Chapter 14 – Of the Past

Disappointment. Disappointment was all Z had felt over the past week since she had returned from Solitude with no answers towards who she was. She had held a foolish hope that Solitude would have held the answer to her lifelong question. Instead, it had only left her with more questions and fewer people to trust. Someone among her own family was a traitor. Someone she had possibly grown up with had lied to her for her entire life. To make matters worse, she was trapped in a war between two beings that possibly had more influence than she did in Skyrim's shadows. Not only did it mean she had to treat the Entire Dark Brotherhood as enemies, but she had to hire someone as an outside influence. Something about the writing however kept bothering her. It was slanted differently than normal, suggesting the writer was left handed. While she hadn't taken the notes with her, she had memorised them perfectly.

"Bitch! I will have your head for this!" Ternis Hlodus cried furiously, struggling against his bindings. Z looked away from the wall, turning her attention back to the struggling Dark Elf. His red eyes were furious, narrowed into dangerous looking slits. His eyes were sharp and deadly, like most of his features. Typical and elflike, with an overhanging forehead and sharp features. Z had wasted no time in binding the man above the alter in the under forge, where she had taken her first sip of Werewolf blood. She had stripped the man down to his underwear, which she had decided to leave to spare her eyes more than for the man's modesty. It didn't bother her how he appeared when he died, just so long as she gathered his blood.

"How do you expect to take my head when I have every intention of keeping it?" She asked playfully, stepping into the light once again. The Dark Elf's eyes went wide when he saw the dagger in her hand, silver highlights catching the light and shining. Z had chosen to use a regular Ebony Dagger for the sacrifice, as she didn't want to spoil the blood with her other daggers, which had seen enough bloodshed. Ternis struggled against his bonds, looking up to his bound hands before looking back to Z. She stepped forwards, gazing calmly up at the Dark Elf. The Elf looked even more surprised for a moment as he saw her, and then he began to laugh.

"You're just a woman. A pregnant woman. You are nothing! Your duty is to have that baby, and raise him to be strong. Then, when you are useless, he will put you down like the thing you are. My cows and pigs are worth more than you" The Elf jeered. The fear left his expression as he gazed down at Z, clearly considering her inferior to him. He seemed High Elf for his pride in the moment, and Z was all but ready to kill him. She didn't let on however, instead favouring him with a cold expression. The Elf swallowed, then scoffed. His mind was fighting his body. His body feared Z, feared the power she possessed but his mind considered her weaker, a woman worth nothing.

"I am the Harbinger of the Companions, Listener of the Dark Brotherhood and I am the woman who will be the last thing you ever see." Z informed calmly. The Elf looked at her for a second, as if considering whether she was serious. Z's expression did not change at the Elf's sneer, she simply took another step forwards with her dagger. Fear registered in the Elf's eyes, and his mouth fell open. His struggling increased as Z drew closer, stepping up on the stairs she had brought in so she could reach.

"Ho…hold on. Maybe we can make a deal, honey. You'd like a good shagging yeah? I'm respectable in Morrowind you know" The Elf started. His words simply disgusted Z, although she did not outwardly show it.

"Sithis, take this soul into the void and grant him what he has granted others in life. Torture this man for eternity at your feet, as he has dishonoured your beloved, the Night Mother" Z said in her perfectly cold, calm voice. The Elf began struggling violently, grunting and screaming as he tried to tear his wrists free. His toes had nothing to touch on. His body swung as he struggled, almost hitting Z numerous times. Desperation shone in the Elf's eyes as he kicked out at Z, trying absolutely anything to escape his deadly fate for just a few minutes.

"Money! I have money! Name your price, it's yours. Oh please, have mercy" he tried another offer to Z before he wailed for his life, but she was unmoved. She had no intention of letting the man escape, even though she could quite easily find another Dark Elf to drain. This man had committed many wrongs, and he came from a bloodline that had traded slaves for generations. It was enough to make her want to hunt him down and kill him. Even better, she would use his worthless life to unlock a secret so powerful she could perhaps use it for the good of Skyrim. She didn't intend to give the Elf any form of mercy.

"I will have the mercy you had for others, Ternis Hlodus" Z purred softly, grabbing him roughly by the face. Her palm rested against his sharp chin, and her fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of his cheeks. She held hard enough to leave bruises, although it wasn't going to matter in a few seconds. Tears were streaming down the Dark Elf's cheeks, dripping onto Z's fingers as she held him still. She levelled her dagger at his throat, letting the blade pierce his skin. The Elf whimpered as Z took a calm breath. Then, as if she was retreating from fire she yanked her hand back, tearing the blade across his throat. Blood went flying and the elf gurgled as his blood went gushing from his slashed throat. Z took a breath before she leaned closer, placing her lips next to his ear. She held her breath for a single moment before she used her haunting whisper.

"See you in Oblivion"

….

Z sat in the Harbinger's chair, her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her gathered fists. The leather around her hands was smooth under her chin and against her neck, which was a start contrast to the wooden table against her elbows. Even after years of Kodlak leaning the exact same way she was leaning the table still retained a rough, hardy quality. Harbingers before her had left their mark, be it the gashes in the wood from stabbing it with their daggers, or the stained circles from the ale overflowing from their mugs, left abandoned to soak into the wood and forever scar it. As Z looked down at the table she traced the history, and it was with great pain that she realised she had not left her own mark. She did not sit at this table to do anything but think. She played the part but she would have no mark on the Legacy of the Companions. Her legacy was shadows and death. But could she change it? Would her real name save her from a forgotten page in the history of heroes?

"Tolf" She greeted the man the moment a heavy footstep reached her ears. The smell of his well-kept armor was enough to make Z's nose crinkle slightly. The stuff that the Half Imperial used to clean his armor stunk, but it kept it rust free and shining. His heart was pounding as if he had run from Riften, which knowing Tolf was a possibility. The man was psychically fit, more so than most of the Warriors among the Companions. His breathing was coming in short, quick gasps as if he couldn't wait between breaths for air. This was… interesting. Whatever had him concerned was either something trivial or something devastating on a massive scale. Z turned to look at the man, noticing his hair was scruffy, as if he had just gotten out of bed. His beard was not as well kept as usual, as if he had neglected it for days. Z was personally happy Farkas didn't have a beard like that, she could remember how they tickled when she kissed a man with such a mass of facial hair.

"Dragonborn. You summoned me" Tolf informed her between breaths, his words rushed and slurred. His face was flushed, and sweat ran down from his brow. As Z looked closer she noticed his hair was damp, and his beard wasn't messed from neglect but rather from being in the process of being cleaned. With an amused twitch of her lips she realised she had interrupted Tolf during his bath, and he had made all haste to respond to her summons. Even in his haste he had obviously taken the time to put his armor on properly, that or someone had helped him. A quick sniff revealed that he had done it himself, which was enough to impress her. She had sent the note summoning him not ten minutes ago.

"Indeed. I have a mission of the utmost importance, and secrecy" Z started, allowing her mystery to enchant the Halfblood Blade. Tolf's eyes narrowed slightly, green orbs of wisdom and fire that would become dedicated to her cause in a few moments. She just had to word everything correctly; she had to play this to perfection. She knew that it would not be a mission Tolf would enjoy, but it was a task she needed him to do regardless. Everything hinged on his acceptance. She could see the curiosity come alive in his eyes, along with his caution. He was obviously unsure, but he had taken a step onto that slippery slope that Z walked on so masterfully. The Half Blood stared at Z for a moment, wondering what he should do. He knew that she would likely be playing a game, she was always calculating and changing her strategy as life threw hurdles at her. He admired her ability to adapt, although he dared not think where she had perfected the art.

"What do you need, Dragonborn? I will have the utmost tact" The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them. Z's eyes never changed and neither did her expression but Tolf got the sense he had just walked into something he really didn't want to. He brought his hand up to his left cheek, running his fingers over the scar. He had been scratched by a Daedric creature years ago, and the scar still managed to look a little fresh. People often asked him if he had the wound treated, but he knew no treatment could undo the foul mark of the magic he had survived. Rubbing it had become a habit, almost as much as running his fingers through his beard when he was thoughtful. He stood there, fingers against his scar as Z stood up from her chair. She had noticed the habits, even though she had spent a short amount of time with the warrior. When he was anxious he would touch his facial scars, caressing his insecurity and obscuring it at the same time. When he was in thought he would rub his chin, running his fingers through his beard. If he was feeling impatient he would tap his foot. Personally, Z found his most amusing habit when he was both anxious, in thought and impatient. The mix of actions was amusing to watch, if a bit distracting.

"I need you to go to Septimus Signus's Outpost, far North of the College on Winterhold, out where the Sea of Ghosts is. There is an ice cave there, and a man in there trying to unlock a Dwemer lock. Give him this object, and be careful not to contaminate it" Z said as she walked to the table. The Blade was suddenly completely enraptured with Z's words, and her actions. She lifted an object wrapped in a cloth, then carefully folded the cloth back. Tolf could only stare as she lifted the object and stared at it. It was old, green tinged wood with golden metal, the aged gold of a Dwemer object. It was also rusty and aged, with the tiny lever on it almost copper. It was four tubes combined, three of which had little needles poking out. They were bound together in a square shape, with more metal holding it together. Whatever it was, Tolf felt chilled to the bone simply looking at it. Z wordlessly offered it to him, holding it out in cautious hands. Tolf swallowed, knowing that if he showed fear the Dragonborn would pounce upon it.

"It will be done" he said in his strongest voice, reaching out and taking the object in a careful yet firm grasp. His body felt tense as he took it, and he knew without question that the object contained dark magic. Magic the Mages Guild would never have allowed. He also knew only the most powerful of mages could have done the curse. Only the most powerful mage could have bound the souls of the dead, and only the most skilled killer could have brought so much pain to their victim. He barely contained a shudder as he turned and began to walk down the hallway, ignoring the screaming in his gut. He could ignore instinct, but he could not ignore his guilt.

"Talos forgive me"

….

The Sewers of Riften smelt exactly the same as they had the last time she had been there. The waste of the city above, stagnant water, unwashed bodies and rotting flesh to name a few. The pungent smell of Skeevas were also present, which made Z screw her nose up in disgust. As a Werewolf her sense of smell was even stronger, and the stench brought tears to her eyes. Lately many things had brought tears to her eyes. Tears of joy. Tears of agony. Tears of regret. Tears of disappointment. So many tears and emotions had flooded her veins within the past few days that she had lost track of them, not that she had ever attempted to control them. For the first time she had decided to let herself feel the emotions she had dreaded, and it had been a horrible experience. It had torn into her soul; it had played with her mind and destroyed her sense of peace, and yet… It had somehow freed her. It had opened her to the possibility of finding her family, of finding herself.

"Are you sure the note says this Scar-Tail has information?" Farkas asked, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. They stood before the door that lead to the Ragged Flagon. The Ratways most infamous tavern had once been an abandoned, smelling hell hole. That was, until their mysterious guild master had come in and completely restructured the guild, built it back up from the ground and had several merchants come in. Z nodded at Farkas, stepping forwards away from his comfort as she shoved the door open. Everything went silent as she walked in, and several eyes glared at her as if she was personally responsible for everything bad that happened to them. She walked boldly through the area, looking for the Argonian. She saw him sitting at the table, looking rather comfortable with a thief Z knew as Saphire. She wasted no time in storming towards the Argonian, murder flashing in her eyes.

"You can't come in here" Dirge growled, stepping forwards and grabbing her by the arm. Z's eyes flashed with murder as she was pulled and spun. She continued with the motion, tapping into her werewolf and grabbing Dirge. He yelled in surprise as she grabbed his arm and lifted her knee directly into his gut. She then grabbed him by the belt and the scruff of his neck and threw him into the water. Everything went dead silent, save the sound of mugs hitting the ground and Dirge hitting the water with a loud splash. Z continued forwards, not even pausing to see if the man would chase her. Scar-tail didn't move, keeping his arm across Saphire as if holding her back. The anger in her eyes didn't die down when Z drew closer. Farkas was rushing after her, eyes wide in surprise.

"Back off!" Saphire growled as Z's shadow danced across her flesh. Assassin and Thief glared at each other for a moment, as if sizing one another up. Z had heard Saphire was the roughest out of any of them, but she also knew Saphire had chosen to be a thief instead of an assassin. Z had the edge when it came to killing, and both women realised this.

"How can I help you, Listener?" The Argonian asked. His voice was so painfully familiar that Z almost wanted to cry. At the same time it was typical to his species and she couldn't keep thinking about it the way she always had. Of course thoughts of Veezara came to her whenever she entered the Thieves Guild. It was as if something was trying to tell her that Veezara had come from here, or had been there. Something was telling her something and she ignored it because it was too painful to face.

"You owe me answers" Z spoke in a deadly whisper to the Argonian. His nostrils flared beneath the hood, and Z saw his shining teeth as he opened his mouth in surprise. His reaction was so quick before he spoke that it could have been mistaken for thought, but Z realised fearful surprise when she saw it. She had craved it for years, seen shock on Veezara's face several times. For a moment she thought about him and her world came caving in, emotions started to take over. Then she forced them back into their cage, only allowing anger to exist in her conscious. She reached down, grabbing a strap on the Argonan's chest and pulling him up before Saphire could even protest.

"I'm not sure how I can help you, but very well" the Argonian answered quickly, a little too quickly for Z's liking. Her brows lowered slightly in fury, and her skin seemed to go paler. The Argonian had seen the look on Z's face before; he knew he was in dangerous waters. He couldn't betray them however. He couldn't put everyone in danger because of conscious. If he could just get out of her grasp, if he could just remain hidden then maybe nothing bad would come of it. Every muscle in Z's arm stood out as she twisted, lifting the Argonian and sending him flying towards a table. A Redguard woman dove out the way as Scar-tail flew through the air and landed on the table, falling through the wood with a sickening sound as it gave way beneath him. Her felt the cold air on his face, and instantly he knew his hood had fallen off.

"Crap" was the only word that came to his mind as he saw Z's expression. The Nord's eyes went wide, her jaw fell open and her face went a sickly pale, as if she was seeing a ghost. She was. It was impossible! He was dead; she had seen his body herself. Then how? How was a very good question. Why was another one that came to mind. Suddenly she found herself questioning everything she had come to know, everything she had come to believe in as she stared down into the face of a ghost. The face of a loved one, and now a hated one. She swallowed the emotions as the Argonian stared at her, his expression deathly frightened. Only one word came from her lips, a single name. Her tone however expressed every emotion she felt, yet it expressed nothing. Everyone in the bar now felt the pain Z had felt all those years ago. The pain she had felt when she had truly begun.

"Veezara?"