"I couldn't believe what I was seeing." Owyn had been watching the fight from behind the portcullis. "I don't know what was more gutsy, facing the troll or the Emperor."
"Oh, the troll took a lot more nerve, rest assured."
"These fights are like a dream come true," Owyn gushed. "Today is my finest hour as a battlemaster and there may never be a day to compare.
Yeah, I thought, because you help so much. Rather than say it, I let Owyn have his moment.
A guard called from the back of the cell. "Assassin, you have a visitor." Owyn and I looked at each other questioningly. When he shrugged, I went to the barred exit to find Princess Lunia waiting for me. What could she want?
"You really have no shame for what you did, do you? No regret whatsoever," she accused.
"I regret botching my escape."
"I can honestly say I've never met anyone as insolent as you."
I drew myself up, meeting her gaze. "Don't look down your nose at me and call yourself morally superior. You think your father's hands are clean? You don't think his servants have done the same things I've done?" Her indignant stare turned to sober anger.
"The Empire has brought peace and commerce to all Tamriel," she retorted.
"That's your mantra isn't it? Do you understand why there's peace? It's because anyone willing speak or fight against your father's will is dead by now. And don't you dare think that trade and commerce automatically generate the pearls, jewelry, and fine linens you wear. Your dad took power from local kings and their people pay for your life of luxury with their labors. In a way, I'm just like your father. The only difference is I don't have the blades or a legion to do my will. I slit throats by my own hand and face the consequences without stone walls and high towers to protect me from my enemies. Quit fooling yourself Princess. It's unbecoming of you."
She had no reply, but refused to leave as if trying to come up with an argument. Here in this dark dungeon, she glowed like a torch. Despite what I thought of her family and that we were at odds, I still felt warmth from her presence.
"You know, you should be careful talking to strangers like you did to me on the balcony." I paused to let her remember leaning in so close to my ear. "People might start accusing you of being a floozy."
She put on an indifferent face. "Contrary to popular opinion, I don't much care what people think. You least of all, so you can keep your thoughts to yourself concerning the Empire." I burst out in laughter. I tried to reply, but couldn't get a grip on myself. "What's so funny," she demanded.
"Oh please. Then why did you come here?" I stumbled against the wall, losing strength in my legs from the lack of air. "No no no. I think you came here specifically because you're impressed. You've never seen someone so unafraid of your dad before and you're wondering what's so different about me. It probably has you vexed. The answer to that is that I wasn't raised to see people as good and bad. I was taught that some are strong and some are weak. Some bow and some rule. Some work and some exploit. The difference is that I see no evil in exploiting the exploiters."
I hung my arms lazily on the bars between us and looked Lunia right in her crystal blue eyes. "You have every right to hate me, but let me leave my mark on you. You'll grow old and I won't. That's clear now. You'll be influential your whole life so when someone comes to you claiming to be good or have good intentions, remember that there are workers and exploiters, that everyone has an agenda regardless of good and evil. A good leader must understand that." I smiled through the bars and reluctantly, her gaze softened also. "Will there be anything else my lady?"
She shook her head, golden hair hanging so softly. I wanted to reach out and touch it, but I dared not. "Then you should return to your family."
Once again she hesitated, but I left her standing at the gate and returned to Owyn.
"You only have ten minutes left. That last round went long," Owyn informed me.
"Right," I replied, refocusing on the task at hand. "Who am I fighting?"
"Three mages. One of them is a skilled conjurer like you, but the other two are regular battle mages. They might have various other magic skills."
"Right." I went to the potion crate and sorted through the bottles with blue insides. Alchemists used dye to indicate what type of potion it was and only labeled specifics on tags. I found one labeled "fortify magic" and took it along with a restore magic potion.
Owyn looked nosily over my shoulder. "What ones are you using?"
"This one will replenish my magic if I run low during the fight and this one will help me recover my magic naturally at an accelerated rate. I started my first two fights with a bow, so they'll most likely be expecting that. Maybe I can trick them and take them all out with an illusion."
Owyn approved of my strategy and sent me up with the two potions in hand. I tied the recovery potion to my belt with a thin string of leather, but kept the other in hand. At the top, I armed myself only with a long steel dagger. If this was going to work, I'd have to be light and fast.
When the announcer started speaking, I drained the first potion and readied my magic. Thinking quickly, I moved to a shadowy corner and waited for the match to begin. As soon as the noisy chains raised the portcullis, I cast a spell called chameleon. It tricked people's eyes into seeing right through me. It was far from a perfect spell. If you looked closely, you could still make out an outline of a chameleoned person and it was a difficult spell to maintain, but in my shadowy corner, it worked fine.
The mage's on the other side rushed out onto the field. A human and a tall female high elf, with the golden tinged skin of her people readied fire and ice to cast at me. The third, an orc immediately summoned a creature out of thin air to fight. I recognized it as a fire atronach. There were atronachs of each elemental magic. These creatures were rarely seen in the wild. They couldn't speak and were generally hostile, so nobody knew where they were from. This creature was easy to identify. The body was made of fire, but there was a
frame that the flames licked around. From where I stood, it looked like ornamental iron, cast into the rough shape of a man like an art piece. The torso was ribbed, but the boots, helmet, and bracers were all solid. The pieces weren't connected by anything but flame making it appear like some sort of evil wraith.
They all stared right into the enclosure where I stood, but none of them spotted me. After looking to each other questioningly, they turned to the stands, hoping someone would explain where their opponent was. As soon as their attention was turned, I sprinted and jumped across the field. As I neared, I cast another illusion spell. This one muffled the sound of my movement. My footfalls were quiet and my print in the sand was the only clue my opponents had of my presence. I ran past the human and high elf and slashed their throats before they knew what was happening.
I closed on the orc with the intention to immobilize her and ask my questions, but just before I could reach her, the atronach turned its helmet toward me, flame curling from two eyeholes in the metal. It unleashed a torrent of fire and in order to ward it off, I had to drop my attention from my illusion spells. The Orc turned and spotted me adding another torrent of flame. Behind my ward, I summoned a spear and stuck it in the ground before chugging my last potion.
With a full reserve of magic, I advanced on the pair with the spear in hand. One thrust to the atronachs flaming helmet sent the creature back to where it came from. I don't think the Orc noticed her creatures demise. The flames licking around me must have blocked her view and that was to my advantage. I dropped the spear and advanced on her, fire breaking beautifully upon my invisible shield. I advanced until I could see her face. Her eyes widened in shock and she tried to retreat, dropping her spell.
I dropped my ward. Her magic was low, but mine was near full. I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into my right hook, my fist driving into her face. She recovered, undaunted and threw a right hook of her own. I stepped back and dodged. She faked a left jab and used the motion to step on my foot. I pulled away fiercely, but was unable to free myself before taking an uppercut to the jaw.
I collapsed and before I knew what was happening, her hands were clamped over my windpipe. I tried prying her hands off without success before remembering the dagger on my belt. I fumbled for the handle and buried it in her side. She let go and I drove my forehead into her wide nose.
Before she could do anything, I rolled us over and put my knee on her chest. I grabbed her by the hair while she howled in pain.
"You're going to tell me what I want or I'll kill you slow. Have they found my mother yet?" She growled and struggled to get out of my hold, but using her hair, I pulled on her head and pressed ever harder on her solar plexus. Any more pressure and something was sure to break. "Curse you to Oblivion Orc! Answer me!"
Grunting in pain, she spat through clenched teeth, "No, Virisa Urshar was still on the run last I heard."
"And what of Adairan? Is he he still in prison?"
The orcs green eyes glowed with hate. "No, they took him to the block. He's dead as a doornail."
Her words sent an ice cold spike through my heart. My fingers lost their hold and the orc scrambled out from underneath me. I fell sitting on my rear and there I stayed. The news hit me with full force. Dad was dead and he'd died trying to fix my mistake. If I'd been more careful, cut down the nobles in my way instead of running passed, that one never would have been able to grab me.
My hollow eyes raised to the orc, who was clutching her side and draining a portion. I took in the howling faces of the Imperial citizens in the stands, baying for my blood. Some of them had probably been at the party. Maybe even the one who'd ruined my escape. Humans, elves, and beasts alike all called for my extermination. The bleachers were a mess, a blur of angry faces to my blank mind.
I sat in self pity for what could have been a lifetime and that would have been very short if a figure hadn't darted to the rail from the audience. A wood elf, curly fair hair. Wiry form. Fargoth was in the crowd, no doubt sent by mother. He clutched an envelope in his hand. My gaze lingered on his tear streaked face as he screamed for me to get up, his voice drowned out entirely. He saw the recognition in my eyes and the pain in his own pressed me to move.
The orc mage had recovered her magic and assuming my spirit to be broken, had walked around me, waving to the stands and summoned two atronachs for a spectacular finishing blow. This victory would make her famous and she was going to make a show out of it. With the two atronachs behind me, she moved to my front, blocking Fargoth from my view.
"You should know, after the execution, they paraded your father's head through the city. I even bought a drink for one of the guards who took you into custody. This world is better off without you."
The empty spot inside me filled with brimstone. My anger toward these people could not be described by words, so I would show my disgust through my actions. I would show loathing and contempt deeper than most men ever dream. I concentrated to use a spell I'd only ever practiced in secret because it was outlawed in Cyrodiil. A controversial piece of magic. At my will, the dead bodies of the mages I'd killed rose from the sand and stood on their own feet. With unfocused eyes and blood spilling from their throats, they tackled the atronachs, heedless of the heat that burnt their flesh.
While they wrestled, I advanced slowly on the orc, her eyes wide with horror. The crowd gasped and some even fainted. Guards were yelling excitedly, some thinking they ought to intervene and put the bodies down with their bows while the battlemasters plead for them to let the match unfold.
"Necromancy," the orc demanded? "Are you mad?"
Upon seeing my eyes, she threw fire from one hand, but I knocked it aside. She tried again as if punching, but once again, I blocked and this time grappled, twisting her around, taking the dagger from her side and shoving it into her throat before she could regain her balance.
I raised her from the dead with the other two who were charred from the atronachs bodies, but were unaffected in their movement or utility. Now was the time to put on a show. I forced the dead mages into a bowing position.
"Do you hate me Cyrodiil?" I charged around the edge of the arena, encouraging the booing and jeers. "Is this all you can throw at me? Come on show me what you've got!"
Inevitably, someone threw a piece of fruit and the rest followed the example. I walked around the edge, letting the people throw scraps at me before making eye contact with Fargoth, who was hanging on the rail, exhausted by the tension. Without needing to speak to each other, he knew what I was doing. He crumpled the envelope he was holding and tossed it at me as I walked past. I stopped, picking up a perfectly good apple for show and hid the letter in my left hand before heading back to the bloodworks.
Once out of the sight of the guards, I opened the letter and let the sun shine on it from the tunnel entrance. It was from my mother in very hurried handwriting, her calligraphy skills being thrown to the wind.
My son, I am safe. The Empire won't find me. I'm sorry to say that whatever you've been told, Adairan has been beheaded. I am so sorry. Bargrum, Fargoth, and I are trying to come up with a rescue plan, but security is at an all time high at your prison and we would need a small army to retrieve you from the arena. Right now, this letter is all I can give you. Once again, I am so very sorry. I shouldn't have let us do that job. Don't give up Han-lu. I'll think of something.
That was it. 'I'll think of something' was not a good sign. It meant that she didn't yet have a clue where to start. After so much practice in subterfuge, we usually at least had a couple thoughts or ideas, but there was nothing here. No infiltrator skilled enough to break me out and not enough mercenaries in the country to storm the prison.
My legs went weak and I fell with my back against the halls stone walls. I cried where no one could see.