreckage. "I... just wanted to show Huleen that I'm not useless! I summoned the scamp, but it tricked me! It started tearing the place apart, and it took my clothes - I had to hide in the storeroom."

Listien straightened up, a pair of pants in his hands. He was staring at them with a horrified expression on his face. A hole had been chewed through the seat, as if the scamp had tried to wear them as a top, and had not been able to find the hole where its head should go. Despite myself, I began to laugh - and though I felt a little sorry for Listien, I couldn't stop. I couldn't remember the last time I had actually laughed out loud. Most of what had happened to me since arriving on Vvardenfell had been no laughing matter - and my time in prison before that was obviously nothing to chuckle over either.

But right then? It had been a good day.

Chapter 95: Drifting

I had failed. It had taken me three days to reach the foothills of the Moesring Mountains, counting from the morning I first entered Fort Frostmoth at Solstheim's southern tip. There were delays, obviously - but necessary ones: when I first arrived on the island I had not the equipment or the knowledge needed to reach the Moesring mountains. However even if the delays were not, strictly speaking, my fault; it may have cost those men and women their lives.


Judging by the grisly remains of the airship crew... actually, I couldn't judge from the remains; they had been eaten by the wolves and other beasts there. They could have died several days prior to my discovery of them - or they might have died the previous night. I couldn't tell. They might, I thought to myself, even have died upon being thrown from the airship when it came to ground.

This last theory turned out to be - at least partly - correct. Hunching over the pages to keep too much snow from falling on them, I quickly skimmed through the journal I had found. It belonged to the captain; one Roberto Joduin, and was not very long. Only the first few pages were filled: it looked like he had started the journal upon taking flight in the ship.

As I mentioned, the journal told a grim story. The expedition to find the Amulet of Infectious Charm sounded doomed from the start - Joduin wrote of the airship "trailing bits and pieces of itself" from the moment they left Ald'ruhn. He went on to tell of an Argonian crew-member that apparently went mad from a fear of heights, and tried to force the ship down into the sea. The captain wrote that he had been forced to kill the Argonian, and throw him overboard.

The trouble did not stop there, of course: they had actually spotted the Hrothmund's Bane formation from the air, and were looking for a place to land when a blizzard overtook them. Joduin wrote that the airship was blown into the ground by the strong winds in the blizzard. He had obviously survived the crash himself, to write as much in his journal; though most of the crew had not (as I had guessed).

That was the last entry in the journal. It was understandably a little hard to follow, but it sounded as if the blizzard that brought the ship down had continued into the night, and the surviving crew-members had been unable to take shelter in the hold of the ship because ice and snow had blocked the way in. All the remaining crew-members had died of the cold that night, according to Joduin - and it seemed likely that the captain had suffered the same fate himself: the last words in the journal were lamenting the infernal cold.

Of course, he may instead have been killed by a wolf, or a bear. There was no way to tell; and no need to know, in any case. I stowed the journal in my pack, planning to give it to Louis Beauchamp. There were things in there he needed to see. All that anguish, those lost lives - for a magical trinket the pathetic wretch believed would make him 'irresistible to the ladies'. I almost teleported home right then, intent on making Louis see the result of his obsession... but I didn't. I didn't feel quite like speaking with anyone right then - I needed time to think.


The slopes of the Moesring Mountains rose sharply to the west, and, using my levitation magic, I flew up the mountainside; face upturned to the falling snow. I knew where I was going: Joduin's journal had included detailed-enough directions to Hrothmund's Bane. As I ascended through the drifting sheets and flurries of snow, I thought about my reasons for coming to Solstheim. It was to search for the missing people on the airship, of course - but it was also to have some time alone, to consider what Caius, the Blades Spymaster, had told me of my release from prison. With my failure to reach the airship crew in time (and Captain Falx Carius almost certainly dead - and definitely lost without a trace), I really had no further reason to remain on that frozen island. I needed to reach some conclusion as to what I should do when I returned to Vvardenfell.

I was not in doubt over my own thoughts regarding the idea that I might be the Nerevarine: I did not believe it, pure and simple. What was bothering me was that Caius appeared to actually believe it. I had followed the spymaster's orders up until that point because I had believed that he knew why I had been released from prison. And he had, but the reason for my release was ridiculous! I was grateful to be free, of course, but it was insane! Edward Frost: orphan and thief, from the streets of the Imperial City in Cyrodiil: reincarnated Dunmer hero and centrepiece of a Morrowind prophecy? How could that possibly be?

And now Caius seemed intent on placing me on a collision course with both the powerful Tribunal Temple and the dangerous Ashlanders! Groups with brittle tempers both. Had I still a reason to follow the spymaster? Was he still - had he ever been - in his right mind?

I felt as if I was drifting like the snow. I did not know what to do next, if I could not follow Caius. Obviously there was the search for a cure to my condition - but there was, of course, no clear definition to that pursuit. If there was, that is what I would have been working at, rather than wasting my time in a miserable place like Solstheim. Really, the only good that had come of my visit there was that I had been able to save the lives of a number of Legion soldiers after the attack on Fort Frostmoth.

I was no closer to a decision when I reached the peak of one of the mountains, quite some time later. It was nearly sunset, and what little light penetrated the grey banks of snow-clouds was failing. Still, from my vantage point near the top of the mountain, I could see quite a way. Laid out in a depression beneath me was the rock and ice formation called Hrothmund's Bane - and I could clearly see how it resembled the shape of a wolf. There was no need for the height afforded by - say, an airship - to identify it.

Strangely, off in the far, misty distance - beyond Hrothmund's Bane - I thought I could see something that resembled a great castle. In the encroaching darkness and the veil of bad weather, however, I could not see clearly. In the next moment it looked nothing more than a wall of ice worn by the wind into an unusual shape - and then it was lost behind the darkening snow-clouds.

Louis had said that the entrance to Hrothmund's Barrow (which was said to hold the Amulet of Infectious Charm) was at the 'eye' of the wolf-shaped ice and rock formation. With the help of the ever-useful Tinur's Hoptoad spell and my 'Infallible' belt, I was able to reach the 'eye of the wolf' (so to speak) in one great leap - passing over some quite treacherous and slippery-looking terrain.

I found the 'eye' to be a mass of worn boulders, jutting out of the mountain. There was a gap in the middle of the boulders where a mass of thick, dirty-looking ice had collected into a curious shape. I was leaning in to examine it when a great, booming voice sounded out; as if coming from the collection of boulders before me. It felt as if my skin was about to leap off my body, I was so badly startled. The mysterious voice spoke in a rhyme:


"Some they call me Hrothmund's Bane,
with midnight teeth and moonlight mane.
I am the wolf one soul may tame,
by uttering my given name.

But speak the truth, for those who lie,
gain not the wealth beyond my eye!
Answer false and evermore,
closed shut will be my icy door.

What is my name?"


I was at a loss for words. Was there some spirit trapped within the barrow, set to terrorise intruders? It didn't actually sound very malevolent, if that was the case. Then I remembered: Louis had told me to speak the name of the wolf that had killed Hrothmund to open the way to the barrow. That would have to be what the disembodied voice was asking for.

"Ondjage." I said, once I had found my voice. The rhyming began again:


"You spoke the truth and won the game,
for Ondjage is my given name."


The voice fell silent after that, but as it repeated the name 'Ondjage', there was a tremendous -crack-, and the mass of dirty ice split in two; revealing a dark passage into the mountain.

Once inside, I found myself in a barrow that looked just like the one in which I had helped Ingmar defeat the Valbrandr draugr. The strange booming voice had mentioned 'wealth beyond his eye', but all I found besides a few rotted strongboxes of rusted armour was a large battle-axe buried in a stone plinth (which I tried, and failed, to remove), and the amulet Louis had sent those men and women to an early grave over.

I sensed magic within it: an enchantment that acted upon the user's mind: to make him or her more confident - as best I could tell. There was something else behind that, though: magic relating to disease, and sickliness. After a moment I sensed that it was not beneficial magic - not by any means. It seemed that using the amulet could actually make one sick. I suddenly realised that the name 'The Amulet of Infectious Charm' was probably a play on words.

So. A cursed amulet and a journal detailing the awful deaths of a sizeable number of people - that was what I had to give to Louis Beauchamp.

It was not worth it.

Chapter 94: Found and lost

Once the sun had risen and it was again warm enough to travel Solstheim's wilderness, I teleported back to my Mark near the Rimhull caves. From there I went west, down onto the northern edge of the Isinfier Plains. At first I could see where the grey, glittering Isild River split in two to become the Iggnir and Harstrad rivers, but this view was lost to me as I arrived on the snow-drifts, soil and blasted rock of the low-lying plains.


There were few trees this far north, and therefore very little to break up the chill winds that swept down from the Moesring Mountains looming on the western horizon. The mountains: they were my destination; so I spent most of the day with the wind blowing full in my face. The painfully bright sunlight prevailed for most of the day, though the gusting wind occasionally whipped up enough of the powdery, freshly fallen snow to cast my surroundings in a grey, freezing shadow.

In the early afternoon I spotted a group of men trudging down a gentle hill towards me. For a moment my hopes were raised: could they be the crew of the airship? One of the pale, fur-clad men noticed me at almost the same time, and nudged the man next to him. In a short moment it became obvious that they were not the ones I was looking for: they were bandits.

They all drew weapons and moved to the attack: most had axes and were charging down the slope towards me, but two were hanging back, longbows in their hands. An arrow whistled past my head, and I dashed up the hill a little way to get behind a boulder, cursing to myself. If only I had kept a better watch on the landscape, I might have seen the bandits before they saw me, and been able to skirt around them.

In my defence I was quite bleary-eyed from the constant chill wind - though mainly I was just careless. I had not expected to see anyone in such a remote place, especially highwaymen: there were (obviously) no highways anywhere nearby! I readied my sword and shield, straining my ears to listen for any sound that might give away their positions. I had counted five of them. I had been triumphant in the face of worse odds than that before, of course, but that was usually in relatively close quarters; where it was difficult for my enemy to out-manoeuvre me. On the wide-open Isinfier Plains, I would have to be careful indeed.

Fortunately for me, one of the bandits was quite careless himself; and came rushing around the corner, sticking close to the boulder behind which I was hiding - rather than ranging away from it as he came, which would have been rather more sensible. With one vicious swipe of my Daedric blade, I literally cut his legs out from under him.

As it turned out, the highwaymen had at least had the sense to come at me from both sides at once: a crunching footstep in the snow behind me alerted me just in time, and I leapt forward to escape the whooshing swing of a silver axe. Almost. A searing pain shot up my back as the obviously enchanted blade carved a shallow furrow from my flesh. I smelt burning fur, from my armour - and worse: burning flesh - from my own back. I stumbled forward another few steps, suddenly feeling weak and ungainly. The enchantment in the bandit's blade had set me alight with a flash of magical fire, and was sapping my strength. Save for weapons that paralysed their victims, I had never before encountered a more brutal enchantment.


My leap out of the way of the bandit's axe had taken me out from behind the protection of my boulder; with near-disastrous results. An arrow came in over the top of my shield, burying itself in my arm, near the shoulder. At the same time, a taller bandit in sparkling white fur armour caught up with me and dealt me a powerful blow to my chest with his own axe. I was thrown backwards onto the ground, and had to turn my head away from the burst of magical flame that erupted from the wound, or risk being blinded. There had been an audible crack when the blow landed, and I knew what that meant - even in the tiny instant before the pain blossomed through my body: my ribs had been broken once again.

Wishing that I had not become so familiar with the sound of my own ribs cracking, I struggled weakly to my feet. My strength was still ebbing away, but now it was not just from the foul enchantment in the highwaymen's blades: I was bleeding heavily. Forcing the magic of the Tinur's Hoptoad spell into my trembling legs, I leapt high into the air before the two remaining axe-wielding men could descend on me. I came to rest upon the snow-capped tip of a tall, monolithic boulder, my blood spattering the snow at my feet from the impact. I was out of reach of the men with axes, but the archers would still pose a threat.

Awkwardly balancing atop the monolith, I put my sword away and crouched down behind my shield. I needed a free hand to yank out the arrow from my shoulder (which hurt so much I nearly fell from the boulder), and send healing magic into my body. Once my wounds had closed and I had negated the strength-sapping magic spreading through my veins (numerous arrows burying themselves in my shield all the while), I directed my attention back to the bandits. It was very clear that I would have to kill them all.

The Hoptoad spell was still buoying my body up, and so I took the opportunity to make a wild leap high over the heads of the troublesome archers. I came back to the ground just behind them, but not before landing my 'Holding Field' spell on the pair of them. In two neat strokes, I beheaded the two paralysed men. Now I could focus on the formidable axe-men without worrying that I might receive an arrow in my back.

There were only two left now, and they were close together and sprinting up to meet me. I tried to paralyse them, too; but the tall Nordic man in the white fur-armour shrugged off every spell I threw at him. The other man was not so lucky: just before the white-clad bandit reached me, I vaulted over his head and landed virtually on top of the other (paralysed) man, burying my blade in his head.

The bandit in white fur was possibly the most formidable warrior I had yet faced. Our fight lasted for what seemed like nearly half an hour, and I lost count of the number of times I had to break off and heal myself. He never once gave any indication of giving up and trying to escape - perhaps he was waiting for my stores of magicka to run dry (not knowing, of course, that mine never really did). Eventually I got in a lucky hit and cut halfway through the man's wrist (on his axe-arm). I thought that then, maybe he would give up, being no longer able to even hold his weapon.

But no: he made to grab the axe with his other hand, forcing me to kill him. I thrust my sword through his neck in that vulnerable moment.

I must have been an awful sight to behold after that fight: my armour was sliced, torn, scorched and bloodied. I felt little better myself. I was shaking from adrenaline and fear - I very much disliked facing better warriors than I in close combat. Still, I managed to force my quivering hands into stripping the man of his white, sparkling fur-armour. They seemed to be made from wolf-skin, though I had never seen a wolf with snow-white fur. Just by touching it I could tell that the armour was enchanted to protect against cold temperatures - I recognised the feel of the magic by its similarity to that in my own Elementward ring.

I discarded the pieces of wolf-skin armour I had been wearing (they were damaged almost beyond repair anyway) and replaced them with the white fur armour. I did not replace my bear-skin armour: I wanted the added protection the thicker hide afforded. The rest of the white armour I gathered into a sack one of the bandits had been carrying and slung over my shoulder. It was not overly heavy, and I was sure it had to be quite rare. Perfect for my museum.


Making sure to keep a better watch out from then on, I set out once more; trudging up the steeper and steeper slope to the west. Soon I realised that I was standing on the feet of the Moesring Mountains; sharp-looking, grey and white spires of rock above me. Snow began to fall softly in the late afternoon, and it was through this grey, shifting veil that I saw the ruin of Louis' airship.


I stood and stared at the macabre scene for the longest time, my heart seeming to freeze over and almost stop beating in my chest, such was the despair I felt. At the same time my scalp prickled and my face felt hot with frustration. After all the trouble I had gone to on that island; the pain, the danger, the near-constant fighting for my life, and the absolutely-constant, will-sapping cold; I had found the stranded airship crew...

But... the only sound was the ghostly hiss of the falling snow. They were all dead. I could see their bloody, reddened bones half-buried in the snow all around the wrecked hulk of the airship. The thing looked like a normal wooden boat, only with several still-clanking and -clamouring Dwemer machines bolted to it in various places. It looked as if it had fallen from the sky.

Tearing at a near-fleshless corpse was the largest wolf I had ever seen: a wolf with snow-white fur. Instantly I knew what sort of creature the sparkling, white fur-armour had been made from. I shouted at the thing in an attempt to scare it off, but the wolf, its muzzle stained red with the blood of man or mer, snarled and threw itself at me instead. The monstrous thing was nearly as tall as I, and I certainly did not want it to get close enough to bite me.


I slashed the beast across the throat as it made to fasten its jaws on my leg. With a series of horrible, gurgling yelps, the massive wolf tore off into the nearby trees... probably to die.

Clenching my teeth, I set about the grisly task of surveying the scene of the crash. Next to the tangled mess of blood-stained bones the wolf had been attacking was a book - a journal. I gingerly crouched in the red snow around the corpse and picked it up.

It told a grim tale.