Thanks to my Betas, The Stann, Golden Soldier and that Anonymous Lore-Master.

If you have any comments or thoughts please put them in the reviews. I will take any criticism on board and try to improve future chapters.

"Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." Confucius.

Chapter 10 – The Blades

Adrya

205 4th era.

Storm looked up as Adrya entered the circle of light cast out from the small glowing campfire.

You said you were a good hunter. Storm snorted and flicked his nose towards the single dead rabbit Adrya held in her hand. I could probably catch more than that, and I don't have claws, fangs or even hands.

"I am a good hunter," she said, laying the small animal's corpse on a flat rock by the fire. "The area around here has barely any game left in it. I had to look for nearly an hour before I came across anything that moved. Someone or something must have been killing a huge number of animals for year or so to cause this large a drop in the amount of game, especially at this time of year."

She took her hunting bow of her back and put it down a safe distance from the fire. She then walked over to Storm and took out the knife that she kept in her old bag, which was now tied around his upper back. She strolled back the rabbit and knelt down in front of the flat rock, her steel plated boots digging into the mud.

She started to skin the rabbit: carefully cutting along its spine. She stopped when her knife reached its head. Something doesn't make sense, she thought to herself.

"It's strange." She said to Storm. He looked up from the grass he had been eating and she took this as a sign to carry on talking. "I haven't heard of any movement of big armies in this area in more than a year. Neither the Stormcloaks nor the Imperials have taken claim of Markarth. There was that Forsworn escape from the prisons but that was only a small group. Besides those savages probably ended killing each other in the end."

How come neither of the armies has made a move for Markarth? Both would benefit greatly from it. The Imperials would gain another stronghold and a strong source of silver. And the Stormcloaks would not only get that but also a position from which they could easily attack Solitude.

Adrya wiped her fore head with the back of her hand and continued to skin the rabbit. "In theory, taking Markarth is a brilliant idea for either side. But that's just it, 'In theory'. Markarth is most well defended city in the whole Skyrim and one of the best in all of Tamriel.

"If for some reason the Stormcloaks decide to move their army to the city and try to siege it, they wouldn't be able get more than two steps out of Windhelm before the entire Imperial legion would know and be on their way as well. The Imperials would probably let them get to the city and begin sieging before making their immediate presence known, at which point the Stormcloaks would try a full frontal assault on Markarth, so they could use the city as a defence. The Storm cloaks would lose maybe half their army before they realised it was hopeless and have to turn round and face the Legion that would be camped right behind them. The Legion would slaughter every single one of them and then be praised as Markarth's saviours.

On the other hand, if the Imperials moved for the city they would be on a timer. They would have to take the city within at least two weeks by conventional starve-out tactics, or try a forced invasion. Neither is likely to work at all, and by the time the two weeks were up, the Stormcloaks would just do the exact same of slaughtering the entire camp, who would be pushed against the walls and possibly half gone, and in turn be praised as liberators of Markarth.

Either scenario is highly unlikely anyway. Both armies were severely weakened four years ago when the Imperials made a direct attack on Windhelm. They thought that because Ulfric had used a lot of his army in an attempt to help the Drago-Colden- capture a Dragon. It turned out that Ulfric had retained a large portion of his army and so the two had met in open combat right outside Windhelm. The Legion was pushed back but the Stormcloaks lost a lot of men as well."

By the time she had finished her monologue; she had skinned, gutted and cut up the rabbit into two even pieces of meat and its heart. She took three sharpened sticks and put a chunk onto each one and stabbed the opposite end in to the ground surrounding the fire.

How come you're so good at military strategy and how do you know that's what they would do? Storm turned his head so that one of his pure black eyes was staring at her intently.

She frowned at his question. "I don't know, I guess that one on one combat isn't too different from huge battles. It's just looking for an opponent's weaknesses and taking advantage, whether that is attacking a weaker flank or punching a man's broken wrist. And that's what is most likely to happen because that is best option for either force in those circumstances."

Maybe that's what the Stormcloaks would do, but you're forgetting that the Legion has access to imperial battlemages, which would make the siege much easier. Never underestimate a fireball to shake both foundations of a city and the people's morale as well.

She shrugged in acknowledgment. "Honestly, I would never think about Magic as a way to attack a stronghold. It may look dangerous and it probably does affect morale, but can it really do any damage to the city itself?"

Of course it can. The spell needs to be quite powerful, but nothing that three or four reasonably capable mages couldn't do. I've seen first-hand how much damage that kind of magic can do to a city.

"When?"

During the opening of the Great Gate, when the Trenine brothers had already entered and were trying to find the Sigil Stone, Martin, Robin Slovine and I were left to defend against the Deadric armies that kept spewing out. We held for as long as we could before we were pushed back to the city. The Deadra bombarded the city with fire ball after fire ball. Large portions of the walls were lost before the Chrom managed to shut the gate. He lost his brother as Bruma lost fifthteen guards and four civilians.

Storms thoughts turned from comprehendible words into a stream of sadness and sorrow. Adrya decided that it was probably not a good idea to push any further. She had learnt about the Oblivion crisis when she had been a child from her mother, but it had always seemed like something that had happened in the past and it had no effect on her now, but listening to Storm talk about it really made her realise what it must have been like for the Champion of Cyrodiil Chrom, who lost both his twin brother and Martin Septim, the last of the Septim Emperors, in the matter of a few days.

She came back from her lamentations and pulled her mind away from Storm's thoughts slightly, to the smells of cooked meat. She pulled the sticks out of the ground and laid the other two down on the slab of stone and then began to rapidly consume the first one. It wasn't exactly brilliant, but she hadn't had wild game in a while and it gave her a good sense of nostalgia of times past.

She finished all of the pieces before rolling out her blanket and laid down staring up at the sky. The stars shone brightly above her as she drifted into a sleep filled with visions of horses leaping over city walls and head butting a high elf.

She awoke. She slowly opened her right eye and looked up. The sky was still dark and the stars were still overhead. In the corner of her eye she could see Storm sleeping soundly. Why am I awake?

Then she heard it: a light tap of a bare foot being lowered on to the partially dry mud very near to the left side of her head. She slowly opened her left eye. She was greeted by the site of a sword point hovering right above her eye. Even though the dark obscured the majority of their face she could see the sword wielder's eyes go wide.

She lunged to the side just as the sword point drove down towards where her eye had been a second before. She reached up and grabbed the would-be assassin's hand before they could pull it back with her left hand. She pushed the sword down in to the ground and used the spin to drive her right fist into their face.

Adrya had overextended and so her opponent simply swept out her feet, which were barely holding her up. She fell backwards and let go of their hand, letting them manage to take a few steps back. Adrya rolled backwards as soon has she hit the floor. She looked towards her opponent.

The man had stepped back into a shaft of moonlight: allowing her to see what he looked like. He was of average height with the beginnings of a beard. He was wearing an animal skin around his crotch and no other clothing. He had dark hair and dark eyes. Across his naked torso and arms there were what seemed like an endless amount of scars: crisscrossing back and forth. But the man could not have been any older than seventeen.

She had heard stories about the Forsworn before but she had never seen one up close before. However what she saw was more like savage than anything else.

Adrya glanced round and saw that she had rolled near to where Storm was getting up. She reached inside bag and pulled out her ebony dagger and saw that the man had done the same: pulling out a little dagger that looked like a miniature version of the sword stuck in the ground between them. More like a stick with bone spikes jutting out either side along the spine.

What's going on? Who's the man?

"Nothing special, tried to kill me. I won't take long." She replied. The man looked confused and like he was considering the possibility that he had tried to murder a crazy lady, but she didn't care.

She stepped forward and held up her dagger in both hands, forming a small defence. He gripped the dagger in his right hand leaned forward. He took a step forward.

Suddenly, the savage broke out and ran straight at her dagger swinging from his right. She brought her dagger round to defend, but the strike never made impact. As she had brought up her dagger he had switched it over to his left hand. He had the point straight at her and drove it towards her chest.

If she had thought for even a moment more she would have died. She swung her arms from left to right and diverted the dagger before it reached her heart. She left out a hiss of air as one of the bone spikes stuck into the side of her fore arm.

With both of their weapons out of the way, but their bodies too close for any kind hand to hand combat, she fell back on one of the first she had ever learn. She smashed her fore head straight in to the man's open temple.

Both of them staggered back, the man blinking in attempt to stop the dizziness. He managed to regain his footing just as Adrya's dagger flew towards him. He ducked and his eyes flickered up as the blade soared over his head. It was for no more than second but it was all she needed.

His head, almost sluggishly, turned back to see Adrya barrel straight into him. He landed on his back and Adrya made no hesitation of pushing down on his throat with her gauntlet. The man scratched at her arms and her face. But that didn't stop her from using all of her weight.

Slowly, over what felt like hours of staring into his eyes, his attacks became subdued and slower until finally he stopped. Only, when the last traces of life had finally disappeared from his eyes did she finally stop.

She pushed herself to her feet as she heard Storm's thoughts. Are you alright? He sounded concerned. She waved her hand dismissively.

"I have killed before, you know. I'm fine," She said walked over to where her dagger was embedded in a tree. She gripped it in her left hand and pulled it out; small splinters falling to the ground.

I meant your arm. He flicked his snout to indicate her fore arm. She looked down and saw that there was a small trickle of blood coming from the cut on her arm.

"Oh." She walked back to Storm and reached into her old bag. After a few moments of clumsy rummaging with her left hand, she felt her fingers brush past a vial. She curled her fingers around it and pulled it out, careful to not break it by accident.

Once she had the potion in her hand, she pulled out the cork with her teeth. She then carefully washed her fore arm with the red liquid. She hissed slightly as the potion stung her muscles. She saw the dirt from the blade wash out of the wound.

She stopped pouring and replaced the cork, once all of the blood had been washed away. When she was sure it would not leak she slid it back into her bag.

Not to worry you or anything, but aren't you meant to drink healing potions?

"Yeah, but that's not a normal healing potion." She took his silence as a prompt to explain. "I don't know how it really works, but that's what I was told to do and that's what I've always done. It heals me so I don't bother trying to explain it."

Ok… you better get some sleep. We should carry on tomorrow morning, but until then I'll take watch.

She shifted her grip on her axe slightly so she didn't put too much stress on her right arm.

Adrya looked around at the chamber she was stood in. The roof didn't exist at all and walls were just rock. There was an empty chest in the middle of the room for no reason. But the thing that caught her attention the most was the strange symbol on the floor and the huge head carved into the wall.

When they had woken, she and Storm had walked for a few hours before they had come across the mountain that the grey beards had been talking about. Storm had said he did not want to go in, something about horse instincts and indoors not mixing well.

She walked around the symbol: towards the head. She knocked against with the flat of her axe. The sound that came from it told her it had to be hollow. She placed her hand against it and pushed it. It would not budge one bit. She placed her ear against it and strained to hear anything.

She was about to try pushing again, when she heard footsteps from behind the face. She ran back a few metres and turned, falling into a combative stance.

The face lifted up and outwards, revealing three warriors. Each one was wearing the same chest amour, boots and gauntlets: which looked like they were made by layering small plates one on top of the other. The head warrior had no helmet on and she could see that he was a bald, dark skinned orc. The two behind were both khajiit, although one had a hood on.

The orc stepped forward and raised the steel sword he had in his left hand: aiming the point at Adrya.

"Go away." The orc didn't elaborate further. He didn't need to.

"I want to speak to the Blades." She said. Neither of the khajiits made any kind reaction to that.

The orc replied, "Maybe. But the Blades don't want to talk to you." He lowered his blade and strolled forward. When he was right in front of Adrya's face he repeated, "Go away."

On reflection Adrya, never really understood why she did what she did next. She had tried many times to explain why that particular thought had entered her mind, and many more times to figure out why she had done it anyway. All she knew was that it seemed like the only possible answer.

She leaned her head back slightly. She took a short intake of breath. She pursed her lips.

And then she spat in the orc's face.

The look on the orc's face would have made her fall in to hysterics in any other situation. She decided that now that the orc was pissed off, she might as well use it to her advantage.

She barrelled in to the dumbfounded orc and he landed on his back. She used her speed to carry on straight to the khajiits and the open entrance. The hooded khajiit reacted faster: clawed his hand and she saw the beginnings of a fire spell spinning in his hand. He pulled back his arm and threw the spell just as Adrya dived to the side. She saw the face fall down back into place as she flew.

The spell flew past her head. She rolled and jumped back to her feet so that the other khajiit was in the way of the mage. The khajiit had a steel mace in his right hand a circle shield made of the same material as their armour.

He wasted no time and lashed out with the mace in his hand. Adrya flat of her axe to deflect the thrust and swung the bottom of her axe at his head. He ducked and bashed up with his shield: forcing her to stand back. She stepped back but gave the khajiit to chance to pull back the mace. She let go of axe with her right hand and punched him square in the face.

He staggered back, but Adrya gave no mercy. She charged straight forward and kneed the warrior in the crotch. He groaned and fell to the floor, but not before scratching her face.

She spun round just in time to see a very angry orc run at her. He swung wildly and Adrya jumped back. He continued to slash at her and she was forced to step back again and again.

Finally, she felt a thud as the back of her legs hit the chest. There was a spread of dread that washed over her as the orc swung down on to her, a maniacal grin on his face. She ducked to the side, just before the orc would have killed her.

She twisted her body and swung her axe down on to the orc's open wrist. The orc tried to pull out his sword but it was stuck and so Adrya's blade smashed onto his gauntlet. She saw that the gauntlet stopped the axe from cutting his skin but there was a sickening crack as the orc's fore arm snapped. But it wasn't the only thing to snap.

The head of Adrya's axe stayed where it was but the shaft carried on going until it hit the floor. She stared at her broken weapon and the only thing that she thought was: Vilkas is going to kill me.

Blood dripped into her eye from the mark streaking across her face. She wiped the blood out of her eye and flicked it away with her left hand. She looked up at the last warrior, with her broken axe shaft in her right hand.

But the khajiit wasn't looking at her. He was staring at her blood which had landed on the symbol on the floor. It was sizzling, bubbling and, worst of all, spreading. Soon a huge circle was stained red with her blood.

Then there were lights. Who could forget the lights?

The whole floor shook as the circle began to break apart and each part spin in a different direction. Eventually the floor reassembled itself.

Adrya looked up to see that the face in the wall had moved up again. But it was the last thing she saw before she was hit in the chest with some green spell.

"-attacked my men and you still think I want to talk to you. You're lucky you're Dragonborn otherwise J'zargo would have hit you with a fire bolt not a paralysis spell." Her interrogator said. She had introduced herself as Delphine, Grandmaster of the Blades. The spell caster, J'zargo obviously, hissed at her. Also present was the other Khajiit, who Delphine had called Kharjo, the orc, named Ghorbash, and an old man called Esbern, who kept asking for Delphine to speak up.

"I'm trying to find-," her excuse was cut short as they all turned towards to the entrance of the hall. Adrya strained against her binds. There was the sound of many footsteps and loud shouting. Kharjo stood up just as seven Forsworn burst through the open door.