Kavel Book 1 - Bloodmoon Born - Prologue Part 2

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Kavel Book 1 - Bloodmoon Born - Prologue Part 2

Previous Chapter: Prologue Part 1.

From the Annuals of Kavel Bloodmoon as told by WolfGrimDark. For more great stories on Nexus check out the Nexus Writers List.

PDF Version: Trying something new and providing Kavel’s stories in PDF format.

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Kolfinna had remained in her cabin since they had boarded the ship in Solstheim. The captain had come down twice to check on her, asking if there was anything she needed, surprising both her and Bron. Whether his kindness was out of the large sum of gold he had been paid, or a genuine interest in her welfare, was hard to say. Kolfinna, however, felt it was genuine; he had been paid up front after all.



Kolfinna had been too sick to eat much, the motion of the ship and her pregnancy making her nauseated.Bron, however, had adapted fairly quickly to the motion of the ship. He had gone up on deck a few times, eager to see the view and curious about the workings of the ship. By late afternoon he had made a friend of the first mate and earned a bit of respect from the crew by helping to clean the deck. When night approached he returned to the quarters that had been assigned to him and his sister.



“What are you doing Kolfinna?” Bron asked with a curious look and a tilt of his head at the journal she was reading.

Looking up at Bron she explained, “Eh? Oh this? I have been writing down the history of our tribe. All of our records were most likely destroyed by the outsiders. As the last shaman of our tribe it is my duty to preserve as much of our lore as I can.”

Bron’s eyes grew wide at her words. Only the shamans knew how to read and write. To him writing was a mystical act. Smiling, Kolfinna motioned for Bron to sit down beside her. He hesitated a moment then grinned and sat down alongside her on the bed.

“Would you like me to read some of it to you?” She asked, having caught the gleam of interest in Bron’s eyes as he kept snatching glances at the journal. The last few days of stress and horror seemed to fade for a moment and through his weary face the young boy inside nodded eagerly back at her.



Kolfinna opened the journal to the front and began to read about the origin of the Berhamask tribe in her soft melodic voice, speaking with the rhythmic cadence of a bard.

The Berhamask Tribe can trace its roots all the way back to the beginning of the Third Era on Solstheim. A small group of Skaal headed into the wilds of Solstheim to start their own tribal village. Their chieftain, Runa Strongbow, led them deep into the wilds where they made their home.

Only a few months had passed when a great bear began to harass their new village. It raided their larders and attacked their hunters…

While she read Kolfinna felt her brothers heart rate calm and his breathing became more relaxed. When was the last time he had slept? She had been so lost in her own self-pity she had practically forgotten that Bron was still a teenager. Yet he had been taking care of her just as Korst would have had he lived.



Her eyes grew moist as she thought of her dead husband and her voice faltered.She cleared her throat to continue when she noticed that Bron had fallen asleep, his head against her shoulder and his breathing deep and slow. Very carefully she moved off the bed and gently turned him on his side. Sitting next to him she looked down at his face while he slept. Gently she stroked his forehead with her fingers, pushing back his unruly red hair so she could see him better. She and her child would have never made it this far without him; he was a true hero of the tribe. A sudden thought struck her. She went and grabbed her quill and ink and sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed. Luckily the weather was calm and the ship rocked slowly enough for her to write if she was careful.

… another great hero of the Berhamask tribe is that of Bron, son of Bjorn. Barely a man Bron showed his true courage and bravery by saving the last shaman of our tribe and her unborn son. On the night of our destruction Bron guided and protected the shaman Kolfinna through the wilds of Solstheim. During their escape he defended her against further attacks by the Silver Hand and safely brought her to the coastal city of Raven Rock. From there, along with the help of the merchant Tivela, they were able to escape to Skyrim. Without his leadership and clear thinking we would have never survived our flight from the island.



Kolfinna paused, her fingers cramped from the slow writing. A wave of nausea hit her hard and she groaned. Enough writing she thought. Moving carefully, so as not to wake her brother, she crawled into bed next to him and tried to get some sleep.

…

THUD!

“Bears blood!” Bron swore as he awoke with a start as his body thudded against the floor. The ship was tossing and turning violently and it was a struggle to stand. He saw his sister moaning in bed, her face covered in sweat, and her eyes squeezed shut.

“Kol? Are you okay?” He asked worriedly as he felt her forehead; it was hot to the touch.

She turned her head and pain filled eyes looked at him in confusion. She took a few breaths as she struggled to focus.

“Water … herbs …” She finally managed to croak out, struggling to not throw up.



Bron understood immediately; she wanted some of her soothing tea. The last dosage must have worn off while she was sleeping. He looked around and saw they were out of water. That meant going up on deck and then down to the galley. Yet Bron did not hesitate and rushed as fast as he could out of the room and up to the deck.



He struggled with the door to the upper deck, fighting to keep his balance, until he was finally able to open the latch and go topside. He almost wished he hadn’t. A fierce tempest had arisen during the middle of the night and the winds had whipped the waves into a frenzy. The sails had been furled and the crew was struggling to keep the ship on course best they could. At least it wasn’t raining Bron thought as he slowly worked his across the deck to the galley entrance.

A crew member caught sight of him and worked his way over, yelling as he did, “Fool boy, get back to your quarters! This be no place for a landlubber!”



Bron shook his head and shouted over the wind, “My sister … she is sick and needs water. I thought I might find some in the galley!”

The man shook his head in exasperation, “We have barrels in the cargo area, back where you are quartered.” Looking at Bron’s forlorn face he gave a sigh and added, “Come I will show you.”

The man helped him back the way he had come and Bron could only marvel at the man’s sense of balance in such a wind storm. They had almost reached the door to the lower deck when Bron felt a sudden sense of foreboding. The roar of the wind, the crashing of the waves, and the shouts of the crew suddenly faded into the background as an ominous red light painted the ship in its bloody glow.



Bron’s eyes darted upwards and through the wind swept clouds he saw something out of legends; a Bloodmoon. He let out a gasp and stopped which earned him an annoyed look from the crewmate tugging on his arm.



“What is it boy? What are you looking at?” The sailor asked, looking up at the moon and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Bron looked at the man in confusion, how could he not see it? He opened his mouth to explain when they both heard a scream of pain echo up from below.



“Kolfinna!” Bron yelled, dislodging himself from the crewmates grip and making a mad dash to the door. In a panic he fumbled with the latch until the seamen pushed him aside and opened it for him.

The two of them sped to Kolfinna’s rooms and burst in just as she let out another ear-piercing howl. Her bedding was soaked and the sailor swore rapidly, “Sweet Mara but her water has broken! Seen it before with me own sister. Stay with her I will fetch the bloody surgeon.”

Bron was at a loss of what to do; no training had ever prepared him for this. So he did the only thing he could think of. He knelt by his sisters side and held her hand. The moment he did she tightened her hand around his like a vice. She continued to moan in pain but her screams stopped.

She turned her sweat drenched head towards his and croaked out, “Please, stay with me.”

Bron nodded, “Of course Kol. I am here for you. Whatever you need.”

His presence calming her she managed enough focus to control her breathing in rhythm to the contractions. They were coming longer, stronger, and closer together. It would be soon she knew.



The surgeon and the helpful crewman finally returned. Clean sheets quickly replaced her soaked ones and water set to boil for sterilization. The surgeon started barking out orders to the other two men as he wiped her forehead down with a damp cloth. He took another cloth and soaked it in the boiled water. Twisting it he let her bite down on it, helping her to concentrate and soothing her parched mouth and throat.

The surgeon turned and looked at Bron, “Your sister has entered active labor. Is this her first baby?”

Bron gulped and nodded.

“Very well we could be in for a rough night with this storm raging. Just keeping holding her hand like you are doing. She will let us know when the child is ready to come out.”

…

Bron glanced over at Kolfinna as she lay sleeping with her child. The surgeon had wiped the baby clean, clipped his umbilical cord, and then wrapped him in a soft cloth before giving him to Kolfinna to hold. When she felt strong enough she had breast fed him. Afterwards the three of them had sat together in peaceful silence, amazed at the miracle of birth and the wonder it had brought.



The tempest had faded shortly after Kolfinna had given birth to her son. When he was sure she would be okay Bron excused himself to get some air on deck. It was with little surprise that he saw the moon had returned to its normal color. Perhaps he had hallucinated the whole thing. Feeling the need for open space he remained topside until well after sunrise.



The Captain had stopped by and politely asked how Kolfinna was doing. Bron explained both she and the newborn were doing well. Salt-Sage congratulated him on being an uncle and said they should be in Skyrim by the next day; a bit delayed as they had been blown of course by the sudden storm.



After the Captain had left Bron went and stood at the railing and looked out over the sea. With the immediate crisis over his mind began to worry about the future. So many unanswered questions still loomed in his mind. The biggest being how was he going to get his sister and his nephew to the place in her vision? But they had made it this far and he wasn’t about to give up now.

He glanced up at the sky and swore, “We will make it Kolfinna, I swear it!”



…

That evening, as they were getting ready for bed and saying goodnight, Bron realized Kolfinna had still not named the child.

“Have you thought of a name?” Bron asked tentatively, knowing that a child was traditionally named in a formal ceremony attended by the parents and the High Shaman.

“Korst and I discussed a few but hadn’t been able to settle on one. I am thinking of Van, which means hope in the old tongue.”

“That would be a fitting name I think.” Bron agreed, trying to hide a yawn in the process but failing. A moment later Kolfinna did the same.

She smiled, “If the captain is right this is our last night aboard the ship and possibly our last chance to sleep safely. We should take advantage of it while we can.”

…



At some point during the night Kolfinna woke to the sound of the baby crying. Sensing that he was hungry she let him breast feed while she propped herself up against the back of the bed.

A sad smile crossed her face as a single tear rolled down one cheek. “Oh Korst you would be so proud.” She whispered softy. Her heart ached for her lost husband and her tribe. She felt lost but at least she was not alone; she doubted she could have survived that.

“What do you think little one? Are you our hope made flesh? Should I name you Van?” She said quietly as she held the infant close.

* No. *

The word was an echo of a whisper in her mind. Startled she looked around. Bron was asleep and she could sense no other presence in the room.

* Born out of blood. Born of the blood. Born last of the blood. Thrice blessed. Thrice cursed. He is a child of the Bloodmoon. *

There was no doubt this time. After being silent for so long their Prince finally contacts her. Her training as a shaman warred with her emotions as a mother and widow. Why now? Why not when they needed him most?



She bowed her head and whispered, “My Prince. You come at last.” She must have failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice and thoughts for she felt a surge of anger and annoyance from all around her. The voice spoke once again in her mind.

* Do not judge what you do not understand Kolfinna. *

She bristled at his words and patronizing tone. Her grief spurred her anger as she cried, “I understand you abandoned us when we needed you most!”

To her surprise the sense of anger she had felt faded to one of inquiry.

* Is that what you truly believe? *

Kolfinna wanted to give a heated reply but she stopped herself. Controlling her emotions she considered his words. Korst had warned her about Herma and she had always suspected that something else had been behind their inability to transform. While it was not Hircine’s way to help his children directly there was also no reason why he would have removed his blessing. Besides, she realized, Bron had been able to change later which suggested their ability had been blocked, not removed.

“No milord. But I don’t understand why this happened. My tribe, your tribe, all gone except for the three of us. Why?”

Fury was her answer. A rage so deep and primal it would have unhinged her mind had it actually been directed at her. Words as hot as molten steel bit at her mind making her cringe.

* Because of the scheming and plotting of my brother, Prince Mora. He wants Solstheim under his control. By killing my followers he reduces my access, and hence my power, over my territory.*

Kolfinna waited for more but it seemed the Huntsman had said all he was going to say on the matter. After that display of anger she was not about to risk having it directed at herself. Slowly she felt the red haze of fury surrounding her fade as it was brought back under his control.

* Do not fear shaman of the Berhamask. Not all hope is lost. But first you must get to safety. Follow the signs to my shrine in the grotto. Prove to me you are worthy of my help. Reach its safety and I shall protect you and your family. *



She nodded. She had hoped for more but had expected no less. It was not the way of Hircine to coddle the weak. Yet she also knew he would protect his children, his pack, if they were deemed worthy of his patronage.

“And my child? He is but an infant, unable to protect himself. Sometimes the strong must protect the weak.” She asked.

The Prince’s mood shifted once again, as wild and unpredictable as the hunt itself, as he voiced his amusement.

* Words of wisdom from one so young. Do you think to educate ME little shaman? It is the duty of you and your brother to protect your child. I am providing you a home. All you need do is but reach it. *

Kolfinna pressed her luck no further. Even if she had wanted to risk it her pride would not allow it. She bowed her head in respect, “It shall be as you will milord. Might I ask a question?”

* You may ask but do not expect me to answer.*

“What did you mean when you said my child was a child of the Bloodmoon?”

The atmosphere around her shifted its emotional mood once again, only this time it caught her off-guard for there was a sense of sad regret in his answer.

* I can only say your child was born under the sign of the Wild Hunt and hence has my interest. It is also why he shall have the honor of being named by the Lord of the Hunt. From this time forward it is my will that he be known as Kavel, Child of the Bloodmoon. *

Her eyes widened in surprise at the name. Kavel meant “night” in the old language. It was fitting she mused. He had been born during the night of a Bloodmoon, a mark of favor in Hircine’s eyes.

“Thank you milord.” Kolfinna whispered in respect.

She felt the presence briefly reach for her infant and then it vanished as quickly as it had arrived. A moment later a sudden and powerful weariness overtook her. She barely had time to make sure Kavel was comfortable before she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

…



Nelthas scowled as he entered the Retching Netch tavern and looked for a quiet place to wait. His ship had just arrived and he was eager to pursue his escaping prey. Yet his employer insisted on having a discussion with him so here he was wasting time in the local tavern. He preferred less talk and more action.



While he waited he carefully analyzed and reviewed everything that had happened so far, checking to see if he had many any mistakes that his employer might find fault with. Nelthas had been skeptical when first approached by the pale Altmer who had identified himself as Lord Arom, although a lord of what he had never explained. The man wanted him to lead a bunch of thugs on a werebeast hunt. Nelthas was an assassin, not a leader of men. Yet the amount of coin Arom had offered had, in the end, been enough to convince him to take on the job.

With his usual attention to detail Nelthas had first gathered intel on the residents of Solstheim and their targets. He had expected support from House Redoran, the ruling government of Raven Rock, in tracking down the beasts. Instead careful probing revealed that Redoran had made trade agreements with the clans and thus turned a blind eye to the rumors that they were children of Hircine. The official stance stated there was no proof and that such rumors amounted to nothing more than fairy tales and wild speculation. Nelthas, however, was not fooled. He knew their weak economy was the main reason they worked with the tribes. Most likely they had an unwritten agreement that each group mind their own business outside of trade.



Thus Nelthas had to undertake careful planning to bring in roughly a hundred men for the mission. He posed as a wealthy merchant who wished to do survey work for opening a new mine on the island. The rulers of House Redoran thought him a fool, an impression he encouraged. With some well-placed bribes and a willingness to pay their outlandish “survey fees” they had granted him all the access he needed. Over two months he shipped in his small army, mostly Silver Hand mercenaries disguised as miners, laborers, and guards, to their base camp a league outside of the city.

Everything had gone smoothly right up until the actual attack on the Berhamask village. Lord Arom had given him a small number of poisoned silver blades and a magical fetish that would cloud their minds and block their ability to transform into beasts.

It was the fetish that finally set off some mental alarms in his mind but by then it was too late to back out. There were few things that could turn his stomach but the fetish had. Engraved with eldritch runes it was bowl shaped with a spike at its bottom. Impaled on the spike was the desiccated head of a hagraven. The fetish was activated by the blood of one of the Berhamask. Nelthas doubted he would ever forget the image of the hag-ravens head coming to life, cackling madly as he poured fresh blood into the bowl. Lord Arom had explained the spell would last for as long as the head had blood to drink.

The charm had worked as promised and their attack had been a total surprise. What they had not expected was the sheer ferocity of the tribe even in their human form. Out of roughly a hundred men less than two dozen Silver Hand survived. If Lord Arom was coming to tell him to take out the second tribe he was going to need more resources.

Then two of the werebears had escaped into the wilds forcing him to send three of his best men to hunt them down. His annoyance grew further when he discovered they had failed to capture the two fugitives. But that was nothing to his cold anger at being tricked by the locals and watching his two fugitives sail away from underneath his very nose.



He had then discovered the two escapees had been aided by a powerful merchant of House Redoran, effectively preventing him from exacting his revenge. Instead he vented his frustration by kidnapping two of her staff and interrogating them at his camp. He now knew the survivors names, descriptions, and a rough idea of where they were headed. Kolfinna and Bron, brother and sister, seeking to escape to some sanctuary in Skyrim. Of particular interest was the knowledge that the female was pregnant. Tracking two werebears was a risky venture even for Nelthas. The fact that one was pregnant might help even the odds in his favor. Of course he did not plan on going alone; he had handpicked the best of the Silver Hand to accompany him. At the very least they would make a good distraction as cannon fodder.



He was just about to order a second brandy when he finally saw his employer. Nelthas, ever the professional, kept his face carefully neutral although he would have liked nothing more than to wipe the smug look from the man’s pasty white face. Lord Arom sat down without a word and studied him through steepled fingers, his expression bored and filled with disdain.



“It seems that your reputation exceeds your abilities Nelthas. A teenager and a pregnant girl apparently were too much for you to handle.” Lord Arom finally stated as he sat back and studied the assassin before him.



The only reaction from Nelthas was a slight narrowing of his eyes as he responded, “I'm an assassin not a field commander. If you hire me to do a job outside of my specialty than I can’t be held accountable for mistakes arising from such a situation. As it is I would already be on their trail as we speak were it not for the delay caused by this very meeting. A meeting I hope has some purpose besides pointing out what I already know?”

If Nelthas had hoped for a reaction from the mer he was disappointed for Lord Arom merely shrugged before replying.



“Only that you are to pursue the two werebeasts and finish your mission. I have made other arrangements that have removed the need to kill the Frostmoon clan. I suggest you leave quickly. Your bumbling on Solstheim has alarmed House Redoran.Once they figure out what you have done your life won’t be worth a Septim around here.”

Nelthas gritted his teeth but held his temper. Much as he wanted to stick a knife through the Mer’s head it would be bad for business. Instead he merely nodded, “I will leave as soon as we are fnished. How shall I reach you when I am done?”



Lord Arom smiled nastily, “Such confidence. Let us hope, for your sake, that you do not fail me a second time. When your mission is complete return to my estate in Bruma. Either myself or one of my servants shall see to your reward. ”



Nelthas nodded and stood to take his leave. Lord Arom dismissed him with an arrogant wave of his hand. As Nelthas sped to his ship he decided that once this mission was over, and Lord Arom was no longer his employer, he would pay the Mer a night time visit.



Cracking his knuckles Nelthas moved to the front of the ship and looked out over the sea. He was getting ahead of himself; first he had to take care of his runaways. A cold smile crossed his face as he began working on his plan.

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ENB: Noir ENB for the Black and White; Grim and Somber (mixed presets) for the rest.

Notes: Oops, looks like this will be three parts not two for the main prologue. The next chapter will take them across Skyrim as they seek Hircine’s sanctuary.

I kept with my plan to not show Kolfinna or Bron directly. Instead I left it with the feeling that these are memories from the past. However, as Kolfinna went into labor, I switched it over from the BW to color to indicate Kavel’s official arrival into the world.