Hark, is this an update I spy?

I apologize to and thank all those who are, for some reason, still following this story, and even those who are just discovering it. When I said that I wouldn't be posting for a while, even I didn't quite expect it to be quite so long. So finally. Here's chapter nine.

Enjoy!

I was trembling. I knew it was cold – it was freezing, and by all rights I should be black from frostbite head to toe, but I felt nothing.

I was in the middle of a blizzard. I think. Everything was white. I couldn't tell where the earth ended and the sky began. Snow seeped into my boots with each, arduous step as I waded through the knee-deep sea of white.

"Hello?" I called out.

The wind whipped the words from my tongue and tore it to shreds before it left my mouth.

"HELLO," I screamed this time, my throat ripping, but the result was the same.

I fell to me knees, the snow enveloping my waist, and wrapped my arms around myself, my shaking uncontrollable.

The snow around me was turning red, the color seeping and spreading around me like a spiderweb from a wound in my left side, and I turned, watching the red spiral outwards like glass breaking.

I heard a laugh. It was familiar and loud and wicked. It whispered like a temptress' sultry voice and howled in my ears like psychopathic wind.

"Oh, Kasha," I heard it sigh before another gale picked up, whipping my hair around in my face and flying away with another hearty chuckle and a faint creaking in the background.

I tried to stand up, only to find the snow had frozen around me, molding around my waist. Panic welled up in my chest, as my struggles proved fruitless. An hysterical sob escaped my chapped lips and I slammed my fists repeatedly into the solid anchor encasing my lower body. The web of red – of blood I realized now – expanded as far as my eyes could see, finally defining a horizon in the expanse of white.

My fists pounded into the ice, again and again.

Again and again.

Again and again.

Again and –

Crack!

I froze mid swing, feeling the frozen earth around me jolt.

C-Cra-ack!

I felt the snow shifting around me with each crack, and then all at once the ice shattered, splitting along the bloody web spiraling around me.

My breath hitched in my throat, on the verge of a scream...

And then I was falling into blackness.

I woke with a start. Or at least, I would have if I had the strength to do anything but slowly open my eyes. I felt a hundred times worse than when I'd woken up with a hangover in the Temple of Dibella. I tried to move, but as soon as I shifted, an enormous pain ripped through my side and right arm.

I whimpered, but the sound ended up being more like a warbled moan.

I lay there, breathing deeply and looking at the rocky ceiling, an emptiness deep inside the cavity of my chest.

I remembered everything that happened before I blacked out clear as day and I wanted to be pissed. I had every damn right to be pissed. But I wasn't.

Why wasn't I? I had just been framed and unjustly imprisoned for what would probably be the rest of my life. A month ago this situation would have had me flying off the handle, but now...

It took me a while, but somehow I managed to swing my legs over the side of the lumpy prison bed. My torso, right arm, and left hand were heavily bandaged, though the cloth was brown with my dried blood and looked as dirty as the thin, hardly decent rags I wore over them.

The rusty hinges of the cell door squealed as it was pushed open.

"You're finally up," said a bulky Orc woman. "About damn time. Been a waste of our resources here. You're in Cidhna Mine and you're expected to earn your keep."

I winced, my side throbbing, but it was a lesser pain than I last remembered. How long had I been unconscious? I voiced my question.

"A little over a week and a half," said the Orc. "In and out of consciousness, although conscious is being generous. You probably don't remember anything."

I didn't. I said nothing.

"Get up. It's break time for the prisoners at the moment so get down there and orient yourself. You'll be mining ore here until you're throwing up silver bars, so you better get used to your surroundings."

A snarky remark surfaced briefly in my murky mind, but I quickly suppressed it. There was a time and place for everything, and this was neither the time nor the place. Instead, I obediently bowed my head and hobbled out of the cell, feeling naked and vulnerable without my armor. The descent into the mine was onerous and tiring, the current condition of my body making the simple task of walking down the stairs into the pit excruciating. It took a while, but I finally made it, aware of the two sets of eyes in the vicinity watching my progress. The cavern was lit by flickering torches placed sparingly along the walls and a decent fire in the centre. A thin man sat alone by the flames, and an imposing orc with white face paint, horns jutting out of his forehead, and biceps the size of my waist stood by a closed cell door, presumably acting as a makeshift guard. I could see already that there was an hierarchy in this prison, and the thought made my mouth go dry. I knew how these systems worked. An hierarchy meant that, as the newbie, I was the omega of the pack. The lowest of the low. And as injured as I was, I would be perceived as easy prey to the alphas.

"You're not looking too hot," said the man sitting on the floor.

"You look worse than I do, and I'm the one covered in bloody rags," I retorted, refusing to show weakness.

The man smiled. "That is what you get when you are forced to do back breaking labour for hours on end. My name is Uraccen. Come, sit. You look like you can barely stand let alone mine silver."

I hesitated but it was true. My legs were already feeling the consequences of a week and a half of inactivity. I sat down a safe distance away from him, my legs practically sobbing in relief.

"So what are you in for, new blood?"

"Nothing. I'm innocent," I answered stonily.

He laughed at that. "Innocent?" he mocked. "So was I - for the first one. The other murders were all me. My advice? Serve your time with a pickaxe and get out. Don't want to end up getting a shiv in the guts over a bottle of Skooma."

My nose wrinkled at that. I should have expected that Skooma would be prevalent even here. The drug was rampant in the underworld so I had my fair crossings with it, but I had never really developed a taste for it. It was too… catty for my taste.

"What about you?" I asked. "What exactly are you in for?"

"Me? A Nord nobleman I served was stabbed in the night. Wasn't me, but I knew I'd be blamed. So I ran. Joined the Forsworn. Started killing, got caught, ended up here. That's basically the whole story. Left behind my daughter Uaile when I was taken though."

"…You're kidding."

"Why would I kid?"

"Nevermind, it's nothing."

"Do you know Uaile?"

I debated for a moment how much I should tell him, if I should say anything at all.

"You could say that," was the answer I ended up with.

"Is she okay?"

"She was… alive… when I left her," I said as evasively as possible, clutching my side unconsciously. I had to avert my gaze from the earnest look on his face, feeling an unreasonable wave of guilt wash over me. She had tried to kill me, but it never occurred to me that she might have family. Did Nepos have family? What about the other two that I killed?

I groaned, and hid my face in my knees. A thief with a conscience was a very poor thief indeed. Could I even still be considered a thief if I was going to spend who knows how long in this gods forsaken place?

"Are you okay?" Uraccen asked.

"No," I admitted, when a thought occurred to me. I perked up and looked at him again. "Is Madanach here?"

He chuckled. "If you're asking, that means you're the new lifer. Tough luck, friend. Those guards sold you out but good."

I pursed my lips. I already knew that, but it didn't sound any better coming from someone else.

Ranmir… A name for the ruthless guard. I'm gonna kill that guy. Then they'll have a reason to throw me in jail.

"But he's here though, right?" I persisted.

"No one talks to Madanach, I'm afraid. Not without getting past Borkul the Beast anyway." He jerked his head in the direction of the intimidating orc glowering at us from his position. "And trust me, you don't want to talk to Borkul the Beast. I heard he ripped a man's arm off and beat him to death with it. He'd old fashioned like that."

I glanced at the orc, making unfortunate eye contact with the massive creature. He grinned menacingly at me and licked his lips, his tongue running over the sharp fangs jutting out of his bottom jaw as well. I shuddered and looked back at Uraccen.

"There's gotta be a way I can talk to Madanach."

"Sorry, friend," he said, sounding almost sincere. "That's the only way I'm afraid."

It took me a couple more days to build up the courage to approach Borkul the Beast. In the mean time, I familiarized myself with the mine and its other occupiers. The guards came in once during this time to collect the ore and hand out food. I was forced to mine too of course. The work was painful and seemingly endless. I was the only female in the mine aside from the orc guard who was there when I woke up which kept me up at night sometimes on high alert, but despite being abused and having the wounds on my side and hand reopen more than once, I was recovering at an alarmingly fast pace. The mere fact that I had avoided infection in an area such as this with only a few changes in cloth for my wounds was a miracle in itself, but the rate in which my strength was returning was far beyond that of a miracle. Most importantly, though, I felt the fire of my determination beginning to rekindle.

It was the fourth day that I felt strong enough to approach Borkul the Beast without trembling in my nonexistent boots.

"Ah, the new meat," the orc grinned. I was hyper aware of his black eyes examining me up and down as I approached, and I wished for the hundredth time that I had my thieves guild armor back. He was shirtless as always, his muscles bulging, and I could see every strand of black chest hair that spanned his green body. Standing in front of him, I felt like a little girl again. "So soft. So tender…" his low voice continued to rumble. "What was it like killing your first one, huh?"

"I'm not a murderer."

"So I've heard," he said. "But that just makes you a murderer and a liar."

"I need to see Madanach," I said, refusing to continue down this line of conversation.

"That's fine. But you gotta pay a toll."

Uraccen had told me this would happen. He said it was different every time, depending on what Borkul the Beast wanted at that moment, so he couldn't help me if I didn't know what price I had to pay first. Uraccen had his price too surely, but I had a feeling his would probably be less steep than the orc's. It was because of this assumption that I was surprised at the simplicity of the Beast's request. He asked for a shiv, an item my sticky fingers had actually already swiped from Grisvar, another prisoner who, though I didn't dislike, I decided I didn't particularly like either, the day before. Borkul, too, seemed surprised that I already had a shiv in my possession.

"Well, since that toll was so easily paid, how about a kiss to go with it?" Borkul simpered, leaning in close. "The only other girl 'round here is that damned guard woman and she's even uglier than you are."

Ugh, in your dreams.

"Hey, I paid your bloody toll," I said, refusing to budge though I wanted nothing more than to recoil in disgust. "Just open the gate before I take that shiv and shove it through that tree trunk you call a neck."

My remark evoked a thunderous laugh from him - another surprise, but a relieving one.

He grinned widely as he opened the door. "Go on in. I believe the King in Rags was expecting you anyways..."