Chapter 10

Approaching Windhelm from the south, Aldric's mood grew darker the closer they got. They would take the most obvious path to Raldbthar, along the icy waters of the River Yorgrim, and it was already resurrecting unpleasant memories. They were practically a stone's throw from the first night he'd curled up, naked and warm, next to—

Abruptly, he shook his head, forcibly trying to divert his thoughts from the path they were taking. Dwelling on the past was a good way to distract him, and distractions meant mistakes.

For now, he focused on remembering that he was angry with the Khajiit brothers. Raj and Khal, they called themselves, though Aldric suspected that they'd given false names.

Raj was the more dangerous-looking of the two. His fur was a dark, nearly black color, and his eyes shone the pure green of spring leaves. A long, jagged scar ran across the flat bridge of his nose, and three smaller claw marks decorated the spot under his right eye. Half of his right ear was missing as well.

Khal looked to have avoided the kind of damage his brother had not. Aldric wasn't sure if that was due to greater prowess or level-headedness. In any case, he did not look like Raj at all, which sparked a new suspicion in Aldric that they were not even related. Where Raj was small and dark, Khal was taller and covered in white fur striped with silver. His golden eyes were tranquil.

"For the last time," Aldric gritted out, jaw clenched, "that armor is not going to work. As the captain, I set the terms."

Both the brothers were outfitted in flawless steel plate armor. It was clearly a point of pride for the pair, as each scratch had been buffed out, each dent fixed, and each piece polished to perfection. The style of the shoulder plates spoke to an older set, but one couldn't have told that by looking at the condition.

"Thjizzrini," Raj muttered, waving his hand.

"This one has surely weighed the benefits of light and heavy armor," Khal said smoothly. "A dwarven ruin should not be entered without protection."

"Many dangers lurk inside, clicking and crawling," Raj added. "Steel will protect soft bodies where leather and hide will not."

"And steel will cook you alive if you're caught in a fiery trap," Aldric shot back. "You'd be steamed like fish if a Centurion cornered you."

The brothers looked at each other.

Raj smiled, showing sharp, white teeth. "You can assure us that Centurions will be a challenge to face?"

Shor's beard. "If you're clanking around in full plate like that, then yes. You'll wake a Centurion."

"This is acceptable," Khal replied. "Long have we wished to take on one of the contraptions." He knelt to the ground and searched inside a knapsack, pulling out a book.

Aldric took it. It was Herbane's Bestiary: Automatons. He shut his eyes. A copy of the book was stored on a shelf in his home in Falkreath. The tome was legendary for describing a harrowing battle the author had fought with a giant Centurion.

"Say you do make it through the city unscathed," he proposed. "What of the cavern? Sound will be your biggest problem to overcome."

Khal chuckled. "Your financier made it known that you sought warriors. Strong ones. In my brother and I, you have a double-sided coin. I am Do'Khal, Suthay-raht, born to be a fierce and capable fighter." He laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Rajhin is Suthay, born under a black sky when both moons were new. He is named after the god of stealth."

Aldric fixed him with a flat stare. "And that is somehow important enough to make a difference."

Khal opened his hand at him, as if it were obvious. "Vaba. It is."

"The Nords have words for this one," Raj said. "Dar'renrij. Thief scum mercenary."

Khal grinned at his brother. "Nords. Hat aratataami."

Aldric inhaled slowly through his nose, stifling his frustration. "Once we reach the cavern, we will operate as a team, but you will largely be responsible for your own hide. You mean to tell me you have no worries about losing a leg due to the sound you make?"

Raj shrugged. "Jah eks skra'iv. Gold fixes everything."

Brynjolf had been silent up until now, but he grinned then. "They have you there, lad."

"Krimir, Aldric," Khal cajoled. "Smile. Mokoh Khajiit. Do not worry about us."

Aldric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Let's go."

He led the way down the road, past the bridge to Windhelm. Brynjolf walked at his side, and the two brothers followed. To their credit, they did make very little sound behind him, but the wintry sky had the tendency to feel as if it muffled the air around them.

High above the road, a Shrine of Talos looked solemnly out into the distance toward the city. Twigs waited for them underneath it, his arms folded around himself to ward off the cold. Like any Nord, he was accustomed to it, but he was also thin enough to feel the bite, even through the long-sleeved leather cuirass he wore.

Raj and Khal greeted him exuberantly, and Aldric watched, bemused, as Twigs exchanged pleasantries with them. He shook his head while the brothers teased him.

They hiked west, following the river, to where the outer structures of Raldbthar still stood. Instead of crossing the bridge to the north side of the water, Aldric kept to the south side. The first few miles were traveled in silence, with only the gentle sounds of their footfalls.

"You still will not tell me what you've been contracted to find, will you." Aldric spoke without looking at Twigs.

He could see the young man looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry. I need to be the only person worrying about what we're after. I want everyone else to concentrate on nothing but what they have been hired for."

He gave a wry smile. "A good argument, but you forget that I am the captain. You don't need to tell anyone else, only me."

Aldric thought Twigs might crack when he was silent for a moment. His internal struggle could practically be scented on the wind.

"No. I won't."

Instead of being angry, he actually admired Twigs for his resilience. It took a lot more bravery than most people were willing to admit it did, to stand up to someone older who was demanding something from you. "You're a stubborn little mouse, aren't you?"

"If I'm a little mouse, what does that make you?"

Aldric turned in surprise to him. Twigs' superior height seemed to be more imposing than usual as he looked down at him. Just when he seemed to run out of nerve, the confidence in his eyes starting to waver, Aldric barked a laugh.

"Good for you, kid, good for you."

They made it to the city in decent time. It had been a long while since Aldric had trekked a good distance—uphill through snow, no less—out in the wilds, and he was pleased to find that his stamina and speed were largely unaffected by the years that had passed.

"The others are waiting where you told me to leave them," Twigs said. "Kaspar spotted three men near the entrance. You said you've cleared this location before?"

"Bandits have short memories." He looked up at the mountainside. "Raj, Khal, follow Brynjolf and Twigs up to where the rest are gathered and wait for me."

"Where are you going?" Twigs frowned.

He pointed to the natural rock structure framing the upper and lower entrances to Raldbthar. The gray, jagged face of the mountain jutted through the otherwise snowy landscape, and already he had determined that they held suitable footholds for him. "There."

"Why?"

Aldric wanted badly to put all the blame on Kaspar for suggesting the idea, but he had accepted it, after all. "Call it a friendly competition."

Even Brynjolf didn't look pleased, but they drifted away up the steps set into the snow. Halfway up the ancient stairs, there was a wide, circular platform shielded from the patrols of the bandits by a small stone outcropping.

Kaspar met him there, his face already showing telltale signs of excitement. He grinned widely at Aldric. "You are ready to climb?"

"No," he replied, "but I'll follow you anyway."

"Do not worry. I am a natural at this." Kaspar pulled a pair of well-worn leather gloves from his belt and slipped them on, flexing his fingers.

They left the group and headed west. Kaspar stopped and faced a rather steep hillside, leading up into the mountains. Aldric could see the tops of trees further up, indicating that the ground leveled out.

Wasting no time, Kaspar dug the toe of his boot into the hard-packed snow and hefted himself up, using hands and feet to ascend. Aldric mimicked him, annoyed that his fingers went numb after only a moment or two.

After they'd reached flatter ground, Kaspar stopped him with a touch on his shoulder. He pointed ahead silently, and Aldric saw what he was looking at.

A healthy-looking frost troll had claimed the small bit of level snow for himself, patrolling his territory zealously. He ambled back and forth, grumbling and hooting as if he were talking aloud. After a few rounds, he turned his back on the two and sat himself down in the snow, contemplating the landscape ahead of him.

Kaspar darted past him, heading east for the first peak of rock to climb. Aldric rolled his eyes and followed, keeping one eye on the troll as he did.

He scowled as he watched the scout scuttle up the mountain face. The younger man was lighter and more agile than Aldric, and he felt like a cave bear chasing after a spider in comparison.

After climbing up as far as he could on the snow, he grabbed the first rock and pushed off the ground. The Blackguard boots he wore were flat on the soles, which was an advantage for silence and stealth, but lacked grip. So Aldric went slowly, wedging his feet into the gaps and fissures between the rocks.

Halfway up, he paused to judge his progress. They had passed the lower structure of Raldbthar, and he saw his team gathered far below on the platform. The wind snatched at his hair and blew fine flurries of snow into his eyes, but he was too focused to let it bother him. A fall from this height would mean more than a broken leg or arm.

He climbed until he was level with the entrance, and pushed on a little further until he could scramble on top of the old, bronze domes. Aldric stepped through the snow, aiming at the lip of one dome, and swore the second his feet made contact with the metal. It was coated in ice, and his boots lost traction immediately.

Grabbing desperately at the top of the dome, he dug his fingers into the grooves worn into the metal. The leather of his boots squealed against the cold surface, and he fought for purchase, his knee driving into the dome with a hollow thung.

Aldric blew out a shaky breath. "Remind me never to climb with you again," he grumbled.

Kaspar watched him with a grin. "You have alerted the lookout."

He crept over the top of the dome, slowly poking his head over the edge. The man directly below them, pacing the entrance to the ruined city, had drawn a one-handed sword and had his head on a swivel.

Kaspar pulled out his bow, a simple one used for hunting, and nocked a steel-tipped arrow. Carefully taking aim, he let out a long breath as he released the string. The arrow found a new home between the bandit's shoulder blades.

"Not bad," Aldric complimented him.

"Thank you."

There were only two other men watching the area, and Kaspar took each of them out with expert, well-placed shots.

"I'll have to tell Aela about your skill when we return," Aldric told him with a wink. Nocturnal had truly been on his side when the huntress had turned out to be away on an assignment when he stole Kaspar from Whiterun.

"Do not boast too grandly," Kaspar responded, his face going serious. "That woman's sense of competition frightens me sometimes."

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that why you hunt alone, instead of with her?"

"I must!" His brows shot up. "She led us into the hills of the Reach on one trip, trying to best the shot I'd taken, and the Forsworn—"

They were interrupted by a distant shout from below. Both Aldric and Kaspar looked down. Most of the platform the team waited on was obscured, but he could pick out the tiny form of Tinúviel, standing on the edge and waving her arms. Aldric strained his ears.

"Oi!" she yelled again.

Twigs rushed to her side and pulled her away, bending his head in a way that suggested he was berating her.

"She is impatient," Kaspar noted.

"She wants to impress me, and Brynjolf." Aldric rose to his feet.

"That is not a bad desire."

"No, it's not."

Kaspar had the tendency to say exactly what he meant, and he observed things very honestly and plainly. On the surface, those qualities made him appear simple—almost childlike—but Aldric regularly found himself impressed at the profound nature of the things Kaspar said.

As Aldric followed him down to the surface in front of the door, he reflected on how much he'd missed the scout. The two of them had become fast friends after meeting at Snowpoint, and it wasn't hard to wonder why.

Kaspar seemed to go through life with the philosophy that he should always be as happy as possible. For him, at least, it seemed to be a conscious choice to let problems roll off his back like water from a stone. It was an infectious attitude, and it was almost impossible to be in a foul mood around Kaspar.

As they made their way back to where the rest of the team waited, Aldric noticed Kaspar idly rub at his left shoulder. Five years ago, a giant had surprised the two of them while they were running as their beasts together, and it had badly injured Kaspar. It was something that he still felt guilty about.

"Does it still pain you?" he asked.

Kaspar gave a quick tilt of his head and half-shrugged. "The cold makes it ache." Then he noticed the look on Aldric's face and quickly added, "It is not bad. Once I am warm again, it goes away."

Aldric kept his gaze ahead. "It should be warmer inside the ruins, but it won't be warm in Blackreach."

"That is what the brandy is for, eh?" Kaspar winked at him.

He smiled and bumped the scout with his forearm. "Keep that to yourself. I have a feeling Twigs would ransack your pack while we slept and dispose of it."

Aldric had told Twigs that he wouldn't drink while in the cavern, but he hadn't been entirely truthful. Blackreach demanded sharp senses and alertness, but there would be no harm in sharing a drink once in a while to take the edge off. Together, he and Kaspar had smuggled in two bottles of aged Cyrodiilic brandy, wrapped in several rolls of linen to protect them and muffle the sound of clinking glass.

Kaspar grinned. "Then in that case, I will protect my pack with my life."

They stopped talking once they'd neared the team. Brynjolf, Twigs, Tinúviel, Raj and Khal waited for them, along with two others Aldric hadn't met yet. Twigs had described them to him, though, and he studied them now.

Lyssa was a willowy archer, tall for a Bosmer, with white-blond hair falling in a long braid down her back. She must have been stronger than she looked to be able to, as Twigs put it, 'take the eye of a fox at thirty yards' with the Elven bow strapped to her back.

"Can you not afford armor?" he asked her.

The blunt question did not faze her. "I have never needed it. All my gold goes into the upkeep of my bows."

He eyed the belted tunic, simple trousers, and leather boots and gloves she wore. All typical of a hunter, and not a fighter. "And you felt comfortable enough to venture into a ruined Dwemer city and Blackreach beyond?"

She shrugged. "I'm very fast."

He left it at that and turned to the mage. "I've forgotten your name."

"Patric," he mumbled nervously. "Patric Farrand."

"Breton? College-trained?"

"Yes, sir."

Aldric smirked. "You don't have to 'sir' me," he said to the group at large. Then he pointed at Brynjolf. "Except you. You must refer to me at all times as 'sir.'"

"Oh, aye, I'll call you sir, all right. Right as soon as you get down on your knees and—"

Twigs loudly cleared his throat, drowning out the rest of Brynjolf's dig. Tinúviel drew her lower lip into her mouth and bit down on it, looking like she was desperately fighting a smile.

Aldric almost grinned himself, and then caught Twigs' gaze. He looked serious, his eyes holding no trace of amusement, and that sobered him. In fact, the rest of the group except for Tinúviel and Brynjolf shared a grim expression.

Raldbthar, and Blackreach, posed a very real danger to all of them—something he was reminded of once again. He felt no fear of what was to come, but he had many advantages on his side that the rest of them did not.

He knew Brynjolf suffered from an inflated sense of confidence in general, but he'd also survived Irkngthand, and he was a Nightingale. Briefly, he wondered where Tinúviel's comfort came from.

His joking mood slowly sank. He met the eyes of each person standing in front of him, turning to look at Kaspar last. The scout gave him calm, ready eyes in return.

"I have been inside Raldbthar more than once, and in Blackreach itself several times," he began. He wanted to avoid a grand speech, but the time to assert himself had come. "If any of you have been inside Dwemer ruins or caves, that experience will be valuable to you, but it counts for nothing as far as my leadership is concerned. I want to make several things very clear before we enter."

He pointed to himself. "I will be leading and in the front at all times. Raj and Khal will be right behind me, ready to deal with any threats that surface. Inside the ruin, there will be many, and sound and sudden movement will trigger them. Is that understood?"

Heads nodded.

"The spiders will not be much of a problem, but they will slash at you and some of them can deliver a nasty shock. The Spheres are the ones you will need to watch out for. They move very quickly, and fight very efficiently." Aldric gestured to Lyssa. "Even if you think you can get a clear shot, you are not to attempt to support from behind. Raj, Khal, and I will deal with them."

The brothers exchanged a quick, eager look.

Patric, who was without a doubt the most vulnerable, tentatively raised a hand. "What should we do if we're attacked?"

"Brynjolf will be bringing up the rear."

"This does not insult you?" Raj asked the thief quizzically.

"Dwemer ruins aren't the only places where nasty things sneak up on you from behind," Brynjolf pointed out, "but they're certainly the most likely."

Patric paled a shade.

"Twigs, Tinúviel, Lyssa, and Patric will be in the center of the formation. If you find that a spider has escaped our attention, I invite you to defend yourselves, but you won't have to worry about the Spheres," Aldric assured them.

Lyssa's brows drew together. "So the ruin will be the easy part?"

Aldric didn't miss the way Brynjolf closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He wanted to do the exact same. "The automatons will be a third of the worry. The other third will be traps, and the last third will be the Falmer that have encroached upon the city. I am only going to say this once—if you want to make it through Raldbthar whole, you only have to listen to me and keep your eyes open."

He could tell that Tinúviel had understood him, but Lyssa and Patric were still looking at him with confusion obvious in their eyes. The Khajiit brothers, he didn't worry much about. They were confident and experienced enough to take care of themselves.

"All right." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have not had the time or desire to train with any of you, so I have no idea how stupid you are. You're going to have to trust me. Don't do anything foolish, and we should get through this."

"Keep your eyes on the captain, and you will be fine," Kaspar added encouragingly.

Lyssa's gaze flicked to him. "Where will you be?"

"I am the scout, so I will be doing the scouting," he told her, giving her a wink.

She gave him a small, tremulous smile in return.

Aldric looked to the brothers and jerked his head to the imposing bronze doors. "Let's do this."

A/N: Boom! Surprise author's note at the bottom!

I did, and am continuing to do, a lot of research on Ta'agra, the Khajiit language. As you can imagine, there are many conflicting sources, even amongst those designated as "official." For any Ta'agra or lore enthusiasts, please forgive any errors you might spot. For everyone else, pretend I'm just the master at it.