Chapter 1
"Don't worry about them. Hold my hand darling, you'll be fine." A larger hand engulfed hers and squeezed, radiating warmth.
Her eyes flew open; the dream had faded, but the memory was replaying again and again in her mind's eye. Eira wiped away the moisture gathering in the corners of her amber eyes and squinted against the sunlight. A chilling breeze made her shiver hard.
The thief brushed off the snow layered on her bedroll before she rolled to her feet. There were still embers smoldering in ashes of the fire that she stirred gently before tying up her bedroll. The forest was calm, the snow had finally decided to stop and the sun was shining from behind the fluffy holes in the clouds. Water droplets thudded quietly on the forest floor as the sun made its way down towards the horizon.
Eira had warned her guildmates not to travel during the day anymore; a hypocrite she was. Nevertheless, she was adamant about this and Brynjolf agreed with her. The guild members had to be cautious while all of Skyrim hunted the Thieves Guild.
Now ready to go, she glanced up and decided she had a few more hours before twilight. She was near the main road, and was sure the carriage would pass soon. The dream was forgotten as she stomped down the embers and snuck towards the road.
The day before she had found the perfect location for an ambush. That idiot in Falkreath should have kept his jaw shut about the muscle he hired to protect the cargo he smuggled to Skyrim from Cyrodil. It was even worse his employee was probably drinking all the liquor in the carriage. Drinking his way all the way back to Falkreath didn't sound bad… until he got robbed of course.
The road bent towards the East, it curved around a great boulder too great to budge. There, Eira planned her reprisal and waited for the fly to catch in her web.
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Farkas growled as the wheels rumbled along beside him. He could hear the man inside the carriage drinking and grumbling to himself. The driver was a mute with no shoes. He shook his head slightly, disliking that Skjor handed this job off to him.
He thought of home as he trudged alongside the carriage's squeaking wheels. The man sniffled loudly through the window; Farkas held back the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to look at him slowly. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this little man.
"Are we almost there oaf?" He growled, shivering beneath his cloak.
Farkas smirked slightly and tasted blood on his tongue. "Another days walk."
Of me walking. He added to himself bitterly.
"Hmph, I guess you better start walking faster." He replied angrily, then shouted at the driver. "Hurry up, I hate traveling!"
Farkas didn't resist rolling his eyes this time. He did, in fact, quicken his step to keep up with the cart. The air was brisk as the sun started to go down. The road turned as the sun shone over the trees, blinding them slightly. Before they could go much further, the cart stopped. Farkas narrowed his eyes at the tree laying in their path. The base looked like it had been sliced with a blade of fire.
Somebody was waiting for them.
He caught movement to his left and reached for his sword; he could smell her out there but he couldn't see her. Before he could investigate further, the little man was jumping from his rickety carriage and pointing a finger in Farkas' face. He narrowed his eyes and looked down at the man with a scowl.
"If I don't make it to Falkreath in one piece, it will be your head." The little man snapped, fat belly bouncing as he pointed his chubby finger.
Farkas wasn't one that quick to anger, but something about this day made him snap. He smacked the finger away and took a step forward. The man's face turned red; he opened his mouth to scream but was cut short when he slammed into the carriage to get away.
"You hired me mouse. Don't forget it. I have half a mind to let the thief lurking in the bushes rob you." Farkas met the man's stare without flinching.
"You worthless dog, why do you think I hired you in the first place?" The man found his courage and his voice; from where Farkas didn't care.
Farkas turned away, sheathing his sword and walking back down the path towards Whiterun.
"Where do you think you're going?" The little man shouted after him.
"This isn't worth 500 coins. But knowing you got robbed of more? Priceless." Farkas smiled and kept going. He could hear the man's screams behind him as he continued on his way down the trail.
He smiled to himself, he hoped the thief took every last coin. Farkas didn't want to know where a sleazy man like that had come by so much money in the first place. He ran a hand through his hair, almost glad to be on his way home empty handed. He cringed at the thought of facing Skjor when he would arrive home with nothing; he sighed.
"It was worth not having to put up with that old fool for another second." He muttered to himself. A strange sort of electricity had suddenly gathered in his stomach, he tried to shake it but it only grew worse.
"You got that right." A voice responded beside him. He jumped only slightly, enough to make the mouth under the hood curve up in laughter. He gripped the handle of his sword and stepped away slightly.
He hadn't heard her at all; that was a first.
"Try me thief." He warned lowly. The woman tossed him a coin purse without a care; he caught it instinctively. "What's this?" He asked, confused.
"That's your share." She stated, hand on hip. Farkas weighed the bag in his hand, trying to guess how much was in it.
"My share for what?" He grunted, eyeing her.
"You helped me, so I helped you. I don't think that milkdrinker was going to pay you what he offered anyway." She seemed so sure Farkas almost believed her. The woman was wearing light armor, a hood, and a sword on her hip. She was travel worn and was carrying a small bag and roll on her back. A huge bow was strapped to her back as well, almost taller than she was. The woman looked as exhausted as he felt.
"I don't want your guild's dirty money." He growled tossing it back to her. She tossed it right back, like a hot coal.
"It's your money wolf." Amber eyes glinted at him from beneath her hood. "You earned it, I wouldn't have lasted more than a minute with him myself so much praise. One misconception about my guild: We don't kill. It has always been our only rule; I'm not sure why all of Skyrim suddenly thinks that changed."
He held his tongue, she didn't need an answer anyway it seemed.
She turned and walked off down the path towards Riften. Farkas watched her go suspiciously not turning to go his own way until he couldn't see her anymore and the electricity in his stomach finally eased.
XXX
The walk back to Riften was quiet. Eira enjoyed her time in the forest, the smells and noises brought back sweet memories. A breeze followed her as Riften's gate came into view. A chill ran down her spine; something didn't feel right. The night air was brisk and she hurried towards the warmth.
Brushing the thought away, she pushed through the gates. It was close to midnight, she had been walking for two days and all she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep. Something pulled her towards the Cistern; she knew better than to ignore her gut. Instead of heading for her home, Eira's feet carried her through the cemetery and down the ladder one tired step at a time.
The Cistern was uncannily quiet. Some recruits lay sleeping in their cots. Eira slunk passed them, hearing a hum coming from the Ragged Flaggon. She pushed through the doors. Voices and laughter, music. Her heart slowed a little in relief. She cursed her paranoia sometimes.
"Eira!" Somebody shouted, the full bar turned to her and seemed to smile from ear to ear.
"Have a drink lass!"
"We got one for you right here!"
Eira felt a small smirk tug at her lips; she ducked her head. "What are we celebrating?" She asked, finally pulling down her hood and tossing her bag behind the counter. She pulled a few pins and let her hair fall after a long day on the road.
"Sex and money!" A drunk shouted.
"Good enough for me." Somebody handed her a mug and she drank the mead in huge gulps until it was gone. The crowd laughed around her as she slammed her mug down on the bar and tried to contain a belch.
"Drinking? Right now? Do any of you even care what's going on? Are you really going to pretend like everything is fine?" A voice approached her rapidly from behind. Vex was never happy about anything; she came face to face with the angry imperial.
"Of course we're concerned. Do you expect us to act like we've been beaten?" Eira asked. "Having a drink is good for you Vex. Try it."
"Try it huh? Is that why you haven't finished my job? You do realize the client is on my ass about it right? And you're just sitting here drinking? Any more advice from our fearless leader?" She sniped.
"Brynjolf is your leader." Eira snapped.
"We need to be out there doing something about this. Not ignoring a threat." She argued.
"Who said we were ignoring it? Will you relax? Please?" Eira shook her head. "Let me enjoy my drink?"
"You're right." She smiled, "That's all you're fucking good for, is drinking."
Eira felt her temple pulse; she sucked in a deep breath. She pulled a paper from her bag and handed it to Vex slowly. She looked at it with narrowed eyes.
"What's this?" She snapped.
"That's your job, which I'm returning. Do it yourself." Eira answered lowly, feeling more than one pair of eyes on them. Vex's face dried but Eira was already getting up and walking away. "I've been too busy to do it because I've been dealing with this little problem. So how about instead of attacking me, you do what you're told and make money while the big boys handle this? Mkay? Perfect."
Vex's mouth twisted bitterly as she snatched the contract off the bar and stomped out the main entrance. Loyal to the end. Eira thought.
Vex had a reason to be concerned. The bar was quiet as she talked, but started to rumble louder again as she left the Flagon behind her altogether.
Eira passed through the Cistern, only to pause when she realized she was being followed. Turning, she was surprised to see Brynjolf following her out.
"Oh great." She sighed.
"You know Vex is just scared lass." He rumbled beside her. "Just like the rest of 'em."
"None of them even know that's all I've been doing. I've been gone for weeks at a time, trying to catch these guys and keep our members out of danger." She made a disgusted sound. "When I finally do get my hands on these— these— cowards!" She hissed. "So help them gods."
"Easy now lass. With time they will make a mistake and you will be there to stab out their eyes." Brynjolf pat her shoulder with a smile.
Eira frowned at the stones under her feet.
Murders. Murders all over Skyrim. The Thieves Guild was taking all the damage for it. The Dark Brotherhood hadn't been seen or heard from in weeks. Eira had a sick feeling they weren't being blamed, they were being framed. Her hunch told her, that whoever had the power to make the Dark Brotherhood disappear, was an enemy she wanted to be ready for.
"Bryn, I don't get it. Each death is clean. Each is the same. It makes me think it's only one killer." She huffed. "But that wouldn't make sense. Some occurrences were too far apart to have happened because of one murderer. Somebody wants us dead Bryn. I have to find them before they find us." Eira wrapped an arm around him and he gave her a small squeeze back.
"Is now a bad time to tell you Maven wants to talk to you?" He smiled slightly. "I think Fasendil is with her."
"Why would I care if he's there?" She asked, brow furrowed.
"Everyone knows he's sweet on ya lass." Brynjolf whispered in her ear. She swatted him away gently.
"Don't be a child. I have more important things to worry about right now. A man is certainly not one of them." She turned back when Bryn snorted. "What's so funny?"
"Everybody craves companionship lass, especially in hard times like these. Do not close your heart to those who care." He smiled. "Now I'm going to bed. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."
Her face reddened, what did Bryn think he knew about her love life. She made a face. Probably as much as he thought he knew of her wealth.
"Goodnight Bryn." Eira whispered, climbing up the ladder and out of the cemetery. Her house was around the corner, and it didn't take long for her to peel off all her clothes and fall into her bed.
XXX
A few days later, Eira was awakened by a pounding on her door. Fasendil was standing on her front step, almost pushing himself through the doorway. Eira stood firm, blocking him. Her stomach gave a little squeeze at the sight of him, annoyed.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"How are you?" He asked her huskily. He was a high elf, not somebody Eira ever had imagined herself sweet on as Bryn would say. He was devilishly handsome as only Altmer men could be. His eyes were boiling as he looked down into hers.
She realized she was barely dressed for what he usually saw of her. Her hair was around her face and she was wearing a rather large loose shirt that she had tucked into some baggy trousers. She felt her cheeks redden as she registered his hesitation not once, but twice, as his gaze wandered up and down her figure. She was not short, but she still had to look up at him.
"Get a grip." She growled, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him back out the door frame.
"I'm sorry! It's urgent!" He pleaded, "Maven has summoned you. Brynjolf is with her."
She slammed the door and grabbed her gear. Something told her this was no ordinary meeting. She threw on her clothes, boots, and gloves. The wind was bitter as she locked her door behind her. Eira gripped the hilt of her sword as she followed Fasendil to Mistveil keep, ignoring the side glances he kept throwing at her.
The wind howled behind them as they stepped into the hall and hurried down the hallway to Jarl Maven's study. Bryn looked stricken when Eira entered the room. She felt herself choke up. He had only this look on his face when they had lost Ravyn to the very first retaliations on the Guild.
"Who." She whispered.
"Vex." Brynjolf murmured. "Now Eir一"
"Who did it!" She demanded, grabbing Brynjolf by his tunic. He squeezed her tightly as she struggled against him, screaming into his tunic in pure loss.
"It's all right lass. Our little Vex is known for gettin into all kinds of trouble. This time will be no different." Brynjolf said.
"She's alive." Maven drawled, eyeing the two of them. "And they're holding her for a ransom."
"Who. Tell me everything." Eira demanded as she tore herself away from Bryn. Anger made her palms sweat; somebody had messed with the wrong family for the last time.
"The lass told me she was doin the job in Whiterun you gave back to 'er." Brynjolf said.
"She what?" Eira asked, she turned towards the door. Fury was coursing through her chest. "I'm going to Whiterun."
"Hold on now lass!" Brynjolf grabbed her arm to stop her. "Its' not that simple Eira." His eyes were sad, not hopeful as she begged them to be.
"They will return Vex," Maven looked at her curiously. "...for the location of the Dragonborn."
Eira looked at Brynjolf with wide eyes. "What makes them think we know where he is?" Eira asked.
She felt Fasendil's gaze on her, gauging her reaction.
"That's not all." Maven continued. "Vignar Gray-Mane is dead and the Thieves Guild is being blamed. A bounty has been put on the Guild's head in every hold."
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