Kharag fought to keep his nerves calm and collected as he entered the small tradehouse in Khuul. His official task from the Legion had been performed, and a curt "thanks but no thanks" was the answer, exactly as Darius had suspected. Now he had a more important task, and it was going to require his absolute focus if he was going to pull it off.

At first, Kharag made a great show of taking off his helm and ordering a drink at the bar, such as it was. The other patrons ignored him quickly. Kharag, however, kept close tabs on the room, and on the only Khajiit in the room as well. A female Khajiit. Shotherra.

As the hours passed, Kharag pretended to get more and more drunk, playing up the stereotypical orc that couldn't hold his liquor. In truth, Kharag had a great capacity for alcohol, a small side benefit of training with the Morag Tong combined with his massive frame. Every couple of rounds, he would shamble to a table that was closer to Shotherra. By his tenth round, Kharag found himself able to sit at an adjoining table and lean over to talk to her quietly. "You're in trouble, Khajiit," Kharag rumbled softly, no hint of drunkenness in his voice.

"And what makes you say that, orc?" Shotherra replied just as softly, her head staying still, eyes never glancing over to him.

"Because there's a Redoran lord and two witnesses who put you at the scene of a burglary in Ald'Ruhn, right in the Skar itself. Not very bright."

"You have no proof. Only eyewitnesses, and ones who are no doubt being told by the Redoran nobleman what to think." The Khajiit's voice was quite silky as she proclaimed her innocence. "You have nothing and we both know it."

"Then if you have nothing to hide and nothing to lose, save for maybe a day's worth of travel or so, you won't mind accompanying me back to Buckmoth for questioning. If you are innocent, as you claim, then we will happily pay for the first silt strider from Ald'Ruhn back to Khuul. A few questions, we straighten everything out, and you lose a day as the guest of the Legion. You're not under arrest. Yet." The implied threat was obvious. If the Khajiit came with him, there would be no trouble. If she didn't . . .

Sighing, Shotherra stood up slowly. "Let me pay the bill, and we'll be on our way."

Kharag belched loudly and summoned the barkeeper over. "Thish loverly Ka-Ka-Khasheet is on my bill. What der owe you me?"

"Twenty drakes, and that's for the both of you." Clearly, the bartender wanted them both gone before something bad happened. Kharag flashed a drunken smile at the bartender as he emptied his coin purse on the table, then stood up and threw his arm around Shotherra's shoulders. The two walked out of the tradehouse, Kharag swaying a little for effect, Shotherra trying very hard not to look embarrassed. As they moved to the edge of town, Kharag slowly straightened up, the grip on the Khajiit's shoulder tightening slightly but remaining casual in appearance.

"Aren't we going in the wrong direction for the silt strider?" Shotherra asked, a faint note of concern in her voice.

"I used the last of my money to pay that bar bill," rumbled Kharag, "so we'll have to hike out to Gnisis, then catch the strider there to Ald'Ruhn. Don't worry, my commander will make all the arrangements."

After walking for a couple of hours, Shotherra glanced around. The trail that Kharag was leading her down ran through a steep sided gully. Clouds had blown in, obscuring the the moons. She could hear kagouti calling out in the hills somewhere, but they sounded distant. Something about this didn't feel right.

"Stop here a moment, Khajiit," ordered Kharag. Shotherra stopped and turned, seeing Kharag's Legion issue sword pointed at her chest. "The time for deception and pretense is over. I know you are a member of the Dark Brotherhood, one of their assassins, and I know you carry an artifact that is not of this world. I want it, and I want it now."

Shotherra laid a hand over her chest, feigning offense. "I do not know what you're talking about." As she spoke, she rubbed an amulet around her neck, keeping the motion concealed as best she could. "Truly, sir, you have mistaken me for somebody else. I am not who you believe I am, and I do not know what artifact you are talking about."

The words struck Kharag's ear in a strange fashion, as if there was a faint buzzing undertone to the Khajiit's voice. Could he really be mistaken? Might there have been a deception on the part of the Dark Brotherhood to offer up an innocent victim in order to conceal the real assassin? As Kharag mulled on the question, he saw Shotherra's hand move. There was something around her neck, and she was rubbing it . . .

The Khajiit felt certain that this fool, whoever he was working for, was now properly distracted. Shotherra reached down to her belt, a hand closing around the hilt of a dagger. The next thing she knew, she was laying on her back on the ground, Kharag's sword driven right through her heart, his foot crushing down on her wrist. She looked up at him in surprise. How had he moved so fast?

Kharag saw the light slowly fading out of her eyes. "Oblivion welcomes you now, Khajiit, courtesy of the Morag Tong." He saw her start to snarl a final curse, but the light faded in her eyes as she expired. For the next few minutes, Kharag stripped the corpse bare, stuffing everything into his pack. He then dragged the corpse back up the road a short distance to a narrow creek and dumped the body. The smell of blood in the water would attract the slaughterfish from nearby tributaries, and they would make short work of the body. The bones might stay for a while, but even they would break down or become buried over time. On the whole, Kharag did not find any fault with his performance. His father would be pleased.

Averren kept his head pointed down as he shambled past the the Legionnaire on duty at the eggmine's front entrance. He'd borrowed a set of dusty robes from a crate in the fort's storage room, then snagged a pickaxe from a mine cart on the path to the eggmine. He knew that he couldn't bluff his way into the mine under the umbrella of official Legion business. As far as Darius knew, Averren was still trying to bullyrag Widow Vabdas into handing over her deed. If murder had happened in the eggmine, Averren knew he'd need proof, something conclusive, something more substantial than the widow's word about seeing her dead husband in her dreams. And since he was the lowest ranking solider around, as far as he knew, then he had no clout with which use as leverage. As usual, he was going to have to rely on his wits, and trust to whatever luck he had.

The Legionnaire on duty at the entrance gave Averren a cursory glance and waved him into the mine. Averren hid a smile. Some things never changed. As soon as Averren was inside and out of sight of the Legionnaire, he ducked into an alcove and got rid of the robe, then put on his chainmail and the rest of his armor. For now, he kept his sword sheathed, not wanting to upset the miners or make them curious. Just before he'd left for Gnisis, Averren had picked up a small contract with the Fighter's Guild to find a pair of poachers, people who'd been stealing from an eggmine south of Balmora. The money had been small, but it had helped offset his travel costs. As he moved deeper into the eggmine, he remembered what one of the miners had told him about kwama. They didn't like strangers, or those who smelled like strangers.

The main level of the eggmine proved empty of anything resembling evidence. Kwama workers came across Averren's path several times, causing him to stop and allow them to run their feelers over him, letting them get his scent. A couple of the miners asked what Averren was doing down in the mine, and Averren politely informed them that he was following up on the disappearance of Serjo Vabdas. The miners told him that the last time anybody has seen Vabdas, he'd been heading into the lower levels of the mine. Averren thanked them and moved off, searching for the way down.

A little while later, Averren found the path he was looking for, a gently sloping footpath leading deep into the earth. The smell of kwama was stronger here, hanging in the air thickly, almost drowning out other smells entirely. Averren walked slowly, trying to stay as quiet as he could. Down here, men and mer didn't come around very often, and whatever denizens lived in this deep corner of the world, he didn't want to alert them to his presence. Presently, Averren became aware of two distinct sounds. The first was faint and distorted from echoing off the walls of the eggmine, but recognizable as running water. The second was louder and closer. Somebody snoring, just up ahead, around a curve.

Creeping forward, Averren caught the flicker of a fire. He poked his head around the curve, seeing a small campfire and an orc sleeping on a bedroll, snoring soundly, two bottles of flin and a bottle of shein strewn about. What made the sight more surprising was the fact the orc wore a Legionnaire's chainmail uniform, the helmet and gauntlets tossed carelessly off to the side, but the orc was undoubtedly a member of the Legion. A drunk and snoring member of the Legion, sleeping in the heart of the eggmine. Something about this gave Averren a small shiver. He felt that this had something to do with the missing Dunmer farmer Vabdas.

The orc turned over in his sleep and resumed snoring. Averren thought hard for a few minutes. He considered falling back and reporting to Darius about the orc, but that didn't seem like a viable option. Darius would question why Averren had been in the eggmine, and that would be the end of Averren's career in the Legion. Which would mean that his assignment for the Blades would fail. No, if Averren was going to accomplish his mission, he was going to have to find the evidence he needed to convince Darius of a murder. And since he couldn't find any evidence of the murder behind him, the only way Averren could go was forward.

A few moments of careful study gave Averren the direction of the water that he'd been hearing. It meant sneaking past the orc but he had no choice. Wishing that he'd kept the robe just a little while longer, Averren slowly walked past the sleeping orc. He was halfway to the small tunnel where he thought the water sound was coming from when he heard a high pitcher chittering sound. Averren's head snapped to the left, catching only a moment's glance of the ball lightning crackling toward him before he dropped to the ground hard, the energized sphere whipping through the air and scorching the rock. The orc simply rolled over again, grumbling in his sleep. Averren scrambled forward along the ground, trying to get to the tunnel, another ball of lightning crashing into the ground beside him, sparks flying and arcing off the chainmail, numbing his limbs. With a concerted effort to focus his will, he crawled into the tunnel and hazarded a glance behind him. A kwama warrior stood at the tunnel's mouth, probing the darkness with a limb, unable to squeeze into the tunnel, chittering in rage that the intruder had escaped. Behind the insectoid, the orc continued to sleep. Thinking that there was simply no way he would be able to go back the way he came in, Averren slowly crawled deeper into the new tunnel.

After getting his feet back under him, Averren worked his way through the narrow sinuous passage, the sound of water growing stronger the further he went. Within minutes, he came out into a large chamber, an underground pool surrounding a stalactite lit from within by phosphorescent algae. And before him, a ghost.

"Who are you?" asked Averren firmly. For some reason, he felt like he'd been expecting this.

"In life, I was called Mansilamat Vabdas." The ghost's sepulchral voice held a mournful note in it. "I came here to help feed my wife and myself, and here I shall remain."

"What happened to you?" asked Averren, a cautious note in his voice.

"I came into the deep part of the eggmine, close to the queen's chamber, because the eggs would still be fresh and the workers would not have moved them to the upper chambers. By getting to the eggs early, I knew I could escape with a couple of the smaller ones without attracting attention. Then I saw him. Lugrub."

"The orc?"

"The Legionnaire orc. When I entered, he was sleeping, as he is now. As I tried to make my way out, he struck me from behind with his axe, crippling me at first, then killing me with a second stroke. Once he realized what he'd done, he came back here and threw both my body and his axe into the pool ahead of you."

Averren sighed softly. "A great shame for the Legion, and I can only offer my apologies for the moment. Given what happened to you, I get the feeling that if I tried to make my way back along the path I used to get in, we'd end up keeping each other company for a very long time."

"There is a way out." The ghost turned, looking beyond the far side of the pool. "You can hear it from here."

Frowning in thought, Averren looked in the same direction, hearing the rushing water that had dropped into the background of his hearing by this point. "There's a way out, using the river. It opens up outside somewhere, doesn't it?"

The ghost only nodded then glanced back down the tunnel. "If you would be the man who brings my murderer to justice, then please hurry. I can feel Lugrub stirring, and when he's awake, he's as cunning as they come. You must escape quickly."

"But I can't escape without getting the proof of your murder." Averren glanced around. The pool looked deep, the algae's light a dim blue that gave little indication of how far down the bottom laid. And swimming with his armor on would be tiring very quickly. He knew he had to think of something quickly, but his options seemed limited.

Slowly sliding into the pool, Averren clung to the rocks lining the side and pulled himself hand over hand to far side of the pool, discerning the tunnel that led out of the chamber towards the underground river. Averren crawled out of the water and went a short distance into the new tunnel, then stripped down to his jerkin and returned to the pool. He took several deep breaths, filling his lungs with a good amount of oxygen, then slipped under the surface and swam towards the bottom, making out a faint gleam through the water.

The ghost of Mansilamat Vabdas disappeared as Lugrub gro-Ogdum entered the chamber, a Legion issued short sword clenched in his meaty fist, a suspicious look on his face. At the bottom of the pool, Averren found Vabdas' water-logged corpse, the normally severe Dunmer features distorted and bloated by the time spent in the water. Beside the body lay a single bladed iron axe, the edge nicked deeply, the thick head showing large cracks throughout, the leather wrapped haft almost split in two down its length. Averren reached down to pull the axe up from the bottom and looked up, seeing Lugrub standing at the edge of the pool, looking around, tapping the point of the short sword into his hand expectantly.

It took every ounce of willpower not to panic, but Averren somehow managed it. His heart had now begun racing as he very slowly crept along the bottom, working his way around the back of the rocky spire that sat in the middle of the pool, his lungs burning from storing up the air that Averren refused to release. One errant bubble would give away Averren's position as easily as any sound. The weight of the axe in Averren's grip held him down quite nicely, forcing him to pull himself up one-handed along the back of the spire, his chest feeling for all the world like it would explode.

As Lugrub began to make his way back towards his bedroll, Averren's head broke the surface of the water, his lungs emptying violently through his nose then taking in fresh air greedily. In all of Averren's years, he had never had a more harrowing time as those few minutes under the water. Once he'd recovered sufficient energy, Averren slipped back into the tunnel leading to the river and gathered his belongings, then sat beside the stream, examining it closely, plotting his escape.

"Very well done, Spearman," smiled Darius. "You made it back from Khuul in record time. I can't say I was surprised at the message the hetman sent back with you, but that's nothing to worry about for you. Now, for your next assignment-"

A junior officer stepped into Darius' office and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, General, but Recruit Lirondi is here to see you. Says he has to talk to you about the Vabdas farm."

"Good," growled Darius softly. "Send him in." The junior officer left quickly and ushered in Averren. Both Darius and Kharag looked at the soaking wet Dunmer that came to attention in front of them, bits of water grasses hanging off the rings of his chainmail, smears of river mud all over his armor and skin. "I hope you have one very good and detailed explanation for this, recruit." Darius' voice could have cut diamonds.

"Yes, Sir, General Darius, Sir. I do have such an explanation, Sir. However, in the course of my explanation, I may require information from you and respectfully reserve the right to pause my explanation so that I can obtain that information through direct questioning."

"Get on with it," said Darius flatly.

Averren took a deep breath and began. "As the General instructed, I spoke with the widow Vabdas about turning the deed to her farm over to us. She was most vehemently opposed to such an act and made her displeasure quite obvious. She then made the claim that her husband had not died in an alit attack, as we had presumed earlier, but had in fact been murdered."

"And what was the basis for this claim?"

"The widow claimed that the ghost of her dead husband was contacting her in her sleep." Averren saw Darius' face begin to snarl in protest and continued with added urgency. "While such a claim of otherworldly contact is dubious at best, it must be given at least some consideration, given the Dunmer people's historical reverence for the spirits of deceased family members and the Empire's own experience with contact by ghosts in a dream medium. The most prominent of which is the incident involving Jager Tharn thirty years ago."

Darius winced slightly, but otherwise kept his composure. "Twenty-five years, actually, but the point is taken. Continue."

"I entered the eggmine and made inquiries whether Mansilamat Vabdas had been in the mine previously and was informed that he did work there from time to time to help supplement his income and his food stores. They could not say when he'd last been in the eggmine, but they reckoned it to be at least a month. I went further into the eggmine and ultimately did come upon the body of Mansilamat Vabdas. It had been dumped inside an underground pool. Although the body was starting to show some signs of natural decay even underwater, there was evidence that he had died by violent means. General, who discovered the evidence that led you to believe Serjo Vabdas had died in an animal attack?"

"Lugrub gro-Ogdum."

"Has this Legionnaire had any disciplinary problems?"

Darius mulled for a moment, then shrugged slightly. "I can recall a couple of incidents where he was found asleep at his post. He was disciplined at that time."

"Does he tend to favor some weapon other than the standard issue Legion sword?"

"Yes, I believe he favors using an axe."

Averren unlimbered the weapon he'd recovered from the bottom of the pool and laid it down on the table. "This axe?"

Leaning in close, Darius' brow furrowed first in examination, then in fury. "Explain, recruit."

"This axe was found next to Vabdas' body. There were two wounds which were quite clearly inflicted by this weapon, the last of which probably cracked the haft." Averren paused slightly, then continued, figuring that the physical proof had already done enough. "I spoke with the ghost of Mansilamat Vabdas, and he told me without any suggestion from me that Lugrub killed him. Vabdas died because he'd caught Lugrub sleeping, and away from his post I'd guess, since he was the only person that close to the queen's chamber. Lugrub hid the body and the evidence, figuring nobody would go looking that deep."

"And how is it you got past Lugrub?" Darius asked pointedly. "Did you confront him and kill him?"

"No, Sir. I felt it was necessary to get this information to you and to let you judge what must happen next. There was an underground stream, one that had a swift current at that, and I basically floated out on that. I took it on faith that it led outside. My feet are a bit sore from bouncing off rocks, but I made it out that way."

Darius sat down, a brooding look on his face, considering his position and his options. Finally with a shake of his head, he locked his eyes on Averren. "Lugrub's life is forfeit. He has betrayed his oath, and he has stained the honor of the Legion, compounding his weakness with this heinous crime. Recruit, you will confront Lugrub and you will execute him for this crime. Spearman gro-Kremputro will accompany you. And while you are down there, Spearman, you will use the following scroll to apply a curative spell on the kwama queen. The suspicion is that she's contracted some sort of Blight, and it must be cured quickly. You two will not fail me." Darius handed Kharag a scroll and gave both of them a flinty look.

"No, Sir! We will not fail!" the two Legionnaires replied.

The first thing Lugrub felt were the two steel headed spears driving through his sides, pinning him to the rocky floor of the eggmine. They brought him to life, short though it would remain. He snarled in surprise and in agony, an orc and a Dunmer holding the shafts of the spears tightly, both of them looking at him with undisguised contempt.

"Lugrub gro-Ogdum," growled the Dunmer, "You have been found guilty of murder, conspiracy, and dereliction of duty. Your sentence is death." The orc reached over and took hold of the Dunmer's spear, holding it in place. The Dunmer moved forward, digging his heels into Lugrub's shoulders mercilessly as he unlimbered an axe. Lugrub's eyes went wide as he recognized the weapon.

"Sentence is to be carried out immediately," the Dunmer sneered coldly. The dark gray skin tightened as the Dark Elf brought the axe down, cleaving Lugrub's skull in two, the crunching of the orc's skull masking the faint splintering sound as the hastily wrapped axe haft cracked again.

Averren stepped off of the corpse, his hands trembling slightly, looking away as Lugrub's body twitched in involuntary spasms. Caius had told him that if there was a direct order to kill someone, then Averren was to follow it, except if the condemned was a source. He knew that he hadn't been around long enough to try and develop Lugrub as a source, but Lugrub's actions would have probably placed him beyond the protection of the Blades in any event. Sure, he thought to himself, just keep telling yourself that, and you might almost believe it in a few years. A duel was one thing, an ambush was another, open battle was still another, but execution grated on Averren's mind. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he'd almost been there himself once that made it so distasteful. Maybe it was the way they'd pinned Lugrub to the ground and rendered him helpless before delivering the final blow. Kharag had suggested the plan, couching it in the most pragmatic terms he could, pointing out that Lugrub had been a Legionnaire full time for some while, and if Lugrub was asleep then they would be fools to wake him up. As Kharag put it, "He lost his right to die cleanly when he killed Vabdas."

Turning over his shoulder, Averren watched Kharag pull the spears from Lugrub's body. It seemed to him that Kharag put an awful lot of thought into the situations which he was ordered into, and Kharag was only a reservist. The Divines only knew how well the full timers prepared. Or maybe it was just Kharag's way-

The air sizzled as a ball of lightning crashed into the stone near Kharag's head. Averren could only watch in dumbstruck amazement as Kharag dropped to a knee fluidly. For such a big fellow, he moved fast.

A pair of kwama warriors charged at them, shrieking as they approached. Kharag tossed Averren a spear, then rolled away as a kwama warrior came dangerously close to tearing off the chain hauberk from his body. Averren planted the butt of the spear into the ground and braced his foot against it, letting the other kwama warrior impale itself. The insectoid shrieked again and tried pulling itself off the spear point. Growling, Averren twisted the spear, locking the animal into place. Kharag had done much the same thing, though he'd had the foresight to jam his spear into a crevice in the rock. As the orc stabbed and swiped at the kwama warrior with a shortsword, his free hand went down to his belt, feeling around frantically.

"Averren, the scroll's gone!" he bellowed as steel clashed against chitin. "We have to pull back!"

Averren's eyes widened as a thought struck him. "No, Kharag! Just keep these things away from me, and I'll take care of the queen!" He turned and ran deeper into the mine, heading for the queen's chamber.

Kharag would've shaken his head if he'd had a spare moment. Instead, he simply growled under his breath about mad outlanders as he finished off the kwama in front of him and turned his attention to the warrior Averren had impaled.

Within moments, Averren stood at the mouth of the queen's chamber. He'd never seen a kwama queen up close before, and the sight filled him with mixed dread and wonder. Under normal circumstances, the queen might be a thing of alien beauty, the long delicately feathered antennae contrasting with the thick chitinous thorax and the massive bulbous egg sac. Yet this queen was diseased, the antennae either almost listless or thrashing out violently for a few moments, the chitin dull and cracked, the egg sac an unhealthy shade of gray. The insectoid wasn't dying. It was suffering.

Averren slowly approached the queen, then pressed his hands lightly against the thorax. Taking a deep breath, he began to recite the incantation he'd learned at the Gnisis Temple, the spell that removed diseases, even Blights. He felt the magicka within him welling up and flowing through his hands into the kwama queen as he continued to recite the spell, speaking in a clear and steady voice. Averren's eyes remained open the whole time, watching in fascination as the queen slowly began to heal in front of him. The egg sac began to take on a healthier pinkish-brown color, the chitin becoming smooth and lustrous, the antennae standing straight up then relaxing into a soft waving pattern. A fluid guttural sound escaped from the queen, a sound of relief from what Averren could guess. He stepped away slowly, feeling slightly light headed from the massive drain of magicka but pleased with what he'd accomplished.

The next thing he knew, Averren was flying through the air, his body relaxing reflexively as he'd been taught to by Caius, a momentary flash of a kwama warrior's knobby arm following through on the backhanded blow it had dealt him passing in front of his eyes. He crashed into the cavern wall, passing through it with punishing force, his shoulder and ribs flaring up into agony for a few moments before blackness overcame him as he crashed to the ground.

"Averren," called a voice in the blackness. "Averren, can you hear me?"

For some reason, Averren couldn't get up. His body felt like cast iron, and the left side burned with a dull and angry pain, protesting every breath he took. His mind recognized the voice but couldn't quite seem to put a name to it. He thought that his eyes were open, but for some reason he still couldn't see anything.
"Averren, wake up, damn you," the voice growled, the sound reaching his ears more clearly now.

"Kh-Kharag . . ." Averren croaked.

"Almsivi be praised, you're alive." The orc's voice rumbled with relief and a bit of exasperation. "I was starting to think you'd gone and died on me. I wouldn't have enjoyed making that report, I can tell you."

Averren's eyes fluttered a little, his eyes now beginning to pick up faint details. Wherever they were, it was almost pitch black, what little light reached them from a source he couldn't easily locate. "Where are we?"

"Still in the eggmine, more or less. Though I think that you may have found a new area that the miners might have missed." Here, Kharag chuckled softly. "Next time, though, you might try using a pickaxe and a shovel. Fewer broken bones that way."

Groaning, Averren, tried to sit up again, then slumped back down. "I can't move," he complained weakly.

"Nor should you be trying to. I've bound you up as well as I could, helps keep the bones from moving too much. But we need to get you back the barracks soon."

"Where exactly are we?" Averren asked again.

"Best guess, we're about thirty feet or so below the queen's chamber, and about a hundred feet back or so. Either you hit the weakest spot in that wall or whatever hit you didn't pull its punch. There's a passageway behind us. One direction seems to lead into another chamber of some sort, but I didn't explore the path very far. The other moves up and over, leads what I think is that underground river you were telling General Darius about earlier. That might be our only way to get out of here, and you're not exactly in shape for a swim." Kharag pressed the tip of a waterskin to Averren's lips and squeezed gently for a few moments. "For right now, Averren, just rest a bit. I'll see if I can't think of something."

"Thanks, Kharag," Averren murmured softly before fading out into unconsciousness.