Quincy Logan: Oh, anonymous flamer eh? Fair enough, you're entitled to your opinion and largely I agree with you. If you read my author's notes you'll know what I think of my chapters. A lot of the scenes are forced, I know, it's unfortunate but true. The length is an issue because someone on the last fandom I wrote for made a scene about them being too short. You're right though, completely, that I should stop when the chapter ends, not when my wordcount reaches what my mind deems an acceptable limit. I know you said you wouldn't be reading anymore, but if by some stroke of luck you do read this reply, I would like to say thank you for taking the time to read it, thank you for calling it okay (which is better than crap anyday) and thank you for voicing your opinions. I appreciate even the anonymous flamers (and I really appreciate the person who told you it was good too, whatever you may have thought about it). However you know what I would have appreciated more? An anonymous flame with a little advice on it :) ~ARTY~

Commentaholic's dad really made me smile today when I read his reply to my review. It's the little things like this that make writing all the more worthwhile. :)

Part of this chapter got deleted when my computer crashed. Couldn't quite recreate what I had, but I tried. Be as brutal as you like; truth hurts, but how else does one improve?

Lyrics Quote: Everybody wants to be a winner, nobody wants to lose their game, it's the same for me, it's the same for you, it's insane insane insane insane insane... - Insane - Texas


Chapter 29

The dead drop was in a battered old crate underneath an old bridge that was rarely used any more south of the Imperial City. The target was a psychopath, it seemed, who had murdered a family of Dunmer in Morrowind and was now living as a fugitive in a cave in Cyrodiil, just beyond the reach of the Morag Tong.

Idari grinned sinisterly as the first tendrils of light began to lick over the horizon and illuminate her dark face beneath her black hood. The Argonian had the third Soul Gem she'd promised now, along with directions to the remaining ones that he would need to make up numbers. Soon her brother would be safe.

The mine in which the fugitive resided was near Bravil apparently, the scum-hole that it was, and at least meant that she could kill two birds with one stone and guarantee the support of the count of the grime-ridden town for the defence of Bruma. She was saving judgement about which other cities would get her help until she knew where either Lucien or Martin was deciding upon sending her next. For now she was just an assassin; all this heroism was making her go soft.

She walked up the small bank to the road smoothly and approached her black stallion without fear and, though the horse made no move to do anything, she could tell that he was raring to go. The battle at Cheydinhal had proven rather a disappointment for him and he had ended up trotting back towards Fort Farragut in search of his previous master; this new master was a skilled assassin and about as good company for the horse as his previous one, but she had a tendency to disappear through those fiery portals for up to days at a time and Shadowmere was not impressed. The stallion was already moving before his rider had even had a chance to sit herself in the saddle properly, heading for Bravil and its nearby Flooded Mine.

The mark's name was Shaleez and that fact twinned with the details that she was hiding in a flooded mine showed that Idari was going up against an Argonian underwater. And not just a pathetic one this time. Fighting an Argonian underwater was about as useful as fighting an Ash Vampire in an ash storm - the odds hopelessly stacked on the wrong side - but if the Nerevarine could take on at least six Ash Vampires singlehandedly - and not just any Ash Vampires, but Dagoth Ur's personal Ash Vampires - then Idari Mortha could take on a regular Argonian underwater. Besides, all she needed was Water Breathing and then the only advantage the fugitive would have would be the ability to swim faster... She was also going to need to waterproof her armour somehow, or she would likely find herself unable to remove her leather armour ever again. Her main hope was that she would be able to catch her target on dry land; the Argonian would be taller and stronger than her, but she had taken down opponent's twice her size on dry land before, just never underwater. How hard could it be?

She did not need to spur her horse onwards for he ran at his own pace whatever she wished him to do, and the ride was not to be a long one anyway as most of the distance had already been covered during the night as she had made her way from Cheydinhal to Old Bridge. She paid not heed to the small village she rode past before turning southwards onto a road that she could still remember clearly was the pathway to the location of her very first Dark Brotherhood contract and through the wooded Heartlands with a strange feeling in her stomach. She brushed it aside, it wasn't important, but something about the way this contract was phrased had thrown her slightly...

Still, it wasn't her job to question contracts, it was her job only to fulfil them.

xxx

"You only found four?" The Argonian did not seem impressed but made no form of criticism towards the mage who stood before him. The Altmer had arrived after dusk on the fourth day but Turner said nothing on his time-keeping skills as his eyes were drawn involuntarily to the dark bloody stain at the bottom of the dark green robes his companion wore.

"There was... a complication." The answer was reluctantly given and far from what the assassin had been hoping for.

"Well we only have nine now," Turner said slowly, folding his arms in annoyance. "I went to the guild and I found two, the Hero of Kvatch found me three, but she's gone now. She's getting restless about us finding this cure too, and I think she'll turn violent if we delay much longer."

Seanturco did a double take. "'Us' finding the cure?" he repeated in shock. He knew that his finding the cure was nothing to do with her wanting it and never would be; he also found himself wondering why the Argonian was going to such lengths to appease her.

The assassin shrugged. "Well you and I are lumped in this together in her mind. I don't know what she'll do once we've completed our allotted tasks, but I hope to Sithis that there's someone nearby when we do..." The mage fidgeted uncomfortably but said nothing. "Is that blood affecting you badly?" Turner asked as gently as he could manage without sounding like a brooding female.

The High Elf shook his head while taking great care not to look down at his feet. "It affects only my conscience. I tried to wash it off, but it seems it's stuck there as a horrible reminder of the deeds I've commited to haunt me until all this is over."

"You killed somebody then..." Turner summed up with a heavy sigh. "For blood?"

Again he shook his head. "No, for a soul gem. It was petty of me and I shall regret it always. Why should a man lose his life so that I may regain mine? It was so easy to kill him but oh so difficult to avoid the blood; the sight, the smell that lingered in the air, the expectation of the taste, everything drew me into it and every fibre of my conscious mind fought against it. There is nothing I can do now except pray that this cure is worth the trouble it caused me, the actions it forced me to partake in... You can acquire a tenth soul gem, can't you?"

The Argonian considered his question for a moment before answering. "I may have to resort to theft," he said carefully. "But I imagine that I will be able to. Your 'complication' does seem rather damning, doesn't it?"

Seanturco frowned deeply and a flash of anger was clearly visible in his red eyes before he snapped in reply: "I have only the blood of one on my hands, how many countless numbers can you say are on yours?" All his anger was channelling towards the assassin before him and the scent of blood in his veins was more alluring than it had ever been before.

Turner didn't react at all, didn't even take a step away, barely even blinked, his golden eyes fixed on the red pair belonging to the vampire before him. "I have killed four times," he said slowly, calculatingly. "The first was an accident and the others were duty. I can't expect you to understand our guild, nor can I explain to you why, but disobeying orders is punishable by death. You killed out of greed, I kill in order to save my own skin." Something had changed in the assassin, that much Seanturco knew, and it had happened quickly, so very quickly, that he couldn't easily tell whether the change was going to be for better or for worse. "I may have become an assassin in order to save myself, but I am to become a thief in order to save you."

And with that said he turned sharply on his heels and strode back towards the gates of the city that the vampire did not dare to enter on account of his condition. His face was pale again now, and his cheekbones were becoming more prominent almost by the hour, his eyes losing some of the redness that came after feeding, and he had been recognised much earlier in his symptoms last time. He slumped against a tree and withdrew a small pink vial of blood from his robes; he had no intention of drinking it until the sun truly began to burn into his skin and cause him pain. Every feed was to be considered a step away from humanity, so he intended to restrict that number as much as possible.

xxx

As Evening Star drew closer around Cyrodiil and winter set in properly temperatures everywhere were beginning to drop and it was not only high in the Jerall Mountains where snow looked imminent. Here however the sky was not white with snow or black with rain, here the sky burnt like fire and the red clouds danced to their own morbid tune.

She ignored it as she dismounted her horse and approached the door that the map with her contract had pointed her to. She didn't feel a smidge of regret for avoiding the Oblivion gate for now; she knew people would call upon her to close it later in time and for now she was done with being a hero and a different, darker destiny was calling her.

The wooden doorway was partially hidden in a pile of boulders, but the entrances to most caves and mines were often found in similar places. After casting a silence spell on the hinges of the door she pushed it open and almost immediately cast chameleon on herself, shutting the timber portal firmly behind her.

A flooded mine was the perfect hiding place for a fugitive. All assassins hated a contract which involved water, mainly because of the difficulty involved in stealth in the presence of water. Water splashed under footsteps, left voids when even invisible people were present and, even if one managed to get out of the water successfully, it had a nasty habit of dripping on the floor around the potentially sneaky candidate and giving away their position via the rather obvious soggy footprints trailing behind a seemingly innocent shadow.

Idari proceeded with caution; this target was a fugitive so good at running, an Argonian so good at swimming, and a deadly opponent with a no-doubt powerful weapon. She couldn't remember a time when the odds had been so stacked in opposition to her as they were right now. She cast Water Breathing on herself and slipped as silently as she could manage into the water.

The mine was not large, the Dunmer suspected they had stopped construction when they had cut through a wall and allowed the contents of the Niben to flow inside and drown the place in its murky waters, so locating the mark was far easier than she had expected it to be. Shaleez was older than most of the Argonians she had encountered before judging by the red tinges to her scales as she squatted beside a small campfire eating what looked like a sweetroll. The target was dressed from head to toe in glass armour that glistened with the reflections of the water around it and reflected the campfire gently on its surface, at her right hip an enchanted longsword was held in a scabbard, though the enchantment itself was hard to place on account of the distance between them; the only thing the Argonian lacked was a shield and a helm, but with training the disadvantages of going without these items were somewhat negligible. Idari herself had had a habit of going into battle without armour at all when she lived in Morrowind, but that had been when she thought battling creatures was a challenge and the teenage feeling of invincibility was still felt strongly by every fibre of her being.

That was before she lost Reron.

"Who sent you this time?" the mark said suddenly through the silence, catching the assassin off guard despite her lack of reaction. The element of surprise well and truly lost, Idari pulled herself out of the murky water in a single movement and collected herself, still chameleoned, ready for battle. Shaleez laughed; it was a strangely warm laugh for one who was on the run and knew an assassin had come for them. "Do you think you are the first one to be sent after me?" The Argonian straightened and turned to face the invisible figure who stood before her in her makeshift home. "I did not expect a visit from you, however Dunmer, that is highly unusual..."

That comment had caught Idari off guard fully and she did a rather strained double take. One of the things she always made sure to keep secret was her race, and failing that she resorted to just hiding her name from anyone who did not need to know. This fugitive could not see her, she had double-checked her chameleon charm to almost the point of paranoia and there was no way that the Argonian before her could have seen what heritage she came from, no way on Nirn.

"Relax, Assassin," Shaleez reassured the empty space before her. Idari noted queerly that the word 'assassin' did not seem to be used as a generalisation, but rather as an adjective, possibly a rank. She brushed it aside; maybe this fugitive had done her research, or maybe she just had a funny way of speaking... it was an Argonian after all. "I heard your accent when you cast your spells as you arrived. I must say, not many people have the sense to cast Silence on the door these days. You do not sound like you have been in Cyrodiil for long; such dreadful news about Red Mountain. Vivec went missing... taken by the daedra during the Oblivion Crisis... His power to hold the Ministry of Truth lost... Dreadful." For someone who had murdered a Dunmeri family in Morrowind, this Argonian seemed to be showing a rather ironic concern over the well-being of the province. Still, it is not every day that such a catastrophic event as the eruption of Red Moutain occurs. "Would you like to eat and rest after your journey?"

Idari raised an eyebrow under the cover of her chameleon charm. What sort of fugitive was this? A psycopath? What psychopath offered someone sent to kill them food and rest before they were murdered? It was absurd, utterly absurd. She drew her katana silently in anticipation of the battle. "Sithis would not have me rest," she spoke, sounding as threatening as she could without entirely betraying her heritage. Though her Cyrodilic accent was rather convincing she saw no reason to use it, and this fugitive obviously had a practiced enough ear to see through her ruse anyway.

Shaleez cocked her head slightly to one side but continued to gaze intently at the blank space in front of her as if she were conversing with someone as visible as she was. "Your devotion is admirable," she said simply. "You must be a real favourite of the Night Mother."

Night Mother. How did the target know these things? Why was she so unaffected by the fact that an assassin stood before her, intent on spilling her blood? How many assassins had she fought off before, how many lives had she ended since leaving Morrowind?

Idari swung her sword. It was not so much loyalty that burned in her veins and lit a fire in her stomach, but perhaps it was regret? This Argonian had been killing her Dark Brothers and Sisters for some time, it seemed, and that was one of the tenets. Tenet Five: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Was it guilt that made her swing with ferocity? She had killed her Dark Brothers and Dark Sisters, nobody else. That couldn't be allowed.

For the first time since the arrival of the void in the air the Argonian's face was a picture of shock as she leapt aside to the sound of air being forced aside by something sharp, something dangerous. She cast a dispel enchantment to reveal her attacker, a short Dunmeri woman garbed in black leather that was streaked with water droplets that resembled tears. Shaleez met the blow with her own sword, only to have it break up upon impact as the Dark Elf cast another spell, a complicated one that was generally only used by the most advanced mages or those of a certain Great House from Morrowind... And then the one thing that the 'fugitive' had been unable to discover fell resoundingly into place; if it had been a real thing rather than a thought it would have echoed.

Who was this assassin attacking her? The prodigy. The one that Lucien Lachance had spoken so highly of. The young Telvanni Morag Tong agent. The one who had murdered the Speaker. She was destroying the Black Hand one by one, killing them off with her bare hands; her skill was undeniable, but where did her loyalties lie? Why would she destroy them? Was she a Morag Tong spy? No, they had all but been destroyed in the eruption of Red Mountain, at best a single guildhall had survived to carry on the tradition. Then, at the same moment she was caught in the line of fire of a disintegrate armour spell, she realised that this Silencer was not out for personal gain.

She was following orders.

Lachance's orders.

Shaleez ran as her glass armour smashed into a million tiny shards, piercing her skin in several places so that a small amount of her blood flowed onto the rocky ground of the mine. She dived into the water and swam down into the depths. It was almost impossible to swing a sword successfully underwater, and being an Argonian the fugitive's disadvantages would disappear if the Dunmer was forced to stay down for the length of time that her spells could last. The Argonian had fought and trained some excellent assassins over the years, and this one would not prove too difficult once her numerous advantages were minimised. Underwater one could not cast magic, movement and vision were impaired, breathing was only viable using spells or enchantments, the aim of projectiles was altered; only Argonians could truly fight properly while beneath the surface, and this one was no different.

Idari stood on the edge of the pool of water with a sinister grin on her face; her partially formed plan was working a treat. Shaleez was expecting a fight underwater in which she would be the winner, but the unfortunate Argonian was tragically mistaken. She was up against a Telvanni who, while young, was studied in the practical uses of magic and an expert in the field of destruction.

And what did water conduct?

The spell was not complicated, especially for someone who had grown up on an island and had been practicing this same spell since she was old enough to pronounce the words and cope with the fatigue to her body. She cast the shock spell and grinned as the target's body writhed beneath the surface of the murky liquid, morbidly amused by the sight, then she recast Water Breathing on herself quickly followed by a spell that gave her resistance to shock - as a child she had learnt the hard way when putting her hand into a recently electrified puddle - and dived into the depths, Blade of Woe clasped in her gloved hand.

Shaleez was doubled over at the bottom of the water, staying down through sheer effort and breathing erratically as the assassin approached to deliver the final justice. She saw the blade in the Dark Elf's hand and felt nothing, not fear, not anger, not pain. Lachance had been right when he had said that his Silencer was gifted almost beyond comparison; the Argonian had assassinated countless mages over the years, but none had ever used the trick that would ultimately end her life against her. She accepted her fate, glad to go to Sithis at the hand of the one who had finally outwitted her, knowing she couldn't win now, and when it came it came swiftly and cleanly, and she watched the red eyes of the person who ended her life intently, watched as the expression didn't alter in the slightest as the dagger glided across her throat, severed her blood vessels. No remorse. The mark of a deadly assassin.

A plume of redness escaped the throat of the Argonian only to be swallowed up by the water around it, and when Idari finally let go of the corpse it began to rise to the surface slowly. She turned and swam towards the entrance of the cave swiftly. She had not served Sithis for a while now and it had been sweet, oh so sweet. She would not wait this long before killing again.

xxx

The members of the Mages Guild in Cheydinhal slept soundly as an unstealthy Argonian crept invisibly through their halls towards the place from which he had received the previous two soul gems. The merchant, a High Elf named Eilonwy, had reluctantly agreed to sell him two gems after a lot of persuasion and some difficulty proving his affiliation with the guild, but she had also unwittingly led him to her store of magical equipment - a cupboard which she unfortunately left locked tightly when she went to sleep.

The specialisation of the guildhall in Cheydinhal lies with Alteration, so it was hardly difficult for Turner to find a scroll to unlock the cupboard and claim his final prize. Technically he suspected that the Altmeri woman would have sold him another soul gem if he had waited until morning and changed into an outfit that made him look less like a necromancer and more like a respectable mage, but in his mind there was no time left; Idari was restless now and had left him with a deadline until she hunted both him and Seanturco down and gutted them both for sport. How long had she said? Before Morning Star. How long was that? Two weeks maximum. She had made herself more than clear.

He knew how she would deal with this situation too: chameleon spell, silence enchantments, the full works. If that didn't work she would put a knife to the throat of Eilonwy's husband Orintur and threaten to use it unless she was given what she wanted. He didn't have to courage to take a hostage really, and he didn't have the magicka reserves or skills to cast those spells unless he found a convenient scroll lying around.

He opened the cupboard door as quietly as he could manage and removed a Grand Soul Gem, tucking it into a pocket of his armour before closing the door and taking a step away. He couldn't lock the door again, even the best mages in the world found locking charms difficult; it was probably simpler to summon the key to the door than to magically lock it and expect the magic to hold for long enough because, unlike charms which unlocked, a locking charm required a duration rather than a one-time bout of energy to be successful. The duration could be increased by the skill of the wizard, but none of them had yet figured out how to simply reverse an unlock spell completely.

Turner backed away from the scene of his crime and only just turned in time to prevent himself tumbling down the stairs backwards which, asides being painful and embarrassing, would probably manage to wake up the entire sleeping guild and get him arrested on sight. This was why he had never become a thief, he was simply too unfortunate to pull it off. He walked down the stairs again as quietly as he could manage, truly amazed by how much better he had become at sneaking since following Idari as she assassinated his master back in Bruma, but slightly disappointed that he was still as good as useless at remaining undetected when not under the cover of invisibility, so for good measure he cast it on himself again and approached the final hurdle - the door - knowing full well that his spell would dissipate around him as soon as he tried to touch anything. Why had the mages not invented permanent invisibility? They didn't need to, the experienced ones could cast chameleon and the younger ones would eventually learn to. Turner wouldn't; magic disliked him.

He prised the door open quietly and slipped outside, the scent of the flowers of Cheydinhal hitting him again now that some of the sulphurous scent left behind by the Oblivion gate had gone, the vibrance of the beautiful city returning despite its ordeal.

His thievery would not go unnoticed, he knew that. He would probably be fingered for the crime too, considering how long he had spent begging Eilonwy to give him another Soul Gem only to be begrudgingly granted a second. Now he had a third. Unfortunately he had a feeling this would not be the last time he came to Cheydinhal, but by then he would be prepared to atone for his crimes, to serve his sentence in a small cell beneath the grand castle. He deserved it too for all the crimes he had committed since leaving Bruma; he ought to be locked up in the Imperial City Prison and have the key thrown away eternally, but then some strange twist of fate might embroil him in another plot.

After all, how many heroes were originally captives of the Imperial Prison?


Author Note: How many indeed? It was me referring to it as the 'Imperial City Prison' that brought back my memories of playing Morrowind. 'They have taken you from the Imperial City Prison, first by carriage, now by boat, to the east, to Morrowind...' And Idari's story started there too, didn't it? In Arena, the player starts in a dungeon in the Imperial City, presumably the prison, too... Daggerfall... Maybe not... :)

This one was a short one, yeah, but read my reply to Quincy Logan and you'll understand why it has to be this way. And - shock horror - I've written a vague plan of the next few chapters so I actually know what's happening next :O It's great, isn't it? I never know what's happening next. OK, about Shaleez, I had this idea that assassins are sent to her to train since she's a member of the Black Hand, perhaps members who are candidates for the Black Hand... Give two people the same contract and see who proves most successful... But this contract was different. See, this also explains how Bellamont would know where she is, right? I took a little liberty with the power of electricity over water, for sure, but I think it works, and she doesn't give up, she just knows when she's been beaten. Also, you should know that there's a small lapse in time between this chapter and the next one... well, Idari's part of the story anyway... let's say... a couple of days. I'm not writing endless Oblivion Gate chapters, no Sir.

Also, I was going to reply to my review from Commentaholic's dad here... But I figured that replying to a review of chapter 5 in the author's note of chapter 29 is not intelligent... However, I hope that Commentaholic will pass on my message of thanks. ~ARTY~