The bandit chief swung his weapon first, aiming for Erika's head. The way he saw it, since she was a woman, she'd be the weakest of the two intruders. But Erika, swift as the wind, quickly dodged the blow and landed one of her own, hitting the back of the bandit's head with the bottom of her sword. Another bandit attempted to catch Erika off-guard, but soon found herself falling to one of the Archer's arrows, which found its mark right between her eyes. The third member of the clan, a mighty swordsman, took his opportunity to catch the Archer off-guard, and swung his blade at the elf's head. The Archer ducked and retaliated by landing a harsh kick to the bandit's knees, breaking them before he drew an arrow and shoved it into the bandit's throat. After dispatching his adversary, the Archer ripped his arrow from the body and shot it into the back of the bandit chief, who was briefly stunned by the surge of pain. But the arrow had not landed in a vital spot -- it was merely a distraction to draw his attention away from Erika, who was having enough trouble fighting two bandits at once to worry about one more. The chief charged toward the Archer, who nimbly climbed over his body and delivered a grueling blow to the chief's face. The chief responded with two blows from his fists, sending the Archer to the ground. The chief pinned the Archer to the ground with his boot and gave him a triumphant look.
"You've been killing my men, hunter." He said mightily, "I've been waiting a long time for this day."
"Only the most foolish prey... looks eagerly toward the day of its death!" The Archer growled in response.
Before the chief could finish him off, the Archer claimed a stray dagger and plunged it into the chief's leg, causing him to collapse and set the Archer free. The chief struggled to return to his feet, but it was far too late -- in an instant, like a jungle cat pouncing upon its quarry, the Archer sped forward and stuck the chief in the heart. Now only one bandit remained, who decided to run and live to fight another day... but the Archer wouldn't have it. He picked up a battle axe from the chief's belt and threw it in the bandit's direction, and the sound of the blade slicing deeply into the bandit's skull confirmed that the last survivor of the clan was finished.
Erika and the Archer stood in silence, looking at each other. They had met as adversaries, yet wound up helping one another in battle. Curiosity fell upon the two of them, and their initial hostility became a thing of the past. Finally the Archer spoke.
"Your blade found its mark, and you have earned my respect. Now I believe we made a deal before battle was joined..."
"Yes," Erika nodded, "Yes we did... who are you?" She asked peacefully, stepping closer.
The Archer drew back his hood, revealing dirty, dark-brown hair that seemed to hang loosely upon his head. Next he pulled the mask from his face, revealing a Bosmer in his prime -- no doubt 200-300 years old at the most -- with dark gold-brown eyes and a tan skin color. His face was painted in a tribal fashion, and his chin showed signs of a growing beard.
"What's your name...?" Erika asked. "Mine is Erika Northwing."
"... Marudil..." He replied, "... My name... is Marudil."
Marudil sat by the bandits' campfire and refueled the wood, inviting Erika to take a seat and listen to his story. "So, uhm..." Erika said, "Why are you after the Thalmor? You said they did something... 'she' did something. Who's 'she'?"
"You will know in time." Marudil replied, "My story begins many long years ago... I cannot recall exactly how long it has been. But I do remember that it was at a time of great conflict between the Bosmer and the Altmer. They sought to unite our people in their new "Aldmeri Dominion", and while many of my kind agreed to live as a part of their luxurious culture, many Bosmer refused their offer -- including, but by no means limited to, my family and the clan we lived in. We felt that the Dominion was unappealing, and merely served as an excuse for the Altmer to feed their bloated sense of self-importance. The Altmer of the Dominion -- now calling themselves 'Thalmor' -- did not take kindly to our rejection of their pompous way of life, and decided they would take our allegiance by force... or kill us for our heresy against 'the future'. Suppose they couldn't bear the thought of outsiders living in the same world they did." A light smirk spread across Marudil's face before he resumed his tale. "Over time my clansmen decided to make me their leader, as they had come to admire not only my hunting abilities, but my sense of direction and my strength of will. I was capable of taking us places where the Thalmor would never think to look, all while keeping them at bay with my deadly arrows. They used to say that my arrows never missed their mark... and this may yet have been true, as we pushed back many Thalmor squads who sought to break us into submission. We lost many good men in those days, but we never gave up hope. Not so long as the forest was our home, and Y'ffre's wisdom guided us."
"Well... that can't be all, can it?" Erika asked, "Surely a petty political squabble wouldn't cause an elf to kill and skin his opponents?"
"Wise woman. No, Erika, my longing for retribution stems from something far deeper than politics. It had been many months since my people and I had turned our backs on the Thalmor. We had set up camp at the easternmost end of Valenwood, as far from the Summerset Isles as we could go. We thought we could live in peace at last... but once again, the Thalmor caught up with us. This time it was a larger squadron, led by one of the more prominent members of the Dominion. She now resides here, in Skyrim... her name is Elenwen."
Erika's eyes widened.
"Yes, Erika, the ambassador of the Dominion's Skyrim embassy has crossed my path in the past. It is her that I have to thank for turning me into what I have become. For you see, on that day when our forces met in battle, it was her blade that took from me one of my most cherished friends: my sister. I can remember the moment vividly, as if I had just witnessed it today... fortunately Elenwen and her men were forced to retreat, and the day was ours... but at a cost. I searched madly for my sister's body, when I was surprised to hear the sound of her voice calling my name in a frail tone -- she had not died just yet! But the wound had found its mark all the same, and her life was forfeit nonetheless. With pleading eyes she begged for me to slay her, to put an end to her misery. And so.... and so I did."
Marudil sat silently for a moment before continuing. "Afterwards we proceeded with our Bosmer custom of -- oh, pardon me. What do you know about our culture?"
"I know about what you do with dead bodies, if that's what you're asking."
"That is what we did with the bodies of the Thalmor agents that fell. As for our fallen men, they were rightly buried beneath the largest tree in the province... all but one."
Erika gasped quietly. "Your... your sister?"
Marudil gave her a serious look. "My people had seen me drive the dagger through her heart. In their eyes, Elenwen had merely wounded her... it was I who took her life, and thusly I was instructed to... feed on her body, as part of our agreement with Y'ffre. I was sent into a mad rage, saying that she deserved to be buried along with our other fallen kinsmen. But they insisted, and even went so far as to warn me that if I refused, and so much as buried my sister... I would be branded a heretic and a blasphemer, and would consequently be forever banished from Valenwood so as to appease Y'ffre."
"... You didn't eat her."
"I did not. Three days passed, and on the morning of the fourth day my kinsmen awoke to find a burning funeral pyre just outside of their settlement.... a funeral pyre built of wood. Laying across the pyre was the body of my sister, wrapped in tree leaves. They knew I had made my choice that day."
"So that's why you built your arrows out of wood, not bone..." Erika pieced the puzzle together, "Because you rejected the pact your people made with Y'ffre."
"Y'ffre does not exist. Or if he does, then I refuse to serve a divine spirit without so much as a sense of what is fair and what is cruel. My sister deserved a proper funeral... not to be turned into food like an animal. ... I have prowled Tamriel as a vagabond ever since. My travels have taken me to Elsweyr, to Cyrodiil... and now to Skyrim, where I am to meet the one who took my sister from me." Marudil stood. "Or at least, that's what I had intended. But we made a deal, and I am nothing if not true to my word." Marudil handed Erika some leather strips. "You may bind my hands and take me to Whiterun as your prisoner. I would rather fall into the custody of Jarl Balgruuf than into the hands of the Thalmor."
Erika looked at the leather strips, and began to think... then gently pushed them away. "You've committed no crimes against Skyrim, Marudil. The Thalmor are the ones who started the battle... it is they who must answer for what they've done."
Marudil was taken aback. "Are... are you saying...?"
Erika stood up. "I'm saying that you're innocent, Marudil. And I won't stand between you and your quest to avenge your people."
Marudil was visibly shocked, and knelt before Erika's feet. "I am in your debt, Erika Northwing... if there is anything I can do for you, you have only to ask. ... But I must know..." He rose back up. "What will you tell Balgruuf?"
"He hates the Thalmor plenty enough. We'll tell him your story, then reassure the people that the Archer of Whiterun was eaten by a sabercat. After that... I could really use someone like you for whatever adventures come my way. Deal?"
Marudil gave a rare smile. "Deal."
****
The sun set over the walls of Whiterun, and Nazeem returned to his home from Chillfurrow farm. The house was barley illuminated by the candles hanging on the walls, and the general mood was very quiet and resigned. Nazeem served himself a pint of mead in the main chamber, when he heard the sound of his wife Ahlam opening the door to the house.
"Good to see you again, darling." He said.
"Oh, is it?" Ahlam replied sarcastically, "I see you're finally deciding to sleep here for a change. What's the matter, did they finally kick you out of the Huntsman?"
"Very funny. I simply thought I'd help myself to a pint before turning in... they've run out at the Drunken Huntsman."
"I thought so. Couldn't be bothered to get a drink at the Bannered Mare?"
"This is my mead, purchased with my money. I'll enjoy it if I wish to."
"You're not scared that the Archer will shoot an arrow into your backside, are you?"
"How impudent of you.."
"Knew it. Well you won't have to be scared anymore; Erika Northwing said he got killed by a sabercat."
"You don't really believe that rubbish, do you my dear?"
"Why do you say that?"
"If you'll recall, the Northwings have an unfortunate history here in Whiterun. Her sister killed Belethor's predecessor, remember?"
"Nazeem! I never liked Rikka myself, but to accuse her of murder?"
"It's plainly obvious what she did, Ahlam. And her sister covered up for her... maybe the two were in it together?"
"Unbelievable... how could you?" Ahlam stormed out of the house. She knew that her husband had a penchant for saying some disagreeable things, but this? Accusing two sisters of conspiracy and murder? Disgusting!
Ahlam decided to spend some of her spare coin on drinks at the Mare, so as to help her get over her husband's attitude. Two hours passed, and she decided that it had been long enough and Nazeem must have gone to the Huntsman some time ago. She opened the door to her house and peeked inside, only to find something odd; the candles had gone out, leaving the house in total darkness. Fetching her lantern, Ahlam struck a match and lit the room -- and in that instant she was greeted by a horrible sight: Nazeem's body had been run through by a large Akaviri katana, which was stuck down his throat. The blade cut through Nazeem's spine as well as the bench he had been sitting in, suspending his body upright. Blood poured out his mouth, staining the fine suit that he wore. Ahlam's screams alerted the city guard, who rushed over to investigate. All the while, a shadowy figure watched the scene from afar, perched upon the house of Clan Grey-Mane. It had heard what Nazeem had spoke of. It had heard of the case of the Archer. It had heard of the one who restored order to the city.
"Sister........."
~Next: Rikka Northwing and the Sword Dancer~
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