Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of Oblivion or any characters, plots or other elements there within, and I gain no monetary profit from the writing of this story. I do claim responsibility for Elowyn Demark and one or two random characters scattered throughout the story.

Chapter 10

Shadowmere trotted to a halt several yards from the ramshackle buildings and Elowyn checked her map with a frown. "This must be the place," she mumbled as she slid from the saddle and appraised the rotting woodwork and partially collapsed roof of the main structure. "What a dump."

Shadowmere huffed a bored sigh and lowered her head to tear at the lush grass beneath their feet. Elowyn left the horse to graze and wandered toward the unhinged front doors. "I guess I just expected more from the infamous Priory of the Nine…"

One of the doors had collapsed inward, the old wood stained by centuries of weather beating, and very carefully Elowyn squeezed through the gap. She did her best to be silent, but the rotting floor creaked and groaned ominously beneath her boots. "Hmm…" she murmured with nervous amusement, "hope there's nothing waiting in here to kill me…"

Surprisingly, she was greeted only by dust and silence, and after a heartbeat she relaxed her grip on her sword's hilt. Her eyes adjusted rapidly to the dark interior, faint rays of the midday sun piercing through a few breaks in the ceiling provided the only light, and she recognized the broken shapes of ruined furniture and tattered wall hangings. The unusual floor to her left caught her attention.

Crouching, she smoothed the dust aside with one gloved hand until the outline of a tiled pattern was revealed under the filth. The design was familiar and after a moment she dropped her pack to the floor to rifle through the mess inside until she found the book she sought. Sir Amiel's journal was faded and warped, the pages crumbling so that many of the passages were all but indecipherable, but there on the tattered leather cover was something similar to a starburst pattern, just like the one on the floor.

She bent low again and blew away the fine dust to give herself a better idea of what she was dealing with, and that was when she noticed the odd indentation in the very center of the floor. On a whim, she tugged off her glove and removed the worn ring from her middle finger – Sir Amiel's ring. The stone signet fitted perfectly into the indentation, and Elowyn stumbled back in surprise when the floor gave a mighty rumble.

A broken chair behind her nearly sent her sprawling, but she managed to keep her feet as she stared dumbly at the shifting floor. With a great whoosh of stale air and dust, the stones ground against one another thunderously until a descending staircase was formed before her, leading to a dark, cobweb strewn doorway below.

"Okay…" Elowyn let out a slow breath and tugged her glove back on, "this is just way too easy."

Despite the growing knot of worry in her gut, Elowyn drew her sword and cautiously pressed open the door to the basement.

Yet again, nothing leaped out at her. Only dust and darkness lay beyond, and with a look of mild amusement, she moved through what appeared to be a training room with a small forge in the corner.

"Too easy," she repeated in a singsong tone into the thick air.

The only other doorway stood in the back of the training room. The hinges squealed painfully loud as the door opened to reveal a surprisingly well-preserved tomb.

The air was cold, unnaturally so, and the leathery stench of ancient corpses was oppressive. Elowyn's skin crawled even before the torches lining the walls burst into flames of their own accord, startling her. She could smell them, the ghosts, and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled madly as she approached the center of the room.

"You…" The disembodied voice came from somewhere to her left, but Elowyn could see nothing but empty air. "You have come. After all this time…the Nine have called you here. But are you worthy…?"

"Um…" Elowyn swiveled her head in all directions, but still saw not so much as a ripple of movement, "probably not?"

"We shall see." A shape formed before her, only a transparent, shimmering outline of a man for several heartbeats, then his form slowly solidified. The ghostly Imperial knight gave off a faint, ethereal glow, and a frown lined his proud face as he looked Elowyn over from head to toe. "You are the one the gods have sent?"

"Well," the Redguard began though she was a bit irked by the distaste in his voice, "unless they want my horse to be their champion, I'm the only one here."

The Imperial scowled. "Forgive my rudeness, but you are a…" Elowyn braced for his next words, "well…a woman."

The "woman" blinked. Of all the things she had expected to hear – vampire, daedric consort, murderer, madwoman – that was not even something she had considered. "Really?" She stared down at her chest in mock disbelief. "By the gods, you're right! How could I have not noticed before? The breasts are a dead giveaway, hmm?"

The spirit before her did not look amused. "Your quick tongue will not serve you here, chosen of the gods. If that is who you are." He offered her a stiff bow and introduced himself. "I am Sir Amiel of the Knights of the Nine, sworn protectors of the Crusader's artifacts and all that is good and righteous. And you, woman, whomever you are, will be tested. Immediately."

Steel rang sharp against steel as swords were drawn all around her, and Elowyn took a quick step back and readied her own weapon as she observed the other ghostly knights materializing from the shadows. "Best each of us in honorable combat and you shall be proven worthy." Sir Amiel's eyes glittered threateningly in the darkness. "Fail and you shall die. Prepare yourself."

"Yep," Elowyn muttered grimly under her breath as the first knight advanced on her, "too easy…"