Mercer led the way. His lantern was held at eye-level in front of him and cast dancing shadows across the walls and ceiling. The stone was old, rough hewn and broken in some places, and there was a thick layer of dust coating the floor.
This place must be ancient...
But Issana could tell right away that they weren't the first to come through. The dust had been disturbed many times, brushed aside in swathes by footsteps and dragged objects. Tomb robbers, most likely. Mercer hadn't exactly been forthcoming on the history of this place, but she knew enough to recognize a crypt when she was in one.
Being inside a crypt felt a little too prophetic for her liking.
Mercer stopped and Issana almost walked into him. He lowered the lamp to illuminate the floor, revealing ancient steps that fell downwards into the gloom. Only the first few were visible in the dim light. Mercer stiffened momentarily as if he'd heard something, but took a cautious step onto the first stair. Issana listened hard but heard nothing except the sound of her own breathing. Mercer held up a finger to tell her to stay, then crept down the stairs.
He must have reached the bottom because the flicker of his lamp began moving horizontally again, but Issana could only guess. Mercer's light stopped, bobbed momentarily and then moved back and forth in a beckon. Issana followed silently.
If they were in a room, the only indication Issana had was that she couldn't see the walls. The floor was smooth and well-shaped, different from the rocky hall through which they'd entered. Mercer raised the lamp to illuminate his face and mouthed something Issana didn't catch in the weak light. She frowned. Mercer rolled eyes and mouthed again, exaggerating his syllables: Find. Door. He pointed to himself and gestured over his shoulder, then at her and the other way.
Issana nodded and turned around. She held the candle-lamp as far out in front of her as she could and gripped her sword tightly. She took one step, then two, then three, each time with slow, deliberate caution.
She'd made it nearly ten feet with no sign of a wall when something rattled loudly from the other side of the room. Mercer swore aloud and she heard him fumbling with something; the rattling increased for a moment and then stopped. Issana realized she'd been holding her breath. She crept back towards Mercer and saw him steadying what appeared to be some sort of crude decoration, a series of bones tied together with string and attached to the ceiling. Issana glared at him.
And you wanted me to be quiet.
Then behind her, something growled.
She spun. Mercer grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her backwards. She hit the floor as an axe, an ancient, rusty slab of metal, slammed down between her feet. She held out her lamp, desperate to see her attacker-
Eyeless sockets. Grey skin like shriveled leather. Shreds of cloth still hanging from its limbs. Lipless mouth peeled open in a feral snarl.
It swung again. Issana felt a shriek of terror rip itself from her throat and Mercer lunged forwards. Issana scrambled backwards along the ground; her scream became a rapid stream of panicked gasps, and Mercer's sword came down once, twice, three times on the creature's head.
It fell, skull caved inwards.
Issana had her hands over her mouth in horror, muffling her shrieks of hysteria. Mercer sprang at her and added his own hand to silence her even further. "That's enough!"
His voice seemed to be coming from far away. Mercer dropped his lantern, grabbed her shoulder and shook her violently. "Issana!"
Her voice quieted. Mercer released her. Her heartbeat didn't steady, but she regained enough control to point at the corpse and stammer between gasps, "What-what is that?"
Mercer glanced over at it. "A draugr."
"What-" she forced out, "-in Oblivion-is a draugr?"
"Be quiet!" Mercer hissed. "Do you want to wake more of them?"
Issana stared at him. "More?"
"More." Mercer stood up. "Just be careful. And follow my lead."
"You didn't want to warn me?" Issana spat. She could feel her fear being driven away by fury. "Maybe a simple 'By the way, Issana, watch where you step because the bloody dead aren't bloody dead!'" Her voice went shrill and she could feel the hysteria threatening to return.
"That's enough! By Oblivion, girl, I thought you'd be braver. Get up."
"Braver!?" Issana exclaimed. "That's a corpse, you bastard! A living, walking corpse that tried to kill me!"
"Yes. Now if you don't want to get us both killed, would you please shut up?"
Issana bit back a retort. Fine, you son of a bitch. But I swear, if you get me killed here… She got up and looked around for her sword. The draugr had fallen on top of it. Damn it. Issana grabbed the hilt, trying not to look at the withered body, and pulled.
The draugr moved. Issana threw herself backwards and clamped her teeth shut against the shriek that threatened to burst free again.
Mercer stared at her, hands holding onto the draugr's grotesque limbs as he rolled it over again to move it out of the way. Really? he mouthed, and thrust the handle of her sword at her. Issana hesitated for a long moment, then took it gingerly.
Why in Oblivion did you bring me, Mercer? If you knew these-these things were going to be here, you knew I was going to be useless. You should have warned me! You-you…
Her thoughts trailed away. Mercer was already gone, his faint lamp swaying back and forth again as he hunted for the room's exit. Issana stayed where she was. You want me to go blundering around in the dark with those things around? No. Not going to happen.
"Here," Mercer whispered.
Issana crossed the room towards him as his candlelight disappeared around a corner. Damn it, Mercer. She hurried and caught up with him at the top of another staircase. It was wide enough that the light from their candles didn't reach the walls to either side. "Mercer."
He looked at her, his expression showing his irritation.
"What else haven't you told me?"
"Nothing."
"Damn it, Mercer! You haven't told me anything! So start talking. What did Karliah mean by 'Where the end began'? What is this place? And how is she here with these draugr? Is she controlling them?"
Mercer clenched his teeth, but relented. "She means the Guild. She wants to end us, and this is where she began it when she murdered Gallus." He paused to listen for a moment. "And no, she isn't controlling the draugr. She just knows how to hide here without waking them."
"Like not knocking into bone rattles?"
Mercer glared at her. "I wasn't expecting it. Karliah set it so we'd wake the draugr."
"Won't they kill her too? Why don't we just wake them all and leave?"
"Because I need to know that this is over. And Maven won't believe it unless we bring back Karliah's head."
"Lovely. I don't want to carry it."
Mercer took a single step onto the staircase. "Be careful. It won't just be Karliah's traps down here. The ancient Nords weren't exactly friendly to grave robbers."
No, I'm pretty sure the walking corpses made that clear.
The silence seemed to grow thicker, darker, as they descended the stairs. Issana wished she could make a sound just to reassure herself that the world itself hadn't gone quiet but she dared not. Even Mercer seemed to become more on edge as they progressed. The further they went, the quieter she felt she had to be, for Divines only knew how many more of the creatures were lurking in the darkness. They could be right beside her, just inches beyond the glow of the candle, sleeping, just waiting for her to make a sound.
That was the thing about darkness. You didn't know what was out there.
It was that much worse when you knew that there was something, but you didn't know where.
One of the boys at the orphanage had told stories about monsters in the dark when they were children. Grelod locked him in the cellar with all the rats. He didn't tell stories after that.
But this was real.
Had it been five minutes now? Fifteen? Issana didn't know. The staircase was still descending. The lamps cast flickering shapes on the stones around her, shadows that crawled like many-legged spiders.
When at last they reached the bottom, Issana stopped and let Mercer continue carefully forward, his hand holding out the lamp out to light the way. He stopped as the glow washed over a heavy set of double doors. Some of the wood had rotted away, leaving dark holes like empty eyes staring back at them. Mercer studied it, unmoving.
Issana strained her eyes to the left and tried to see the wall. She couldn't. She took a small step. Still no wall. The candlelight rippled on the floor. Another step. There was something, some sort of darker space. Another step.
Just at the edge of the glow Issana could see stone. The wall had a gap in it, too straight to be damage but too narrow to be another hall. The candle glinted off something within the opening. Issana hesitated. Metal? Water?
One last step.
And then she saw it. A statue. A man, tall, standing straight, clasping a sword vertically with its point resting on the raised floor of the niche in which he stood. His face was dark beneath his horned helmet.
But in the candlelight, Issana could see his hands. They were grey, dessicated. Dead.
Draugr.
Issana stumbled back in shock. She collided with Mercer and they both whirled. Draugr! Issana mouthed, pointing over her shoulder. Mercer nodded and gestured to the opposite wall. There too.
Issana raised her sword questioningly but Mercer shook his head and pointed at the door. He mimed opening and closing it and pointed at the little pouch of thieves' tools Issana kept at her belt. Issana knew immediately what he meant and withdrew two vials of oil. She handed one over.
But to apply it to the hinges… That meant crouching in the shadow of the draugr, letting it loom over her and stare at her back with its soulless eye sockets…
I thought you'd be braver. Mercer's words echoed through her mind. Issana gritted her teeth. So did I.
There was no alternative. Mercer was already setting his lamp down to start on the right side. Issana swallowed hard and stepped up to the left. She put her lamp down without a sound and cast a look over her shoulder. She couldn't see the draugr. But she knew it was there.
She uncorked the vial and dripped it over the hinges. For all she knew Karliah might have already done this, but it was better to waste a bit of oil than to guess wrong and have the door wail when it was opened. She spread the oil across the hinges with practiced fingers. It didn't take long. She wiped the last bit off her fingers with her shirt before stepping back towards the centre of the hall, and Mercer joined her thirty seconds later. Issana felt a bit of smug satisfaction, her fear momentarily eclipsed by the knowledge that she was so much better at this than Mercer.
Mercer grabbed one door and beckoned for Issana to take the other. One, he mouthed. Two…
On three they both pulled. The doors swung apart, only the faintest squeal from Mercer's side breaking the silence. They stepped through and tugged the doors closed behind them.
Issana stood perfectly still for a long moment, listening. There was no sound from the other side of the door. The draugr seemed content to remain asleep. Mercer looked at the door, then at her, and his shoulders rose and fell in a sigh of relief.
Issana turned to survey the room as best she could, but the candlelight revealed nothing. She stepped forward, eyes struggling to pierce the gloom.
That was when she hit the tripwire.