My Sweet Mother
By Jerickk
Chapter 1: My Sweet Mother (pt. 2)
Set 163 years after the death of Emperor Titus Mede II… (4E 364)
The night was pitch black, the wind didn't carry but the rain was falling hard, crashing against a cave far from the city edges of Falkreath. The water was dripping down the sides of the wall through cracks in the cave's roof. A single candle lit the cave preventing total darkness in the shadow of night. There sat a boy in silence, clutching a book as if it was a new born baby, flicking through the pages searching for the entry that he believed would bring the just desserts for the people of Falkreath city.
Tharic began lighting several other candles in the cave; they were arranged in a circle revealing a skeleton in the mist of the light. The skeleton itself still had bits of flesh attached to it, whereas most of the bones were stripped clean as if they never had flesh to begin with, inside the ribcage rested a human heart. The heart was fresh hardly a day old whereas the skeleton and the flesh were at least two days older, Tharic placed the book next to the skeleton; it had a thick black cover with no title on the front, the pages were as dark as the cover and much heavier than the norm.
Tharic reached for a bag and from out of that small leather bag he pulled out two things, an iron dagger and a plant with bright purple petals, it was known as Nightshade. Tharic began to pluck the petals from the flower and once he had a handful he proceeded to rub the petals onto the dagger's blade, as he did the blade began to glow with a slight purple tinge as the juices from the petals stained the iron.
Once Tharic had finished with the petals he moved ever so slightly closer towards the skeleton as if he was trying to savour the moment as much as he could. Now within striking distance Tharic raised his dagger above his head and began the assumed motions of stabbing the skeleton. As he continued to do this a hallowing echo could be heard throughout the cave.
"Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."
Tharic repeated this phrase all throughout the night until a shadowy figure stood in the entrance of the cave. It was the little ten year old girl from the road that Tharic's mother had warned him to run from, the girl's red and black dress was wet from the rain as was her short brown hair, her skin seemed to somewhat match the colour of the moon but her eyes matched her dress.
"I lost my mummy and daddy…. (giggles) rather convincing don't you think?"
"Yes, rather… I summon an assassin and I get a little girl?"
Tharic not having yet figured out what the little girl was, appeared disappointed at who had received his pray.
"O my dear boy, in truth, I'm no more a little girl than you are. I was once, of course. Three hundred years ago. What? Still haven't figured it out yet? Would you like me to smile a little bigger?"
Tharic paused for a moment until realizing the obvious answer.
"Vampire…. Should have figured, I must admit you did arrive a lot sooner than I thought you would. You should start a courier busy, you'd make a killing."
"O this one has a sense of humour, how nice. I have been stalking you for days; I was planning on killing you and was worried that the big angry mob from Falkreath would deprive me of the pleasure but after watching your movements it took me all of half a second to figure out what mischief you're been up to."
"Why did you want to kill me?"
"You saw the entrance to one of my sanctuaries, knowing the location of one creates quite a bit of a problem for me, as you can imagine. But we have business to discuss do we not?"
"Yes we do."
Tharic was quivering at the sight of the girl now that he knew what she was. Face to face with an assassin drove Tharic into an uneasy state, he needed the little girl but the girl also wanted him dead for her own reasons. But Tharic figured that was a problem for another time, he choose to deal with the one he had now.
"I heard about your mother by the way, terrible way to die and I should know, you have my condolences of course. Now whose head do you want mounted on your wall? The Jarl I assume, as it was he who sentenced your mother to burn at the stake"
"My contract is bigger than that"
"Is it now? Do you want a few villagers dead also? The ones that falsely accused your mother?"
Tharic soon realised that his fantasises were about to become reality, as he took a deep breath he also tried to take in the moment that he was now going to be responsible for the deaths of so many.
"I want everyone, currently living in Falkreath, dead. Men, woman, dogs they all must share the same fate like the one they forced onto my mother."
The girl stood silent, not making a move or gesture of any kind. The rain continued to fall heavily outside the cave, the sound getting louder as the night drew on.
"Quite a contract you offer."
"Don't tell me it's too big for the Brotherhood."
"No, we accept. But payment will of course have to be substantial for a contract this size; I must ask can you afford such a thing?"
"I have a house, it's yours and everything in it but I have a condition of my own."
"And what would that be? Dare I ask?"
"I must be allowed to take part in the contract. The Jarl must die by my hands."
Tharic knew that making demands from an assassin may not be the wisest of decisions that he has ever made but he knew, in what remained of his heart, that he must be the one to kill Jarl Flogar.
"Such a request is within reason for me to grant."
"No, it's a deal breaker, either I take part or there is no contract."
"Very well, your house will be taken as payment and you will be contacted when the Brotherhood is ready to proceed. I suggest you get some rest boy, you have a big day coming up."
And with that the vampire child disappeared into the night.
Tharic sat alone in the cave trying to get any rest he could but he felt uneasy about what he had just set in motion, the deaths of not one or two men, but that of an entire village. He felt that he was starting to feel remorse for those that he had damned but then the images of his mother raced through his head, her screams, her pain. After remembering his mother all those feelings of regret and remorse just seemed to dissipate into oblivion itself.
When morning struck Tharic arose from cave, he stepped outside but found that he wasn't sure what to do with himself, there were no guards to run from, no place to call home to run to. Tharic found himself just waiting outside the cave, looking for any sign that it was time for Falkreath and all that lived in her, to meet the void.
As Tharic lay under the rays of the sun, he found the desire to sleep once more. As he slept he noticed that he was not sleeping but dreaming, dreaming about Falkreath, about how it was before that night on the road. Falkreath was peaceful and welcoming; he remembered what Falkreath was like when he was only a boy of 2 or 3, not even knowing that he was a mage yet. The town's folk were kind and pleasant, all the mothers and grandmothers of the village were all coming up to him and intruding his space, grabbing him up into their arms, kissing his cheeks and forehead, Tharic's mother was not shy about showing her baby boy off to the whole village.
As the 3 year old Tharic was smiling and laughing in the arms of a strange woman he noticed that Falkreath started to change around him. Buildings started to catch on fire, arrows were flying down from the sky and laughter was turning into screams. Tharic was no longer in the arms of a woman he was standing in the middle of the town square, still a child and helpless to watch as the chaos resumed around him. Men and woman with hoods in red and black armour were wielding weapons and cutting down any and all that were unlucky enough to cross their path.
None were safe from the madness, as bodies started to litter the streets Tharic once again found himself in front of his burning mother, tied to the stake and a set alight. But this time it was different it was not like before, Tharic's mother was not screaming in pain or trying to escape, she seemed sad in fact, almost crying. Tharic was confused as this is not what he remembered happening the day of his mother's burning.
Tharic's mother leaned in towards her son, she was whispering something which Tharic could not hear, as he moved closer and closer still he heard nothing. But the movement of his mother's lips didn't stop so Tharic came closer; the phrase was but a whisper, barley able to understand, it wasn't until Tharic stepped into the fire that burned his mother that he was able to her what she was saying. Tharic leaned in and positioned his ear near his mother's mouth.
"How could you do this?"
Tharic awoke to find that it was night once again and that the night child was standing over him.
"Sweets dreams I hope."
"Not exactly"
Tharic didn't know what to make of his dreams, they weren't memories but they weren't conflictions of his subconscious, Tharic knew that this is want he wanted, what he demanded be done. But was it what his mother would have wanted?
"I must say you have caused quite a stir within my family, most are very eager about Falkreath. A few have even wished for me to inform you that this would have to be the most fun they have had in the last decade or so."
"Well goodie for them."
"As you can imagine killing bards and farmers does tend to get a little stale. Shall we proceed to Falkreath? My brothers and sister are waiting."
"Why not?"
Tharic followed the vampire to the edges of Falkreath city, along the way Tharic couldn't help but think about what his dream might have meant, was it a dream or was it perhaps some sort of message from his mother. Was she in some way trying to speak with Tharic from beyond death, Tharic knew that such a thing would in a general sense be possible as ghosts and spirits of the long dead roamed the earth so a message in his sleep would not be that far of a stretch.
Ahead Tharic could see that a group of eight men and woman were waiting off to the side of the road.
"Your family I assume."
"Yes, some are even willing to meet you."
The group moved closer greeting the vampire as she approached; there were eight in total, four men and four women. All of them wore the same red and black armour, most wore leather but some were wearing robes, mages Tharic assumed. A woman stepped forward, a dark elf, she wore a mask that covered her mouth and most of her nose and she also donned a hood, the elf had a presence about her, one of authority, Tharic could tell by the way she stood much more solid than the rest of the group.
Her eyes were black and red like most elf's of her kind, her skin was that of a light grey, slightly lighter than the usually.
"So this is the boy? Must say not at all what I expected, a lot prettier than you described Speaker."
The elf chuckled, her own words were soft and comforting like those of a mother, perhaps she was one as she looked old enough, no more than thirty years.
"Hush Droath, the boy is eager for the killing to start."
"As are we all Speaker, but surely we can spare but a few minutes to become acquainted with are new friend, after all, we will be spilling blood together."
Droath as it seemed the elf was called seemed to be in no hurry, wanting to speak more than stab.
"But where are my manners? My name is Droath and these are my brothers and sisters."
Tharic turned his attention to the rest of the group, among the remaining seven members there was a male Khajiit, an elderly Breton male, a young female Redguard, a middle aged Nord man, a middle aged Nord woman, a Breton male and a young female Imperial.
"Your contract was so big that the Falkreath Sanctuary didn't have enough assassins for the job, we had to borrow a few from Dawnstar."
Droath was not shy about revealing information about the brotherhood to Tharic. This in a way put him on edge as he assumed that the vampire still wanted him dead because he knew the location of the door, maybe they were all planning to kill Tharic after the Jarl was end, the brotherhood was known for tying up loose ends.
"Exactly how many holds do you have in Skyrim?"
"Curios little bugger aren't you? But no, I don't want to talk about little old us; I want to get to know you a little better. For starters can you fight or are we going to have to babysit you the whole time?"
Droath's tone changed from a playful cheer to a much more serious tone. The elf wasn't interested in playing bodyguard for the 16 boy.
Why should she? Droath after all was an assassin, payed to kill not protect, Tharic honestly found the question a little insulting, he knew that he was no trained killer but he wasn't a helpless newborn. Tharic raised his hands and ignited them with his blue fire; Tharic could see a slight expression of relief come across her face, now knowing that Tharic wasn't completely defenceless.
The elderly Breton male pushed his way to face Tharic, he found himself fascinated by his blue fire. He reached out to touch the flames and could feel the heat resonating from them, the Breton could only watch in fascination at the sight of the fire.
"I must say my boy in my years of dealing with magic I have never seen a mage conjure blue flames before, I must ask, how do you do it?"
The old man waited eagerly for an explanation but Tharic knew the one he was going to hear is not the one he wanted.
"I don't know, since I first started using magic blue fire is all I have ever been able to summon."
"What? You mean you have never summoned red flames"
"Blue is as easy for me as red is for you."
The old man found himself hobbling back to the group muttering under his voice, various things about how Tharic was as much help as a rock was to a swimmer. Droath found herself laughing under her voice at the Breton reaction.
"Don't mind Krex, he doesn't like anyone. Think of him as the cranky old grandfather that you never want to see."
"And yet I am stuck with you lot."
Krex seemed like the type of person that would kill you simply for messing up his food order at an Inn or not running his bath at the right temperature. The old man had wrinkles all over his face, his hair was all but gone and his skin was dark and tanned, the years had not been kind to him but Krex was still strong, stronger than he looked.
"Enough chit chat, were here to kill people so let's get this over with, I got a sweet roll waiting for me back at the sanctuary."
The vampire child stepped forward.
"Yes I believe we have wasted enough time. Now I assume that you all remember your specified tasks? Archers are to take the two towers at the front gate while rest of us will circle the city."
The vampire now turned her attention towards the Khajiit.
"Except you Do'Varsheer you will remain at the gate to ensure that no one escapes, understood?"
"Understood Speaker."
Tharic could tell in the voice of the Khajiit that he was unhappy about being posted at the gate, clearing hoping to be in the thick of the chaos.
"Once the town centre has been cleared all of us will make are way to the Jarl's palace. Hmm… it's a lot bigger than I remember, it certainly wasn't three stories high, hundred years ago or so."
The vampire child seemed to be lost in memory, clearly remembering a time of Falkreath were it had been much smaller and the palace not nearly as grand as it was now.
"All the town guards will retreat to the palace to project the Jarl, be careful not to be overwhelmed."
Droath agreed with the vampire Speaker.
"Yes, the guards may not seem like much one at a time, but in a group than could destroy you, so watch each other's backs."
The group of assassins began to grow restless, some were just eager to start stabbing while others seemed to be generally nervous. They were assassins after all, not soldiers of fortune, not an army. The vampire signalled the assassins to take place and ready for the attack, Tharic could hardly believe that this was finally a reality, his hands started to sake; he had never been involved in the sacking of a town.
Never even heard of one.
"Tharic, you are to stay at Droath's side during the attack, try not to wander too far, as she is your best chance of survival."
Tharic followed Droath around the edges of the city but stopped at the back of the graveyard of Falkreath, he had no interest in obeying a vampire tonight. Tharic pulled his hood over his face and then waited. Tharic waited for a sign of the chaos to start any sign, a scream in the distance, the sounds of the guard's bell alarm, anything that would tell him that it was time to strike.
And then it happened, a building exploded in the distance, as fire and shrapnel flied everywhere Tharic positioned himself in the centre of the graveyard and closed his eyes. His hands glowing a shade of purple resembling that of despair, muttering an incantation under his breath, shards of energy were swirling all around him. He could feel the power building up inside, the spell was near completion.
The great power swelled within him, Tharic's nose and ears started to bleed. And with that, Tharic opened his eyes and magic exploded in every direction, penetrating the ground of the cemetery.
To be continued….