Divakiin!

by Speaker-to-Customers

A disillusioned WWE Diva (OC) makes an unwise wish and finds herself transported to a world where the fights are unscripted, to the death, and there's nowhere to shower afterwards. Hopefully a new spin on an old concept.

8. Don't Split The Party

Eight: Don't Split The Party

"Change of plan," Delphine announced. "The next party at the Thalmor Embassy is too soon for me to get to Riften, set things up with my contacts there, and get back in time. You're going to have to do the job yourself."

"What?" Rhiannon's exclamation was loud enough to attract the attention of the other diners and to cause Jenassa to give her a reproving frown. Rhiannon waited until the people at the surrounding tables had lost interest, and returned to their meals, and then continued more quietly. "I can't do that," she protested. "Who do you think I am? Natasha freaking Romanoff, is it?"

"The alternative would be to wait a month for the next party," Delphine said. "We can't wait that long. There have been more dragon attacks and you're the only one who can stop them. Either you do it by running hither and thither around the country, dealing with them one at a time for the Divines know how long, or we find the source and deal with them once and for all."

Rhiannon pursed her lips. "I don't see how me getting caught and thrown in jail will help. Or executed, is it? Chopping off people's heads seems to be the standard around here. I'm not a spy or a thief." She gave a bitter little laugh. "I'm in the wrong story. I thought I was Genre Savvy, a fantasy fan in a Dungeons & Dragons world, and it turns out this is Mission Impossible and I'm Wrong Genre Savvy. You need Sydney Bristow but you got Red Sonja."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, as usual, but I'm used to it by now," Delphine said. "I wouldn't be asking you to do this if I wasn't confident you could succeed. The last thing I want is for the Dragonborn to be killed or captured by the Thalmor." She fell silent for a moment, as Lisette the Bard reached the end of the song that was providing cover for their conversation, and didn't speak again until another song had started.

"You've picked up the basics of stealthy movement from Jenassa and me, you've acquired a reasonable facility for lockpicking, and you're an actress," Delphine went on. "Ideal qualities, I would say, for the mission at hand. Not impossible by any means. And you're a talented acrobat and the most gifted bare-handed fighter I've ever seen. If anything goes wrong, and you need to make your escape, you have all the right skills."

"You were doing so well right up until you said that last bit," Rhiannon said. She sighed. "I suppose I'll have to do it. I wanted to be a champion and I'm stuck with it. So what do I have to do?"

"I'll get you inserted into the invitation list," Delphine said, "in the guise of a noble from High Rock recently arrived in Skyrim."

"With Jenassa pretending to be a maidservant, is it?"

"She won't be able to go with you," Delphine said. "The guests aren't allowed to bring servants with them. And no weapons or armor. My contact there can smuggle in a few things for you but nothing bulky."

"I like this not," Jenassa stated.

"I'm not wild about it myself," Rhiannon agreed. "Are you sure you're not trying to get me killed?"

"Certainly not," Delphine said. "You can do this. I have confidence in you. And I'll be providing five Potions of Extended Invisibility. Used judiciously they should get you safely past the guards with no need to fight."

"How long do they last?" Rhiannon asked.

"Thirty seconds each," Delphine said. "You'll need to use careful timing."

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "So now I'll be Bilbo Baggins, is it?" she said. "I always saw myself more as Tauriel or, if I had to be a male Hobbit, Belkar Bitterleaf."

"I have no idea who they are," Delphine said, "but that reminds me. You'll need to come up with a false name that you'll easily remember. Using your own name would make you far too traceable afterwards. Think of one now so that I can provide it to my contact before we leave Solitude."

"Rhiannon is just my ring name, anyway, but I'd rather not use my real name," Rhiannon said. "I know! Hanna Heller would be perfect if I'm going to be Action Girl."

"Hanna is a Nord name," Delphine mused, "but you're too tall to be a pure Breton anyway and there are plenty of ethnic Nords in High Rock. A title to go with the name might be appropriate."

"Countess of Narnia," Rhiannon provided.

"Narnia is a place in your own world, I take it?" Delphine responded. "It will do. There used to be lots of little city-states in High Rock, before they merged into the Five Kingdoms, and it could easily be one of them. Better than using somewhere real and you bumping into someone who knows it well enough to pick holes in your story. I'll help you work out a background, enough to get by, on the way to High Hrothgar and back."

"We're still going, is it? I thought you said there wasn't time," Rhiannon said.

"I don't have time to go to Riften, but we can still get you to High Hrothgar and back if we keep up a good pace," Delphine said. "I suspect the Greybeards may reward you with something, perhaps another Shout, that will make the journey worthwhile."

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"You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force. 'Dah', which means 'Push'," Master Arngeir declared. "With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful. Use it wisely."

Master Wulfgar advanced and Shouted a Word onto the paved floor. Rhiannon read the glowing letters, learning the Word, and then Wulfgar bestowed his knowledge of the Word upon her in the same way as Master Einarth had taught her the meaning of 'Ro'. This time they did not ask her to demonstrate her proficiency with the enhanced Shout by providing hologram practice targets. Instead Arngeir told her to stand between them while they formally recognized her as Dragonborn.

The four Greybeards stood at the sides of a square that was marked out on the floor. Rhiannon took up position in the center of the square and then they spoke. All four of them. As they spoke their unrestrained Voices struck Rhiannon with a force that felt like being body-checked from every direction at once. And she withstood it, staying on her feet, standing unharmed as the Greybeards chanted their way through three stanzas in an unintelligible language. At last they fell silent, the sonic battering ended, and they bowed to her. The three non-speaking Greybeards walked off, returning to their meditations, and Arngeir remained in the main hall.

"You have just tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through it unscathed," Arngeir announced. "High Hrothgar is open to you."

"What was that ceremony all about?" Rhiannon asked. "You were Shouting at me, is it?"

"We spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance," Arngeir explained. "The same words were used to greet the young Talos, when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim."

"I hope I'm not expected to become Emperor, Empress that would be," Rhiannon said. "I just want to get this dragon problem sorted and then, maybe, I'll be able to go home."

"That is in the hands of the Divines, if it was they who brought you here," Arngeir said. "I hope, for your sake, that it will happen but I can offer no assurances."

"I know," said Rhiannon. She shook her head. "With my luck I'll get back and then find that the Stamina potions leave traces and I'll fail a drugs test, get a thirty-day suspension under the WWE Wellness Policy, and be stripped of my title."

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As the elimination series to determine who takes over Rhiannon's Divas Champion title draws near its conclusion the WWE have announced that the new champion will become the first holder of a new WWE Women's Championship. The change had been scheduled to take place at WrestleMania 32, it was revealed, but the management decided to bring it forward because of the unusual circumstances behind the vacancy in the existing title position. The Divas Championship belt will be retired, with Rhiannon as the last ever holder, and the match to decide the new Women's Champion will take place on January 24 at the Royal Rumble.

ThatCulture: Wrestling News

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The carriage rumbled along the road that led from Whiterun to Solitude. A carriage in name only, Rhiannon thought; a wagon with no roof covering and only wooden benches around the sides to serve as seats. At least it wasn't raining, for the moment, and it did provide her with an unimpeded view of the tundra. She was traveling alone, Jenassa and Delphine having stayed behind, and sightseeing was a good way of occupying herself during the journey. Well, that and memorizing the plans of the Embassy, but there was a limit to how long she could study them at a stretch before her eyes glazed over. The wildlife was more interesting, especially… mammoths!

She had seen the huge beasts at a distance before but hadn't had the leisure to take a proper look. Now she could stare at them from the comfort – such as it was – of the carriage seat. If only she'd had her phone with her she could have taken photos, maybe a video clip, except that of course the battery would have died long before.

If she'd had time to prepare for her transportation to Skyrim she could have brought a proper camera, or a GoPro, although it wouldn't have been her first choice. A machine-gun might have been useful, although she had no idea how to fire and maintain one, or at least a set of Kevlar body-armor. Of course the Imperials would have taken everything, when she was found and loaded in with the Stormcloak prisoners, and so it would have been pointless. She'd have ended up with little more than she'd brought anyway; the manicure kit, her bra and knickers, and her watch.

The watch was the only unique thing she had brought with her on this mission. All the rest of her identifiable gear was now in Delphine's Batcave in Riverwood; Dawnbreaker, the Savior's Hide, the Axe of Whiterun, even her little manicure set. Apart from her enchanted circlet, rings, and amulets everything she was carrying was generic, untraceable, and disposable.

On arrival in Solitude she was to purchase a set of clothes suitable for a noble from the high-class clothing shop Radiant Raiment, change into it, and sell off her armor and weapons. She would pass her magic items, potions, and lockpicks to Delphine's contact, to be smuggled into the Embassy, and then take a coach to the party with nothing but her clothes and non-magical jewelry. The watch wasn't magical, and might pass inspection, but it would be best not to take chances and to include it with the items to be smuggled in. If all went well the contact would pass them back to her once she was inside. If things didn't go well… she'd be dead.

She tried to set aside that gloomy thought and concentrate on watching the distant mammoths and their giant shepherds. Apparently the giant she had helped the Companions fight, as it raided a farm just outside Whiterun, had been an anomaly and usually they weren't a threat if you kept your distance and didn't bother their mammoths.

As it appeared someone, or something, was doing. Rhiannon heard a mammoth trumpet angrily, looked in that direction, and saw a giant raising his club and shaking it at something in the direction the wagon was heading. She followed its gaze and saw… a dragon.

And not just any dragon. It was the big, black, dragon that had attacked Helgen and that she had seen again at Kynesgrove. Wheeling in the sky, fairly low down, its attention seemingly concentrated on something on the ground below it. She recognized the place it was circling; the dragon burial mound that she had seen when she was investigating the wreckage of Granite Hill.

"Mae hi wedi cachi arna i," she muttered. "It must be resurrecting another one. Right beside this road."

At that moment the carriage driver saw the dragon and tugged on the reins. "Divines help us, it's a dragon!" he cried, as the carriage came to a halt. "I'm getting out of here!"

"Wait on!" Rhiannon called. She didn't want to face the dragon without back-up but she didn't want to be stranded out in the wilderness, alone and with minimal equipment, either. "I'll deal with the dragon." Not that she would stand a chance against the black dragon but, going by its behavior at Kynesgrove, it would bring back a smaller dragon and then fly off. And the giant and his mammoth were heading in the direction of the mound; she had no idea of the relative strengths of the monstrous creatures, and suspected the dragon's flight and breath weapon would give it the edge, but if the other two could hurt the dragon enough maybe she could finish it off.

The driver jumped down from the carriage but, instead of running away, he took hold of the horse's reins and stood waiting. "You're really going to fight the dragon?"

"It's what I do," Rhiannon told him, with more confidence than she felt. She readied her weapons and sought to summon up her courage. "Girl of Harlech, off the wagon, You must go and fight the dragon" she sang to herself. It worked, at least to some extent, and she jumped down and headed off toward where the black dragon circled.

By the time she arrived the resurrection was well under way. The top of the burial mound had burst open and the skeletal form of the formerly dead dragon had crawled forth. There was a ring of ancient standing stones surrounding the mound, resembling a much smaller version of Stonehenge, and Rhiannon took cover between two of the upright pillars that supported a lintel slab. She peered out from her place of concealment and watched as flesh and scales grew over the skeleton. She looked for the giant and mammoth but saw no sign of them; either they had lost interest, and wandered away, or perhaps the magical whirlwind around the opening tomb had scared them off. Rhiannon felt pretty damn scared herself.

Crouching down, exposing herself as little as possible, she hoped that her Boots, Necklace, and Ring of Sneaking, given to her by Delphine, would keep the dragons from noticing her. It seemed to work. The two dragons spoke to each other, the conversation sounding to Rhiannon very like the one between the dragons at Kynesgrove, but this time the big dragon did not speak to Rhiannon and flew off without giving the other one the command, 'Sahloknir, krii daar joorre', that she was pretty sure had been an order to kill her.

This put Rhiannon in something of a quandary. If she left the dragon alone it might attack the carriage; if she attacked it, without back-up, it might kill her. After hesitating for a minute or so it occurred to her that she was stuck here until the dragon went away. It wasn't showing any signs of moving off and so she gathered her nerve, drew back on her bowstring, took aim and loosed.

The arrow struck exactly where she had aimed it, sinking deep just behind where the wing joined the body, and the dragon bellowed in pain and shock. For a moment it seemed to freeze and Rhiannon was able to get off another arrow before her target moved. Again she scored a good hit and then the dragon launched itself into the air. She loosed one more shaft and hit it in the hindquarters, somewhat to her surprise, and then ducked back under cover.

She heard the flapping of the dragon's wings, and saw its shadow on the ground to each side of the stone, but it passed overhead without slowing to aim its breath weapon at her. The stone lintel had hidden her from its view. It came back for another pass, still searching for the archer who had wounded it, and again went directly overhead and Rhiannon saw only its shadow. Perhaps twenty seconds later she heard it Shout "Yol Toor Shul" and that was followed, immediately, by a mammoth trumpeting in pain and fury.

Rhiannon peeked out and saw the dragon hovering in front of an angry mammoth and a furious giant. She deduced that, frustrated at not being able to locate her, the dragon had taken its rage out on the nearest creatures. And, without any ranged weaponry, the giant and mammoth had no way of striking back.

But she had. She bent her bow again and shot the dragon in the back. It wasn't the best target, as its scales were strongest there and the arrow bounced off without penetrating, but it did get the dragon's attention. It wheeled to face the source of the arrow and, in the process, lost some height. Its tail dangled down low enough to come within the giant's reach.

The twelve-foot humanoid grabbed the tail with one hand and heaved. The dragon resisted, flapping its wings mightily, but the giant swung its huge club and smote the dragon on the hip. The shock of the impact froze the dragon and, with its wings no longer providing uplift, the giant's pull brought it crashing to the ground. At once the giant fell on it with club blows and kicks and the mammoth charged to gore with its tusks.

The dragon fought back in a whirlwind of slashing claws and snapping jaws. Splatters of blood flew from all the combatants. Rhiannon was tempted to stay out of it, contenting herself with watching, but… the giant was sort of human, it was her fault the dragon had attacked it, and suppose the giant and mammoth lost? Then the dragon would be free to give her its undivided attention. She didn't trust her aim enough to fire into the melee without hitting her unwitting allies and, besides, she had very few arrows left. She slung her bow, drew her swords, and headed for the fight.

By the time she reached the combat the giant had gone down and the mammoth, bleeding from a dozen wounds and trumpeting in rage, fought alone. The dragon was in bad shape, its wings torn and its body battered, and it was limping badly. Rhiannon poised herself for battle and used a Shout; 'SU', the Elemental Fury word she had been guided to by Meridia, unlocked with the soul of the dragon slain at Kynesgrove. It was supposed to speed up her weapon strokes, giving her a huge edge in combat, and she fell upon the dragon from behind with her swords swinging.

At normal speed.

The Shout hadn't worked. For a moment she was startled, even shocked, and then she recognized the cause of the problem. She was using the swords she had possessed before she acquired Dawnbreaker, enchanted by herself with basic charms of fire on one and ice on the other, and the Shout counted as an enchantment. In this world you couldn't put a second enchantment on an item that already bore one. She'd have been better off, in these circumstances, using a vanilla un-magical sword. Too late to do anything about that now and all she could do was make a mental note for the future and rely on her own muscle and skill.

It was enough. The dragon, already badly injured, went down beneath her sword strokes and the goring of the mammoth's tusks. She stood still, panting from her exertions, as the dragon soul streamed into her. The mammoth backed away, obviously startled, and then went to where the fallen giant lay.

Rhiannon gathered up a couple of dragon scales and bones and retrieved a couple of arrows. She kept a wary eye on the mammoth, as she did so, but it ignored her and stood nuzzling the dead giant's body with its trunk and making low rumbling noises. Delphine had told Rhiannon that the big toes of a dead giant could be used to make some extremely valuable alchemical potions but she had no intention of trying to carve them from the corpse. Not only did the idea fill her with revulsion but there was no way she was going to get any closer to some seven tons of wounded and unhappy pachyderm. She would leave the mammoth to grieve in peace.

She used the dragon soul to unlock the meaning of the Word, 'Feim', that she had found in Ustengrav as she sought the Horn of Jurgen Windwalker. She discovered that it would allow her to become ethereal, and immune to damage, for a few seconds. Potentially very useful, she thought, especially if it would let her walk through walls. She'd try it out, before she needed to use it in an emergency, but not here and now. Once she'd recovered her breath, and packed away the dragon parts, she set off back to the carriage.

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The carriage from Solitude passed through the gates of the Thalmor Embassy and pulled up outside the main building. Rhiannon climbed down, refraining from the flamboyant leap that would have been her normal method of dismounting, and paused to smooth out her clothes. Even though she had only been in Skyrim for three weeks already she felt naked without her swords hanging at her sides.

The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow. Solitude was snow-free, perhaps because the wide river that ran past it had a warming effect, but the Embassy was further from the river and higher up in the mountains. Her breath condensed into clouds in front of her face and she heard the snow crunching under the feet of Thalmor guards as they walked past. There was something insectile about their greenish-gold armor and helmets, making them look alien and threatening, and the wizard who accompanied them wore hooded robes that were more like a Gestapo officer's trench-coat than the apparel of a friendly Gandalf-type.

The gates of the compound had been closed and locked behind her. Rhiannon felt acutely nervous but it was too late to back out now. She strode forward, trying to project an air of aristocratic confidence, and handed her invitation to the guard at the Embassy door.

"Thank you, ma'am, go right in," he said, and opened the door for her. Almost as soon as she passed through the door she was greeted by a tall Elven woman, even taller than Rhiannon's five feet eleven, clad in a hoodless version of the Gestapo robes. Facially the woman bore a distinct resemblance, Rhiannon thought, to a pointy-eared version of Kim Kardashian.

"Welcome," the Elf said. She had gone way overboard with eye-shadow, giving her eyes that any panda would envy, and her tawny-blonde hair receded at the sides of her high forehead to form a pronounced widow's peak that would have had any horror film director casting her as a vampire queen without a second's thought. "I don't believe we've met."

In fact, Rhiannon realized, she had seen this Elf before; with General Tullius, at Helgen, before the executions started and the dragon attacked. It was highly unlikely that the recognition would be reciprocated. Rhiannon then had been wearing nothing but underwear, with no make-up and her hair hanging loose, and now she was clad in the best local finery, she was made-up to the limits of Skyrim cosmetics technology, and she had put her hair up in a 1940s-style Victory Roll.

"I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim," the Elf went on. "And you are…?"

"Hanna, Countess of Narnia," Rhiannon replied, adopting the accent she would use if she was auditioning for a part as one of the aristocrats in Downton Abbey. "Pleased to meet you."

"Ah, yes, I remember your name from the guest list," Elenwen said. "Narnia? I'm not familiar with that land."

"It's part of Evermore now," Rhiannon told her, following the briefing Delphine had given her. "It was a kingdom in its own right, at one time, but was too small to maintain an independent existence indefinitely. Our detractors say that Narnia is scarcely bigger than a wardrobe." She gave one of those bright little 'aren't I being witty?' laughs and favored Elenwen with a beaming, but patently insincere, smile.

Elenwen's lips formed into an answering smile that was equally insincere. "Ah, one of those former city-states," she said. "And what brings you to this… to Skyrim?"

Delphine's contact Malborn, who was acting as a bartender at the party, tried to break into the conversation at that point. Delphine had given him instructions to do what he could to shield Rhiannon from awkward questions but, at the moment, Rhiannon felt that she didn't need any help. Better that the contact didn't draw attention to himself.

"Oh, I'm looking to expand my business interests in this direction," Rhiannon answered, "and I'll be attending Vittoria Vici's wedding while I'm here, of course. I heard this would be the best place to meet those who could be termed the 'movers and shakers' of Skyrim."

"Indeed," Elenwen said. "You should start with Thane Erikur. He, most definitely, is a 'mover and shaker'. That's him, in front of the fireplace," she gestured, "wearing the blue tunic trimmed with gilt. I won't detain you any longer." She turned away, toward the bartender, and revealed to Rhiannon that the Ambassador's resemblance to Kim Kardashian didn't extend to her backside. "Yes, what is it, Malborn?"

"Nothing, Madame Ambassador," Malborn replied. "A minor problem but I've managed to resolve it myself. I apologize for interrupting you."

"Don't bother me again unless the matter is of major importance," Elenwen said. Rhiannon had, by that time, walked off deeper into the room and Elenwen didn't bother looking for her. The Ambassador took a couple of steps in the direction of the fireplace but, at that moment, the door opened as another guest arrived. Elenwen turned around again and went to greet the new arrival.

Rhiannon didn't head for Thane Erikur; the last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation with someone who might see through her vague talk about 'business interests'. Instead she loitered near a table laden with food and drinks, helping herself to a portion of seared slaughterfish, and looked around the room. There was no sign of any pyramids of Ferrero Rocher and so she cast her eyes over the other guests.

Most of them were strangers to her but there were a few that she recognized. Jarl Balgruuf and his steward Proventus Avenicci, for a start, and – oh dear – there was Jarl Siddgeir. Rhiannon would have to stay well clear of them and hope that the hairstyle and the make-up would be enough of a disguise for them not to recognize her. At least on the second occasion when she'd met Siddgeir she'd been wearing the Savior's Hide and its extreme shortness had meant that he'd been looking, almost exclusively, at her legs.

A bard Rhiannon hadn't seen before, a very pretty dark-haired young woman, was playing a flute for the party guests. The tune was pleasant enough but not exactly lively. If Rhiannon had been attending as a bard, with no ulterior motive, she'd have been tempted to give the guests an enthusiastic rendition of Jessie J's Sexy Lady to liven things up; this wasn't that sort of party, however, and she had no difficulty in resisting the temptation. She waited until a moment came when there was no-one near the bar and made her approach to Malborn.

He was a Wood Elf, with pointed ears, but otherwise looking nothing like Legolas. In fact, Rhiannon thought, he looked much more like Alexander Armstrong, the host of her favorite quiz show 'Pointless', which she watched every chance she got when she was in the UK. She shook off the momentary surge of homesickness and concentrated on the task at hand.

"What can I get for you?" Malborn asked, in a normal voice, and then went on in hushed tones. "You made it in. Good. As soon as you distract the guards I'll open this door and we can get you on your way. Let's hope we both live through this day." He went back to speaking normally. "Colovian brandy? An excellent choice," he said, and he poured out a drink into a silver goblet and handed it to her. "Let's hope we both live through this day," he added in an undertone, and then turned away to face an approaching guest.

Rhiannon walked away, not wanting to be noticed hanging around the bar, and wondered how she was going to create a distraction. Getting everyone to look at her would be easy; getting them to look in another direction would be much harder. Perhaps if she clipped someone's heel as they walked, at precisely the right moment, she could be half-way across the room before the victim crashed into a table laden with platters of food… or into Elenwen. Making people fall down, exactly where she intended, certainly was one of her skills but normally she wanted to be seen doing it. This would be tricky and her timing would have to be precise.

The sooner she could act, the better; the longer she was here the greater the chance that she'd be recognized by Balgruuf, Proventus, or Siddgeir and that her absence would be noticed after she slipped away. She took up a position against a wall and stood there, watching the room, and taking occasional very small sips of her brandy. Then, to her dismay, one of the guests made straight for her.

The guest was a tall young woman, perhaps an inch or so shorter than Rhiannon, and her hair was almost the same shade of red. She wore elaborate robes of red and light brown, trimmed with gold, with shoulder-pads of fine mesh mail that were too small and unsupported to serve any practical purpose in combat.

"Hello," the woman said. "I'm Jarl Elisif of Solitude, the widow of High King Torygg. We're very alike, aren't we?"

Superficially, perhaps, but Rhiannon wouldn't have said that the resemblance was close. Elisif was prettier, with classically Scandinavian high cheekbones and blue eyes, and thinner. Too thin, in fact, and those blue eyes seemed to Rhiannon to have something of a haunted expression.

"We are, yes," Rhiannon agreed, it being the simplest course. "I'm Hanna, Countess of Narnia, visiting from High Rock."

"You must come to the Blue Palace," Elisif invited. "I love your hair. Is it a new fashion in High Rock?" She took a deep drink from the goblet she held and Rhiannon suspected that it was by no means the first.

"Actually it's an old style," Rhiannon said, "but it's one I can do myself when I'm traveling without a maid." She hoped she'd be able to get out of this conversation before too long. It was useful, in a way, as she would blend in more if she was interacting with the other guests rather than just standing alone, but she couldn't risk being tied up for too long.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Elisif asked. "Elenwen really does have the most excellent taste." She took another drink and sighed. "My husband really enjoyed coming to these parties," she said. "I miss him terribly."

Rhiannon was still trying to think of the most tactful response to Elisif's remark when an occurrence at the other side of the room provided a distraction.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, you slut! Do you know who I am?" The blue-clad man pointed out as Thane Erikur by Elenwen was shouting at a Wood Elf serving girl.

"Please, sir, leave me alone," the girl pleaded.

"Now you're going to be sorry you crossed me. Elenwen! This servant girl has been throwing herself at me in a most disgusting manner."

Rhiannon had overheard a few snatches of conversation about Erikur, when she'd been in Solitude, and based on that she very much doubted if Erikur's claim bore any relationship to the truth. More likely the girl had turned down his advances. In other circumstances Rhiannon's inclination would have been to go over and intervene but that would be an extremely bad idea here. It might be the distraction she was looking for, however, if she could get rid of Elisif.

"Isn't he one of your Thanes?" she prompted the young Jarl. "Perhaps you could calm things down?"

Elisif swallowed. "He never does what I tell him," she said, nervously, as Elenwen went over and seemed to be taking Erikur's side. "None of my Thanes take me seriously. I wish Torygg was here. But, yes, I should do something." She took another drink and then headed for the angry Thane and the cowering servant.

Rhiannon at once took the opportunity to go back to the bar and Malborn. "I think we're clear," she said, setting down her barely touched goblet of brandy on the bar counter. "Let's do this."

Malborn scanned the room. "Yes, let's go, let's go, before anyone notices us," he said, and opened the door behind the bar. Rhiannon followed him through, into a small room lined with barrels and with shelves stacked with wine bottles, and Malborn closed the door behind them.

"So far, so good," Malborn said. "Let's hope no-one noticed us slip out. We need to pass through the kitchen. Your gear is hidden in the larder." He opened another door, at the far side of the drinks store, and led Rhiannon through.

In the kitchen a Khajiit cook objected to Malborn bringing a guest into what was, apparently, a forbidden area. The Elf silenced her by referring to something the cook did which also was against the rules and, cowed by this blackmail, the Khajiit dropped her objections and ignored the interloper. Malborn led Rhiannon into a small room, beyond the kitchen, in which were a number of sacks of vegetables and a large chest standing on the floor.

"Your gear is in that chest," Malborn said. "I'll lock the door behind you. Come on! If someone misses me at the party we're both dead."

"Take some bottles back in with you," Rhiannon advised, "then if you are noticed you were just topping up the party supplies. Act natural and no-one will query you." She opened the chest and began to don her gear, starting with her watch, and then the ring and amulet which would improve her ability to move stealthily. She fastened a pouch containing potions to her waist-belt and then sat down on the chest to pull on her Boots of Sneaking and a set of bracers enchanted to enhance her sword-wielding skills. Irrelevant at the moment, as she was unarmed, but they might come in handy later.

"I couldn't help noticing that you haven't brought any weapons," Malborn remarked. "I could find you a knife from the kitchen, perhaps?"

Rhiannon shook her head. "I don't need weapons," she said, and stood up. A thought struck her and she grabbed the least full vegetable sack, tipped its contents into the chest, and tucked the empty sack into her waist belt. "I'm good to go."

"Ah, a mage," Malborn deduced. "Watch out. The Thalmor have mages too and they're dangerous. I hope you know what you're doing. Good luck." He opened the last door and, as soon as Rhiannon had passed through, closed and locked it behind her.

Rhiannon was now in an empty corridor, a dead end, with doors leading off in each direction half-way along. She could hear voices from beyond the door that she would need to go through; Elven soldiers, discussing the dragons, and from what she heard it sounded as if the Thalmor were no wiser about the dragon attacks than anyone else. They seemed concerned about the possibility of a dragon attack on the Embassy itself and that implied that this whole mission was a complete waste of time and effort. It was too late to back out now, though, and there was always the chance that the higher-ups knew something that was beyond the security clearance of mere guards.

She gulped down a Potion of Invisibility and moved on, walking at a normal pace and trusting to her magic items to muffle any noise she might otherwise make, through the room and past the oblivious guards. In this world, unlike in Dungeons & Dragons, interacting with any object disrupted invisibility rather than the spell only breaking if you attacked someone. Opening a door, therefore, would be enough to make Rhiannon visible again. Luckily the door out of this room was around a corner from where the guards were standing and she was able to exit safely.

Beyond the door lay a snow-covered courtyard patrolled by Elven guards. The door itself was screened from the guards by a section of wall, quite possibly intended to shield the door from snow building up in front of it, but it provided Rhiannon with useful cover as she took a second invisibility potion and then set off for her next objective.

She had to get into a building called, according to Delphine's floor-plans, Elenwen's Solar. That was where any Thalmor classified documents would be kept. It also was where valuable items, such as would be targeted by a thief, were likely to be and Delphine had advised Rhiannon to steal anything in the way of gold or jewels that she happened upon. If the Thalmor thought that the documents had been taken as an incidental by-product of a conventional robbery they might pursue their investigation with less fervor than if they knew the theft had been specifically targeted. And, anyway, valuables were… valuable… for their own sake.

A path led around the outside of the courtyard. Rhiannon followed the path for part of the way and then cut across the open space heading for the door of Elenwen's Solar. A door that had a Thalmor wizard leaning on it.

"Mae hi wedi cachi arna i," Rhiannon exclaimed under her breath. There was no way she could get through the door without being noticed. She'd have to distract the wizard somehow – but how, when she was relying on being invisible? Perhaps if she found somewhere out of sight, threw a snowball onto a roof to trigger a fall of snow, and hoped the wizard moved away to investigate the sound? She moved away from her intended course, found a place of concealment around a corner of the building, crouched down and assessed the situation.

Just as the potion wore off, and as she was reaching down to gather a handful of snow, she heard a door open and then saw figures appearing on the path having come through the door she had used moments earlier. She backed away out of sight, took another potion, and then moved to where she could see again.

The new arrivals were a Thalmor soldier and the serving maid who had been the object of Erikur's rant. She was crying, and pleading for mercy, but the soldier ignored her pleas and merely frog-marched her along. Rhiannon realized that they were heading for the door of Elenwen's Solar and the wizard would have to move out of the way to let them through. She hastened across the courtyard, followed close behind them, and went through the door in their wake. The soldier turned back to shut the door, and she had to move aside smartly to avoid being touched by his reaching arm, but she made it inside whilst remaining invisible and undetected.

A guard inside, who was standing at the foot of a stone staircase, greeted the new arrivals. "What's this? One of the domestic staff been misbehaving?"

"Indeed so, Tanacar," the soldier replied. "This inferior wench annoyed one of Her Excellency's guests. She's to be… re-educated."

It would seem, Rhiannon thought, that any attempt by Elisif to defuse the situation had failed ignominiously. And 're-educated' sounded extremely ominous; workers mustn't have rights under the Thalmor, whose resemblance to the Gestapo seemed not to be restricted to the cut of their robes. Could she help the girl? Not right now, as taking on two armed and armored guards when she was weaponless and clad in party clothes would be foolish, especially as she could hear voices from elsewhere within the building; maybe later.

The voices were coming from the direction of the office where, according to Delphine's instructions, she was most likely to find the documents. There was no point in heading that way, for the moment, and so she hastened past the guard, and up the stairs, to get out of sight before the invisibility wore off.

"So she's to be subjected to Master Rulindil's ministrations, then?" the guard said, as she passed him. "He's busy with an informant at the moment but he shouldn't be long. He'll be conducting an interrogation once he's finished with the informant. She might find being forced to watch… instructive. Or perhaps he'll work on her so that the prisoner can see what awaits him."

"Please, sirs, I've done nothing wrong," the girl whimpered.

"You've displeased Her Excellency," the soldier holding her arm said. "That's enough."

Rhiannon had, by that time, moved far enough away that she could no longer make out the conversation. She had heard enough to make her profoundly angry, worried, and indeed frightened. The first part of this adventure had been exciting, almost fun, but this was bringing home to her how much danger she was in. Not just death, but torture. She gritted her teeth and carried on.

The upstairs rooms wouldn't hold anything confidential, she had been told, but they would contain valuable loot. She went through the rooms taking anything that looked worthwhile. Mainly potion bottles and a few gold coins, at first, but then she found the safe. She expected to have major problems opening it but, to her surprise, she discovered that it was unlocked.

Inside she found a sack of coin, a gold bar, and some jewelry that looked worth a lot of money. This made it even more surprising that the safe hadn't been locked. Perhaps, she guessed, the official downstairs had taken money from the safe to pay off his informant and had neglected to lock the safe afterwards. Hopefully he wouldn't come back to put away unused funds, and discover the looted safe, at least not until long after she had left.

She found little else in the room other than a few potions. After packing them away in her sack, wrapped in cloth to stop them clinking, she waited on the balcony, listening, until she heard the soldier who had brought the servant girl bidding farewell to his colleague and departing. The other guard resumed his station at the foot of the stairs and Rhiannon drank another Potion of Invisibility. She descended the stairs and paused, behind the guard, to listen to the sounds from the office that was her target.

It seemed as if the business being transacted there was drawing to its end.

"Now, I have work to do. Leave me to it, if you ever want to see the rest of your payment," said a voice in the cultured tones of a Thalmor official. Master Rulindil, presumably. In the background Rhiannon could make out the serving girl still whimpering.

"Can I… I could help you," said another voice, its accent much more working-class. "He'd talk to me. He trusts me."

Rhiannon guessed that the room would become vacant soon but she couldn't stay where she was any longer or the potion would expire. She set off for the room at the other side of the entrance hall, silent and presumably unoccupied, but she still heard the rest of the conversation.

"You'd like to come downstairs with me, and this unfortunate wench, is that it, Gissur? Shall we untie his bonds and put you in a cell together? You can ask him anything you like and see how he answers."

"No, no. I'll… I'll wait outside."

"That would probably be best. Now get out!"

By that time Rhiannon had reached the other room, which indeed was unoccupied, and there she found a glass-topped display case. Inside she saw two gold circlets set with gems and a matched pair of daggers with gilded and bejeweled sheaths. It was locked, unsurprisingly, and she set to work with lockpicks. Whether by luck or by skill she managed to get the lock open in a very short time, breaking only two of the slender iron picks in the process, and she added the circlets to the collection of valuables in her vegetable sack.

The daggers went on her belt; at last she was armed, although her knife-fighting knowledge came mainly from her lessons in sword and main-gauche dual-wielding. It was a pity, she thought, that the Circus Skills course she had taken as part of her Performing Arts degree hadn't included knife-throwing. That would have come in very handy in this world.

She found a few other pieces of saleable loot in the room, nothing exceptional, and then moved back toward the entrance hall. There was no longer any sound coming from the other office and it should be empty now. Only one of her Potions of Extended Invisibility remained and she wanted, if possible, to hold it back for an emergency. She had another invisibility potion but it was one that she had made herself, using the little knowledge of Alchemy she'd managed to acquire from Delphine and from a book called Herbalist's guide to Skyrim, and a test had shown that it would last for only about ten seconds.

That might be long enough, at least to enable her to take a look without risking being spotted, and she drained the bottle and then peered around the door. She was just in time to see the guard ascending the stairs and passing out of sight. At once, seizing the opportunity, she headed for the other office, choosing her route so that she'd be out of the view of an observer on the balcony if the potion wore off as she was crossing the hall. Her precautions paid off and, although the potion did wear off before she reached her destination, she remained unseen and no alarm was raised.

Master Rulindil the interrogator, and the captive serving girl, had departed and the office was empty. This was where she should find the confidential files. She saw a desk on which lay two rolls of paper, an ink bottle, and a quill pen. On the floor behind the desk was a chest. She opened it and… jackpot! A large key and three bound journals. Each had a title page. One read Thalmor Dossier: Delphine, the next was Thalmor Dossier: Ulfric Stormcloak, and the third, which was mainly blank pages, was titled Dragon Investigation: Current Status.

This wasn't the time, nor the place, to read them. They went into her sack. She felt a sudden impulse, almost as if a voice in her head was prompting her, to take the writing materials as well. Something in her subconscious, perhaps? She couldn't quite see the point but maybe they'd come in useful and they weren't heavy. Into the sack went paper, pen, and, once she had checked that it was firmly sealed, the ink-bottle. The only other things in the room of any use were a couple of potion bottles. She added them to the sack and was ready to leave.

At the far side of the office was a doorway opening onto a wooden staircase leading down. At the foot of the stairs a locked door, reinforced with riveted iron plates, barred the way to the Interrogation Chamber. Rhiannon guessed that the key she had found in the chest might well belong to this door; she tried it and found that her guess was correct. She opened the door, went through, and emerged onto a balcony overlooking a large, sparsely-furnished, room with a bare wooden floor.

A floor stained, in all too many places, by splatters of blood. A rack sat in the middle of the room, an actual Inquisition-style torture rack, with a table beside it that was cluttered with ominous pointed and hooked instruments. Part of the room was divided into cells, or cages, of iron bars. Between where she stood and the cages was a desk and sitting there, with his back to her, was a Thalmor mage. He held a quill pen poised over a sheet of paper.

Beyond him, in the nearest cage, a Thalmor soldier stood in front of a man who was shackled to the wall. The prisoner was speaking.

"Stop. Please. I don't know anything else," he pleaded. "Don't you think I'd have told you already?"

"Silence! You know the rules," the soldier commanded. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions."

"Let's begin again," said Rulindil.

"No… for pity's sake… I've already told you everything," the prisoner said.

"You know the rules," Rulindil said, calmly and dispassionately, and the soldier delivered a jab to the prisoner's stomach with the head of his mace, driving the breath from his victim's body. "Start at the beginning, as usual," Rulindil continued, after a short pause. "If you persist in this stubbornness we'll see if another session on the rack can loosen your tongue. Or perhaps the hot irons, hmm?"

"No, wait!" the prisoner gasped. "I was just… catching my breath. Why wouldn't I tell you again? I don't even know anything... There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this Esbern you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. That's all I know."

Rhiannon had no idea what the questioning was about but she decided that she couldn't let the torture go on. A movie hero might burst into the room and demand a halt but that would result in a lone fight against a soldier and a wizard. Jenassa, Rhiannon was sure, would creep up behind the wizard and slit his throat before going for the soldier. Rhiannon doubted if she could bring herself to do that… but she was twelve feet above the wizard, she was Rhiannon the Dragon, and she had few peers in the art of wrestling's aerial moves. She stepped up onto the rail of the balcony, crouched as she gauged the distance carefully, and leapt.

If she had misjudged her jump she might well have broken a leg. She didn't miss. Her feet struck the wizard's shoulders, to each side of his head, and the impact snapped bones and slammed his head down onto the table hard enough to flatten his nose and break his jaw. Rhiannon dropped the rest of the way to the floor, rolled as she landed, and came straight back up onto her feet totally unhurt.

"What the…?" the soldier exclaimed, rushing out of the cage. He raised his mace but Rhiannon acted before he could strike. She seized his arm, swung him around, and rammed him head first into the bars of the cage. They were much more solid and unyielding than the turnbuckles of a wrestling ring and, despite his helmet, the soldier was dazed and sagged at the knees. Rhiannon slammed him into the bars again, and a third time, and he collapsed and lay still.

Rulindil was staggering to his feet by this time. His face was a mask of blood, his nose was a squashed ruin, and his arms hung limply at his sides. He spat out teeth as he tried to speak and whatever he was trying to say was unintelligible. Unable to cast spells, or to use a weapon, he was helpless. The one thing he could do to harm her would be to run off and summon help. She couldn't let him do that but she couldn't bring herself to kill him either. Luckily she had another option open to her.

"Dragon… whips her tail," she said, and moved forward into the right position for her most spectacular finishing move from the WWE. Even if Rulindil's arms had been working it was unlikely he could have reacted quickly enough to defend himself as Rhiannon whipped her left leg up and around in a spinning heel kick, the one Bruce Lee had used in the classic scene from The Way of the Dragon, and knocked Rulindil from his feet and dropped him unconscious on the ground.

In movies and TV being knocked unconscious was a trivial thing. In real life, as Rhiannon was well aware, things were very different and any WWE wrestler who had taken one of those kicks full strength, and been knocked out, would have been rushed off for medical checks and treatment. Rulindil, already possibly crippled for life from the effects of her dropping on him, might well suffer permanent brain damage or even death from the kick. Somehow Rhiannon couldn't bring herself to care.

She turned and went into the nearest cage. Inside it the torture victim was shackled to the wall by his wrists. He was a wiry young man, of medium height, with long tawny hair and stubble on his chin. He wore only a grubby pair of trousers and his bare torso was covered in bruises. Quite good-looking, if he'd been cleaned up, but this was hardly the time or place for thoughts along those lines.

"I told you, I don't know anything else about it," the captive muttered weakly. It seemed that he hadn't noticed Rhiannon taking out his interrogators.

"I'm not one of those Thalmor mochyn," Rhiannon assured him. "I'm rescuing you." She opened the second shackle and the prisoner collapsed on the floor. She gave him a quick burst of Healing Hands and he raised his head.

"Thank you," he said, his voice clearer now. "Who are you?"

"Hanna, Countess of Narnia," Rhiannon replied, deciding to stick to her alias until she was well clear of this place. "Who are you?"

"Etienne Rarnis," the man replied. "They grabbed me in Riften. They seemed to think I know something… but I don't. We have to get out of here." He got to his feet, somewhat laboriously, but his legs gave way under him as soon as he took a step. Only a grab at the bars of the cage saved him from falling flat on his face.

"I think you need more healing," Rhiannon said, and cast her spell again, for a longer duration this time. She knew something about the damage to joints and tendons caused by over-stretching, having been out of action for three months after suffering such an injury wrestling in Germany, but she had no idea how effective the Restoration spells of Skyrim would be in treating them. Better than Earth medicine, it would appear, because by the time she ran out of Magicka Etienne seemed to be able to move normally and his bruising had faded almost completely.

"Thanks, and thanks for springing me," he said. "Look me up in Riften if we make it out of here. I've seen guards dumping bodies through a trapdoor over there," and he pointed. "It might be a way out. It has to lead somewhere."

Rhiannon was glad to hear it; she'd been wondering how she would get back through the rest of the building, and then the courtyard, with only one invisibility potion remaining and at least one, probably two, other people accompanying her. She didn't want to be stuck inside in the Embassy indefinitely like Julian Assange. "Wait a minute," she advised him. "Make sure you can move freely. And, uh, see if there's anything on that guard you can use. I think there's another prisoner I'll need to rescue."

"The Bosmer girl they brought in just before you appeared? She's a couple of cells along, I think," Etienne said.

He was correct. The serving girl was shackled in the next cell but one, in a similar fashion to Etienne, but she still was fully dressed and didn't appear to have been beaten or tortured so far.

"Please, don't hurt me," she begged, as Rhiannon opened the door of the cage. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm not here to hurt you," Rhiannon said, and unfastened the shackles.

"Thank you," the Elf girl gasped. "I don't understand what's going on. They were going to torture me just for rejecting that horrible Erikur's advances. I can't stay here but I've nowhere else to go."

"She can come with me to Riften," Etienne suggested, from behind Rhiannon. "It's a Stormcloak city, so the Thalmor aren't welcome, and nobody there cares what race you are. I would think you could find a job there without too much trouble and, even if you couldn't find work anywhere legit, a serving wench would brighten up the Ragged Flagon no end. And Sapphire and Vex would cut the balls off any man who wouldn't accept that a girl has a right to say no."

"Thank you," said the Elf. "You're very kind."

Rhiannon left them to talk and checked out a chest that stood nearby. She found a pouch of gold and a necklace. She handed them over to the Elf girl. "These might keep you until you find a job," she said, and then she passed the coin pouch that she'd found in the safe to Etienne. "And this will help you get to, uh, Riften. Did you find anything useful on the… dead guard?"

"A sword and a dagger," he replied. "I've never used a mace and I can't get my feet into his boots. Too narrow. The armor's never going to fit on me, either. But I'll get by."

Rhiannon spotted another chest, past where Rulindil lay unconscious and badly injured, and near a brazier on which a branding iron was heating. "I'm going to check that chest out," she said. Before she did so she was struck by a thought and searched Rulindil's body. He was carrying two spell scrolls, a spell book, a couple of potions and a dagger. One of his fingers bore a ring that looked as if it might be magical and, grimacing as she touched his skin, she pulled off the ring and pocketed it. Then she moved on to the chest. It held only one item; another bound journal with a title page reading Thalmor Dossier: Esbern. She added that to her sack and turned back toward where Etienne was struggling, without success, to open the trapdoor he had mentioned.

And then a voice spoke from the balcony above.

"Listen, spy," it said, in the same Thalmor accent as Rulindil. "You're trapped in here and we have your accomplice. Surrender immediately or you both die."

"Never mind me, I'm dead already," she heard Malborn say.

There was the sound of a fist striking flesh and the Elven voice snapped "Silence, traitor! Well, spy, are you giving yourself up? Resistance is futile."

Rhiannon lowered her sack to the floor, took the daggers from her belt, and cast them down beside it. "I'm unarmed," she said. "I'm coming up." She ascended the staircase that led up to the balcony and which she had bypassed when entering the room.

On the balcony were two Thalmor soldiers, one of whom was pinning Malborn's arms behind his back, and a Thalmor wizard. "Foolish human," the wizard said, smirking. "Your death was assured the moment you crossed the Thalmor. Seize her!"

The unengaged soldier reached out to take hold of Rhiannon… and she hip-tossed him over the balcony. The wizard's mouth was still dropping open with shock when Rhiannon reached him, swept his legs out from under him, brought her right hand across to the side of his head and, as he fell, thrust down to drive his head into the balcony rail with shattering force.

The third soldier released his grip on Malborn and fumbled at his belt for his mace. Malborn turned and grappled with him. The Thalmor guard pushed Malborn away but, in so doing, left himself wide open to Rhiannon. She delivered a chop to his throat with the edge of her hand; not the fake chop, with her hand slack and no real force behind the blow, that she would have used in the ring but a vicious knifehand strike with all her strength behind it. His eyes bulged out, his mouth opened very wide, and he clutched at his neck with both hands. Just to make sure Rhiannon caught him by the shoulders, performed a leg-sweep, and tossed him over the balcony too.

Malborn stood and stared at her. "That was… astonishing!" he exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

"I told you I didn't need weapons," Rhiannon said, trying to keep herself from shaking as what she had done sunk in. "How did you get caught?"

"A guard came in and said something to Elenwen about unfamiliar footprints in the courtyard," Malborn said, "and she looked around the guests and must have noticed you were missing. The door behind me was the only feasible way you could have gone and, when she challenged me, I couldn't bluff well enough. Now I'm going to be running from the Thalmor for the rest of my life."

Rhiannon glanced down at her boots, with their fairly square toes, and then at the extremely pointed toes of the shoes on the unconscious, or quite possibly dying, Thalmor wizard on the floor. The metal boots of the soldiers were of a similar style and it would have been easy to spot that her footprints didn't belong. Presumably the guard who had noticed them had been the one returning to the main Embassy building after delivering the serving maid to the torturers.

She went to the edge of the balcony and looked down, to check on the Elves she had thrown over the rail, and saw that one of them had landed, head first, on the rack and smashed through it. His legs, still sticking out from the broken frame, had flopped over limply and were absolutely still. Probably dead, she deduced, and even if he wasn't he would be out of action for a very long time. The other one might have survived the fall but he hadn't survived Etienne cutting his throat.

"I can't get the trapdoor open," Etienne called up to her. "We need to find a key."

"On it," Rhiannon replied, and she bent to search the body of the wizard. She realized that there was a visible depression at his temple, where she had slammed it into the rail, and he didn't seem to be breathing. She felt a surge of nausea but suppressed the feeling; it was getting easier to cope with the after-effects of killing with every new fatal encounter. In the pockets of the wizard's robes she found yet another potion and two keys. One of them matched the one she had used to open the door to this torture chamber; hopefully the other might prove to be the one she sought.

It was. Rhiannon retrieved her daggers, and her sack of loot, and picked up a mace that had belonged to one of the guards. A minute later she and her three companions were climbing down a ladder into a passageway, cut through stone and with wooden supports bracing its ceiling, which led into a natural cave illuminated by phosphorescent fungi. The floor of the cave was some ten feet below the artificial passageway and was littered with human skeletons and fragments of skeletons. And, in the middle of the horrid debris, there stood a large frost troll.

The creature looked up at them, growled, and jumped up and down. Rhiannon guessed that it was the Thalmor's corpse disposal system and was expecting a body to be tossed down to it. From her past encounters with trolls she knew it would be a formidable foe. She did have one weapon at her disposal that hadn't been available the first time she had fought a troll; she had learnt the spell 'Flames' and could project a jet of fire from her fingertips. And, as long as they stayed where they were, the troll couldn't reach them.

"Stay up here," she advised the others. "I'll deal with this." She began to shoot fire down at the troll. It endured the flames for a short while and then backed away, retreating to a distance at which it was beyond the reach of the spell. It would, Rhiannon knew, regenerate and before long it would be back at full strength. She had no option but to draw weapons, jump down, and attack.

Mace in one hand, dagger in the other, she charged the troll. Just before she reached it she Shouted "SU!" This time the Shout worked as advertised. Her weapons flashed, striking far more rapidly than she could have managed without the benefit of the Thu'um, and she carved great gashes in the troll's hide. It struck back with its clawed hands and Rhiannon couldn't avoid all its blows. She was wearing no armor and soon the party dress was torn and stained with her blood. Just as the Shout was wearing off, and Rhiannon was beginning to think she was going to lose this fight and die, the troll sank to its knees and Rhiannon was able to bring down the mace in a killing blow to the back of its head.

She bent over, panting, and saw drops of her blood falling onto the snow at her feet. Snow? In a cave? She looked up and saw a shaft overhead through which she could make out the night sky. Perhaps the troll had fallen through a sinkhole, and become trapped here, and there was no other exit. But no, the Thalmor would never have bothered to dig out a tunnel that led only to a dead end.

"Sorry I wasn't in time to give you a hand," Etienne said from behind her, "but you managed anyway." He was holding his sword and dagger, Rhiannon saw when she turned, and it occurred to her that she might have been a little too trusting; just because someone was being tortured by the bad guys didn't automatically make them a good guy. But if he had been going to turn on her, to gain for himself what she had stolen from the Embassy, the moment to do so would have been before she noticed him.

"There's tidy," said Rhiannon, forgetting her role momentarily and slipping back into her natural accent and idioms. "I managed." She cast Healing on herself and felt the scratches from the troll's claws closing up. The spell could do nothing about the rents in her clothes, and it hadn't occurred to her to take any of Elenwen's clothes from the wardrobes in the Solar, but luckily her bra and knickers were undamaged and she wasn't showing anything that would count as a wardrobe malfunction.

"Dibella's tits, this snow is cold," Etienne exclaimed, hopping from one foot to the other.

"I have the shoes I wore to the Ambassador's Ball in my sack," Rhiannon offered. "They might fit you." She had healed her wounds completely, by now, and set off to where she had dropped the sack before attacking the troll. As she did so she saw that there was an alcove underneath where the passage from the interrogation chamber emerged into the cave. A lit lantern inside the alcove illuminated the cave; it hadn't occurred to her at first but the light in the area was brighter than could have been accounted for by a few phosphorescent fungi. Beside the lantern lay a dead body.

"Looks like that character was on his way in, not out," Etienne said. "They wouldn't dump a corpse still wearing mage robes and with a lit lantern. Can't have known about the troll. Trying to rob this place would be insane so I'd guess he was hoping to rescue somebody. Not me, he's not one of my lot, so the poor bastard he was looking for must be one of these chewed-up skeletons." He stood beside the body and looked down at it. "Robes are too ripped to be any use but he's wearing boots – and they look to be about my size."

"Help yourself," Rhiannon said, and she went to assist Malborn and the serving girl down from the ledge above.

A few minutes later everyone had left the cave and were out in the open air. Rhiannon had no idea where they were, at first, as it was long after sunset by this time. The nights in Skyrim weren't as dark as on Earth, even when the two moons weren't visible, and it was light enough to see where you were going, but she couldn't make out any landmarks. Then she saw beams of light shining into the sky and recognized them as coming from Meridia's Beacon. If she could make it to the Beacon she'd have no difficulty in finding her way to Solitude.

"There's something you need to know," she told Etienne, as the small party trotted along the path that led to the road between Solitude and Dragon Bridge. "I overheard that interrogator, Rulindil, talking with an informant and I think it was about you. The one who wasn't Rulindil was offering to help with the questioning and he said 'He'd talk to me. He trusts me.' Then Rulindil offered to put him in a cell with you, and undo your shackles, but the other bloke wouldn't go for that. I think he must be the one who got you caught."

"Some bastard sold me out? Who? Did you see him?"

"No, but I heard Rulindil call him 'Gissur'," Rhiannon said.

"Gissur? But… he's one of the Guild," Etienne said, sounding shocked. "A Guild brother sold me out to the Thalmor? He's due a trip to the bottom of the canal when I get back to Riften."

"He'll sleep with the fishes, is it?" Rhiannon said, remembering Catatonia's Godfather-inspired song I Am The Mob. Then realization struck her, a cold chill ran down her spine, and she halted in her tracks. Delphine had been going to recruit assistance from the Thieves' Guild in Riften. If one of their number had been a Thalmor agent, then she'd have been betrayed from the start. There had been a Thalmor dossier on Delphine, which Rhiannon still hadn't had a chance to read, in with the one about dragons. It could have been Delphine in the cells, or on the rack; or Rhiannon herself.

"You picked a bad time to get lost, friends," a gruff voice broke into Rhiannon's thoughts. "Kill the men, take the women alive. The tall one might even make a useful recruit, once we've had her enough times that she learns to like it."

There were three of the bandits; a big man in metal armor and horned helmet, a smaller man in furs who bore a battle-axe, and a third, armed with a bow, who was further away on a rocky slope that overlooked the path. The one in the heaviest armor, presumably the leader, had been the one speaking. As the bandits closed in, and the Elf girl screamed in terror, the bandit chief reached back over his shoulder and took hold of a massive war-hammer that was slung there.

"You picked a bad time to piss me off," Rhiannon said, letting her loot-sack fall to the ground. She was carrying her mace in her right hand and so she didn't need to take time to draw it. She sprang forward and reached the bandit chief before he could bring his hammer into a striking position. Rhiannon's first blow shattered his elbow and her second sent his horned helmet flying from his fractured skull.

The one with the axe had gone for Etienne, who was defending himself with sword and dagger and seemed to be coping, but the other bandit loosed an arrow and struck Malborn as the two Wood Elves tried to run. Rhiannon went for the bowman, dodging as she saw an arrow being aimed at her, and reached her target without being hit. She raised her mace…

…and then saw that it wasn't a bowman, it was a bow-woman. A tall girl, nearly Rhiannon's own height, with her head shaved except for a Mohawk-style top-knot. Rhiannon remembered other bandit's words, 'The tall one might even make a useful recruit, once we've had her enough times that she learns to like it', and realized that this girl might have been a captive repeatedly raped until her will had been broken and she'd joined her captors' gang.

With that in mind Rhiannon could no longer bring herself to strike a lethal blow. Instead she seized the woman's bow arm, dropped the mace, and, as the archer grabbed for a dagger from her belt, Rhiannon pulled her into a rising knee-strike that drove the breath from the bandit girl's lungs. A rabbit-punch to the back of the neck sent the girl sprawling face-first into the snow. Rhiannon bent and scooped up dagger and bow, tossed the dagger off into the darkness, picked up her mace and then ran to Etienne's aid.

He seemed to be barely holding his own against the axe-wielding bandit, managing to fend off the battle-axe's swings but not getting a chance to strike back. Rhiannon's arrival tipped the scales decisively and, unable to defend himself against opponents on two sides, the bandit went down in seconds.

Next Rhiannon went to Malborn. He had been hit in the backside by the arrow. The serving girl, whose name Rhiannon still hadn't learnt, was fussing over the wound but achieving nothing. Pushing the arrow through was, obviously, impossible and so Rhiannon grabbed the shaft, pulled the arrow out – praying that it wasn't barbed – and then, as Malborn howled with pain, cast her Healing Hands spell.

Once he'd stopped yelling, and the blood had stopped flowing, Rhiannon thrust a healing potion into his hands and went back to the bandit woman. She had managed to get to her feet but that was all.

"I yield, I yield," the girl gasped out as Rhiannon approached. "Please don't kill me."

Rhiannon looked her over. They weren't all that different in height and overall build. The woman wore lightweight hide armor, that looked as if it might well fit Rhiannon, and it was in much better shape than the party dress. There was a movie quote to fit the situation and Rhiannon couldn't resist using it.

"I need your clothes, your boots, and your motorcycle."

"What? I don't understand," the bandit said.

"Take off your armor, and your quiver," Rhiannon clarified, "and give them to me." She thought she saw alarm on the girl's face, although it was hard to be sure in the dim light, but it would be understandable. "You can have this dress," Rhiannon went on, to allay any fears. "It's torn but you'll just have to cope. Tell people you were attacked by a troll, which is how the dress got torn, and they won't know you're a bandit. Maybe you can make an honest life for yourself somewhere."

The woman obeyed, although with obvious reluctance, and Rhiannon pulled off her torn and bloodstained party apparel. They exchanged garments and Rhiannon pulled on the armor. As her head emerged she saw that the bandit girl had drawn another dagger from somewhere, perhaps a boot, and was lunging to catch Rhiannon while she was hampered by the half-donned leathers.

"FUS RO DAH!" The armor didn't hinder Rhiannon using a Shout. The full power of Unrelenting Force struck the bandit, blasted her off her feet, and sent her flying backward to crash into a boulder. Rhiannon finished pulling on the armor and, as soon as she could move freely, snatched up her mace and ran to where the bandit lay.

There had been no need to rush. The woman wasn't going anywhere. A quick examination showed Rhiannon that the impact with the rock had broken the bandit's neck.

"Stupid," Rhiannon muttered. She hadn't wanted to kill the girl and, if she hadn't acted so rashly, there would have been no need. Maybe she'd been in love with one of the dead male bandits and been trying to get revenge, maybe she'd thought she couldn't pass as an innocent – the Mohawk was something of a give-away, it being a style Rhiannon had seen only on bandits here – and had seen fighting as her only option. Rhiannon didn't know and would never find out.

"What in Oblivion was that?" Etienne called, as he came up the slope toward her. "You shouted at her and it hit her like a charging mammoth. Was it… the Voice, like Ulfric Stormcloak used to kill High King Torygg?"

"It was," Rhiannon admitted. "That's how I could risk taking on the Thalmor guards without weapons. I had the Voice in reserve."

"Then you must be… the Dragonborn," Etienne deduced. "I heard there was a Dragonborn again but I thought it was Ria of the Companions."

"My real name is Rhiannon," she revealed, as she slung the quiver of the dead bandit's bow over her shoulder, "but I'd rather you didn't tell anyone I was here. You were rescued by Hanna, Countess of Narnia, from High Rock. I don't want the Thalmor to know where to look."

"Don't blame you," said Etienne. "Don't worry, I won't mention you by name, even to the others in the Guild. Certainly not until Gissur is dead, and probably not even after that. He might not be the only turncoat." Etienne was wearing a fur jerkin now, taken from a dead bandit, and had acquired the bandit's boots to replace those that had belonged to the dead mage in the cave. He was beginning to look more like a dashing rogue and less like a beggar. "If you've finished with… her, we'd better be moving on."

A little further along the road Rhiannon recognized the path that led to the Beacon. "You go on without me," she said to the others. "I want to stop off at Meridia's temple for a while." She hadn't intended to say that and raised her eyebrows as she wondered why the words had come out of her mouth.

Etienne's eyebrows mirrored hers. "Meridia's temple? I wouldn't have taken you for a Daedra worshipper," he said, "but I suppose she's about the best of them, except for Nocturnal, and maybe Azura."

"I'm not a worshipper," Rhiannon said. "I just… know my way around the temple. It will make a good place for me to rest up before I head back to… my companions." That made sense, she supposed, although she still didn't know why she had said it. Her subconscious, she thought, over-riding her rational mind as tiredness, and the come-down from an adrenalin high, began to interfere with her ability to think straight. She went along with it, whatever the reason, and said her goodbyes to the others and then set off for the temple.

A few minutes later she was climbing the steps to the platform on which the statue of Meridia, and the plinth that held Meridia's Beacon, stood. And, as she approached the Beacon, a familiar voice spoke to her.

"So, my Champion, you have come at last," Meridia said. "I have been calling you all day but, as you have set aside Dawnbreaker, it has been hard to get through to you."

"You've been calling me, is it? Why?"

"I have important news for you," Meridia explained, "about your parents. They have been brought to Skyrim."

"My parents? How?"

"I shall tell you more," said Meridia, "but only after I raise you to somewhere we can speak in absolute privacy." As she spoke Rhiannon felt herself leaving the ground and ascending into the air.

"Now we can talk," Meridia said, appearing in front of Rhiannon in the form of a brightly-glowing sphere of pure light. "When last we spoke you asked me to return you to your world. I told you it was beyond my power, and you accepted that, but the very fact that you had been brought here from another world intrigued me. I sought to find out more and discovered that your presence is the result of a pact between Akatosh and Clavicus Vile."

"Clavicus Vile?" Rhiannon tried to remember what she had read about that Daedric Prince in the book in which she had found information on Meridia. "He grants wishes, is it?"

"He does," Meridia confirmed, "although usually in a way that brings woe to the wisher. In your case he was constrained by Akatosh not to do you any harm, other than bringing you to Skyrim – although I believe he did deposit you in an inauspicious, indeed hazardous, place and time."

"He did," Rhiannon said, remembering. "But what has he to do with my parents?"

"Patience, child," said Meridia. "When the dragons returned, and the need arose for a Dragonborn, Akatosh was at a loss. The line of the Dragonborn in Tamriel had died out with Martin Septim. Akatosh searched for one who could fill the role, through all of time and space, until he found you. There were other possibilities, I gather, but only you made a wish that could be used to bring you here. Akatosh could not grant that wish himself and so he called upon Clavicus Vile, in whose sphere the granting of wishes lies, and prevailed upon him to grant yours. In so doing he unwittingly created a link that meant that, when your mother wished to know what had happened to you, Vile was able to grant that wish also. And he did so by transporting your parents, too, to Skyrim. This took place almost simultaneously with your cleansing of this temple, although I was not aware of it at the time."

"So my parents are… where? In Helgen?"

The sphere of light bobbed from side to side in a way that implied Meridia was shaking her head. "No," said the Daedric Prince. "They, too, were positioned so that they would be in danger of execution. They escaped that fate only to fall into the hands of the Forsworn. At present they are in no immediate danger but could not be said to be safe and secure."

"I have to rescue them!" Rhiannon cried.

"You do," Meridia agreed, "and there is no time to lose. You must go at once to Markarth and find a way to establish relations with the Forsworn. If you delay you will lose your best chance to make peaceful contact and rescuing your parents will be much harder."

"But… I have to take these dossiers to Delphine," Rhiannon protested. "I haven't even read them yet, so I don't know how urgent that is."

"Follow my advice," said Meridia. "Return now to the place where you fought the bandits. Higher up the hill from there you will find their camp, deserted now, and you can rest there for the night. Fear not being surprised asleep, for I shall watch over you, and awaken you if any danger threatens. In the morning go to Dragon Bridge, seek out a courier there, and entrust the dossiers to him for delivery. Then go directly to Markarth. I shall inscribe a route upon your map. Follow it, as best you can, and you shall encounter little to trouble you upon the journey."

"Delphine won't be happy about some random courier reading those dossiers," Rhiannon pointed out. "One of them is about her and I'd bet she wouldn't want anyone else to see it."

"And he will not," Meridia promised. "My power to intervene in the mortal sphere is limited, in the absence of an Oblivion Gate, but I have power over light. He will see them only as blank pages. Write a letter to Delphine explaining your absence. That, too, I shall obscure from the sight of mortals other than her and your redoubtable companion Jenassa. I suggest, however, that you tell Jenassa not to seek you out in Markarth but to stay with Delphine. She might prove to be a liability, despite her competence, if you seek to convince the Forsworn that you come in peace."

Meridia had a point, Rhiannon agreed; Jenassa did seem to have a tendency to stab first, talk later. Then a thought struck her. "Did you push me into picking up the pen and paper, is it?"

"I did," Meridia confirmed. "I foresaw the need and planted the thought in your head. I was able to do so only because the Thalmor Embassy is not far away from this temple. At a greater distance I could not have influenced you. Once you leave Haafingar Hold you will be beyond my reach and will not be able to avail yourself of my guidance."

"Well, thanks for what you've done, anyway," said Rhiannon. "You can put me down now."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Rhiannon put down her pen. Writing the letter had been a major undertaking. She had never used a quill pen and inkwell before – in fact she rarely used even a ball-point, as either texting or typing on her lap-top were her normal methods of written communication – and she had struggled to produce legible results. She'd succeeded in the end, though, and the letter was ready.

And she was ready for bed. She had eaten, a venison stew that had been bubbling in a pot above the bandits' fire and that hadn't been unattended long enough to have burned, and had read the dossiers she had acquired. They had made interesting reading, particularly the one about Delphine, but the dossier on dragons had confirmed that the Thalmor knew no more about the return of the dragons than Delphine did; less, in fact.

At least she was fairly well equipped for her mission to Markarth. She had a sword now, a fine Elven weapon, that had been worn as a side-arm by the big bandit she had slain with her mace. His war-hammer, too unwieldy for her to use effectively, she'd salvaged anyway because it held a Shock enchantment. It would be valuable, if sold, or alternatively she could Disenchant it to learn how to endow other weapons with that power. And she had a passable bow, a score of arrows, three daggers and a mace, plus a good stock of potions. The bandit girl's armor fit her reasonably well and would serve until she could recover the Savior's Hide. All she lacked was a companion.

She felt lonely, now the others had gone, and if Etienne had been here she'd have been seriously tempted to invite him into her bed; even though her period hadn't quite finished, and she still hadn't sorted out how sex outside of marriage was regarded in this society. Probably it was for the best that he had gone his own way. But she would have felt much better if Jenassa were here.

For a moment she considered making a wish to that effect but rejected the idea. Clavicus Vile sounded as if he shared with the Vengeance Demons from the Buffyverse the tendency to interpret wishes in the worst possible way. She'd be well advised to avoid the 'W' word, not just now but for as long as she was in Skyrim, in case he was listening in. She put the thought aside, took off her weaponry, lay down on a bed-roll and, within minutes, was asleep.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Two days later, after some hard traveling, she was at the gates of Markarth. Meridia's route had, indeed, been fairly trouble-free. The only things that had bothered her had been three wolves, one of those horrible rat-like skeevers, and a bear. The smaller predators she had killed without much trouble; the bear she had been able to calm with the Kyne's Peace Shout long enough for her to get out of its territory. She'd even stumbled upon a half-buried chest containing some valuable treasure.

Not too dangerous a journey, thankfully, but it had been arduous. She was tired, very tired, when she reached the city and wanted nothing more than to find an inn and collapse into a bed. The guards at the gates told her that there was a suitable establishment, the Silver-Blood Inn, almost immediately opposite the gate within the city. She thanked them and went through…

…just in time to witness a murder.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

English meanings of Welsh phrases:

· Mae hi wedi cachi arna i = I'm buggered

· mochyn = swine

English meanings of Dovahzul (Dragon language) phrases:

· Sahloknir, krii daar joorre = Sahloknir, kill these mortals

· Yol Toor Shul = Fire Inferno Sun