Previously on Strike of the Dead Dragon:

With Alduin and Miraak defeated, Aislinn the Dragonborn had lost purpose. She did not remember her past and had no future. But that was soon to change. Before she knew it, she found herself on the run from the Thalmor, discovering that Alduin's soul had been preserved by them and provided with temporary bodies. On her journey to discover a way to defeat him, she was witness to the death of her dragon friend, Paarthurnax, whose soul she now carries with her. He was slain by a man called Anariath Torelloy, an elven man with the power of the Voice whose origins were unknown. Aislinn was told by Odahviing to find three ancient dragons, imprisoned by Alduin. Upon meeting them, they gave her a shout to summon an Elder Scroll which would show her the way to an ancient ruin where she could find the key to conquering the World-Eater. On the back of the trusty Odahviing, she immediately set for Cyrodiil, looking to find a Moth Priest who could read the Elder Scroll for her. When she arrived in Bruma, she met Ardur and Tye, two partisans fighting to free the Empire. Shortly after, a Thalmor unit besieged the city and she had to face a dragon. When its soul entered her body, she became possessed by Mehrunes Dagon. To protect herself, she requested an amulet of Talos from the Countess of Bruma. Now she must travel with Tye and Ardur to the Imperial City to fulfil her destiny – although they still don't know who she is.

Meanwhile, her beloved companion Brynjolf escorts Aislinn's adoptive daughter, Lucia, to the College of Winterhold. Lucia has been given the power of the Dragonborn from the spirit of Martin Septim and now needs to study magic to be able to fend for herself. On their way, they run into a Thalmor Squire, Reinya Talwen, who is secretly plotting against her own organization. She informs them that Andariath Torelloy is a four thousand year old Aldmer who has lived feeding on the lives of others. He used to have a partner, a beautiful elven princess called Tricya, but she vanished at the end of the Oblivion crisis. Reinya Talwen helps Brynjolf and Lucia get to Winterhold, from where they escape through the Midden along with the College staff.

With the help of Babette, the Dark Brotherhood vampire girl, Reinya Talwen arranges an appointment with Silus Vesuius who informs her that there is another faction of elves following Elion Camoran, the son of Mankar Camoran. He is responsible for creating the rotstones, the weapon that feeds on dragon blood and souls.

Jarl Balgruuf has left Whiterun, joining the battle for Windhelm. His loyal housecarl Ilireth falls in the battle. Meanwhile, Karliah decides to infiltrate the city and help from the inside, causing chaos and informing the outside troops of the situation inside. At the end, she is discovered and captured by the Thalmor.

Farkhali, the Khajiit spy and informant for the Thieves Guild, joins Aislinn in her fight and helps rescue Jarl Elisif of Solitude along with imperial general Tullius. They join Madanach and the Forsworn in conquering Markarth, but they may have to face unexpected difficulties as the Argonian fence Gulum-Ei decides to betray them.

Farkhali then decides to go to Whiterun to warn them of an invasion coming from Falkreath but is captured by the Hunter, an Argonian assassin who is soon revealed to be Taveera, a woman who joins the Thalmor in hope to avenge her family by killing General Tullius. Farkhali defeats Taveera in her own game and hurries to Whiterun where she is contacted by Reinya Talwen. She is given access to the city and joins Lydia and Jon Battleborn in preparations for the battle, having to kill Jon's father Olfrid in the process.

And that's what you missed on Strike of the Dead Dragon!

Chapter 45: Bittersweet Memories

"And the Scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled! Alduin, bane of Kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world!" Tye was humming to himself softly, but not softly enough for Aislinn not to hear the words that came out of that mouth.

She stepped out of the gate in silence and looked around. The weather was just about perfect. Shortly after the rain, the air smelled of fresh pine sap, mushrooms and tall flowers of heather. The sky had turned the softest shade of blue, slightly rippled with ethereal white clouds, and the surrounding woods were filled with infinite flutters of the wings, buzzing of the insects and chirping of the birds. Instinctively, she stretched her arms and back, absorbing the fresh air.

Looking down the valley that opened before her, she could tell that Cyrodiil was nothing like Skyrim. The snow covering the summits of the mountains behind Bruma quickly made way to the wild greenery just a short walk ahead. The climate was different, and the smells even more so. Everything was so fresh and full of life. It made her strangely restless.

"And out we go!" the young Imperial said with a smile and spread out his arms. "I have not been in the Imperial City in ages! I wonder what happened to Bertius… he was a fine captain."

"Do not get your hopes too high," a grim voice issued from behind as the head of the Cyrodiil thieves joined them. "There might be nothing left of the city you grew up in."

Aislinn turned to face Ardur. He was wearing the same set of armor as she – dark and thin, fortified by innumerable tiny scales that were barely discernible by human eye. Its cut reminded her of the Shrouded Armor but this one appeared slightly more solid. Strapped to his waist was a short sword and a dagger on one side, his tiny buckler on the other, and on his back he carried a backpack thick with supplies. Attached to it was a thin bedroll.

The Nord put up an almost lethargic face, but beneath that mask of indifference, she could spot something else. Fear, she suspected. Tremendous fear. He looked left, then right. Then ahead, but he did not glance back over his shoulder. Aislinn assumed he was trying to avoid looking at the gate behind.

"Must you always spoil the mood?" Tye grouched, pursing his lips like a child. Not too far from it, Aislinn thought to herself. He was the first one to step on the wide dirt road winding through the forests and over the steep slope which led down to the valley. His back straight, he trod dauntlessly forward like a knight in shining armor.

That too was not far from the truth. The hauberk he was clad in was polished to nigh perfection, and the sturdy leather vest draped over it was spared no expense. It was dyed elegant black and richly decorated with ornate buckles made in gleamy silver. A few straps were all that held his greatsword in place, so the blade could shine like a mirror and reflect the surrounding scenery. The scabbard of his dagger was quilted with silver thread made into tiny dragon ornaments and the dark composite bow sitting over his backpack was neatly lacquered and equipped with silver hooks on its edges to give off a vibe of refined elegance. Ardur's face showed disapproval and Aislinn felt close to joining him.

In the company of those two, Aislinn looked quite out of place. The twin blades she had acquired from Countess Arianna Carvain did not match each other. While one was of daedric origin and pulsed in deep red, the other was a moonstone sword which had been found on one of the countless enemies that had fallen in the battle for Bruma. Her bow was plain and worn, but the many notches it bore implied it was an excellent weapon. She had chosen it herself from among the many polished beautiful bows that the Countess had presented to her. Overall, she did not wear a single pair of things that would match. Her mouth quirked in a smile. In all that roughness, she actually felt quite comfortable.

Before she knew it, they had left the city of Bruma far behind, hidden beyond the horizon. They descended the steep path southward, hornbeam and beech branches dangling above their heads. Ardur kept checking the buckles on his armor, tugging at them every now and then to make sure they were fastened tight. Tye still marched nonchalantly at the frontline, obviously fighting the urge to hum. Aislinn walked between the two, inspecting the surroundings. The rustle of the twigs and leaves, the smell of unknown herbs, she absorbed them and tried to analyze them. She thought she heard movement around. After closer inspection, she was almost certain. The light breeze ruffling the treetops could not produce such sound. There were five… no, ten people about, quietly sneaking along the path.

"We're being followed," she whispered. Ardur promptly caught up with her and shook his head. His hands did not leave the buckles, but his eyes gained a spark that had not been there before.

"We're supposed to be followed. When there's nobody around, that's when we panic."

The number of people surrounding them fell back to five. Aislinn knit her brows.

"They just switched places. What are they? Scouts? Reinforcements?"

"Both. And a lot more. These people will spot an elf miles ahead. They scout, dig up information that a normal person would never even suspect to find. They're also very fast and deadly."

"And vulnerable, I suppose?"

"That… too," the Nord admitted and the shine in his eyes dimmed slightly.

"So… why are you telling me this? For all you know, I could still be a Thalmor spy. Or any spy."

"First, you aren't. And second," he chuckled, "well, let's just say it's a trade secret." He winked at her.

Aislinn put up a sour scowl.

Ardur gave her a pat on the shoulder. His usual smirk returned to his face and his hands finally left the buckles. Instead, he found the hilt of his dagger and caressed the pommel on its top.

An hour passed in silence, save for the buzzing of countless insects, chirping of birds in the treetops and rustling of the breeze in the branches. With every footstep, the air was becoming warmer. They were surrounded by trees and tall grasses. On one hand, it made Aislinn feel safer. It would definitely be harder for a potential enemy to hit their target. On the other hand, she was anxious, realizing that on top of the same disadvantage, she wasn't familiar with the terrain. But then, the trees opened to a view that made all the anxiety go away in one astonished gasp.

Before them lay a vast valley and in its midst stood a city like no other. Tall marble walls created a circle divided into several segments. The walls separating the districts from one another met in the center of the circle, around a tower so tall that it made Castle Volkihar seem like a poor attempt at a joke. The tower, however, from what Aislinn could tell over the distance, was severely damaged and held together by a series of wooden beams. She could recognize scaffolding at its foot. So that must be the famous White-Gold Tower, the pride of the Imperial City and the very place that she was trying to reach. Looking at the massive bulwarks surrounding the city, she felt her heart shrink.

"It's a fortress," she remarked.

"And it's impenetrable," Ardur quipped with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Not funny."

"Well, I suppose not. If you're not me." His grin was somewhat reassuring. Despite herself, Aislinn hinted a smile.

"Don't worry, Ardur knows every rathole in the city!"

"Tye, correct me if I'm wrong, but that didn't sound like a compliment," Ardur commented dryly.

"I'm only stating a fact."

"Sure, sure. Jest all you want, my young friend. Oh, how I can't wait till you actually have to get in the rathole."

Aislinn snickered. At that moment, she could only sympathize with the Nord. She found the prospect of seeing Tye in his shining armor with silk padding tread through the stale, moist sewer channels very entertaining. Curiously enough, the young Imperial did not share her amusement.

"We should move…" Ardur began, but quickly went quiet again. Judging by the way his body stiffened, Aislinn assumed he was straining his ears. She followed his example and sure enough, there was an inconspicuously obvious caw-like bird call. Not a bird she knew, of that she was certain. Perhaps it wasn't even common in Cyrodiil, but chances the elves from Alinor would know that were close to none.

Aislinn quirked a brow in question, but the answer came before she uttered a sound.

"A Caution Type Alert came in. A patrol. Unscheduled. There's just a few of them so they might be messengers."

"A Caution Type Alert?"

"Yes, a Caution Type Alert. It means that we are to meet with someone who may or may not give us some crucial information, but there should be no imminent danger."

"I see," Aislinn nodded. "Do I wait here for you?"

"Thickheaded as a mule," Ardur snorted while patting her on the shoulder. "You should know by now that this is an expedition of three people. Countess Carvain trusts you and therefore we do. We work as a team, which also means sharing information."

Aislinn felt a lump settling in her throat. A tiny voice at the back of her mind whispered to her that this would be the time to reveal her secret. Then she imagined it and her stomach knotted.

"I am the Dragonborn," she would say. And her Nord guide would burst in laughter and explain to her that he is the Emperor of Tamriel. After all, the only reason he trusted her was that the Countess of Bruma did. She bit her lip and let the pain pull her back to reality.

"Lynn?"

"R-right. Let's go then."

"Down to that valley, there's a cave. That's where we'll meet with our scout. The elves don't venture there. It's away from everything. Trade paths, inns, settlements… it's pretty much inaccessible. If you're not me, that is." He gave her a wink.

"I hate you."

"You're welcome!" he dropped a curtsy, surprisingly elegant in his armor, heavy with a crammed backpack.

They left the road and vanished in the bushes and tall grasses. They were full of insects bothering Aislinn on every step. Tiny flies assaulted her eyes and she had to keep her mouth closed for spiders resting on their invisible nets stretched between the trees. Colorful butterflies fluttered their wings, dominating the flowers of dragon tongue and lavender. The air was damp and heavy with innumerable odors and the path before them was steep and blocked by trees and thornbushes. One could not see the treacherous roots and loose rocks under the blanket of grasses and moss. Despite that, Ardur was leading them without hesitation. He knew every rock and branch of this forest. Before him the bushes made way as though bowing to him in reverence.

Aislinn kept close in tow, eyes fixed on his armored feet. They danced among the roots and bumps with unwavering certainty. Behind her Tye was swiftly covering their tracks. For someone of noble origins with a weakness for brave warriors and shining armors, he was now acting like a true thief.

The sun was high up in the sky, shining through the treetops with strength Aislinn wasn't used to. After a while of lurking through the unbridled greenery, a ravine opened before them. Through it ran a wild creek burbling over the pebbles and humming as it broke into a tall waterfall. Aislinn could see a small rainbow forming amid the haze surrounding it. A few steps from its foot was an entrance to a cave, covered by several rotten planks. Ardur came to a halt, scrutinizing the landscape.

"Might have to kill a few goblins," he informed.

"Are we in for a tough fight?" Aislinn asked, inspecting the ground around them. The grass was trampled down in some places, but she would have suspected a wild boar. She was glad she had a guide.

"Scared?" the Nord quipped.

"Calculating."

"With your skills, I don't think you have anything to worry about. They're hostile and come in numbers, but in a one on one fight, a blindfolded kid could probably take them down."

Aislinn nodded.

There was a strange, gurgling sound coming from the cave. Most of it was drowned by the waterfall, but Aislinn's trained ears could still catch some of it. She froze, hands on the hilts of her swords. The planks blocking the entrance moved. Something hit them from the inside. One, two three… and they fell on the ground, making a pile of debris that was soon trampled down or kicked to the side as a number of peculiar ape-like creatures with greenish hairless skin and long pointy ears surged out. A small piece of ragged, filthy loincloth was all that covered their bodies. They were croaking and showing their sharp distinct teeth, just as yellow as their eyes. Rather than running, they were skipping, waving all kinds of weapons. There were daggers, old swords, spears, maces, even pickaxes. Most of them had probably been thrown away by someone a long time ago.

"Fascinating," said Aislinn and almost forgot to draw her swords. More than afraid or wary, she was feeling amused.

"You are!" Ardur laughed and earned himself a glare. "Even if they're vermin, don't underestimate them!" he added, dagger already in his hand. His lips widened into an excited grin as he tightened his grip. Aislinn could hear Tye behind her draw his two-handed sword. She followed with her twin blades.

They formed a triangle with their backs to each other. Deadly as they were, the goblins were falling one by one. Aislinn felt almost sorry for them as she whirled her blades and danced between their corpses. Most of them fell in one or two swings. One, bigger than the rest and crowned with a circle made of beast teeth, resisted. He fought with an axe that was larger than his own body, swinging it like a wooden toy sword. Aislinn and Ardur both lunged toward him… and clashed into each other, fighting for the honor to kill him.

"Oh, come on!" Tye groaned and jabbed his sword into the ground out of spite. "Cut it out, you two! We've got better things to do!"

They grinned at each other like two madmen and charged at the goblin who, in the meantime, chose Aislinn as his opponent. She could see the pattern. She was just a woman. So many before him had made the same mistake. Her grin widened.

"No fair!" Ardur shot Aislinn a hurt look and picked up his speed.

Then, an arrow pierced the goblin master's forehead and the creature hit the ground before any of them could touch him. Aislinn growled like a wolf that had lost its prey.

"Tye!" both of them exclaimed at once. The Imperial raised his empty hands as they turned to him, shrugging. The two of them gaped at him and then froze as they heard a rustle nearby.

A man emerged from one of the surrounding bushes, face behind a pitch-black mask. Only his deep amber eyes with thin pupils were visible. In his hands, he was gripping a small recurve bow made of dogwood.

"The Khajiit thought you could use help," he shrugged.

"Dar'tush," Ardur exhaled. "Must you ruin everything?!"

"Time is of essence, Master Ardur," he reminded him and granted the Nord a polite bow. From his voice, Aislinn could hear the smile on his lips.

"Yes, I know. I was just going to… ah, all right! Thank you. Shall we?" He pointed toward the cave.

Dar'tush hesitated.

"I know, stale air, carcass piles… but we are in plain sight here."

"If we are followed in the cave, there will be no way out."

"How many people are around at the moment?"

Aislinn could count six. Seven if she included Dar'tush.

"Eight," the Khajiit replied without hesitation. He put his bow to its place on his back and adopted a seemingly relaxed position. Aislinn knew from his stance that he was in fact constantly scanning the land.

"Correct," Ardur nodded.

She frowned. "Six. That Khajiit is…"

The Nord put a hand on her shoulder. "Eight," he said and gave her a wink.

She raised her brows in confusion, but he did not elaborate, instead, he gave another nod and pointed to the waterfall.

Good choice, Aislinn thought. If someone were to eavesdrop on them, they wouldn't be able to pick out the words in the humming of the foamy water. Not even if they had the sensitive elven hearing.

They retreated under the waterfall. Aislinn noticed a niche in the rock behind it. When she inspected it further, she realized that it led directly to the cave. Light, warm breeze was coming out of there. So no stale air, most likely no carcass piles… and there definitely was another way out. She smiled. Of course, the Skyrim Thieves Guild was not the only organization that used codes in their communication.

"Two more people added to the actual number present?" she asked. "That's how you know they are who they pass themselves off as?"

Ardur laughed. "Clever, but no. This time, it was two."

She nodded. Codes within codes. That too was typical. She asked no more.

The water felt refreshing in the warm air. Aislinn stretched out an arm and let it brush her fingers. She found herself drawn to the waterfall, wanting to let it wash her whole person. Unfortunately, they only passed it and entered the niche, carefully treading over the slippery boulders in its entrance. The walls were covered in soft moss on the outer side, drowning the sound of their footsteps. The inside of the cave, on the contrary, was quite dry thanks to the constantly circulating air. There was a venthole in the ceiling that let the air in. No light shone through it and no water was dripping from it, which made Aislinn assume it was winding through the rock.

"We just assaulted a pack of goblins right in their home," she knit her brows.

"Having guilty conscience now?" Ardur scoffed. "No, this wasn't their home."

"It's not like they were hurting anyone."

"They would have, if people traveled the roads," Tye opposed. "Back in my… back in the day, this used to be a mine. See that shaft over there? That leads deep down to the iron deposits – or the place where they used to be. The veins are exhausted to the last drop, but the fact that the place was built by people remains. That venthole up there is a part of our masterpiece, the Windroutes System."

"Windroutes System?"

"The best ventilation system on Tamriel. There is a whole network under the mountain. Took years to build. Most of it were just tiny holes that people carved out in the ground and the rest was done by nature. Of course, when we left it, the goblins took a liking to the place. We built a home for them and what did we get in return? They raided our roads and nearby inns. Before the Thalmor invasion, the Empire had to spend thousands of septims on patrols every year, just so the roads were safe for our people. So no, don't feel remorse for those nasty little creatures. Animals will at least leave our children alone. But not goblins, no."

"You sound like you have some bad memories of them."

"We… have a history, let's leave it at that."

"Speaking of stories," Ardur cut in, "What do you have for us, Dar'tush?"

"Yes," the Khajiit nodded as he leaned against a wall lined with animal skulls. Aislinn's eyes slid to his tail, wound around his leg like she had never seen before. "Dar'tush and his party followed an elf group. We counted six heads. They were heading northwest to the Jerall Mountains. Possibly to the Falkreath pass. But there was something strange about this group. We already know that the Thalmor have some kind of internal communication system, but these were not sneaky thieves, nor were they armed like soldiers. I am certain they were messengers. And they did not use their secret path."

"Meaning," Ardur said, chin between his thumb and index finger, "they are keeping secrets internally. Is there some kind of discord among our elven friends?"

"It is strange, but the Khajiit has heard them talking about four different masters. Two of them seem to be divine, the other two their spokespersons. Spiritual leaders of sorts. There is something going on with the elves. Dar'tush feels unrest in their ranks. They are becoming careless. Distracted."

Aislinn and Ardur both tensed, eyes narrow in contemplation.

"Sects? Two factions? That would change the whole situation."

"In a way," Tye joined, "but religious fanatics is bad news."

"How is that bad news?"

"Because they don't know restraint," Aislinn said grimly. "They will stop at nothing to achieve what they want because it will all be justified. You can capture them and whip the soul out of their body, you can exhaust them, burn them, pierce them, eat them alive… they will fight till the bitter end and to the last man."

"Exactly," the Imperial seconded. "Even if they are divided, there have been no signs of it until now. Someone does their best to keep them working together. We cannot underestimate them."

"That we can't," Ardur nodded, "but we finally have something to focus on. After months of nothing… we have our first real clue."

"Ardur, we've run out of resources. The Imperial legion has been dispersed. The thieves are few and my men… they can't possibly…"

"One. One person is enough," Ardur concluded. "If there was just one person who'd plant a single seed of doubt among them…"

"You mean one sacrifice," Tye scoffed. "Ardy, I've had enough of your sneaking. I'm tired of this."

"Tired won't win the war. Please, Tye… bear with me. Trust me."

"I cannot allow this," the youngster shook his head resolutely. Aislinn's eyes shifted from one to the other and back. She had always thought that Ardur was the one deciding things. But now he looked like a faithful servant to Tye. Even his head was slightly bowed as though he was showing his respect.

The Nord sighed. "Dar'tush, do you have anything else?"

"Master Aloth sends his regards."

"Good. Tell him to ready the ensemble."

"No sooner said than done," he said, lowering his head. Then he wheeled around and disappeared into the light of the outside world. Aislinn blinked and stared at the place where she had seen his silhouette just a moment before.

"You know, Tye," she mused, "there are times when one has to make sacrifices for the greater good."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if sacrificing one man means saving thousands, it's still a good gamble. I'm not saying I would be happy about the man's death. But I definitely would celebrate the thousand of lives I've saved."

"And what does a mercenary know? What do you know about me and my role? What do you even care?!"

"True, I don't know anything. It's just that I figured that you two play a key role in Cyrodiil's resistance. Okay, so, say I'm a mercenary that is aware of her skill. I know I am capable of saving people, but I have to earn a living somehow. So I accept coin for doing what I'm good at. Do I feel ashamed? No. There are those who scoff at me. But if I am not able to feed myself, I can't save anyone anymore, no? So, out of two people asking me to help them, I would choose the one who pays more. For me, it means that I'll be able to pay for my food, weapons and armor. Therefore, I'll be able to save more people. Unfortunately, the nature of life dictates that we have to make choices we don't want to make."

"Silence. I don't want a mercenary to…"

"Tye." Ardur lay a firm hand on the youngster's shoulder.

"What?"

A deep breath. "Shut up and open your eyes, please."

"You dare…"

"And you," he continued, pointing a finger at Aislinn, "stop the charade. You could have taken the five thousand septims the Countess was offering to you and tried to bribe the map of Cyrodiil dungeon out of me. You could have taken the coin and simply run away with it. You came empty-handed, sneaked your way into the city, fought like none other, asked for a lame piece of armor and an amulet to protect you for reward and promised to find the Count. You don't work for gold. And what mercenary would go on a mission to break into the White-Gold Tower? Damn, even I think it's insane. You must be desperate."

"Ever heard of the Grey Fox?"

Tye coughed at the mention of the name. Ardur grinned.

"Well, that was a very long time ago. You don't want to tell me you're on a mission to steal an Elder Scroll for fun, do you? Because if you are, I have to disappoint you. There are no Elder Scrolls left. Oh, and the Thalmor won't bother with dragging you to jail, I'm afraid."

Aislinn chuckled. "Fair point. No, I am not."

"I suppose it's none of my business, but say… aren't you exactly the sacrificial lamb we were talking about? I don't mean to discourage you but what are the odds of making it out of there alive?"

The Dragonborn gave a bitter laugh that sent chills down her companions' spines. "Self-appointed. Chances are close to none. But failure is not an option."

Ardur stared at her incredulously. His young friend only expressed confusion. She could see the question in their eyes, but they both gazed at her in silence, refraining from articulating it. After a long pause, the Nord spoke.

"We should proceed. It'll be dark before we reach Bleaker's Way and I wouldn't venture after dusk. The elves will find themselves in quite an advantage then."

"Bleaker's Way? Are we resting in an inn?"

"No, but there's a hideout just before the village. I can't discard the possibility that the elves found it, but if they did, we'll know right away."

Aislinn nodded as they exited the cave. The sunlight made her blink momentarily and she nearly tripped over a goblin corpse.

"Anyway," Ardur added, "prepare for a poor dinner tonight. No fires."

Aislinn shrugged. "Used to it."

"Figures. Don't you think I forgot what you said this morning. Seriously. No spices?"

"Oh please!"

"Monkey woman."

"Sure, let's just go."

Climbing uphill, back to the mountains, proved an arduous task. Once again, Ardur led the way. The weight on their backs worked against them and every branch that stood in their way threatened to whip them back to the valley if they weren't careful.

"Try not to get yourself too scratched," Ardur warned. "Many beasts of this forest are attracted to the smell of blood. To them, weakened prey is as good as dead."

"Neat," Aislinn panted as she carefully stepped over a loose rock. "You know, I kind of miss Skyrim. You can't smell anything in the cold winds."

"Certainly," Tye joined, "freezing to death has always been my dream."

"And then there's that, yeah," Aislinn added matter-of-factly. Ardur at the front chuckled.

It took them over an hour to climb back to their path. Ardur led them slightly to the west, away from the main road. He knew the terrain well and found a passable path over soft cushions of bright green moss. Aislinn was bothered by the endless buzzing of the insects and damp air. She was now regretting not cutting her hair. Time and time again she had to untangle a stray beetle from there. So far, Cyrodilic jungle-like woods were definitely not her favorite. How the Argonians managed to live in their marshes, she could not even imagine.

Hours passed. Save for a short break for a meal, they kept descending the slope, the view before them covered by impenetrable walls of trees, bushes and tall grasses. Aislinn was astonished. There were so many colors she did not even know from Skyrim. The leaves took all kinds of colors, not only various shades of green, but also bright red, golden yellow, lava orange or even dusk pink. Occasionally there was even matte silver. And then there were flowers and butterflies. Some of them were as big as the palm of her hand. They reminded her of Lucia. The tiny, beautiful creature that could soar to the sky and take words out of your mouth. A smile formed on her lips by itself.

"What?" Ardur asked, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Aislinn shrugged.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"Well, not that I was reacting to that, but there's that mole under your mouth…" she replied without a hint of hesitation.

"What?! I don't have a mole under my…"

Tye laughed.

"Damn. Are all Northerners like this?"

"You're a Nord yourself!"

"Maybe, but I'm not in the slightest afraid to use all the advantages offered by the comfortable southern climate."

"I can see that," Aislinn grumbled.

"No," Ardur opposed, lips widening in a heavenly smile, "you can't. That's the beauty of it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look ahead."

There was a wall of greenery like none other. Bushes with fiery red wood blocked their path as far as eye could see, thick leaves filling every gap. Aislinn hesitated.

"Well, it looks like a dead end to me."

"Emphasis on looks like," Ardur said, expression unchanged. He kept walking… until he disappeared in the red and green.

"What?" Aislinn's eyes widened in surprise.

"Blazewort," Tye shrugged. "Go on. There's a surprise waiting for you inside."

Aislinn gave him a slightly disconcerted look before setting off. She walked cautiously, feeling too vulnerable for her liking. Then, she touched the branches.

It felt as though they were alive. A tingling sensation spread through her body as the bushes pulled her in. She thought of fighting them, hand reaching for the hilt of one of her swords, but then again, she believed that Ardur and Tye would not lure her into a trap. She walked on and the plants supported her, took her in and guided her through the maze like a lost child. She walked on… and emerged in a hollow surrounded by many more of those strange plants. They were casting a long shadow over it as the sun was slowly setting to the western horizon. Ardur was standing in the middle, next to a crumbling coal structure looking like a huge round portal. Giant thorns in the color of blood protruded from the ground. She stared at her guide.

"Is that a…"

"Oblivion gate, yes," the Nord nodded. "How do you like our resting place?"

She knit her brows.

"These plants appeared a few years after the Oblivion crisis," Tye explained as the fiery branches released him. "We were afraid at first, of course. But as time passed, some dared approach them and even test them. Daedric plants. What good could they be? We tried everything. Touching them, burning them, even cooking them. Nothing. They aren't toxic, they don't hurt you… they're not good for firewood, though. They burn too fast."

"Well," Ardur laughed, "most people are still scared as rats. As if there wasn't enough superstition, they've made up more myths about them than you can find in Anuad. So, apparently, Mehrunes Dagon will tear up your soul if you approach blazewort. If you take it home and plant it by your house, the roots will set it on fire, even if it was built in obsidian. If you eat it, Mehrunes Dagon will possess you, and when you die, you go right to his realm. Ah, I just love people."

Aislinn was silent. She stopped her hand from reaching up to the amulet of Talos around her neck but her body stiffened. She struggled to conceal her conflict. Not only did she feel too close to Mehrunes Dagon for her liking, but if the Thalmor were somehow involved in his schemes, this would be their favorite place.

"Are you sure we won't be found?"

"No, and that's why we take shifts on watch. Nowhere is safe with the pointy ears around, but according to my resources, even the Thalmor avoid the blazewort. Well, at the very least, we can be sure we would hear them come."

I hope your resources aren't wrong then, Aislinn thought to herself. Reluctantly, she shook off her backpack and sat on the ground. It was covered in dry grasses and ash-like fine-grained sand. She picked up a handful.

"Come morning, it's going to be everywhere," she commented colorlessly.

"Afraid to get the sand under your pretty nails, princess?"

"Pffft, Ardur, aren't you the one who was…"

"Shhhh! She doesn't need to know!"

Aislinn's eyes shifted between the two of them. She could not help but smile.

"You know," she said as she unpacked her bedroll, "I think I could do worse for a company." With that, she laid herself on the soft hide and watched the darkening lavender sky. Just barely she could make out the light orbs of Masser and Secunda.

"I… think that was a compliment," Tye informed his friend. Ardur let out a theatrical snort.

"Well, don't get too attached," he muttered. "We'll soon be parting ways anyway."

"Don't be such a grouch, Ardy."

Aislinn rolled over to her side and watched the Nord unfasten the buckles on his backpack. Something in his eyes bothered her but she was too afraid to ask. He suddenly seemed so very distant. Silence broke out. The unpleasant kind of silence that makes one want to hide and shut the door. Tye decided to break it.

"Let's play a game!" he offered.

"Are you joking?"

"Well, let's sit in a circle…"

"Triangle," Ardur growled.

"All right, a triangle. So, we take these straws and a cup," he withdrew an iron cup from his backpack, "throw them in like this and look where the tallest one is pointing. The name of the constellation it's pointing to will be our topic. Each of us will have to pick a story from our lives related to this topic and tell it."

"And who wins?"

"Life is not always about winning or losing, Ardy," Tye remarked with a sage-like expression. Aislinn put a hand over her mouth to suppress a chuckle.

"Fine, whatever. Let's do it."

"Lynn?"

She nodded.

"All right. I'll start." And he threw the straws of dry grass into the cup. Aislinn watched them fall and spread into a notched circle. The tallest stuck out like a lonely tree and pointed to the sky. She followed its path.

"Wolf," the three of them said at once.

Ardur smiled. "So," he began, "this was back when I was lone thief and didn't belong to a guild. In the Imperial City, I found a noble, collector of rare items, especially things like teeth, antlers or pelts taken from rare animals. She was desperately searching for the pelt of a golden winter wolf. I don't have to say that there are no golden winter wolves. You, faring from up north, likely know it better than anyone else. But she was so obsessed with it that she was willing to give anything to have one's pelt. So I bought a nice tunic just for this occasion, forged a trading license and hired an alchemist. I gave him a wolf pelt and asked him to bleach it white-gold. I remember the baffled look in his eyes, but I offered him a good sum so he did what I wanted. On top of that, he made the fur softer. I approached the woman and offered her the pelt for as little as fifty thousand septims."

"Ardy!" Tye gasped, brows furrowed in outrage.

"What? You wanted me to tell a story."

"Well, but… ah, whatever. Go on."

"You see, I told her I was a hunter from an old Nord tribe that traces their roots back to the ancient Nedic era and that only we know where to find these sacred creatures. She believed every word I said and offered me to pay extra coin for delivery, cleaning and all kinds of stuff she made up. I gladly accepted."

Ardur paused to take a deep breath.

"So you became rich by this scam?" Aislinn asked.

"Well, partially. I financed a research focused on northern wolf species, explaining how people can mistake all kinds of white wolves for the nonexistent golden winter wolves. I paid an influential collector of encyclopediae to host a ball for scientists. I forged an invitation and sent it to the woman. She came there, of course. And the rest is history."

Tye chuckled. "Not that I approve of your way, but this woman indeed got what she deserved."

"From you, I'll take that as a compliment," Ardur said with a smile. "Lynn, what will you tell us?"

Wolf. There were so many memories. Her first fight with a wolf just before entering Riverwood. Her encounter with Hircine. And the death of Kodlak. Dear Kodlak who had taken her in unconditionally, who had loved her for who she was and left her just when she was about to return his freedom to him.

"There was a rumor in Whiterun," she said, "that Jorrvaskr, the Companions' mead hall, is home to a pack of werewolves. It was especially popular among the guards and, of course, children. The Harbinger supported it because it kept most prying eyes away."

"Wait," Tye cut in, "are you a member of the Companions?"

"That I am, yes."

"Oh. That's… unexpected. My opinion on you may have just slightly changed."

Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. So, there was this rumor. One day, the guards decided that it would be very amusing to send the newbies to investigate. So they sent a pair of freshly recruited boys to spy on us at night. We first let them and feigned fear of being discovered. When it became annoying, we dressed two of our men in our famous wolf armor and let them wait in the dormitories. They were twins, famous for being fierce fighters who never give up and never lose. When the guards came, the twins were waiting for them in a closet. But at the same time, Tilma, our caretaker, decided to clean it. They lunged at her, roaring and howling, and before they realized she wasn't one of the guards, she was storming out, spitting curses at them and everyone who got in her way. For a month, she kept inviting the two guards to Jorrvaskr for meals and always gave them the twins' meat while the brothers were only served raw onions."

"Poor guys!" Ardur shuddered.

"Especially when one of them hates onions," Aislinn added with a smile. The story was true. No one needed to know that the rumor about werewolves was also true. "Your turn, Tye."

The young Imperial nodded and cupped his own head in the palms of his hands.

"I know the story he's going to tell," Ardur whispered to Aislinn in feigned secrecy. Tye grimaced.

"There was this time," he said, "when we went hunting with my father's friends. The scouts we sent ahead didn't realize that there was a she-wolf with cubs and she attacked them. Our men killed her, but the cubs lay there, entirely defenseless and innocent. I wanted to keep them. Our Master Huntsman argued that wolf does not belong with man and tried to make us leave before I get any crazy ideas. I still managed to snatch one of the pups and hide it in my sack. Now that I think about it," he added a soft chuckle, "it was pretty reckless of me and the pup was lucky to be alive when we returned home. But he was. I named him Inmyr. I kept sneaking out of the castle so I could raise him and train him. My father always wondered where I went and many a time I received a scolding or punishment. Nevertheless, I somehow managed to hide him for two years. Then, one day, there was an assassination attempt on our Master Huntsman. It was Inmyr who saved him by charging at the attackers. He was killed in the process. Our Master Huntsman kept apologizing to me and personally found me a new pup. But it could never replace Inmyr."

Aislinn made a mental note about a castle and Master Huntsman. Whoever Tye was, he seemed to come from a very high-ranking family. Ardur was frowning at his friend, but it wasn't the kind of frown one shows after hearing a sad story. It was a reproach. Aislinn smiled inwardly.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Tye," she said to him compassionately. The youngster shrugged.

"I only have good memories of him. Your turn."

They continued for a while, heads turned to the stars aloft. As it became darker and darker, Aislinn noticed a faint glow from the surrounding blazeworts. She could see the shadows on the faces of her two companions and the cold of the night stayed at a bearable level. Ardur was restless again, not only watching the bushes, but also stealing glances of her person. She wondered whether there was something on her face or a loose buckle on her armor, but upon checking it thoroughly, she discovered nothing. As he kept shifting between her and the plants, she too started secretly watching him.

"Your turn," Ardur informed Tye and earned himself a nod. Six turns had passed. Aislinn was tired and getting ready to pass out.

Tye took the straws and threw them into the cup. His eyes followed the path of the longest straw and he hesitated. A concerned look in Ardur's direction told Aislinn something was amiss. "Brothers," he said. Ardur froze and a shadow passed over his face.

"My turn, ain't it?" he sighed.

"You don't have to…"

"No, I'll say it. Since we're getting to know each other, I'll do it properly."

He paused and took a deep breath.

"I had a brother," he said, eyes now pinned to his own feet. "A twin. My dearest person. We lived together with our father. Our mother died when she gave birth to us so it was just the three of us. Our father was a merchant but never gave us a single coin. We had to tend to his house, serve his guests and sometimes…"

"Ardy, please."

"Let me finish, Tye. I want her to know."

Aislinn raised a brow but let him continue.

"Sometimes they asked for one of us in person to fulfill some of their… darker desires."

A part of Aislinn wanted to tell him to stop. She suppressed it, watching him with tense eyes and lips pressed together. He was trembling, but his voice was steady.

"If we didn't oblige, we took a beating. So we had to manage and beg for alms while being his servants. The women father brought home with him were sometimes kind to us and left us a sweetroll or a sack of strawberries. Others were worse than our father and beat us when we weren't clean enough for them or when we didn't smile while serving them wine. Needless to say we could never satisfy them. Father had his people everywhere and promised he would find us if we tried to escape or plot behind his back. I didn't doubt for a second that he would keep his word, so I endured and the days dragged on."

Ardur groped about his backpack, pulled out a flask and took a sip. He hugged his knees like a child trying to find warmth.

"One day, father ordered us to prepare the house for some very special guests. He never told us who they were, just that we were to clean all the rooms, prepare wine, cook all kinds of meals and bring him a folder with some documents. I did the cooking. My brother served wine and it was his task to bring that folder. But once he reached the great hall where the guests had gathered, he tripped. Or, rather, he was tripped. Some woman – and I'm sure she was an Altmer – put her husband's cane in his way when he was carrying the documents to father. He tripped, fell down and she spilled red wine on the documents. We couldn't read at that time so I don't know what kind of documents they were. But when this happened, a fight broke out among the guests and eventually, they all left. Father was furious and beat my brother until he lost consciousness. I… I could just watch," Ardur's voice broke into a quivering whisper. "Even after a week, my father kept tormenting my poor, bedridden brother with more beatings and threats. My brother begged me to run away with him, but I couldn't. I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

Ardur clenched his fists and rested his forehead on his knees. Aislinn suppressed the urge to place her hand on his. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"After a few more days, I found his bed empty. He left a note, or, rather, a picture. Two people, watching the sunrise together. I knew he meant us. I was almost happy. If my brother could escape far enough to be out of my father's reach… well, but it never happened. I heard a group of renegades got him. Cyrodiil has been full of them ever since the beginning of the war with Alinor. They were known to never let their prisoners out alive. I haven't heard of my brother since. A few years later, I killed my father and destroyed his business. That's how I became a thief. But I can't shake off the feeling that it'll never be enough to avenge my brother."

There was a rasp in his voice. It made him sound old and worn. Aislinn watched him motionlessly, eyes fixed on his silhouette. The bushes behind him lit the hollow with dim crimson glow. There was a familiar ticklish sensation in her stomach.

"Say, Ardur…"

"Hmm?"

"What was your brother's name?"

Ardur slowly raised his head until his eyes met with Aislinn's.

"Brynjolf," he said.

As much as she was expecting it, there was an eruption in Aislinn's head. She clenched her fists and exhaled deeply. She would have never guessed. That composed Brynjolf, the man she had grown to love, had been abused, beaten, enslaved and neglected. The mere thought was enough to make her feel scared and anxious. She wanted to run back to him. But he was so far away.

"Why are you as… Lynn?" Ardur leaned closer to her, enough to make her feel his breath on her cheeks. "Are you… crying?"

"I… no!" she backed away abruptly. She felt salt on her lips and realized she was lying.

"I didn't mean to… by the gods, you're still a woman, aren't you?" he told her gently as he brushed his fingers over her face. She shuddered under his touch. "It's ok. This part of my life is over. Let's go to sleep. We have a big day ahead of us."

She nodded and so did Tye, giving his friend a light pat on the shoulder. The three of them checked the perimeter for potential perils, made sure their backpacks were prepared in case they had to flee, and buried themselves deep in their bedrolls.

"I'll keep the first watch," Tye announced. "I will wake you in three hours, Ardy."

"Please do."

And then it was quiet. Aislinn clutched the fur rim of her bedroll and closed her eyes, but sleep didn't come. Again and again, Brynjolf's scarred face appeared before her eyes, wearing an expression of pain and despair. Next to her, she could hear Ardur shifting restlessly from one side to another. She tried to concentrate on her breath and imagine dark, vast nothingness. She was still wide awake when she heard a rustle of the grass next to her. She assumed that Ardur too was awake. She decided to lie there motionlessly, pretending to be asleep.

"Can't sleep?" Tye's voice was a barely audible whisper.

Aislinn couldn't hear Ardur's reply, but she heard movement behind her, as though he was turning around to check on something.

"What are you…"

"Is she asleep?"

"Suppose so. Like a carcass. At least she can rest properly now."

Not really, thought Aislinn inwardly but said nothing. Someone wise had once said that eavesdropping is rude. If that was true, she was about to be very rude. She waggled slightly and muttered something inarticulate to add credibility to her feigned sleep. She heard Ardur chuckle.

"Hopefully," he said.

"Ardy, are you okay? Are you still thinking about your brother?"

"Strangely, no. I'm thinking… about her. Why in Oblivion was she crying?"

"Maybe she's easily moved?"

"She's a thief, dammit! And a warrior… one minute you think she's nothing but a fighting machine and a robbing jester, she thinks like man and fights like a dragon… but then… this?"

"You said it. She's still a woman." There was a hint of smile in Tye's statement.

"I'd like to know what she is. Countess Carvain knows, I'm sure of it. She's strangely interested in our affairs and intends to break into the White-Gold Tower. How in Oblivion do you do that? One does not simply walk into the Imperial City and ask the guards. Even if we use the sewers, the chance of success is…" the Nord let his voice fade away.

"Your voice is betraying you, my friend," Tye purred softly. Aislinn resisted the urge to turn around so she could hear him better. "You were right. I don't like the prospect of getting drabbled in a filthy, damp sinkhole. But even I shiver with excitement when I see your thrilled eyes. Damn, a few years back, I would have laughed at myself."

"You just described what I feel when I look into hers. Like they are trying to comfort me, say that everything is going to be all right... and at the same time, they are telling me to prepare for the ride of my life. I don't even… this feels weird. So wrong. And so right. Y'know?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Of course you don't," Ardur sighed. "I'm not making any sense, am I?" And another sigh. That was one too many. Aislinn had a bad feeling about this. The next moment, Tye laughed so loud that she had to growl to pretend to have her sleep disturbed.

"Shhh!" Ardur scolded him in half-whisper. "You'll wake her! What's so funny?"

"Do you hear yourself, Ardy?" Tye asked, hardly containing giggles.

"W-well, you don't have to laugh. If you think I'm weird, you can just say it out loud. I thought we were through this."

"No, Ardy, I don't think you're weird. I think you're in love." Ardur gasped and started coughing. Aislinn nearly did the same, holding her breath and clenching her fists under the leathery rug. Love? Ridiculous! They had only known each other for…

"I… what?! But I've only known her for two damn days!" In her thoughts, Aislinn nodded furiously.

"And over those two days, you two have shared things that most normal people don't ever get to experience. That is funny. So many women line up to just talk to you, yet you have to fall for the one that only sees you as an errand boy." Errand boy. Right you are, young Imperial.

"Silence. I don't want to hear this from you."

Tye failed to hide his amusement. "Good Mara. What should we do with you? You better start thinking of ways to impress her, my dear friend, or she'll fly away."

"No. No no no. Absolutely no!"

"Okay, so, tell me, Ardy. If she were to die this very instant. How would you feel about it?"

There was a lull in which Aislinn listened to her strangely accelerated heartbeat. She did not dare utter a sound. There was a knot on her stomach which threatened to explode. What in Oblivion was just happening? She wished Brynjolf was here with her. So many things would clear up. She could tell Ardur that his brother is alive. And that her heart already belongs to him. This whole situation would dissolve into a memory. And the situation that was about to get much worse.

"Oh please, don't do this to me."

"Your answer?"

"I'd… hate it. So much that… I don't know! Stop asking! This is not the right time for this. There's too much at stake."

Aislinn could hear a content sigh. "Maybe that's why it is a good time for this. Sleep on it, Ardy. I think this trip is about to get very interesting."

"Don't you try sage-talking me now. You find it entertaining to see me like this? At a time like this?"

"Yes and no. I sincerely think you need some love and passion in your life."

"Don't put me together with the likes of you. I'm not the crazy sentimental type that fights invaders by founding a theatre. Although I must admit, that was a pretty neat idea."

"You're about to see the fruits of our labor. But now, go to sleep, for the Nine's sake. You need to be in full strength tomorrow."

"So you're expecting me to sleep, eh? Don't count on that."

"I know. Just do your best."

"As you wish," Ardur grumbled. There was a rustle as he slid into his bedroll, and suddenly, Aislinn found him too close for her liking. She pressed her eyelids tightly together and wished she could undo the conversation she had just overheard. But the words kept coming back to her, loud and clear. She gave up, put her hands over her ears and dug herself deep into the pelts. Next to her, Ardur must have done the same.

That night, two out of three people did not sleep a wink.

Andariath Torelloy trod through a dark corridor of stone and mortar, holding the body of a delirious wizard over his shoulder. From time to time, he sent out a tiny spark of pure magic, inspecting the space around him to create an illusion that would help him find the way. This troublesome process would end soon, but right now there were more important things at hand. He could make new eyes any time, just like he had back then. With her by his side.

The corridor mouthed into a rectangular chamber dimly lit by greenish crystals and lamps made in bronze metal. Everything in it was made in stone. Chairs, tables, even the bed in the corner and the wardrobe next to it. He could never understand how the Dwemer, just like their Ayleid predecessors, could have been so obsessed with this cold, lifeless grey matter when everything that breathed was so much more appealing. Then again, they had been able to give life to metal. Maybe, if time had been kinder to them, they could have given life to stone as well.

He lay his guest on the cold bed. Just for the effect, he pulled a thin rope out of his robes and nonchalantly tangled it around him. Then he lifted the spell and replaced it with paralysis, only giving the man enough room to speak. The wizard moaned and whined wordlessly.

"Silence," Andariath hissed derisively and buried the tip of his boot in the man's stomach. The man cried out.

"Now," the Aldmer's voice turned into a soft whisper as he bent over his victim, their faces nearly touching one another, "where did we stop? Oh yes… the Dwemer. That is your area of expertise, is it not?"

"Humpf!" the man snorted.

"Calcelmo…" The Aldmer's voice sounded almost sympathetic. His sightless face twisted in fake compassion, despite the fact that the wizard could not see an inch of it. "You don't have to go through this."

"You don't either… ahhh!"

Andariath shifted his weight and buried his foot deeper. His expression hardened. He yanked his head to shake the mop of blonde hair out of his face. It did not hinder his sight, of course. But the tickling sensation that spread in his cheeks every now and then was beginning to annoy him. Just as was this pathetic whining creature. "Just answer my question. The Dwemer created a device that is supposedly capable of transferring a soul. You know of it, correct?"

"What do you expect me to say?" Calcelmo spat. He tried to shift and waggle, but the spell was too strong and his body too weak. "Whatever answer I am going to give you, you're not going to be happy."

"That is not for you to decide. Now answer me!"

"And if I knew, what would you do with the knowledge, Andariath Torelloy?"

The Aldmer's face twisted in anger and he put a hand around the man's neck. "Who told you my name?"

Calcelmo laughed. "Oh dear… you of all people should not be surprised to see that there is someone who still remembers you."

"I erased all–"

"No, you didn't. You are blind."

"You don't say," Andariath uttered and twitched his foot. Calcelmo screamed inadvertently but did not give in.

"No… your eyes have… n-nothing to do with it. One would say that wisdom comes with age… but you are not wise. You have learnt… nothing. You had been betrayed long before you knew it."

"Wha… no… Tricya… no!"

"And only now you realize."

"My Tricya wouldn't betray me. She would never betray me! I saved her!"

"You are still so blind…"

"Where is she?"

A snort was the only answer Calcelmo gave.

"You will tell me." Andariath grabbed the man ruthlessly by the collar and dragged him away from the room. His feet were sweeping the floor, and every little piece of rock or protrusion on the way scratched them until they were red with countless tiny wounds. The wizard hissed and moaned in pain, but did not attempt to beg for mercy.

The Aldmer took him through several corridors, until a hall full of various pumps, resonators and other devices opened before them. If this had been a normal day, Calcelmo would have screamed with joy on such an opportunity to study the Dwemer culture. Now, however, his eyes were fixed on a crowd of silent people that were scattered throughout the room, lying bound and gagged. He recognized most of them. They were citizens of Markarth, and up on an elevated platform lay a Redguard woman like a crown jewel on a pedestal.

"Faleen," the wizard breathed.

The woman muttered something under the gag, but no word of hers was comprehensible.

"It takes but a snap of my fingers to kill all of them. And one word from you to save them."

Calcelmo closed his eyes. He could feel his insides turning upside down and knotting and his lips shaking.

"N-no. I… know your kind. Y-you would… never spare them." He almost had to force the words out of his mouth.

Andariath's expression was pure anger. He slammed the poor mage on the floor until he screamed in pain and grabbed his neck. Several muffled gasps rose from the crowd.

"Where… is… my… Tricya?"

"You will not find her. And I won't tell you anything. Ever. Even if I have to die."

"No," the Aldmer whispered. "You will not die. I will not grant you such comfort."

Calcelmo pressed his lips tightly together, but that did not stop them from trembling. Almost unwillingly he watched as Andariath Torelloy left him there, lying on the floor, and walked in the middle of the recumbent crowd, just beside the Redguard woman. There he stopped and inhaled deeply, caressing the woman's neck. She turned away in disgust, trying to shake his hand off. He lifted his hands and called for a spell. A dark colorless sphere that seemed to swallow all light appeared between his fingertips. It was steadily growing until it became the size of a troll's head. Then everyone moaned under their gags. Thin silver threads emerged from their bodies, and as they left them, the vessels became stiff and cold. The threads wrapped around the sphere until it engulfed them. Andariath forced the sphere into his body and a single gasp escaped his lips when it entered.

"Ah… one can never get used to this," he said with a wicked smile on his lip. Tiny sparks glistened in his eyeholes, which then formed into a new pair of eyes with ghastly violet circles around the irises. Andariath blinked and looked to both sides. Then he grabbed the body lying at his feet and made its empty face turn to the poor paralyzed man aloof.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, calm, smiling.

A single, silent tear rolled down from Calcelmo's eye before it hit the cold ground.

No words can justify my super long absence. I know it and I apologize to all of you who have been waiting for another chapter. It has been… wow. A year and a half since the last update. Meanwhile I had the worst work experience ever, followed by the best, I had a surgery to my right hand and couldn't type for a few months, I was sick for two months straight, I went to see a psychotherapist and about five other doctors, and now I'm looking for a job again. Not that I want to make excuses. But a lot happened, good and bad. Even so, I am feeling so much better than before. A lot of thing sorted themselves out somehow, so now it's just the job hunt. Hopefully it's coming to a conclusion.

This chapter took me very long to write. I have been practicing a lot, reading one book after another, writing, writing and writing again. Truth be told, I feel ashamed for the touchy comments I addressed at you guys for not sending me reviews. I think Strike leaves a lot to be desired, and feeling a bit upset about it, I decided to put it aside and give my attention to Clouds of the Past – which I basically scratched, rewrote and started publishing as a new work under the name The Name Lost in Time. I think I've managed to polish my style a lot while working on it, so now I'm giving Strike another shot. Unfortunately, I don't have time to rewrite and polish the whole series because of its length, but I will do my best to make the new chapters as good as I can. That said, I can't guarantee how often I will publish a new chapter. I'm still aiming to finish Strike, but somehow the story of Yrith has become my favorite and it helps me relax. Probably because there is depth to the characters which Strike is clearly lacking.

As for the chapter… just one note – no, I haven't forgotten about Brynjolf. I wasn't sure whether including the "love triangle" would be good for the story, but somehow the characters made me do it. Those two Nords are awfully uncompromising.

Pietersielie: Thank you, thank you, thank you! That was a very good point and I added a summary so you guys wouldn't have to reread the previous chapters. Hope it helps.

Twillin: Your wish is my command! And yes, I like Master Talwen a lot. Even if she's still a very high elf, y'know. :)

That's it for this chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read, faved, followed or reviewed my story.

And, as always, thanks to my loyal Tildemancer (formerly known as dart0808) for the beta!

Mirwen