I woke before Baurus, although whether or not that was because of my own internal clock or the stiffness of my neck I wasn't sure. I had adamantly refused to take the only bed, and so had spent the night on the floor with a blanket and the pillow. Either way, the Blade rose swiftly as I began to move about, embarrassment colouring his face when he realized I was up first, or, as I thought a moment later, at the knowledge he was setting eyes on the woman who'd shared his room for a night. Normally I did not think of such things, seeing as I had spent far too many non-chaperoned, innocent (and not-so-innocent) nights with men, and for a moment I felt embarrassment, which perturbed me to no end.
"I'll meet you downstairs," I said to him, a hand on the door. "I have the books." I didn't wait for a reply.
Breakfast at Luther Broad's was a simple affair. We ate with practised efficiency, loaded up what gear we had, and set out for the Arcane University. Fortunately we were able to commandeer an apprentice upon our arrival, and we set him on his way to find us Tar-Meena while we waited in the Arch-Mage's lobby. She appeared shortly, and I risked a furtive glance around the lobby as I opened the flap to the book bag and showed her the two new volumes. Her eyes lit up like torch with too much pitch.
"Camoran's Commentaries Volumes Three and Four!" she squealed, scaled hands bunching into fists and coming to hover beside her cheeks in her excitement. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn she'd gone back in time by about thirty years or so – the similarities to a little girl seeing her first puppy were remarkable. "Where did you get them? How did you get them? And so quickly? Please, may I take a look? Oh, I can't believe this is happening! Marvellous!"
"Tar-Meena," Baurus cautioned, his dark eyes flicking to the other mages who were beginning to glance over, and she caught herself, straightening from where she had begun to bend over the book bag, and uncurling her fists and smoothing one straight hand over the golden horns at the side of her head.
"Ahem. Ah, yes. You'd better come with me. This might take a while."
As I had done the day before, Baurus and I followed the Argonian mage to the library, where she showed us into a sheltered nook readied with table, parchment, and chairs.
"Please, sit." She invited us with a gesture at the chairs. As I sat I noticed the first two volumes of Camoran's Commentaries stacked on the table beside her. Tar-Meena noticed my gaze and gestured at them, her tail flicking back and forth.
"I scrounged up copies of the first two volumes from my colleagues," she explained, "and I spent a little time rereading them while you were away. Mankar Camoran is a fascinating writer." She paused to slowly shake her head once. "Undoubtedly insane, but fascinating." She slid into her seat, pulling the first volume to her and opening its weathered pages. "It is common for esoteric cults such as the Mythic Dawn to put hidden messages within their sacred writings," she said, eyes bright. "In effect, simply by finding the shrine, prospective members have already passed the first test on the road to "enlightenment". You piqued my curiosity about this puzzle yesterday, and so I've been studying the texts, trying to find an answer. If my intuition is correct, the first words of each paragraph are the key; however, without the last two books, I couldn't be certain." I thought I saw a hint of the enthusiastic, little girl return in her demeanour as she extended a hand across the table towards me and the book bag, and I hid a smile as I dug down and retrieved them.
"They're all yours," I said as I handed the two volumes over, and her eyes flashed with undiluted excitement. Biting her lower lip in a most un-Argonian display of anticipation, she laid all four volumes out across the table and opened them one by one, turning them all to their first pages. I tried to make sense of the words from my upside down position and failed miserably.
"Hmm…" she murmured, childish excitement giving way to scholarly study. "Yes, yes, I think I have it. Here, write this down." I scrambled for a piece of parchment as she began reciting letters, splattering an unsightly blotch of ink on the page in my haste, and began transcribing what the mage called out as she read along. When she finished the final letter of the final volume, I put down the quill with nervous anticipation to see what my writings had spelled: Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun.
"You are familiar with Green Emperor Way? The gardens around the Imperial Palace?" Tar-Meena asked excitedly, looking up. I nodded. So did Baurus.
"Something must be revealed there at noon," he said, studying the words as if they would somehow reveal more knowledge.
I frowned. It wasn't possible for the Mythic Dawn to have a shrine to Dagon in the city, could it? No. If they did, I would have known about it. I would have had to know about it.
Tar-Meena sighed.
"I've half a mind to go down myself and see what's there," she said longingly, her red eyes on the page. "But I've a sneaking suspicion whatever is down there will lead to no good, and I'm so swamped in work anyway that I can't afford the time."
I offered her a sympathetic look.
"We'll let you know what we find. It's the least we can do for all your help," I said. She smiled – her Argonian equivalent of a smile, at least – gratefully.
"That's more than I could ask," she said, and with that she began packing up her things. Her eyes lingered on the third and fourth volumes; I knew what she wanted.
"I can't offer the volumes now," I said slowly. "But maybe once this is done I can see them donated to the Arcane University. Would that be worthwhile, Tar-Meena?"
"Donated? To the University? Oh. Oh, yes, yes!" The soft regret that had shadowed her gaze vanished instantly in a renewed bought of excitement. Her hands began to bunch again. "As I said," she continued, "Mankar Camoran's writings are insane, but fascinating. They lend an unmatchable view into the world of daedric cults. The things we could learn from them if given enough time, marvellous! Yes, yes! I would be forever grateful, er…" She seemed to catch herself, drawing herself up and once more running a hand over the spikes on her head. "The university would most certainly profit greatly from the knowledge the Commentaries contain. It would be a momentous gift."
"Then it shall be done," I said, smiling as I watched her suppress a little dance of glee. "The Blades will have no use for them once this is all finished."
Baurus glanced at me sharply.
"Are you sure?" he questioned, and I nodded firmly with an assurance I wasn't entirely sure I could back.
"Positive," I replied, and then we packed up our things and took our leave of the library.
Tar-Meena walked us to the edge of the university grounds, waving to us as we passed through gates to the city proper. I smiled as I turned away, my spirits lifted.
"I like her," I said with a laugh. "The mages could do with more people of her make."
"I second that," Baurus agreed.
As it was still morning and we had time to spare, Baurus and I decided to go our separate ways and finish any business we had yet to conclude. It was agreed that we would meet at the eleventh hour in front of the Imperial Palace. Baurus' recount of Amusei's appearance at Luther Broad's had been on my mind for some time now, and so it was with great eagerness and mild trepidation that I made my way back to Dareloth's basement in the Waterfront District. I was curious to learn how – and what – he had recovered so quickly.
I made my way quickly to the guildhall, climbing the stairs and pushing open the door to the house proper without any detours or distractions. Stepping inside, a flurry of movement caught my ears, and I glanced up to see who was making the noise.
It was the Fox.
"Corvu—" I began, elated, but stopped halfway through the name. No, this was not Corvus, what had possessed me to think so? Corvus was the count of Anvil.
Something itched at the back of my skull, something trying to tell me something else was not quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
"My apologies," I said, inclining my head respectfully. "I didn't expect you to be here. Shall I leave?"
"No," he said, looking a little confused. "I was waiting for you."
I was surprised, and suddenly apprehensive. Had I forgotten about a summons I'd received? Would he be angry with me?
As I sat, I noticed him smiling, his sharp, Argonian teeth on fair display. Again the itch settled in at the back of my skull. Had he always been an Argonian? Yes, he must have, it didn't make sense if he wasn't, and yet…
He sat, smiling at me for a moment longer, and I began to grow terribly uncomfortable. Did he wish me to speak?
"Sara," he said, surprising me with the use of my shorter, more intimate, nickname. "It's me, Amusei."
My eyes widened for a moment. Yes! That made sense! I had given him the task of...
I knew I had just had a revelation, but now, for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was.
"Amusei isn't here," I said in reply to the Fox's question. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."
The smile on his face faltered.
"No, I'm Amusei. Don't you recognize me, Sara?"
I frowned at him. Of course I would recognize Amusei if I saw him. I was about to say so when the Fox reached up to his face, fingers grasping at the Cowl. I averted my eyes, not quite believing what was happening. The Grey Fox was revealing his identity to me? That couldn't be true!
My curiosity getting the better of me, I glanced back at the Fox, but he wasn't there. Instead, Amusei sat in the seat where he had just been. I looked around confusedly, trying to figure out just where the Fox had disappeared to so quickly.
"Amusei," I asked hesitantly. "Where did the Fox go?"
His eyebrows shot up.
"The Fox? What are you talking about?"
I frowned at him, utterly confused.
"I was just talking to the Fox," I said. "He was there, sitting in your chair, and I was sure the room was empty…" I trailed off, the pieces clicking into place. Suspicion rose deep within me. I narrowed my eyes, turning them on Amusei.
"Do you have the Cowl, Amusei?"
He nodded.
"And have you put it on?"
He nodded again. I let out my breath in a long stream.
"Amusei, whatever you do, don't put it back on––"
"—I knew you were going to be angry. It was a stupid joke––"
"—it was a fine joke, just let me finish!"
I fixed him with a stare, and he meekly agreed.
"I'm not angry about you wearing the Cowl," I told him in a more reasonable voice. "In fact, that's what I've meant for you to do. If you put the Cowl on, however, I'm going to think you're the Grey Fox and forget you're Amusei, and that isn't going to help matters."
Amusei stared at me blankly.
"You what?"
I sighed and leaned forward, steepling my fingers as I rested my elbows on the table.
"Have you ever wondered why this place is called Dareloth's?"
The Argonian looked at me blankly, not quite understanding the segue, and shrugged.
"Not really. I always assumed it was just a name."
"It is a name," I replied. "A name that belonged to the first Grey Fox, Emer Dareloth. He stole the Cowl from Nocturnal herself, and was thereafter stricken by her curse: 'Whosoever wears the cowl shall be lost in the shadows. His true nature shall be unknown to all who meet him. His identity shall be struck from all records and histories. Memory will hide in the shadows, refusing to record the name of the owner to any who meet him. He shall be known by the cowl and only by the cowl.'"
Amusei gulped, looking down at the grey headpiece he pulled up from his lap.
"Don't worry though," I reassured him. "The curse was broken by the Grey Fox who came before me. That's how you're still able to know my name right now." I leaned back, surveying my friend. "Whereas before the Cowl completely removed your identity from history, even from the minds of your friends and loved ones, its effects now only apply when wearing it. You put on that Cowl, and you gain all the Fox's bounties, infamy, and status, plus a few enchantments." I gave him a wry smile. "Take it off, and you go back to being Amusei. Try to avoid taking it off and putting it on in front of others, though. The magic will ensure they won't make the connection between you and the Grey Fox, but it can be pretty rough on their heads. They'll come up will all sorts of strange explanations as to why you suddenly appeared where the Fox was."
"Ah. That explains what you said earlier."
I nodded, and my eyes fell to the cowl in his hands.
"May I see it one last time?" I asked, and he handed it over to me.
"As far as I'm concerned, it's still yours," he said. "I only put it on as a joke."
I ran my fingers over the soft cloth, nostalgia rising and memories returning. I'd had so many adventures with this thing. I wondered if Amusei would also go on a rampant wave of burglary, revelling in the sensation of hidden identity, excited by the lack of consequence, as I had when I'd first gained it. After I'd gained it and nursed my broken heart back to health, that is.
I handed the cowl back to him, meeting his eyes with soft ones of my own.
"The Cowl is yours now, Amusei, and with it, the Guild. Armand is invaluable; his loyalty is never to be questioned, and he is competent and intelligent. Fathis, too, is a great asset, but you must watch out for any schemes he may be hatching behind your back. He's never done anything to seriously harm the Guild, but he has attempted to skim the top off the profits." I straightened and leaned back in my chair, my eyes still on the Cowl. "Things in Leyawiin haven't really recovered from when S'krivva passed away either, but there's a promising new recruit – an Altmer of all things by the name of Sinyramtil – who may be able to help out with the situation there. If worst comes to worst, send Armand to do a temporary clean up and have one of the higher ups handle the Imperial City. Methredhel, of course, is useful for any thievery or missions you want to get done, but isn't as adept at handling administration as the doyens."
My Argonian friend was silent for a moment, running his fingertips over the soft cloth of the Cowl with his eyes downcast, and then he said in a subdued, quiet voice, "You really are leaving, aren't you?"
My heart went out to my friend, and a pang of sorrow echoed in the space it left behind.
"Yes," I replied just as quietly, just as subdued. "I am."
He rose and shuffled over to one of the nearby chests, from which he lifted a long, thin bundle. Returning to the table, he handed it to me.
"Here," he said. "This is all I could recover from the prison. Fathis is negotiating the release of your other belongings."
I opened the bundle. Inside were my enchanted rings, amulet, and arrows, my bow, and a trio of keys.
"I would have brought your hood and the rest of your arrows as well, but the Guard was right on my tail. I only had time to grab what I thought would be most useful. The armour…" He shook his head. "I don't think anyone could have escaped with that – it weighs a tonne! How do you sneak around in it?"
A smiled a little.
"With lots of practice, and even then with a bit of luck. Usually I change into something more fitting if I'm going to do any serious sneaking."
The Argonian nodded, a smile breaking on his features.
"You're the only thief I know who'd even consider doing such a thing sometimes. I guess that's what sets you apart from the rest of us. I'm going to miss it."
"Hey," I said, forcing him to meet my gaze. "I'm still here; I'm still going to be around." I paused. "I'm still your friend."
"Yes," he replied. "I suppose you'll always be that." He turned and reached for a wine bottle, scooping up two goblets as he did so. Setting them on the table, he filled them to a brim and picked up the one nearest to him, raising it to the ceiling. "To Sarasamacial, the only thief ever to sneak in a full set of armour!"
"To Amusei," I echoed, lifting my own cup. "The only Argonian who was also a fox."
We drank together.
Baurus eyed me warily as I strode up to him from the Temple District gate.
"Something wrong?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"No, I think something is right," he said, surprising me. "I'm no marksman, but even I can tell that new bow you're carrying is a work of art."
I smiled proudly, unslinging the weapon and holding it in front of me to better show it off.
"I had it custom made in Valenwood," I explained as he gently took it and traced the golden lines that wove around the red bone of the staves like miniature vines. "I call her Celesti. It means "swiftest" in Bosmeri."
Baurus raised an eyebrow as he looked up at me.
"It has a name?"
"She has a name," I corrected, a cheeky grin on my face.
"Well I can see why you wanted her back. She must have cost you an arm and a leg."
"It definitely cost someone an arm and a leg," I replied, glancing all-too-innocently away. He shot me a look that even my averted eyes couldn't avoid. I raised a hand to ward him off.
"Alright, alright," I said, trying to placate him. "Yes, some of the money I used to buy her wasn't mine, but I did do my fair share of the work. The bandit population took a definite dive while I was saving up the funds, and you have no idea the kinds of things I had to do to prove I was worthy of one of their great bowyer's works." He glanced up curiously at this comment, but didn't say anything. "Besides, she's really the only thing I'm keeping from my time in the Thieves Guild. She's been with me through a lot."
Baurus shook his head, handing back Celesti. I took her gently and fondly returned her to her place on my back.
"Sometimes it's hard to imagine you liberating Kvatch," the Blade admitted teasingly. I crossed my arms over my front.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just wait until I get my own arrows back, too. Then I'll show you then just how deadly I can be."
He smiled, accepting the challenge, and glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes.
"Almost midday," he said, and I followed his shift to into more serious matters.
"'Green Emperor Way where tower touches midday sun'," I quoted under my breath, studying our surroundings. "Where do you think that could be?"
"I'm not sure, but we better start looking."
We split up to cover more ground. My anxiety rose as the sun did, my only consoling thought being that if we failed today, we could always try tomorrow.
I was about to give up and return to the shade of the palace when a shout from Baurus caught my attention. I jogged over, apprehensive and curious, to where he stood, arms crossed, frowning in front of an ornate tomb.
"Prince Camarril…" I read as I walked up, and suddenly I realized what the Blade was scowling at.
A map of Cyrodiil, overshadowed by a rising sun, was glowing red in the light of the bright, midday sun.
"It's showing us where the shrine is," Baurus said, his hand pointing to the elaborate star carved onto the map. "It looks like it's where the Valus meets the Jerall Mountains."
I nodded, pulling out my worn map.
"Might be near Lake Arrius," I replied. "I'll check there."
Baurus glanced at me with raised eyebrows.
"You don't plan to go there alone, do you?"
I tucked the map away, taking my time before I answered.
"We're the only ones who know the location of the Mythic Dawn's shrine. If we die, the Blades are returned to the beginning with nothing – no knowledge, no preparation. One of us has to take this information back to them – we can't trust anyone else to do it – and I think it should be the one who belongs with them. Besides, they know your face better than mine." I crossed my arms in front of me, staring unyielding up the young Redguard. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he chose instead let his breath out in a long sigh before answering.
"You're right," he agreed reluctantly. "You are the best choice to go to the shrine. Martin needs people he can trust at his side, and so does Jauffre. As a Blade, my place is with them. I will go to Cloud Ruler Temple."
I gave a nod of approval.
"Good. It's settled, then," I said. "I'll join you as soon as I know more."
The Blade gave me a nod of his own, and then turned to leave. He paused in mid-step, and faced me again.
"I won't forget what you've done for me and for the Empire," he said. "You are a valuable ally and... friend. May Talos guide you."
"And you," I said with heartfelt sincerity. I would miss having the Blade at my side. He had made for good company and a strong ally. I watched him as he turned and traversed length of the Green Emperor Way, and then, focus regained, scrutinized the map.
The Mythic Dawn shrine to Mehrunes Dagon was indeed located on Lake Arrius, and it was with the setting sun warm on my back that I dismounted from my faithful, black steed to greet the red robed representative as he stepped forward to meet me.
"Dawn is breaking," he said, darkly and simply. I kept my face impassive, echoing back the words I knew he wanted me to speak.
"Greet the new day."
A sinister smile broke upon his rather handsome, kind looking features, and I felt disgust growing in the pit of my stomach.
"Welcome, sister," he said, leading me to the door. "The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands. You may pass into the Shrine." I glanced back at Shadowmere, and then followed him through the opening. I was disappointed to see not an altar, not a sacrificial place of worship, but a plain, drear cave like any other. The shrine must be deeper in. Not good for me. "Harrow will take you to the Master for your initiation into the service of Lord Dagon." We paused at a wooden door, and he gestured to it. "Do not tarry. The time of Preparation is almost over. The time of Cleansing is near."
…the time of the Purification is at hand! Everyone inside the Sanctuary must die!
I bit back the bile that rose in the back of my throat, forcing my face to remain unchanged. Too close did the doorkeeper's words reflect those I had heard many long years ago. It was unexpected. Grief lanced through my heart. The faces of the innocent dead swam shrieking before my eyes.
"Harrow waits within," the doorkeeper prompted, gesturing for me to enter and effectively pulling me out of my waking nightmare. "You should not linger here." I glanced at him, shot him a terse smile.
"No, of course not. I will go."
I moved beyond the door and took only a few steps before a Dunmer, tall and holding himself high in bearing, intercepted me.
"I am Harrow, Warden of the Shrine of Dagon," he said by way of introduction. "By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of the Master, Mankar Camoran, you have earned a place among the Chosen."
I allowed a small smile to touch my lips – until I had the Amulet I had to convince them I was one of their own, and if I had been deranged enough to wish to join the Mythic Dawn, this would be a moment I would have been proud of.
"You have arrived at an opportune time," Harrow continued. "You may have the honour of being initiated into the Order by the Master himself." I mentally logged this tidbit away. If I could take out the Mythic Dawn's leader… "As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn," he explained with smug satisfaction, "everything you need will be provided for you from the Master's bounty."
May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort when the need arises.
Again memory reared its brutish head, and I struggled to brush it away inconspicuously.
"Give me your possessions, and put on this initiate's robe."
Please accept this gift from your new family…
Harrow presented me with a set of blood coloured robes, and I reached forward with trembling hands to take it. Oblivion take it all, what was wrong with me? I needed to stop remembering. I needed to stop remembering now.
I looked around casually for a place to change; the growing smile on Harrow's face made me pause and my insides grow cold.
"There is no need to be ashamed," he told me. "We are all brothers and sisters here."
I stared at him for a moment, and then bit back the shame and anger and began to undress before him, setting my belongings aside in a neat pile as I did so. I would kill him the first chance I had. The people here were murderous and sick, but this… I pulled the red hood up over my head, fighting to keep the fury from my eyes. I could not afford to tip any of them off, make any of them suspicious. I was already in enough danger as it was.
"Very good," Harrow cooed, and I suppressed a shudder and the urge to wash my skin. "Follow me. I will take you to the Shrine."
When he turned away I quickly scooped up my rings and amulet – the only items I could risk taking without detection – and pocketed them. Inconspicuously catching up, I followed Harrow.
The door at the end of the passage opened up into a low altar, braziers set in the corners and banners emblazoned with the Mythic Dawn emblem hanging from the ceiling. The cave tunnel curved around, leading on, and I followed Harrow along it; however, I noted that a room lay beyond the altar, and that a group of agents stood leisurely at its door. That made a minimum of five agents I would have to fight through if all went wrong, and there were undoubtedly more waiting deeper in the shrine. I sent a silent prayer for my success out into the ether.
Harrow and I continued down the passage, him looking confidently forward, and I desperately cataloguing every door, chamber, and Mythic Dawn initiate that we passed, all the while trying to keep out the disturbing memories of my previous life. Our passage took us finally to an inconspicuous looking door, and, with an oily smile, the Dunmer led me into the Shrine.
The Shrine itself was situated in a great natural chamber that had been hollowed out at the bottom, so that we looked down upon the altar from where we stood. Ornately carved staircases reached up from the lower floor to the lip of the outer rim where we stood, and grand pillars were carved into walls. The altar itself was on a raised dais, forcing those who listened to the speaker's words – all seven of them in this case – to look up. Harrow led me down the nearest staircase, and, as I neared, the words of the Bosmeri speaker on the dais met my ears. I wondered briefly if I was looking upon the face of Mankar Camoran.
"The Dragon Throne is empty," he announced, his tongue crisp and his words elegantly formed. "And we hold the Amulet of Kings! Praise be to you Brothers and Sisters! Great shall be your reward in Paradise!"
A chorus of voices rose around me, Harrow's loudest in my ear.
"Praise be!"
The speaker lifted his arms, his eyes piercing every one of us.
"Hear now the words of Lord Dagon," he commanded, and those around me quieted as he spoke. "'When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever!'" A chill rushed through me. "'As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon.'"
"So sayeth Lord Dagon. Praise be!"
I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while the others shouted their worship.
"Your reward, Brothers and Sisters!" the speaker continued. "The Time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!"
The followers cheered at his words, and he turned from them, a portal, fiery and writhing like an Oblivion gate, grew out of the air before him. I searched around desperately with my eyes for any sign of the Amulet, but found none. As he stepped into the portal and disappeared, hopelessness sunk into my gut. Something told me it had vanished with him. I had to make sure and, if so, find some way to recover it.
"We have a new Sister who wishes to bind herself to the service of Lord Dagon!" Harrow's voice cut through my thoughts, wrenching back to the present. A woman, Bosmer by the look of it and bearing a strange resemblance to the speaker, gazed down at me from the altar.
"Come forth, initiate," she commanded, and I stepped forward with growing apprehension. In the short walk I had until I reached the steps of the dais, I tried to asses my situation.
There were seven followers here, many of them giving off an aura of magic, and countless acolytes spread throughout the caves. I couldn't risk a full out battle. The chance of them overwhelming me was high. As I mounted the steps and the woman stepped forward to meet me, my eyes darted about the dais, taking in the heavy tome resting on the altar and the bound, unmoving Argonian laid out on a slab before the statue of what I assumed was Dagon himself. I didn't see the Amulet anywhere, but if the book was what I suspected it was…
"You have come to dedicate yourself to Lord Dagon's service," the woman said as I approached, recapturing my attention. "This pact must be sealed with red-drink, the blood of Lord Dagon's enemies."
The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant.
I started at the memory that echoed her words.
"Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as pledge of your own life's blood, which shall be his in the end."
It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. Send Rufio to his death, and the Dark Brotherhood will embrace you as family.
I struggled to keep the look of bitterness off my face as I moved to the altar as slowly as I dared, trying to buy time to think and calm my nerves. I didn't like this. I didn't like all these memories coming to the surface, all these reminders. These people were sick, sick as them, sick and loving and adoring and welcoming…
My hand shook as I reached for the silver bladed dagger. I discreetly flicked my gaze over the nearby tome, my jaw clenching as I recognized the symbols on the cover: the Mysterium Xarxes. My guess had been correct. If I could find a way to take it, maybe it could lead us to the Amulet…
I picked up the dagger, my hand curling naturally around its handle. Seven people. Seven. A hostage. Followers to fight. My things. No bow. Magic. Magic? The book. Yes.
"Lord Dagon thirsts for red-drink," the woman on the dais warned me, her impatience showing. "Sate him!"
I gripped the dagger harder, steeling myself for what was to come. Magic gathered in my fingertips––
––I whirled around and shot my most powerful fireball at the woman, who deflected it clumsily in her surprise. It crashed into the statue of Dagon, and I lunged forward as it tottered, gripping the just waking prisoner and throwing him forcibly down the dais stairs, hurling myself out of the way as the statue came crashing down. The woman screamed as it collapsed upon her.
I had but a moment to collect my wits as I picked myself up out of the debris before I once again saved the prisoner's life, shoving him out of the way as a murderous thunderbolt came flashing out of the dark.
"This way!" I cried, snatching up my dagger and the Xarxes and readying another spell. I fired it off at the dim form of an advancing acolyte before turning, grabbing his arm, and fleeing for the nearest staircase. Our flight was halted, however, by resistance: two armour clad sentinels stood ready for us at the end of the dais; yet, as I raised my dagger to prepare to fend off a strike from one of their heavy maces, fire roared by, swallowing the two in our path. I glanced at my fellow escapee, my respect for him rising as I recognized the tell-tale sign of magic use glowing around his fingertips. I didn't have time to congratulate him, though, as another pair of agents charged us. I could hear more of them coming around the far side of the dais, too, trying to capture us in a pincer.
"Take my back!" I roared as I flipped the dagger neatly in my hand so I was grasping it by its blade. I slung it forward, burying it deep in the neck of one of the assailants. I snatched up a fallen short sword and prepared to engage the other. She was unarmed, and although she landed me with a powerful lightning spell, I was filled with a fury long forgotten and shook off the pain to make quick work of her. Whirling around, I sank my blade into the unprotected flesh of a man's arm, cutting him to the bone. I wrenched the blade free, quickly glancing around for any other attackers. The Argonian was finishing the last one off, so I advanced upon the man who was clutching his mangled limb and stumbling away. He saw me coming and tried to cast a spell, but I caught his free arm and broke his elbow with some effort, cutting off his incantation with his scream.
"Dagon have mercy!" he cried as he collapsed to his knees, unable to use either of his arms. I knelt beside him, tearing off a piece of his robe to bind the freely flowing wound on his right arm. He looked at me with pain-filled eyes, confused.
"What are you doing?" he whimpered between grit teeth. I cuffed him on the back of his head and gripped one of his trembling fingers. I saw the Argonian approaching.
"You're not going to want to watch this," I told him. "Wait by the end of the dais. Don't try to leave without me. There are more of them out there."
The Argonian complied, eyes wide.
I returned my attention to the Mythic Dawn agent.
"Think carefully about how you answer," I warned him, my tone dark and unrepentant as I began to gently bend back his finger. "Who was the Bosmer who disappeared into the portal?"
"I'll tell you nothing, unbeliever," he hissed. I bent the finger back farther than it would go and was rewarded by a loud crack. The man screamed and tried to squirm away, but blood loss – despite my administrations – and pain made him weak. My anger made me strong. I wasn't worried about the noise, either; if no one had heard the massacre, no one would hear this.
"Who was the Bosmer?" I asked again, my tone harsher. I would hurt him to get my answers. Better lives than his were at stake.
I gripped a new finger, obviously enough for him to notice it. I saw his eyes widen by a fraction, but his lips thinned into a white line and he said nothing. I broke it.
"Who?" I reiterated, and the man blurted out, "The Master!"
Snap.
"That doesn't tell me anything. Who is the Master?"
"Mankar Camoran – augh!"
He fainted, and gazed down at him for a moment, my fingers resting on his own ruined ones. Better lives. I pressed my hand against his temple and let my magic flow through him. He revived, looking around wildly, and began to sob when his eyes lit upon my face. I reached for his final finger.
"No," he begged. "No more, please! I'll tell you everything. Please…"
"There is honesty in pain," I told him, although something in me struggled against the words. "Answer my questions, and it will be lesser than if you do not."
He broke out into full sobs, and nodded despairingly.
"Where is the Amulet of Kings?" I questioned.
"With the Master," he replied. "He took it to Paradise."
"Is that where the portal went?"
"…Yes."
"And where is paradise?"
"It's Paradise. That's where it is."
I broke his final finger.
"Don't be coy with me," I said as he howled. My hand began to shake uncontrollably. My stomach tangled itself in knots. "Tell me where he really went. Where is this paradise?"
"No!" he wailed. "It's the truth! It's Paradise! Paradise! He made it! Please! Please don't hurt me anymore…!" He dissolved into sobs. I clenched my trembling hand as I watched him suffering; tears and snot ran down his face. It was pathetic. It was pitiful. It was my doing.
I reached to where I had dropped my short sword, my eyes still impassively on the man's face. He cradled his ruined hand to his chest, rocking slightly to try and forget the pain. I could hurt him more, break his spirit until he babbled whatever I wished him to say, but my task had been soured by his despair. Bile was already at the back of my throat. I could not – no, did not – want to keep hurting him, despite his actions. Besides, the calculating side of my mind reminded, the longer the Argonian and I stayed, the higher our chances of being caught.
"Go in peace," I said emotionlessly to the man, pressing my blade against the soft flesh of his throat. He made to struggle away, but with a quick, practised motion, I severed the stream of lifeblood flowing not far beneath the skin. I waited, unmoving – his choking breaths in my ears, his disbelieving stare in my eyes, his blood on my hands – until he died.
With great effort I rose and turned to meet the eyes of the Argonian, who had been staring, transfixed by horror, at the body. Nausea rushed through me. I tried to force it down, to meet the prisoner's eyes unashamedly, but my denial only fuelled it. I turned to the dais wall, leaning an arm against it for support and holding the other to my roiling stomach.
I had not tortured a man in many years. The anger that had fed me during the battle had left swiftly once I'd turned to my darker task. A part of me realized I had been taking revenge on my opponents for the crimes I had committed against my own twisted family, blaming them for reminding me so strongly of my past, but to see the man grovel and weep…
Another wave of nausea rose up within me, and I only just managed to keep my stomach's contents down. I had grown weak, grown soft. My resolve was not what it had once been. I could no longer do everything and anything within my power to get what I needed, what I desired. Sithis was no longer my keeper.
This thought, which had once so often tormented me, now gave me comfort. The sickness enveloping me retreated a little, allowing me drop my one hand. Perhaps I could still perform horrible deeds, but I was no longer the monster who could commit atrocities without a feeling of remorse. Perhaps Modryn had been right. Perhaps I really was changing. Perhaps maybe I could be forgiven.
I straightened, turning my eyes once more on the Argonian prisoner who waited, half-cowering, at the end of the dais.
"Come," I said. "There are more of these throughout the tunnels. We need to be gone before they find this mess." I picked up the short sword, wiped it on my robes, and stepped forward. He hesitantly and fearfully followed.
News of the slaughter had not spread outside the room – whether or not the other Mythic Dawn followers thought the screams of the butchered cries of ecstasy or simply did not hear them, I did not know. Either way, we climbed the steps quickly and passed silently into the hall, our steps nimble and our glances furtive. I was distantly pleased to discover the Argonian knew how to sneak; Talos knew it would have been difficult to smuggle out a full grown Orc – so often the Orsimer seemed to have a strong dislike of stealth.
I slit the throat of a guard as we came upon him after taking a wrong turn, but we were heartened to discover that we had found a storeroom in our ill luck. I had the prisoner dress in one of the blood red robes of the order, and changed my own for one a little less bloodstained and singed. Then, satisfied that nothing more could be done to make us look like followers, I used my weakening fire spell to set the provisions inside aflame.
"Hurry," I whispered as we stepped out of the room. "We need to be away when they discover this."
We slipped away, two peas in a pod, and padded down the tunnel, turning at the intersection we'd misjudged and finding our way back onto a route I deemed more recognizable. We were almost at the first room with the altar when a cry of 'fire' rang through the tunnels. We froze.
"Fire!" A terrified voice called out again, at the same time a new cry of "murder!" rang up from the direction of the Shrine. The followers lounging at the entrance to the far room sprang into action, half of them jumping up and dashing towards us and the direction of the storeroom, the others disappearing deeper into the room. I flattened myself against the wall.
"Protect the Shrine!" an initiate called as he sped by us. His tripped on the Argonian's not quite yet flattened form and stumbled, his flailing arm catching the prisoner and knocking him over. Another pair of followers continued on without looking, but the one who had stumbled glanced back. The Argonian's hood had become dislodged and now dangled off one horn at the back of his head. The agent's eyes widened.
"The prisoner is loose!" he bellowed, and I grabbed the Argonian and hauled him upright, pushing him towards the entrance.
"Run!" I shouted at him, and he sprinted for the door. I tarried a moment longer to launch a fireball into the agent's face, and then I turned on the ball of my foot as I raced after him. Lightning crashed into the earth above me, showing down dirt and loose pebbles. Screams and enraged cries hounded me like the heat in Oblivion. Ahead of me I could see the fleet form of the Argonian. He threw his shoulder into the final door ahead of us, smashing it open, and I saw him tumble into the startled arms of the doorkeeper. I went to summon another fireball, but was thrown off by a whistling sphere of ice that nicked my elbow. I stumbled, catching my balance at the last moment and dodging forwards, kicking the doorkeeper in the ribs as he wrestled with the Argonian and hauling my fellow escapee up as I did so. Magic blasted the ground to my right, and I danced sideways as I put two fingers to my mouth and blew. A familiar whinny greeted my call. Shadowmere came galloping around from behind a settlement of rock, and I more or less threw the Argonian onto her back before launching myself up behind him.
"Fly!" I screamed, and then her hooves were pounding the ground, her lungs heaving, and we were borne away from the infuriated cries of the Mythic Dawn.