"Dayan wasn't always the leader of our group. Our original commander was a Breton named Guilbert."
"You were a military unit of some sort?"
"No, I use the term commander lightly. He was more like the bastard we all bit our tongues and worked for to make bundles of money. He had a number of contacts across the southern provinces and always got the best jobs for us, but he was a revolting individual who took no value in our lives. We were a means to an end, and the end was always coin. He often put us into situations with impossible odds, which didn't matter to him because we were expendable."
"He sounds like a real bastard. Where is Roe in all this?"
"Not yet young author, but we're getting there…"
Chaos. Pure unadulterated overwhelming chaos. Dayan suspected that Guilbert, upon seeing the vast amounts of well-armed soldiers and cavalry, triggered the ambush early out of panic. Guilbert was always the first to fire, the signal prompting the start of an ambush. The Breton was a savvy businessmen and an okay fighter, but a lousy shot. His arrow sailed through the air like a wet pair of pants and landed on the jungle floor in front of a foot soldier. Unfortunately, because Guilbert initiated the attack early, the rest of the team was unprepared and the ensuing ambush was disorganized and sloppy. The infantrymen immediately formed a defensive dome made from their circular metal shields, protecting themselves from the storm of arrows that soon followed. The quickness and methodical formation of the classic boulder defense was a sign that these troops were Legion trained, if not actual Legionnaires. Only the ankles and feet of the infantry soldiers were exposed, however they too were protected with iron and steel knee-high greaves.
"Come on gods dammit! Charge!"
A number of mercenaries foolishly charged forward towards the wall of shields, their swords and battle axes raised high above their heads. These mercenaries were not a part of the group Dayan served with. They belonged to an outfit Guilbert hired to help with this particular job. The soldiers, safe within their dome, held their position as the mercenaries recklessly advanced. Like a great sea monster opening its mouth to devour a ship, the wall of shields opened revealing six sharply pointed spears. The spears pierced torsos and necks and three mercenaries were instantly killed. The fourth managed to slow his momentum and was only impaled in the gut. Just seconds later, two more spears finished him off with stabs to the chest. Dayan was extremely impressed, and worried, by the elite precision these soldiers fought with. So quick did this all transpire that Dayan missed the opportunity to fire an arrow in the opening of the shield dome.
A second wave of five more mercenaries charged forward towards the dome's right flank. In the same manner as before, the shield wall opened and from the gap emerged a number of spears some of them stained with blood. This time Dayan was prepared, already in a full sprint moving down from his spot on a hill overlooking the dirt road. Avoiding the arrow fire from his companions, Dayan crossed the dirt road and found cover in a small ditch. From this vantage point he had a clear shot of the gap in the shield wall and wasted no time in exploiting this weakness.
Dayan could tell the shot from his bow was successful when one of the large metal shields recoiled and eventually fell from its position. With the second wave of mercenaries now dead and dying on the jungle floor, the infantry soldiers closed their wall, but failed to notice gap left by the missing shield. Before they could remedy the problem, another of Dayan's ebony arrows sailed through into the opening and a second shield fell. Dayan repeated the process as fast as he could. From other positions hidden among the thick foliage, more arrows penetrated the widening gap. The soldiers hiding behind their shields desperately fought to reform the dome, trying not to trip over the bodies of their fallen comrades. The shield dome leviathan recoiled backwards as if wounded. Realizing the futility of their defense, the infantry soldiers broke off to engage in individual combat with their aggressors. Dayan, caught off guard by this desperate maneuver dropped his bow and drew his blade.
Toji Va'Rikijin, longtime employee of Guilbert, Dayan's teammate and avid moon sugar addict, leapt (or rather fell) from a branch high above the ambush site and landed in the middle of the infantrymen. The Khajiit looked malnourished and his fur was patted down drenched in sweat and rainwater. Toji was a sorry individual who lived for nothing but moon sugar, sex, and killing – mostly moon sugar. In his paws were two of the scariest looking blades Dayan had ever seen, golden scimitars much like the one he carried only much larger.
The Khajiit mercilessly carved a path through the unprepared infantry soldiers slicing at their backs and necks. Each time his mighty blade cut into an opponent, Toji let loose a bloodcurdling roar. Like most Khajiit he was very nimble and quick. He easily somersaulted and contorted his body to avoid retaliatory slashes. The infantrymen fell to the ground spurting blood from their wounds, trying to clutch limbs that were no longer there. Dayan held his position, aware that Toji sometimes could not discern friend from foe when he was in a murderous rage.
A soldier fleeing from Toji's carnage ran unknowingly towards Dayan. The Redguard was less bloodthirsty than his Khajiit counterpart and dispatched the soldier with a kick to the back of his knee and a strike from the pommel of his sword to the man's right temple. The soldier fell to the ground unconscious. By any amount of good fortune he would survive if he could remain still until the battle was over. Dayan gathered himself and watched Toji finish off the remaining soldiers before collapsing from exhaustion. He rushed to the Khajiit's side but did not touch him, fearful he might be mistaken for an enemy. Once Dayan was convinced Toji was alive, he continued towards the rear of the convoy where the remaining mercenaries were finishing off the surviving cavalrymen.
Boom! One of the riders was dismounted with a bolt of lightning to the chest. Boom! Boom! The humid jungle air was electrified with every subsequent blast. Crack! Boom! Another cavalry soldier was sent flying through the air and impacted the base of a large tree. The soldier sizzled as electricity coarsed through his body. Dayan saw another member of his team, the female Dunmer named Sasha, was the source of these magical attacks. Her mastery of destruction magic was impressive. In one hand she fired bolts of lighting and with the other she blew scorching hot fire. The flames scared the horses, some bucking their riders to the ground. Flanking her on both sides were two more of his teammates, the Nord Jayred "Ice Veins" and the Orc Mogakh gro-Oram. As the cavalry riders fell, the Orc and Nord quickly thrust their battle-axes upon them with deadly untamed ferocity. The cavalrymen's armour crunched unable to withstand the blow of a well forged steel axe.
The dirt road was too narrow for the cavalry soldiers to make an organized charge. One by one the mounted soldiers were killed either by fire, lightning, axe, or arrow. Sasha, Jayred and Mogakh walked down the trail leaving dead and wounded animals and men behind them. Dayan tried not to look at the wounded soldiers' faces as he thrust his sword into their chests to finish them off. The reason Dayan preferred his bow was to avoid having to humanize all of the people he killed. From a distance they were just bodies, but up close they were actual people.
At the end of the caravan, the Dunmer, Nord and Orc checked themselves over for wounds. Dayan thankfully didn't have to finish off more than a few wounded soldiers. The noisy jungle grew silent. His team needed to begin cleaning up the site and getting ready to leave before any reinforcements arrived. This sense of urgency and professionalism was why Guilbert's Riders, as the Breton liked to call his team, had survived for so long against rival mercenary groups, bandits, and the native folk of the southern provinces. Dayan suspected after this latest ambush, they could add yet another faction to their growing list of enemies.
The Riders were a forced collection of unique individuals; a veritable prison with no walls where Guilbert was the warden and the prisoners wielded the weapons. Everyone in the group had their own reasons for this indentured service though it was taboo for anyone to speak about it. In three years, Toji was the only Rider to mention his sentence – the Khajiit owed a lot of money to moon sugar dealers. Dayan could thank his compulsive gambler of a brother, Amir, for his time in the Riders.
The Redguard knelt down beside one of the dead Legionnaires and wiped the blood off his blade using the man's tunic. A few moments passed and the natural sounds of the jungle slowly overcame the silence. Guilbert was nowhere to be heard or found – Dayan wasn't sure if this was necessarily a bad thing.
"Sasha, Jayred – head up the road and check to see if anyone else is coming." Dayan ordered. "Mogakh, secure our right and tell my brother to take the left. I'm going to find Guilbert."
Without a word everyone split off to complete their assignments.
Dayan covered his nose and mouth trying to block out the putrescent smell of death as he traversed back towards the center of the ambush site, searching the ground along the way for any signs of Guilbert. What remained of the second mercenary team was already scrounging valuables off the bodies of the dead cavalry and infantry soldiers. Their fixation on these insignificant items showed how ignorant these soldiers-for-hire were. Morally, Dayan had no illusions that he was just as morally rotten as they were, but the professionalism of the Riders made them a coveted asset in the underground conflicts of Valenwood.
Since King Llethan of Morrowind repealed the Tribunal ban on settlement and trade in Valenwood eight years ago, a mass influx of goods and business had poured in to the land of the Bosmer. From all across the Empire, merchants, traders, craftsman, and employees of small and large businesses alike all rushed to stake their claims and monopolize business with the native Wood Elves. These businesses vied for control of everything from importing lumber, to providing workers for construction projects. With such a large monetary effort vested in the modernization of Valenwood, military presence became a necessity.
Fighters Guild members were the first non-Legion soldiers to accept work during the influx. They served as ground guides and bodyguards assigned to escort caravans along trade routes and safeguard building sites. For a number of years the Fighters Guild flourished even receiving Charters to safeguard Imperial goods. These seasoned warriors did well to protect against disorganized bandits and marauders, but struggled when groups of retired soldiers and experienced mercenaries began to emerge. Soldier-of-fortune units like Guilbert's found themselves on the payrolls of big business hired to sabotage and destroy the competition. Aggressive negotiations, competitive pricing and the occasional case of commercial espionage were standing operating methods. In the untamed wilderness of Valenwood, businesses sometimes resorted to less conventional means.
It was commonplace for mercenaries, marauders and bandits to trade out armour and weapons with dead enemy – the spoils of war. These mercenaries hadn't realized it yet, but the bodies that littered the jungle floor were not just ordinary hired help. Dayan recognized a unique tattoo on the arms of several of the dead soldiers – a red lion standing on two legs with outstretched claws and an ornate tail. These soldiers were knights in service to the Duke of Poitevin, a small duchy in High Rock, dressed differently to accommodate the harsh environmental conditions of Valenwood. He did think it a bit odd they chose not to wear any identifying clothing or armour, a sign that the cargo was either very important or very illegal.
As the mercenaries scavenged banged up armour and scratched weapons, Dayan poked his head into one of the covered wagons. The canvas covering was torn with holes from arrow fire, but the goods seemed undamaged. Underneath a thick cowhide blanket and a feather mattress were eleven wooden crates emblazoned with the Imperial Seal. They were secured by brass latches and a thick padlock no sword could cut through. This was the actual objective of their mission. Searching the second covered wagon revealed a similar cargo, eight crates secured and hidden in the same manner. Guilbert's contact refused to divulge what was being transported in the crates and the second mercenary team was not to even know about this special cargo. Dayan innocently covered them back up and continued his search of the bodies.
Elgamil stood with Toji who had awoken from his murder-induced coma, giggling and speaking as cordially as if they were out for a walk in the city plaza on a sunny day. Neither seemed too concerned about the piles of dead bodies surrounding them.
"Elgamil, I need you up in the tress on look-out, we could have more troops on the way."
"I want to help find Guilbert! He loves it when we play hide and seek!"
"You can look for him up in one those trees right?"
"Dayan!" The Bosmer playfully pushed the Redguard. "You know that would be cheating."
The Bosmer was a fierce and respected warrior but just as crazy as Toji. Rumours among the Riders circulated a gruesome tale of how the tiny Bosmer went insane and ate her family before fleeing to Elsweyr. Dayan was in no mood for her usual games.
"I need you up top so –"
Elgamil grabbed Dayan gently by the chin, squeezing his cheeks together like a fish. She turned the Redguard's face to the side and hushed him with a finger over her lips.
"He's sleeping…"
Dayan felt a chill go up his spine. The body of Dayan's boss, the Breton named Guilbert, lay motionless on the jungle floor. Around his neck was a tether tied several times around his neck, pulled so tight that it cut into his flesh. He could tell Guilbert had been dead for several minutes, probably killed early on in the ambush. His face was bloated and white, his lips were blue and eyes open. From where the tether penetrated into Guilbert's neck blood oozed out soaking the Breton's shirt collar. What surprised Dayan the most was that neither Elgamil nor Toji chose to do anything about the individual still pulling on the tether.
He wasn't sure who, or what, he was looking at. A beast? Animal? Boy? Its skin was a faint brown like a Redguard and it was bald with the exception of a small tuft of red hair tied in a top knot like an Orc's. One of its ears had been almost entirely cut off leaving a deformed mess of skin. It looked like it had at one time been muscular, but malnutrition and abuse ravaged the teenager's body. The boy's chest, arms and legs were covered in curly red hair and its face was beaten and worn. He guessed the boy was at least seventeen years of age.