Chapter 2
The sun's golden rays were just beginning to appear over the craggy Colovian Highlands when the trio exited the shadow of the cloud. Their clothes and saddlebags were damp with dew and the horses lathered with sweat. All three looked weary and they were forced to squint as the sun rose. Beads of blood appeared on their dry and cracked lips whenever they spoke or smiled. Talk had been sparse over the journey but Brellin was beginning to feel more at ease. He had found little about the two of them save their names; The Nord's was Saetring and the Dunmer's Nalmila. Now that they were closer, Brellin could study them in more detail. Nalmila was stunningly beautiful with deep, red eyes and perfect teeth. The leather armour fit her perfectly and Brellin could see numerous wicked looking weapons strapped all over her. Saetring was a typical Nord; blonde, burly and blue-eyed with large, muscled arms. His steel armour gleamed in the sun and his weapon's hilt was extravagantly encrusted with jewels.
"So, where to now?" Brellin asked as they reined in their mounts.
"Skyrim," Saetring said firmly, "We'd best get away from this horror and let the Synod and the Collage of Whispers deal with it."
"No," Nalmila disagreed, "We have warn the other cities and provinces and then assist in finding a way to stop it."
"Well perhaps the College of Winterhold will help you."
"Stop it, we're not going to Skyrim."
Brellin silently sat astride his horse, watching the sun make its path over the mountains. Though he agreed with Nalmila, he decided not to intervene; to wait till they reached a decision. The two continued arguing for at least five minutes before Brellin finally became fed up.
"Chorrol," he interjected, "I have a contact who could perhaps help us in stopping the Darkness."
Saetring scowled but gave his assent and they continued on their way.
They travelled throughout the day, stopping for short periods of time between long intervals of riding. The landscape gradually changed as the rolling valleys gave way to thick forestry. The tall trunks blotted out the sunlight, leaving the travellers in shadow. The air became chilly and they all began to search their packs for warmer clothing. Through gaps in the trees, Brellin could see the beginnings of the Colovian Highlands. We're getting closer, he thought. As seemed to be their travelling ritual, talk was sparse and usually on inconsequential subjects. Saetring rode in a gloomy silence, his thoughts no doubt on the dark Nordic ale and craggy, snow-covered peaks of his homeland. Through brief discussions, Brellin discovered that Nalmila was well trained in the use of illusion magic.
The attack came when they were half a league from Chorrol. Several bandits stepped out from behind a tree, bows clutched in the hands and arrows directed at the travellers. Glancing behind him, Brellin noticed that a smaller group was blocking their escape, armed with swords and axes. His hand tightened on his sword hilt and he began to gather his magic. The Argonian who appeared to be the leader spoke up in a harsh voice saying, "leave your horses and your money and be on your way."
Without a word, Nalmila drew a dagger and expertly threw it at the leader. The dagger tore open the Argonian's throat, spraying the ground with blood. The archers released their arrows but Brellin blocked them with an extending shield spell of his own creation as Saetring nudged his horse into a charge, lopping off two archers' heads as he passed. Nalmila twisted out of her saddle and sprinted at the men behind them with alarming speed. She flicked two daggers out of their sheaths and tore one of them up the middle. Spinning around, she slammed another dagger into a man's chest and left it protruding as she gored the other one through the eye. Brellin's bow dealt with another archer and Saetring slashed the final one from shoulder to hip.
The speed at which his companions had reacted astounded Brellin. They had moved almost in unison, and had obviously fought together previously. Blood was beginning to pool around the corpses as they remounted and continued on their way wordlessly.
The guards at Chorrol's gate ignored them as they passed – on foot- over the threshold into the city. The horses were stabled just outside the city in the North Country Stables. People of all races strolled the streets chatting, laughing and stepping in and out of shops and houses. The atmosphere was friendly and the ever present Colovian Highlands could be seen over the far walls. A market had been set up in around the Great Oak in the centre of the city. The bright and colourful stalls stood out against the yellow pavings and numerous children ran around them.
"Where's your contact?" Nalmila murmured to Brellin.
"He's Fighters Guild so we might as well head to the guildhall."
She nodded before saying, "Don't forget, we need to inform the countess."
The Fighters Guild guildhall was a large building adjoined to a tower by an isle way. The red banners of the guild snapped in the wind as they hung from either side of a row of windows. A sign hung just above the door; a shield with two swords with the words 'Fighters Guild' inscribed on it. The interior was plain with red carpeting and wooden walls. Several people sat around a table while scrapes and clangs told the companions that people were sparring out the back.
"There he is," Brellin said, striding towards an Imperial man. He had black, cropped hair and white skin. He was armoured in Orcish which spoke high skill and wealth. A Dwarven claymore leant on the table next to him.
"Brellin!" he shouted, jumping to his feet, "What are you doing in Chorrol?" They embraced each other in a rough bear hug.
"I bring bad tidings, Carius," said Brellin grimly, taking a seat, "Not two nights ago, an evil cloud of darkness appeared over the Imperial City. It attacked with missiles of the same substance; we're not sure how many survived if any."
Silence greeted his words and all four fighters' guild members stared openly at him in shock. Carius was the first to recover. "Then it is as we feared."
"What do you mean?" Nalmila asked quickly, "You know this thing?"
Carius nodded replying, "The Arcane University sent a message to the Mages Guild next door about a new rise in the necromantic order; apparently a new leader has sprung up from Morrowind and brought with him a terrible power; the Power of Shadow. With it, he can summon such clouds as you saw and he can raise hundreds of undead with a single spell. I'm afraid we're in for a hell-of-a year."