Chapter 3

We knew there were other here the moment we entered, living people; not the draugr-Vilkas said that's what Nords call the ancient undead-that make me want to jump out of my skin. The maps had been strewn all over an embalming table along with some opened sarcophaguses. My mom had always told me that people who disturb the dead wind up joining them, usually by having their faces melted off by a turned artifact of Mara. She'd been a really gifted story-teller. I mean, I guess that's what Vilkas and I are doing, but that piece belongs to the Companions and I need to move forward on this job. People in the Guild must think I'm dead by now.

Draugr are fugly. I've faced recently risen and skeletons from necromancers, but these things make orcs look like Dibella's chosen. I nearly screamed like a girl when the first one came running at me like it was on fire. I had to be cool, though, needed to impress broody more so he'd stop pestering me. He really wasn't paying attention to me, though-some trial-he seemed more concentrated on something else. I'd guess it was who ever had decided to join us in this wonderful crypt, but he seemed to look almost pained at times. As long as he didn't notice I was shaking in my boots, I really didn't care. Lie, I did. Whole point of this infiltration was for these brutes to like me.

After killing a bunch of the draugr, we came upon some random-ass circular room filled with potions and other useful items, never a good sign. We split up to gather as much as we could before leaving to face the unknown. I went into an equally random room with a few health potions and a lever while he was checking out gods-know-what. I'm naturally a curious creature having grown up in a family of mages oblivion-bent on figuring out everything. Seriously, my sister once turned me into a dog for a week to figure out the psychological effects of transfiguration. She didn't even get scolded! I, on the other hand, had stayed out three minutes past curfew a few times and got grounded for a month.

With my curiosity compelling me like religion, I pulled the lever. The gate shut behind me with a deafening crash and I was suddenly a prisoner in a tomb. Mom was right. Vilkas walked over with his usual scowl, "I'd thought it'd be gratifying for a thief to be behind bars, but this is just annoying. I take back what I said about you not being stupid."

"Oh, I'm really torn up," My voice came out a little more harshly sarcastic than intended, but anyone would be cranky in this situation. "Just figure out how to open...who the frak are they?"

A group of what looked like bandits ran in carrying really expensive swords. Seriously, those things were all silver. A man with an axe spoke first, "Well, look what we have here; a dog chasing a thief out of the house."

What the frak? I noticed Vilkas tense even more and growl, "You better leave us, now! I'm warning you!"

These bandits just laughed, getting ready to attack. Oh crap. I mean, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of Vilkas's sword, but the numbers! Ten to one is not a good ratio. I can't even fire an arrow from behind here; I'm completely useless. Just as they were all about to rush him, though, he began to change. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. He's a fraking werewolf! The roar itself probably awoke every single draugr in this tomb. In horror, I watched him tear those poor bandits apart like wet paper. Now, the dog reference makes sense. How had they known he was a werewolf? Did the other companions know? Was this the punishment the nine sent for me? Oh, look, he's going away. Thank the nine! I'll rot in here before I have to fight a werewolf.

Leaning on the gate in relief, I let out a little laugh. There must be a whole group of daedra laughing about my situation right now. Vilkas being a werewolf certainly explains how he heard me sneaking around at night, or he probably smelled me. Mara's mercy. If I ever get out of this situation, I might just run away from everything and live with my aunt in Cyrodiil. The guild might hunt me down if I just leave, though, which would be worse. What am I saying? I can't leave something unfinished. That's like not reading all volumes of The Lusty Argonian Maid because you get a girlfriend. I'll be the greatest thief of all time if I pull this off without a hitch. My priorities are obviously in the right place; who needs life when you can be in a history book. I just need to get out of this cage.

As if in answer to my thoughts, the bars lifted up and Vilkas walked back into the room. Fully human, he seemed much more angry than he had been before. Tread lightly, Bayard, don't want to wind up like the poor bandit grave robbers now decorating the room, "My, Vilkas, what big teeth you have." My brain to mouth connection has never worked properly, surprised I can manipulate people so well actually. I'm also surprised I didn't die immediately after I said that. Hmm, guy must like me more than I give him credit for.

"I honestly didn't expect much more than that. I suppose you have questions,"

I scoffed, "No, that was pretty much cut and dry. You're a werewolf, I'm completely fine with that, let's move on before more of these grave robbers show up. Though, silver swords for a group like this is kind of odd. Hold the courier! Swords made of silver, hunts werewolves, that...total rumor of a group hiring the Thieves Guild to steal wuuthrad. You, probably more considering the noises from Aela's room. They're the Silver Hand, by the nine!"

I have to be good a deductions in my line of work. Making connections often helps when you're sizing up a mark, well if you're right. I don't want to delve into that story, though. Let's just say a corset and a troll were involved. My father taught me how to do this when he thought I would join the queen's guard like he had. Well, that dream had ended when I grew as tall as I did. For some reason in Tamriel, you had to look almost exactly the same as all the guards if you wanted to join. Well the same under a helmet and armor. It makes the citizens feel safer or something like that, I just think it's discriminatory against all us abnormal heighted people everywhere. I should lead a rally about this. But, who would come? There was very little variation in this place.

Vilkas looked impressed at first, then furrowed his brow, "What do you mean, 'rumor to steal wuuthrad'?"

"Oh, erm, you didn't hear," Quick lie, go! "The Thieves Guild was offered a job to steal it, but they killed the guy because they saw it as a plot to get them all killed. I mean, the story's been all over the Rift. You really didn't hear about it?"

The suspicion came back, I mean I knew it was a little far fetched myself. It wasn't the style of the Thieve's Guild to kill someone. Unless that person was particularly annoying, anyway. I also knew the Guild really didn't turn down a job that would prove their salt, especially with the way things have been going lately. Delvin's curse theory was what I believed; no one had this much bad luck. Certainly explains the way my job has been going. I need to distract from this conversation, though, lest I become a werewolf's next meal.

"So, which way now?" I asked enthusiastically.

Vilkas glared at me before turning down the hall he'd just came from, "You better hope I don't catch you, thief."

What a wonderful guy! I mean his assumptions were probably all correct, unless he assumed I was from another world that was completely desolate and full of strange machines. Well, he'd know of the plot to the book series I'm writing. You see, already have the first book down and the second one is almost finished. It follows the adventures of a young courier named Buzz Moore who was shot in the head with a machine I call a gun and brought back by a kind old medicine man. The second book revolves around him in a place called New Vegas, he's a totally awesome thief now. He's gonna find out why he was shot in the end, but right now he's going to resolve a war between Caesar's Legion and the NCR. I'm already thinking about the third book where he comes to Tamriel. It's going to be amazing when I get it published, but I can't think of a good pen name.

We continued to delve deeper into the crypt, encountering more Silver Hand and draugr. This place seems to have no end! At least Vilkas agreed to sneaking around with me so I could dispose of the sleeping draugr quickly without getting anything else to attack. Eventually reached the second part of the place, the actual crypt. Confusing. It was pretty much the same except no Silver Hand anymore really. That was something, I guess. Broody was still eyeing me like I would put a dagger in his back and run, but didn't say anything else. I feel like this is going to be a love/hate relationship for, well, ever. Or as long as I stay in the Companions. That might be forever with the way this was going, though.

We finally reached the Cairn part after a little while longer. It was mostly spiders and skeevers. The average ecosystem of the Ratway nowadays. Finally, we reached the grand room where the fragment of wuuthrad lay on a table. The place was completely filled with stone coffins lined up on the walls and one in the middle of the room I went to pick it up, this seems a little too easy. I could hear Vilkas tense in his armor when I picked up the piece delicately. Who knew how fragile this thing was? That's when the first sarcophagus opened with a crash. I drew my daggers in anticipation for a big fight. Just my luck.