A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Spent some time in the hospital and that slowed me down a bit. But I'm back now and chapters should be coming out more regularly. Please leave a review or throw me a PM and let me know what you think. Enjoy. Edward
And now here she was in the dwemer ruin of Raldbthar. She found that she loved this part. The hunt for her target. The blood of the four bandits spreading on the floor behind her. This is what she lived for. She was in her element. She was The White Deathbell.
Sable stalked silently in the shadows of a corridor that sloped down further into the earth. Large cylindrical pipes ran along the wall to her right. Not knowing anything about the old dwarven technology, she stayed away from them except when she was forced close to them in order to stay unseen in the shadows. At the bottom of the ramped hallway, the assassin came across her first real barrier.
The bandits had found an old dwemer fire trap and had cleverly rigged it to be constantly spewing a line of fire across the front of the gate on the far side of the room. Killing two birds with one stone, they had also set up a spit, using the same spout of fire to roast several skeever. There was no going around, through, or under the fire trap. There was an opening to another corridor to her left. She began to sneak toward the alternate route, hoping it would circle around in some way and still lead her to Alain Dufont.
After a couple of steps in, the new passage cut sharply to her right and sloped down putting the assassin on a course further still into the ground. She guessed that this was a high traffic passageway since it was much more well lit than some of the others. Up ahead she spotted another Dufont lackey. He was leaning against an opening on the left side of the corridor. By the look of things, he was trying very hard not to fall asleep. Because of the way the torches were placed, there was a length of shadow stretching from where he a standing away from the archway and down deeper into the passage. The hall was wide enough that if she hugged the large pipes on her side of the tunnel, she could stay in the shadows. Sable shook her head. She hoped that this Alain character would be more a challenge than the idiots he had guarding his hideout. She decided to have a bit of fun with this one.
A few moments later, she stepped out of the shadows in front of the sleepy man one step away. His eyes went wide as she just seemed to appear out of thin air. The White Deathbell, closed the step and plunged her steel dagger into his chest just above his sternum, puncturing both his artery and windpipe in a single thrust. The bandit fell away his mouth open in a silent scream of surprise and pain. His eyes remained wide open as the life fled from them. Sable took one step forward and looked through the archway. Beyond it was a small side room that was being used as sleeping quarters for a few of them. There were no others to be found there, so she melted back into the shadows and continued down the sloped hallway towards her prey.
A short while later, Sable rounded a corner on her right and was welcomed into a short passageway cloaked in darkness. There were no lit torch scones to either side of her. The passage was only a few steps long and opened into a large room. In the center of the room, was a decent size firepit, lit with a fire. On one side sat two bandits, a man and a woman. On the other stood a Breton man wearing fine clothes. The assassin did not like the scene. She could easily approach either side undetected, but her cover would be blown as soon as she took out either side. What did work in her favor was that the fire was the only source of light in the room save for a single torch on a ledge behind Dufont, leaving the edges cased in dark shadows.
She figured that going to the seated pair would be her best strategy. That way, when the show down came, it would be one against one. Besides, she just realized, she wanted this piece of trash to know what his con in Windhelm had earned him before he died.
"Are we going pull any raids soon, Dufont?" the man seated asked. "The job you pulled on the Shatter-Shields was nice and all, but some of the men are getting restless."
The man in the fine clothes, apparently Alain Dufont, answered. "You ask me a stupid question again and I'll kill you. I won't have you idiots questioning my leadership. Understood? We'll go on a raid when I say and not before."
Sable had been quietly stalking in the shadow on the right side of the room, opposite of her prey when she spotted a way to cause quite the scene. Up on the ledge at the far side of the room, she spotted a pair of ballistae aimed out over the lower expanse of the room. It would be sure to rattle Dufont if his two companions were suddenly killed by the giant dwarven crossbows. The singular torch on the wall didn't provide much light and she could probably scurry back out of sight before Alain turned his attention to her. But how was she going to get up there?
The assassin searched the edge of the room, her eyes having become quite used to seeing in dim or almost no light thanks to her time with the thieves guild. Her new Family had helped as well without even knowing it. With the exception of the crafting room and the dining hall, the Sanctuary was kept poorly lit as if everyone just felt more comfortable in the shadows. She soon spotted a staircase rising up to the ledge with the ballistae on the far side of the room from where she had entered. She finished crossing the room to reach the stairs, never once having to risk entering the light of the fire. There, she spotted a fourth bandit in the room. He was perched about half way up the stone steps looking down upon the proceedings around the fire, bow in hand.
Alain was starting to gain a small measure of respect in his predator's eyes. If she had cut down the two subordinates and then attacked Dufont, the archer would have wasted no time in emptying his quiver into her. She would have to create some sort of distraction that would get the bowman to leave his post, but still not alarm the others too much. If the distraction was up on the ledge, Dufont would likely send his sniper lackey to investigate rather than go himself.
Sable stooped to find a small stone and then heaved it to the far corner of the ledge above Dufont and the others. The minor clamor it made as it hit floor of the ledge and rolled up again the wall behind served perfectly. The two seated cutthroats rose to their feet immediately and drew their weapons.
Dufont looked to where the sound had come from and then to where he knew is archer to be. "Halver. Go look into that and report."
The assassin didn't even wait for the orders. She started up the steps towards Halver, as soon as he stood and put his back to her. She quietly took the steps 2 at a time to close the distance. He had reached the top of the stairs before she caught up with him. A couple of steps later, he was nearly into the torchlight. But he didn't quite make it.
Sable came up behind him and thrust her knife into his back. She held it horizontally so it would slip between his ribs. The blade sliced into his lung and stole the air from him. He could only make a squeak of a sound as she shoved him forward towards the torch.
From below, it looked like the man had tripped and went sprawling forward crashing into the sconce on mounted on the wall. It was ripped free from the wall as the dying man collided with it before slumping to the floor.
"Halver, you clumsy idiot!" Dufont screamed. "Get that torch back up and go figure out that noise was, now!"
With the added darkness awarded to her from the obstruction of the man's body, Sable quickly made her way to the giant crossbows and took aim. A moment later there was a loud click followed by an arrow the size of a tree limb spearing its way through the woman. Another moment later, another click followed and the man hit the floor speared through.
Dufont pulled up an iron warhammer resting nearby, but otherwise did not move, knowing the ballistae had been spent and his unseen attacker was out of spear sized ammunition.
A moment later, Sable stepped into the firelight opposite the startled Breton in all her dark glory clad in the black and dark red armor of the Dark Brotherhood. Her full red lips parted into a sinister smile.
"Muiri sends her regards."
Dufont returned her smile. "Muiri!? So, what, you're the cow's pathetic champion? Oh now that is rich. I hope you're here to make me some toast with those butter knives of yours."
"I don't how pathetic of an assassin I am," Sable returned, "As far as I can tell, you're the only one I haven't killed yet."
The smile disappeared from the bandit leader's face and was quickly replaced with a sneer. He brought the warhammer up into both hands. "Well then, champion," He spat, "let's get this over with."
The two circled each other for a moment. Sable knew her disadvantage was his reach. A swing from the warhammer could crush her skull well before she was in striking distance. However, the large two-handed hammer was also to her advantage. Something that heavy would be slow to swing. She was in a matchup of strength versus speed. Speed was guaranteed to win, provided it didn't get hit.
Dufont wasted little time. He charged forward with a roar holding his hammer high for a massive sweep, but as he closed the distance, he changed his grip and thrust the hammer out forward like it was a spear. The head of the weapon whistled forward, aimed at collapsing her chest and ending the fight quickly. Sable jumped back a step and brought both daggers down crossed in an X, catching the shaft of the hammer just below the head and deflected down towards the ground. With Dufont now extended and having missed, this was her chance to get inside his reach and strike.
The assassin raced forward not even trying to hold the block. She sidestepped the weapon and started towards the bandit leader ready to bury her daggers into his guts. But Dufont, recognizing that his gamble had been countered, ducked and rolled away.
They faced each other once more, Dufont having recovered his hammer. It was the cutthroat that initiated combat again. He came forward raising the warhammer up to bring it in a downward swing. Sable brought her dagger around in an arc. She had to get the timing right so that when the weapons made contact her counterstrike would be on the down-stroke so that the force of the blow would be mostly deflected away from her. To just block the strike and take the force of the blow with her daggers would be to absorb most of it herself. She learned that lesson hard way with Arnbjorn. She had come away from their very first sparring session with her arms numb for the rest of the day.
By her estimation, her timing was perfect. The brunt of the attack would end up sliding off to the side and, then with Alain overbalanced, she could jam a blade into his ribs. Unfortunately, Dufont changed his grip on the warhammer part way through the swing. He dropped his other hand to the bottom of the shaft. With both hands at the focal point of the swing, there would be much more power when the blow landed. It also meant there was a split-second change in the speed. Sable now knew it would crash in behind her arc.
The assassin held no pretense that she would be able to counter this change so she attempted to leap out of the way. The hammer came down a second later and ripped the dagger out of her trailing hand and just clipped her right foot. She rolled twice after landing from her desperate leap just to try to put some distance between her and her surprisingly skilled opponent.
As she stood, a numbing cold began to creep its way up her calf. The freezing intensified and became quite painful. It was enough to make her limp as she tried to regain her stance and circle with Dufont once more. The warhammer was enchanted with a frost effect. This was quickly irritating the white-haired assassin.
"What's the matter, champion?" Dufont taunted. "Is the touch of Aegisbane too much for you?"
Sable, concentrated on freeing herself from the cold. She was used to it after all. Being a Nord and having spent her whole life in Skyrim it sometimes seemed that she had a tolerance to it and she could resist the cold more so than others. Already she was beginning to feel the warmth return to her lower extremity.
She smiled and looked to her prey as she shook her right leg a bit. "It doesn't bother me much." She smirked at him. She took a step toward him without any sign of the disability.
Dufont growled but did not charge this time. He stalked in slowly, but still kept her at a distance so as not to let the assassin inside his reach. Sable knew she would have to very careful. She now only had one dagger. Anything but a glancing hit from the warhammer would likely end the fight in the Breton's favor. She had to find some way to draw him in so she could plant her blade in him.
The cutthroat was frustrated with the stand-off. Each of them now had a better measure of their opponent. It would have to end sometime, however. They couldn't just keep circling each other for hours. Someone would have to eventually make a move and he was getting impatient, but this beautiful Nord had already proved quite quick and agile. And then it happened. She was so focused on him, that she hadn't noticed a spot where the stone floor was uneven. She scuffed her foot against it and stumbled. Dufont roared in.
Sable knew he would fall for the opening she gave him. She brought herself out of the stumble and took a step to her right. Dufont realized the feint and his eyes went wide. He tried to stop himself but it was too late. He had committed and there was no going back. She took one step toward her target and sank her dagger into his left side. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment. She looked directly into his eyes wanting him to know that what was left of his life belonged to her. His response was a bit surprising.
"Is that it? Is that all you got?" He gruffly asked before slamming his forehead into her nose.
There was a sharp crack as the she roiled backwards, stunned in a flash of hot pain that caused her to lose her vision for a brief second. Her arms flailed outward to keep balance, leaving her last dagger in Dufont's side.
"Now, champion, I'm going to kill you slowly like the pathetic would-be assassin that you are."
Sable watched Dufont pull her blade from his stomach with a snarl. He began to walk toward her as blood quickly soaked through his shirt. She had mortally wounded him, she knew. He would bleed out and die. The trick would be outlasting him; staying alive until that happened. However, with the room still spinning like it was, that would be easier said than done.
The situation became even more desperate as she watched him pulled a small vial of red liquid from his shirt and bring it to lips. A moment later, the bleeding stopped and the wound at his side began to close. The Breton was annoying enough, but a healing potion put him over the top. No way was he leaving this place alive, she vowed to herself. Though weaponless and still dizzy with her own blood running down her face, she had no idea how she was going to fulfill that vow.