A/N: Thanks to OnnaMusha and Ozymandeos for your reviews. Hoping this chapter lives up to your Dark Brotherhood expectations! Obviously, Llovesi is not going to have such a favourable outlook... Also, slight language warning.
Chapter 3: The Dark Brotherhood
Llovesi and Julan had appeared in a spacious, high-ceilinged hall. Llovesi's eye travelled from the floor, set in alternating stone slabs in moss and emerald green, to the walls, pale green and adorned only with red banners that fluttered in the summer breeze, to the vaulted ceiling. Several corridors and ornate staircases led out of the hall, but what truly caught the eye was a large planter in the centre, filled with sweet-smelling yellow and pink flowers, the like of which Llovesi had never seen before. With the stained-glass windows casting dappled light into the room, Llovesi had the impression of standing in a forest clearing–albeit one constructed entirely of marble and stone.
So this was the Royal Palace of Mournhold.
Several pages strolling about in robes, and what Llovesi presumed were the guards–all dressed in stylised ruby-red armour with mauve chain mail–had jumped at their sudden appearance. An Argonian talking to one of the pages cast them an appraising look and strode over, his robe billowing about his ankles.
"Greetings, seras," he said, bowing his head, his tongue darting through his scaly lips. "I am Effe-Tei, the court mage. I suspect you know that already, hmm? Why has Asciene Rane sent you here? This is most unusual."
His tongue darted through his lips again, and Llovesi wondered if it was a nervous tick. She explained their story quickly, leaving out all but the essential details. Effe-Tei's eyes widened, and he wrung his hands.
"Oh dear. I am afraid I would know nothing about that. You will have to ask one of the guards." He gestured for one of the amour-clad figures to come over, and quickly explained what Llovesi had told him.
The guard whistled, the sound echoing oddly in her closed helm.
"You want to go looking for the Dark Brotherhood? It's your funeral. Look, I've heard rumours that they have a hideout in the ruins of Old Mournhold. You can get there through the sewers in the Great Bazaar."
"Old Mournhold?" Julan asked.
"Old Mournhold–you know the ruins of the ancient city?" Effe-Tei asked. "You do not know? Well, in the First Era, Mournhold was attacked and destroyed by Mehrunes Dagon. Almalexia and Sotha Sil drove him back into Oblivion, but the city had to be rebuilt. That's what the statue in Plaza Brindisi Dorom commemorates. Come."
He led them up a short flight of stairs to a large, clear bay window, and pointed. They could see a large square, dominated by a fountain. In the middle of the fountain, two statues were frozen in ever-lasting battle. One, a robed and armoured woman, was spearing the other, a four-armed man with curling horns, through the chest. Almalexia and Mehrunes Dagon. Around the fountain were several stretches of green grass, with patches of shade cast by large trees. Families sat on the grass, and guards patrolled casually, both those in red armour and what looked like Ordinators. Well, it is a Temple City, Llovesi thought to herself as she watched the idyllic scene. Too bad it held something rotten beneath its surface.
She was hardly in the mood for beauty.
"There." Effe-Tei pointed to a door set in the walls of the Plaza through which a steady stream of people were passing. "That will lead you to the Great Bazaar. Go through the main doors here into the courtyard and turn right. The large gate leads onto the Plaza. The ruins of Old Mournhold are now used as the sewers. You will need to find a grate for access, but they are plentiful enough. I wish you both luck."
Llovesi and Julan thanked him, and turned to leave. Effe-Tei watched them go, then turned back to the window over-looking the Plaza. The guard who'd spoken with Llovesi and Julan joined him.
"That was her," she said.
Effe-Tei shifted slightly. "The female fits the description certainly. The scars, the ring... But we were not told about the male."
"No matter. He's probably just her consort or something. We'll have to take them both."
Effe-Tei licked his lips again and the guard frowned beneath her helm. It always annoyed her when he did that.
"You can't get cold feet. We have our orders."
"I know," Effe-Tei said, "but there is a lot we were not told about. The male. The murder..."
"I repeat: no matter. When they come back–if they come back, you know what to do."
The guard stalked off, leaving Effe-Tei gazing out over the Plaza beneath the midday sun. Poor warmbloods, he thought. It will be easier for them both if they die down there.
Llovesi and Julan squeezed through the crowd into the Great Bazaar. The weather was becoming sweltering, with only the slightest breeze. They were a lot further south here, and the summer weather reflected that. But still people flooded the streets. They were moving slower too, because people kept turning to stare at Llovesi's scars. Some were openly gawping, pointing and nudging their neighbours.
"Isn't that...?"
"That's her, I'm sure it is!"
"This is ridiculous," Julan grumbled, when they finally reached a clear spot on a sloping stone bridge that spanned the district. "Let me levitate up and see if I can spot any sewer grates."
He moved his hands across his body to perform the spell, but instead of lifting him into the air, the magicka dissipated into the ground as if it were being sucked from his body.
Julan frowned. "That doesn't normally happen," he said.
He raised his arms to try again, but one of the Ordinators was rushing over. His Indoril armour was silver instead of gold, and embellished with many sashes and a long chainmail skirt.
"Halt!" he called. "By order of the Lady Almalexia, Lady of Mercy, all levitation is banned in Mournhold. No one's head shall rise higher than her own. You'll have to go into the outer city if you want to fly around."
"Higher than–?" Julan muttered incredulously. "What happens if people want to go upstairs for Azura's sake? Lady of Egoism, more like. Okay, never mind. I just wanted to find the nearest sewer grate."
"Adventurers are you?" It was impossible to tell the guard's expression beneath the metal mask, but Llovesi half fancied he was raising an eyebrow sarcastically, as the Ordinators did so well. "Finish crossing the bridge then head down into the lower Bazaar. There's a grate every ten feet or so in the back alleys. In future, kindly refrain from slurring the Goddess. Almsivi be with you."
"He was strangely helpful for an Ordinator," Llovesi said as he walked away. "I expected him to arrest you just for insulting one of the Tribunal."
"High Ordinator," Julan corrected as they walked over the bridge. "I think I've read about them. They serve the Temple and Almalexia here in Mournhold, while the ones who weren't good enough get sent over to Vvardenfell. No wonder they're more cheerful over here. Of course, they're still pious idiots serving a false God."
"Not any more," Llovesi reminded him. Almalexia would have lost her divinity three months ago, along with the rest of the Tribunal. And for a woman who insisted no one's head rise above her, it sounded as if it had been incredibly important to her... Vivec's words came back to her, drifting into her mind from months ago: "Almalexia takes her divinity very seriously, and the loss will weigh heavily on her..."
They quickly found a grate and slipped down into the tunnel below. It was dark and dank and smelt just as bad as the sewers they'd trudged through in Vivec.
"Urgh," Julan said, kicking some unidentifiable sludge from his boot. Then he turned to look at Llovesi, suddenly serious.
"This is it," he said. "Are you ready?"
"I am. Let's get the sick bastards."
However diverting Mournhold's differences had been, their purpose here was singular. Destroy the Dark Brotherhood, and get out. As Julan had said: this was it.
Julan cast a light spell, and the small orb of sparkling light cast their faces into shadow as they trudged through the sewers, weapons raised. The heat of the day touched them less down here, but the smell lingered as they moved on. Here and there they could see evidence of the old city–a faded mosaic, a collapsed pillar, a long rusted gate. It occurred to Llovesi as they crept along that even the ground they walked on looked as if it had once been a street.
They reached a set of intricate, if rusted, gates that were still intact and blocking their progress.
"Look," Julan murmured, pointing to a mark near the left gate. It was small and subtle, but Llovesi could make it out in the light that bobbed around their heads. A black hand.
"You think that's it?" she asked.
"Yes. Unless there's another gang running around down here. Which I guess wouldn't surprise me."
He took his bow from his back and fitted an arrow to the string. "Are you ready?"
Llovesi shifted her spear to her right hand and drew the Fang of Haynekhtnamet in her left. She'd learnt a little about the powerful dagger she'd taken from Dagoth Araynys in Mamaea, and she was glad to have it in her hand now.
"I'm ready," she said, and bit her lip. "I love you."
"I love you too," he whispered, and pushed the gate open with his shoulder. It swung inwards easily.
Hot fear suddenly clawed its way into Llovesi's throat. They were about to enter a den of assassins, not to reason with them this time, but to destroy them. Would she be kidding herself if she thought they were going to come out alive? She glanced at Julan's face yet again as they crept forward. No–neither of them wanted this to be a suicide mission. They would leave here with their lives because Mashti didn't have hers any more.
The tunnel led up to a door. Llovesi felt that if they weren't both so resolved in vengeance they would have turned and fled. Because it was one of the most terrifying things she had ever seen. A cloud-like skull with leering sockets, emblazoned with the same black hand they had passed earlier. It looked over the figure of a woman worshipped by skeletons. It was as if a cult had come to pray in a battlefield, where all was red and black. Everything seemed to be throbbing. Disgust twisted Llovesi's guts, but then the skull's eyes shone red, and a dark whisper emanated forth:
"What is the scent of night?"
Llovesi glanced at Julan, anything to avoid looking at the skull, whose sockets seemed like windows to a void. A riddle, then? What scents could be associated... ?
"Blood," she whispered.
The door creaked open. There were old buildings beyond, or more accurately ruins, but rocks and dirt were swallowing them all. It looked as if the earth was actively trying to reclaim them. There were signs of habitation though–rickety wooden walkways had been constructed, a large campfire surrounded by benches sat on the floor of the pit.
Then Llovesi saw a black-clad figure leave one of the ruined buildings and walk over to the campfire and she was near-blinded by a fury she had never known nor felt before.
She didn't remember that much about the details of the fight later, only impressions. It all happened so quickly.
The rage left her mind through her fingertips: a massive fireball that seared the air as it flew toward the assassin, who dodged only just in time. Badly singed, the woman had time to yell in pain and confusion before one of Julan's arrows found her throat. She stuttered and fell to her knees, clawing at the shaft protruding from her neck.
But her shout had alerted the others, who were running from buildings, struggling on armour, unsheathing weapons. Beside her Julan grabbed two arrows, nocked one and loosed it, then the other. Another assassin fell to the ground, but more were running towards them now. An ebony dart whizzed past Llovesi ear, and she raised her spear to waist level and charged down into the cavern. She caught an assassin in the stomach, the sharpened glass punching straight through their armour. As they jerked back, she slit their throat.
An assassin jumped toward her from behind, and she wheeled round, the dead assassin falling from her spear, to kick the new one back and crack his skull with her spear. An arrow thucked into his chest.
"Blindside, Llovesi!" Julan called, dropping his bow and drawing his sword.
Llovesi turned to her left and pushed the assassin back with her spear, before impaling their chest and dragging the spear up to their throat. She backed up to a nearby building so they could no longer approach her weaker side. She'd put work into learning how to fight all over again with the loss of her eye, but this was testing. There were so many of them, so many to destroy.
All she saw was red and black, all she heard was the pounding of blood in her ears and the shrieks of all the fallen. She struck, again and again. They landed blows on her, she felt hot blood on her arms, a deep ache in her chest, but they were falling. She heard a voice call, and a hand fall on her shoulder. She jumped to one side to deflect a blow that never came. For it was Julan, Julan sending healing sparks up and down her body and mouthing something.
"Llovesi, they're all dead. Stop, Llovesi. They're all dead."
"Not quite."
He had come so quietly that they hadn't even noticed him in the doorway of the building next to them. Dressed in the dark leather armour, but without the full helm, his grey hair hung in two sleek ponytails over his shoulders. He was holding a tightly rolled scroll, but he let it drop as he surveyed the scene in front of them.
"Impressive," the Dunmer assassin said. "I would consider offering you membership, had it not been my brothers and sisters that you have slaughtered. And there remains the small matter of the contract on your head."
He drew his dagger so lazily that Llovesi didn't even realise what he was doing until he was upon her.
She ducked, and felt the dagger bite into her forehead. But as she blinked blood from her eye, the master assassin made a strange choking noise. Julan had jumped on his back, and was holding his bow in both hands, pulling it tight against the assassin's throat.
Llovesi didn't need another signal. Taking her dagger, she thrust it up into the assassin's chin.
He dropped into Julan arms, raising a weak hand to his throat in what looked like disbelief.
"No... tell my liege... I have... failed h..." he spluttered, his eyes rolling up into his head until all they could see were his bloodshot eyeballs.
Julan dropped the assassin, breathing hard, and went to pick up the scroll he had dropped.
"What did he mean, 'my liege'?" Llovesi asked softly, more to herself than to Julan, but he answered her, scanning the scroll with worried eyes:
"The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute Llovesi..."
He swallowed hard.
"Llovesi, I think he meant Helseth. King Hlaalu Helseth of Morrowind. The King of Morrowind wants you dead."
A/N: Okay, so Tribunal's Dark Brotherhood was way different from anything we saw in the later games, but as I was editing this chapter I thought, "why not add one of those door things?" Et voilà. Next chapter on Monday, hopefully!