Hello all. This piece is a pet project of mine that I wanted some feedback on. I have been trying to rewrite the Thieve's Guild questline for Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim as a narrative. As a note, I do not own Skyrim or any part of that, I'm just a fan trying to embellish on a story that I really loved. We are jumping in near the middle of the questline. I hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback :)
Thank you!
The poison's effect was instantaneous. A quick smirk of pride passed over Karliah's face for a fleeting moment, until the Bosmer woman stiffened and fell with a sickening thud.
"What a pitiful excuse for a thief."
Mercer's voice rose from the opposite side of the room. Karliah peered out from the shadows to get a better look. Mercer stood at the entrance, near his fallen companion. He hadn't yet noticed Karliah watching him. The gravelly sound of his voice echoed incoherently. He crouched for a moment beside his companion.
"I'll deal with you later…"
Karliah caught those words, and they sent chills down her spine. He rose abruptly, turning to the room. She saw his face clearly now, it was older, and more creased than she remembered, but most certainly him. He took a few steps toward the stairs before stopping and turning his gray eyes toward her. A feral grin touched his face, deepening the creases on his face. Their eyes met.
"Karliah."
He spat out her eyes narrowed and she stepped from the shadows, daggers in hand.
"Mercer."
"It is good to know you're still alive, Karliah…I would be remiss to learn that someone else had the pleasure of killing you."
He spoke deliberately, letting the venom drip from every syllable. It sent chills down her spine, but she kept her face calm. She took a few apprehensive steps toward him, her gaze fixed on his every movement. He watched her in return with darkened eyes. She stood only a few feet from him now. Her heart raced. She hesitated, letting her gaze drift from him for a moment.
Mercer moved faster than should have been possible. She barely had time to dodge his attack, but her feet carried her effortlessly away from his blades. She turned to face him, poised to block his onslaught. He absently flipped his dagger a few times, as he stalked toward her.
"How long has it been, Karliah? Ten years? Twenty?"
"Twenty-five."
"That's right. Twenty-five years. Why has it taken so long, Karliah? I murdered your lover in cold blood, don't you remember? Are you so inept that it took you twenty-five years to come up with a plan?"
The corner of her mouth twitched in rage. Her fury threatened to unleash on the Breton man, but she let the wave of anger pass, her cold gaze never faltering.
"You would have had a better chance at revenge if you had acted sooner rather than later. The Guild is mine now. No one even remembers you, save for what I've told them. They would cut you down before you could even blink."
They circled each other. Mercer's face lit up in feral glee, and he pounced. He darted toward her, feigning left and right, always a step ahead of her blade. He was a blur of shadow and steel. She nearly lost sight of him. Nearly.
Their blades clattered together raucously, the sharp metallic ring echoing off the wall. He was strong. He had always been significantly stronger than her, but she had always been faster. He had unleashed all of his strength into the charge, forcing her to give ground. They were mere inches apart now. She saw the malicious glint in his eye. Her strength was beginning to fail her, she knew it. She spun under both of his blades, letting the steel of her daggers bear the force of his attack. He knew the move, and matched her, step for step. He caught the hilt of one of her daggers, and with a small movement, pried it from her hand. The weapon clattered to the floor and harmlessly out of her reach. He stepped to intercept her, tripping her feet. He reached out to grab her hand, pulling her back toward him. Fear shone briefly in her eyes as he leveled his blade on her throat. Everything went still.
"I could kill you now."
She could feel his breath as he spoke. His face was calm and emotionless, but she could she the pleasure in his eyes. She fought to hide the fear that shook her, and kept her mouth sealed tight.
"It would be fitting, I suppose. You and Gallus finally reunited after all these years. You would even share a tomb."
His tone was wistful as he traced the line of her jaw, her neck, with the tip of his blade.
"But you don't deserve that. You don't deserve a quick death."
His tone became cold and ruthless. He withdrew the dagger from her throat, much to her relief.
"You all but ruined our connections to our last loyal client.. Your death will be slow, and painful."
His eyes darkened under a furrowed brow.
The pain was like fire, intense and burning. It spread through her abdomen before she could process what had happened. He released her hand, and shoved her against the wall. His dagger was buried, hilt-deep in her gut.
He pulled the blade back, wiping it clean on her sleeve. She stood frozen in shock, leaning heavily against the wall. The pain spread with each beat of her heart. She wanted to scream, but refused to give him that satisfaction. She felt herself slide, helplessly down the wall. Desperately she tore the hood from her armor. Her hands shook as she folded the cloth and pressed it to the wound, wincing at the touch. She forced herself to breathe, focusing on keeping the pressure steady.
Mercer took the opportunity to retreat back to his companion. He twined his hand in the straps at the front of her armor, and wrenched her up. He was quiet for an uncomfortable length of time, glaring daggers at the girl. In a sudden flutter of motion, he released her armor. She fell, rigid against the stones between Mercer and Karliah, another thud resounding in the chamber. The look on his face was, strangely amused, and he crouched beside her once more. His face contorted as he looked at the elf. Her eyes darted from Karliah to him, processing this development. Very slowly, Mercer reached to pull the arrow fragment from her shoulder. He examined the arrowhead for an eternity before he spoke again.
"Well. Aren't you lucky? A few inches to the left and the poison would have stopped your heart. As it stands, you're merely paralyzed...but still conscious. How...Interesting."
A wicked smile began to touch his lips.
"It's really quite a shame that such a high quality poison had to be wasted on you. Of course now, with Karliah here on her way to Evergloam, I'm left with a predicament."
With his dagger, he traced the frozen features of the wood elf's face, his own hidden in shadow as he spoke.
"You. The footpad who managed to bring us to this rendezvous. You are far to clever for your own good, you know. You could have been invaluable to me, but now you know my little...secret. If that secret were to fall on...the wrong ears...well that would be the end of my legacy now, wouldn't it? And I can't have that."
His tone began to take on a darker, more menacing tone. He pressed the dagger harder against her skin.
"The way I see it, there are two options."
His voice dropped into a lower tone, and Karliah could no longer hear it. She didn't like the way he hovered over the girl.
"I think...that I prefer option 2, less complicated."
The Bosmer's eyes grew wide. He leaned forward, overshadowing her as he ripped the hood from her armor and used it to cover her eyes and mouth. Karliah watched through half closed eyes as she muttered a healing spell, channeling the magic through the hand that held the cloth in place. Mercer moved toward her again.
"I trust you have the key to this sanctum on you? Ah here it is."
He pulled the key from its place on her belt and returned to his companion. With seemingly minimal effort, he lifted the woman and disappeared out the door. The clicking sound of the tumblers falling into place resounded in the sanctum. Mercer's menacing laughter could be heard as a faint echo as he ascended back to the surface.
Karliah breathed deeply. She removed the cloth from her wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the job wasn't finished yet. She spoke the words of another healing spell, and felt the familiar surge of magic through her body. It was always an unsettling feeling, muscle and tissue being knitted back together. She clenched her jaw as the pain began to subside. Finally, she released the spell and probed the area around the wound for any tender spots. Satisfied with her work, she rose, shakily to her feet and dusted off her armor before retrieving her discarded daggers.
Her gaze turned to the door Mercer had left from. She had a good idea where he was planning to go, but she knew she couldn't face him alone again. She turned toward the stairs. A secret passage was hidden at the top of the Sanctum. She racked her mind for ideas. She had no idea how she would convince the rest of the Guild that she was innocent. She grabbed the pack that held a few of Gallus's belongings that she'd been able to scavenge. She disappeared into the darkness.
Karliah arrived, breathless and road weary, at the gates of Riften. She had been riding for nearly three days now. After nearly falling from her horse, she stumbled into the city. Dusk was settling around her and deep shadows swallowed more of the city with each passing minute. A smile would have graced her face but for the dread that gnawed at her stomach. She kept her head low, hoping no one would notice her as she ducked down the stairway to the lower city. Her feet ghosted over the planks silently carrying her along the narrow pathway.
Hesitation paused her hand on the cold iron latch of the door to the Ratway. Why was she doing this? She remembered Mercer's malicious grin as he decided what to do with the Bosmer. She winced at the thought of what horrors she could be enduring and forced herself to push open the door. The Ratway was largely empty, save for a scattering of skeevers. Karliah easily swept through the tunnels, until finally, she reached it. The door was awash in the dim light of a lone lantern. She placed her open palm on the worn wood of the door. Fear threatened to turn her, but she fought it down; swallowing hard, she pushed the door open.
"Where do you think you're going?"
She froze, her eyes darting over the shadows, searching for the speaker. No one. The sound came floating from the other side of the room.
"It's been five days Delvin!"
"Four days."
"We've had no word. No one's seen or heard from them."
"Aye. That doesn't mean that something's happened to them, Bryn!"
There was an uncomfortable silence. Karliah involuntarily held her breath as she began to walk toward the voices. She kept close to the wall, hiding herself in the shadows wherever she could.
"I'm going to look for them."
The dull thud of metal hitting wood assaulted her ears along with the rough scrape of wood on stone. The cacophony resounded through the damp room, giving her pause.
"Look for her you mean. You don't give two septims about Mercer, but I'd wager you'd risk your damn life for that girl."
"Shove off, Delvin. She's just an apprentice."
"Aye, your apprentice."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Come on, Bryn. The whole Guild knows…"
Karliah emerged from the shadows, and stood before the Ragged Flagon's sign. Her breath was still ragged and she felt her nerves threatening to get the better of her. She steeled herself and began to walk into the tavern. A large man rose from a hidden seat behind the brazier that lit the sign. He stepped in front of her blocking her path.
"Not so fast there, elf. What's your business here?"
"My business is my own."
"Not good enough, footpad. No one enters without Brynjolf's permission."
Her courage dwindled away as the man glared her down.
"Bryn! You best come look at this."
"What is it Dirge?"
Karliah tensed when she heard the approaching footsteps. She vaguely remembered Brynjolf. The last time she had seen him was the last time she had been in the Guild, before Gallus's murder. Brynjolf was Gallus's own apprentice, and a natural thief, if she remembered correctly.
She hoped he wouldn't recognize her.
"Have they ret…"
The man that rounded the corner was a far cry from the scrawny boy of ten that she remembered, but it was most definitely him. She kept her head low upon briefly glimpsing the disappointment in his eyes.
"Who's this, Dirge?"
"Don't know, Boss. She wouldn't…"
Brynjolf stepped closer, between her and Dirge. She felt her heart race as the fear began to claw to the surface again. She felt his eyes boring into her, and longed to hide beneath her hood.
"What's your name, Lass?"
At her silence, he took another step forward, trying to get a glimpse of her face. Her heart dropped when she heard the sharp inhale and the abrupt backstep.
"Murderer."
His voice was deathly quiet. She heard the harried footsteps of his companions as they moved toward her. Every fiber of her being demanded that she fight them, but she remained still and silent, allowing them to disarm her. The large man, Dirge, seized her arms and shoved her into the Flagon.
"Dirge, sit her here. Del, find something to restrain her with."
"Boss."
Dirge sat her down hard. It took all her reserve to keep her mouth shut. Her mind reeled, demanding she fight back, resist, anything. But her determination to make them listen overpowered her instinct and her mouth remained sealed.
"Restraints, Bryn?"
She dared a quick glance at the third man, recognizing him almost immediately. Old Delvin Mallory hadn't changed much in the last 25 years. He still had that melancholic look about him that drastically contrasted his generally amiable demeanor. She gave him a fleeting smile of gratitude, before checking her gaze.
"She's dangerous Del."
"She's unarmed at present, Bryn. An' she came here. Alone."
"She's the one responsible for Gallus…"
"We ought to at least give her the chance to speak for herself."
She could have hugged Delvin, but all she could manage was a small half whispered 'thank you.' Brynjolf glared at her with a ferocious intensity, but motioned for Dirge to release her.
"Watch the door, Dirge."
Dirge reluctantly retreated into the shadows near the entrance, leaving Karliah alone with Delvin and Brynjolf. A heavy silence rested over the trio of thieves. Karliah reluctantly lifted her gaze to the two men before her. Her voice caught in her throat.
"Why?"
Brynjolf was the first to break the silence. She cringed at the venom that dripped from the word. His eyes were locked on her, a perfect reflection of all the malice and hatred that Mercer had doubtless instilled in him. She steadied herself with a few deep breaths, and lifted her eyes to meet his.
"I have information you need."
Skepticism briefly flashed across his face as he stalked toward her, but it quickly died. He stopped only feet from her.
"What kind of information?"
Delvin spoke up, cutting Brynjolf off, as he stepped closer, around the younger man. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat. She felt mildly reassured by his presence.
"Information about…"
"Why did you murder him?"
Brynjolf's voice broke as he painstakingly spoke the words. She turned her gaze to him. The man was visibly shaken, she could see it on his face. Torn between his rage and his better judgment, she presumed. She managed to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, and compose herself enough to answer.
"I didn't."
His anger flared again, his darkened eyes flicked to hers.
"Liar. Mercer told everyone how you lured Gallus away from the Guild and killed him in cold blood."
"Mercer told you lies."
"Bryn…"
"What would he gain from lying about that?"
"What indeed?"
Her voice faded into silence, letting her icy gaze drift around the flagon and over the two men, finally focusing on Brynjolf. She respected him for his commitment, and pitied his ignorance. She glanced to Delvin, who sat beside her still. His face, for once was unreadable. She was alone.
"What I have to tell you will be difficult for you to accept, Brynjolf, but hear me out."
He looked to Delvin; a quick, subtle glance, then reluctantly nodded and sank into another chair.
"Fine, Lass, I will hear you."
"I did not murder Gallus."
A weak smile touched the corner of her mouth as she prepared herself.
"Gallus and I… were lovers. I was with him as he lay dying, 25 years ago. During which time he gave me this."
She slowly reached into her pack and pulled out a leatherbound journal. The leather was old, and well worn. She reluctantly handed it to Brynjolf.
"It is encrypted in the Falmer tongue, but in the last 25 years I have found someone to translate it. The contents are...disturbing."
Brynjolf hesitantly flipped through the book. His expression morphed slowly from skepticism to disbelief. He read through the translated journal with increasing interest.
"What's it say Bryn?"
Brynjolf froze, his eyes wide. He slowly looked toward Karliah, then his gaze shifted to Delvin.
"It says...Gallus had noticed...tendencies in Mercer's behavior '...indicative of a very troubled mind…' He feared that '..given the opportunity...Mercer may succumb to his malicious inclinations…'"
Delvin rose quickly, the apprehension plainly written on his face, and moved toward Brynjolf and the book. They both read and re-read the passages of the journal. They both appeared equally dumbstruck by the new information. A look passed between them as the knowledge settled, before they simultaneously looked to her. Brynjolf spoke first.
"We'll have to confirm this...information."
His demeanor had drastically shifted; where rage and anger had been, she thought she could now see understanding and maybe even acceptance. She was grateful for his open-mindedness at least.
"Aye, in the meantime, you should rest."
She exhaled in relief, relaxing for a moment. They began to walk out of the Flagon, deeper into the Ratway. She recalled the glint in Mercer's eye; the way he had looked at the Bosmer woman. She rose with a start, knocking the chair back a few inches.
"Wait."
Her voice was met only with silence. They had disappeared into the Cistern before she could call them back. She had to tell them about the Sanctum. Against her better judgement, she began to walk toward the secret Cistern entrance. She was only a few feet from the entrance when Dirge grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place. She froze, not sure what reaction to expect.
"Boss said to keep you here. Best take yourself a seat."
His grip tightened, strongly suggesting she heed his words. Reluctantly she sat at the table nearest the tunnel. She was offered food and drink, but declined, not letting her focus drop. An eternity passed before she heard the telltale creak of the door opening. The footsteps that followed were quick and light, taking no time at all to reach the Flagon. Delvin was the one who emerged into the tavern, alone. A strained look was poorly concealed on his face as he approached her.
"Brynjolf wants to see you."
Wordlessly, she followed Delvin further in. They came to the Cistern door, and her heart leapt to her throat. She hadn't set foot in this place in 25 years. Delvin caught her mixed expression of fear and excitement.
"Inside."
He gestured with his hand as he pushed the door open. She stepped through, her breath caught in her throat. The Cistern was exactly as she had remembered it, fallen into disrepair in places, but still the same. It was home.
Delvin breezed past her, gesturing fervently for her to follow. He led her across the room to the Vault. She glimpsed the shadowed forms of the other thieves in the alcoves around the room. The air was thick with tension. She felt their eyes follow her across the room. Delvin reached the massive Vault door first, pushing it open, just enough for the two of them to slip through.
Inside, shadows danced off the walls, moved by the flames of a large brazier. The light was eerie, but enough to see. They stood together, the four of them in the empty Vault. All around them, chests and strongboxes sat open, weapon racks stood empty.
"Alright, lass. It is plain to me that you are telling the truth about all this."
Brynjolf addressed her with a formality that was clearly unfamiliar. His voice sounded detached, and cold. She met his eyes with cool grace, and nodded her acceptance. His gaze drifted to the others; Delvin to her right, who nodded his agreement and the fair haired woman to her left.
"Vex, do you agree?"
"Hard not to when we're standing in an empty room that's supposed to be filled to the brim."
Her tone was bitter, and her eyes, sharp as daggers.
"Aye. We can't let the rest of the Guild know how much is gone."
"It's ALL gone Bryn! How do we hide that?"
Vex fought to keep her voice quiet, as she paced the room, furiously.
"There's only one way, Vex."
Brynjolf took a step toward her, and deftly grabbed her wrists. He fixed her with an pointed stare. She wrenched her hands away, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"And what's that Bryn?"
"No one speaks of this... development. We are the only ones that need to know. Mercer needs to pay for this."
"And how do you propose we make him do that? We don't even know where he his! It's been four days since anyone's seen him."
His eyes grew dark. His gaze passed over the three of them, resting on Karliah.
"Do you have any idea where he's gone?"
He took a few steps toward her. She had to tell him now. They needed to know. She managed a small nod as she found her voice again.
"Well? Where's he gone?"
Delvin's voice was calming, if only for a moment, but the intensity of his question was a weight being dropped on her.
"He's gone to a Dwemer ruin called Irkngthand. He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer…"
"The Eyes?!"
"That was Gallus's…"
"That's one of the last great Heists in Skyrim!"
"We can't let him..."
All of them spoke at once. Karliah understood their concerns, but there was more at stake here than any of them knew. She sighed heavily, knowing that she would have to divulge the true enormity of Mercer's crime. She raised her voice.
"Brynjolf."
The three of them turned their attention back to her. Brynjolf met her gaze.
"Yes, Lass?"
"There's something else you should know."
She felt for him, she really did. On top of all this information...she couldn't imagine...no she could imagine what it would feel like. All the grief and betrayal and anger she felt when Mercer took Gallus from her came flooding back into her mind. It was all she could do to keep her composure.
"Your apprentice…"
"Speak up, Lass."
She sighed heavily, meeting his gaze, hoping she was conveying sorrow.
"Your apprentice."
His face darkened. He braced himself for her answer.
"Is she alive?"
"She was when I last saw her. But that was four days ago..."
Relief turned to confusion and in two swift steps, he was towering over her, only inches away. The room had grown still, all attention on their exchange.
"What do you mean?"
He spoke slowly, deliberately, trying to control the flurry of emotions that threatened to reveal themselves. She recognized the desperation in his eyes.
"The last time I saw her, in Snow Veil Sanctum, she was alive, but... I...I'm sorry... The paralytic poison was meant for Mercer, but she moved in front of him after the arrow had left my bow..."
His face was still shrouded in confusion as he tried to work out what happened. Karliah dreaded having to bring them this news, but they all needed to know.
"Mercer...the look he gave me, I was prepared for that. He wanted me dead."
She revealed the scar from his attack. Their expressions grew significantly more anxious.
"The way he looked at her...I've never seen him look that way...it went well beyond hatred, or malice...He...He's using her as...insurance. He doesn't want you following him. He won't be coming back here most likely. And…"
"Once he has the Eyes…"
"Brynjolf...he murdered Gallus. In cold blood...
The realization of what would happen fell on him. The silence that followed was deafening. Brynjolf stood frozen, processing the information. The realization dawned on Delvin and Vex's faces as well. Their expressions were both horror and sorrow. Karliah held Brynjolf's gaze, watching the realization turn to rage in his eyes.
"Bryn…"
He heard their words but couldn't bring himself to acknowledge them. He was numb. He should have seen. Mercer was abnormally cruel to her, had been since the day she had stood before him. He hadn't seen, and now…
"BRYN!"
Delvin's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, trying to get some kind of response. He was in command now. He had to decide what they would do. His heart was pounding heavily, drowning out the other sounds. He should never have let her go…
"Brynjolf. Mercer has betrayed the Guild, relinquishing all claims he has to the title and position of Guild Master. It's up to you how we handle this."
Karliah's words struck him like arrows. She was right, he could decide…
"Mercer must die."
His voice was cold, cracking with rage. He saw the shock in their faces, all except Karliah. Of course she would understand.
"Bryn, don't do anything rash…"
He met Vex's reaction with a steely glare, as cold as ice. He felt his body tense at her objections.
"Brynjolf. Think about this. Mercer has led us for twenty-five…"
"Years. I know Delvin. He also put himself in power. Stole from all of us. Nearly destroyed the Guild."
"He should be brought back alive. We…"
Delvin laid his hand on Brynjolf's shoulder, pulling him away from the others. The older thief interrupted him before he could speak.
"We aren't the Dark Brotherhood, Brynjolf, remember? Or have your feelings for her clouded your mind?"
"This is about more than her Del."
"We don't solve our problems with the blade. If you do this..."
"I know, Delvin. You know I wouldn't decide to do this without a substantial reason."
"Reasons aside. You know the consequences if you do this."
Delvin locked eyes with Brynjolf, steel met steel, and neither budged. Delvin's face darkened. Brynjolf pushed passed the older man, and approached Karliah alone.
"It won't be an easy thing, fighting him. He's more powerful than you know. I barely escaped my last duel with him."
"I've sparred with him ever since he took over my training after Gallus...I know how he fights."
His fists clenched instinctively as his patience threatened to break. He turned back to Delvin and Vex, the shadow on his face lifting for a moment. They remained silent, watching him through narrowed eyes. This was the end of their friendship, he knew. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of what to say. Karliah spoke up from behind him.
"Mercer has a four day lead on us. We need to leave as soon as possible to reach him with any chance of claiming the Eyes and…"
"We'd best get going then."
Brynjolf pulled his hood up and ducked out of the vault, following Karliah to the exit. He became painfully aware of the many eyes watching him leave, but paid them no mind. Karliah climbed the ladder first, disappearing into the dark of the tunnels. He grasped the ladder rung with one hand and paused. The sound of footsteps approaching caught his ear and he tossed a glance over his shoulder. Delvin stood a few feet away, his face unreadable, for once.
"You can't talk me out of this Del."
Delvin took a step toward him. Brynjolf braced for a lecture. Instead, he felt the weight of Delvin's hand on his shoulder. He cautiously met Delvin's gaze.
"Aye, I know that. Bring her back safe. Understood?"
A knot formed in Brynjolf's throat, preventing him from responding. He managed a slight nod before backing away, and disappearing into the tunnels.
"Brynjolf…"
Karliah's voice was nearly drowned out by the wind as they rode north. They hadn't spoken since leaving the Guild. His eyes were locked on the northern horizon. She knew the pain he felt, at least she thought she did.
"The horses need a break."
He turned an empty gaze in her direction and nodded absently, allowing his horse to slow to a trot. She guided her horse to ride abreast with his. Her eyes flashed briefly as her gaze darted to him, and then to the land around them. The forests of the Rift were dropping away to be replaced with the hot springs of Eastmarch. She inhaled deeply, the unseasonably warm air comforting her.
"Gallus would be proud of you…"
"I doubt that."
A bitter laugh escaped his mouth, his breath turning into a fine mist as it met the air.
"He would be. You are the leader he always wanted you to be. "
"I'm no leader, Lass. If I were, the whole Guild would be behind us."
He threw his arm back, despondently gesturing to the empty air. She let her gaze drift behind them, and back. He fixed his gaze north again. She wanted to give him some comfort, but in her years of solitude, she had forgotten how. They rode in silence, brooding over their situation.
"The guild is still alive because of you. I was expecting it to be in ruins…"
"That wasn't me. Aris did that."
His statement was met with silence. Tearing his gaze from the horizon, he turned it to her.
"Aris...that's my apprentice's name. She is the one who got the Guild back on its feet. It was in ruins."
"You are her mentor, aren't you. She couldn't have done it without you..."
Karliah's voice drifted into silence before he responded more quietly.
"She could have. I didn't need to train her. She has a knack for this. She didn't need me."
Brynjolf turned his gaze north again, tracing out the line of the road as it faded past his sight. Karliah carefully rested her hand on his arm, drawing his gaze back to her.
"She needs you now."
His breath exploded through pursed lips. Karliah kept her eyes on him, watching the smallest amount of softness creep into his expression. The ghost of a smile lifted the corner of his mouth. Both were only fleeting, replaced with a determination she recognized all too well. She followed his gaze to the mountains that rose to the northwest.
"Tell me about her."
Karliah broke the silence again as they entered the hot springs of Eastmarch. Their pace had slowed once more to let the horses rest and the rode abreast down the twining cobbled road. He replied without looking away from the road.
"What do you want to know?"
"You're awake."
Mercer's voice was grim. He sat near a small campfire he had made to ward off the night's cold. His eyes were fixed on the flame, but he heard the shuffling of leather and dirt. A muffled sound rose from the shadows.
"It's no use, you know."
Exasperation crept into his voice as he turned in the direction of the noise. Just outside of the fire's warmth, he saw the writhing silhouette of the wood elf.
Aris he recalled her name to be. Brynjolf had told him once, when he had first recruited her.
Mercer had never called her by name, preferring to refer to her in a handful of more… colorful names. He watched her struggle with only mild satisfaction. The trek from Snow Veil Sanctum had been long, and dragging her along had proven...cumbersome. A handful of times he had thought to just leave her somewhere, and let the weather or the wildlife deal with her. But he needed her. As much as he hated to admit it, she was useful for some things. He tore his gaze away from her and fixed it off to his right, across the half frozen lake. The moonlight reflected brilliantly on the fresh snow, but he didn't see the brilliance. He looked instead to the brass domes set into the mountainside. They were only barely visible through the trees. A sly grin lifted the corner of his mouth, if only for a moment. The Eyes were so close now, the next day they would make their way into the ruin.
Her muffled screams tore his gaze away from the mountain. The grin morphed into a feral scowl. He rose from his seat and walked slowly toward her. He rather admired how fervently she struggled, and a malicious smile slowly spread across his face. He unsheathed the dagger at his hip and rolled it from hand to hand.
"Quiet."
His voice was ice in her ears. She stopped struggling, listening for movement. Her acute hearing picked up the near silent scuff of his boots on the snow. She tried again, to free herself, to speak, to fight, all unsuccessful attempts. His rough laughter was only a few feet from her now. She had never before felt so helpless. Her muffled screams became steadily louder, and more desperate. His laughter stopped abruptly.
A sharp pain erupted in the center of her back, cutting off her scream. Before she could react, his hand closed around her throat, dragging her off the ground.
"I said. Quiet."
She felt the heat of his breath near her ear and shuddered.
"One more sound from you and I'll give you something to scream about."
She froze at the touch of cold steel on her neck, an involuntary yelp escaped her lips. The blade pressed harder into her throat.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
She shook her head, hoping for some relief. The pressure on her throat subsided, slowly, leaving her gasping for air. Before she could orient herself, he had regained his grip and launched her backwards. She fell for only a moment before landing heavily on the rocky ground, causing old bruises aching again, and the familiar sting of new ones forming. She felt it again, in her mind. It was an intense pressure, trying once again to force its way in. She fought, but it pushed harder than ever. Dull pain throbbed in her head, and a stricken moan erupted from her throat.
The chill had crept deep into her body by the time she regained consciousness. The ground crunched as she rolled onto her stomach, leaving her guessing as to whether the sound was frost or her own body's complaints. Pain surged up her spine at her movement, relegating her to lay still against the cold ground. The fire had died out recently, she judged by the lingering scent of smoke. She tried again to move, and found her arms still restrained. It would be fruitless to attempt escape, but she struggled with the binds regardless. A combination of the pain that shot through her limbs and the hopelessness of her situation stopped her efforts. She lay flat and waited, listening for Mercer. Panic threatened to take hold of her, until she heard the faint scuff of leather. She dared to move again. The sound stopped abruptly, then the footsteps approached her. They were agonizingly slow and measured.
He didn't speak, but he was close. The footsteps had paused only a few inches from her. She had come to expect threats from him. This time, however, when his hand touched her, she thought it was slightly less menacing, until it wrapped itself in the knot of her hair and dragged her to her knees. It tore like fire through her scalp but a muffled moan was all she could manage for it. In a single motion, the hand untangled from her hair and ripped the hood from her head. "Don't. Get any clever ideas."
"Murderer!"
Her voice broke on the word. She flinched, uncomfortably as he watched her. His eye were cold, no emotion left in them, save for a dark hunger. That thought left her with a spark of fear of the man and his silence only sharpened it. She glared daggers at him.
"Let me make something...perfectly. Clear. You are nothing more than fodder."
Mercer's voice was deeper than it usually was, sending chills down her spine. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak again, the tip of his dagger was settled in the hollow of her throat. His hand clenched around her jaw, forcing her to look across a frozen lake, toward a cluster of brass topped towers.
"That. Is where we are going. That is Irkngthand. And you"
He wrenched her head back to look at him, and pressed the dagger into the soft skin of her neck. The glint in his eye was inhuman. Dread crept into the pit of her stomach.
"You are going to ensure that I get where I need to go. Unharmed. Is that understood?"
Her heart was racing. She was acutely aware of the dagger pressed to her throat and the glint in his eye.
"I asked you a question, elf. Am I und.."
She met his glare and spat at him. She froze, watching it land only inches from his foot. He stood, calmly and sheathed the dagger. The creases of his face darkened, and he took a step toward her. She tried to scramble away from his looming presence.
"I'll never help you Mercer!"
"Insolent little…"
His boot cracked against her ribs. She gasped desperately for air, scrambling back over the cold rocks. With her hands still bound, and the pain shooting through her back and chest, she collapsed quickly. His hand was wrapped around her throat before she could scream.
"If you don't want to cooperate, I would gladly sell you to the first bandit gang I see. I doubt they'll have had a Bosmer before."
The faintest grin touched the corner of his mouth, and it made her sick. The pressure on her throat grew, until her vision began to blur and fade. She struggled fruitlessly.
"No."
Her voice was barely even a whisper, but was enough for Mercer to lighten the pressure on her throat, only enough to allow her a few breaths. He watched her gasp for air.
"What was that, elf?"
The glare she directed at him only served to fuel his feral glee.
"I said. No."
"So be it."
The pressure on her throat returned, along with a foreign pressure in her mind. Her vision warped and pulsed as her mind slowly lost control, then it was gone. Her sight was darkened, and her body went limp and collapsed.
He didn't acknowledge her as he stood fluidly, and brushed the dust and gravel from his armor. With his sword and dagger hung at his hip, and her bow and quiver at his back, he returned to the elf.
"On your feet. We have a lot of ground to cover."
He heard only muttered snippets of her native tongue, but it was enough. Kicking her was becoming something he vastly enjoyed, he almost laughed. She writhed on the ground before him, clutching her stomach. Pitiful. What had Brynjolf ever seen in this...thing. He drew his dagger and pressed its tip into the small of her back.
"Move."
She complied, reluctantly, but without complaint. This would be fun indeed.
Irkngthand. It was an old Dwemer city, carved out of the mountain itself. Karliah had suggested they approach from above, to avoid any traps or bandits. They had spent the better part of the morning scaling the cliffside a fair distance from the outer city, before they had finally reached a respectable outcropping of rock. Karliah guided him along the edge until the came to the peak. Luck had been on their side as the peak was directly above the entrance to the city. Repelling from the cliff was a simple task and within moments they were inside.
The stench of blood filled their senses as soon as the great metal doors swung open, halting them at the threshold. The metallic clang of the door closing made them jump forward.
"Karliah..Look at that.."
"...Mercer."
His very name instilled a quiet rage in him. The man had clearly been here, the corpses sprawled near the center of the room were proof of that. The pair crept into the dim, smoldering light of the firepit.
"This was a massacre…"
"We need to keep moving."
Brynjolf paused for only a moment in the firelight before pushing forward into the gloom. They passed deeper into the ruin finding only more carnage in Mercer's wake. Few words were shared as they delved. Finally after several minutes of creeping down the winding halls of the ruin they came to a large cavern. The cavern was enormous, with Dwarven architecture seamlessly merged with the natural rock. The awe they felt was quickly consumed by a sense of dread as they picked out the tell-tale signs of Falmer littering the entire complex. At the heart of the room stood a single Steam Centurion, deactivated fortunately. As they studied the layout of the room, mapping the best route, movement below the caught Brynjolf's eye. He held up a signal to Karliah, directing her gaze to the movement he saw. Far below them, two figures moved slowly along the far wall of the cavern. Brynjolf recognized both Mercer and his apprentice. His eyes grew wide with shock, and he turned a disbelieving gaze to Karliah.
"I don't know, Bryn.."
Karliah kept her voice low, but a echo still sounded all around them. Brynjolf turned his gaze back to the cavern. Mercer had stopped and turned to Aris, all around the pair, Brynjolf saw figures moving toward them. He wanted to warn his apprentice, but he knew he couldn't alert Mercer to their presence. Mercer moved, ever so slightly, and Aris stood and began walking out into the center of the cavern. Brynjolf watched frantically as his apprentice began drawing the attention of the Falmer away from Mercer. As soon as his path was clear again, Mercer moved, still creeping along the wall. A gut-wrenching shriek echoed through the cavern as the first Falmer found Aris, followed by the screeches of its kin. Brynjolf tore his eyes away from the scene and bolted down the next hallway, leaving Karliah in his wake. The sound of his footsteps drew Mercer's gaze up to their vantage point. He locked eyes with Karliah and a malicious grin split his lips. Karliah backed out of his sight and sprinted down the hallway after Brynjolf.
The great metal door creaked softly as it opened. The pair managed to slip into the sanctuary before it closed with a solid thud. They remained crouched in the shadows of the doorway, assessing the situation they were in. The sanctuary was an enormous cavern, lit by the eerie glow of the plethora of fungi that covered the walls. The centerpiece of the cavern was the statue. It was precisely carved from stone and dominated the entire room. The most impressive piece of the statue was the eyes. They were shaped from raw diamond and were each as large as a child.
A sense of dread grew in the pit of her stomach as she beheld the statue. Mercer was already here, atop the statue's collar. His attention was entirely focused on the task of prying the gems from their settings. He hadn't noticed them enter. Brynjolf scanned the chamber desperately searching for evidence of his apprentice to no avail. The dread he had felt in the pit of his stomach since Karliah had returned from Snow Veil Sanctum surged through him like a flood, paralyzing his legs. He was vaguely aware of Karliah slowly drawing her bow and taking aim at Mercer. He heard the twang of the bowstring and the whistle of the arrow as it flew. His heart beat thudded loudly in his chest, as he strained to hear the telltale thud of the arrow hitting its mark. The sound never came, instead there was a metallic clatter as the arrow struck the statue and fell harmlessly to the cavern floor.
"Karliah when will you learn that you can't get the drop on me?"
Brynjolf whipped his head toward the statue to see Mercer facing them. Even from this distance he could make out the shadowed creases of Mercer's face. Karliah moved quickly, another arrow trained on him as she stepped toward the statue. Brynjolf tried to move to help her, but found that his legs were still frozen in place, along with the rest of his body. Slowly his vision began to fade into a red haze.
His heart stopped. Aris. She stood in front of him. Her clothing was tattered and bloodied revealing mottled bruises and open wounds covering her body. Rage burned in his stomach. He would kill Mercer for this. She lifted her head to meet his eyes. He tried desperately to get to her. The look she gave him was broken and plead for relief. His vision pulsed red and he felt his legs moving forward of their own accord. He closed the distance between them slowly. With a sense of dread coming over him, he realised that he was not in control of his body. His mind reeled against his body as his hands moved to the hilts of his daggers. He sensed the foreign presence in his mind, felt all of the malice and hatred that seeped into his mind. The screech of metal rang in his ears as the daggers slid from their sheaths.
Attack.
He heard the suggestion in his mind and struggled to regain control. He couldn't obey. The presence was too strong, he was forced to watch as his body launched toward her. She was defenseless. Her eyes held a new fear that he had never wanted to see.
No!
He watched through the red cloud over his eyes as the scrambled backwards, away from the angry brass of his dagger. Fear glinted in her eyes as she turned to run. His legs began to move after her, slowly at first, but moving quickly into a run. He chased her over the statue, only a few steps behind her. His mind begged for her to stay ahead, to stay on her feet.
The sound rang through his mind, deafening his thoughts. The sound of flesh and metal colliding. The sound of flesh falling into stone. The skitter of loose rock running aimlessly.
She had fallen.
No…
He felt a grin split his lips as his body stalked forward. His shadow blanketing her in a terrible darkness. He lips moving, and his ears deaf to her plea. Her eyes….
Do it…
His body frozen in place, looming over her. Her broken, beaten body cowering helplessly in his shadow. The fear in her eyes. The angry brass. The scream that started in his mind and bled quickly into the world around him. The red brass in his hand.
His head spun. The smell of blood overwhelmed his nose and nausea clawed at his stomach. His heart fluttered in his chest. His vision cleared. He nearly wretched. His armor, his daggers, his hands were smeared with blood.
"Brynjolf!"
Karliah's voice sounded so far away, but he heard her footsteps as she raced toward him. She paused for a moment beside him before racing passed him. His eyes slowly followed her as she skidded, on her knees toward something.
His heart thudded loudly.
"Aris…"
His daggers fell to the floor, clattering against the metal and stone. He scrambled toward her, his heart in his throat. He skidded clumsily to a halt.
"What...did you do…"
He stared wide eyed. She was sprawled across the debris in a pool of blood. Her clothes torn and blood stained. He knelt beside her, trying to turn her over, but when he touched her, she screamed. Karliah pushed his hand away and helped Aris turn over. He felt the heat of tears in his eyes. There was so much blood. He knew Karliah was rushing to staunch the bleeding. He knew he should be helping. He is frozen there, in front of her. Her eyes hold an emotion he does not recognize. It is concern, and pain, and relief, and fear… and hatred. He holds her gaze, and wants to hide from it, until, all at once, her eyes turn glassy and roll shut.
Karliah has turned to him, shaking him. Her mouth moving. He shakes his head and focuses.
"...if we can get out of here in time."
