Author's note: Thank you, mike166 for reviewing! It's good to know that you like my style. Now it's time to completely wreck that nice frame of mind by... switching tenses and not doing it very well!
I don't think I will ever be completely satisfied with this chapter, but I just wanted to get it up so I could start the writing flow again. There will be revisions later (probably), but for now, it is what it is.
Due to recent technical difficulties, I haven't made any headway in anything (usually I try to write at least once a day). But my computer is back and working now, and I am going to continue to try for once a week updates, or more.
I'm always open to receiving feedback! It's good to know what works and what doesn't, so if you have the time, please drop a review!
Disclaimer: Not mine
Káno carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Faendal didn't even realize it until recently. After all, what with all the wandering, adventuring, and flat out drinking they do, it's no wonder that he even sees it at all. But now, little things are noticable. Most recently, Káno proposed a trip to Markarth. Faendal agreed, since he had never been to the city before, and they took a wagon. Markarth is, without a doubt, the most beautiful city that he's ever been to, and the towering stone fortress almost made him forget that they were in the middle of a civil war. So far, Markarth is mainly untouched by war. Being on the other side of the continent from pretty much everything, and shrouded in the impenetrable mountains that surround the city has its advantages.
However, as their luck would have it, everything went horribly wrong the minute they set foot inside the city. They had both gaped once inside the walls, marveling at the architecture from up close, but as they had done so, there had been a scream. Káno had immediately drawn his sword, and Faendal himself his bow, and they had turned to find the source of the noise. Right in front of them, a woman stood, silhouetted in the early evening light. Her back was to them, face turned towards the setting sun, (night always comes early for Markarth), and she had fallen backwards, a reddish stain spreading on her torso. And almost out of nowhere, there had been a man. Faendal remembers that. He had appeared, right after the woman had fallen, and had begun to scurry away, knife in hand. As he did so, the two guards usually on post at the door had materialized as well, nobody having noticed them come closer in all the commotion. The man had been felled, the area quarantined, and all the questions that they had asked were deflected with practiced ease. However, Faendal had also noticed something that no one else had. In the moments following the murder of the woman and subsequent death of the man, Káno had stopped and searched both bodies.
That had come to a head later, when a strange man had stopped Káno just outside the tavern, asking to meet them later through a note he claimed to have dropped. Káno, the self-sacrificing idiot, had not seen pending disaster and had gone. So now they are working on finding out the conspiracy behind the Forsworn. No big deal, they get jobs like this all the time. They might not pay very well, and might get them both killed in the process, but neither Káno nor Faendal mind that. There's something else, though. Back in Markarth, Káno went to go check something out down at the "Haunted House", while he stayed in the bar. Káno, an overly prompt person (except for when it comes to the millions of jobs that he has piled up), didn't come back for nearly a week.
An entire week.
And when he did, he was sweaty, covered in grime, wounded, and toting an eerily glowing mace. Faendal didn't ask where it came from, but he regrets it now. Because Káno's face grows pained when he looks at the axe. And shadows have lurked under his eyes for weeks now, despite the fact that they are resting. Clearing out as many Forsworn camps as possible doesn't seem to help either, which is odd. Neither does clearing Read Eagle's tomb, which he would've thought that Káno would perk up at.
Then they start moving up through the country. Clearing out Forsworn camps on the way, and killing a LOT of dragons seems to help a bit, and for a while the shadows go away.
Then they make a mistake.
Káno knows that he attracts dragons like Khajiit attract skooma dealers, and he knows that it's not safe to go to town. But they're running dangerously low on food, as well has space to store the accumulated treasures that they've picked up along the way. So they make the decision to stop by a small town in order to pick up some goods and get rid of others. And the moment they enter the town, two dragons swoop down out of the sky and begin raining hellfire on the town. Faendal isn't too worried about their chances of survival. After all, they have all the town guards on their side, the dog, himself, and of course, Káno. However, the dragons don't make it easy on them. One spits ice, immediately sapping one's strength. The other, flames.
The combination of the two attacks is enough to almost kill him, and enough to force Káno off a steep embankment and into the river. Káno's head disappears under the river's current, and all Faendal has time to do is cry his name before the dragons attack again. Finally, after several minutes of hiding and shooting, he manages to get it on the ground. By now all the guards are gone. He doesn't want to know where. Káno, too, is missing. Faendal and the dog keep attacking, the dog running straight up and biting at the dragons, and himself shooting from the shadows. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a movement. Káno crests the hilltop and surveys the scene, taking in the state of the village, the dragons, the dog, and Faendal. The elf sighs in relief as he appears, and continues to fire arrows. Káno, he sees, has pulled out his bow and begun to attack as well, the force of his shots visibly rocking the dragon that he chooses to shoot at. Soon, the ice-breathing dragon follows to the ground, swiftly followed by the other. Faendal almost laughs in relief, then stops. Káno, rather than coming up to Faendal with a healing spell, as usual, has instead stopped on the path leading into the village and is staring at something only he can see. As Faendal gets closer and begins to turn the bend, he starts to see what Káno is looking at. First a foot, then a leg, then…
He stops in his tracks, staring. Two people are lying on the ground, in a crumpled heap. He watches in shock as Káno drops next to them, and begins to frantically check for heartbeats. After several minutes of this frantic scrambling, he stops dead. Then leans back on his heels. Faendal watches nervously as his face drains of any color, and all of a sudden, the shadows are there again.
The next few days are trying. Káno doesn't speak unless it's to tell Faendal something about whatever they're fighting. They seem to be on a path up the coast, though he can only tell by the stars and other such natural signs. After all, Káno is the one with the map. Their fights seem shorter now, and more gory, fleeting almost, as if . Káno still fights like a demon, but Faendal notices something slightly different about it. He's not sure what. There's just some difference, other than the lack of speech. It's as if someone moved everything in the house a couple inches to the right or left. There's something off, but he can't pinpoint what. Then there's the mace, still glowing as ever, the shadows, the pallid color of his skin. None of that is what's wrong, though. Káno seems to be getting over it, though, and a few weeks pass without any incidents. Whatever is off about him seems to be fading, and soon the feeling of "wrongness" is almost gone.
When Káno up and leaves, however, he realizes that his assumption was very wrong.
Afternote: This shall be continued.
