Chapter 11

Tirdas, the 12th of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

Daenerys hadn't slept well since being incarcerated in Cidhna Mines. A thin blanket couldn't make hard stone comfortable, and she had been very much aware of being one of three women surrounded by men. She always slept up against the wall with Eltrys on her other side. She slept even worse in Nchuand-Zel, because she was unable to shut out the sounds of Eola coupling with the Forsworn. She didn't know if such a spectacle was the custom of the Forsworn, or not. Perhaps they were like the Dothraki and considered sex to be a source of entertainment. Whether it was Forsworn custom or not, Eola was deliberately putting on a show with exaggerated sighs and cries as she encouraged her lovers. The Rat Priestess coupled with Madanach first, then Borkul the Beast, and two men after that Madanach loudly declared were to be 'rewarded' for their exceptional valor. Daenerys didn't want to watch, but she couldn't sleep either, not until they were done. Even then she slept restlessly. She knew that Eltrys was married, but she still clung to his back for warmth and comfort.

She woke up abruptly as Eltrys was jostled. She opened her eyes to see Odvan shaking him.

"Wake up, Eltrys." His words were quiet but urgent. "I need to speak with her."

Daenerys sat up and automatically checked to see if the Mace of Molag Bal had returned to her. She wasn't surprised to find it lying next to her. She grabbed it and stood up while Eltrys mumbled something. He was not quite asleep, but not yet fully awake. She carefully stepped over him. "What is it, Odvan?"

"I need to speak with you," repeated Odvan. "Hey, what's with the mace? Just talk."

"I heard." Daenerys put down the mace. Eltrys was finally sitting up and rubbing his eyes in confusion. She ignored him and looked to Odvan. "There, no more mace, so speak with me."

"Okay." He hesitated for a moment and then blurted out. "It's about your hair."

"My hair?"

"Last night, I thought it was a sign of approval from the gods. White hair is a sign of age and with age comes wisdom or something, but later I couldn't sleep and I realized… Your hair, your eyes, and your name. Danyen. Dan-Yen. Daenerys Targaryen. You're her. You're the Dragonborn."

"What?" asked Eltrys.

Daenerys sighed. She should have picked a different name. Too late now. "Yes, I'm the Dragonborn. Who else knows?"

"I don't know," replied Odvan. "I figured it out for myself. No one else has come to me about it, but it's obvious isn't it? The clues are all there."

"I hope it isn't obvious." It occurred to her that she had underestimated Odvan. Yes, he had agreed too easily to Madanach's escape plan, but she couldn't blame him for being desperate to escape. Even a few days had taught her that life in Cidhna Mines was misery. Other than being too eager to accept Madanach's offer, Odvan had seemed to be a cunning and effective leader. He was heavy-handed at times, but he was the boss of a prison gang not the jarl of a city. Despite the racial mix of his gang, he kept them fed and put down fights with a minimum of violence. "Do you think others know?"

"If they do, no one has said anything, but everyone went to sleep. The Forsworn might not get it because there haven't been any new Forsworn convicts lately. So, they probably wouldn't have heard of you, but we've had three Bretons join the gang since news of the Dragonborn reached Markarth. I'd be surprised if none of them figure it out."

Eltrys scoffed from his seated position between them. "As if anyone is thinking down here. We're all scared we're going to die tomorrow. Not to mention we all went to sleep dreaming of the rat-slut priestess. We're desperate for a miracle at least I was. I don't think many will look deeper than that."

Daenerys hoped that was true. "Are you going to tell anyone, Odvan?"

"I don't know. Why did you keep it secret? Why all of it? Why would you come to Markarth? I can understand not wanting to fight more dragons. Who would? But why were you pretending to be a Breton? Why didn't you just Shout your way out of the mines? Why didn't you Shout when we were fighting the chaurus? You could have saved a lot of men."

"I didn't plan to come to Markarth. It wasn't my choice. I got separated…" She couldn't think of a good lie, so she just pressed on. "When I arrived, I didn't dare announce myself. There are Thalmor in the city. I started working for Eltrys because I needed money. Even down here in the mines, I didn't say anything because I didn't want the guards to find out. If they knew I was the Dragonborn, they might have dragged me out of the mines and given me to the Thalmor. If my Shouts were strong enough to blow down a portcullis, I would have done so already. They're strong, but not that powerful. As for the chaurus, Shouting takes magicka. I could have done something, but there were people in the way. I was doing just as much good if not more healing." Yet, people had still died. "I still don't want to say anything. I don't trust the Forsworn, Odvan. If they turn on us, then being able to Shout might make the difference."

Odvan frowned while she was explaining, but in the end he nodded. "You shouldn't have come to Markarth. That was a mistake, but I can understand why you hid and kept quiet about it even down here. You're also right about not trusting the Forsworn. We've lost too many men already. So, we keep it secret and hope that Eltrys is right and no one notices. He might be right. Everyone is too busy trying to survive to think things through, but there are gaps in your story. You're still hiding things. I'll keep your secrets, but I want answers from you. No more surprises."

Daenerys nodded her agreement, but she didn't plan on telling Odvan everything. "Very well, what do you want to know?"

"We'll have to talk about it later. We have a meeting with the Forsworn to go to now."

"Alright, later then. Lead the way to this meeting." She was perfectly happy to postpone having to share her secrets with Odvan. She looked back to Eltrys. "We'll talk later now, and don't touch the mace."

He nodded. "I know. You warned me. Several times. Be careful with the Forsworn."

She followed Odvan to a corner of the room where they met with Madanach and Eola to plan the day's march. The plan was essentially the same as before. She was to cast Candlelight and Clairvoyance. Eola would conserve her magicka for healing.

Their exploration of the Dwemer ruins continued much as it left off. They seemed to be in an area of Nchuand-Zel that the Falmer avoided, likely because of the sheer number of traps. They encountered pit traps, traps that shot darts, traps that shot out jets of steam, and more of the scything blade traps. They also had to deal with automatons, Dwemer mechanical constructs that moved and attacked as if they were alive.

The most common of these constructs were dwarven spiders. They were also the smallest and least dangerous. They were almost the size of a dog but resembled a spider. They scurried about on six legs and attacked by lashing out with two sharp claws that could easily rend flesh. Individually they weren't that dangerous, but they never attacked as individuals. They attacked in twos and threes. That made them more dangerous, but they had enough men to surround and overwhelm them. That didn't help save one Forsworn who fell into a pit trap. Three of the things attacked and ripped him to pieces before they were able to get him out. They were lucky it was only one man dead. The injured could be healed so they could press on.

More dangerous than the dwarven spiders were the dwarven spheres. They resembled large metal balls at first. They would roll up under their own power and then unfold into a mechanical Dwemer warrior with wheels instead of legs. Whether as a sphere or unfolded, the automatons moved as fast as a man could run. They were armed with a wickedly sharp blade in one hand and a crossbow in their other hand. They wielded both with deadly power, speed, and precision. Worse, the spheres could shrug off blows that would kill a man and were willing to take a blow in order to strike. They lost three men to the first one. After that Madanch put Borkul the Beast up front with one of the heavy Falmer shields. Borkul got cut up pretty badly in the next attack, but they only lost one man.

Daenerys was surprised by the tenderness she saw in Eola as the Forsworn priestess healed Borkul. After Eola's performance the previous night, she hadn't expected her to actually care. It didn't match her impression of Eola at all.

Once Borkul was healed, Madanach called a break for another planning session. "We're losing too many men to the dwarven spheres, and we don't have lives to spare. Danyen, you're better than Eola with Destruction magic. Can you do something to help take them out?"

Daenerys frowned. She had good reasons for keeping her ability to Shout secret. What she had told Odvan about not trusting the Forsworn was true, but she had also been thinking about her political future once they were free. If they escaped Nchuand-Zel, there was a good chance that Madanach would be able to take Markarth by using the tunnels to bypass the walls. She did not want the Dragonborn and the Dragonguard associated with the fall of Markarth to the Forsworn. Nords were divided about many things particularly by their religion and their loyalty to the Empire. However, nearly all Nords agreed on hating the Reachmen. The Forsworn were despised for being daedra worshiping cannibal savages. From what she had seen, the Nords were correct. She had ridden in a Dothraki khalasar and the Forsworn were every bit as savage as the Dothraki. The Forsworn just weren't as successful at it as the Dothraki. If she had any other choice, she wouldn't be allied with them. She did not like them. She trusted Odvan and the Breton gang. She did not trust the Forsworn. They were at best allies of circumstance.

However, there was no other choice. They were all trapped together in this dead city. At least for now, they were her allies, and men were dying. The dwarven automatons did not distinguish between Breton and Foresworn, nor did they go down easily. If she joined the front line, she could save lives with her Shouts – provided that she didn't get killed by a trap or an automaton. It would be safer to say nothing. She could just stay back and heal. However, she was no longer the girl who let her dragons and others fight for her. She was a mage. She was a warrior. She had faced dragons. She was not going to hide when she could make a difference.

"I can help," she declared. "I'll need to be in front, so I'll need a chitin shield." Mostly because of the crossbows on the dwarven spheres. "I'll need some time to practice with the front liners. They need to get out of my way when I yell, 'Clear!' and close ranks when I pull back to recover magicka."

"Hmm," said Madanach. "I didn't think you would volunteer to be in front. I expected you to lob spells from behind. Are you sure that you can hold your own?"

Daenerys laughed and gave her mace a twirl. "I guess you didn't know. I'm an adventurer. I've explored ruins before. Nchuand-Zel isn't much different from a Nord barrow. The traps are nastier, so are the monsters, but everything is still trying to kill us. I can handle myself, but I had allies who knew when to get out of my way, which is why I want to practice first." A good part of that speech was bravado. She'd worn armor before when she went in dungeons and she'd been with people she trusted, but she could do this.

"Then why have you been hanging back with me?" asked Eola. "We lost a lot of good men against the chaurus."

Daenerys shrugged. "Against Falmer and traps, it made sense to stay back. I do more good healing and lighting up the battlefield so we can see. Even against the dwarven spiders, that would still be true. Against those dwarven spheres? Madanach is right. We need to hit them harder. I can do that. I can help put the spheres down harder." Hopefully, it would be just spheres. She'd fought a dwarven centurion once in a Falmer cave outside of Whiterun. It had been damaged, and it had still been a nightmare.

"It's her life she's risking," said Odvan. "Give her a chance."

"Very well," agreed Madanach. "Get the men together and practice. Show us what you can do."

The corridors of Nchuand-Zel were broad enough that her front line consisted of four men. She stood in the second line with another man on each side of her. Borkul carried a shield on each arm and played the role of the attacking automatons. Rather than Shouting she used Frostbite and made a point to blast anyone who didn't move out of the way fast enough when she shouted for them to clear. She healed them afterward, but they quickly learned to get out of her way when she needed to cast. They weren't anywhere near in the class of the Dragonguard, but after six repetitions Daenerys was satisfied.

She looked over to Madanach who had been watching the whole time. "I think we're as ready as we'll get down here."

"I agree." Madanach stroked his horseshoe mustache. "Although, I was thinking about your mace. I notice you left it by Odvan because you need to have your hand free to cast."

"My preference is to wear a bracer attached to my left forearm that leaves my hand free to cast, but we don't have any bracers." She wasn't complaining. She was just working with what she had. "Not to mention I might need the shield if one of those dwarven spheres aims a crossbow at me. I'll carry the mace in my right hand and drop it if I need to cast."

"That mace is not a normal conjuration," observed Eola. "It looks like a bound daedra, but I can sense the power in it. It's an impressive weapon. Better than anyone else has. It's also odd that I've never seen you use any other Conjuration."

Daenerys shrugged. "Regardless, I don't see where it matters."

"It matters because the spheres are difficult to damage, and you aren't planning on using it in combat," said Madanach. "If you loaned it to one of our front-line fighters, such as Borkul or one of the Bretons, it could make a difference."

She paused to consider that before replying. On one hand, automatons were just machines. They didn't have souls to steal. However, on the other hand, if she willingly gave the mace away, would it then have a new owner? It seemed likely, and that wasn't a risk she was willing to take. She didn't want the mace, but she wasn't going to give it out for someone else to send souls to Molag Bal. It was her burden to bear. "No. The mace belongs to me. It is a relic, and I will not part with it."

"Really?" asked Eola. "A relic? Hmm, I've never heard of a relic of Talos in the form of a mace. In fact, I can really only think of one god who has a relic that is a mace." She laughed. "He's certainly not Talos… although Talos may be his bright side. How very interesting."

Daenerys ignored her and stared at Madanach. "I already agreed to join the vanguard. I'm not giving away that mace."

"I support Danyen in this," declared Odvan. "As will the rest of the Bretons. The mace is hers. If you want one like it go find your own."

Madanach frowned at him. "Fine. We're wasting time. Let's get moving."

"Not yet," disagreed Odvan. "I would like a word with Danyen first. Then I think you should practice some more."

"Hurry up and get your talking done." Madanach stomped off to speak with Eola.

"We'll be quick," replied Odvan. He gestured off to the side and beckoned Daenerys to join him.

Daenerys followed him curious as to what he wanted. She stepped close and lowered her voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Thank you for standing up for me about the mace."

His scowl relaxed but didn't go away. "You're welcome. You're more than I thought you were, but you're still a Breton to me. I look out for my people. I'll beat the shite out of them if I have to, but I look out for them. Two things. First, that mace. What is it?"

"It's cursed," said Daenerys. "It is a relic, as I said, but not of Talos, and it's attached to me. I don't conjure the mace. It comes to me when I need it and sometimes when I don't."

"If it's cursed, why don't you want to get rid of it? What is the curse?"

Daenerys paused and looked around to make sure no one could hear them. She considered lying to Odvan, but Eola had already hinted at recognizing the mace. "It's a relic of Molag Bal, and it's evil."

"Molag Bal!" cursed Odvan in disbelief, but he did have the sense to swear quietly.

"Yes, Molag Bal, and I think Eola knows. If she doesn't, she at least suspects. I won't give the mace up. As I said, it's pure evil. It doesn't just kill. It claims the souls of its victims for Molag Bal. Think about that for a moment. Think of how bad Cidhna Mine is, but it never ends, and you are being tortured all the time. That's what happens to anyone killed by this mace. I would destroy it if I could, but I won't just loan it out. I refuse to send a single soul to Molag Bal."

"Oblivion," swore Odvan. "Fine. It's yours. You keep it. Keep it far away from me. The other thing, you're planning on Shouting?"

Daenerys nodded. "I'll try to avoid it, but if we run into another dwarven sphere, then yes. Is that a problem?"

"Shouting, no. It would have been nice to have kept it a secret, but those spheres are killing us. Shout them into bits. However, you should tell them now and practice. During battle is not the time for a sudden reveal to your allies. It might get someone killed."

"You're right." She felt foolish for not thinking that through. "I was just hoping it wouldn't be necessary, but I don't see our journey suddenly getting easier." She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Odvan. I guess it is time to let this secret loose. Most of the Bretons will know immediately, won't they?"

Odvan shrugged. "Some of them. Others will take time. The Forsworn wouldn't be much behind. I could hail you as the Dragonborn if you like. We might as well make the most out of it."

Daenerys nodded her approval. Odvan had good instincts. "Agreed. Just Daenerys Targaryen and the Dragonborn. We don't need my other titles here." Too many titles wouldn't go over well with these convicts. They were common men, not nobles.

"You have other titles?" asked Odvan. "We can talk of that later, everyone is waiting on us."

"Yes, later," she agreed. They returned back and she had the front line set up for another round without Borkul as the pretend target. This time she kept Molag Bal's mace in her hand and Shouted "Yol!" rather than casting Frostbite. She was not surprised when everyone stopped and looked at her. They didn't kneel like the Nords did, but the Bretons were clearly in awe. The Forsworn looked mostly confused.

Odvan broke the awed hush. "All hail Daenerys Targaryen, Priestess of Talos and the Dragonborn."

Borkul the Beast grinned broadly and laughed. "Now things are getting fun."