A.N Hello guys! That's right I haven't actually fallen off a cliff and died! But I have returned with a new chapter. It's been too long... But as I'm possibly the world's worst procrastinator I think you'd better get used to it ._. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, your input is always welcome, and it DOES actually encourage me to write more! I hope you all like this chapter.
It was the smell of cooking meat to which Dalamar awoke to that morning. Blearily he cracked his eyes open taking in smudged shades of pink and orange on the horizon. Reaching up a hand to rub his eyes, he quickly stiffened as he found them bound in metal. He rolled over wildly and let out a gasp as sharp pain shot through his side. Feeling the other's gaze on him, Dalamar sat up gingerly. He eyed the other man warily, as Lucien gave him a moments bemused look before returning his attention to the hunk of boar meat currently roasting over the campfire. Dalamar's stomach rumbled as he breathed in the scent of cooking meat. It had been a while since he'd had a decent meal. However the sight of the other man brought back the sketchy memories of the previous night. He inwardly cringed as he remembered the chaos that had taken place; the fire, the magicka, and the cocky bastard, who from the looks of things had busted him out of prison.
"Good morning,"
Lucien's voice cut through the Bosmer's thoughts and brought him back to the present.
Dalamar met the man's gaze and nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak. In the pale daylight Lucien did not look half as threatening as he had in the dimly lit prison cell. He was simply dressed in dark brown breeches and a black cotton shirt, and his hair was still in the neat ponytail. The laces on his shirt were half undone giving Dalamar a small view of a well toned chest.
Seemingly satisfied with his cooking, Lucien took the meat off the makeshift spit and with a small knife sliced up some into a bowl with a hunk of bread.
"Eat," he commanded, placing the bowl beside the Bosmer before moving behind the boy and removing the shackles.
Dalamar didn't need to be told, he grabbed the food and began eating with as much gusto as only a starved man can. Lucien regarded him for a moment before settling down with his own bowl and consuming the contents at a much slower pace.
They shared breakfast in silence, each one lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't until Lucien stood up that Dalamar started, once again on the defensive. Lucien gazed down on him his eyes unreadable.
"Take off your shirt,"
Dalamar stared back at him.
"What?"
"It wasn't a question, now take it off... We're leaving as soon as I've looked at that wound,"
Not wanting to anger the older man, Dalamar complied and tugged his tunic off. Lucien knelt next to the elf and gently washed the dry blood away with a damp cloth. The wound was deep but Lucien was sure it would heal in time. Taking a roll of bandage and a jar of ointment from his pack, Lucien spread the salve over the wound before bandaging it tightly around the the Bosmer's lower ribs. The elf was silent during the procedure, the only sounds being quick intakes of breath when Lucien pressed too firmly around the injured area. Once he was done Dalamar turned to thank him before he was roughly pushed to the ground with the Imperial's knee in his back. Before he knew it his hands were behind his back and he was once again bound with the silence enchanted shackles.
"Useful things these, aren't they," Lucien quipped.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" He snarled into the dirt, "Let me go!"
Lucien regarded him with a raised eyebrow.
"And have you burn me to a crisp? I think not,"
Dalamar stared at him in disbelief before shaking his head and standing up. Lucien smirked at him then went about packing up the makeshift camp. Once finished with that the Imperial strode off into the trees returning with a large, black horse. Ignoring Dalamar's protests, he grabbed the elf and threw him with ease into the saddle where he sat nervously wishing he could use his hands to hold onto something. After securing his pack behind the horse's saddle, Lucien mounted up to seat himself behind the Bosmer and squeezed the horse's sides urging her into a fast walk.
Noting the elf's discomfort and lack of balance atop the animal, he slung his right arm around the smaller frame while keeping his left hand on the reins.
"Her name is Shadowmere," He stated, eyes on the approaching road ahead of them. Dalamar did not reply and they rode in silence for several minutes. Lucien almost didn't hear the younger man when he murmured,
"Who are you?"
Lucien gazed down into the Bosmer's mop of dark hair, he hadn't bothered to look at the older man.
"I believe I have told you my name," He remarked lightly.
He could almost feel the elf's exasperation.
"Name yes. Who are you though? What do you do? ... What has anything got to do me?"
Lucien remained unfazed through the elf's barrage of questions. After a moments silence and Dalamar almost thought he wasn't going to reply, he found the mans lips so close to his ear, he could almost feel them moving.
"What do I do? Why that's simple" He whispered, "I'm a murderer."
Dalamar stiffened slightly at a loss for words.
"And as for you," The man continued, as if he had simply been remarking on the weather, "You caught my interest... And things that catch my interest, I find are usually worth investigating further,"
Dalamar swallowed nervously.
"Where are we going?"
Lucien inhaled slowly, taking in the forest around them and the golden light slowly rising in the east.
"All in good time Bosmer,"
There was a slight pause and then,
"Do not worry Dalamar... Had I wanted to kill you, you would be long dead already"
The sun was high in the sky before the elf spoke again.
"You don't strike me as a murderer,"
To Dalamar's surprise Lucien laughed; a deep, rich sound.
"Perhaps I use the term too loosely," He said, amusement lacing his voice. "I am much much more than a murderer," His tone turned serious once more "And you...pray tell, what were you doing last night hmm? Tell me your story and perhaps I will share with you some of mine,"
Dalamar relented, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice anyways.
"There is not much to tell," He began, frowning at the memory. Lucien listened to the Bosmer's tale, he himself frowning silently. What had happened was obviously the result of untrained magicka surging as could happen when the mage was under tremendous emotional strain, coupled with the fact that the elf was high on skooma. But the power... The sheer raw power that he could feel emanating from the elf when Dalamar had been fleeing. He gave the Bosmer a calculating look. Raw magic was why there were so few truly powerful mages around. So few lived to be able to receive proper training. The boy was lucky to have escaped with just a headache. But if he could be trained... Sithis knew what he could achieve. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that said Bosmer had twisted in the saddle and was staring at him as if waiting for a reply.
"Lachance?"
Lucien snapped his focus to the younger man.
"Yes?" He inquired, staring intently into Dalamar's hazel eyes for a single moment.
The Bosmer didn't flinch and stared back somewhat sullenly.
"My arms have gone numb... Will you believe me when I say I have not the means nor the inclination to burn you to a crisp, and remove these shackles?"
Lucien regarded the elf silently. He saw no malice nor fear on the man's face, only a guarded weariness. Making his decision he gently steered Shadowmere off the road and into the trees a little way.
"One is unlikely to come across those bearing ill will towards travelers in these parts," he told Dalamar. "Yet I feel no need to take chances,"
Dalamar nodded his assent and after Lucien had dismounted, he descended with gracefully with the litheness of his people.
Once Lucien had released him of the shackles, Dalamar stretched, feeling the cramp in his arms and legs fade.
Following Lucien down the gully towards a small brook, Dalamar examined the man ahead of him. He looked no older than thirty summers certainly. His cheekbones framed his clearly defined face and he was lean but not skinny, unlike Dalamar whose body showed all the signs of drug abuse and starvation. Thinking about the drug made the dormant cravings inside him raise it's head hopefully. Damn. He'd have to do something about that. In the middle of the wilderness his chances of finding skooma were next to nothing. Wrenching his mind away from the skooma he called out to Lucien who was filling his waterskin from the brook.
"You never told me your story Lachance,"
Stoppering the waterskin, Lucien fixed his eyes upon the youth.
"Tell me what you know of the Dark Brotherhood, Bosmer,"
He walked back up the gully with the now full waterskin, Dalamar following thoughtfully behind.
"They say that... It is guild of assassins, if you kill someone they come to you in your sleep." Dalamar stared at the other man. "It's how they recruit new members,"
Reaching their resting place, Lucien lay back on the grass and closed his eyes.
"So it is,"
Dalamar sat down near him and continued to stare.
"You said you were a murderer..."
"And so I am,"
Dalamar glared at him.
"So what? You're a member? Stop being so cryptic Lachance!"
Lucien cracked open one brown eye to meet his gaze. Dalamar met his cool, calculating stare unflinchingly.
"Know this Bosmer. Every Dark Brother and Sister is a child of Sithis. He whom we call Sithis has many other names. Chaos. Doom. Discord. Sithis is the Void. We of the Dark Brotherhood serve the Night Mother, who is the bride of Sithis. The Night Mother rules her children with a terrible Black Hand. The Black Hand is the ruling body of the Dark Brotherhood. It is made up of one Listener and Four Speakers. Four fingers and a thumb, if you will. I am a Speaker for the Black Hand... Part of my duties as Speaker is to seek out such individuals that show promise and offer them membership into the guild."
By now both of Lucien's eyes were open and searching Dalamar's face intently. Dalamar scowled and looked away.
"Whatever you're implying, I'll have you know that I ain't never killed anybody," He choked slightly, "Not in cold blood anyways,"
"Would you though?"
When he got no reply Lucien continued.
"Do you know what it's like to hold the power of Life and Death in your hands Bosmer? It is incredible, a gift from the Dread Father Himself."
Dalamar suddenly found himself face to face with Lucien's boots. Standing he faced Lucien's gaze head on, an impressive feat considering he barely reached the man's shoulders.
Lucien smirked, a strange look in his eyes.
"I can offer you everything Dalamar, payment, shelter, food, a family... Or if I wished it, I could kill you where you stand,"
Before Dalamar could draw breath, there was a black dagger at his throat. Lucien ran the tip leisurely up underneath his chin, gently forcing Dalamar's head back.
"In one hand I hold Death," He whispered, his voice almost a caress. "And in the other I hold Life," He held up his left hand empty for Dalamar to see, and then extended it towards him. "It's your call."
Determined hazel eyes locked with brown. Without breaking his gaze Dalamar grasped Lucien's left hand.
"I choose to live,"
Lucien smiled. Drawing the dagger away from the elf's neck he placed it in Dalamar's left hand before gripping it with his own.
"Welcome to the family."