"The most important tool in the thieves' repertoire is distraction, either planned or improvised."
-Purloined Shadows by Waughin Jarth, The Elder Scrolls
"You were seen coming in," Nepos said, stroking the blank leather cover of his book. "The girl at the door is a Forsworn agent masquerading as a maid. You aren't the first one to have gotten this far. You won't be the last."
There was that remorse in his voice again, but after he'd just told me, whatever tone he took didn't really matter.
They were going to kill me, and I had simply waltzed in to their lair.
If the maid, Uaile I think her name was, was a Forsworn agent, then it was only logical that the other two men were too. As it stood now, it was four of them against me. The odds weren't in my favor, and they weren't getting any better. I felt the beginnings of panic begin to bloom in my chest, but I quickly snuffed it out. Panic was just as much an enemy as Nepos in this moment.
"I..." I swallowed. "I suppose you also ordered the death of Betrid Silver-Blood then."
I was stalling, but at least he didn't seem to be in any rush either. In fact, I think he might have been stalling too.
"Yes," he croaked. "A much different target than what my king usually commands of me, but I am not one to question Madanach." He appraised me for a long moment. "You should relax, girl," he said gently. "If you stay as tense as you are, Uaile might mistake one of your movements as hostile and end your life a bit sooner than necessary. I am sure you are in no hurry to die, and I am in no hurry to kill you."
"Then there must be some sort of deal we can strike?" I asked. I loosened my grip a bit on my bow slightly to appease him, but I was otherwise unable to relax. "A compromise, surely?"
"Unfortunately, no. There are times when sacrifices must be made. It's for the good of the Reach. The Nords have rotted this city, and we must cleanse it by taking it back..." He paused, his eyes studying me carefully from head to toe, lingering particularly on my cuirass. "I've seen your armour before," he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Though not in a decade at least, I'd say." I remained silent as he tsked. "The Thieves Guild had it's run here, though it was seized from them by the Nords as well. It may be strange, but in a way, I respected them for their tenacity if nothing else. It's such a shame you were so careless."
My fingers clenched around my bow again, more in anger than anxiety this time. Delvin had called me careless a couple times, as had Vex, and Brynjolf had once too. They always had good cause to, but it would make me seethe nonetheless. Niruin had plenty of opportunity to call me careless, the most recent of which I acquired my most recent nickname, but he never did, and I was always grateful.
Despite the fumbles and where I presently sat, Nepos the Nose had no right to call me careless.
"Careful, girl," he said, his eyes flicking to the bow in my lap. A feminine hand planted itself on my shoulder from behind in warning, and I could see the glint of metal reflecting the fireplace on the walls. "I would release that if I were you."
"It is best you do what the old man says–" Uaile began.
And then I acted.
I didn't have any time to think. Thinking was slow. Gripping the lower limb of my bow like a two handed weapon, I twirled and swung the weapon at the maid's face with all my strength. A satisfying crack resounded as the bow made contact with the side of her head, and she fell to the ground, her dagger clattering a few feet away from her crumpled form.
"Stop her!" Nepos boomed, knocking his chair over in his haste to create distance between us. The other two male servants were charging at me from across the room, daggers in hand. Quicker than I'd ever moved before, I readjusted my grip on my bow, nocked an arrow, and a second later, the Breton with the face paint was down with an arrow through his abdomen and a second through the neck as he stumbled.
I could hear nothing but the blood rushing in my ears and my heart desperately trying to break free from my chest. I felt my body move and watched as everything happened in slow motion.
The second Breton was on me, his dagger flashing wildly in untrained but deadly strokes through the air, and at this close of a range, I could do nothing but dodge and defend against his swipes, the sound of metal hitting metal resounding through the house as I blocked slash after slash with my elven bow, praying it would hold out on me.
Suddenly I felt a searing pain in my right arm and an explosion of heat threw me across the room. A cry ripped out of my throat as my side struck the corner of one of the dining tables, the force of the collision scattering the silverware and food across the floor and effectively knocking the wind out of me.
Breathless, I collapsed to one knee, clutching my bruising rib. Nepos stood across the room next to his remaining Forsworn agent, both his hands swathed in dangerous red flames that licked greedily at the air. But those flames didn't compare in the slightest to the fire burning in his eyes.
"You have made a grave mistake," he calmly raged, a vein pulsing on his bald head. "We underestimated you, but don't think I'll make the same mistake again."
The flames around his hands swelled abruptly, and thinking fast, I dove head first under the table I'd crashed into and flipped it on it's side just in time for another ball of flames to crash into it. The flames exploded on contact with my makeshift barrier, jolting and scorching the wooden surface but otherwise leaving it in tact.
"Surrender now," I heard Nepos the Nose call. "And I may still grant you a swift death yet."
I stayed hidden behind the table, mind racing as I panted heavily.
Calm, Kashyra, calm, I thought, wincing as I noticed my charred sleeve. I saw now that Nepos's first blow had eaten away a good chunk of the leather and left a severe burn on the exposed skin underneath. The only way you're getting through this is with a clear mind. So calm down, damn you. Calm.
I froze as I heard the sound of their footsteps advancing slowly, forcing my breathing to slow and my mind to form coherent thoughts.
"You're making this much harder for yourself, elf," said Nepos, but I didn't pay him any mind. I'd been in enough battles to know he was just trying to distract me.
Could I get him to waste his magicka and then attack? Not likely I would survive that. Was it possible to charge past them and barrel out the front door? Could I get an arrow into Nepos before his fire balls reached me? Maybe. I was younger and quicker than him and would have the advantage of a first strike, but as soon as I poked my head out from my safe haven, I would be bombarded.
Thought after thought bled into one another until I was left more confused and rattled than before. But I couldn't just stay behind this table. They wouldn't wait for me to make a move forever, and sooner or later they would flank me. If that happened, I would truly be a sitting duck.
I pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it in preparation, listening for footsteps again, but the room was silent, the calm before the storm.
Stendarr, have mercy, I prayed as I readied my bow. Arkay, Akatosh, Dibella, Julianos, Kyraneth, Zenithar, Mara – Talos too. If the Daedra will help me, I'll even send them a prayer.
I didn't dream of honourable deaths as the Companions might. I didn't dream of death at all, in fact. I wanted to live. By the Eight – Nine – it didn't even matter to me anymore at this moment. I just didn't want to die.
The ghost of an etheric, wicked chuckle whispered in my ear causing a shiver to crawl up my spine like scurrying rats, and I immediately whipped around to locate the noise, only finding the lifeless eyes of the Forsworn I had killed staring at me from a few meters away, his blood seeping slowly across the floor. The laugh echoed again from above me, but this time faded into an eerie creeeaaak, creak, creak,and I glanced up.
The chandelier in the middle of the room swayed dangerously, and the lights from the braziers around the room began to flicker as if a gale was sweeping through the room.
But the air was still.
"What dark sorcery is this?"
And then the room went black.
This is my chance, I realized, though the thought seemed to be planted in my head from an outside source. The fire from Nepos's hands now acted as a beacon while I became enshrouded in the comfortable cover of darkness.
I jumped up and the seconds slowed, extending into what felt like minutes.
The old man's jaw snapped shut mid sentence as his head swiveled from the swaying chandelier to focus on me, the nostrils of his enormous nose flaring violently. His spotted hands, gnarled like the limbs of the Eldergleam Tree in Whiterun, flexed beneath their cloaks of fire, and the flames responded appropriately, burgeoning like deadly orange blossoms. In my peripheral vision I could see the Forsworn man charging in my general direction, dagger raised high above his head, and his mouth open in an enraged battle cry.
But my bowstring was already pulled back taut to my ear, and I looked down the head of my arrow, only listening to the creaak, creaak, creaak of the chandelier above. My lips parted and I felt myself exhale. I didn't hear the sound of my bowstring as I released it, but I was suddenly watching my arrow slicing through the air, rotating in a deadly spiral towards its target.
As soon as the arrow made contact with Nepos' chest, the chandelier stopped swinging and light returned to the braziers, replacing the extinguished mage light. He writhed around on his back for a moment, his old bones unable to lift him.
"You'll stay down if you know what's good for you, old man," I panted, training another arrow on him. The Forsworn man, who had frozen when the light returned, twitched, and I mechanically unloaded three arrows into his body before he, too, fell, my frayed nerves unable to handle the paranoia of having him alive.
The only one left standing now, I lowered my bow cautiously, slowly circling around the fallen table that had provided me shelter.
"Foolish girl," Nepos coughed quietly from where he lay as I approached, his chest bloody. "This... will not save you. Madanach is as relentless in his... mission as Cidhna Mine is... inexorable" – cough – "You will soon wish that you had died here by my hand rather than... rather than..."
Nepos the Nose released one last shuddering breath as the life drained from his eyes. I felt nothing as I gazed down at his dead body. I didn't feel hatred nor triumph nor sadness. Nothing. Just an empty, gaping hole where exhaustion had eaten away at any emotions I should have felt.
My whole body was trembling. Halfway down the hall to the front door my knees gave out and I fell to the ground, my stomach churning and in knots at the same time. The smell of blood was ripe in the air, sickening in its sweetness. My bow lay on the ground beside me.
I stared at the ground blankly for a moment, unable to find the strength to move, barely registering the shadow of a stumbling figure coming up behind me. A glint of metal snapped me out of my daze, but not fast enough.
Too slow, I turned, left hand instinctively raised in protection as a dagger fell towards me, and the next thing I knew, I was staring straight into the murderous eyes of Uaile, the bloody blade of her dagger emerging from the back of my gloved hand. Ruthlessly she pulled her blade out of my hand, my hand spasming violently as I cried out, blood splattering like paint from the edges of her weapon.
Uaile was unsteady and slow. Blood trickled down the side of her face and into her left eye from the blow from my bow, but for some reason I was slower. Her dagger arced towards me again, but every single one of my limbs was made of lead.
She straddled my waist, my back pressed into the floor and my quiver digging into my spine as we grappled desperately. My right hand gripped her left, blade wielding wrist tightly trying to keep her dagger away from me while my left hand smeared blood on her face, trying to push her off me.
"You..." she ground out. She tried to push the dagger forward, but I managed to hold her off. We were stuck in a deadlock and my hand screamed and my burnt arm felt like it was still on fire.
"Me?" I spat back. "You're – aggh – you're the ones who tried to k-kill me first."
She finally disentangled her wrist from my grasping fingers, and, using her backwards momentum and the dizzy look that came into her eyes, I somehow managed to flip us over. We growled and snapped at each other like feral wolves, trying to kick and scratch at each other to get control of the dagger. I wished that I had put mine in a more accessible pocket.
"Get off of me," Uaile howled, struggling to move as I finally pinned her arms.
"You know, I've always hated the people in this city," I said. "Today I actually met some relatively nice ones, but then you" – she began to struggle again – "you just had to ruin it all, didn't you."
She threw back her head and screamed in rage and frustration. I was surprised I was stronger than her to be honest, but then again, adrenaline can make you do some pretty amazing things.
"I'll kill you," she wailed. Sparks flew from her finger tips.
Shit, she's a mage too, I thought, thankful that I'd incapacitated her first. I flinched as sparks flashed again, and her wails increased in volume as no fire was lit. I may not have hit her hard enough to kill her, but at least I'd hit her hard enough to keep her discombobulated.
Time to end this, I thought, not wanting to be around when she finally managed to ignite a fire.
Bracing myself, I pulled my head back, and cracked my forehead into hers. I was left seeing stars as I reeled backwards, but Uaile, already suffering from a head wound, was unconscious almost immediately.
What in Oblivion just happened? I thought, leaning against the wall for support. I tore my left glove off with my teeth and pocketed it to get a good look at my punctured hand, but there was only a certain amount of damage one could judge after having your hand run through with a dagger. The only thing I could say for certain was that I wouldn't be using to for a while.
In hindsight, I should have cut a strip from Uaile's skirt or something to bandage it, but my mind was a bit fuzzy.
I groaned, a sharp pain erupting from my left side. My hand flew to the wounded area, clutching it tightly. I must have banged into that table harder than I'd thought.
My leather cuirass felt slick, and at first, I assumed it was from the the blood from my hand, but then my fingers ran over a ridge, just above my hip. A slice. A cut in my cuirass.
She stabbed me?
I grabbed my bow and stumbled to the door way, feeling every injury flare up. My jaw, the crown of my head, my arm, my hand, and my side. Especially my hand and my side.
I need to get to Eltrys, I thought. He can help me.
I hobbled out the door and to the Shrine of Talos slowly, my legs quaking with the effort and every injury throbbing. My right arm hung limp at my side and warm blood leaked through my fingers clamped against my side, dripping down my cuirass with every ungainly step. It was late enough by now that practically no one was on the streets, and I was lucky enough not to encounter any guards or I'd have had a lot of explaining to do. Not to mention that this was a direct result of me ignoring their warnings to take my elvish nose out of their business.
"Damn it," I growled softly to myself, trying to curse the pain away.
The Shrine wasn't much farther but I couldn't go any faster. I tried to control my breathing as I came upon the doors, having to pause for a moment. When the clouds of steam puffing out of my mouth normalized, I leaned my back against the door (both arms currently out of commission to do any heavy pushing), feeling my quiver and bow digging into my back as the door creaked open.
"Eltrys?" I croaked as the door shut behind me, my eyes having to adjust to the dim candle light as usual. Immediately something felt off, and I tensed despite the pain it caused all my sore muscles.
A laugh. "I told you she'd come," said a dreadfully familiar voice. Three figures stepped from around the concealed corners and into the light around the statue of Talos where I finally noticed a fourth figure lying limp at the ninth god's feet.
"No," I whispered. I was too overwhelmed. Suddenly I felt like the greatest fool. Who had I been to think I could make a difference? Who had I thought I had been helping. All I had been doing was feeding my ego.
"We warned you," said a second guard whose voice I recognized as the one who approached me after coming out of the Silver-Blood Inn. "You just had to go and cause trouble, didn't you."
"Now we have to pin all these recent murder on you," said the first one. It was Guard, the one who had confronted me in the plaza before the first murder. I knew it was. I could practically hear his arrogant smirk. "Silence witnesses, etc. etc."
He enjoys this, I thought with disgust.
"What did you do to Eltrys?" I ground out.
Guard laughed. If I had the strength, I would have grabbed my bow and shot him through the neck, to Oblivion with the consequences. "What does it look like?" he said. "We did the same thing we do with all other natives who want to change things around here."
Fear for Garvey and Omluag immediately flashed through my mind, and I prayed that they were safe.
"We had a nice little deal going on between Thonar and Madanach until you and Eltrys started snooping around. You wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? You'll have plenty of time with the King in Rags when you're in Cidhna Mine."
I spat on the ground.
"You lot are filthy," I hissed. "Corrupt beyond salvation. You bastards deserve to rot in the worst part of Oblivion."
Guard approached me menacingly. I knew I should turn and run, but I couldn't find the strength. I could see him evaluate my burnt sleeve and the blood seeping from and through my left hand.
"Seems like a little elf got a bit too deep in over her head," he said, advancing towards me until my back hit a wall and I couldn't retreat any further. "I should have arrested you earlier, but I guess criminals all end up in the same place."
"And you should be coming with me," I snarled.
"Ranmir..." one of the other guards said cautiously.
Ranmir silenced the other man with a hand. "Don't try to stop me," he said, stepping close to me until his helmet was inches from my face. He was trying to intimidate me, and it was working. "This wench," – he emphasized the word by grabbing a fist full of my hair – "needs to be be taught a lesson in respect."
"You're insane," I gasped, wincing as his gloved fingers intertwined more deeply in my hair..
I saw his face contort in rage through the slits in his helmet. One thing was clear to me – this man had a deep seated superiority complex and couldn't stand his authority being challenged. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.
Without warning, he kneed me as hard as he could in my left side, directly into my bleeding wound. My scream echoed loudly in the Shrine as excruciating pain erupted from it. My head swam and I would have collapsed had he not been holding me up by my hair.
"You'll never see the light of day again, understand me?" Guard growled in my face as black spots encroached on the edges of my vision. He let go of my hair and let me crumple to the ground in an unceremonious and bleeding heap. "No one escapes Cidhna Mine."
My eyes closed, and I listened to the sound of a heated argument that sounded miles away, but just before I lost consciousness completely, I thought I heard that ghost of a sly laugh whisper once again in my ear before the darkness claimed me for good.