Chapter 14: The Hunting Shadow
Many days have passed since the Ebony Bound's escape from the Imperial city. Countless rumors have risen and spread across Tamriel as fast as wild winds. Yet, none of those whispers can deter where the mages have gone. Despite the effort of the Empire, the Thalmor, and other factions, no one can locate them. Even those who worship the entities beyond the realm hunt for the trio.
Ever since the world learned of the Ebony Ring's existence, many have ventured to the abandoned tower that was home for the Ebony Bound. In hopes that the secrets to creating another ring may rest there. Time and time have Imperial Legion scared off or fought against these individuals, and still, others continue to find their way to the sanctuary. At this time, a squadron of legion warriors is making their way to the tower. Each one on horseback, moving at a casual pace when approaching the building.
"Captain?" One of the soldiers calls out. "Hasn't the Empire already confiscated the contents from the tower?"
"Of course," The leading Imperial with steel armor answers. "At least what was left of it. Even so, mages can be very subtle with their actions, including hiding any evidence. Which is what's leading so many cultists to this area."
"They're hoping to find something in the ruble?"
"Aye..."
With only a few yards between them and the tower, the captain holds his hand up to halt them. The soldiers stare silently at the chilling sight that is at the entrance. Several corpses of hooded warlocks and their thralls litter the green field at the front door. Fresh blood stains the floor and decorates the stone walls.
"What in Oblivion happened here?" One of the Imperials questions.
"It's like a wild animal tore its way straight through them," another one comments in horror.
"Impossible," the Captain states with unwavering boldness. "There's no way a single beast did this, these warlocks and their servants were too many in number."
"That's because it wasn't an animal," the first soldier says.
The Imperial on the right side of the captain raises his finger to the balcony of the tower. As they all direct their eyes to the top, a moving shadow at the top sparks their interest. Simultaneously, the captain and his soldiers step off their mounts. Moving together and with their hands on their blades, they steadily approach the tower.
Thoroughly searching at the top floor is a single man. His black and blood red attire makes him nearly invisible in the shadows. Even with the clean metal blades on his back and waist, along with the armor plating shielding parts of his body, no light glimmers from him. With his entire body layered in both leather and steel, the only feature that stands out is his hungering, orange glowing eyes. Such a bright glare makes his investigating easy.
While the room has built up a vast amount of dust since being abandoned, beneath it lies the answers, he's looking for. The shriveled tomes he cast aside are of no interest, along with the burnt pages and sketches. What he pays mind too is a simple, dirt covered cup. When lifting it from the floor, he runs his fingers inside it. Even with the leather mask over his face, the hooded figure takes a quick whiff of the scent.
"Deathbell," he recollects. "I know where that can be found."
As his mind ponders the familiar location where the herb grows, the sound of several feet moving up the stairs breaks his concentration. Even though what is coming could be a threat, he still continues with his examination. As he heads over to one of the beds, the Imperial soldiers arrive at the top floor. Their eyes instantly focus on the dark moving individual in the room. While looking at him, the intruder kneels down to the wooden bed. On the side of it is a torn shoulder cape with a wolf image dyed onto it.
"One of them hails from the city of Solitude," the dark figure concludes recognizing the symbol for Skyrim's capital.
"Halt there," the captain calls out to him. "This is an Imperial crime scene, identify yourself!"
The Imperial's words mean little to the mysterious swordsman. The hooded man continues to ignore their presence as he studies the cloak. With little patience, the leading soldier moves toward him.
"I said this is Imperial property, identify you-"
Once within arms reach of him, the stranger makes his move against the captain. In one swift motion, the swordsman draws his short blade and swings at him. In one clean swipe, he rips through the Imperial's throat without even scraping the enemies helmet. The officer falls to his knees as he clenches his blood gushing neck. His comrades watch in terror, not just from their commander's death, but from what killed him. The three remaining Imperial's cannot help but become breathless at the monster that stands before them.
Even so, two of the soldiers have a sudden burst of courage to face this threat. Unsheathing their swords, they rush at the assassin. Meeting their challenge, the stranger draws his second sword with his right hand. Duel wielding his crimson handled swords, he charges them. The Imperials and swordsman meet at the center of the room, with both sides unleashing a flurry of swings. Despite their numbers and synched attacks, the shadowy warrior effortlessly counters their attempts at harm.
The last Imperial scout flees, abandoning his allies to deal with the threat. As he rushes down the staircase, his comrades fight on. As swiftly as it began, so too would it end just as brutally. In one fell swoop, the swordsman cleaves one of their legs. As the officer's body caves, he watches as the same blade that ended his captain slices through his own jugular. Now blindly swinging in fear, the other Imperial attacks.
In one swing, the assassin hits the blade from the soldier's grips. Finally, he savagely unleashes a series of slashes across the man's chest. Bloody an beaten, the officer is defenseless against the two swords that rip through his torso and out his back. Faster than the others, the Imperial's life drains from him as he falls back.
As for the final scout, he has just made it downstairs. Fleeing for his life, he sprints to the door. However, right as he shoves the doorway open, the assassin impedes on his escape. Dropping from the ledge, the shadowy figure lands in front of him. As the doors behind him creak shut, the Imperial drips profusely with cold sweat. His body is frozen with the assassin's blood dripping sword lightly held against his neck. He dares not look away from the warrior, out of fear it will mean be the end of him.
The two are silent as they stare at one another. The officer remains idle as the assassin examines him. With his free hand, the swordsman slowly extends his reach to the scout's pouch. Without making any noise, he's able to open it and retrieve the only note within. Unfolding it with his fingers, he lets out a soft growl while reading in his head. The Imperial makes no attempt to escape or fight back during this.
"So it's just as I suspected," the stranger whispers to himself. "The Ebony Bound are heading to Skyrim."
During this prediction, the soldier notices one more detail on the killer's person. On his shoulder plate is a black handprint. Taking a soft gasp of air, the scout remembers what it represents.
"You're, one of them..." He mutters.
The assassin glares at the officer angrily. Before the man can react, the swordsman cuts him down in one swing of his longsword. Blood splatters across the door, mixing with that of what spilled from the warlocks earlier. As the Imperial corpse falls, the Crimson Reaper stands over the body. The sight of so much blood brings out an unnatural hunger in him. His eyes glow brighter as they widen in longing. The sound of the scared horses frees him of his daze. Yet, when staring at the healthy stallions, the look of thirst remains.
After a few minutes, three of the steeds are set free. As they frantically flee, one of them runs slower due to some blood loss from the fang marks in its neck. Placing his mask over his pale, unsaturated face, the assassin approaches the last one. The captain's horse has been tied to a tree. Despite the unsettling circumstances, the stallion is relatively calm. Once unbound to the stump, the Crimson Reaper mounts it. A natural handler of such an animal, he and his ride dash off into the distance. The hunter now knows where to find his prey, leaving bodies behind in his hungry wake.
To Be Continued...