Here's another small chapter - hope you guys enjoy it!
Shoutout to the latest user that's favourited my story, buetly - I hope you enjoy this chapter!
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SirAC - Thank you! Okay, I'll be sure to include those! And 'Mad Mage Skillz' are en route I promise - I've already figured out how it's going to be coming around - as Heath Ledger once said "It's all part of the plan".
Chapter Eleven
Cold. Numb. Wet.
The snow bit at my ears, wetted my hair and froze my skin. I shuddered, bringing my gnashed fingers up to my arms, my muscles aching. I tried to open my eyes, only to be greeted by a howling wind that glared into my eyes. I shut my eyes quickly, and proceeded move backwards, as if to escape the wind. I felt a freezing object hit my back, stopping me from moving any further. I brought my knees up to my chest and dropped my head onto them. I just wanted to lie here forever. I wanted to lie here and die.
Wait a moment... die?
My hands flew to my stomach, where I felt a long and narrow pain along the side of my torso. I groaned and dropped my head back, lolling onto the stone mound. I opened my eyes as I remembered everything that had transpired. How could he? I mean, why? From what I had heard, he had betrayed the former Guildmaster, Gallus. I didn't know why though. Or why he had tried to kill me either.
This awakened one thought in my head - why was I alive? I felt myself dying as he stabbed me. I felt the blade twist into my gut, and yet somehow he had failed to kill me. How?
I flickered open my eyes once more, this time enduring the snowy whirlwind in my eyes. I brought my hands up to the stone behind me, which felt like pure icicles forming around my hands. As I stood up, leaning on the stone mound, I began to steady myself, grabbing the wound on my stomach. My legs instantly began to buckle, and I collapsed onto the stone mound in pain.
"Easy, easy! Don't get up so quickly." I felt a pair of hands grasp me. Instinctively I flinched away, but her grip was different to other people's - her hands were gentle and were supporting my weight - not like Mercer who would grab you in a vice grip. I looked up to the woman who had spoken - her clothes were more like rags, with the burnt edges of her greying armour being soaked by the rain. A long curved bow was strapped to the matching black quiver mounted on her back. "How are you feeling?" I sat down on the mound, resting my head between my knees, feeling as though I was about to be sick. I gradually looked up at her, examining her face: I could just about make out the very light blue skin and matching eyes. She was a Dunmer - a dark elf. I had read about them - native to Morrowind. I coughed, which prevented me from inquiring into her race - which I guess would have been impolite anyway. As I coughed though, I grabbed my chest and remembered the scruffily made arrow, and then looked up to the Dunmer's quiver - which was full of Raven and Hawk feathers.
"Hold on," I said, realizing who she was, "you shot me!"
"No, I saved your life." She insisted. I pushed myself up from the rock, trying to get away from her, but she simply caught me before I hit the ground and placed me back on the stone mound. "My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out." I thought for a moment, examining her resolve. I knew that Dunmer were, generally, dishonest. "Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation." I scoffed - although I was a seventeen year old boy who had one hand on the wound in his chest, and the other on the wound on his stomach - I was hardly a fierce warrior. This woman was at least fifty! I took a few deep, freezing cold breaths.
"So why do it? Why save me?"
"My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death." She stated in a matter-of-fact way. I nodded, seeing as she had a point - regardless of what had happened, she had prevented my death. But there was something about her I didn't trust - she was a Dunmer... I knew it was wrong to distrust someone because of their race but the stereotypes came about for a reason.
Besides, I couldn't even trust my Guild Master.
"Why should I believe you?"
"Without the antidote I administered, you'd be as still as a statue. I treated your wounds and didn't leave you defenseless." She sighed and clenched her arms as she looked away from me. "The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect." She muttered, angry at herself. "I only had enough for a single shot and yet I used it on you. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive." She said, frustrated.
"Why alive? I thought you would want him dead."
"Mercer must be brought to the Guild to answer for what he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus' murder."
"And how are you going to prove that now? I mean, no offence, but I don't think they'd take your word over Mercer's."
"My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus' remains. I suspect the information we need is inside." It all fitted perfectly - Mercer's betrayal, Karliah saving my life - I could find no flaw or lie in the story. Whether Mercer was a traitor or not before all this had happened was irrelevant - he was now a traitor for sure.
"Well, what's it say?"
"I wish I knew." She sighed - her eyes dropped into a look of despair. "The journal is written in some sort of language I've never seen before." She sat down next to me and put her head in her hands. I could only imagine what she was feeling. If she had been trying to find a way to prove herself innocent against Mercer's claims for all these years, only to now have it all slip away, I would feel as helpless as she must have. I also felt guilty - I was the one who was responsible for him getting away - if I wasn't there, she would've been able to shoot him instead of me.
"Perhaps it can be translated?" I asked hopefully, trying to help rectify the situation. "I mean, Brynjolf will know what to do. Maybe there's a book we can steal-"
"Enthir." She said suddenly.
"What?"
"Gallus' friend at the College of Winterhold... of course."
"What are you talking about?" I asked as she stood up, no longer distraught or desperate - I could see her eyes flickering about, showing the mechanics of her mind working in overdrive.
"It's the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity."
"Nightingale?" Karliah suddenly began to shift uneasily.
"I suppose you're the only one who'll believe me now." She sighed once more. "There were three of us. Myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften." She shook her head. "I'll tell you more about it later, Right now you need to head for Winterhold with the journal and get the translation." She said, handing me the journal - an old and tattered brown book with a strange metal insignia on it - a nightbird cradling a moon with it's wings.
"Why me?" I asked. "Just once, I wish I could do something, and that would be the end of it all - right now I feel like the end of one job leads to another."
"Doesn't the end of one day lead to another?" She pointed out. "I cannot trust anyone else to do this, and I need to figure out where Mercer will have gone."
"Then you translate the journal - I'll take care of Mercer."
"You?" She tittered. "You're a boy."
"I'm old enough to take care of him!"
"Really? You don't even carry a blade."
"I don't need one."
"Oh, I know - you were the one who opened the puzzle door weren't you? Impressive, but Mercer has thirty-three years of experience on you. I promise, Mercer will be brought to justice, but now is not the right time. I've been waiting twenty-five years - you can afford to wait a little longer."
I reluctantly nodded and took the journal, placing it in one of my pouches on my belt. then began to crunch through the snow towards my horse, only to find it lying dead in the snow.
"Jak." I said, examining the limp animal. I made out several sword wounds across the creature - the most prominent being a long gash along it's underbelly, staining the pure white snow with it's scarlet blood. I shook my head in anger. It was Mercer. He was taking no chances - he had killed my horse. I stood up, uncertain of what to do. I looked up to the dark night sky and examined the stars. Eventually, I found the brightest star, which meant North must be behind me.
I turned around and began to crunch through the snow on my journey to Winterhold.
I opened the door, shaking off the snow from my hood. I pulled it down and looked around the tavern. It was fairly full - every table occupied. I moved over to the inn keeper, who examined me carefully.
"I'm looking for Enthir." He grunted and nodded towards a figure sitting alone by the wall, drinking from a tankard. I nodded my thanks and walked over to him.
He was a Bosmer - a wood elf. His slightly green skin glistened in the candlelight, and he wore a series of rich robes, blue and red and white, and carried a satchel across his chest. I had heard stories about the Bosmer before - they were adepts with a bow. I heard that they had actually invented it - they were, without a doubt, the best archers in Tamriel. They usually kept to themselves - living in the woods, living off the forest and it's inhabitants.
I sat down beside him, waiting for him to notice me. He eventually did, and rolled his eyes in frustration.
"Yes, yes, what is it?"
"I've been sent by Karliah." I informed him.
"Ah." He nodded, putting the tankard on the table. "Then she's finally found it."
"You mean the journal?" He nodded, and extended a hand. "There's a problem with it." I tried to explain.
"A problem? Let me see it." I opened my pouch and took out the journal, handing it to him. He flipped through a couple of pages and then realized the problem. He closed his eyes and hung his head. "This is just like Gallus. A dear friend, but always too clever for his own good..." He laughed a little, like he was reminiscing about the man. He looked back to me with a slight smile. "He's written all of the text in the Falmer language."
"Falmer language?" I asked, puzzled. What little I had heard about Falmer were that they were goblin-like creatures that dwelled in mountains. They actually had a language? I had never heard of one speaking before. "Well, you can read it then? Can you translate it?"
"I can recognize it." He corrected me. "And no, I cannot. However, I know someone who might." He began to drink from his tankard again.
"Well, who is it?"
"Patience boy, patience. I'd wager that the court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, may have the materials you need to get this journal translated." He closed the journal and handed it back to me. I took it, but he remained holding it for a moment. "A word of warning: Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won't be easy."
"Regardless, I will return with the materials you need." I took the journal back, placing it back into my pouch.
"I'd advise discretion in your dealings up in Markarth - there are many people who ill-favour the Thieves Guild." Enthir warned me.
"You don't need to tell me twice."
