It was just after midnight when the small boat landed on the muddy shores of Goldenglow Estate. Clouds obscured the twin moons that night, casting the entire island into darkness. The only light came from the flickering torches of the mercenary guards posted around the estate, their flames barely holding off the encroaching shadows. No one noticed one more shadow creep across the north bank of the island and into the sewer grate there.
Once out of the danger of open ground and into the relative safety of the sewers, the cloaked figure lowered his hood, surveying his surroundings. Vex, his predecessor, had been right. After her failed infiltration of the island, the guards had been paying more attention to the tunnels under the estate house. Torchlight shone dimly from down the way. Unless rats and their larger cousins, skeevers, suddenly learned how to harness fire, there were people down here.
This certainly complicated things. He stroked at his whiskers pensively. Vex had said there would only be traps. Traps he could deal with. Cut the right cord here, disarm a trigger there, traps were easy. But armed guards that knew he was coming were another story entirely. His tail twitched. Already this was looking to be a long night.
Silently, the lone infiltrator crept, staying within the protective embrace of the darkness. He followed the tunnel to a junction; the source of the light. There, beside a small fire, sat two guards. One dozed lazily in his chair. The other seemed to be fighting the same urge, but still managed to scan down the opposing corridors while stirring the pot bubbling over the fire. With a smirk, the shadow drew the bow strapped to his back. Made from moonstone and quicksilver, at first glance it might appear to be Elven craftsmanship. In fact it was an original creation smithed in a forge not a stone's throw from his own home. Etched into the weapon's side was the word Kest; a word of power from an ancient tongue that only the most daring and powerful of mortals dared speak.
As he knocked an arrow the bow responded, giving off a small pulse of energy. The air around him felt charged and began to smell of ozone. The fur of his mane stood on end. He pulled back the bowstring. His breathing slowed. His aim steadied. Time seemed to slow down. All that could be heard was the beating of his own heart.
Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump.
His eyes narrowed, focusing on his target.
Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump.
Almost there. The guard just had to look the other way…
Ba-Bump. Ba-Bump. Ba- Twang!
A miniature bolt of lightning streaked into the junction, exploding against the cooking pot. Bubbling soup spilled all over, extinguishing the fire. The entire junction fell into smoke and darkness. Before either of the guards could react, a shadow passed silently through the junction, leaving the pair to argue about who spilled their dinner in the dark.
The cloaked infiltrator could not help but smile to himself as the voices of the confused guards faded down the tunnel. The other footpads back at the Thieves Guild had such little regard for an unproven upstart, plucked from the street by the deputy guild master, Bynjolf. Had any of them witnessed the scene in the junction they would be eating their words right about now.
After the guards in the junction, the silent one faced no more real opposition on the way to his goal. He disarmed a few tripwires clumsily set into doorways, hopped over a few bear traps hidden shoddily under some hay, and gutted a skeever or two that got to thinking it was bigger than it really was. Maybe he was wrong to worry about this job.
Eventually he reached the grate that Vex said would lead him back to the surface. This is where she had failed. Carefully, he climbed the rough, iron rungs up to the grate. It was an ancient, heavy thing, covered in slime and refuse. Now he could see how Vex had trouble with it. With all the filth covering it, there was no way to get a good grip. And if you did manage to get ahold of it, the thing must weigh as much as a mammoth. Before he could find a solution to his dilemma, an approaching voice jarred the shadow from his thoughts.
"Hold on, Yorrel! I need to go check on those two skeever brains down at the junction!" A thick, Nordic voice sounded from above.
Wasting no time, the shadow dropped down the ladder and scurried into the protection of the darkness. He cocked an ear, listening intently. There was the sound of metal striking metal, then a loud grunt followed by screeching. He must be using a prybar to open the grate from the other side.
"Hey! Tell those guys not to close this thing!" The Nord shouted to his companion. "It's a pain in the ass to open from the other side!"
Someone above shouted in agreement. Once he was satisfied, the Nord climbed down the ladder, passing inches from the shadows where the thief hid before making his way down the tunnel. Wasting no time, the thief erupted from the darkness, scrambling up the ladder. Once at the top he peeked out to survey his surroundings.
He was on another part of the island now. The place where he had landed his tiny craft lay somewhere north of here. The grate itself looked to have once been covered in a small thicket of trees and bushes. But after Vex's failed attempt at infiltration the guards had cut it all back. Now a few torches burned beside a chair. This must have been the Nord's post. Only a few yards away lay the shadow's goal.
The Goldenglow Estate house was a massive three story mansion that loomed over the island. It could be seen even from the docks of Riften, clear cross Lake Honrich. Normally there was a bridge that connected the nearby city with Goldenglow. But recently the mercenaries that now swarmed the island had barricaded it up. Even the Riften city guards weren't allowed access to the estate. This posed a problem for the local brewery that relied on Goldenglow's main export, honey, to make honeymead.
That's where the shadow and his friends at the Thieves Guild came in. While they may have a reputation as brigands and cutpurses, the Thieves Guild also dealt in information. And any information on why Goldenglow had stopped selling honey to the meadery would be very valuable to the brewery's owners. Hence Vex, and now the cloaked thief, were dispatched to find out anything they could. First step was paying a visit to Goldenglow's owner, Aringoth.
With the estate house only a few yards ahead, the silent infiltrator bolted from the sewer grate to the nearest wall. He scurried along, sticking to the darkness and always watching the movements of the nearby guards until he reached a side door. Gently he tried to open it. Locked. With deft hands, he produced a pick and a torque wrench from a pouch on his vest and went to work on the door lock. Within a minute he heard the satisfying click of the mechanism unlocking. With his tools stowed away he slid through the door.
This was a side entry. Ahead was a posh dining room. Fine rugs, brilliant tapestries, gilded candelabras; a competent thief could make a fortune off this room alone. The silent shadow resisted his base urges. There was no way he could safely complete his task and flee the island if his pockets were full of jingling loot. With great effort he tore his focus from the glittering prizes in the dining room.
Someone coughed out in the hall. Aringoth must have posted guards in the house after Vex's near capture. The thief crept slowly to the dining room door and peered cautiously into the hall. Against the wall, only a few feet away, leaned a guard. He was an ugly brute. Green from tip to tail, covered in scales and small horns, with a reptilian snout filled with sharp teeth; an Argonian. The lizard-folk of the Black Marsh were becoming a much more common sight here in harsh, cold lands of Skyrim. Though many of them would rather remain in the fetid swamps of their homeland, the Great War between the human Empire and elven Dominion and the more recent civil war in Skyrim had drawn many of the scale-backs out to seek their fortunes.
The shadow's tail was twitching again. Dispatching the Argonian could be a simple matter of drawing the Kest and putting a lightning laced arrow through his neck. But Brynjolf had specifically said to avoid bloodshed. The thief growled quietly to himself. While he could just wait for the guard to move from his post, the night wouldn't last forever. He would have to make the guard move. But how? There was too much light for the little trick he had pulled in the junction. But there may be another little trick he could pull.
Silently, he peered into the hall once more. After a quick survey of the area, the lone infiltrator found his target. He took an deep breath and steadied himself . A primal energy coursed through his veins. It surged and flowed through him, building in his lungs. He reared his head back as if to let loose a mighty roar. A whisper escaped his lips.
"Zul-Mey-Gut." The same language as the engraving on his bow.
From the broom cupboard under the stairs at the end of the hall shouted a voice.
"Hey! Cheese brains! Your mother was a gerbil and your father smelled of elderberries!"
"What in Oblivion?!" The Argonian sprinted down the hall towards the phantom voice.
Two more guards bounded down the stairs, looking for the source of the commotion. The trio gathered around the cupboard door and peered around.
"Did you say that?" A burly Nord wielding a battle axe asked the Argonian.
"No, I heard it come from over here." The Argonian replied.
"Don't you dare lie, scale-back!" The third guard said. "I know your kind. Liars and tricksters. Almost as bad as those milk-drinking Khajiit."
The thief shook his furry head and chuckled at the irony of the guard's statement. Seconds later one of the guards shoved the Argonian to which he replied with a hissing bite. They were too busy fighting to notice a shadow slink down the hall and up the stairs.
He was still laughing to himself when he reached the top of the stairs. But when he got there, the thief wished he hadn't been so mirthful. He nearly ran headlong into another guard standing on the second floor landing. This one wasn't as big and burly as the Nords. A simple robe hung loosely over the guard's slender body. As his eyes met the footpad's, the guard raised a long metal staff. A wizard. Before the thief could move or draw the Kest or utter a word, the wizard was on him. He prepared himself for the bolt of lightning, the burning of magical flame, the blast of freezing air. Instead, he received a sharp question.
"What are you laughing about, cat?" The wizard asked.
"The men, downstairs, they are fighting with the lizard." The words left the thief's mouth before he even knew he was speaking them.
"Damn them to Oblivion!" The wizard cried. "I told them to stop picking on the Argonian! You go keep an eye on Aringoth while I sort them out."
"With pleasure." The infiltrator purred as the wizard ran passed him down the stairs.
There were only two other doorways in the hallway. The one at the end led to another landing with stairs that led both up and down. The one in the middle was where Aringoth must be.
"Hello, Aringoth." The shadow growled from the doorway.
The old High Elf froze stock still in his chair. The spoon he'd been using to eat his stew clattered on the ground.
"I- I can call for the guards." Aringoth stammered.
"You can. But you won't." The shadow replied.
"Who sent you, Maven?" Aringoth's voice quivered as he asked. "Are you one of that thug, Brynjolf's dogs?"
"Brynjolf sent me. But I am by no means a dog." The thief growled.
Aringoth slowly turned in his seat. He seemed surprised to see the island's infiltrator for what he was. The shadow cocked a curious eyebrow.
"You have a funny accent for a Khajiit." The High Elf said. "I was expecting an Imperial."
"Where you were born and where you grew up are not always the same place." The Khajiit replied.
"This is true." Aringoth sighed. "If you're here to kill me, just get it over with."
"Hah!" The cat laughed. "We are the Thieves Guild, not the Dark Brotherhood. I came for conversation, not for bloodshed."
"Maven wants to know why I stopped supplying her with honey." Aringoth said, knowingly. The feline nodded. The High Elf continued. "I can't supply her with honey I don't own."
"Explain."
"I sold the estate! Okay? Someone came and made me an offer. They also heavily implied that if I didn't take it, my life would be forfeit!"
"Who?"
"I- I never got his name. Everything was handled through brokers and third parties." Aringoth sputtered. "They told me I could still live here and brought in the mercenaries."
"Where are the sale documents?" the shadow asked.
"There is a safe. In the basement." Aringoth reached into his pocket. "I don't know what you think you can learn from them. The buyer never revealed his name."
After a moment Aringoth fished a small key out of his pocket. He tossed it to the thief, who caught it in a clawed hand.
"That will be for us to decide." The Khajiit said. He turned to leave, but then something caught his eye.
Aringoth watched as the cat strode boldly into the room and grabbed something off the nearby shelf. It was a statuette of a queen bee made of solid gold. The Khajiit regarded it for a moment before stuffing it into the satchel at his waist. He then quietly left the room.
"You're making a bad choice, you know! Throwing your lot in with the Thieves Guild… They're cursed. All their luck dried up a long time ago." Aringoth called after the thief.
"Luck is what you make it, my friend." The Khajiit said wryly, tossing the key in the air and catching it as he strolled down the hall to the opposite stairwell.
Aringoth sighed as the feline left. After a moment, the wizard appeared in the door.
"Sir, you're safe! Did you see a Khajiit pass this way?" The wizard asked. "He infiltrated the compound and we fear he might be an agent of the Thieves Guild sent to kill you!"
The High Elf stared down into his now cold soup.
"I haven't seen anyone." He said, despondently. "Please have the cook bring me some more soup. And a new spoon."
The Khajiit footpad stalked gingerly through Glodenglow's basement. Old beehives and broken tools littered the floor. Light flickered from around an upcoming corner. It must be another guard post. Before the cat could take stock of the situation, the door at the top of the stairs behind him flew open. He clamored into the safety of the nearby darkness.
"Oi! Farrel!" A voice shouted down the stairs.
"Yeah?" Farrel replied.
"A Khajiit got onto the island! He was posing as a guard. You ain't seen him, have you?"
"Can't rightly say I have!" Farrel yelled back.
"Then get our ass up here. Teague wants us all to look for him!"
"Damn…" Farrel muttered. "Just started dinner too…"
The feline thief heard the screech of wooden chair legs on stone floor. Moments later a heavy-set man trudged passed his hiding spot and up the stairs. Once Farrel was gone and the basement door closed, the Khajiit crept from his hiding place. Around the corner, bathed in the light of a single flickering torch, sat a large, steel safe. Farrel's dinner lay on a small wooden table next to it. Salmon steak. The cat wrinkled his nose. Fish were disgusting.
He wasted no more time getting into the safe. Inside, among a few sacks of gold, laid a document pouch. Two squares of parchment fell out when he opened it. They detailed a transaction for the estate that was paid by an agent named Gulum-Ei. They also dictated that Aringoth have no more dealings with the owners of the meadery, or the Thieves Guild. Interesting, the Khajiit thought. Brynjolf and Maven, the meadery's owner, would very curious as to who this Gulum-Ei character was. After the documents and the gold were safe in the pockets of his vest, the cat made to leave. Then the cellar door burst open.
"I'm telling you, he could have snuck down here after I left! Besides, my dinner's going cold!" Farrel shouted as he huffed down the stairs.
The Khajiit dove behind the safe. Farrel gave out a cry as he rounded the corner.
"The safe! It's been cleaned out!" The large man ran over to open safe. "He's been in h-"
Before the man could finish his sentence, he found a large woven basket had been stuffed over his head. He was in such a struggle to remove it, he didn't notice the quiet, padded footsteps leave the cellar.
The cat ran headlong from the basement door to the nearest exit. There was one more thing to take care of and with the guards in such an uproar he might not be able to do it. Besides pumping Aringoth for information, the footpad had been dispatched to send a message. A message that involved making his way to the apiary on the south side of the island and burning some of the beehives there down. Quickly, he dashed through the halls of the manor, narrowly avoiding guards at every corner. After cutting through a library he exploded through a doorway- right into the main entrance hall where the wizard from earlier stood briefing a half-dozen heavily-armed mercenaries.
They all turned slowly towards him, confused by his sudden presence. After a long pause, the Khajiit smiled and gave a low, sweeping bow.
"My name is Sher Khan. I am the Dragonborn, Thane of Whiterun, and member of the Thieves Guild of Riften. It was a pleasure to meet you."
Before anyone could react to this brazen show of ego, the feline thief, Sher Khan, bolted for the nearby double doors. The mercenaries exchanged curious stares. No one knew what to make of the spectacle they had just witnessed. It was a moment before the wizard pulled himself together and shouted at the men.
"Don't just stand there you idiots! Go get him!"
Khan had torn halfway across the grounds before the mercenaries came pouring out of the manor. He snickered to himself. They would never catch him in time. The beehives were in sight. He clenched his right fist as he ran, drawing up his will. Powerful energies pulsed up his arm. With a snap of his fingers, Khan's entire right hand was sheathed in dancing, orange flames. While he was no wizard, he had mastered a couple of useful spells. A hard life had taught the Khajiit to never discount the learning of new skills.
As he approached the beehives, Khan drew his hand back, preparing to bathe the closest ones in fire. Before he could let loose the flames a bright blue bolt arced through the air, hitting him square in the back. All his muscles seized at once. He fell, paralyzed, to the muddy ground. For a moment Khan lay there, moaning softly. His muscles involuntarily twitched. A figure approached out of the corner of his eye.
The ground was so cold. And wet. And why was it vibrating? No, no, not vibrating. Pounding was more like it. A distant, repetitive thud. It was a familiar sound. One that he had heard in almost this same position some weeks before.
The figure stood over him now.
"Well met, Sher Khan of the Thieves Guild. I am Teague D'Montague. Graduate of the Wizard's College of Winterhold and Lieutenant of the Twin Moons mercenary band. It's going to be a pleasure to kill you." The wizard said.
Khan tried to say something, but found that his mouth didn't quite feel like cooperating with him. He only sputtered helplessly in the mud.
"What was that?" Teague teased. "Spouting more lies O' great Dragonborn? Trying to tell me you're the rightful High King of Skyrim?"
The mercenaries all burst into uproarious laughter. Khan managed a gurgle. More laughter. The thudding grew louder. How could they not feel it? The Khajiit struggled to gain control of his muscles. Painstakingly, he tried to form words with his mouth.
"I-i-it… I-it's…" Khan stammered in a hoarse whisper.
"Oh, come on now! He's really got something on his mind!" Teague exclaimed. "Farrel, give him a hand!"
The big man reached down and grabbed Khan by his mane, hoisting the Khajiit to his feet. Teague leaned in close to Khan's face.
"Well, kitty, kitty, kitty. What have we got to say for ourselves? We're all ears. Hm?"
Khan struggled to speak. His muscles refused to do as he told them. His mouth had decided it no longer wished to speak words and instead wanted blow bubbles with its own spittle. Damn that wizard and his lightning! The mercenaries all around him laughed and laughed. But Khan knew the danger they were in. He had to tell them before it was too late.
A thunderous roar pierced the sky. The beating of leathery wings exploded over the island. Distant voices screamed.
"Dragon!"
At the sound of the word Khan's limbs suddenly remembered their function. He gave a swift kick to Farrel's shin. The big man recoiled in pain, dropping the Khajiit. No one noticed. All eyes were pointed skyward.
"There!" A man pointed.
Beating its great wings, the dragon swooped below the clouds. A massive beast, its head was easily the size of a horse and filled with teeth the size of longswords. All tightly corded sinew over brown scales, it was a terrible sight to behold. It bellowed out an ear deafening roar before folding its wings and streaking right for the mercenaries The great monster was nearly upon them before the group realized what it was doing. Those who didn't throw themselves to the ground in anticipation were thrown there by the wind of dragon's wings as it pulled out of the nose dive right above their heads.
As soon as they were sure it had gone, everyone popped up. They all seemed fine. No worse for wear. Then, behind the rhythmic beating of giant wings they heard a muffled scream. All eyes were on the beast as it landed with a resounding crash on the roof of the manor house. Held tightly in its massive, dagger-toothed maw was a robed man.
"Teague." Farrel breathed.
The dragon flicked its head back, throwing Teague high into the air. The wizard screamed and flailed his arms as he fell right into the waiting jaws of the beast. With sickening crunch, Teague, graduate of the Wizard's College of Winterhold, lieutenant of the Twin Moons mercenary band, was no more. The dragon tilted its head back and undulated its throat like a bird as it swallowed the man. Everyone winced.
"It tried to warn him." Khan suddenly found his words.
"What do we do?" One of the mercenaries asked. "Do we stay and fight?"
Before anyone could answer, the dragon turned its attention back on the small group near the apiary. It drew a large breath.
"Everyone down!" Cried Khan.
"YOL!" The dragon shouted. A rolling gout of flame erupted from its jaws. The beast swept its head from side to side, catching the nearby trees and more than a few mercenaries alight.
Running, screaming balls of fire scattered under the burning boughs of the island's trees. Khan felt warmth to his side. The dragon's fire had ignited the beehives. They crackled and burned under the night sky. The dragon leapt from the roof and took wing once more.
"Yol!" It bellowed, setting alight a few archers that had been foolish enough to turn their bows on the beast.
"It has been fun, my new friends! But I must be leaving!" Khan called to the mercenaries as he clamored over the muddy ground to the nearest shore. Once he reached it, he dove headlong into the waters of Lake Honrich. The last any of the mercenaries saw of Sher Khan was as he swam for the mainland.
Rays of pink light had begun to streak through the gray skies over the eastern horizon as Lydia looked out over the shores of the lake. It had been hours since the roars of the dragon had awoken her. Both she and her hosts at the Merryfair farm had risen to witness the commotion. All night they could see the flames dancing over the island and hear the bellows of the beast.
She absentmindedly stroked Meeko's head. The dog gave a whine.
"I hope he's okay too, boy." She said.
The dragon had departed hours before. She could only surmise it had finished gorging itself on mercenaries and went back to its lair to get some rest. The Llaniths, the Dark Elven couple that owned the farm, had long ago abandoned the vigil on the lake shore. Behind her, across the road, Lydia heard them doing chores around their little stead.
Sometimes she thought it might be nice to do that. Give up her life of adventure to settle down and work a plot of land. It would surely be less exciting. No more hunting down bandits. No more delving into ancient dwarven ruins or doing battle with evil wizards. Certainly no more worrying whether the crazy Khajiit you had been assigned to protect would make it back from a dragon razed island alive. Lydia heaved a heavy sigh.
Meeko cocked an ear.
"What happened?" she asked the shaggy wolfhound.
The hound let out a small woof. Then he let loose a frenzy of barks before jumping up and tearing through the brush down the shore. Lydia stood up and took off after the dog. Probably saw a mudcrab or slaughterfish. Stupid mutt. She made it to the shore to see Khan, lying on his back, feebly trying to fend off the excited face-lickings of Meeko.
"Get him off of me." The Khajiit wheezed.
He was soaked, head to tail. Already the leather of his armor had begun to shrink from the cold waters of the lake.
Lydia pulled Meeko back by his collar.
"Did you swim all the way back?"
"Only half-way. A friendly mudcrab gave me a ride the rest of the way." Khan gave a sarcastic smile.
"I saw the dragon and thought…" Lydia started.
"The dragon's what saved me." Khan replied. "Though not intentionally. I'm fairly certain that had it known who I was and what I'd done to its friend in Whiterun, we'd be having a different conversation right now."
"Did you get what they asked for?"
The Khajiit reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a leather document pouch. Lydia took it and opened it. The parchment inside was only a little soggy around the edges and seemed no worse for wear.
"I suppose we should get these to your friend, Brynjolf?" Lydia asked. "He'll probably want you to get right on figuring out who this Gulum-Ei person is."
Khan sighed.
"But how about we get you out of that wet armor and warm you up first?" She suggested. "I'm sure he won't mind getting them a little late."
"Okay." Khan extended an arm.
Lydia pulled her Thane to his feet. He started shivering. In this state he was more akin to a drenched kitten pulled out of the rain than the dashing rogue she was used to seeing.
"I don't know how you Nords live here. Even this far south it's always so damned cold…" Khan muttered.
"Let's get you inside, by the fire. We don't want you to come down with the rattles." Lydia took Khan by the arm. "Tomorrow we'll head back to Riften and get these papers to Brynjolf."
"Yes. That sounds like a good plan." Khan replied with a weak smile. "Besides, he's probably going to be very angry. I was only supposed to torch a few beehives. He's never going to believe a dragon burned the entire estate to the ground."
The pair laughed as they crossed the road to the farmhouse, Meeko trotting at their heels. It was time for rest. Brynjolf and the agent Gulum-Ei could wait for another day.