The Wheel Turns Upon
Chapter 3
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Four Years Later…
The sounds of wood striking wood echoed across the plaza repeatedly in a rhythmic, yet high paced song of duel.
Two opponents locked in heavy combat, only made not lethal by the composition of their blades, danced to and from each other's reach as they struck back and forth again and again. Each trying to get the advantage on the other, each trying to down the other by the might of their sword.
To a common man's gaze, it would seem that both were locked evenly in a harmonious balance of violence. Yet those who knew the way of the sword could pick up minute differences between the stances of the two.
For once, the opponents were not of even height or build. But those were not the traits that eroded the dance's balance.
The taller of the two was slightly faster, slightly stronger of attack, slightly better. Yet the other, shorter, was of far greater tenacity and would not let up. Even as the others observed that his body was burning from the continuous strain it was put on.
But that perseverance was not enough.
And slowly the difference in power grew progressively until at long last, the shorter, black haired youth was being pushed back by the taller, blond one into a defensive stance.
One wooden blade shot forwards for a 'killing' strike, only to be parried away by the blade of the other whom used the opportunity to close the distance and try to make his own. But the weapon did not reach to touch the flesh of the other opponent, and instead, a kick to the midsection of the smaller youth sent him back and there it ended.
With that small opening the blond took advantage and with a fast paced flurry of blows finally struck the other's blade out of his grip and the wooden tip of the weapon pointed straight at his throat and with a triumphant grin on his face.
"I win yet again Erik." Said Jon the Gilded with a grin on his face at the defeated.
Whom sighed and loosened his stance. "You win." The shorter boy said, holding no tone of defeat, just a matter of fact.
There was a small round of applauses. A pleasantry at this point as this same scene has been repeated enough times for the onlookers to have forgotten the quantity of which.
It was always the same thing, happening the same way and ending in the same result.
Erik and Jon would engage in a match that would be decided when one or the other loses their weapon or claims defeat when the wooden blade of the other hits what would have been a fatal blow.
Jon grinned, taking his leave, but decided to throw in a last jab at Erik who was recovering his weapon. "I would say to improve, but it seems that your growth has remained locked as it is. You should leave the sword, embrace the path of the mage, the thing you seem good at."
However, Erik's counter came back in a heartbeat with a smile attached for extra point. "But then you would have no one to defeat and rub your ego all over, Jon." That immediately set of the blond nord's ire, who turned to the smaller man with rage in his eyes.
"Why you little…" But immediately stopped when he laid eyes on the breton's own.
"Yes Jon, we Bretons are tiny." The tone was cheerful and harmless, but the blood red glow in the lad's otherwise blue eyes was a warning that could not be missed unless one were blind and foolish. "It's rude to keep reminding those vertically challenged of their deficiencies." Jon really wanted to smack that arrogant mage over, but knew that if there was one thing Erik was skilled at, was his thrice accursed sorcery and Jon was not willing to test just how good it really was against living targets.
But any other argument that could have sparked was silenced by the interruption of a greyskin's irritated tone. "Alright you two, knock it off. Some of us actually want to do something productive with our time." Jon wouldn't have taken the dark elf brat's argument so easily as no greyskin has any right to tell him what he can or cannot do. But in this instance, he may permit it, as it got the dangerous glow off Erik's eyes and returned them to their normal, sky blue hue.
Erik turned to the mildly annoyed Dunmer and smiled, gesturing to the small opening that was used as an arena. "Sure thing Andolin. The floor is all yours."
As the new pair of fighters took to the stage, Erik walked off to the side-lines to watch the fight in peace and rest up from the previous engagement.
"You know…" A voice said to his side and Erik turned to the origin. "Some people would say what you're doing is plain madness. Trying the same thing over and over again expecting different result." It was a tall, somewhat lanky nord youth with somewhat short dirty blond hair and amber coloured eyes. His features were sharp, though not like anything a high elf would have.
Erik huffed with exaggerated indignation. "For your information, I have improved." Then his eyes turned to the much brighter blond with blue eyes that was making his leave. "Just that high born cunt over there also has."
"Your sharp tongue has though, if nothing else."
Erik snorted. "I am sorry, but I am feeling at a disadvantage. I know not your name and you are already dissecting me like a sabre tooth cat dissects its prey."
The blond rolled his eyes, "Not surprised. You really don't talk to people much." To which Erik shrugged.
"I'm kind of insular like that. Then again, most people would not approach me for idle chat anyway as they know I am a mage." Erik said, gesturing himself and his attire, that, while not quite that of a mage, did show a few pieces of cloth being slightly too long.
The tall blond inclined his head, as if agreeing with the breton's analysis. "True." He said, then half turned and extended a hand out as a greeting. "The name's Bjarke by the way. Your name I already know, so no need to introduce yourself, Erik."
The Breton grasped the outstretched hand in a firm shake, but his mind was elsewhere. "Bjarke… Bjarke." He said, tasting the name out loud. "Where have I heard that name before?" Then his eyes lit up. "Oh! Now I remember you!"
The teen named Bjarke lifted one thin brow. "Do you now?"
"Yes! You are one of the twins!" Said the shorter youth. "Back from where we were in the Temple of Julianos!"
The proclamation actually surprised the nord for a moment. "You remember us that far!" Truth be told, Bjarke also remember Erik from back then, but mostly because few forget a display of red magic in their first day of tutoring. Especially when it's a fellow student that does it.
Erik though, simply grinned. "I'm joking." He said, and Bjarke frowned in annoyance. Before the nord could express his annoyance, the smaller youth continued. "Though I am glad that I made a correct guess. I actually remember you from whenever you pop around to bring Thonrigg supplies and charcoal. Though I still remember that my class had blond, blue eyed identical twins, which… one of them is you I suppose."
"You know Thonrigg?" Asked the nord, mildly interested as to how the boy with raven hair knew of the blacksmith.
The answer was rather enlightening. "He's teaching me to smith." Said Erik with no small amount of pride. "Basically we made a deal. I enchant everything he makes three days a week and in exchange he makes me his apprentice." That explains it, but it also leaved Bjarke quite astonished as well. He knew Thonrigg made a lot of weapons a week, and they were all of good quality. And they were all enchanted with a magical effect on top of that.
So this is the source of the blacksmith's arcane weapons. The man must consider Erik an invaluable boon to his business as enchanted weapons and armours are always on high demand, regardless of how much nords distrust magic.
But it begged a question in exchange. "How come I don't see you if you work for him?"
"I mostly do the enchanting inside the house. Sun's brightness makes it harder to make fine arcane bindings. The glow of the enchantments help me tell if I am funnelling too much energy or too little." Erik explained. "Also, you bring the supplies in the morning, while I practise smithing in the afternoon, so we don't see each other anyway."
"Ah." Makes sense now that Bjarke thought about it. He never once went over to Thonrigg's shop in the afternoon, so if what Erik said is true, then it makes sense that they would not see each other at all.
"So, if you have a twin brother, where is he? Do you swap places every second day? Assume each other's life's for a day to mess with people?" Erik asked, a wide grin on his face. But it was an expression of merriment that Bjarke did not reciprocate.
Mostly because anything regarding about his brother brought him a deep sense of sadness. "I wish I could." He said, in a tone conveying deep melancholy and loss and… perhaps a fair bit of guilt, something that Erik noticed and looked at the blond youth with worried eyes. Sighing, Bjarke decided to elaborate. Erik and him may not be friends, but, there is no point in not telling him. "My brother lost an arm and a leg a couple of months ago." Eri's eyes widened in shock. "House burned down with the two of us inside. Part of the roof came crashing down on him and he got badly hurt." Bjarke did not say that it was thanks to Bjorn that he was still alive. If his twin brother had not pushed him out of the way… he doubted that he would be alive when that part of the roof came crashing down on them.
Bjorn should have, for all intents and purposes died on that incident. There was a piece of wood literally spearing through his abdomen and had lost his leg on the spot. It was only thanks to the healers that they managed to save him and even they said that it was a miracle by the gods themselves that Bjorn was still alive. His brother was always the stronger of the two, always more spirited and more happy.
And even now his twin pulls a tough act as to reassure the rest of the family. Going so far as to smile and work as much as he can despite only having one arm and a wooden fake leg for support.
But he cannot lie to Bjarke. He knows that Bjorn is sad, hurt, and angry he is so weak now.
And Bjarke has never forgiven himself for being the lucky one.
"I… I am sorry." Erik's voice took him back from his reverie. His voice solemn, and trying to convey as much sympathy as he could.
A kind gesture, but one that was not needed. "Don't be. You had nothing to do with it." Bjarke said.
Erik shook his head. "Still. I have two younger brothers, both identical twins and they are inseparable." He said, looking away at where two boys were fighting with their wooden swords, but not watching the battle proper. "And my sister. She may not be my twin, but we were the same age when I was adopted so we are kind of 'fraternal' twins like that. I wouldn't know what to do if something were to happen to her. For it to happen to you… To your twin brother…" He left the sentence unfinished, hoping to convey the meaning behind the silence.
It was true, siblings that have been raised at the same time are always either very close or in conflict. Erik seemed like the former of the two types.
Bjarke nodded, slowly. "Yeah. Thanks. But don't bother yourself over that too much. He is doing better and has gotten the hang of walking with a fake leg." He turned to the mage at his side, thinking. Then he spoke. "You are not too bad. Certainly much better than what people say about you."
That got Erik's face to sullen somewhat. The breton's eyes rolled in annoyance before he spoke. "Personally I wouldn't put much stock on rumour. People just love to spread gossip, even if it's a complete lie." Then his brow twisted into a frown. "Then those tend to mess with people's lives. Imagine someone starts spreading rumours that some local harmless priest is actually a worshipper of Namira and practises cannibalism and a slightly overzealous person believes them."
"Judging from your tone you know how it feels?"
Erik shrugged. "Well… I am a mage."
The nord blond nodded in a nonchalant 'makes sense' kind of way. While he had not been part of the gossip spreaders themselves, he has heard a few tales about Erik from people. Usually ones that tend to paint the mage as a figure whom one should not even share a seat with or else they may find themselves cursed for the rest of their lives. There were some that were simply plain exaggerations. That he can eat the souls of people to make himself a stronger sorcerer. Still, though he was curious. "Care to share some of those experiences?"
Erik frowned… though it actually looked closer to a pout. "Oh this and that. Some crazy lady said that I was summoned a daedra one day." He said, then turned to the nord with a serious look. "Total lie by the way. I simply animated a golem with my own magicka." Then his face turned into one of annoyance. "Then one of the nutjobs of Stendarr decided to listen to miss crazy panties and made an investigation on us."
"The Vigilants?" Bjarke asked, mildly surprised.
Erik's face, told him everything. "Yep."
The two then descended into a long session of inane talks, ranging from topics like religion and the Divines to the basic hygiene –which Bjarke then privately promised himself to revision how he did everything in his life from that point on- and even favourite hairstyle.
It was only when the sun was already getting covered by the buildings and the chill air of approaching night that their conversation finally ended.
"I think it's getting late." Erik commented, looking at the vanishing form of the sun as disappeared behind some buildings.
Bjarke followed his gaze and nodded. "Most of the others have left, yes." He then turned to Erik with a smile, hand outstretched as a farewell handshake. "I guess we shall see each other sometime. Nice talking with you Erik."
Erik smiled back and gripped the other boy's hand at far end of the writs. "It was a pleasure as well." He said, and then the two went their different ways.
As Erik strode past an interception, and then stopped when he came face to face with someone he though was already at their house. Grass green eyes and long wild and wavy maroon red hair with a milky white skin, all dressed in a simple, form fitting gown with a long skirt the colour of cobblestone.
Helga.
She was standing with a smile that hovered between proud and mischievous. "I see you made a friend."
Erik cocked and eyebrow. "Were you just waiting for me here all this time?"
"Maybe." She said with a sing song tone. Then it vanished as she grabbed her brother's hands and looked like as if he had suddenly grown up from being a child. "I am so happy for you! Finally you made your first friend without my help! This is reason to celebrate!" Erik was not amused.
"Sister, I am not socially inept."
"Of course you aren't." Her tone was pointedly, not of sarcasm. It was heavy sarcasm. Big difference according to him. "And it only took you three years to realize that Marilith had fancy eyes for you."
Erik's eyebrow twitch. "How was I supposed to know that?" Erik exclaimed as he threw his arms into the air. "Besides, why didn't you tell her that I find vaginas disturbing?!"
Helga's evil smile told the Breton half a story. "I wanted her to hope before I crushed it."
"Now I know why you two aren't friends anymore." Erik said in deadpan.
"She stole my favourite stuffed bear. The one you made for me." She looked away, eyes dark and like those of a vengeful serpent. "She needed to pay." Erik had a face that was in-between a frown and disturbed.
"Thank you for reminding me that you can be very vindictive when you want to."
Helga smiled like an innocent saint. But to Erik it was an evil, evil saint. "You're welcome."
Sighing, Erik, then continued his walk back home with his sister in matching step at his side.
He thought that their walk would go on in peaceful silence.
Until Helga pulled this out of her mouth: "By the way… I found a recipe for love potions in your cabinet. Are you going to use it on him?"
She got turned orange for her troubles.
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The doors to their house opened and two voices peered through into the warm embrace of their home. "We're home!" Both Erik and Helga spoke at once, and then their faces twisted into ones of confusion when they saw what lay on hall.
Their younger twin siblings were on the floor. One looking so tired that he seemed like if he had been running for hours nonstop, his breath laboured and heavy. While the other one was covered head to toe in as many blankets as they could spare and place on his form, shivering all the while.
Erik was the first to recover, and asked a question that has been repeated in that household more times than any of its inhabitants care to remember at this point. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF JULIANOS DID YOU TWO IDIOTS DO?!"
"We're sorry…" The tired one mumbled from his sprawled form on the floor.
"I-i-it wo-won't-t-t ha-ha-happ-p-ppen ag-g-gai-n-n…" The other shivered through gritting teeth.
Not wanting to ask the two trouble making red heads, Erik turned to the hall and called out. "Mom! What did Gutric and Ymthric drink?"
"Ask Yalma dear." Came back the reply from the kitchen.
Erik looked around for the youngest sister, whom was seating on a nearby couch with a look on her face that simply begged the question of 'How am I even related to these two imbeciles?'. Having heard the small exchange between their mother and eldest brother, the little blond girl simply turned and procured a pair of bottles from the foot of her seat and showed them to Erik. "These things." Erik did not need to read the labels to recognize what the contents of the potions were. Lethargy plus Weakness and Weakness to Cold plus Resistance to Heat. He did not need to think hard how they even came into possession of the alchemical compounds and why. They made a bet, and Erik knew that Gutric has some skills picking locks. "I told them not to get in your room, but those two never listen to me." Why is it that the youngest of the house seems more mature than the elder two?
Erik turned to the two red headed idiots, his voice threatening to enact bloody murder. "You two…"
The screaming tirade of verbal homicide he descended into would have made any onlookers rather worried of what may be happening in the household to elicit such a reaction. But those part of this family were used to it. It was the usual natural cycle, except it was not grace of Kynareth that governed it, but the mischief of twin siblings and the rage of their eldest wanting to strangle them for being such irredeemable idiots and doing stupid things that could get them killed.
Erik would have to update his locks. Those two were getting too good at breaking them.
Deciding to let the twins get a bit"Where is pa?"
"Seating on the backyard sweetie." Quickly thanking her mother, Helga went out the door to the open backyard their house had and leaped at her father's back and embracing him in a warm hug.
"Papa!" She said happily, which her father reciprocated by pulling her over and around to return the gesture.
"My snowberry. How was training with the boys?"
She grinned. "Still beating everyone."
"And your brother?"
She grinned even wider. "Still losing to that inbred idiot."
Yolfrind had to hold back a sigh. "I would have scolded him for constantly failing against Jurgen's boy, but I know that he is giving himself several handicaps, so I guess I shall have to forgive him yet again."
Helga let go of her father and frowned as she thought about her brother. "I still wonder why he doesn't just take his seals off. He could beat just about everyone there and then pick a fight with half the guards in Windhelm for the fun of it." She said as she took a seat of her own and grabbed a bottle of mead before getting a taste of the alcoholic beverage.
Really, Erik was far stronger than most of the boys there. Plus with his enhancing magic he could face at least half of those at training all on his own at once. Considering how their father trains them and how much he trains on his own, it is little wonder why. And then there is the fact that Erik starts and ends his day with a Restoration spell.
The only people that can take the fight back to him would have to be the Court Mage and Helga herself as she was stronger than him physically, if not magically.
"And that is why I never drink." Erik's voice turned Helga's attention to the boy emerging out the door, his expression one of disapprovement. "I remember what happened last time when you got drunk and I had to place a curse on you so that you didn't set half the hall on fire." His eyes were glaring straight at the mead bottle in his sister's hand and she smiled weakly.
"Just a bit?" His glare did not abate in the slightest. It was one of those things he did not budge even a single inch on. Huffing in annoyance Helga put the bottle of mead down. "I hate you."
Erik merely rolled his eyes. "When you turn eighteen you can bust your liver to the point that I may have to get a vampire to turn you to save you for all I care, but I am not letting you get any dumber with all that alcohol until then!"
Helga pouted angrily. "You're no fun!" She grumbled. "It's no wonder you will never get wed!"
Then the two fell into a long argument that Yolfrind tuned out for the sake of his sanity, but internally smiled like if he were the luckiest father in the world.
Things have changed over the years and his children have grown. Erik technically changed the least, though that may have to be because of what he was. But even so…
He looked at his adopted son, how his every insult and threat to his sister hid a sliver of concern for her wellbeing and improvement. Most fathers usually boast that it was them that were the biggest influence in their children's lives. But in this case, he proudly let himself be in second place. At least when it came with his little Snowberry.
Erik was Helga's biggest influence. He always kept pushing her to become stronger, smarter, better. Yolfrind believed that his son did not have an equal in magic skill. But he taught Helga to the point that she did not lag far behind.
But most importantly, he taught her control. He taught her discipline. He taught her restraint. He taught her how to use her magic responsibly.
His smile escaped his inner mind and poured into his lips.
Long gone were the days that he looked at his child in worry of what he may become.
It took years, but at long last he understood what Erik truly was.
'You crazy?! That's evil! Do you have any idea how wrong it is to trap and use soul like that? I will never use soul gems for enchanting!' And never once he did.
'Well… if I figure out how to make artificial bones I won't have to kill anything to get them right?' And he did.
'I'm going to help the priests at the temples to heal people! That way I can practise my restoration magic and aid people at the same time!' And now there are dozens who owe their lives to Erik.
His son is a good person who does good whenever he can, there is nothing else to it and nothing else important about him. Does not matter whether he is a mage or a warrior, or anything else.
And he could not be happier and more proud.
Finally, Yolfrind snorted in amusement. "You know you brother just wants the best for you Helga." He secretly enjoyed the look of utter betrayal from his red haired daughter.
Helga groaned as she slumped back into her chair, "It's like I have two moms!" She then turned her glare towards her brother who was grinning like a total jerk. "Except one is a complete hen!"
Erik stuck out his tongue her way before snipping back at her. "Well, you will have to deal with this hen until it says that you can drink. And so do the rest of those brats!" He said taking a glance indoors, specifically where the twins were still complaining in their predicament. Erik having opted that a suitable punishment for them is to have the potion's effects wear off on their own with no cure to accelerate the process.
Hopefully that would teach them, but Yolfrind knew that those two would get themselves into trouble soon. They had their mother's habits of getting into trouble without end.
"At least I can take solace in the fact that my suffering will not be alone."
And now it was time to turn the tables back on his son. "Erik, since you lost against Jon today you must beat your sister in a duel." He grinned. "No magic. And if you lose then you can't use any magic for the rest of the week." Sure there were only two more days until the end of the week, but Erik was essentially addicted to using magic, so it was the very definition of torture for him.
Erik's blue eyes turned wide like platters as he looked at his father with an expression of true, utter dread and treachery. "Dad! Why would you do this to me?!" He asked/exclaimed in horror.
Something that Helga was very much pleased for and rocked back on her seat, grinning savagely at the chance of taking revenge on her sibling. "Oh! If I win I can drink these two bottles of mead!" She lifted two mead bottles before smirking like a predator at Erik who was simply too horrified to argue back. And then she did one final statement. "No arguments against it!"
A long drawn groan of despair escaped from Erik's mouth as he contemplated his chances of victory. They were not good. "She's going to kick my ass seven ways to Sundas…"
Yolfrind did not bother containing it any longer. He simply laughed.
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Helga was grinning like a predator. Her steel sword gleaming in the light of the seven candlelight spells that illuminated the backyard in the umbral blanket of the night. "Ready?"
Erik, on the other hand, was not so optimistic. "Read-" Then his eyes widened and his stance became loose. His head swivelled and turned to the sky, eyes narrowing as he looked at something at the heavens.
"Erik?" Helga's voice called to him, but Erik did not look at her. His eyes remained in the sky. "Is something wrong?" Erik remained silent still.
But before anyone else could ask again, Erik finally turned to them, his face in a deep frown.
Yolfrind, his father, frowned. "What's wrong?"
Erik looked at him, and his next words made a chill run down the spine of everyone present. His son's eyes showing genuine fear for a moment. "I felt like being watched."
.
.
.
At a long distance beyond the sight of mortal eyes and hidden amid the snow filled carboniferous forests, a figure in clothes of black closed their shining blue eye as they cancelled their spell.
"How far you have grown, my little snake." Their voice deep and distorted. "We shall see each other in a couple of years when all is prepared for." And then he vanished into the night.
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AN: Okay, this was perhaps the most difficult chapter I have written as to date. I had to rewrite it over I think about four times. And personally, I am not sure if I am pleased with it. My brain is mush and its nearly 2 in the morning. My brain is mush, if you find a way to make it better or something, please let me know cus I am too… sleepy…zzzzzz
