Author's note: So, I have reached chapter four at last but note the lack of reviews :( that could mean either my story is so bad, no one can find the words to describe such a crime to literature, or it's so amazing all readers are left speechless. For the sake of my ego i shall believe the latter XD. Enjoy!

"Concentrate."

Linny squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating harder than she ever had before.

"Visualise."

She obeyed, soon lost in a daydream of amber, red and gold. The colours danced together until a small ball of flame materialized behind her closed lids. "I see it!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"Good," he nodded in approval. "Keep the image in your mind. Now open your eyes."

Once again, the girl complied. Slowly, so as not to break her concentration, Linny raised her closed lids, the living quarters of the dark cave now know as home greeting her eyes.

"Raise your left arm, palm upwards," the quiet, authoritative voice continued.

His novice did so unquestioningly. He had been training her for several weeks now, the progress slow to start with, but since conquering the restoration spell it had sped up considerably. She was now perfecting the fireball spell and finding it a little difficult-not surprising considering she was attempting to make a fireball materialize in the palm of her hand. So, stood up straight with her hand raised to chin level, Linny awaited her next instruction, already feeling the tingle of anticipation flow through her veins.

"Now, are you concentrating?" her teacher asked, a hint of light teasing in his tone. She nodded enthusiastically. "Close your eyes and visualise the fireball once again."

Her eyelids dropped and it took less than a second for the vibrant hues of the flame to reappear.

"Now, slowly open your eyes, keeping the fireball in sight the entire time."

Linny did so, trying with all her might to burn the image of that enticingly destructive orb onto her retinas. Her spirit sank at the sight of the empty palm before her, but the sound of her instructor's voice brought any self pity to a grinding halt.

"Focus, Linny, focus."

A hint of frustration clouded her emotions, but she followed his instructions, her emerald eyes squinting. For a brief second, she thought she saw a flicker of dim light just above her outstretched palm. She tried again, her forehead dampening with perspiration from the ferocity of her mental exertions. Once again the amber light flickered, but managed to hold for a couple of seconds before sputtering out. A spark of excitement dashed through her, temporarily breaking her concentration.

"Focus!"

Her concentration snapped back into place and she tried once more, this time feeling a tremor of energy reverberate in her brain. Travelling down her throat and shoulder, it trickled along the length of her arm. When it reached her palm, it was joined by a sudden wave of heat, uniting in a blast of flame emitted from her fingertips. She yelped, more from surprise than pain and a soft chuckle came from her teacher. She brought her trembling hand closer to her eyes for inspection before sucking her fingers, immense fascination and confusion painting her features.

"I do believe," he commented, still chuckling. "That was your first fireball."

000

Fire swims through me. The pain is excruciating, but I am powerless to stop it. Lashings of flame whip my neck and shoulders and my skin feels as though it is being stabbed by thousands of needles. Wind rushes past my ears, but after some time I realise they are pained gasps escaping my throat. Moisture runs down either side of my face and the gasps are joined by choked sobs, the movement of my vocal chords against my parched throat only adding to the torture. Just as I am ready to beg the person nearest to end my life, something blessedly cool absorbs into my skin, seeping through to my muscles and eventually into my veins. It travels the length of my body, granting glorious relief from my suffering. Within a few minutes, the fire is extinguished completely and I can finally rest.

It is several hours before I wake once again and, rallying the last of my strength, I force open my eyelids. Each one feels like it is made of lead and the effort leaves me exhausted. A pair of greyish-blue eyes is the first sight to greet me. Mental focus is beyond my capacity for the moment and I spend far too long just gazing into them, lost in the multiple shades of colour they contain. A cold breeze brings an unfortunately-familiar sound to my ears. Despite not having heard it for some time, it is immediately recognisable and deftly pulls my attention from the eyes above me. A groan is wrenched unintentionally from my throat and the brows framing the eyes crinkle in concern.

"What is it?" asks a soft, deep voice, identifying the eyes' owner as male. "Has the pain returned?"

I answer with a shake of my head, a motion that rewards me with several jolts of pain in the back of my neck. But I'm about to be is my mind's silent reply. The woeful sound that has managed the impossible feat of lowering my already despondent mood is now loud enough to mean the cause is on my immediate left.

"Is she awake yet?" asks Baurus.

What in the name of all that is good and holy is he doing here? I want to scream at my annoying shadow, but weakness prohibits me.

"Only just," replies the other man.

"I need to speak with her."

Anger has given me an energy boost. Whilst shaking my head furiously, I manage to hold my arms up to keep him back. My distress is plainly evident and the other man immediately ushers Baurus away, informing him that I am in no fit state for talking just yet. My saviour soon returns and sets about wiping my forehead with a cool, damp cloth. After a moment, he enquires as to the identity of my 'friend'.

"A pain in my backside that has yet to find a healing spell strong enough to dispel it." The sourness of my tone is a little stronger than intended, but the skin encircling the slate blue eyes crinkles with mirth. "What happened? Where am I?" My subject change is not subtle, but I do not care.

"Allow me to finish your healing and then I shall answer your questions."

I nod and close my eyes once more. Another wave of refreshing cool hits me and I actually notice a marked difference in comfort as it finishes its healing journey. I open my eyes, and, while not yet able to do somersaults and cartwheels, I feel much more alert. The pain is considerably lessened now too and I carefully lever myself up into a sitting position, the arm of my healer around my shoulders a considerable help.

"Would you care for some food or drink?" he asks.

This is my first proper look at his face and I am struck by an odd sense of familiarity, especially in those eyes of his. I nod distractedly and he raises himself from his knees to head off somewhere behind me. I get a brief view of my environment and find myself sat on a blanket in a row of three other people. The person nearest me is a young man with a bloodied bandage wrapped around his head. He lies with his eyes closed in the same position as I was previously and it is hard to tell whether or not he is alive; his breathing so shallow his chest barely moves. The two other casualties are female-one elderly and the other a child. The elderly woman, her arm in a sling, seems to be comforting the child. I have to pull my gaze away quickly from the little girl. The left side of her face is horribly scarred and a stump wrapped in cloth remains where her forearm should be. The smile on her little face makes the scene all the more heartbreaking.

Approaching footsteps draw my attention and a small plate of dried meat and bread lands on my lap, a cup of water set beside me.

"Eat up and I shall answer your questions," says the healer, sitting cross-legged before me. I comply and a loud grumble from my stomach declares just how famished I actually am.

"You are currently sat in the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch."

I look around me and find that I am indeed inside the stone walls of a small chapel. There are quite a few people huddled in small groups together, all looking battered and weary. Despite their sorry appearances, the atmosphere is a mixture of joy and anticipation. I spy several glances my way, with a few people waving a greeting to me. I look at my companion, confused. He gives a small smile.

"It seems we are in your debt and you have acquired the new title of Hero of Kvatch."

I blink in astonishment before the city's name brings a tidal wave of memory to me. The rush of images and sounds running through my mind makes me dizzy. The man running towards me, urging me to flee. The soldiers dodging the attacks of imps. Savlian Matius flying to the ground after a fireball attack. The Oblivion Gate. I shudder involuntarily and refuse to focus on the rest; there will be time for that later.

"How...did I get out?" That is the only part of the experience I cannot recall.

"That I cannot answer. You were carried in here yesterday by your friend over there. From what I've been told, it seems you somehow managed to close the cursed thing." An expression of disbelief and awe flashes over his features before he quickly composes them.

Our talk is interrupted by heavy footsteps and I look up to see the unwelcome face of Baurus looming above.

"Perhaps now you are in a fit state to talk?"

I make no attempt to hide the displeasure on my face, but know the sooner it is out of the way the better. The healer heads over to his other patients, allowing Baurus to take his spot opposite me.

"What are you doing here?" I demand rudely.

"You didn't think Jauffre would appoint the task of delivering the heir to the Empire solely to you, did you?" His unfriendly mockery ignites a flash of anger inside me. "I was sent to ensure you completed the task."

I knew it! Although I was unaware of anyone following, I had suspected some kind of test behind the request. So much for giving me a chance, eh, Jauffre?

"Unfortunately," continues the red-skinned Blade. "I was too late to stop you entering that Oblivion Gate, otherwise I would have prevented you from doing something so foolish."

"I didn't do it on purpose," I protest, my head bowed to stare at the floor. It only annoys me to look at his face.

"Well, whatever happened, you were quite a mess when you left it. Your back was alight and you were clutching a black stone in your hand like your life depended on it. Luckily for you, I was able to get you to Brother Martin in time."

That name has my head whip up, almost causing whiplash. "Did you say Martin?"

Baurus nods.

"Was he the one talking to me just now?"

Another nod, with a little confusion added this time. I look over to the people beside me, but the healer isn't there anymore. My heartbeat quickens and I scan the chapel's crowd furiously to find him.

"What is it?" Baurus asks, his gaze following mine now.

"It's him, the heir. Brother Martin is the heir," I say, dropping the plate carelessly to the floor beside me. In my haste to stand, a wave of giddiness makes me stumble and fall back down. Baurus, of course, offers no assistance as I try again. This time I hold an arm out to use the chapel wall for support, my eyes scanning the crowd for Martin once again. I see him by one of the large entrance doors speaking to a small group of survivors and stagger forwards to reach him. With a sigh, Baurus comes to my side, placing a hand on my arm to halt my progress.

"Wait here," he commands. "I shall speak to him."

He is gone before I can protest, leaving me no choice but to wait. Watching the scene avidly, I see Baurus initiate conversation with the priest. I grow impatient as they talk, wishing I could see their faces properly to gauge how the conversation is going. Eventually Brother Martin turns away from Baurus and heads towards me. When his face is close enough for me to study his features properly, that familiarity I felt before turns into comprehension and as his uncanny resemblance to the late Emperor dawns on me, I wonder at not seeing it before. Age him thirty years and I would swear I was back in the Imperial Prison, speaking to Uriel Septim himself. There is more anger in Martin's features though as he approaches.

"Is this true?" he demands.

Taken aback by memories of my brief encounter with this man's real father, it takes some time for me to register the question.

"Y-yes," I confirm, wary of his fury.

"But that is impossible," he exclaims. "My father was a farmer and I am just a lowly priest. This cannot be right!" He sinks into one of the pews nearby, looking in my direction, but registering nothing.

Countless emotions flit across his face and I awkwardly lower myself to sit beside him, trying to ignore the aches and pains that accompany the effort. After a while his eyes meet mine.

"I don't suppose," he asks with a wry smile. "There could be another Brother Martin residing in Kvatch that you are confusing me with?"

I shake my head. "Too much of a coincidence, I'm afraid," I say, my heart swelling with pity. I cannot imagine how it would feel to receive such a revelation. Although, given my lack of a past, perhaps it would be a relief for me to finally know where I come from. Considering of some of the bizarre moments I've encountered in the last couple of weeks, however, perhaps I am better off not knowing.

"We cannot linger here much longer," says Baurus as he joins us. "We must make haste to Weynon Priory."

Martin looks up at him. "Before I can go anywhere, I need to tend to the sick and ensure the other survivors are safe."

"My...um...Your Highness," Baurus seems a little uneasy for a moment and I try hide my amusement. "With all due respect, we need to get moving. She-" He jerks a thumb in my direction. "May have closed that gate, but more will open unless we get you away from here."

"Me? What has that gate got to do with me?"

"They came for you," I answer for Baurus. "Those Daedra must also know who you are and I'm sure it will take more than the closure of one of their portals to stop them."

"But I can't just abandon these people here!" the priest cries, a hint of desperation in his voice. It is plain he doesn't want this new responsibility thrust upon him. I cannot blame him.

"Trust me," interjects Baurus. "The best thing you can do for them is leave."

Martin releases a huge sigh, burying his face in his hands. I rise from my seat and stand by the Blade.

"Perhaps we should give him a moment," I suggest in a whisper.

"We don't have time," is his impatient reply.

"The man has just found out his entire past is a sham, is the heir to an empire and Daedra have attacked an entire city because of him. We owe him a moment or two to think at the very least."

Baurus reluctantly agrees and we move a little way from Martin as he processes this life-altering information we have delivered. It is nearly fifteen minutes later when the heir finally rises from the pew and walks over to us.

"All right," he lets out a breath to brace himself. "I will go with you. However, I must say my farewells."

I look to Baurus and he nods his agreement. The sorrow following the news of Brother Martin's departure is ample testimony of the love these people have for him. Another wave of pity washes over me, but there are other things for me to worry about.

"What happens to me now?" I ask my 'guardian'. Incomprehension clouds Baurus' face.

"Now that the heir is found," I elaborate. "What happens to me? Do I go with you to the priory or make my own way in the world?"

"Jauffre instructed me to return you to the Priory." He fixes me with an icy expression. "Until we know what to do with you."

His ominous words make my blood chill and I hastily unlock myself from his mistrustful glare. When Martin has finally concluded his goodbyes, he grabs a large satchel resting by the chapel's altar before standing by us.

"Lead on," he commands.

000

This is my second journey to Chorrol with Baurus, but the presence of a third party member eases the discomfort somewhat. Much of the journey is spent in silence, but as we near Weynon priory Martin approaches me.

"It has occurred to me," he comments as he hikes beside me. "That you saved the lives of everyone in Kvatch and I have yet to know your name."

I take a deep breath before answering. "Linny," is my eventual reply.

"Well, Linny, it cannot even begin to convey the gratitude I feel for what you did, but I want to say thank you."

I accept his thanks with an awkward nod and we spend the rest of the day's journey in silence. I am not oblivious to Baurus' ear wigging in on our conversation, either. It is not until later that night that he confronts me.

"Recovered some of our memory, have we?"

I hadn't heard him approach and the sudden sound of his voice makes me jump. I spin to face him, a precarious tone all too evident in his words.

"That name you've given yourself-what is it?"

His prolonged silence makes me realise he is waiting for an answer.

"Linny," I reply, begrudgingly.

"It is very much like the word that assassin in the prison said to you."

"What of it, Baurus?" I snap, my loathing of this man coating his name with acid as it leaves my mouth.

"I am just wondering why you would pick that as a name."

"I don't know! Martin asked for a name, I have no idea what it is and that was the first thing that came to mind."

Baurus eyes me for some time before stepping towards me until his face is barely inches from mine.

"Mark my words, Linny." His distrustful eyes bore into mine and, for the first time, I am afraid of him. "I will learn the truth about you."

I glare at his retreating form, trying to contain the trembling threatening to overwhelm my limbs as tears well in my eyes. 'Not if I do first' I promise myself.

000

The clash of metal greets our ears as we arrive at Weynon Priory. In the blink of an eye, Baurus has unsheathed his sword and to my right I see Martin has followed suit, albeit his weapon is smaller than the Blade's. Baurus refused to return my weapon to me in Kvatch, so I am left completely unarmed. This terrifies me as I see a man with skin the colour of night race towards us, a couple of assassins hot on his heels.

"Help! You must help! They're killing everyone at Wey-" His words are cut short by a blade through the neck, a wet gurgling interrupted by the distorted howls of his executioner.

Baurus immediately heads for the assassin. Martin, noting my lack of weapon, pushes me behind him as he raises his own defensively. His palm shoots out at the foe barrelling towards him and bolts of what look like white fire shoot from his fingertips. The enemy plummets to the floor and, with a deft swipe, Martin decapitates it. Both bodies revert to a red-robed human form, just as they did in the prison. Trepidation weaves up and down my spine as Baurus scopes for more enemies. When positive the way is safe, he signals us forward with a wave of his hand.

A dark shape lying on the steps leading to the priory's entrance catches my eye and I walk over to it, immediately regretting doing so when I see a large pool of dark burgundy liquid oozing from it. I instantly spin away from the sight, pre-empting my bloodlust as I know I need to keep any strange behaviour from Baurus. I call out for the other two. The Blade crouches down to observe the body and I slowly step away from the scene.

"It is Prior Maborel," he confirms, a tinge of regret in his voice. He doesn't need to tell us Maborel is dead.

A shout and more clashes of blades has the heads of all three of us whip in the direction of the small chapel beside the Priory. Baurus and Martin go first, with me closely following. Inside we find Jauffre fending off the attacks of two more assassins, the bloodied body of another monk bent awkwardly over the back of one of the pews. Age obviously hasn't made Jauffre any less adept with a sword as he ends the life of one assassin, its companion soon following after coming into contact with Baurus' weapon. Martin has positioned me behind him once again and this protectiveness seems to be a strong personality trait of his.

"Oh, thank Talos you've returned!" the elderly monk exclaims.

"What happened?" Baurus asks, relief flooding his features to see the master of his order safe.

"We had no warning," Jauffre explains as he wipes sweat from his brow. "I was praying in here when I heard Priory Maborel's shouts. I was lucky I could get armed in time." Sheer panic suddenly floods his creased features. "The Amulet! That must have been what they wanted. It was in a secret room in the Priory. I can only pray it is safe." He sprints out of the chapel doors.

The atmosphere is thick with anger and distress as I enter the hidden room, leading off from the library in which I received my task of retrieving Martin.

"They've taken it! The Amulet of Kings is gone! The enemy has defeated us at every turn!" His words are unnecessary after seeing the thundery expression on his face. When Baurus brings Martin forward, Jauffre's hopes seem marginally raised. "Then all is not lost." He bows his head and the younger priest's countenance screams his discomfort.

"What do we do now?" asks Baurus.

"Well, Martin's safety is our number one priority," answers Jauffre. "This atrocious attack means Weynon Priory is no longer safe. We have to get him somewhere to regroup and plan our next move."

"But where in Tamriel is safe? I mean how did the enemy even know of the Amulet's whereabouts in the first place?" Baurus' eyes flicker to me before returning to his master.

"The enemy has many spies," Jauffre concedes and this comment has Baurus eyeing me once again. "And nowhere is truly safe, but some places are more...secure than others. The hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma, is one such place. A few men can hold it against an army. We must travel to Cloud Ruler Temple."