Chase

While Crass was finally awakening from his evening in Riverwood, Ted and Fadril were moving rapidly to Windhelm. Ted's original plan had been to stay overnight in Whiterun, but Fadril, for an unknown reason, seemed intent on riding through the night.

With dawn's pale light, Windhelm and its ancient stone structures stood before them. A cold wind coming off of the nearby ocean added an undertone of salt and fish to the already present stench of burning pitch and icy coldness.

Ted pulled his cloak about him tighter. "I truly do not like this Fadril, something feels wrong."

Fadril nodded and pulled her hood down from around her face, her features dark in the early morning. "I wish Crass was here," she held up a finger to stop Ted from speaking, "not because I like him, but because his sword would be useful."

Ted smiled coyly to himself, "Oh, oh, of course. But he will be plenty busy I think." He began to set off on foot over the large stone bridge leading unto the main gateway of Windhelm. Fadril tossed a few septims to the nearby stable boy and signaled to quarter the horses in the empty stall, as she jumped to catch up with the elderly wizard.

"How much do you know about Windhelm, Fadril?" Ted questioned her. He had been doing so since she joined him and Crass as the third component to their group, seemingly testing her.

"Well," she paused for minute, trying to recollect her sparse knowledge of history, "I know this used be the main center for ruling Skyrim long ago. Thus why everything looks so old…like you." She smiled at Ted, placing her hand on his shoulder to show she was merely joking.

"Oh?" Ted laughed, his breath showing the in cold air as he and Fadril entered through the massive doors and passed Imperial Soldiers on guard.

Fadril sighed, "I'm sure there are many other things out there I could, and perhaps should, know about, but…"

A man shouted ahead of them. "Will someone please help?" He pleaded at the nearby crowds, his clothes mere rags and his hands and face filthy with grime.

Ted wandered over quickly, Fadril behind, rolling her eyes at the unneeded distraction from their task.

"Wizard, what are you doing?" She stood a distance from the beggar.

Ted placed his finger over his lips in the 'quiet' gesture and continued forward.

"Sir, what seems to be the matter?" He waited for the disheveled beggar to peer his way.

"I didn't do it! No one believes me!" He stared around him, wild-eyed.

"Do what?" Ted leaned closer, behind him, a soldier stood next to Fadril. He raised his voice so Ted could hear him, "He didn't murder his child and wife…apparently."

The soldier sneered at the beggar, Ted turned quickly, "Excuse me?"

"He was brought into questioning last week, but he is obviously insane…he said a Scamp or some other Daedra was to blame…he was dropped out here."

Fadril casually raised her eyebrow, sharing a quick stare with Ted. "Hmmm, obviously a bit off his rocker, eh?" Ted leaned away from the beggar and smoothed his robes. He gestured to Fadril, "Thank you for your help sir, let's go dear."

Fadril met up with him and they began talking as they made their way to the local general store.

"That man could have been our only lead, why did we simply le-"Ted raised his hand, cutting off her thought.

"We will return later, talking to him may only increase more interest in our presence."

Fadril sighed, "Aren't we being a bit paranoid wizard?"

"No. If daedra are involved, their powers to manipulate mortals is truly unknowable…the guard who spoke to us may be a mere puppet, meant to cast us off the trail."

"Well," Fadril lowered her voice, "I'll make sure to keep an eye out then."

Ted smiled and clapped her on the shoulder, "That's the spirit; paranoia does have its advantages you know!"

Crass was staring at the running water beneath the bridge at Riverwood when he heard the screaming. Coming from further down the trail and barely reaching his ears from behind the noise of the rushing current.

He placed a hand on his worn steel sword and went off on a jog down the path, stopping at a rock outcropping which obscured him from further ahead. He inhaled deeply, controlling his breathing and listening closely.

"You, dear, are coming with us." The voice was bubbly and oozing, like a tar pit in summer.

The plaintive whimpers of a woman could be heard.

Crass slightly unsheathed his sword, and stepped from behind the rock, hearing enough for him to act.

There was merely a man, in a dark hood, his eyes lost in the shadow.

"Hello, little one." His voice dripped.

Crass stared, confused as to how to respond and wondering if he should be confrontational or passive; his decision was made when he was grabbed from behind by a pair of strong hands.

"Don't move, runt." The Orc behind him was huge, burly with muscles rippling underneath his tunic and a pair of nasty axes at his sides.

Crass, turned from the brute to look at the shadowed figure, now walking his way.

"We know your little quest, for we know all." The figure breathed deeply. "Your companions in Whiterun are soon to have problems of their own as well."

Crass stiffened and held his breath. Was he bluffing?

The man seemed confident. Crass knew he couldn't face the both of them at once.

For one, who knew what the mysterious man had the capability of doing, and the Orc was simply too strong for one on one combat.

He would have to run.

Crass began to focus on his palm, warmth spreading. A small spurt of flame shot up into the Orcs chin, causing him to release Crass' arms and grab his now smoldering flesh.

He unsheathed his silver sword, throwing it end over end at the stranger. An unearthly hissing emerged and Crass pumped his legs faster, going off of the trail and dodging into the underbrush.

Leaves and branches scraped against his face, and he could hear the lumbering strides of the now very angry Orc behind him, clogging in faster.

He had no idea where the other one was, judging by his fear of the silver he was not normal, and may be able to follow him anywhere he goes and appear out of nowhere.

Don't think like that Crass, just don't. He chided himself as he scrabbled down a steep hillside and dodged the trunk of a recently cut tree.

He began to see the outbuildings surrounding the walled city of Whiterun, and the previously loud clomping of Orcish feet was receding into the distance.

He stopped to catch his breath, his face red and sweat beading down the back of his neck.

A nearby log became his location for sitting and taking a much needed breath. He counted to 15 in his head and waited for his racing pulse to slow.

That was a bit close.

Crass shook his head and began to plan his next moves. He would attempt to walk to Whiterun as calmly as he could, and in doing so do his best to attract little to no attention.

Once there he would need a new sword, and supplies…and maybe some extra goods since it looked like his journey went from being a normal, though long, trip….to a dangerous one.

Night fell on Windhelm with bone-chilling abruptness. Along with howling winds and penetrating flecks of snow, the city went from being somewhat hospitable, too dangerous.

Fadril was enjoying mead in the local inn, while Ted was upstairs reading. She preferred this method to information gathering. An inn was one of the best places to casually pick up information, usually without even really having to try that much.

People talked when they drank, and most people at an inn drank quite a bit.

She heard a door slam upstairs and the wizard descended quickly, a rough cloak lined with wolf fur thrown over his shoulders.

"Come," he gestured impatiently towards the door, "we have some additional work to do."

Fadril downed her drink and placed her own cloak, this of leather, on her shoulders and followed Ted out into the screaming winds.

"What is the plan?" She said, leaning against Ted so as to not have her voice echo in the stone alleys.

"We are going back to attempt to find that beggar, and hopefully get some more answers about what is happening in this city."

He began walking briskly; his demeanor altered…his joviality diminished somehow.

Fadril frowned and followed him along a narrow staircase, town residents quickly scampering the opposite direction to reach the welcoming glow of the inn.

They came upon the central square where the man was located earlier that day. To find nothing but snow, and more biting wind.

"Damn." Fadril sighed, "Where to now?"

Ted grunted, "I don't know…"

They stood in the darkness for a moment, feeling the rushing of the wind about them and waiting patiently for some sign, any sign really, to appear.

A gruff voice behind them startled Fadril and caused Ted to whirl around, his cloak disturbing the collected snow upon the ground.

"Looking for that man again, hmm?"

It was the guard, covered in leather and fur armor and grimacing at the duo.

"You two did indeed make me suspicious, so I had the bugger locked up. He is rotting in a cell this very moment."

He seemed quite pleased with himself at that pronouncement, his eyes glowing in the pale firelight from a torch he carried.

"Oh," Ted casually remarked, putting on a confident smile, "May we see him?"

The guard laughed, a deep guttural sound, a shook his head in the negative. "No."

Fadril began to walk closer, placing her hand reassuringly on the small dagger at her hip.

"Stop right there little one." His voice had altered, diving octaves lower. "You two do not know that which you are interfering with."

Ted turned towards Fadril and smiled, "I told you there could be enemies at any turn. And you said I was paranoid."

Fadril rolled her eyes and drew her gaze to the guard, still looking like an average man, except for the now shining, pitch-black eyes that reflected the still burning torch.

"We will not allow another Oblivion crisis to occur." Ted gripped his staff tightly, the tip beginning to glow a light blue.

The guard smiled.

Fadril reached behind her and grabbed her bow, string taut, and quickly retrieved an arrow from the quiver. Her breath was coming faster now, more excited at the prospect of a battle.

The blow, if it can be called that, came quickly. A darkness enveloped them, surrounding both Ted and Fadril on all sides. Yet they still stood solidly, instead of snow covered cobblestones an inky blackness provided their floor.

The solider laughed to himself, "No one can see us know."

Ted shrugged and yelled over to Fadril, "We are still in Whiterun, just separate. He has boxed us off, so no one can see what is occurring…it appears as if no one else is there to outsiders."

Fadril nodded, "Seems like a nifty trick."

A moment later a gleaming black sword of obsidian was removed from its sheath by the quickly transforming guard. Small horns appeared, followed by a flowing black robe. His eyes began to glow with an inner fire and his now scaled hands began to form a fireball.

"Dremora!" The wizard leaped at Fadril and bowled her over, causing the drawn arrow to fly off into the blackness of the void in which they stood and the singing smell of fireball left in the air after the dremora's opening strike sailed over their heads.

Fadril quickly got up, pulling her companion to his feet. "How do we get out of here old man?"

Ted grimaced, "We need to eliminate…that." He gestured to the patiently waiting dremora.

"Oh," Fadril laughed, "this should be fun then."