Chapter 2

Hunters Hunted

Nova stretched as much as her armor would allow and descended the stairs into the inn's common room. It was mercifully vacant and blissfully quiet. She looked around, yawning, to see the tables shone with polish and the chairs were neatly stacked. Her gaze wandered the room searching for the absent innkeeper. A curtain partitioning a doorway behind the bar drew her attention. Beyond it, she could hear the sounds of cooking. The warrior bit her lip. She probably wasn't supposed to go in there. Buuut… No, she shook her head and cast the thought away.

A heavy thud shook the floorboards from beyond. It was punctuated by a cry of pain and a swear.

Nova sprang forward, hastening behind the counter and pushing aside the curtain before poking her head inside. A frown creased her face when she found no one behind it.

"Hello?" she called, moving into the room fully.

A groan rose from behind a line of barrels near the corner. She followed it to find a collection of heavy sacks of grain the size of her torso scattered in a haphazard pile. Beneath their mass poked the arms and head of a man with a gray beard as he rubbed the back of his head. He gave her a chagrined smirk.

"Good morning," he winced. "I don't suppose I could convince you not to tell a soul about this, could I?"

Nova couldn't help the wicked smirk that tugged at her.

"I could be persuaded," she chuckled, hefting the sacks off of his legs.

He wriggled from the haggard heap and stared at the mess. Well, at least none of the bags had broken open. With a sigh, he looked to the broken shelf on the wall, the source of his predicament, and began to stack them on the shelf below it. Nova did the same without a word. He blinked for a heartbeat.

"Hey," the innkeeper blinked, watching her heft the sacks two at a time. "You're pretty strong!"

"Thank you," Nova replied absently.

"If you're ever interested in a new line of work..." he offered with a grin and a good-natured wink.

"Nope," she replied with a sidelong glance and a sly smile.

They finished their task in companionable silence before the innkeeper stood back to admire their work. He ran an appraising finger along the gouges torn in the wall by the broken shelf.

"I think I'll have to reinforce them all," he mused, scratching his full beard.

Nova offered no comment, wondering how she could politely excuse herself.

"Oh!" the man said, clapping his hands together sharply. "Where are my manners? Name's George!" He spun to her and offered his hand in greeting.

"George," Nova repeated slowly, rolling the unfamiliar name on her tongue.

"It's actually Wulf, but when every third man in the city's name is Wulf… Well, my brother gave it to me and it stuck, so George it is," the innkeeper smiled.

Nova frowned.

"He could have chosen something more… normal," she commented.

"It was better than the first nickname he gave me," George deadpanned, but his mirth was back in the next instant as he laughed heartily. "Now for saving me from the terrible hoard, let me at least get you something to eat! No arguing!" he insisted as he saw her mouth open.

George paused and sniffed the air stiffly. With a swear, he dashed to the other end of the kitchen where a massive hearth dominated the section. Over the roaring flames sat an equally massive pot whose lid was just beginning to rattle as frothing broth pushed from under it and dripped down into the fire, hissing as it spattered.

"No you don't!" George insisted, picking up a long-handled wooden spoon and looking as if he was about to physically beat the boiling mixture into submission.

Beyond Nova's view of the battling man and the rebellious pot, a door opened, letting in the gentle light of dawn with the crisp morning air. The barmaid from the night before stepped in and shut the door behind her, a basket's handle tucked into the crook of her arm. Her eyes snapped to the warrior at once.

"Oh! Good morning!" she smiled. "I didn't realize we had company."

Nova's mouth opened to reply, but no words came out.

"We work in an inn," George chimed, without turning around. "We always have company!"

The young woman ignored the quip and grimaced at him instead.

"You need a hand there, Dad?"

"No, no, I've got it," he assured, freeing one hand to quite literally wave her away. "But would you grab our guest some breakfast for me?"

"Sure," she nodded, moving toward a long counter that dominated one wall and setting her basket down. Nova noted absently that the basket was filled with eggs just before she simultaneously realized she was staring. She snapped her mouth shut and pointedly turned her gaze in any other suitable direction.

"I'm sorry," the barmaid offered, wincing as she rummaged through the cupboards beneath the counter. "We really don't have that much ready at the moment. Yesterday's rolls and some jam are about the best I can do."

"That's fine," Nova assured, her voice surprisingly soft. She blinked at herself and cleared her throat. "Anything will do."

"There's a wheel of cheese on the shelf," George called. "It just needs to be cut."

"That's alright," Nova interjected, holding up her hand. "This will do nicely. Don't trouble yourselves," she insisted, taking the roll the woman held out to her.

"It's no trouble," the barmaid refuted with the same gentle smile she'd worn the night before. "I have to cut it anyway."

"It's alright," Nova repeated yet again. She fought to stay focused as she stared into the woman's warm, green eyes. They were quite lovely. "Thank you," she whispered before turning away and hurrying through the curtained door and out into the common room again. She loosed a sigh, her heart thudding in her chest. She wondered at it for a moment, then shook her head. It seemed socializing with Outlanders must still make her nervous. Nova ran a flippant hand through her hair and made for the staircase to the room she shared with Aveth. It was time for them to be underway.

Nova approached the sequestered cottage for the second time in as many days, knocking loudly on the door. To her credit, she waited for all of five heartbeats before lifting a booted foot and kicking the wooden construct open. Aveth grimaced at her.

"Nice and subtle," he glowered. "We'll just explain this to the authorities. I'm sure breaking and entering isn't a crime."

Nova winced, belatedly glancing around the street while hoping no one had noticed. The small path had only four other pedestrians, and of them, only a man seated in shabby clothes paid them any mind. Nova hunched her shoulders, then thought better of it and stood tall. An old voice rang in her ears: "When in doubt, act like you're supposed to be where you are, and do what you're doing."

Nova shrugged with a grimace and strode into the house. An uneasy feeling built within her that she could not quell. Every other time she'd met with her informant over the years, he'd been here. It was noon. He was always here at noon… A frown creased her face as she looked around.

Dishes littered the floor along with what looked like the remnants of a meal, now sour smelling and beginning to mold. An overturned chair near the dark fireplace completed the ensemble, forming a grim reality in the travelers' minds. Nova turned to Aveth, who looked just as dour as she.

Aveth tensed, whirling on his toes as he drew his blade in a single motion. A metallic clang rang out through the single room as the dirty face of a haggard man leered at him, teeth bared.

Nova tensed, drawing her sword in a breath. This was not her informant. She had no time to wonder as two more men streamed through the doorway, weapons raised. She engaged them at once as Aveth crippled the fighter before him with a kick to the knee that shattered bone. The dunmer shoved him away bodily and stabbed one the newcomers just below their unprotected ribs. He was rewarded with an agonized scream.

In the span of a heartbeat, Nova cast away the irritation that clung to her. Emotions in battle made her reckless, as Aveth was always quick to remind her. She lifted her sword to block as her opponent hefted what looked like a short-handled woodcutter's ax, aiming a strike for her head. A dull thud resounded as the weapons collided. Nova danced away, extracting herself and donning a frightened expression. The man took the bait as he charged for her again. She stabbed for his neck, the reach of her sword far superior to the short ax. Her blade speared into his throat, skidding off his spine and leaving a messy, jagged cut that severed half of his neck. He fell, wide-eyed and opened his mouth in a silent scream as a horrible, sputtering gurgle burbled from him.

Aveth dispatched the other two with equal ease, but their triumph was short lived as yet more men streamed through the doorway. Nova swore, backing away to give herself more room in the small abode. Aveth did the same, ruby eyes gleaming.

A thin man with a hooked nose strutted in with a vile grin. He looked between the two and licked his lips. Eight warriors were at his back, though they looked more like brigands in their mismatched armors and worn vestments. His eyes flicked down to the men on the floor and the smile bled from him.

"Lackeys of the little skeever," the man sneered, spitting on the floor with disdain. "Don't you worry. You'll join your master soon enough!"

Nova and Aveth had just enough time to exchange a puzzled glance. Did these ruffians think they worked for Nova's informant?

Aveth's gaze darted around the cabin. This was bad. Aside from the singular window that let in a meager light, there was no other way out. The dunmer frowned, speaking quickly.

"We are no servants of his. Quite the other way around!"

"Bah! Words are cheap. You'll have to bleed your way out of this," the man promised, grinning with brown teeth. "Chain 'em good boys!"

"Now, just a moment Mister Yolk," called a friendly voice, entirely out of place amid the rising stench of blood. The ramshackle fighters hurried to clear a path as a smiling man strode into the room. He wore a silken quilted doublet of rich gold, trimmed in a burnt orange. The gaudy outfit was accentuated with a number of jeweled rings on his fingers and a thin, ebony blade on his hip with its hilt likewise bejeweled. In a strange twist, his head was entirely unadorned and shaved so completely, they could have sworn they saw their own reflections.

"Dear Mister Yolk," the bald man continued. "Let's not be so hasty!" He turned to Nova and Aveth with a wide smile. "My friends, I beg your forgiveness! This is all just a terrible misunderstanding! Let us set it aside for a moment. Now please," he said gesturing to them imploringly. "What business did you have with Mister Ironheel?"

Nova's face scrunched and she exchanged another glance with Aveth. When he shrugged, she lifted her voice.

"We hired him to find out certain information for us."

The bald man nodded slowly.

"Ah, I see," he offered, his tone saturated with apology. "Well, I'm afraid that Mister Ironheel made some very poor choices recently. Most notably, a ledger of mine is now in the hands of some nefarious individuals who have no business with such things..."

Neither of the warriors liked where this was going.

"But please, I cannot allow his transgressions to sully our burgeoning friendship!" he announced, spreading his hands wide. "I'm certain we can help one another, don't you agree?"

"No," Nova groused before glowering at him.

Aveth elbowed her pointedly and made a subtle gesture toward the growing number of men in the room as they trickled in in ones and twos.

The bald man, however, laughed merrily at her outburst, turning to face her fully with a smile that had all the comfort of ooze sliding across her skin.

"Oh come now. It's nothing illegal in the slightest! I'm just asking you to recover my own stolen property! And you may rest assured that the men who harbor it are a dastardly, villainous lot. Indeed, if you should find yourselves in need to thin their numbers, do not let your conscience be troubled."

Aveth and Nova exchanged another glance, this one disbelieving.

"Why should we do anything you ask?" Nova glared. The thought of having to trade with this pile of human excrement just to get at the information she was owed made her cheeks flush with red.

"Why, in exchange for my benevolence, of course," he replied suavely. "I'm offering to open my home to you, to grant you safe passage and let you speak with Mister Ironheel yourselves."

Nova's seething thoughts turned dark.

"Or I could kill you," she said before Aveth elbowed her in the armored ribs again, harder this time.

"You could certainly try, but you're already outnumbered and I still have more men on the way," he said matter-of-factly. "But come now. Good lady, I am a businessman. Having two well-trained warriors take care of a small problem is far better than having the same warriors kill scores of my men before they themselves are killed. Such a waste of good assets." The words dripped with honey as his gaze lingered uncomfortably long on Nova. She barely managed to suppress a shudder.

Aveth stepped forward, ruby eyes veritably glowing.

"You must understand the predicament you place us in. We cannot even be sure Mister Ironheel has the information we hired him to find," the dunmer countered logically.

"Of course!" the bald man gasped, as if suddenly realizing the same thing. "How silly of me! Well rest assured, my good friends! If he lacks the knowledge you seek, I will send out my own people to find the information for you!"

Nova shot him a look that told him exactly how much she believed him.

He smiled even wider, placing a hand to his chest.

"No friends of Quintillius Black will ever want for their end of the bargain being met," came the solemn oath. "That's not good for business," he reminded.

"At no extra cost?" Aveth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, normally such things would come with a modest fee, but I will waive it for the two of you. Let's call it a gesture of good will. I just feel that we could be such exquisite friends." The last word slipped from his mouth like something vulgar and obscene as he looked again to Nova.

For her part, the warrior was more than willing to work out how she could actually make someone physically eat their words. Because if he said 'friend' one more time…

Aveth turned to Nova. They needed no words to exchange their thoughts. Well this was just great. Really. But what choice did they have? Neither of them were leaving this room alive if they refused.

"I suppose we have an agreement, then," Aveth answered.

"Splendid!" Quintillius triumphed, clapping his hands together.

"But I'm afraid we'll have to make repairs to our equipment first," Aveth said pragmatically.

"Of course, of course! I cannot apologize enough for this little misunderstanding!" the man nodded vigorously. "That being said… I can only assure Mister Ironheel's good health for perhaps two more days..."

Aveth grimaced and clenched his fist, but forced himself to nod. So that was how the game was played.

"Now, if you have a map, I can direct you to the area where the thieves made their camp," the bald man offered. Aveth pulled out a map while Quintillius snapped his fingers and a young boy scurried forward from shadows unseen, pulling a quill and ink from a bag at his side. The man took them and marked the parchment with a flourish before nodding.

Quintillius Black turned to Nova and spoke with sickly sweet words that made her skin crawl.

"If you need accommodations, my home is well equipped. I could give you quite a tour..."

"Not if the Ancestors themselves returned from the Far Shore and commanded it," Nova deadpanned.

Aveth wanted to slap his own forehead, but Quintillius's smile only broadened.

"If you change your mind..." he offered with a coy smirk as he turned away, flanked by his men as they marched from the house.

Aveth looked sidelong at Nova once they were finally alone.

"Nice and subtle," he commented, chastising her outright rebuke.

"If you're about to tell me I should have played along, it's not happening," she promised.

"No, but try not to outright anger him," he cautioned. "He seems a dangerous enemy."

"Until I pay him a midnight visit," she grimaced, gesturing with a slash across her throat.

He patted her shoulder solemnly before starting to clean his sword and dagger.

"Killing a man on the battlefield is different than killing a man in his bed," Aveth commented softly.

Nova made a dismissive noise and knelt to pick up a fallen cloak from one of the men to clean her blade before sheathing it. Without looking to see if he was following, she strode out into the empty street. It wasn't fair. Now she had to scamper off to do someone's bidding to get the information that was already hers by right? Curse it all, she didn't have time for this! She had to find Lucinda. Nothing else mattered! But it had been three centuries already… Sweet Spirits of the Ancestors, how much longer would it take? She was going to lose her mind before then.

Shaking her head, she spoke to Aveth beside her.

"Why don't you go on ahead. I'm not very good company right now."

Aveth gave a nod she didn't see and patted her shoulder once before his long strides carried him past her ambling steps. She soon found herself alone with no where to go in the foreign city. The quiet and solitude gave her far too much time to think. Things best left buried bubbled to the fore of her mind. She growled to the sky and forced herself with driving steps to move anywhere but here.

After a time, she found her feet on the path to the inn and sighed. It was better than just standing around here. The warrior pushed open the door, eyes downcast. Her boots thudded dully on the floor as she muttered a scathing swear and ran a hand through her hair.

"Rough day, huh?" asked a voice.

Nova jumped in surprise and turned to see the innkeeper's daughter. She wore a small, patient smile while holding a rag in one hand and a bucket of water in the other.

Strangely, Nova found the tension and anger bleed from her body.

"Rough... series," she admitted, running a hand through her hair again with another sigh.

Reina's face scrunched in sympathy. She set down the bucket and rag on a nearby table and wiped her hands on her apron, fixing Nova with her full attention before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The warrior blinked in confusion, studying the woman. Outlanders were always rushing to and fro throughout their day. They didn't have time for others and didn't make time. Yet here was this woman with such kind eyes, offering the warrior a sympathetic ear. Nova bit her lip and cast her eyes down, very nearly telling her the weight of her centuries. Spirits of the Ancestors, she was tired. So tired. But she shook her head regardless.

"Thank you, but I-"

Arms wrapped around her, making her jump as a hand fell to her sword out of reflex. Her wide eyes fixed on the slightly shorter woman. An errant thought protested at the notion that someone might see, but she ignored it. Sequestered in the gentle hug, Nova found the weary world just a bit easier to shoulder…

"Now don't get me wrong," the barmaid said softly. "I don't normally give hugs to strangers. But that look in your eyes… it just makes me sad." Nova wondered if she should acknowledge, but found herself unable to speak before the woman continued. "You don't have to tell me your business, but if you change your mind, my offer stands. I'm a pretty good listener." With that, she released the warrior who still stood stunned.

Nova pushed away her stupor with an internal growl. Perhaps the next enemy that fought her ought to just hug her. It seemed an effective tactic for leaving her an ice-brained fool.

"Thank you," Nova replied, perhaps a little stiffly. "I will consider it." She wouldn't, but it was the only response she could think of to get herself out of the situation. "Good day to you, Miss...er..." she paused, realizing she didn't actually know the woman's name and amended, "Miss." She placed a hand over her chest and gave a polite bow before whirling on her heel and hurrying up the stairs.

"Reina," came the answer with a lighthearted chuckle.

"Nova," the name slipped from her lips before the warrior could stop it.

Blast it all. Why give the woman her name?

Why not?

Shut up.

She reached the top of the stairs and saw Aveth leaning casually on the railing with a smug smirk plastered on his face that told her he'd seen everything.

"One word and you'll only sing high notes," she growled.

"I don't sing," he commented. His smirk widened as her face flushed red, but whether in embarrassment or anger, he couldn't quite tell. Probably both. Maybe he should poke her and find out. She stormed past him and shut herself in their room.

Aveth stretched out both hands, looking at one.

"Let's see… be a good friend and give her some space?" He looked to the other hand, "Or… use this only to annoy..." The dunmer's hands vacillated as if he were physically weighing his options with a wolfish grin on his face. Ah, but the centuries provided him with so little amusement. And this was far too good to let pass.

His long strides carried him slowly, boots clomping on the wood floor.

"My friend, some days you make it too easy," he grinned.

A/N: It's good to be back. :) New chapters on (or around) Mondays. Because Mondays should have something to look forward to. (It sounds less narcissistic in my head...) Have a lovely morning, afternoon, or night. In any order that suits you. -Azi