A/N: Here it is, the first chapter produced that has a respectable length. I'll be trying for longer chapters from here on in, but a chapter ends when it ends, I guess...
Arty Thrip: I'll review Brothers in Arms when I get the time, unfortunately, time is a luxury for me at the moment...
Chapter Three: Freedom
Gorgoth was full of optimism as he jogged down the passage, away from his cell, away from the annoying Dunmer, away from his execution. He silently thanked Malacath for this opportunity of freedom; he hoped that the Daedric Prince hadn't seen his capture as weakness. The shaman's bare feet made little noise on the slabs of stone as he moved; the layer of dust was enough to reduce noise. This tunnel had obviously been unused for many decades. Torches cast flickering shadows over the walls as Gorgoth moved past, probably lit by the Emperor's party as they moved forward.
A rat skeleton crunched under Gorgoth's huge feet as he moved down some steps. While the Orc wasn't the most informed about architecture he knew the basics, and knew that this passage was ancient. His ears picked up murmurings from ahead, and he slowed his pace to a walk. He didn't want to disturb the Emperor and his bodyguards; they had seemed on edge, for good reason. If assassins had managed to kill all three heirs, there was no reason why they wouldn't strike at the Emperor himself. He could see the three Blades and Uriel up ahead; the passage was widening out. Gorgoth kept well back. He didn't want to have his newfound freedom cut short by a jumpy Blade.
His eyes, better adjusted to working in darkness due to his race, spotted movement amongst the pillars flanking the passage. Robed figures were nodding to each other. Gorgoth knew it was trouble. He was rushing forward, yelling a warning, even before the battle cries started.
"For Lord Dagon!" roared one of the robed figures, launching himself off the balcony and at the Blades, who were drawing their katanas. Mid-jump, the assassin was surrounded by the shimmering orange sparks that indicated that bound armour had been summoned. The sparks cleared to reveal black armour the Gorgoth didn't recognise.
He didn't hesitate. The Blades were outnumbered, and Gorgoth was prepared to bet that they would treat an innocent bystander better than these assassins would. The Silence spell was still active, but he disregarded it as he charged into the fray, past the Emperor, who, shortsword drawn, had been pushed back into a corner by his bodyguards.
"Dawn is break-" the assassin didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, or to complete his swing aimed at the captain. Gorgoth barrelled into him at full speed, the speed and weight of the huge Orc sending them both crashing down the stairs. They came to a halt at the bottom, the assassin screaming in agony as his leg broke with a sharp snap; he'd landed awkwardly and it couldn't withstand the weight of both of them. Gorgoth reared back and slammed his right fist into the masked face. The mask looked terrifying but wasn't strong enough to stop Gorgoth's punch from shattering the assassin's jaw. The Orc took hold of the whimpering assassin's head and violently twisted it to the right. With a final spasm, the orange sparks signalled that the spell was dissipating due to its caster's death. Gorgoth was already rushing back up the stairs into the fray. He'd only been gone for a few seconds.
The Emperor's bodyguards were all embattled, each dealing with an assassin, the captain dealing with two at once. Gorgoth moved in to even the odds, kicking him in the back of his left knee to topple him. The captain took the opportunity and stabbed him in the chest, sparks encompassing his body indicating death. However, this gave the other assassin an opening to bring his mace down on the captain's exposed head. A weak fireball from Gorgoth slammed into the mace; the assassin's hand was barely singed, but his mace flew into the pillars and disappeared. The captain turned and decapitated the bewildered agent. Cries of death and the shimmering of sparks indicated that the other two Blades had taken down their respective assailants. Gorgoth relaxed slightly.
The Blades cleaned their katanas on the robes of their enemies, sheathed them, and regrouped with the Emperor. Gorgoth was going through the pockets of the assassins. He found nothing; they'd conjured all they needed. Leaning back on a nearby pillar, he turned his attention to the discussion. It appeared quite animated, with the Imperial Blade gesturing freely with his hands, and the captain refuting him. The Redguard was wary, looking everywhere at once, and the Emperor was ignoring it all and watching Gorgoth. The Orc shaman simply waited it out; he had patience.
Eventually the arm-waving ended and the Emperor and his bodyguards restarted their journey to supposed safety. Gorgoth, still weaponless and armourless, fell in slightly behind the Redguard, who was bringing up the rear. He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to feel like he had an obligation to protect the Emperor. It would make sense, Gorgoth mused; Uriel was close to granting Orsinium provincial status, elevating it to the status of the other provinces. Gorgoth inwardly smiled at the thought of Gortwog's realm being equal to High Rock.
The Captain was cursing as she twisted a rusty key in an ancient wooden door. It was reinforced with rusted steel bars and looked like it had never been opened. The other Imperial Blade stepped forward to help the captain, and together they managed to turn the key, prompting a terrible screech of tortured metal as the door swung open to reveal yet another passageway. Uriel and his Blades swiftly moved through it. Gorgoth tried to follow, but, understandably, the Blades weren't being too trusting.
"You stay here, prisoner," warned the Redguard as he swung the door shut. "Don't try to follow us." With that the door was closed, and Gorgoth's ears picked up the sound of the Blades struggling with the lock again. He wandered over to a pillar and slid down to sit on the dusty floor, his back to the cold stone. He listened to the Blades finally succeed in locking the door, and then their footsteps were receding.
Gorgoth felt despair threatening to rise and ruthlessly crushed it down. He had no time for weakness. But his situation seemed hopeless. The door in front of him was locked and secure. The only way back was to his cell, and if he knew Dreth, that rat would have called the guard and informed him of his fellow prisoner's escape. Gorgoth's lip curled into a snarl at the thought of returning meekly to his execution. A deep growl erupted from his throat as he surged to his feet. Gorgoth gro-Kharz would not meet his end on a gibbet at the hands of Imperial guardsmen.
"I will not die like some cornered rat!" he bellowed, his powerful voice shaking dust from the rafters and making a few loose stones tremble. The mighty Orc hurled himself at the door barring him from his freedom. The rust had weakened the steel reinforcements, and they gave slightly under the weight of a seven-foot Orc warrior throwing himself at them. Gorgoth backed up and went in again. There was a snap as the central beam of wood broke in half and caved inwards. Another charge led to more planks breaking. Gorgoth was now kicking the door relentlessly, the steel bending and warping as the planks were forced further and further inwards. He could see light through the shattered middle section. With a roar he put everything into one final charge.
The thundering sound of wood splintering and shattering heralded Gorgoth's unceremonial entrance through the door. The shaman toppled to the floor, surrounded by splinters, a good few sticking in his thick Orcish hide. He was back on his feet within seconds, alert for any danger.
Gorgoth was alone in the passage. If the Blades had heard him, they weren't reacting. Odd. The Orc had made enough noise to wake the dead, and the Blades had a right to be suspicious. He ignored the splinters in his feet and side and hurried off down the passage. He sincerely hoped the Emperor wasn't dead. Uriel did happen to be the reason that Gorgoth was still alive and not being hung like the rest of his comrades. The warrior-shaman broke into a jog as his ears picked up shouts and the sound of metal on metal up ahead. The passage was widening again.
The three Blades were constricted into a bottleneck, struggling to deal with six of the bound-armour clad assassins. Once again, Gorgoth didn't hesitate. He picked up one of the assassins that was attacking the Redguard and brought his back down on Gorgoth's upraised knee. The crack of the man's spine breaking echoed along the corridor, but was immediately drowned out by warcries. Gorgoth unceremoniously shoved the body off his knee and charged into the fray once more, spinning an assassin round and punching him twice in the ribs then the face. As he staggered back, he was impaled by the Redguard's katana. Sparks shimmered around him and Gorgoth was already turning back to the Emperor.
Uriel was wiping his shortsword, a dead assassin at his feet. The other two Blades were finishing off the last agent, who didn't seem to care that he had no chance of winning. Gorgoth felt a rough hand on his shoulder, turning him round to face the Redguard.
"How did you get through that door?" he asked, a look of suspicion on his face. "That lock was magically reinforced. No way you could have picked or smashed it." He had a right to be suspicious.
"The lock might have been reinforced," replied Gorgoth. "But the door wasn't. How do you think I got all these splinters?" The Redguard looked down at Gorgoth's side. The splinters would have been unnoticeable in the heat of battle, but under close inspection, some parts of the Orc resembled a porcupine.
The Redguard merely nodded. "As I expected. We didn't actually expect you to go back to your cell like some placid fool. You looked bloody strong. Now Glenroy owes me ten drakes." The Redguard smiled slightly. The Imperial Blade's mouth was twisted into a grimace. "Name's Baurus, by the way." The Blade seemed oddly trusting suddenly. At least the captain hadn't given the order to attack.
Gorgoth shook Baurus' extended hand, but before further pleasantries could be exchanged the captain interrupted them. "Baurus, what the hell are you playing at? For all we know, he could be working with them." She had a hand on the hilt of her katana and was wearing an angry expression.
"He's a prisoner, not long in Cyrodiil from the looks of him. I doubt-" Baurus' reply was cut short by Uriel holding up a hand.
"He is not one of them. He will help us." The Emperor lowered his hand and the volume of his voice. "He must help us." Uriel turned back to Gorgoth. "Come closer. I'd prefer not to have to shout."
Gorgoth moved closer, the captain stepping out of his way. He made sure to keep his fists unclenched and down by his sides; no need to make the Blades think he was a threat. The Emperor leaned in closer to him and reached up to place a hand on his shoulder. His voice was soft yet his eyes, once again, were feverish with intensity. "They cannot understand why I trust you. For good reason. But they have not seen what I have seen..." Uriel seemed to be thinking hard. "How can I explain...? Listen. You know of the Nine Divines? How they guide our fates with an invisible hand?"
Gorgoth snorted. "Your precious Divines might be real enough, but they've never shaped my fate. No-one does. My fate is my own." The Orc wasn't as disdainful of the Nine as other followers of Malacath were –he'd seen evidence of their power – but that didn't mean that he respected them.
Uriel grunted in response, but didn't look surprised. He'd clearly suspected such an answer. "I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder... which sign marked your birth?"
Gorgoth hadn't anticipated the question. He could think of hundreds of more relevant questions to ask in their current situation. But astronomers saw power in birthsigns, even if few others did. "I was born on the second, Last Seed, 3E 405, under the sign of the Warrior," he grunted in reply. For some people, that fact helped them explain his large stature and skill with mace and armour. Gorgoth preferred to think that he had earned that skill by training and experience.
Uriel nodded, as though he had been expecting that answer. "Today the Warrior shall prove a stalwart companion when fortune fades." His voice held conviction, as though he believed that some constellations in the night sky could really affect someone's destiny.
Gorgoth simply grunted and focused on matters at hand. "Where are we going?" he asked. He didn't intend to keep talking to the Emperor until a whole army of assassins descended apon them.
"I go to my grave." The simplicity of the words, and the quiet conviction behind them, shocked Gorgoth. He himself wasn't afraid of death –everyone died, sooner or later – but the Emperor seemed resigned and acquainted to his impending fate in a way that surprised the Orc. Uriel continued. "A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part." As he finished speaking, Uriel motioned to the visibly impatient captain, who led the way forward. Gorgoth fell in behind the Emperor, still slightly awed by the way the old man was staring into the face of death with such calm and determination. When Gorgoth died, he knew he would fight it every step of the way, but it was as though Uriel had already made peace with himself and was friends with death.
This line of thought was interrupted by the arrival of three agents. One was swiftly dispatched by the captain almost before he had a chance to summon his armour. One threw himself onto Glenroy, taking them both to the floor, leaving the way free to the Emperor for the third assassin. Uriel didn't even bother with his sword; he simply raised both hands, lightning shooting from his palms and smashing into the assassin, the huge power of the bolts causing him to spasm uncontrollably. Gorgoth smelt burning flesh as the agent dropped to the floor, definitely dead.
There was a gurgle from the other assassin as Glenroy sliced his stomach open and got to his feet, kicking the spark-enveloped figure away. Gorgoth gave a respectful nod to the Emperor; his skill with words was well known; his power as a mage less so.
Moving on through passages that looked the same a lot of the time, but always hid danger, Uriel, Gorgoth, and the Blades saw off any danger, with the ancient halls ringing with warcries, the clash of metal on metal, and the dying screams of the assassins. The Silence spell was wearing off at an increasing rate, meaning that Gorgoth could fight with a summoned mace. Dispel magics weren't doing a thing, but, for now, Gorgoth was prepared to wait it out.
Stairs descended into a wide open area flanked by balconies. Glenroy wisely went first to take a look. On the all-clear, the party moved forward, only to find him hammering futilely at a barred gate. "The gate is barred from the other side, damn it!" he shouted, his frustration evident. "It's a trap!"
Gorgoth looked around, noting that it was a good place for a trap; plenty of opportunities for an ambuscade. "What about that side passage back there?" suggested the ever-observant Baurus, nodding towards the named narrow passageway.
"Worth a try, let's go," commanded the captain, leading the way through, katana drawn. Gorgoth fell in behind the Emperor, conjured mace ready. His own mace, an ancient artefact of great power, was gone; he'd accepted that fact. It had been a good mace; longer than usual for longer reach and a lot more power, not to mention it's unique enchantment. Gorgoth liked his maces long, and this was reflected in his summoned mace; it was at least a foot longer than equivalents. The Orc was strong enough to heft it as though it weighed nothing.
The passage opened into a square, small room. There were no other exits. "It's a dead end," muttered Glenroy, deciding to state the obvious. All the Blades looked around futilely for another exit; there were none. A clattering in the corridor behind them was swiftly followed by the unmistakable soft sound of multiple conjuration spells.
"They're behind us!" yelled the captain. "Stay here, sire," she said to the Emperor. Turning to Gorgoth, she added: "Guard him with your life." She turned away and led the Blades in a charge down the corridor and into the amassing assassins, each roaring battle cries as they launched themselves into the hideously overwhelming enemy.
"For the Emperor!"
"You think we'd go down easy?"
"In the name of the-" Glenroy's full-voiced shout was cut short by an assassin smashing a mace into his side. The melee closed in, hiding most of the details from Gorgoth's view.
The Orc hadn't realised that he had put himself between the door and the Emperor. The battle outside wasn't going well, but Gorgoth knew that whatever the outcome, the agents would have to come through him to get what they came for. He settled into a combat stance, mace at the ready, eyes flashing with anger. In that moment, he knew what it was like to be a Blade; his blood before the Emperor's. An assassin curled his way around Baurus and launched himself down the passage. Gorgoth moved to meet him with a strong, slow smash to the ribs. The agent was slammed into the wall with such force a few bricks rolled loose. His armour disappeared in a sea of sparks as Gorgoth smashed his mace into the masked face.
Gorgoth felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, and turned to find the Emperor staring at him with a calm intensity in his eyes. It was the look of a man who knew his fate had come. In his spare hand was the amulet that normally hung round his neck. Uriel began speaking in a powerful, imperious voice, forming his words clearly. Like a man who knew these were his last words.
"My guards are strong and true, but even the might of the Blades cannot stand against the Power that rises to destroy us. The Prince of Destruction awakes, born anew in blood and fire. These cutthroats are but his mortal pawns. Take my Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. I have a secret son, and Jauffre alone knows where to find him." Gorgoth felt the amulet being pressed into his free hand, Uriel folding his green fingers around it, protecting it. The Emperor continued: "Find the last of my blood, and close shut the marble jaws of Oblivion."
Gorgoth was still struggling to understand as a stone panel next to the Emperor slid open. Gorgoth couldn't react fast enough as an assassin rushed in and thrust a dagger into the base of Uriel's skull. A wordless roar erupted from Gorgoth's throat as Emperor Uriel Septim VII, ruler of Tamriel for sixty-five years, crumpled at his feet.
"Stanger... you chose a bad day to take up the cause of the Septims," spat the assassin, summoning a mace. The sneer was evident in his voice. Gorgoth's eyes narrowed, flashing with anger, as he slammed his mace into the side of the agent's head. With the sound of an overripe melon exploding, the only successful assassin was thrown across the room, armour and mace disappearing. Gorgoth turned back to Uriel's body to see Baurus kneeling over it, a look of utter defeat crumpling his features. The captain had her arm around Glenroy and was struggling to set him down easily; the Imperial's face was a mask of pure pain as he clutched his shattered ribs.
"No... Talos save us..." muttered Baurus, his voice heavy with grief as he closed Uriel's eyes. At least it had been quick. Gorgoth let his mace fade from existence.
The captain slid down the wall to slump beside Glenroy. Half her face was covered with blood from a nasty cut on her scalp. She tossed off her helmet and buried her face in her arms. Glenroy was struggling with his cuirass straps so he could assess the damage to his ribs. All three Blades looked defeated, smashed, broken.
Baurus's head snapped up. "Where's the Amulet of Kings?" he asked, looking straight at Gorgoth. His gaze moved to Gorgoth's left hand as he held it up. The captain raised her head, and Glenroy stopped fiddling with his bent cuirass. They all looked expectantly at Gorgoth.
"He gave it to me," Gorgoth explained. "He told me to take it to Jauffre. Apparently... apparently he had a secret son." His fingers clenched around the Amulet, and he lowered his fist. He knew he would fulfil the Emperor's dying wish. It felt like his duty.
"He saw something in you. Trusted you." Baurus was nodding in understanding. "It's the Dragon Blood. He could see things others can't." Suddenly, a flicker of hope spread through the room. It was almost tangible. "A secret son? Then this might not be the end of the bloodline..." Baurus exchanged hopeful glances with his fellow Blades. "I never heard of such a thing, but Jauffre would know," said Baurus, retuning his gaze to Gorgoth. "He's the Grandmaster of the Blades. You can find him in Weynon Priory, near Chorrol."
Gorgoth nodded in understanding. He knew what he had to do. But there was a barrier. "I've never been to Cyrodiil before," he muttered. "Where's Chorrol?" He had been born and brought up in Orsinium, many hundreds of miles from the heart of the Empire.
The captain struggled to her feet and wrenched a faded parchment from a small bag tied to her sword belt. She handed it to him, pointing out the major cities of the Imperial province. "Chorrol's just over here," she explained, pointing to a fairly large town west of the sprawling Imperial city. "Just go over the bridge and follow the Black Road until you reach Chorrol." She made sure he understood before heading over to help Glenroy with his armour.
"What will you do?" Gorgoth asked.
"We'll stay to guard the Emperor's body," replied Baurus. "You need to head up through the sewers to get out of here. Here's the key to the sewer grate." The Redguard handed Gorgoth a key slightly less rusty than the one used on the now-broken door back near the prison. "There are rats and goblins up there, but, I don't think you'll need to worry about them." Baurus grinned slightly. "Warrior by trade, am I right?"
"Warrior-shaman, to be exact," replied Gorgoth, looking towards Glenroy. He and the captain had got his armour off, revealing massive bruising and deep gashes all over the Imperial's side. He was biting his lip to keep from groaning as the captain wound bandages around the wound. Apparently, they had no healing potions left. Gorgoth snorted.
"You call yourself bodyguards and don't know any Restoration," he muttered, half to himself, as he sent streams of healing magic into Glenroy's body. The Silence spell was near insignificant now. The Imperial's ribs snapped back together and the bruising cleared, leaving unbroken, undamaged pale skin. Glenroy murmured a thanks as he started pulling his armour back on. Gorgoth simply grunted and headed down the passage the assassin had come from.
"Good luck," Baurus called after him. Gorgoth acknowledged it with another grunt as he squeezed through the narrow passage.
The sewer grate opened after some persuasion and much twisting of the rusted key. Gorgoth ignored the foul smell as he splashed through the sludge and excrement. He'd seen far worse. The rats were no more than a nuisance, and the goblins fell prey to his spells easily enough. By the time Gorgoth was almost at the end of the sewers, the Silence spell had faded completely. A ray of sunlight on the horizon for him. He'd evaded execution, and the last lingering physical effect of his failure in Orsinium was gone. He was ready for whatever Cyrodiil could throw at him.
The sewer grate opened with a rusty screech. Gorgoth bent slightly so he could get through, then straightened as sunlight engulfed his body. The blue waters of Lake Rumare sparkled in the sunlight. The white pillars of a ruin nearby shone, reflecting the sun's rays. Gorgoth stepped away from the sewer grate and took a deep breath. The fresh air filling his lungs smelt like... freedom.