Part 2
“No law ever written is as powerful as cold steel.”
“Come on, you bloody n´wah!” shouted Venhen from the balcony. “Are you going to just stand there while that Blue Team bastard´s hacking you to pieces?”
Down in the Arena, an Imperial wearing Yellow Team colors was standing with his back against a column of marble, hiding behind his steel shield, while his opponent, a tall Breton wielding a bastard sword, was hacking at him, constantly hitting the Imperial´s shield.
It was almost as if the Imperial heard Venhen, for he suddenly moved from harm´s way, the bastard sword striking the column, making the Breton drop his weapon. The Imperial then swung with his short sword at the Breton’s head, but he dodged under it, rolling towards his sword. But the Imperial was really fast with his short blade and managed to cut the Breton across the back in the middle of the roll. The Breton cried out and tried to crawl for his weapon.
The Imperial raised his hands and shouted.
“Finish him!” yelled Venhen, clenching his fist with its raised thumb pointing downwards. The audience demanded more blood and the Imperial gladiator was more than happy to oblige. He buried the short sword into Breton´s back, severing his spine. The crowd cheered, and to Venhen it sounded like rolling thunder.
He sat back against his chair and poured some wine into his goblet. “Did you see that, Suneus?Another two hundred septims in my pocket.” There was no answer, so he turned around to find out that Suneus wasn´t there. Where in the Oblivion was that old mer?
The door leading to his private bunk opened and Suneus appeared. “My lord, mister Umbacano wishes to speak with you.”
Umbacano? What does that Altmer want now? “Very well, let him in, Suneus,” he said and rose up to greet the Altmer collector. Suneus let him in and Venhen smiled. “Dear friend, it is great to see you.” He gestured to a chair at the other side of the table, being directed towards the middle of the Arena. He sat and waited for Umbacano to do the same. “Refreshment?” he asked him. “I have managed to obtain some Shadowbanish Wine, but I have to admit, I am more amused by its magickal properties rather than its taste.”
Umbacano raised his eyebrows. “Shadowbanish Wine? I won´t refuse that offer. I always wanted to taste that vintage.” Venhen looked at Suneus and the servant immediately filled Umbacano´s goblet. Altmer tasted it and his eyes popped. “The taste is remarkable, though I find that Night Eye spell rather annoying during day. Everything is suddenly so bright.”
“It hurts the eyes a little, I have to admit,” nodded Venhen. “Can you imagine how much the Legion had to pay for this wine to keep their soldiers warm and vigilant at the same time? Whole lot of money, I guess. But please, friend, don´t leave me in suspense any longer. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Umbacano smiled. “I see that you like to get to the point quickly. Actually I´m glad for that. Can you imagine how tiresome it is when you talk with other Altmer? You have to talk for an hour about unimportant things like the weather until you can speak about the serious matter.” He took another sip of Shadowbanish Wine and narrowed his eyes in pleasure. “The taste is really remarkable. But to the point, my friend. I came here to thank you personally for managing to obtain the carving from High Fane. And don´t worry, I already transferred money to your account.”
Now it was Venhen´s turn to smile, but he couldn´t prevent himself from raising his eyebrows in surprise. “A simple dinner would have sufficed, you didn´t have to come looking for me. That makes me wonder if there isn´t something else you really want to discuss.”
“I can´t hide anything from you, can I?” Umbacano bowed his head. “There is one other matter I could use your help with. I´m interested in a very rare Ayleid artifact, the Crown of Nenalata, and I know where it is. The problem is that it´s in the hands of a rival of mine, Herminia Cinna. And she refuses to sell it to me. I know that you can be very persuasive, that maybe you could...obtain that Crown for me. You will be compensated, of course.”
You and your precious Ayleid artifacts, thought Venhen. Umbacano´s obsession was beyond his comprehension, but he understood one thing very well. It was Umbacano´s weakness and all weakness were meant to be exploited. Umbacano was a rich Altmer with many connections and Venhen was planning to use those connections. So why not to play to this Altmer for a while? “Anything for a friend. I´ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Umbacano replied, leaning closer to the Dunmer noble. “But be careful,” he whispered. “Cinna is not what she seems. She has many allies, powerful and dangerous.”
Venhen smiled. “Well, I think I´ll manage to persuade her to sell the Crown. If not...well, that´s my problem, nothing you should be burdened with.”
“We understand each other completely then, my friend. I bid you farewell. Enjoy the bloodletting,” Umbacano said, raising his goblet to Vehnen before setting it down, a gesture of appreciation.
“Oh, it´s not about the bloodletting, dear friend. It´s about the thrill of betting your money. You can win more, you can lose it, but all of that is now in the hands of someone else.”
Umbacano smiled and walked away. Venhen looked at Suneus. “It seems we have our plans for tonight, Suneus.”
“I´m all joyful, my lord,” responded Suneus with his typical dry stoicism.
Sitting on a bench for almost half a day was certainly boring, but Thrattia knew she had to sit there. Arboretum was a quiet, peaceful place, people usually went there to relax, sit on benches to read or just to enjoy the presence of other people who they could converse with.
One young man approached her, curious if she was interested in some “non-binding” conversation. The way he said that made her feel sick and she showed him her feelings about that. He walked away ashamed, but for all it´s worth, he could have walked away with black eye too.
She was staring at the South Watchtower, planning how to steal those taxes and records. At first, she thought she could climb the tower and get in through the roof, but she wasn´t certain if there was even a hatch. And even if there was, it could be locked. Too many variables.
That meant she would have to find another way inside. And she bet that the soldiers there wouldn’t be very happy about her just walking in and grabbing what she needed. She had to find a way inside, undetected. Judging the diameter of the tower, she imagined that there was only one room per floor, with ladder connecting each of them. That meant there was no place to hide. She would have to pull this off in front of everyone´s eyes.
She closed her eyes and focused on the energy flowing in multiple currents through the fabric of the world, air and every living creature. She plunged her hands into one current and clenched her fists, pulling that energy to her. She then opened her eyes and suddenly red mists materialized around every living creature in Arboretum, even through walls. That meant she saw a great deal of these red mists inside the tower, with its top floor being empty. So Lex is still on the Waterfront, coordinating the search for Armand and the Bust of Indarys. That made things little easier. But only by little.
The sun was slowly finishing its ride on the sky, hanging low over the walls of the city, giving the white marble more orange tint. She was looking at those members of the Watch in the Arboretum, studying their routes and counting. Two always stood watch near the gates to the other districts. Two other men patrolled the perimeter of the Arboretum. She timed their routes and came to the conclusion that she had one minute for what she wanted to do. One minute was plenty of time.
There was a pond with a small waterfall right before the South Watchtower and the Arboretum Hotel and she headed towards it. It was slightly difficult to reach it, with bushes and branches of trees blocking the way, but that meant they were blocking the sight too. She turned left and went towards the wall dividing the Arboretum and the Temple District. When she reached it, she hid behind a bush close to the waterfall - to dampen the sounds - and waited.
Forty seconds later, an Imperial Watchman drew closer and she whistled. He tilted his head and scanned the bushes and she whistled again. He drew out his silver longsword and marched towards her, still unable to make her out. She drew power from the currents of magicka and a light green glow appeared in her hand. She tossed it in his direction. It struck him and he instantly froze, hitting the ground with his face. She then ran towards him, another spell ready and she touched him.
The first spell was paralyzation, but that wouldn´t last long, she needed him to stay out of the picture for longer, so she cast a sleeping spell on him. That should last at least few hours. She grabbed the man by the arm and pulled. “Damn it,” she cursed under her breath when she found out that the man was so heavy she couldn´t move him.
“Alright, one last spell,” she murmured and focused on the fabric of reality, imagining the Watchman´s body and wishing it would become lighter. She touched him again and pulled again, almost falling on the ground with how easy it was now. She chuckled. She threw the man in full Imperial armor over her shoulder and carried him to her hiding spot. You don´t have to be an Orc to lift someone from a ground. Now came the hard part. She had to get herself into that armor.
While she stripped the Watchman, she tried to reach for the currents, only to find out she couldn´t. So it´s without magic from now on. I´m out of juice. She would have to buy some potion to restore her magicka later. Frankly, she envied those mages whose magicka replenished on its own by the time, but being born under the Atronach Sign for some reason prevented her from that. She could tap on the currents only to cast, not to replenish.
The second patrol appeared and she ducked behind a bush, barely half of the armor equipped. She saw the soldier through the bush, he had stopped to look around. Only when he walked away did she finally allowed herself to breathe again.
When she equipped the armor, she immediately regretted that she burned herself out. The armor was so heavy that she felt like she couldn’t even take a step. In addition to that, the armor didn´t really fit her, it was much bigger and she felt like a fool. Maybe that wasn´t such a good idea. But there was no turning back. She slowly walked towards the Watchtower, thinking of some rational excuses why she was there and why her armor didn´t fit.
It was always better to have a plan.
She got to the entrance and drew in a heavy breath. Just act like you belong here. She opened the door and entered. Directly opposite the door was a table with two Watchmen sitting at it, playing dice. Another was sitting on a chair, reading a book. When she entered, they raised their heads and then continued doing what they were doing. Nothing.
She headed towards the ladder leading to the upper floor and they still didn´t budge from their places. It was really hard to climb that ladder in full armor and she was sweating by the time she reached next floor. There, she was met by the sounds of snoring. The room housed four beds, empty save one. No one else was in the room.
She decided to take a break and sit for a second. She really looked forward to getting rid of this armor. How they can move in that all day? Damn tin-cans. In addition to that, the damn helmet was still falling over her eyes. It was just too damn big for her.
After her break and keeping an eye on the snoring Imperial, she climbed the ladder into another floor. As soon as she climbed out of the hatch, there was an Imperial standing in front of her. This room had four beds too, three of them occupied, fourth empty. Probably belonging to the Imperial standing in her way.
He wasn´t wearing armor, instead he stood before her in a white shirt and brown linens. “I wasn´t aware that a woman will be sleeping with us tonight,” he murmured.
“Well, sir, I...I´m supposed to give Captain Lex a present. A birthday present,” she said, quite shy.
He narrowed his eyes. “That armor is too big for you. You ain´t Imperial Legionnaire. And where´s that present anyway?”
“Well, sir,” here we go, “I am the present.”
Man´s eyes popped. “What?”
“Some of Lex´s soldiers gave me money to please him on his birthday. I am supposed to wait in his quarters, dressed in this damn armor.”
Imperial was watching her and then started laughing, quietly. “You are-” he started but laughed again. “You are his present. Oh boy, this sounds like a prank Junius would pull off. Yeah, go upstairs and wait. Though good ol´ Captain Lex will probably send you away, but maybe that´s the point.” He laughed again. “Damn Junius, haha.”
“Thank you, sir,” she mumbled, blushing and started climbing the ladder to Lex´s room. She closed the hatch and finally took off the helmet. Her hair were all sweaty, sticking to her face and she tucked the damp locks behind her ears. There wasn´t much furniture; a bed, a table with one chair, achest, some drawers and a quill desk. She went to the quill desk and opened it. Inside was a large pouch full of septims and a lot of papers. She quickly rummaged through them, looking for those tax records. She actually had no idea how those records looked, so she was looking for anything with the names of the people from the Waterfront on it.
Ha, here you are. A few papers listing names and the amount of gold to collect. She quickly counted the numbers and then took the pouch, testing its weight. Yeah, that should be it. I doubt Lex took a single coin from it. Damn tin-can captain with honor.
She looked around the room and grinned. I´m feeling little bit naughty now. What should I steal next, dear captain Lex?
She started searching the room, finding two pouches with gold, a silver locket with Lex´s and some woman pictures in it. Yeah, that should piss him off. A ring here and there and a blue vial. Potion of magicka! Haha. She quickly drank it, grimacing at the taste. But once you get used to it, it ain´t as bad as the first time.
She took another look at all the papers on Lex´s desk and her grin suddenly became more sinister. This all looks so important. She took those papers in her hands and her mind reached out of her body, plunging deep into those currents of magicka, swimming, searching and then she found that burning current. She plunged into it and suddenly all those papers were turned to ash. No fire, no smoke, just ash.
This was one of the more delicate tricks she learned in... Her past life. It was about creating, burning something, no, it was about creating fire inside something, in it´s very fabric and structure. Millions and millions of little flames inside every particle of paper.
She already felt she had exhausted too much of her power, that meant she could do probably only one or two spells. It would have to suffice.
Now to get out of here. There was that Imperial downstairs which presented a problem. She told him that she would be waiting for Lex. Wonder how much juice I have left? There was certainly enough in her for the sleep spell, which wasn´t as exhausting as paralyzation spell.
Once again, she drew in a heavy breath to calm herself, put the helmet back on her head, opened the hatch, and climbed down the ladder. As she climbed down, she looked around the room and saw the Imperial now rising from his chair, frowning. She put her forefinger to her lips, so that he understood that he needed to be quiet. He nodded and she climbed down.
“What´s wrong?” he asked quietly, standing in front of her.
“Well, there is something I need to show you,” she responded and touched his hand. Once she did that, she released the magic and Imperial immediately closed his eyes, falling asleep. She caught him and stumbled under his weight. She almost fell, but managed to regain her balance, slowly resting the man on the floor. I´m looking forward to getting rid of this damn armor.
She descended to the ground level, and again, the three Watchmen just raised their heads and then minded their own business. She took the second door leading to the Temple District this time and headed towards the Waterfront.
Easy peasy.
Patience wasn´t an attribute typically associated with Orcs and whoever made those associations were probably right. Orcs didn´t like to wait for anything. They always wanted be on a move, the first to take action. First to strike, thought Sharrum and he snorted.
He was actually enjoying the opportunity to stop the rush of the past day and just...turn himself off. He was standing on a balcony above the Market District, watching the people under him to speed through their daily business. Rush through their lives.
He couldn´t prevent that thought, that memory from surging to the front of his mind. When death calls...don´t be in a hurry to answer. He was young then, not interested in understanding the old. Now, being much older, he understood. He understood both sides, because they were the sides of life, fighting against each other, till the day the young became old and old became dead. A never ending cycle, beginning at the dawn of time and continuing until the end of time.
Someone bumped into him and he almost fell over the balustrade. He turned around to see who it was, but it probably didn´t matter. People were in hurry on the second floor of the District just as they were at street level. The system of connected balconies gave the Market District the ability to expand upwards. New floors were constructed for houses already standing there, creating buildings with three or four floors.
At the ground floor was usually a store, above it was the storekeeper’s apartment. Above that was yet another shop with another apartment above. The important thing was that those two shops were never connected by an interior set of stairs, people had to use stairs outside on the Market to get up on the balconies.
He was standing right above the First Edition, staring at the door of the Copious Coinpurse. The sunlight was waning as the sun slowly disappeared behind the high walls of the Imperial City. People began walking towards their homes, merchants were closing their stores and taverns became louder. Imperial Soldiers were lighting up the lanterns on the streets. The Imperial City during dusk was...a magical place. Everything was suddenly cast in an orange light, giving the white marble and the whole city a look like... a city on fire. Sharrum could watch that show for eternity.
But the hard truth of life was that nothing lasts forever, and the sun reminded him of that when it finally vanished behind the horizon, taking away it´s rays, its light and warmth. Retreating away from the dark.
Time has passed and the streets became empty except for patrolling Watchmen. And he still didn´t move, standing like a statue, staring at the door to the Copious Coinpurse. And then Thoronir walked out.
Sharrum pulled a vial from his pocked and looked at it. He had wanted a potion that would allow him see the living through walls, so he paid a visit to the Gilded Carafe. He clearly knew what he wanted, and yet he left the store with something completely different, his coin purse now almost empty. I´m so weak-willed, Orc, he thought. But it showed how good a merchant Claudette Perrick was. Before he knew it, he was leaving the store with something Claudette called Potion of Cat. Much better than what he wanted. At least that was what she said.
He drank it, with his eyes on Thoronir. At first, nothing happened and he thought he got cheated. But then his perception changed. The night suddenly became much brighter, the light of the torches illuminating the darkness ten times more than they normally would. And then there were the changes to sounds. He heard Thoronir´s steps down the street. He heard his heart beat. He saw...waves moving through the air, every sound creating more waves, bouncing from hard objects. And he smelled the burning oil of torches, the sweat on Thoronir´s back, he smelled his nervousness. It was like he suddenly saw everything at once, his senses becoming one.
Thoronir was moving under the balconies, away from his line of sight, but Sharrum knew precisely where he was. He slowly followed and he felt every unevenness of the ground under his feet. His movements were even...different. As if he was moving without weight.
Sharrum followed Thoronir as he walked along the street, but then suddenly he turned left, heading towards a small garden with a well behind the stores. Sharrum didn´t think, he didn´t have to, because he completely trusted his senses. He ran past the enchanting store, jumped over the balustrade and landed on the roof without making a sound. He sneaked over the roof, close to the edge and peered into the garden.
Thoronir walked towards a man – A Nord, blond hair, his muscles tense, leaning slightly on his leg, smelling of garlic, fungus and dead.
“That you Agarmir?” asked Thoronir and Sharrum realized that the Bosmer couldn’t see in the dark. Sharrum then realized that he was actually in the dark.
“Shhh. Not so loud. How many times have I told you that?” responded the Nord, irritated.
“I´m sorry. I´m not used to this kind of meeting. It always makes me nervous.”
“Well, just shut up and listen to me. The next shipment will be here sooner than I expected. Just have the money ready.”
“Same assortment of things? I mean, I have enough clothing for now.”
“You take what I get. I got a notice in last second and I had to jump on it. I don´t have time to be picky about it.”
“Well, the Society is putting lot of pressure on me. Maybe we should cut back for a while.”
“You cut back now and I´ll take my business elsewhere. Or maybe pay a visit to that Jensine and tell her about your little scheme.”
“Fine, you made your point. Contact me when you have the items and we´ll meet again.”
“Don´t worry. It will be very soon. Now get outta here.”
They each went in different directions, but it was clear to Sharrum who he had to follow. He knew where to find Thoronir, but not where to find Agarmir.
His senses followed the Nord as he went past two Imperial Watchmen, entering the Green Emperor Way. Sharrum looked down into garden, making a decision in a second, and jumped down. Halfway down he grabbed a window ledge, slowing his fall and before his muscles could tighten too much, he let go again. He landed softly in the grass, immediately running towards the gate, slowing only for few seconds while he passed the Watchmen. When he was through, he saw Agarmir ascending the stairs leading to the base of the White-Gold Tower.
Sharrum decided it would be better to follow him from a distance, from the cemetery, using the longer grasses, graves, and mausoleums for cover, using his sense to keep close watch on Agarmir.
And then he suddenly became blind. Not exactly blind, but it felt like that when the potion’s effects wore off. The darkness was overwhelming and his moves lost their elegance. It was him again. Damn, did I really jumped off a roof? Just the thought and the memory of the air rushing past his ears made his head spin. But it was totally worth the money.
But now he had to rely just on himself and his abilities. He crouched and slowly sneaked towards the next gate, watching if Agarmir would descend those stairs and head towards the Elven Gardens District. But he didn´t and that mean he had to sneak some more.
Most people assumed that he wasn´t able to move silently, but occasionally he could surprise them. Yes, he was big and heavy, sometimes clumsy, but sneaking wasn´t really about being small and light. It was about balance, shifting the weight of your feet, tensing muscles at the right time. So yes, he was able to be silent. He only had to move really slowly and hope that no would see him. He was quite big after all.
Sharrum followed the Nord from a distance, quickening his pace from time to time to keep up with him, only to slow down again.
They approached the Talos Plaza District and that was where Agarmir turned and headed towards its gate. Sharrum stopped, hiding behind a grave, peering, watching Agarmir. The Nord stopped in the middle of the pavement, looking around. Sharrum completely ducked behind the tombstone, not even able to breathe. Then he heard footsteps and saw Agarmir walk through the gate. He waited few seconds before he followed.
He approached the gate casually. He didn´t want to receive any unwanted attention from guards - if that was even possible for such a huge Orc. They watched him with suspicious eyes, but did nothing, letting him pass.
Sharrum saw Agarmir walking down the street. The Orc stopped and hid behind a corner. Agarmir could turn around anytime and see him, and he was quite easy to spot. He searched his memory for something, anything he could use to help him.
There was a beggar, he realized. A beggar lived nearby, No-Coins Draninus. It took him only a minute to reach the garden where the beggar slept.
He crouched in front of the sleeping Imperial and touched his shoulder. “You asleep?”
“What?” mumbled the beggar. “I don´t sleep, I´m unconscious.”
“Easy, Draninus,” whispered Sharrum. “It´s me, gro-Durol.”
“Sharrum?” squinted the Imperial. “What´s going on?”
“I need a favor from you. Agarmir, a Nord with blond hair, smelling like dead Dunmer. You know him?”
No-Coins Draninus nodded. “Yeah. I know ´im. He has house here.”
Sharrum smiled. He had deduced that already, but this gamble proved to be worth it nevertheless. “I need you to watch his house. For the rest of night. You think you could do it?”
“And what´s in it for me?”
“Fifty Septims,” said Sharrum. “Up front.”
“Oh, now you’re talkin´,” smiled Draninus, standing up. Sharrum gave him his coinpurse with the rest of its gold. He knew there was a bit more than fifty gold in there and Draninus was about to find that out once he looked inside.
“I´ll come back in the morning. With more gold, alright?”
“Blessing of Mystara upon, ye.”
Sharrum frowned. “Who in the Oblivion is Mystara?”
No-Coins Draninus shrugged and walked away. Sharrum shook his head. Damn beggars. They´re all crazy.
He was late to the meeting in Black Rook, he´d better hurry.
It was shortly after sundown and Venhen and his servant were walking down the street of the Elven Garden District towards a specific house. Not Ules´ house, no, they were heading towards a house to conduct negotiations for a certain Ayleid Crown with Herminia Cinna. Venhen was thinking about surprising her, not giving her time to prepare, but then he decided it wouldn´t be wise to come unannounced. So he sent one of his men to ask for a meeting.
He was surprised he got his answer so quickly and more surprised that Cinna wanted to meet this very day, right after dusk. He looked at Suneus. “Don´t you find it strange she wants to meet so quickly? I guess she knows what I want when I wrote her that I would like to buy a specific Ayleid artifact.”
“Maybe she doesn´t need to prepare,” shrugged Suneus.
“Come on, she must know I work with Umbacano. If she is as dangerous as Umbacano says, she has to know that, I´m sure of it. So why doesn’t she stall? To hide the Crown or refuse the meeting right away?”
“You seem excited, my lord,” remarked his servant and Venhen smiled.
“Excited? I´m thrilled,” he chuckled. “This seems so dangerous. Meeting after dark, a mysterious lady with dark connections, an innocent and naive young lord, his old and crippled servant...it´s all like some play you see in the theater.”
“An innocent and naive young lord? Who are you talking about?”
Venhen’s face took on a wounded expression. “About me, of course. Isn´t that obvious?”
“No.”
“You and your stoicism, Suneus. Maybe that´s why I like you. It´s quite refreshing, you know? All those boot lickers and ass climbers are so tiresome. I don´t want to hear that I´m always right.”
“You do want to hear that, my lord.”
Young Ules frowned and then laughed out loud again. “See? That´s precisely what I´m talking about. But would you be so kind as to not embarrass me in front of this Cinna? Much obliged, my servant. You´re precious.”
“I didn´t agree,” murmured Suneus.
“I know, I´m just anticipating your positive answer. Oh, and here we are,” Venhen said, raising his head to look upon the house. “Aren´t you sometimes tired of this Imperial architecture? I mean, every house looks from the outside as every other. Actually, it´s quite refreshing when you think about it. You’ll never know into what your feet will step.” He didn´t wait for an answer and showed at the door. “Would you be so kind and knock, my loyal servant?”
Suneus grimaced and knocked few times on the door with his cane. They waited for few seconds in silence and then the door opened. A middle-aged Imperial man with long brown hair, and a linen shirt and brown vest, stood there and invited them in with a gesture. “Lady Cinna awaits you.”
Ules smiled and walked in. He was greeted by typical ground floor of the Imperial structure, with middle class furniture inside. A dining table, the kitchen behind the corner, a small bench for reading, a few cupboards and closets. This certainly doesn´t look like the home of some noble.
Herminia Cinna greeted them from behind the dining table, rising from her chair and pointing at the chair on the opposite side of the table. “Welcome. Please, sit. Refreshments will be ready in few minutes.”
Cinna was an Imperial woman past her prime, with wrinkles under her brown eyes and brown hair slowly greying, though Ules noticed that she dyed her hair. He bowed and headed towards the table. “Thank you,” he smiled, lifting the chair few inches above ground, and walking with it towards Cinna. He noticed how her servant tensed, his hand going under his vest, reaching for something.
“Please, may I sit at your side?” he asked and saw the servant relax when Cinna nodded. Venhen looked at Suneus and smiled. “I find it so impersonal when two have to sit at opposing sides of the table. It creates an impression of distance between people, sometimes even of animosity.” He put the chair back on ground and sat down, to the right of Herminia. “And I´m not here as an enemy, but as someone who shares your passion for Ayleid history and what remains of it.”
“You´re here because Umbacano sent you,” she coldly observed.
“Oh, but that would imply I have no free will,” laughed the young Dunmer. “And I am prepared to defend my free will, clearly proof of free will.”
“You want to buy my Ayleid Crown, right? It isn´t for sale, at any price. I would think Umbacano would know that by now,” she cut right to the chase, which was quite refreshing in Venhen´s opinion.
“And why do you think I´m working for Umbacano and that I want the Crown?”
She grimaced. “Save your breath. He´s the only one who knows I have it. He´s tried to get it from me for years.” She leaned in closer and her voice turned threatening: “I will never allow the Crown to fall into Umbacano´s hands. He´s far more dangerous than you realize.”
Umbacano? Dangerous? Those were two things that didn´t sit well with each other in Venhen´s head. Yes, Umbacano wasn´t very scrupulous when he was on the hunt for Ayleid relics, but dangerous? “Well, now you have surprised me, and that´s something that doesn´t happen often. I thought Umbacano was merely a harmless collector.”
She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Far from it. His interest in the Ayleid is not that of a mere scholar. He hopes to unlock the secrets of their magical power. And if you know anything about the Ayleids that ruled Cyrodiil that should make you very uneasy.”
The young noble looked at Suneus standing close to his chair. The servant was watching the man who opened their doors with a gaze as if he was trying to kill him by just looking at him. Venhen decided to let it go, Suneus was just like that. Over-protective sometimes. He turned his attention back to Cinna, his interest in that Crown now increased. “So how dangerous is it?”
“I´m afraid I don´t know for sure. I wish I had a more persuasive answer, but hear me out. The Ayleid Crown which Umbacano wants is not simply an ancient work of art. It has certain superficial magic powers, true, but its real power is hidden. However, my studies of the ancient text make it quite clear that it is the key to dangerous magickal powers which should be left dormant.”
“Let me guess, lady Cinna. Umbacano will not give up.”
She nodded. “You´re right. Even if I persuade you, he´ll send someone else, someone less able to reason. But what if…” she hesitated for a moment, thinking and then she looked into his eyes. “What if you brought him another Ayleid Crown?”
Venhen frowned, puzzled. “What other Crown?”
“My own research into the Late Ayleid Period suggests that there wasn’t a single Ayleid ruler, but many. They were a bitterly divided people, with many warlords vying against each other for power. Their ultimate demise was brought by their own civil strife at least as much as by the rebellion of their human slaves.”
“Please, continue,” spurred her Venhen.
“My crown, the one Umbacano covets, belonged to the ruler of Nenalata. I´ve learned of another crown that belonged to the last ruler of the rival city of Lindai. Since Umbacano has never laid eyes on the real Crown of the Ayleids, I doubt he could tell the difference. In any case, the other is also a real Ayleid Crown...just not the right one. I think we could all sleep better if you brought him Lindai´s Crown instead of the Crown of Nenalata. Here,” she pulled something from under the table and offered it to him. A small key of white marble. “I happen to have the key you´ll need to enter the royal burial chamber in Lindai. I hope you´ll make the right decision.”
He took the key and inspected it closely. Key of marble. Interesting. He looked at Herminia. “You seem very sure Umbacano won´t tell the difference.”
“The Ayleid city of Lindai was a bitter rival to Nenalata, the city of the so-called Last King of the Ayleids. Umbacano may not be able to tell the difference between Crown of Linda and the Crown of Nenalata. It´s at least worth a try. I know I don´t want to find out what terrible power Umbacano could unleash using the Crown of Nenalata.”
“Thank you for the history lesson, lady Cinna,” he flashed his most dashing smile. “But I would still like to negotiate the price of the Crown you possess. Trust me, I would prefer to buy it from you.”
She was watching him, unmoving, with frown on her aging face. “I hoped I would be able to persuade you, Venhen Ules of House Hlaalu. I know who you are, who you really represent.”
Venhen raised his eyebrows and leaned back on his chair. “Seems like you did your homework. Did they say something interesting about me?”
“That I shouldn´t trust you. That´s why I prepared for your arrival,” she shrugged and then snapped her fingers.
There were footsteps coming from the kitchen and Venhen turned around. A huge Orc in black leather armor came into room, his face partially hidden under a hood. He was wielding two nasty-looking orichalcum daggers in his hands.
Someone then appeared on the stairs out of thin air, crouching, with arrow nocked on his bow aimed at Suneus. If Venhen would have to guess, it was Bosmer, based on the small frame. The Imperial servant also revealed a steel dagger.
Venhen looked amused. “Are those Dark Brotherhood assassins?” He looked at all three and smiled. “I´m impressed. Not by them - though they do look intimidating - but by your swift action. Did you really manage to hire them in half a day? Amazing. And no less than three. I´m quite flattered.”
“I admire your calm, but you´re going to die in few seconds,” she frowned even more. “Do you realize that?”
Venhen looked at Suneus. “Well, I wouldn´t be so sure about that.”
And the old Dunmer, servant and friend, called Suneus, moved.
In one move, he pulled a thin blade from his cane like from a sheath, threw the cane at the archer on stairs, turned around, and before the Imperial could move, Suneus blocked the hand with dagger with his forearm and stabbed the man into throat with his thin blade.
The cane struck the bow right in the moment when the archer released his arrow, unsettling the assassin’s aim, causing the arrow to hit the ceiling.
Venhen noticed out of the corner of his eye how the Orc leapt forward, daggers raised, with the intention of burying them into young noble´s neck. Then in a flash, the Orc was stopped in his tracks by a steel dagger protruding from his left eye.
Suneus then charged the archer before he could knock another arrow, slashing with his thin blade. The archer jumped down from the stairs, but it seemed like if he stumbled and then he fell on his face, the short handle of Suneus´ cane protruding from his back. Suneus lifted his cane, pulled out the blade, wiped it off on the assassin’s leather and sheathed it back into the cane.
Herminia Cinna then suddenly breathed and raised her hands with fire dancing on her fingertips. Before she could cast, Venhen moved his hand and suddenly she had a dagger at her throat, with drop of blood on it.
“I wouldn´t move if I were you,” said Venhen to her and then his eyes found Suneus. “That was quite slow, Suneus. That Orc almost killed me.”
“Dark Brotherhood dogs,” spitted Suneus on the assassins´ corpse.
“Now my dear, Cinna, maybe you could tell me where you hid that Crown. And don´t think about casting some nasty spell. You probably even can´t. I did my homework too,” smiled Venhen. “This dagger is enchanted, you know? Of course you know now. You must feel your magicka being drained. So? Where is the crown?”
“Upstairs,” she gasped. “In the closet, there is a fake wall. It´s hidden behind it.”
Suneus went upstairs and Venhen´s smile widened. “You probably wonder how that old man was able to kill three Dark Brotherhood assassins. Well, it´s quite easy. According to him, they´re just losers, nothing compared to the Morag Tong. You see, we have assassin´s guild in Morrowind too. But Morag Tong are professionals, and Suneus was their grandmaster some time ago.”
“W-what will you do with me?”
Venhen scratched his nose and thought about it. “Well,” he frowned, “I kill you of course.” Her eyes popped out and before she could do anything, Venhen slit her throat. He immediately rose from his chair and stepped back. There´s nothing worse that can ruin your clothes more than blood.
Suneus returned with the Crown, looking without expression at the dying body of Herminia Cinna.
“Well, a quite interesting evening I would say. I feel like eating some dinner, Suneus. But first I´ll take a bath. I fear my clothes are undeniable soaked up by the smell of blood.”
Thrattia reached the Waterfront shortly after dusk, still in the Imperial Armor. She thought about that and decided that this way she wouldn’t raise that much attention, and she was right about that. Normally anyone entering the Waterfront would have been questioned and warned not to go there after sunset.
The Waterfront was... a dangerous place. Sailors on shore leave got themselves drunk, looking for a fight. There were thugs waiting for careless citizens, stealing their money and either leaving them beaten on the ground or swimming the lake, dead. Drug dealers, common thieves. Even the Thieves Guild couldn´t prevent all this from happen. Yes, they were thieves too, but they were professionals. They didn´t mug just anyone walking down the street, they were aiming for the rich, to give to the poor.
The Thieves Guild actually controlled only the western part of the Waterfront, the rest belonged to various gangs and drug dealers. Thrattia decided it would be wiser to head straight to Black Rook tavern through the Thieves Guild´s area. If there were still the Watchmen and Lex, at least she wouldn´t get noticed.
She passed the lighthouse and walked down the marbled wharf, making a right alongside some warehouses. It was better to enter the slums from the west, that way she wouldn´t have to go between the shacks after dark. Not even the Imperial Watch dared to patrol the Waterfront after dark. She wondered if they were still searching for Armand there. I wouldn´t be surprised if they were. We´ll find few corpses of tin-cans in the alleys tomorrow morning.
She saw movement to her left, right in front of a door to one of one warehouses, but when she looked there again, nothing. My mind is playing tricks with me again. It happened to her from time to time. It was that paranoia, that fear of her past. She shook her head in denial. Stop worrying about past.
She entered the slums with its low and rundown shacks made of wood. So many people lived in the Waterfront, and those houses reflected that, being crammed into each other, leaving almost no room between them.
She noticed that there wasn´t a single Watchmen there and frowned. That was weird for sure, she couldn´t image Lex calling a retreat.
Thrattia finally got to Black Rook and opened the door. She was met by a furious Bataz, staring at her with hate. Thrattia spread her arms. “Have I done something?” she asked.
Bataz´s eyebrows went lower than Thrattia even thought possible and then shot upwards in surprise. “That you, little rat?” Orc asked with disbelief in her voice.
Thrattia got her head out of the helmet and smiled. “Yeah. Been busy, Bataz.” She looked around and saw Methredhel sitting at their usual table. “I´ll be right there, Methredhel. I just need to get out of this damn thing. Is Sharrum already back?”
Bataz shook her head. “Not yet. That big idiot got himself into trouble most probably.”
Thrattia put a hand on her shoulder and whispered: “He certainly did. But he´ll be back for dinner.” She smiled then and Bataz responded with a smile too.
The Imperial girl went into her room upstairs to change. I could keep that armor as trophy. Vermillia might like it. She felt heat in her crotch after thinking about Vermillia and shook her head. Work first, fun later. Damn Sharrum is now talking in my head. That Orc can really get under your skin.
It took her few minutes to get dressed. It was shame she had to leave her leather armor in the Arboretum, but it wasn´t something she was attached to. I´ll buy a new one. Better. Maybe Sharrum could finally make me one, he´s been promising that for some time. I think it´s time to remind him again.
She went downstairs, grabbed a tankard with beer being left all alone and forgotten on the bar and ran to Methredhel, laughing, as Bataz cursed and tried to hit Thrattia with the famous rag. She sat down and drank almost half of it, wiping the foam from her mouth.
Methredhel was watching her, waiting and Thrattia rolled her eyes. She put the coin on the table and then the paper. “Taxes and tax records, as you commissioned.” She pointed at the door leading out and grimaced. “Now, care to explain why there are no tin-cans outside anymore?”
“Well I found the spy. And I have the Bust.”
Thrattia´s eyes popped. “Really? How did you manage all that in one day?”
“I spoke with a whole lot of people here. I found out that Myvryna Arano is Lex´s spy.”
“Lex´s?” young Imperial asked, surprised. “But we were looking for a Dunmer spy...Oh, she is Dunmer. So she spied for both Lex and that gang? Damn it. And how did you find the Bust?”
Methredhel hesitated for a second, not sure where to begin. “Well, I didn’t actually find it. Someone brought it to me.”
Thrattia frowned. “Who?”
“An Imperial. But that´s the weird thing. I can´t remember his name and I would swear he told it to me. And I can´t even remember how he looked. I only remember sad blue eyes.”
“You´ve been drinking?”
“No!” replied Methredhel, pounding her fist into table. “I can´t explain it.” The Bosmer then relaxed again and leaned back on her chair. “The important thing is I knew the spy and I had the Bust. So I snuck into her house, put the Bust in her closet and gave Lex an anonymous tip. He arrested her and has withdrawn from the Waterfront.”
“Well, no shit,” murmured Thrattia. “So we wait for Sharrum now, right? I wonder what he dug out. Probably some shit.”
Methredhel looked at her with cold stare and Thrattia shrugged. After few seconds of silence, she rose. “You know what? I´ll go get some fresh air. It´s kinda sultry here.” Thrattia went through the back door. Damn Bosmer. She´s really pleasant companion.
She went to sit on the wharf overlooking the lake, which reflected both the stars and the moons. It was as if there were two skies at that moment. These were the moments when she felt at peace. She did a good thing today, she helped the poor and didn´t want anything in return. Sharrum will be so damn proud. Goody two shoes.
Then there was that feeling like if someone moved close to her and she turned around. But there was nothing. No one was near, only sounds belonging to insects and night life of Waterfront. But not anywhere close to her.
It´s nothing. Just relax.
Then she heard and felt a creak of wood and she immediately jumped to her feet, turning around with dagger ready. And yet there was no one.
Then the air in front of her misted up, becoming more like a smoke and from that smoke a figure appeared. A figure in black robes, a hood covering his upper face. But she knew who he was. She didn´t need to hear his voice to be certain, but when he spoke, there was no mistake.
“And so I found you, my child,” said the man with a sinister voice, as cold as the night itself.
Thrattia pointed her dagger at him. “Leave me be. I´m not coming back. I´m not her anymore.” Her hand was trembling so violently she struggled to keep the tip pointed at man´s throat.
“Sithis is not forgiving, but I am, my daughter. I came for you, you have to return to your family. We all miss you dearly,” the man whispered, not showing any fear of the dagger pointed at him.
“I don´t want to go back,” she sobbed, feeling a waterfall of tears suddenly flow over her cheeks. “There are people who love me. I love them.”
He slowly pushed aside the dagger, taking her by her hand. “They can´t love you as your true family does, my child. You are my blood, but your Brothers and Sisters are your true family. Come with me.”
She was crying by then, the dagger loudly ringing on the wharf as she dropped it, and she took a first step towards the man. It was so hard, she didn´t want to, but then she took a second step. And she realized that one part of her longed for this moment. That she wanted go back into past.
“Come child,” the man said. He then whirled.
Thrattia saw a large fist land on the man´s jaw and her eyes popped. The hooded figure dropped on the wharf, unconscious, his left leg hanging down, barely touching the water. She looked up to saw Sharrum with grim expression on his face. An expression that didn´t belong there. Not kind and loving, making stupid jokes.
She looked at the man lying on the wharf, her father, and then at Sharrum. “Kill him. Please. I don´t want to go back. You have to kill him.”
The huge Orc shook his head. “I can´t. You know that.”
“You and your stupid oath! Your stupid pacifism!” she yelled at him. She grabbed the dagger she dropped. “I´ll do it myself then.”
The dagger was prepared to strike, right into the black heart of that man, finally ending his life full of death and terror. Death and terror he caused. To her. Then a green hand grabbed her wrist, crushing it like a vice.
“You don´t want to do that, Thrattia.”
“That´s not my name,” she shouted into his face. He didn’t even flinch. “I´m Leotria Lachance.”
He leaned in closer and whispered: “No, you´re not. You´re Thrattia Leotcus, member of my family. Me and Bataz love you as if you were our own. You hear me, lass? We love you.”
“But if he lives, he´ll find me again,” she sobbed.
Sharrum let go of her wrist and crouched to lift the man. “Would you cast Sleep on him? The strongest you can muster?”
“I can´t, I have no juice left in me.”
Sharrum smiled and took something from his pocket, offering it to her. A blue vial. “I bought you one at the Gilded Carafe. It should be really something special.”
She couldn´t help but smile. An Orc supporting her use of magic. He was always so kind to her, thinking about her. She drank the potion, immediately feeling her magicka restoring at amazing speed. That must have been expensive. She reached into Aetherius and pulled as much energy as she could, releasing it one powerful spell. “What will you do?” she looked at Sharrum.
A naughty grin appeared on his face. “There´s a ship that leaves in few hours for Summerset Isles. I´ll dump him on it. Let those damned Elves deal with him.” He turned around and headed towards the docks, only to look over his shoulder. “Will you be alright?”
She nodded, wiping off her tears.
As he walked between the shacks of the Waterfront with man over his shoulder, Sharrum wished he hadn’t sworn that oath. He wanted to kill that bastard so badly! What kind of man could do this to his own daughter? What sick mind can turn her into a killer? The man deserved death and Sharrum wanted to do it. He really did. But he couldn´t. If there was ever a time I regretted that I swore I wouldn’t kill ever again...it´s this moment.
But what kind of person would he be after that? He was violent and full of rage when he was young, but now he was older, a different person. But if you kill once...the second time will be easier. And the time after that even easier. Until you won´t consider killing wrong.
Everyone is so obsessed with death these days. Death solves everything, death is all around us and we barely notice it. How can we be so ignorant? He frowned. He could go into the wilderness, slay dozens of bandits and what would it solve? They would be dead, their souls leaving this plane. They would be gone. Is that the solution? Remove everything that´s wrong? He shook his head. Killing is the easy way. Dying is easy. Living is hard.
He arrived at the docks and headed straight to the ship he was talking about. There were crates on the wharf waiting to be loaded. He looked around and saw no guard or sailors, only few beggars and questionable persons. None of them will mind. He opened one crate with his left hand - just ripped off its nailed-down lid like it was paper - and looked inside. Bags of salt. Ha, I guess this bastard will find himself very dry once he wakes up. He tossed him into the crate and put the lid back, pounding on it few times to make sure it would hold. Then he shrugged and walked off.
Time to tell them what I found.
Thrattia got up quite early, mostly because she couldn´t sleep. She did her best to not wake up Vermillia, because the poor girl was tired. Their lovemaking last night was...desperate. Yes, that´s the word. Thrattia desperately needed to think about something else, she needed to fill the emptiness her father brought with something else. And still it didn´t help, her sleep restless.
What Sharrum told her didn´t matter, because she still felt her father´s shadow staring at her, even when she knew he was on his way to Summerset Isles. But what if he wasn´t?
She couldn´t thank Sharrum enough, though she hated him for a second. Thrattia hated him because he couldn´t kill her father. Because he didn´t let her kill him. Who was he to make that choice for her? But then she realized he did the hardest thing. It was everything he tried to teach her. Restraint. Killing is easy, living is hard. That´s what he always said. But why does it have to be so hard? But she understood. She knew she couldn´t follow the same pacifism as him, but she could at least try not to kill anyone. It was the only way how to overcome her past.
“Lass?” sounded a deep Orcish voice, pulling her out of her thoughts. “You here with us?”
She blinked and looked at Sharrum and an Imperial man as they stood. A beggar, No-Coins Draninus, and they were near the Talos Plaza District. “Sorry, I wasn´t listening.”
The Orc grimaced. “We noticed that. Draninus said that Agarmir was in his house the whole night and left right in the morning. The house is clear.”
Thrattia tried to smile, but she found that it wasn´t that easy. Something in her couldn´t pretend she was cheery, or even confident. So she tried to hide that with simple nod, which earned her a frown on Sharrum´s face.
“Thanks, Draninus,” gro-Durol turned to the beggar and handed him small pouch. “Here´s something extra. Go buy yourself some food, maybe clothes.” Draninus’ face lit up with joy, but Sharrum raised his finger in a warning. “But if I find out you´ve spent all the money on booze, I´ll break every damn bottle in your possession.”
“Sure thing, Sharrum. I stopped drinking the day my wife left me for a cat,” beggar grinned and ran away.
Young girl raised her eyebrows on that. “His wife left him for a cat?”
Sharrum walked towards Agarmir´s house and she needed to make longer steps just to keep up with him. How can he be that energetic? His moves always seemed slow and lazy, but now it looks like he found his youth again. Orc shrugged. “She left him for a Khajiit. He says cat so that people pity him.”
He suddenly stopped near one house, no different from the others and she almost bumped to him. Sharrum turned around and looked at her. She didn´t like that inspecting gaze and her eyes were trying to avoid contact with his. “You´re up for it, lass? You need to be focused.”
She shot him an angry look. How dare you? Which of us two is the thief? She wanted to say that aloud, and almost did. She even opened her mouth and then stopped. He didn´t mean it in bad way, he never did. He was just asking if she was okay. “Yes,” Thrattia nodded. “I´m up for it. Will you watch my back?”
He smiled. “Always, lass.”
Always, lass.
He mulled over what he said. Among Orcs, it was expected that your kin always stood behind you, that they watched your back. Not so among humans in their big cities where betrayal and greed was common thing. Orcs didn´t love in the same way as other races, but they knew the concept of the word. Care so much for someone that you would be willing to give your life for that someone. Every single Orc loved every Orc from his tribe.
That was the way he loved Thrattia... she was his daughter, and race or blood didn´t matter. He was prepared to give his life for her. And he was thinking about taking life for her, but he didn´t. Does it mean I don´t love her as much as I think?
Thrattia went into the house just few minutes ago, with him as watch outside, in front of the door. He hoped everything would go well. They did it like this so many times it was pretty much a routine for them.
The door opened and Thrattia emerged, with a book and paper in her hands. “They are robbing the dead!” she spitted out. “I found shovels and other tools too. Plus this.” She gave him the book and he thumbed through it quickly. It was full of names, dates of death, and their burial locations. “It says who was recently buried. And then this paper. That’s today´s target.”
“In the light of day? Under the Watch´s nose?” Sharrum asked in surprise. He closed the book and grinned. “Then let´s get them.”
Venhen was having his breakfast late, as usual, only this time it was with his uncle. Fathys Ules was looking at him from the other side of table, frowning. He was doing that a lot recently. Venhen noticed his lips were moving and blinked.
“Did you even listen to me, boy?” asked Fathys and Venhen found out he wasn´t really listening.
He put piece of tomato inside his mouth, deep in thought while chewing. “No, not really,” he said after a while.
“I wonder why you´re even here,” growled Fathys, pointing at him with his fork. “You do nothing all day, except bet in the Arena.”
And that´s exactly what I want you to think. He grimaced, as if he was hurt by his uncle’s words. “That´s not true, uncle. Suneus, what are our plans for today?”
His servant stood by his side, pondering his Master’s question. “You mean besides going to the Arena?” Venhen shot him angry look, but Suneus didn´t mind it. “Well, Umbacano said that you could accompany him on an expedition to an Ayleid ruin. That he thanks you for obtaining the Crown.”
Fathys frowned. “What Crown?”
“Just some Ayleid artifact,” Vehnen answered, waving his hand dismissively. “I think that some fresh Cyrodiil air could do us some good. But we haven´t delivered the Crown yet. When does he want to leave?”
Suneus scratched his nose. “An hour ago.”
“What?” yelled Venhen. “Why didn´t you tell me?”
“You were very specific about not waking you up, even if the Daedra invaded Tamriel, my lord.”
Venhen rose quickly. “Pack our bags, servant. We´re leaving.”
“I already did,” the old Dunmer bowed.
“Then let´s be on our way,” commanded Venhen, nearly running from the dining room. “See you later, uncle!” When he was out of the house, he sighed.
“Thank you, my dear servant,” he said to Suneus when the servant caught up with him. “I thought I would never leave that house. Now tell me, do we have everything packed? Including the Crown?”
Suneus reached into his bag and pulled the Crown out and then put it back. Venhen was pleased. All they had to do was deliver the Crown and then follow Umbacano into some Ayleid ruin. Venhen was actually quite interested what all the fuss was about.
“And one more thing, my lord. Someone was asking questions about Thoronir. Some Orc then followed Agarmir to his house,” said Suneus.
The Young Dunmer thought about that for a second. “Well, Agarmir doesn´t know a thing so he can´t blab out anything. But it might be better to get rid of that Orc. You have a description and name? Blame him for the murder of the Cinna. But for now, let the adventure begin.”
They were standing in front of the Trentius Family Mausoleum, watching the Watchman pass. Once he was gone, Sharrum leaned towards Thrattia and whispered: “Ready?”
“Ready,” she nodded.
Sharrum opened the door and both of them walked in. It was mostly dark, save the dim orange glow of torchlight emanating from the end of the corridor. The Mausoleum wasn´t large, it seemed like they were only three coffins in a room ahead. Four columns of white marble supported the ceiling and as they approached, he noticed that the coffin was already opened. Suddenly Agarmir appeared from behind one of the columns, looking at them with a smile.
“I had a feeling you´d catch on sooner or later,” he said. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice you following me around, Orc?”
Thrattia angrily poked Sharrum’s ribs. He looked at her and shrugged. Another Nord in fur armor, with an wooden shield and mace, now blocked the exit and pointed at him with his chin. Thrattia looked behind them and frowned.
“That´s why I had this trap prepared for you,” continued Agarmir. “As you can see, the grave has already been dug, and this time not to take something away, but to add.” He pulled his short sword from its scabbard and smiled ominously. “I´m afraid all I can offer you is an unmarked grave.”
“I´ll take the Blondie,” said Thrattia. “He talks too much.” She charged Agarmir before Sharrum could say anything and then he had to dodge the steel mace swinging towards his head.
“Listen, Nord, I don´t want to hurt you,” he said, trying to talk some reason into this mess. The Nord ignored him and swung his mace again. Sharrum caught it right under its head and ripped it from Nord´s grasp, casting it aside. Catching a mace in full swing wasn´t small feat, but the Nord didn´t have enough time to react. He tried to bash Sharrum with his shield, but Orc didn´t even flinch when it struck his face.
“I really don´t want to hurt you,” Sharrum repeated. Nord swung his shield again, but Sharrum dodged, grabbing the shield by its edge to bring it down on his knee, shattering it. Of course, Nord´s arm followed the movement and it was crushed with the shield, making him scream in agony. Sharrum kneeled beside him and took his forearm into his hand. “I warned you. Now, don´t squirm. If I don´t set the bone, you won´t be able to move your fingers ever again.” He pulled and he heard the bone moved back to its place.
“You´re unbelievable,” murmured Thrattia and he glanced at her from behind, ignoring Nord´s whining. Agarmir was lying on the floor, blood on his head and Sharrum raised his eyebrows in a question. She rolled her eyes. “He´s alive. I just hit quite hard. Now stand aside.”
She pushed him aside - only because he let her, because he didn´t know what she wanted to do. She stomped on the Nord´s broken arm and he yelled in pain. “Who do you work for?” she shouted at him.
Sharrum grabbed her by arm and pulled her away from the man. “What are you doing?” he growled into her face.
“Some Ules!” shouted the Nord and both Thrattia and Sharrum looked at him. “I heard something about some farm outside the Imperial City from that Dunmer who contacted us. Then something about Camonna Tong. Now, please, don´t torture me anymore!”
Thrattia smiled at Sharrum. “See? He thinks you were torturing him.”
“I was trying to fix his forearm. I´m worried you´ve unfixed it. But Ules?” he asked. “Fathys Ules? He´s a member of the Guild and-”
“And he´s Dunmer,” finished Thrattia. “Let´s go see him. We´ll inform the Watch about these two and get the info about the farm to Methredhel or Armand.”
Sharrum nodded. “Alright. Let´s go talk to Fathys. But we´ll go easy on him.”
Thrattia smiled and swung her new short sword she took from Agarmir. “Of course we´ll go easy on him.”
Thrattia Leotcus, a small Imperial girl, shoved Fathys Ules against a wall and put a blade under his chin. “Speak, Ules!” she growled. “Why are you selling that shit in the Waterfront? Why are you buying stores in the Market District? We have your name! You work for House Hlaalu!”
Fathys rolled his eyes in surprise. “What? I´m not doing any of this.”
“So you´re trying to tell us it´s some other Ules?” asked Thrattia mockingly. She was surprised when Fathys tried to nod, but blade on his neck preventing him from doing that.
“Yes, there´s another Ules.” He gulped.
“What?” frowned Sharrum, standing behind Thrattia, his brow furrowed in disapproval.
“My nephew. He was sent here from Morrowind. His name is Venhen Ules. He was sent here along with his servant as punishment because they did some bad things with his Cammona Tong friends. I thought he was doing nothing all day. He and that possibly oldest Dunmer alive servant of his would go to the Arena every day.”
Sharrum put hand on her forearm. “Lower the blade, Thrattia. He´s telling the truth.”
“And how do you know that? He could be lying,” she snapped at him.
“Because I know him. And I´ve met that Venhen and his servant when I went to Ogier´s store. They were outside, but I thought...well, I didn´t think they were the ones I´m was looking for.” He looked at Fathys. “Where is he now?”
“They left with Umbacano on some expedition to an Ayleid ruin. But I don´t know which one, I swear,” blabbed out Fathys quickly.
“Umbacano?” Thrattia asked and frowned. She and Sharrum looked at each other.
“Claude Maric!” they said at the same time.
They were riding horses for most of the day, stopping at night to camp, rest and then continued again with the coming of the morning. They were following the Yellow Road towards the Leyawiin, but Umbacano said they wouldn’t go that far.
Venhen looked over the Niben and saw the city of Bravil in the distance, only a big brown smudge amongst so much green. Like a shit in the grass, he thought. He looked at Umbacano. “How much farther, my friend?”
The Altmer grimaced. “This is probably the hundredth time you have asked me. It´s not far. We have to cross that bridge that´s over there and we´re there.”
Venhen looked ahead and saw the bridge. “That means that we are near the Imperial Bridge Inn, right? Couldn´t we stop there? I´m quite hungry and some piece of properly cooked meat would certainly help me feel better.” He glanced back. “Not that I´m saying your venison done over the campfire was bad, Suneus.”
The Old servant sat in the saddle with the grace of a sack full of potatoes and at Venhen´s remark, he grimaced. “You´re saying just that, my lord.”
“Alright, I´m just saying that,” admitted the young Dunmer. “So, Umbacano, will we stop there?”
“No,” the Altmer responded, clearly annoyed. Venhen recognized that and decided it would be better to keep silent for the rest of the journey. Umbacano was no longer that charming collector of Ayleid artifacts. He was obsessed with that Nenalata ruin and its Crown.
But Umbacano was right. They were close. The bridge was just ahead of them and on that bridge, Venhen saw an Ayleid ruin on the shore of Niben. There wasn´t much left to it, so Vehnen wondered what Umbacano hoped to find?
They tied their horses to something that looked like a stone door. Umbacano stood in front of it, staring at it, his anxiousness clearly visible. “Even in its ruined state, it is magnificent, isn´t it? In the height of its power, Nenalata must have been glorious indeed. I don´t know what we´ll encounter inside,” he said, looking at Venhen and his companions. “I´m glad you brought your cousins with us. But are you sure they´ll able to deal with anything that awaits us inside?”
Venhen looked at the four Dunmer accompanying them and smiled. Cousins? If you only knew, dear Umbcano. They are among the best of Cammona Tong. “Don´t worry. They are more than capable.”
“Then let´s go,” murmured the Altmer and he pushed the stone door open.
“After you,” Venhen smiled.
Fathys said that Venhen Ules had few hours head start, so they needed to catch up with him. Thrattia wanted to buy horses and ride them to death but that wasn´t something Sharrum was comfortable with. He swore he wouldn’t kill again, and that counted for every living creature. I even stopped eating meat because of that, damn it. Not that they had enough gold to buy horses in the first place.
Instead, they booked passage on a ship sailing south. They lost several hours looking for one which had a captain who was willing to take them near Nenalata, costing them some extra gold. Nothing is free in this world.
So it was some time after dusk before they even left the Imperial City, because the ship had to be loaded first. And this was the ship that could leave the quickest. Even when Sharrum helped with carrying crates with goods, they were still behind schedule.
For the rest of night they slept, waking up in the morning with Bravil to the distance. One hour later, the ship lowered its sails as close to the shore as was possible, with the captain saying that this was their stop, making a gesture towards the water with a grin. They had to swim.
After several minutes, they finally got to shore, only to lay there, exhausted. “Whose idea was this again?” asked Sharrum.
“Yours, you idiot,” answered Thrattia between pants.
“Well, I have to admit it was really stupid idea,” Sharrum grinned and looked at the young Imperial lying next to him. “But the water here isn´t as cold as the Rumare, eh?”
“Fuck you!” she growled, but when he laughed, Sharrum saw the sides of her mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. It was good that she felt alive again. She didn´t sleep much during the sail, but in the morning, when the first sunlight appeared and the sky in the east gained that beautiful orange color, he saw how she was raised again from that dark place. And he was proud of her. She is your daughter, you old fart, and like a true Orc, she gets back on her feet again, stronger than before. She can´t be defeated. He couldn´t help but to smile. Only delayed.
“So how about we finish what we started?” he rose, offering her his hand. “I´m growing tired of this business with these damn Dunmer. I want to go back to politely throwing drunks out of the Black Rook.”
Thrattia smiled and accepted his hand, letting it help her to her feet as she said with a sarcastic smile: “Politely? Is that what you call it? You´re a damn charity, Sharrum. You throw them out, you apologize and then you ask if they´re alright. You´re terrible bouncer.”
“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “But I´m the most favorite bouncer in the Imperial City.” That made her laugh out loud and he was glad for that. He missed her laugh, even if it was just for one day. The world suddenly seemed brighter.
“Then let´s go,” Thrattia said when she stopped laughing. He nodded and together they went along the shore towards the Ayleid ruin.
Once they arrived, they noticed horses standing in front of the entrance. “Seven,” counted Sharrum. “That means they outnumber us.”
“I wouldn´t worry about that much,” she replied and started untying the horses. He looked at her puzzled and she noticed it. “In case they get out. If they do, they´ll have to run on their own, which means at least you could catch them.”
“I´m flattered, but I think I got fat, so I´m not sure if I can run for as long as could when I was younger.”
“You´re disgrace to your race, Sharrum,” she smiled. “Then let´s make sure they don´t get out. Could you please scare those horses a little?”
He grimaced. “I don´t know if I can be scary anymore. It´s been some time.”
“Just try.”
Alright. I´ll give it a try. He took a deep breath and then he let it out in the form of roar. A deep, primal roar coming from the insides, filled with his deepest instincts, echoed along the shore and through the forest, scaring birds and the horses too, of course. They were running like if they had Oblivion right behind their arses. Well, that wasn´t bad.
He looked at Thrattia and noticed how pale she was. “I think I´ve pissed myself,” she said solemnly.
“You´ll change later,” he replied stoically. He went through the door waiting for a second for his eyes adjusted to the darkness, only not to find absolute darkness. There were chandeliers with blue crystals shinning like distant stars and the walls were covered with white crystals that emanated light too.
Thrattia was right behind him and they followed the narrow corridor until they reached a set of stairs that led to large hall with massive columns supporting the ceiling. Everything was made of a white marble, just like the Imperial City, yet the architecture was different. More refined, with blue mosaics.
They noticed several bodies on the floor and slowly went to them. Skeletons, half decayed corpses and one Dunmer in brown and grey leather. Sharrum frowned. “I fucking hate undead,” he said and spitted.
“Seems like they evened the odds,” Thrattia observed. “You can kill undead, can’t you? That isn’t against your oath, right?”
He kneeled and grabbed a silver mace that was lying near the Dunmer. “They´re already dead, that means I can´t kill them. But I can destroy them,” he growled. “Does that answer your question?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much. Come one, they can´t be far. This fight was quite recent, it still stinks here of fire. They have mage with them.”
“Marvelous.”
From where did those corpses come from? Wondered Venhen, looking at the skeletons and zombies at his feet. They were cornered by almost a dozen of them, and another man was down. They swooped over him, forcing him to the ground while they proceeded to nearly tear him apart. That was the second death. His two other men were bruised, but otherwise fine. Suneus was without a scratch, just as himself and Umbacano.
The damn Altmer was tossing fire at all sides, nearly burning them all alive once. But they still lived, which couldn’t be said about those undead. Perhaps they are old Ayleids, killed and revived by their wild magic?
“We´re close,” assured Umbacano. “It must be just around the corner.”
That´s what you said the last time, you pompous golden shit.
Yet this time, he was actually right. There was a set of sealed doors with carving of a tree on them, emanating blue light. To be honest, Venhen hated this place. He hated Ayleid ruins. Dwemer ruins were far more interesting and those damn automatons were much better than these half-rotten corpses. Automatons didn´t stink.
“Yes!” shouted Umbacano. “This is it! Just as Sorcaling described it. Follow me!” He stopped in front of the door and spread out his arms. “Av Auri-El ye Tamri-El dellevoy an Arpen Aran tarnabye.”
He speaks Ayleid? Now I´m impressed. The doors opened and Umbacano went inside. There were stairs right in front of them and Umbacano didn´t waste time, scaling them immediately, often skipping two or three steps at a time. Venhen and the others were following him more carefully and when they ascended the stairs, there was a throne in front of them, with four...pedestals which had dark stones floating above them.
“Yes! Yes!” murmured Umbacano. “Here it is… the throne of the last king of the Ayleids. And so it falls to me to bring about the restoration of our ancient glory… Av Sunna Tam Riel arctavoy an Arpen Aran malaburo!”
“Our ancient glory?” asked a surprised Venhen. “What?”
“You are about to witness the glorious rebirth of Ayleid civilization!” Umbacano put the Crown on his head and sat on the throne. “Now I´m the Last King of Aylei- wait! What´s wrong?” The stones on pedestal suddenly started to glow red, air crackled with magicka and then all four stones unleashed their energy onto Umbacano. There was sudden light and Venhen would have sworn that he saw Umbacano´s skeleton while the magic electricity coursed through his body. A few seconds later, his dead body, burned beyond recognition, dropped on the floor.
Venhen looked at Suneus. “Well, that went well.” He then turned to Umbacano´s corpse with grin and said: “I guess you had the wrong crown, you n´wah.” Suneus reached into his bag and pulled out another Crown, this time the right one. It seems Cinna was right. The city didn´t like a king of another city sitting on its throne.
At that moment, hidden door all around the room opened, revealing several undead behind them. They spotted the intruders and began walking towards them.
“Well, let´s see if this works,” Venhen smiled and raised the Crown of Nenalata above his head.
They followed the trail of undead corpses, burned, crushed and hacked to pieces and then they found the corpse of another Dunmer. This one died a horrible death, under the teeth and hands of undead zombies. Sharrum took his steel longsword, now equipping weapons in both hands.
“You´re ambidextrous?” Thrattia asked and he only shrugged. “You´ll have to teach me that one day.”
He nodded towards the door and she understood. They sneaked towards it and then into a large hall, with stairs in front of them. They crept upwards and when they reached the top, they saw the Dunmer noble standing above a burned corpse, holding a Crown above his head. The Old Dunmer with the cane and two others in leather armor spotted them, but they didn´t know who to focus on, because from both sides, at least dozen undead were walking towards them.
The Dunmer noble then spotted them and flashed a charming smile. Sharrum disliked that Dark Elf from that moment. “Just one second,” said the noble as he placed the crown upon his head, sitting on the throne right after. The undead stopped, and then changed direction, heading towards the duo of thieves.
“You must be that Orc that was sniffing around Thoronir,” said the Dunmer, his voice now resonating in the hall as if multiple people were speaking at once. “So Agarmir knew something after all, how else would you have found me? I´m worried your efforts are in vain. Because you will die here.”
Black stones mounted on pedestals around the throne began to glow and then waves of energy shot in their way. Sharrum grabbed Thrattia by the collar and pulled her into his embrace, throwing himself down the stairs. He tried to protect her from the fall and it resulted in him being quite bruised.
He rose up and she shouted at him: “Why did you do that, you fool?”
“We´re outnumbered,” he said, his whole body sore, and pointed up the stairs, where undead were now coming down towards them, with those three Dunmer close behind.
She looked at him. “You take the undead and the Dunmer, I´ll take that son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he murmured. She stood and ran up the stairs, avoiding the undead. The two Dunmer in leather tried to stop her, but she sailed between them as if they were unmoving statues and then she disappeared from his sight. Shit.
He leapt to his feet and weighed his weapons. He was glad for the silver mace that meant a quick end for those undead. Simple steel wasn´t that effective, but cutting of their head usually sufficed. And as they were walking down, he charged up.
They were just mindless corpses, which meant they didn´t know how to use the advantage of higher ground. He cut off a leg of one zombie, which made it stumble forward, falling down the stairs. Then came his mace, crushing the leg of another one, which followed the first one down the stairs. One of them got too close, it´s hand almost reaching his face and he swung his sword close to his body, cutting off the arm and mashing it´s head with the mace. Corpse fell directly under his feet, so he moved to the left, perfectly controlling his balance, to avoid the bodies rolling down.
They were getting close, overwhelming him with their numbers so he roared like a true Orc and charged them. Using his elbows and knees to keep them off, Sharrum got in between them, swinging his weapons to all sides. He passed through them like hot knife through butter, cutting off their limbs, crushing their heads and torsos, arriving at the other side of the crowd only with few scratches and bruises. He turned to see a pair of boots aimed at his chest.
One of the Dunmer must have charged him, jumping into air to make a scissor kick. He saw it before already, it was used to topple larger and heavier opponents, having enough momentum to send them on the ground. But he saw that move more than once.
Just before those feet could hit his chest, Sharrum dropped his weapons and grabbed those feet. With all his strength he turned around, using the Dunmer as living club, sweeping those undead off the stairs. When he finished the turn, he let go of the feet, throwing the Dunmer against the wall next to the door where they came. He heard bones crack but the Dark Elf screamed in pain. That was instinct. He´s lucky he´s alive. I´m lucky he´s alive. You can´t let those instincts take over, Sharrum. Be more careful.
Another zombie tried to reach him with its hands, but he carelessly grabbed it by the forearm and pulled it down the stairs. The second Dunmer then showed up, swinging his sword and Sharrum blocked the blow with his mace, taking a step forward - up the stairs - and punched his face with his left fist. The blow broke the Dunmer´s nose and Sharrum then hit him in the temple with the handle of the mace, sending him unconscious to the stairs.
He reached the top to see Thrattia lying on her back, with her sword raised against the old Dunmer with the cane. Ules was still sitting on the throne, amused.
“Well done, Suneus,” Dunmer´s voice echoed through the air. “This one clearly isn´t match for you, but what Dark Brotherhood assassin is? Oh, yes, I noticed the style, though it´s kind of sloppy.” He noticed Sharrum reaching the top and inclined his head to the side. “But you impress me, Orc. I´ve never seen one big as you, to be honest, and trust me when I say, I´ve seen lot of your kind. You would be a great bodyguard. Or slave. But you will have to go through my servant first.”
The Old servant then disarmed Thrattia with one fluid movement, sending her sword flying through the air and then hit her head with his cane. Sharrum was too far away to stop it, but once he saw that, he charged.
He swung his mace, but the old servant ducked under with surprising speed, and Sharrum noticed a thin blade in his hand, aimed at his knee. He swiftly shifted his balance, pulling the right leg back, and the left to the front, attacking the Elf’s shoulder with his mace. The servant took a step back, dodging the blow, but didn´t immediately attack.
“Well done,” applauded the noble. “You´re fast for an Orc. This is certainly interesting.”
Sharrum frowned, his eyes not leaving the old Dunmer. “You´re talking too much,” he growled and hurled the mace at the noble. Energy blasted from the stones, hitting the mace, which sent it flying through the air to the ceiling. But it was much need distraction, because the old Dunmer´s attention followed the mace flying at his master for few seconds. That was all Sharrum needed.
He moved fast, his fist striking like a viper. Yet the servant reacted fast too, his fist only scratching his chin, yet even that snapped his head to the side, throwing him off balance. Sharrum continued with another punch with his left hand, yet the Dunmer recovered quickly, ducked and the Orc felt pain in his forearm, a thin blade cutting through muscles like if they were made of paper, scratching against his bone. Then the cane hit him under his knee and he felt his leg giving up, falling on one knee. Exposed.
He saw the thin blade heading for his eye and he had very little time to do anything. So he raised his wounded arm, covering his face with an open hand. The blade went through his palm and he pushed against it, stopping at the handle, the blade only few inches from his eye. His mind was flooded by agony, his nerves crying in pain. And that´s when it awoke in him again. The red mist. The rage.
His right fist shot up, hitting surprised Dunmer on his chin, lifting him for the ground. He fell on his back, but immediately rolled back to put distance between him and his foe. But Sharrum didn´t pursue. He got on his feet again and pulled the blade out of his hand, the red mist lessening the pain and he threw it down the stairs.
The servant had lost his confidence, Sharrum saw it in his posture that he wasn´t sure if he wanted to fight an angry Orc with only a cane. So Sharrum didn´t give him time to think and charged. The Old Elf stepped aside, swinging his cane at Sharrum´s ear, but he underestimated the Orc´s speed. The angry Orc caught the cane, and before the servant could let it go, Sharrum swung with his wounded arm. He could feel it, feel that he couldn´t clench his hand into a fist, so he used his forearm as club of meat and bone. His wrist struck the side of the Dunmer’s head, dazing him, but then the Orc grasped his shirt, pulling him closer and head-butted him. His bone protrusions made a bloody paste of the servant´s face. He dropped the Elf to the floor, leaving him to clutch the remains of his face.
“That´s enough!” shouted the Noble, rising from his throne and the dark stones lit again, releasing all their energy upon Sharrum. And he couldn´t dodge it.
Thrattia opened her eyes only to see a mist in front of them. She frantically blinked to get rid of it and it worked, but too slowly. Her head hurt, her leg hurt and she was trying to remember why. That old bastard. He cut me and then hit me in the head with his cane. Where is he?
Her eyes were trying to search the room through the mist, barely recognizing shapes, but after few seconds, her sight became much clearer. She saw Sharrum head-butting the Dunmer and then dropping him on the floor, turning his attention towards the throne.
“That´s enough!” she heard hundreds of voice say and then she felt an immense power gathering. And then release, heading towards Sharrum. Thrattia didn´t know how she did it, but she got to her feet and ran to him. To her father. And she stood in front of him.
The magicka struck her with its full force. She felt it crackle in her, surround her whole body, trying to rip her apart. But she didn´t feel any pain, only the immense energy. She realized she had closed her eyes and so she opened them again. And what she saw was beautiful.
The whole room was filled with currents of magicka, flowing like rivers, white and blue, passing through the walls, the floor, the ceiling. And she knew she could reach them. She never felt such power in her life.
“What?” gasped the noble in surprise.
She only smiled. And then reached for one of the currents.
A white flame enclosed the throne, turning the marble into nothing under it, but the Dunmer was unharmed, protected by the magic barrier coming from the stones. “Those stones!” she shouted at Sharrum.
Another stream of magickal energy hit her, and she absorbed it again. The Dunmer then understood what she was. She felt his magicks ripping a piece of the wall and throwing it at her. She pulled more power from the currents and extended her mental hand, grabbing the stone and smashed it against Dunmer´s ward. Then she heard shattering and saw Sharrum standing with his sword near one of the pedestals, black shards at his feet.
The Dunmer noticed too, that the energy of the stones were now focused on Sharrum, which forced them to create a ward to protect him. He managed to destroy another stone and she felt how the pressure of energy weakened in that moment. It was hard to keep the ward around Sharrum, but she managed to send another blast of white fire towards the Dunmer, this time an ongoing stream of it. She felt how the energy was burning out of her quickly, but she didn´t stop. The floor and wall near the Dunmer cracked, putting more pressure on him and he screamed in rage. Sharrum destroyed the third stone.
“Quickly!” she screamed at him. And he heard her. The Orc threw his sword, the blade spinning in the air, striking the last stone directly.
Her magicks were depleted and Elf´s barrier disappeared. An unknown force threw him up against the wall and then he hit the ground.
Both Thrattia and Sharrum, bruised and wounded, walked to him.
He turned on his back and removed the elven crown from his head. “Well, that was interesting,” he laughed. “So what now, thieves? You´ll hand me to the Watch to rot in Imperial Prison? You and your damn honor!” he spitted.
Thrattia grabbed the Crown, looked at Sharrum and said: “There´s no honor among thieves.”
The Orc then stomped on the Dunmer´s knee, completely shattering it and Thrattia used the helm to crush his right arm. Dunmer screamed in pain, but they ignored him and walked towards the exit. There were a few zombies at the bottom of the stair still moving and Thrattia raised her eyebrows. “Your work? I´m impressed. You haven´t killed anyone?”
The Orc stomped on a zombie´s head, breaking it open like a watermelon under his weight and Thrattia used the Crown to smash the skull of another one. “Nah, no one killed,” he murmured.
She admired his work. Those Dunmer probably won´t be able to walk again. “And here I thought you were a pure pacifist.”
He snorted. “I swore I wouldn’t kill again. There was nothing about me breaking bones. That was my good will, so far.” He then looked at her. “And what you said earlier. About honor-”
She hobbled towards the door and smiled over her shoulder. “I lied.”
Part 1
Comments
Oh yeah, I remember reading that about Scuttles. Very useful thing
Yea, the disintegrate spell was cool. Very useful for a thief/assassin. Scuttles claws are ench... more
This was great! I loved all the characters and their stories all came together perfectly. Venhen definitely caught me off guard. And yay detect life!... more
@Lyall Thanks for spotting those. Those spaces in the middle of a sentence were made by copying the text here, something m... more