Author's Notes:

Hey guys! Here is the next chapter! Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. Just a quick heads up: I won't be updating the story so frequently now because I'm constantly traveling now. Doing quests, becoming an adventurer. (Protect your knees!) But I promise that they will be really good quality when it does come up on . Oh, and for those who are wondering how to pronounce Solir's name, it's actually so-LEER...not SOLE-err. Anyway, you can read it in your mind any way you want. And keep those reviews coming, that would be lovely! :3

Airbendergal

Chapter 21: Tables Turned

"Marcurio."

The mage raised his eyes slowly. Still on the bench where I last saw him, he sat in a still-defeated stance. All his confidence had been stripped away from him, and what was left was the shell of a sad man. At the sight of me, there was a glint in his eye. His head turned up, his nose almost pointing to the sky. "Solir, you're back," he said, his eyes glassy.

"We have to leave, now," I told him. "Let's go."

"If it's more thieves work, you can count me out," he spat.

"It's not about the Guild," I retorted. "It's about my father. They've found his caravan."

Marcurio's amber eyes widened. "Since you've paid your fee recently, then I guess it's alright to join you," he assured himself, standing up. He dusted his robes, and then his hands. Cupping his left hand into the air, little sparks started to birth from it. "Alright. Lead the way."

We took off on Savihk and made our way for Whiterun. Marcurio was silent for the first part of the trip, and I could sense the skepticism that permeated from him. We rode through the yellow trees, gliding across the highroad, the muffled gallops echoing under us. "You're awfully quiet," I commented, hoping to get an answer.

"That's because I'm coming up with a good reason to why you suddenly decided to turn your back on the Thieves Guild," Marcurio said, making tighter his arms around my waist. He leaned closer. "Why did you betray them?"

"I didn't betray them," I replied, glancing back at him. "This won't take so long. They won't even notice I'm gone."

"I do hope you're right about that," Marcurio said in a sour note.

"But this isn't the biggest news in the Guild," I continued. "Our own master betrayed us. Mercer Frey fled the Ragged Flagon with all the riches locked up in the Vault. He used his Nightingale powers to break into the Vault unnoticed."

"Nightingale? What's a Nightingale?"

"It's a long story," I said, steering the horse rightwards so we could cross a bridge. The dirt then turned into polished stone. "This Karliah woman is actually the good guy. She had been framed by Mercer himself. Now we're off to find him. We actually visited the College of Winterhold…" And I looked back and saw him flinch.

"Winterhold, you say? Never been a really good place," Marcurio commented. His tone was flat, uninterested. "Snow there all the time."

"Did you study there?" I asked him, though I had already known the answer.

"Yup," the mage nodded, grimacing. "But I bet you already knew that, didn't you?" He poked his finger into my side. I slapped his hand off where his pointer dented my armor.

"Alright, fine." The man had seen through my act. "I've met a few people there. They told me you dropped out of the college. Why?"

The horse had glided into a stop on the bridge.

"Not the greatest story," Marcurio said, looking away. "But you've told me your story, but I'll tell you mine. You know, my family's never been the best family in the world. Father and my brothers are all in the military, fighting for the Legion, and my mother's in Cyrodiil running our business. They never really valued the Arcane Arts. Said it was a waste of time. But I loved magic. I heard the College of Winterhold was the best there was in Tamriel. So I told my parents I'd be off fighting for the Legion in Skyrim. I went to the College instead. Taught myself everything I could, and I was doing so damn well. And then, after two years of constant lying to my entire family, my brother found out that I was studying instead of swordfighting. He told my father and mother, and they were greatly angered. I never had the gusto to go back to the college again. I dropped out, called it a day, and went to Riften hoping all my problems would be solved…but all that drinking, spending the money that my mother sends me every month…it's all for naught. All I've been doing was running away."

There was a silence. At this, I felt sympathy for the mage. Who knew that behind the façade of the great Marcurio was a broken man. He was running away, just as I did. We were all runners: Karliah, Marcurio, even Mercer. We all wanted to run away from our problems, hide our real selves in the shadows and hopefully make others see the side we want them to see. Marcurio wanted to be a wizard who stuns all, but in the end he stunned himself. I wanted to be great and trustworthy to the Guild so they could lend me their hand, but when they did I took advantage of it used it for my own selfish reasons.

"Solir, we have to get going," he urged. "The sun will be up soon."

That was when I realized we had not gotten anywhere at all. I looked down at Savihk, patient and docile as a lamb. "You're more than you're worth, Marcurio," I told him, hoping to get his confidence back. A man with no purpose in life can't fight. "You're the greatest wizard companion for me." I grabbed the reins and jerked them backward. The horse reared and kicked the air in front of it. The started in a fast trot, and then turned into a mad dash. The wind was blowing in our faces, our cheeks rippling from the airstream.

Marcurio was silent yet again, but not for the same reasons as before. Now this silence was one of contentment. I could see from my side vision a little smile crawling up his thin lips. "Thank you, Solir," he said in the most honest voice I had ever heard from him. "And you're the best…erm…never mind." And after that he followed it off with a little chuckle.

By the time we had reached the Whiterun plains, the sun was just above the Jerall Mountains. We took the southern road, as Delvin had plotted on the piece of paper he gave me. It was a map with the route of my father's caravan marked in deep green ink. The dotted line that stretched from Riften to Helgen was the route we were to take. There was a point of intersection between the two lines, and that place was the place we had to be in at exactly the right time to catch Scipio. We rode to the top of a gorge. Below us was a crack in the earth, the highroad from Helgen to Whiterun. This is where the carriage would supposedly pass. We waited there for hours, hungry and cold.

"Aren't you worried about the people you left behind?" Marcurio asked.

I looked at him, guilty. "I am, a bit," I admitted. The last part though, was a lie. I had worried about them too much. Now I was torn apart between Mercer and my father. Mercer could have gotten off to anywhere right now, but so can my father. If I didn't catch him now, we would miss the only opportunity to kill him where he stands. If he had gotten back to the Imperial City, it would take strength and too much time to get there and slash him in his bed. This job had to be done quickly, and in time to get back to Riften.

I supposed killing my father would be just like killing another person. It may have sounded easy to say at first, but I could never really condition myself to do it that time. I was distracted with all the chaos the Theives Guild had given me. It was as if I had to solve all their problems myself. It was as if I was their leader, as if I was a Thief Queen. They would be disappointed when I returned, that was for certain, but I was hoping and praying to the Divines that their reaction would not be so harsh.

"This cold is unbearable," Marcurio complained, rubbing his hands together and shoving them under his armpits. "I'd rather be sitting next to a hearth with a belly full of mead."

I nodded in agreement. I turned around and peered over a boulder. I saw the bottom of the gorge, but the road was empty. The path was trekked by a few elks and foxes, but nothing else. I went back to my original position and leaned on the boulder. Marcurio edged closer, curling up into a ball. "Come close, we can share heat," he opened his arms, beckoning me to be embraced.

"Are you joking? No!" I exclaimed. "We need to focus."

"How can you focus when it's freezing cold?" Marcurio retorted. "Fine, I won't give you my special hug. Just sit here so it'll be a lot warmer."

At this, I agreed. I moved over next to the mage, putting my side against his. And it did feel warmer, but only by a bit. My hands were still freezing, and I was rubbing them terribly. "That caravan should be around the corner by this time, Delvin said," I told Marcurio, my breath drawing white wisps. I could feel his torso moving up and down as he breathed heavily. "According to this thing, the Ezelino Armaments is making a delivery to the Jarl Balgruuf. My father delivers the weapons himself. He says it's good for customer relationships. If this thing is really telling the truth, then he'll be here, and soon."

Just on cue, we heard the clippity-clap of horses' hooves and the sound of creaking wood. We both got to our knees and crawled towards the edge of the cliff, and peered down into the gorge. A single caravan was making its way through the highroad, its canvas carriage cover plowing in the wind. The carriage wobbled side to side, and the tired-looking horse walked with unsteady footing. My heart stopped when I saw our company's logo on the side of the carriage. The Ezelino Armaments seal, a dragon with a sword in its mouth.

"That's it, my father's carriage," I pointed. I was breathless. "You remember what the plan is?"

Marcurio nodded. "Yes. Just give me the go signal."

We stood up at the same time. Marcurio took his position at the edge of the gorge, while I rode with Savihk to make my way to where the mouth of the gorge opened up into the Whiterun plains. I galloped fast down the hill, almost carelessly. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins. I put on my Thieves Guild hood. I was conditioning myself to kill Scipio Ezelino.

I drove the horse right into the middle of the highroad to block the incoming carriage. It was still distant, but I noted that it was a man driving the caravan, which was good. The vehicle slowed down, to a point where it looked like it wasn't moving. Quickly, I drew a coin purse from my side and scattered gold around me. Gold. The very thing that lead to his downfall, would now lead him to his death.

"Now!" I yelled. My voice echoed into the gorge.

A firebolt flashed down from the sky. Like a meteor, it fell, and crashed into the caravan. The flames licked the canvas, tearing and reducing it into ash. I rode with full speed into the deluge, jumping over a line of fire and into the circle of inferno. The carriage driver tried to flee, running over to the back of the cart, but I pursued him. The dark figure circled the cart, grabbing a molten long sword from the smolder. He raised it up and swung it at me, but I quickly dodged it. Taking out my elven sword and I lunged at him, but he parried and counterattacked. The heat was consuming us now. I hooked his leg with my foot and yanked it forward. He fumbled backwards, and I mounted him, quickly putting my sword to his neck. "Scipio Ezelino!" I cried, the words almost exploding from my mouth.

"Please…don't kill me!" pleaded the carriage driver.

My heart sunk when I realized his voice was far from my father's. I lowered my eyes to get a better view of the driver. My eyes widened. It was definitely not my father, but one of our workers. He was Markus, the frail and lanky smelter boy, barely in his teens. This was no monster. "Where is Scipio?"

Fear was pouring out of his dark eyes. "H-He had to t-turn around to c-collect the second b-b-batch…" Markus stuttered, as tears inched down the sides of his face. "Please d-don't kill me. I d-d-don't want to die!"

"What second batch?" I asked, still trying to keep an air of a bandit. "Answer!"

"J-Jarl Balgruuf ordered s-seven carts of swords," the now pale boy replied. I pulled the sword two inches back so he had more room to breathe. "S-said a civil w-war is coming and that W-Whiterun had to b-be r-r-ready…"

"A war?" I said, confused.

All the frightened boy could do was nod. "P-Please, d-don't kill me!" he repeated over and over again like an incessant buzz.

I stood up, and the boy wriggled out under my legs. He was bloodied and soiled, and he had told me enough. I was losing my patience, and fast. I was devastated that my father was not there.

A rage unlike any other started to form n me, as if the dragon souls themselves had awoken inside of me. I grabbed Markus' tunic, and lifted him up, and tossed him aside with inhuman strength. The frail boy rolled across the ground, putting out flames. The burning cart, ablaze in the middle of the road, stood there as the one and only representation of my father. "FUS RO DAH!" The voice unleashed a massive blue wave that wiped out the caravan. It rippled across the passage, making the ground shake. The large cart tumbled across the road, and the horse along with it, neighing wildly. The weapons went flying into the air. The fires blew out at an instant. When the sonic boom's last sounds had trailed away, a great ditch was left in its wake, leaving a disastrous scene that only a hurricane could have made.

I fell to the ground, sobbing. Hot tears welled out of my eyes. My trembling hands dug into the dirt. I was furious, and more than that, overwhelmed by the emotions that rained down on me like a hailstorm.

Anger and revenge.

Was it really worth it?