Mist on the Marshes

He'd left Morthal early that morning, and it was not yet midday. Or was it? It was hard for Aleron to tell exactly what time it was, considering the great marshes which now sprawled all about him were blanketed in a thick fog underneath a dreary, cloudy sky.

The marshes themselves were just as in hospitable as they looked. Their gnarled, low-growing,leafless trees, the knee-high sawgrass, and the randomly placed, moss-covered rocks offered little shelter from the bone chilling cold that surrounded him as he trudged forward. The ground was moist and spongy; not muddy or soft enough to sink down into, but still waterlogged enough to add and extra, unwanted spring to his heels as he moved along. Aleron had been through the great marshes north of Morthal on more than a few occasions in the past, but he had never liked to linger for very long. The thing that troubled him the most was how easily one, one who had skills such as he, could still become quite lost, quite quickly in such a place.

Every once in awhile he would pass a small outcropping of rocks he decided he could make due with as shelter if the need arose, or at least use as waypoints on the way back. It was going to be a tricky journey from the start, no doubt about that, as he knew that he would have to stick to his dank, foggy route the entire way. Under normal circumstances he would have made his initial journey to Ustengrav along his current route, and then kept heading north until he made the coast once his task was complete. From there he would simply cut west and cross over to Solitude, however, given the Imperial presence in the city and his current status, he knew he would have to face the foreboding marshes both up and back.

There were a few times, as his feet became tired, that he had wished he had in fact brought his horse along with him. However, it was better that he had not overall. This journey was to be light and swift, and the sounds of a rider could carry for miles over the brackish flats and scrubby thickets. Not to mention it was all too easy for horses, or any other non-aquatic animal for that matter, to become trapped in the mud and end up having to either be left or put down. No, Aleron's mount was strong and brave, a true warhorse as he had demonstrated perfectly at Whiterun, but this sort of journey was one the Ranger would be better off facing alone.

When finally Aleron found another outcropping of rocks, he decided to take a few moments to rest. He took off his pack and leaned his quiver up against the rocks beside him. After making sure that his was fully obscured to anyone or anything that might approach from the rear he finally allowed himself to relax, but only slightly. He dared not close his eyes, at least not for too long, lest he be pounced upon by some unseen man or beast hiding in the fog. The marshes had always made him uneasy, but there was something especially off in his mind on this particular journey; something that had been growing every since he had left Morthal earlier that morning, and had seemed to stay with him all along his route. It was a feeling, a presence perhaps, of something not yet on his heels, but of something out there in the mist nonetheless. It inched closer and closer with each moment, with each hour he'd been walking, but he dared not turn to face it yet, as he ran the risk of losing his trail. No, if there was something out there looking for him, then he would wait patiently by the rocks and try to stay as calm as possible as it came to him.

Aleron had long since grown out of the stage where he scared his own self when out in the wilds by allowing his mind to run free. He had seen and learned too much in his time to jump at shadows, and now he could discern what was real from make believe, and this particular feeling, this...whatever it may be, was all too real.

But it had stopped.

Whatever had been following him all day had suddenly stopped cold. Aleron's senses of sight and hearing were no so good as to be able to pierce the thick fog to see this, but he knew it simply in his mind.

"And now we wait," he thought to himself, sounding more like a dare to whatever it was now standing idle countless paces away through the light grey curtain.

Aleron's left had rested on the hilt of his sword which was now laying more or less across his lap, albeit still strapped to his belt. He let his hand loosely brush the tightly wrapped leather, not clinching it down in a grip and preparing for battle; not yet. For now he attempted to make sense of what exactly his eventual enemy could be. It was not human. He could tell that without even seeing or hearing it.

After a few moments of complete silence, and still wondering what exactly it might be out there, all his questions were answered by the simple act of the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. A slight gust of wind a quickly come and gone across the fog, but on that breeze he caught a scent.

The scent of a vampire, no less.

Aleron felt the Beast begin to come alive inside him, but he refrained from setting it free. This vampire was apparently quite cunning, given that it had been following him from Morthal and he had just now picked up on it. Yes, this particular creature more than likely knew of Aleron's...gift, and was also more than likely prepared with some sort of silver weaponry up its sleeve.

Instead of charging head on into the fog, Aleron stood and returned his gear to its spot on his back; gods forbid he lose it in the mist. He calmly pulled the hood of his cloak down over his shoulders, and then carefully, deliberately drew his sword from its sheath and let it hang near his side. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he looked up and saw a thin silhouette forming through the mist in front of him, and he let his fingers grip tighter around his sword as he readied himself for whatever was to come.

Finally the shadowy figure came close enough that Aleron could make out its facial features. No doubt this vile being was a vampire. And it was an old vampire to boot. Breton, perhaps, or at least it was at one point, given its general height and build, but those days were dozens if not hundreds of years gone by this point. There was an evil glimmer in its dark eyes, obscured only by a few strands of oily black hair that had been parted to both sides and fell near the nape of its neck. The vampire's clothes were that of a professional, a professional assassin. Its black tunic was padded and reinforced with dark leather in all the right places, and its breeches were equally dark, with leather-padded knees and boots that appeared to be custom-built for that specific line of work, with their shin plates and pre-attached spurs.

"I must admit, Ranger, I did find this little walking holiday to be a bit boring. Given your reputation I had expected more of a chase; a hunt, if you will," the vampire said with its silver tongue that made Aleron's skin crawl. His nostrils were burning with its odor of decay which was otherwise unknown to normal humans.

Aleron gripped his sword tighter. "I am sorry for that. Is there any particular reason why you're following me, or did you just happen to sniff me out at random?"

"No, no, no. But please, if the chase itself was not all that enjoyable, might we not...see what we can do to make things more interesting? Oddly enough we know each other, or well, I know of you, even though we've not met personally before. Please," the vampire said with an odd tone of cordiality in its voice as it sheathed the short sword at its side and walked right passed Aleron and over to the small rock outcropping.

Aleron was completely confused, but he too sheathed his sword and followed the vampire over to the rocks. As he did so he pulled his cloak back to that the handle of his hunting knife was fully exposed behind his back. He himself was immune to the dark charm of vampires, but that was no reason at all to let his guard down, as curious and confused as he may be. Vampires were notorious for their strength and speed, so he took every precaution he could as he allowed himself to somewhat stupidly follow it.

"What is your name, if I may ask, and what exactly are you doing," Aleron inquired as the vampire disappeared behind the small outcropping. He began to hear the sound of sticks and twigs breaking. Finally the vampire reemerged from behind the rocks and laid out a decent arm full of small kindling wood. "Apparently you're having afternoon tea with this thing," Aleron thought to himself at the sight of the firewood.

The vampire removed its pack and even unhooked the sword from its belt, leaning it up against the rocks in nearly the same place as where Aleron's gear had been. Aleron raised an eyebrow as the vampire knelt down, pulled out its flint and steel, stared off into the mist for a moment, and then looked back down.

"My name, Ranger, is Valtieri. And before you ask, I have been dead for 500 years and so on. Breton by birth, like you, but was accidentally thrown down another path some several hundred years ago," the vampire said, striking off a few sparks.

"I see," Aleron replied, still standing and keeping his distance, however inviting the idea of a fire was in such a wretched place. "You say you know who I am? How?"

Valtieri chuckled as the fire caught and he began feeding it progressively larger sticks. "Come, come," he motioned to Aleron. "You mongrels can still feel the warmth of a fire from what I understand? This isn't for me, I assure you."

Aleron was reluctant at first, but he finally gave in. His gear stayed on his back, however, and he stayed on his feet for the time being. "Well I thank you, Mr. Valtieri. But you did not answer my questions. How is it that you know me? Were you perhaps a Ranger yourself at some point?"

Valtieri laughed as he sat down by the fire and retrieved a small bottle from his knapsack containing a thick-looking, sloshing red liquid. "By the gods, no. I was Brotherhood for the majority of my life after my...accident. Before that I was nothing but an academic. But there was a...bout of misfortune, you could say, that befell my sanctuary, and ever since then I have privatized my trade."

"I still don't see how you..." Aleron began, but was cut off after Valtieri took a swig from his bottle.
"You see I can no longer consume the flesh of animals and get any real enjoyment or sustenance from it. Therefore the hunt is all but useless to me, that is of course until I began my current career and found that hunting humans and your like was the true rush and sport I had missed for so long."

"So does that mean I'm some sort of great prize to you? Something for you to mount over your fireplace, perhaps," Aleron said with an all-too-obvious hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I said I was an academic, yes? Well I still am to a certain degree, but roughly 60 years ago, as I was reading and researching into the history of my native High Rock, I came across an old prophecy. Something to do with a royal bloodline that was all but unknown and may not even truly exist. But, as fate would have it, I was not the only one to have heard of such things. Do you know of what I speak, Ranger?"

"The Line of Emeric. But why make it your goal to wipe out such a thing?"

Valtieri put up a hand. "Oh, no, no. At first I found it dreadfully fascinating that there could potentially be a competitor for the Ruby Throne, and even went so far as to envision such a thing as a business opportunity. But as I said, I was not the only one who had come upon your little family secret, of course."

"Who else knew of such things? And have you not noticed that none of my kin have ever made a move for the Imperial Throne?" Aleron wasn't entirely sure he understood Valtieri's interest in all of this, but he was hopeful that the vampire may potentially answer some questions he'd had in the back of his mind for years.

He let it continue.

"I'll admit that I did not even know of your existence until I was approached by one who sought your head. When the Great War broke out my mind was abuzz with all of the potential targets and hunts about to unfold before my eyes, and for a time I put my discovery of your little family secret aside," Valtieri went on.

"I see. But once again you fail to answer my questions," Aleron reminded the vampire, its tiny fire now crackling to life and giving off a warm invitation.

"You see, whether or not your kinsmen sought to claim the throne, there were those who assumed you would, for there were others that sought it themselves. Your glorious leader, Ulfric Stormcloak, in his infinite wisdom, had also found this hidden prophecy and eventually deduced to whom it belonged. He shared his knowledge with his fellow commanders in the Legion...and that, Ranger, is where I came in."

Aleron stepped back and put a hand on his chin as he remembered Ulfric's final remarks to him some 40 years ago. "So it is you then, that I have to thank for the mysterious arrow to my side?"

Valtieri leaned back against the rocks and chuckled. "Aye, of that charge I am guilty. You see the wind just so happened to kick up at the wrong time and pull my arrow slightly to the left. Still, as one of your profession would surely admit, by virtue of hitting you at all, it was a rather marvelous shot."

"A rather careless shot, for a professional," Aleron replied, digging slightly. Valtieri caught the comment but chuckled once more in spite. "I would figure a former Brotherhood assassin more of a blade-in-the-night type."

"Of course such an uncivilized mutt would seek to write off the common misfortunes of another as a lack of skill. Most distasteful, Ranger. Most distasteful indeed," Valtieri retorted.

Aleron and the vampire eyed one another for a few long, silent moments after the final comment, staring at each other almost as if it was a contest to see which one would be the first to break. Oddly enough the vampire broke its stare first, and that gave Aleron...and the Beast, a slight jolt of accomplishment.

"That's right. I may be only one, but I'm the alpha of this pack. Slink back into the fog, filth," said Aleron's eyes as Valtieri gave one more quick glance before turning to gather his things. Aleron felt his upper lip snarl, and both he and Valtieri perked up their ears as a low, yet audible growl from deep within the Ranger broke the silence.

"How charming," said Valtieri, acknowledging the rather threatening sound that Aleron had just made, yet seeming to pay it no mind at the same time. The vampire finished strapping on its gear overtop its worn traveling cloak before looking back at Aleron.

"I appreciate your fire, but I believe it is time for us to part ways. Do not follow me," Aleron interjected just as Valtieri was opening his mouth to speak.

The vampire smiled, and then attempted to speak again. "Oh but I will follow you, Ranger, for you see, that is the nature of our little game. For too long have you seen yourself as one who is different from the animals of the forest he hunts, or the evil-doers he pursues. I may leave you for the time being, but considering this my giving you a fair chance, a head start, if you will. I know not for certain what your mission is, other than to slay dragons, but nevertheless I too have a mission I must see through."

Aleron felt an eyebrow raise and an eerie twinge run up his spine. He had been on the run from the Imperials for some time now, but he had never had a fully trained and expertly qualified assassin on his tail, or at least not one that had decided to tell the Ranger of his plans beforehand. He figured it was all part of Valtieri's game; just a ploy to keep him looking over his shoulder and questioning far off sound and shadow he passed by.

At first he wanted to reply with some sort of snide, somewhat boastful remark to Valtieri, but at that same moment the fire popped loudly, stealing Aleron's attention but for an instant. His gaze quickly jolted to the small, flaming pile of sticks at his feet, and when he looked up the vampire had completely vanished; faded away into the mist just as quickly as it had come. The eerie sensation Aleron had felt moments before came running back, and he stamped out the fire in frustration.

He was not supposed to be something else's prey. He knew this was probably all some sort of elaborate mind game the vampire was intending to play with him, and for the inaugural few moments it was working. After crushing the fire into ashes and embers he pulled his hood back over his head, but still remained in the same place, wondering where exactly Valtieri had gone, and wondering if he was now simply standing in the middle of a trap.

But he could not dwell on his fear for long, as he still had an unknown distance ahead of him before he reached Ustengrav. In the end he decided to keep walking in the direction his feet had originally been carrying him. He kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, kept his ears keen, and his eyes peeled for any sound or sign of movement in the mist.

Chapter 19

Friend?

A few hours had passed, an unknown number really, since Aleron had had his conversation with Valtieri in the marshes. He was still in the wet, dreary place, but had finally managed to find what it was he was looking for. He'd found Ustengrav, the ancient Nordic barrow, by accident really. Night had begun to fall, and even though he had a general idea of where he was going, he was still rather confused. That is of course until the ground disappeared from beneath his feet and he nearly fell at least ten more onto a bed of hard, lichen covered stone.

His Ancient Nordic was somewhat rusty, but he was able to discern that the barrow was in fact Ustengrav by squinting and feeling out a few of the remaining weathered runes overtop the entryway. As he felt round the stone in the ever waning for more runes or anything regarding Jurgen Windcaller, he jumped back and nearly drew his sword. The fog was so thing around the door that he hadn't noticed that he was nearly standing on the body of what appeared to be a bandit or some sort of vagabond.

Aleron did not retrieve his sword, however, and instead knelt down, closer to the body to give it a further inspection. The corpse was that of a young Nord male, blonde haired with green eyes. He smelled harshly of alcohol and skooma, and appeared to be roughly conscription age. Rooting around inside the boy's shirt, he found a talisman hanging from his lifeless neck which bore the insignia of one of the bandit gangs or tribes almost that inhibited that part of the province. He felt pity for the boy, as he might have seen a life of crime as a way out of the war or as a way to stay near home.

But to feel pity for a boy's poor decisions was not why Aleron stood outside the ancient barrow in such a foreboding place. He slowly drew his sword from its sheath before opening the door to the tomb, gripping it tightly, as he had no idea what may be inside. Whatever it was was probably the reason for the dead lad's untimely demise. He took in one last deep breath of outside air and exhaled slowly as he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the dark.

The interior of Ustengrav was much as any of the countless barrows Aleron had ventured into during his time. Barrows had never bothered him as much as Dwemer ruins for some reason, mainly because he knew more what to expect when he entered them. Ustengrav, however, had shown within the first few moments after his entry that that may not necessarily be the case this time.

On the stone floor at his feet lay another body as soon as he passed through the main doorway. He knelt to examine the bandit's corpse, as he had the one outside, at first suspecting that the marauding party had come into contact with a rather nasty troupe of draugr that almost certainly called the ancient halls home. But upon further inspection of the killing blow delivered to the bandit, he noticed it to be odd, and most definitely not the work of a bumbling, half-blind draugr.

When the bandit had fallen, he had dropped a lantern, who's single candle still burned beside his body. Aleron picked up the tin box and shone it over the skin of the bandit's neck. There was a single, clean, perfectly sliced gash directly across the poor soul's windpipe, although it was slanted slightly, indicating that the blow had in fact come from the front. Whatever weapon had been used to kill him had been extremely sharp, and wielded by one with an equally quick hand. Both bodies, both the one inside and out, were still rather warm, having been killed within the previous few hours. This gave the Ranger some pause.

Aleron's first thoughts were that Valtieri had gotten there before him and inadvertently run into a pack of bandits, thus requiring him to dispose of them before Aleron arrived. But then he changed his mind. Valtieri was a highly skilled assassin with years upon years of experience in killing stealthily, most likely from behind and unseen. Whomever had killed these poor souls was more than likely as quick and efficient in their work, but was not afraid to face a potential counterattack head on.

As Aleron knelt there trying to decide exactly who or what had killed the bandits, he heard a shuffling coming from the bottom of the long set of stairs near the door. He opened the tiny door on the lantern and blew out the candle in the blink of an eye. The shuffling came closer and closer, and he quietly, slowly sheathed his sword and instead reached for the hunting knife in the small of his back. If whatever was coming meant him harm, the fight would be close, and in the narrow hall of the entryway there was no room to swing his sword.

Incidentally nothing ever began to make its way up the stairs. Aleron could still hear the shuffling at the bottom, and the longer he waited, the more he began to wager that it was simply a roving draugr that the unknown bandit assailant had ended up passing by.

"Why kill the bandits and leave the draugr," he asked himself. "Who are you, I wonder?"

With those thoughts in his head he re-sheathed his hunting knife and quietly made his way to the bottom of the stairs. Sure enough there were two draugr roaming the large open room, protecting their long-dead dragon masters from any who might dare enter the barrow. Staying quiet was no problem for Aleron, and he took note of three large pillars that jutted out from the floor in a diagonal pattern across the room.

Sneaking over to the base of the first pillar, and holding as still as possible while one of the draugr passed, he then turned and nestled his fingers into the nooks and crannies between the ancient stones and began to pull himself upward. Footholds were few and far between, but he managed to climb to the top of the pillar regardless, and from there he had a decent vantage point over the floor below.

The two roving draugr were stumbling about, and had paid him no mind whatsoever. The pillars put him off the ground by only 12 or so feet, and yet they still did not notice his dark cloak draped now draped over the side and hanging like a deep, greenish-black banner. His first instinct was to retrieve his bow and end their miserable afterlives, but then he realized it would simply be a waste of valuable arrows. He knew not what lay ahead in the dark of the barrow, and for now he was in a more pressing need to find a way through to the next chamber.

Below there were two separate doorways branching off from the main room, no doubt leading to a series of winding halls and staircases filled with more draugr or potentially other undesirable creatures. After a few moments of aerial scouting, he noticed a small opening near the ceiling on the far end of the room. It was almost perfectly in line with the group of pillars, more than likely being the remains of some long-collapsed walkway.

Standing very slowly, he bent his knees and then sprung forward in a silent flash. The top of the second pillar was quite dusty, and even though he absorbed the full impact of his landing with his knees, he nearly slid off the other side of the pillar when his feet hit the gritty surface.

Aleron stopped cold and dropped to his knees. He looked downward in time to see the draugr stop in their tracks and begin sniffing the air. Draugr could hardly see, but their other senses had not yet fully diminished. He could hear the air getting sucked into their rotted lungs as their glowing blue eyes began to scan the perimeter of the room. They hadn't the common sense to look upwards, for which he was very thankful, but even still he was stuck there until their curiosity was satisfied.

While he waited atop his perch his own ears snapped to the small doorway above and ahead. With another passing moment his cloaked head darted to the doorway as well, as he had heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing back from further within the barrow. They were not draugr, and they were too light to be those of another bandit. No, they were swift. Very swift, which meant that whomever had entered the tomb before him had more than likely made his entry. No doubt they had heard him nearly fall, if he was able to hear their footsteps.

The draugr below were still grunting, sniffing, and doing their best to scour the floor for an intruder, but Aleron now felt he could not wait any longer to move. He had to find out who or what may be waiting for him further within. Readying him self as before he took one final great bound and made the next pillar, keeping his feet. Without missing a single stride he leapt once more and caught the bottom threshold of the tiny doorway with his strong fingertips. He pulled with all his might and quickly pulled himself up and through the doorway. The draugr were now abuzz at the sudden outburst of noise, but Aleron was on his way down the black corridor before the would ever realize where he had gone.

...

Aleron felt like he had been feeling his way down dark passageways for hours. At first he had thought that the corridor beyond the doorway would end quickly and open up into another large room. It did eventually wind down into what appeared to be some sort of embalming chamber in the pale grey light, but he couldn't be certain. His only true idea of where to go was to follow the footsteps which he had been hearing every so often, but as of the passed nearly half hour, all had been silent. In the end Aleron decided to keep following his gut feeling, and the wind which he could occasionally feel brush across his face.

He paused for a moment, taking a quick drink from his water skin, and catching his breath. Closing his eyes in the dark he strained his ears for even the slightest hint of more footsteps, but heard nothing. He opened his eyes and held his hand up in front of his face. He could not see it.

Just as he stood to press onward, a sound did make his ears, however. But it was not footsteps. It sounded like the wind, albeit much louder in comparison to the slight whispers he had been hearing. This gave him some hope. Keeping one hand on the clammy stone wall he walked on, until he came to a bend in the corridor illuminated by natural light.

Aleron rounded the bend, nearly at a run, but slammed to a halt, nearly skidding over the edge of a cliff. Had he not been able to stop himself he would have fallen several hundred feet to a rushing underground river below. There were several ledges on the way down the cylindrical chasm, some of them home to pines that looked to be nearly a hundred feet tall themselves. As he stood there marveling at such a thing, movement finally caught his eye nearly halfway down the gargantuan hole. A shadowy figure darted out from the mouth of a passageway and then quickly back into another. Aleron immediately took off in pursuit, however, with as far down as it was, it would still take him sometime to reach such a level.

Through several of the passages he found himself sliding down on his sides instead of taking the time to carefully walk down them. They were all very steep, and it was simply faster to slide. He knew he would regret that decision when it was all said and done, but for now he had to try as hard as he could to catch whomever it was in front of him. There wasn't so much of an anger towards the unknown figure, or a desire to kill them, but it was more of a curiosity for him to find out who was killing off bandits, bypassing draugr with such ease, and then running away from him.

When he stopped sliding at the bottom of another cavernous slope, he stood and his mind shut the rest of his body down.

"Liethlri? Surely not. How could she? I didn't tell her anything. She didn't know I was...did she?" His mind was racing with that sudden thought. The one he was chasing did look rather feminine, even from where he stood at the very top of the chasm.

From then on out it was a race to the bottom. He slid down nearly every passage, feeling his skin become torn and bloodied underneath his breeches and shirt. He remembered the cut on the bandit's throat at the barrow entrance, and reasoned that it very well could have been an Elvish blade that made such a fine incision. The closer he came to the bottom the more he feared that Liethlri had in fact accompanied him on his journey.

"But why? What use could you possibly have for this trinket? What real use do I even have for this trinket?" With those final thoughts, Aleron's graceful luck ran out. He was sliding down another ramp of dirt and rock when a small pile at the bottom gave way before him and he went sliding out into nothing. His eyes went wide and he actually allowed himself to cry out as his body completely left the safety of the ledge.

The wind rushed by his face, and he knew he would soon be crashing into the cruel, churning waters at the bottom of the great pit. But that was, in fact, not to be the case. All of a sudden he crashed into a fury of snapping limbs and flying pine needles. As the branches snapped he was sure every bone in his body did as well, but he did his best to grab out for any sort of hold he could find. Pine sap and slick bark gave way in his palms, but they did slow him somewhat. He rolled down through the massive tree, finally coming near to a stop on the last rung of thick branches, however, the limb he came to rest on gave way at the final second, which left him slamming face-first into the hard dirt below.

...

He was sure that he had died. There was no way to know how long he lay there before opening his eyes, but when he did he immediately wished he had not. His entire body screamed with pain as he tried to sit up. When he was finally able to roll onto his side and lean up against the truck of the tree, he winced as he checked himself over to see what the true extent of his injuries was. Neither of his arms or legs were broken, but a few of his ribs surely were.

"Damn. Exactly what we needed. Damn!" Aleron winced once more as he slowly hauled his crying body to its feet. He leaned against the tree for several long moments, trying to catch his breath, but feeling like there was a knife in his lungs.

When the Ranger finally decided it was time to move once again he did it with a larger amount of pause, that is until he realized that he had fallen directly in front of the passageway that the unknown figure had been running towards. He slowly put one foot in front of the other, reaching out for rocks, smaller trees, or simply anything else he could use to support himself while he made he was through the passage.

It appeared that this passageway was nothing more but another set of dark tunnels. Aleron tried his best to channel his breathing and drown out the pain, and for awhile it worked. He forced himself to think of the task at hand, something which he had done countless times over the years, and within a few moments he was feeling slightly less pain than before.

There were no more footsteps, but quite honestly Aleron no longer cared. He knew that whomever he was chasing was somewhere to be found within the nether reaches of this tomb, however much farther it reached into the bowels of the earth. A throbbing pain was beginning to manifest itself in the upper portion of his side. It was in nearly the exact spot where he had been hit with the arrow years before, only this time he could feel the tiny shard of bone protruding inside of him. There was no broad-head, only the splinter of a broken rib. Every few steps the pain jolted through him, all the way to his fingertips, but he did not stop. He had to keep moving.

"I don't suppose one can truly be Dragonborn without some sort of trial or tribulation," he thought, even going so far as to muscle out a slight laugh before wincing with pain once again.

Pain aside, or at least as far aside as it could be put, Aleron walked on. He was finally able to stand upright and move without the support of the cavern walls, but the pain in his chest and ribs still pounded throughout the rest of his body every so often. He was about to pause and take another rest, but just then a fresh breeze caught on his face, and he heard the sound of running water. It sounded nearly like that of a waterfall, or perhaps more underground rapids. A sudden curiosity took hold, and the kept moving, wanting more so to make sure there were no more chasms to descend.

When he rounded the final bend he was nearly awestruck. Not so much because he had never seen such a sight before, but a sudden gust of pride seemed to wrap its hand around his heart as he gazed across the stone causeway before him and up to the large tomb at the center of the massive burial chamber. There was surely the tomb of the fabled Jurgen Windcaller, undoubtedly with Aleron's prize inside his long-sealed sarcophagus.

He began his slow walk across the causeway, his boots spattering the puddles left by the mist falling from the water which flowed from the mouths of giant sculpted dragons on either side of the chamber. The pain in his body began to subside as he reached the sarcophagus and put a hand on the cold, ancient ebony.

But then he stopped.

What he had not seen was a small alter behind the sarcophagus, presumably the resting place of Jurgen's horn. In place of the relic sat a single, folded slip of parchment. An immediate presence overcame Aleron, and his senses came alive. The shock and pain of his fall had nearly caused him to forget about the other person who could possibly still be within the tomb, waiting for him in the shadows perhaps.

Aleron retrieved his bow from his back, and then quickly drew and arrow, nocking it into place. He refrained from drawing the arrow back and aimlessly scanning the entire burial chamber. Instead he simply kept the weapon ready at his side and approached the parchment.

With his free left hand Aleron gently picked up the parchment and unfolded it between his index finger and thumb. He looked across the simple words with a raised eyebrow.

"Dragonborn-

I need to speak to you. Urgently.
Rent the Attic Room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you.

-A friend"

Aleron crumpled the piece of paper and threw it aside. All at once his senses came in tune once more, and for a split second the entire cavern became so silent he could hear the parchment drop onto the wet stone. Time slowed so that he could even see the tiny water droplets splash upward and over the few black words.

He spun and dropped to a knee, completely disregarding the pain in his side. Drawing back the arrow with his left hand he fired at the last shadows of the unknown figure who was turning to run up a passageway behind him. The arrow whistled through the air, and heard it hit flesh before bouncing and breaking off of the stone wall behind.

The footsteps continued up the passageway, but he knew he had at least grazed his mark. It was no doubt a woman, as he had heard her yelp with his arrow hit. He threw back the hood of his cloak and scoffed to himself, taking one last breath of peace before beginning his pursuit of the shadowy figure.