A/N: This one's pretty short, but it's also the end of Cidhna Mine, so that's awesome. Definitely not the last of the Forsworn, but after this their storyline is going to be original and not game-written, so I'm excited for that. Finally get to use my own dialogue again the whole time. Anyway, thanks as always to my beta reader (and sister) GrowlingPeanut, and reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Bethesda Softworks and George R. R. Martin. Except for Dar'Jazha.
Rating: M for violence and death.
The escape tunnel was cramped, even for one, let alone the entire mine's worth of prisoners. They crawled through on their hands and knees, each trusting the one before to get them through to freedom.
Madanach led the way, a nearly burned out tallow candle clenched in his fist to light the narrow walls of the tunnel. With each step forward the effort seemed more hopeless, but just as Dar'Jazha began to fear that they would all die in their attempt, a gust of air extinguished the candle, and in its place, a faint glow shone in the distance.
"That's the end, brothers," Madanach said triumphantly, and sure enough, within a few minutes the tunnel had opened into a massive chamber, its walls decorated with Dwemer metal that had long since tarnished with age.
"These are the ruins of the old keep," the King in Rags explained as he led them onward. "A few of the Jarl's guards aren't quite as loyal as he believes and over the decades since my imprisonment, they have cleared the way through to the city so that we may be the free folk in truth once again."
Dar'Jazha followed quietly at the rear. Though these men might have been the only hope that the Khaleesi had to reclaim her throne, he did not trust them. Not in the slightest. He had already seen firsthand that they would rather put a shiv in a friend's back than make peace.
The broken shells of Dwemer automatons and the shriveled corpses of the tunnel's former eight-legged inhabitants lent a ring of truth to Madanach's tale of traitorous guards, at least, and he was grateful that the way had been cleared. With little more than rags on their backs and shivs for weapons, their deaths would have been likely in the event of a fight.
As they rounded a corner, a heavy golden door rose to meet them, and the men and women gathered at it snapped to attention.
"My king!" A young woman in Forsworn armor stepped forward as Madanach walked to meet her. "I've brought what you asked for."
After Madanach's revelation, their escape had not been immediate. He had sent Borkul through before the others to deliver a letter and ready the Forsworn that would meet them on the other side. Slowly, over four days, they sent one more man at a time with as much silver as he could carry. It was those who remained on the fifth day that were now at Madanach's side for the final escape.
The Forsworn king nodded in approval. "Good work. You lot get ready while I speak with our newest ally here."
The young woman nodded and the prisoners dispersed, moving to join the Forsworn at the door and eagerly accepting the armor and weapons that awaited.
"I had Kaie recover all the things the Nords stole from us. I believe there are a few weapons in particular that belong to you." Dar'Jazha couldn't help but sigh in relief. He had almost forgotten about the weapons that the Khaleesi had given him after they had been confiscated by the city guards.
"You had better get ready before we break out into the city," Madanach continued, his gaze wistful as he looked to his followers. "It's time to finally see the sky again, and to make it rain red."
With that, he left, and Dar'Jazha stood for a moment on his own before joining the others. Though he knew there would be bloodshed when they entered the city, he hoped he would not have to be a part of it. Grisvar's murder still weighed heavy on his mind, and he had no desire to add more death to his conscience.
"Take your weapons, Khajiit," the young woman Madanach had called 'Kaie' said as he approached, her arms crossed over her chest. "We will need a savage like you if we're to make it out of this alive."
His ears flattening at the insult, he ignored her words and searched for his weapons. Though Daenerys had taken the bow, she had left him with Jhogo and Rakharo: the whip and the blade. He still remembered her expression when he presented her with them at her wedding to the Khal. She had been so young and innocent then, and had already grown so much during their travels.
Removing his ragged tunic and replacing it with the boiled leather and wolf fur breastplate that the Forsworn had chosen to protect themselves with, he strapped the blade across his shoulders before curling his paw around the whip's dragonbone handle and giving it an experimental crack. The leather obeyed with ease, snapping impressively and turning a few heads.
"Are we ready, brethren?" Madanach called from the door, outfitted in an impressive suit of armor and gripping a jagged sword in each hand. An answering roar met the question and his teeth bared in a feral grin, dark eyes burning with pride and bloodlust.
"It will take time, but we can organize the Forsworn once again. We will reclaim our land and then, when power is ours, we will have peace. And a kingdom to call our own! But until then, let us offer those who oppose us a warning: beware the Forsworn! No place in the Reach is safe from us now."
With a collective war cry, the Forsworn flooded from the ruins and Madanach met Dar'Jazha's gaze once more. "If we survive this, Khajiit, we'll make our way to Druadach Redoubt. Meet us there if you still want that army." After a moment of hesitation, he removed his helmet and held it out. "Tie this to your saddle and my people will do you no harm."
The sunlight that greeted them was blinding, the roar of voices and pounding of feet deafening as they poured forth into the city. A cry of alarm went up from one of the city's guards, but died just as swiftly, fading into a sickening gurgle as his throat was slashed open by a Forsworn blade.
Within seconds, the city had erupted into chaos. Guards turned on each other, and those that were still loyal to the city were slaughtered as they struggled to find their enemies. With each body that fell, an answering cry rose up, leaving no question as to who had orchestrated the violence.
"For the Forsworn!"
"For the Forsworn!"
Overwhelmed by the swiftness with which the attack had begun, Dar'Jazha stood at the entrance to the ruins, watching as the men he had been imprisoned with enacted their revenge on those they blamed for their oppression.
Hardly a minute had passed since their escape when he found himself alone. The Forsworn had accomplished their task: the city had turned on itself, their captors were dead, and once again, they were free.
Slowly, Dar'Jazha moved forward, watching the blood that ran through the streets. A few Forsworn bodies lie among the guards' and as he approached one, its eyes opened and he recognized Uraccen, the Breton he had first met in the mine.
A ragged gasp escaped from his lips and a thin trail of blood ran across his chin as he struggled to speak. "So much...blood." He coughed and then shuddered as Dar'Jazha knelt by his side. "I followed them to my end. As did you, Khajiit. You're as much a fool as I am." He laughed wryly and then moaned in pain. "I just wanted to get out, but all I did was sentence myself to death. And my daughter…"
His gaze rose to the sky and a heavy sigh sent a new wash of blood across his lips. "At least I got the see the sun one last time."
Eyes still fixed toward the sky, Uraccen smiled faintly and reached for Dar'Jazha's hand. "I don't know what business you have with them, but…don't let them kill you too."
With his last wisdom imparted, his chest ceased to rise and Dar'Jazha gently closed his eyes before rising back to his feet. Though he knew that many more would die as the Forsworn regained their power, his heart ached for the dead man at his feet. He had been all but conned into a cause that was not his own and now had given his life for it. Though the Forsworn may live, their agents were left to die.
"Dar'Jazha!"
The sound of his name broke him from his reverie and he lifted his head to see Drogo running toward him, Thonar Silver-Blood at his side.
"What in the name of the gods happened?"
The Khajiit sighed and looked back to the bodies. "Madanach and his Forsworn escaped, yes..."
Thonar shook his head in defeat. "All of this is my fault. All I cared for was power, but I should've just ended Madanach's life the first chance I had. Now he's the one with the power and I have nothing. My wife was murdered, the Silver-Blood name has been dragged through the streets, and what little wealth I have left must go to righting this wrong."
He sighed heavily and removed the thick silver band from around his finger before extending it toward Dar'Jazha.
"This is of little use to me anymore, but perhaps it will do you some good. They say you lose a part of your soul when you go to Cidhna Mine, so take this by way of apology. I won't pretend that it wasn't my meddling that landed you there. Show this ring wherever the Silver-Blood name still has worth and you may find that your path will run smoother."
Nodding silently, Dar'Jazha accepted the ring and slid it onto his thumb. A bauble would do little to make up for what had happened in the depths of the mine, but he was loathe to reject the offering in light of Thonar's loss.
Disconsolate, the man who had once owned the city left them behind, walking to each of the bodies and gazing upon their faces. Though he was not solely to blame for what had happened, the deaths would weigh heavy on his heart until the day he died.
After watching him a moment, Drogo turned to his partner and raised an eyebrow. "I won't ask you what happened down there, but what did you learn of the Forsworn?"
Dar'Jazha looked at his Khal and shrugged slightly. "They are a brutal and savage people looking to retake their home and their freedom. If that can be achieved behind the Targaryen name, then they will fight for our Khaleesi, yes. Madanach is not a man of honor, but he may yet be a man of his word. They are moving to Druadach Redoubt. He said that should we seek to claim her army, that is where they will be waiting."
With a solemn expression, Drogo nodded and sheathed his sword. "Very well then. Let us bury these men and then gather the caravan. Soon, we will begin our journey once again."