"You seem excited."
Bishop smirked at her as she fastened her pack on her armor, making sure that nothing was about to fall out.
During the evening at Jorrvaskr they didn't actually manage to get any contracts – apparently the Companions didn't have a lot of work available and with the members of the Circle gone for the rest of the evening, there was no one to actually go out of their way to help them out.
The only thing left to do was to head out into the wilderness and plunder some dungeons.
Not that either of them minded.
They decided to return to Windhelm, taking the long road through Ivarstead, then possibly heading towards Winterhold. Unless they got called off urgently by Delphine or Karliah.
"It's been way too long… I'm not really counting anything that happened in Solitude as… adventuring. And when was the last time we actually went through a dungeon together?" she gave him a wry smile looking over the large entrance to an ancient barrow in front of them.
"Yeah, it's been a while… since you obviously preferred some fancy-ass wizard watching your back the last time we were even close to one," he smirked at her, checking over his arrow supply as the wolf by their side nudged into his leg impatiently.
"Maybe next time don't try to kill me if you don't wanna get left behind," she smirked at him, patting his cheek mockingly.
"Ready? I'm curious to see if we can find another Wall there," she peered at the entrance for a while, throwing a questioning look at Bishop after a while.
"Yeah, let's go. Karnwyr needs to kill something other than a rabbit."
…
The three of them entered the ancient ruins, ready for battle.
It was surprisingly quiet.
They made continued forth carefully, unsettled, through a small chamber and a long hallway. There, at the end of it, a dead draugr lay on the ground.
"Someone else is here…" Aeyrin spoke softly, looking over the corpse at her feet.
They opened the door into the next chamber slowly, spotting a young Nord man sitting on the ground with another dead draugr right beside him.
The man was bleeding.
Aeyrin rushed over to him, her hand lighting up with healing magic right as she reached him.
"Hold still, you'll be alright," she gave the Nord an encouraging smile as she propped him up a bit more with one hand, the other hovering over the torn bloodied hide armor at his abdomen.
"K-k-keep that… away… f-from me…" the man stammered, trying to grip her wrist with his weak hand, flinching at the sight of the warm white light emanating from her hand.
"Shh… it's alright. It's just healing magic," she frowned slightly, adamantly keeping her spell up while the Nord tried to flinch away from her with palpable difficulty. The cut wasn't too deep – she could manage to heal him, but he's lost a lot of blood already.
"M-magic… evil… s-s-s-stay away…" his voice trembled as the visible wound started to heal gradually, making him grunt in relief despite himself.
"Did you hit your head? Who the fuck scoffs at healing when you're bleeding out in a crypt?" Bishop smirked, keeping his eyes on the surroundings while Karnwyr ran around the room, sniffing for some hints of more undead.
The hatred for magic in Skyrim was getting ridiculous. Especially if even a healer would be shunned for it while trying to help a slowly dying man.
The Nord didn't protest further but his hand still gripped Aeyrin's wrist weakly, as if to push her away at any second.
After a while the healing was complete and Aeyrin handed the man one of their potions to get him back on his feet.
"Thank you… I suppose. Although I would have preferred not to rely on some foul magics for recovery…" the man grumbled as he stood up, his brows creased while he looked them both over, his eyes then darting in suspicion towards the wolf sniffing around the chamber.
"You gotta love the gratitude of a dying man," Bishop scoffed at him again. That idiot would have been dead already if it weren't for Aeyrin and her convictions. Anyone else might have just left him there… or looted his corpse seconds later.
"It's fine. I don't need gratitude. The important thing is, you are alright…" Aeyrin smiled politely, but the man still threw her nasty looks for some reason.
"What are you two… three… doing here anyway? This is my tomb…"the Nord folded his arms across his chest, watching them with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah… it almost was," Bishop snorted derisively, shaking his head at the man.
"What do you mean: 'your tomb'?" Aeyrin's brows shot up. Did these barrows belong to people? Since when did ancient massive burial grounds belong to people?
"My family is buried here. There's already one intruder doing Shor-knows-what to my ancestors… why are you here?" he scowled deeply, looking over their equipment curiously.
"This… this is your tomb? I thought…" Aeyrin looked around with uncertainty. Weren't these places so ancient that no one knew who was buried there anymore? It was strangely uncomfortable to be there with the descendant of the undead roaming around.
"It's not his. Sometimes people pile their dead into the areas by the entrance, when they're too cheap to get them into the Halls of the Dead or too lazy burn them. Just because you got a granny stuffed in a box here, doesn't mean it's not free pickings for adventurers," Bishop retorted in annoyance, pointedly turning to one of the shelves around and looking over the dusty things in it to search for loot.
"How dare you?! Have you no respect for the dead? Two generations of my family are buried here and you would plunder the place like a common bandit lair!"
Aeyrin shuffled her feet nervously. It was… a grey area for her faith. Then again, it wasn't as if they disturbed the dead. The undead were mindless husks, their spirits long gone. Ridding the world of them was a good thing – they were dangerous, as they proved enough by nearly killing the supposed 'owner' of this place.
And they needed to get money somehow… there was no use for treasures if they remained buried. And if they were uncovered and sold, there was a chance that some scholar may come across them and enhance the world's knowledge of the ancient civilizations.
Why did she feel so uncomfortable around this man then?
"No one's touching your dead, ice-brain. We're here for the loot and for… whatever…" Bishop stopped himself before he managed to divulge Aeyrin's identity by mentioning the Walls. "So unless you personally bought the ancient treasures and transported them into the depths of the barrow, I'd suggest you shut up already and stop delaying us."
"This is ridiculous. First that sick elf freak comes here to… Shor's bones, I don't even want to think about that. Now you come here to pick off what's left of the place… auntie Agna will be beside herself… if she's…" the Nord's words trailed off as he shook his head with a somber expression.
"What are you talking about? What elf?" Aeyrin looked at him curiously. It was odd that he was in that place at all, unless he was burying someone.
The man sighed, looking them over once more with furrowed brows before he spoke: "There's a greyskin necromancer… he apparently took an interest in this tomb to do his foul magic. Me and my aunt came here to deal with him, make sure he didn't touch our family, but…" he shook his head again, looking into the ground with a hint of shame in his eyes.
"Why would he care for the few corpses by the entrance? He's got a whole hall of ancient skeletons available deep in the tomb no doubt. Why would you even bother?" Bishop gave him a doubtful look as he collected some old soulgems from the shelf he was examining, dusting the years of grime from them before stashing them in his pack.
"We didn't know what corpses he looked for! Wouldn't you think that he'd want… fresher ones… for whatever sick Dunmeri magic he intended to perform…" the man threw his arms up in exasperation.
"Where's your aunt then?" Aeyrin looked around the room, in case she missed another wounded person on the ground.
"She… I… I wasn't exactly… eager to go in… she… got impatient and… went ahead…" the Nord hung his head, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment while he cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Aaaww, and here I thought you were the fearless stalwart protector of this tomb," Bishop laughed at the man meanly.
"We… should head further in. See if we can find your aunt before something happens to her," Aeyrin smiled at him encouragingly. He was obviously stressed. No wonder that he was jumpy about their presence there.
"F-fine… I'm… I'm coming with you!" the man puffed up his chest, trying too blatantly to look tough, eliciting another laugh from Bishop.
"Of course you are, now that there's actually people who can handle the danger. Your aunt must be so proud…" Bishop continued to taunt the Nord for some reason, looking like he really enjoyed himself. Aeyrin did not understand his inclinations sometimes…
"You better shut up about the looting, boy, unless you wanna be left behind with the draugr," he sneered at him after a while, following to where Karnwyr was, waiting for them patiently by the entrance leading further into the tomb.
The man threw him a disgusted look, turning back to Aeyrin, surprisingly with no less distaste: "I guess I have little choice in the matter. If you help me get rid of the vile necromancer, you may keep whatever's in the depths of the tomb. But… could you maybe… keep the magic away from me? I get that it can do a lot of damage, but… it's too unpredictable."
"I'm a healer! I don't use magic to fight. And even if… never mind… let's just go…" she sighed, giving up on lecturing the man on tolerance towards mages for now. "I'm Aeyrin, by the way. And that's Bishop and Karnwyr," she incline her head towards the door where her two companions waited.
"I'm Golldir. I hope you know how to handle yourselves. This place is trickier than you'd think," he muttered, eliciting another derisive scoff from Bishop.
…
"Auntie Agna!"
Golldir ran towards the corpse on the ground franticly, barely paying attention to the large draugr standing above her with a readied axe.
Bishop's arrow managed to pierce the creature's head just as it started to charge at the reckless man. He let out a couple of curses at his behavior, growling in frustration. That boy was luckier than he realized. If he, by some miracle, didn't bleed out in the chamber where they found him, he would have died only a second later, after he encountered another draugr.
"She's dead…" Aeyrin sighed regretfully, shaking her head to indicate to him that there was nothing she could do for his aunt.
"I can see that, stupid knife-ear!" Golldir snapped, crouching by the body, closing her opened blank eyes with his fingers.
Bishop threw him a look which said that he was seconds away from making him drop dead right by his aunt, but Aeyrin shook her head at him wryly. Dealing with him was far from pleasant, but then again, he did just lose his relative. She could definitely forgive some outbursts in that situation.
They started scurrying around the room, looking for loot a bit nervously as the man still knelt by his aunt. Normally, Aeyrin was equipped to offer consolation for someone in mourning, but his hostile attitude threw her off.
"Golldir, if you don't want to continue, you can…" she started to speak softly, in part hoping that he would get the good sense to leave the barrow and return to safety.
"No! I will kill that greyskin for this slowly… he will not get away with this!" Golldir growled, getting himself up from the ground determinedly.
She shared another scowl with Bishop. It wasn't even certain if the undead were all risen by the necromancer. It wasn't as if every one of these barrows crawling with draugr had a resident conjurer at hand. And judging from Golldir's attitude towards mages, who knew if the Dunmer was actually doing anything dangerous?
It would have been so much easier to go on without him…
"Just… be careful then… if you let your anger blind you…" she sighed. Not that she was one to talk, she often got overwhelmed by her own anger, acting recklessly. But he didn't know that and he certainly could use the lesson.
"Don't preach at me! I know what I'm doing!" he barked at her again, stepping impatiently towards the door leading further in and throwing them a raring look.
Bishop scoffed at him, muttering something about incompetence before rolling his eyes at Aeyrin and inclining his head towards the door, encouraging her to get things over with.
…
They stopped in front of the large doors.
It looked like the entrance to an important chamber, likely the final one, and Karnwyr's affirmative bark at the nearby presence of another living person only assured them of it.
While Golldir looked eager to go on, Bishop stopped them firmly, throwing a wary glance to Aeyrin.
"You alright, ladyship? Do you hear it?" he whispered, furrowing his brows and readying his bow. He needed to be prepared if there was a chance she would get incapacitated by a Wall again – Golldir would likely be no help at all.
"No… I don't think it's there…" Aeyrin pricked up her ears carefully, but there was no drumming. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She was really neglecting her training lately and a new Shout would be a nice incentive.
"What are you two talking about? Let's go already!" Golldir growled impatiently, tapping his armored foot heavily and loudly on the ground.
"Be fucking quiet, you amateur. You don't give a conjurer time to prepare for you, dipshit," Bishop snapped at him in half-whisper. This ice-brain was testing his patience.
Golldir threw him a hateful glare but finally stopped the loud tapping which echoed across the hall.
They readied their weapons, Karnwyr growling menacingly as they barged into the large door.
The Dunmer snapped his head up from a sarcophagus, but instead of a shocked expression, he gave them a smirk, his hands already alit with purple glow.
Of course he knew of them…
"I'll return my ancestors to Sovngarde, and you with them!" Golldir yelled as he charged. The sarcophagi around the chamber gradually dropped the stone lids heavily on the ground while he made his way through towards the Dunmer.
Aeyrin charged right after him, keeping an eye on the man, lest he got himself killed, Karnwyr following right behind her.
"That's not how it works…" Bishop smirked mockingly at Golldir while he pulled his bowstring. He wasn't sure how afterlife worked, but he knew it was not like that. The undead corpses certainly didn't drag spirits back from Sovngarde into the husks. Right? At least Aeyrin seemed to think so… she knew more about this spiritual shit than him.
Golldir ran straight for the mage, ignoring the draugr swarming him. He had his way clear, but any of those things could hit him from behind at any time. He was so reckless.
Aeyrin and Bishop did their best to thin the herd, protecting the foolish Nord whenever they could, while Karnwyr charged the mage alongside him.
The mage was ready. His arm lighting up with a purply glow before a same-colored dagger appeared in it.
The Dunmer smirked as he saw one of his raised dead slam its warhammer right into Golldir's back, clad only in old iron armor. The impact made him fall over, screaming out in pain, and the mage approached him, his magical dagger glimmering in his hand.
The Dunmer gave out a malicious smile, bending over, preparing to sink the blade into the man's neck as he scrambled to push himself up from the ground.
Aeyrin was surrounded. She couldn't even see what was happening with the mage – there were draugr everywhere around her. They were weak and fell under her mace easily, but there were so many of them. She had to stay on her guard, swinging her mace in wide circles, spinning wildly.
Her head was getting dizzy…
Bishop didn't concern himself with the idiot charging the mage. If he wasn't stupid, Bishop could have taken care of the Dunmer while they subdued the draugr at the front lines. But without Golldir drawing the attention of the undead, he had other concerns. He was certainly not letting Aeyrin get overwhelmed and hurt because of his idiocy. The boy was on his own.
He drew his bow constantly, hitting the creatures surrounding her one by one, slowly but steadily easing her situation.
In the corner of his eye he saw it, the mage reading to slice the fool's throat.
Well… you die for stupid mistakes. Every child knew that you don't charge a mage when you have an archer at your back. He fucked up their entire tactics. Maybe they should have discussed those with him beforehand, but they just assumed that he wouldn't do anything this stupid. How naïve of them…
Just then, a piercing shriek echoed through the halls.
Bishop turned his head sharply, taking in the sight briefly before turning back to Aeyrin a second later. He couldn't let up, she was counting on him to watch her ass… her back, that is. But what a sight it was…
The wolf's jaw wrapped around the Dunmer's throat as he knelt down by the wounded Nord, blood spraying in thick stream when he tore a huge chunk of flesh from him, ripping into his arteries, his fangs grazing his bones sharply.
That was fucking impressive.
Not that it was surprising that Karnwyr was way more capable than that damn fool, but still… the mage never saw him coming.
It took some more time, but eventually, Aeyrin sent the last three draugr pestering her shambling into bits and pieces with a wide powerful swing.
Bishop noticed she didn't even attempt to Shout. Was she just trying to prevent Golldir knowing? Was she too concerned about hurting him? Or was she just trying to make do without them? He hoped it wasn't the last option. He's had enough of the Greybeards' bullshit. Restraint was pointless and she needed to get used to her powers so that she could control them.
Aeyrin's breastplate heaved with her exerted breaths while she steadied herself on her feet, her head still spinning a bit from the swings. After a while, she approached the collapsed Nord, passing by the wolf who was proudly presenting a chunk of grey skin and flesh to her, blood covering his maw, dripping from the meat.
"Golldir?" she breathed out loudly, her hand moving towards the fastenings of his prominently dented iron armor, unclasping the leather bands on his flanks.
"What… what are you…" he gasped when he felt her fingers on his tunic, his body propped on all fours while he panted deeply.
"You fucking ice-brain! What were you thinking? You better be fucking grateful to still be alive!" Bishop barked at the man, rubbing Karnwyr proudly behind his ears in the meantime before the wolf dropped the chunk of flesh at his feet, barking excitedly.
Aeyrin removed his breastplate, laying her hand on his back gently.
Odd… everything seemed… fine…
She pushed lightly, but he didn't make a sound, only turning his head and throwing her a disturbed look.
"Does…. does this hurt?" she gave him an uncertain expression. She was worried his spine was damaged… his plate had a large dent in it after all.
"No… how long are you planning on groping me? Never thought elven wenches were this eager…" he scoffed at her, his breathing still a bit ragged.
"What?" her eyes went wide at him. His comment made her flush almost subconsciously, but what bothered her more was the fact that he seemed completely unharmed. Why would he just stay on the ground?
"That's it! I'm killing him," Bishop threw his arms up in exasperation, eliciting a frightened whimper from Golldir.
"Bishop…" Aeyrin said with a warning undertone, but she knew he wasn't really serious. Not that she wasn't frustrated with the man too…
"Are you even hurt, Golldir?" she frowned at the man as he sat himself on the ground, staring at the mangled corpse of the Dunmer necromancer.
"My head hurts a bit… the blow was uncomfortable. Do you have a potion?" he grumbled, making sure to throw a scowl at Aeyrin as she studied his body with her eyes for any palpable injuries.
What was he thinking? As if she would actually ever look in any other way than a professional one at someone this obnoxious.
"I'm all out… Bishop?" she shrugged. She wouldn't deny him the potion, but she would hardly be concerned if Bishop didn't have any left either.
"Pfft… as if! The fucking imbecile acts all tough, then leaves us hanging in battle like the fucking coward he is! And now with the comments again?! As if any girl would ever wanna touch a dipshit like you, let alone her! You're not getting anything from me!" Bishop spat at him, making a point of turning away and heading towards the large table at the back of the room to look for loot.
Aeyrin followed him, giving him a demure look: "Bish… I know, but…" Even though he seemed fine, if something actually was wrong with him after the impact and they had a way of helping… she needed to help.
She should not let her personal distaste for someone get in the way of her vows.
"Besides, the sooner we get him the potion, the sooner he is likely to leave," she smiled at Bishop cheekily.
Bishop smirked. He would never insist on her to go against her convictions, but it was funny how she still tried to sway him, using his own attitude against him. To be fair, she had a point. He was eager to get the man out of their lives for good.
He returned to Golldir who still sat dumbly on the floor.
He fished in his pack for a while, looking for a healing potion.
What was that? It felt like some parchment. Aeyrin usually kept all their letters and shit in her pack, so what could it be?
He hastily threw the potion at the man on the ground as he returned his hand to his pack, pulling out a small folded note.
Weird, how did it get there?
He unfolded it while Golldir downed the potion.
It was an odd sight.
A handprint, made with black ink, was covering the majority of the parchment.
Under it, two ominous words, making chills run down his spine.
We know
"What the fuck?" he mumbled, staring at the note in his hand.
"What is it?" Aeyrin called out to him from the back of the room, searching through a large ornate chest.
"Nothing," he responded quickly, stashing the note back into his pack.
What in Oblivion… why did he just lie? It was like instinct… he just got this… strange feeling. He felt like he shouldn't tell her.
But why?
And what did the note mean?
Who was 'we'? And what did they know?
Was is about his bandit days? Was someone threatening him? Was it about the bounty on his family? Was it Mercer, finding out about their association with Karliah?
A horrible feeling swept over him as the thought crept into his mind: was it from Thorn?
He chased it away immediately. This was definitely not his style. He had no need for this ominous bullshit.
But what did it mean?
Maybe he should tell Aeyrin. Why did he even hide it? What came over him?
Well… he could always pretend he found it later… But what if it was about some of the things he hid from her?
"Thanks… so… I guess I will be heading out…" Golldir interrupted his musings as he stood up from the ground suddenly.
"I'd rather you didn't take any more stuff from my tomb, but I guess I can't stop you…" he grumbled, earning himself a nasty sneer from Bishop.
"Just fucking go, you ungrateful shit!" he barked at him, the unpleasant panic in him replaced by anger and frustration at that ice-brain.
Golldir hung his head a bit, heading away from the tomb. Aeyrin thought about saying goodbye and offering her sympathies for his loss, but any gestures from her seemed only to anger him.
It was better to forget about him altogether.
…
They finally got away from the dungeon after some more thorough looting.
Nightfall was already close and they pondered if they should get themselves to Ivarstead or camp in the wilderness.
Eventually, the lack of emergency supplies forced them to seek a safer shelter – there were not many very suitable places on the short way anyways.
Hopefully they would reach Ivarstead with no disruptions.
