Chapter XIII

Darkness was all around him. It blanketed him, felt as though it was pressing against his eyes, the deafening silence forcing its way into his ears. A sickening feeling of vertigo struck him, as if he were in a constant fall, spiralling out of control.

In the distance, he saw flashes of someone. He didn't recognize them, or at least he didn't think he did.

Slowly the darkness began to give way to an image. All around him, sky, sand and sea coalesced into an image so real, that he thought he could feel the breeze, and smell the salt of the sea. He could even hear the seagulls as they flew overhead in the sky.

The Nord began to walk forwards on the beach. The sand felt warm beneath his feet, the breeze felt soft and cooling against his skin. He looked down to see he was dressed in a brown tunic and burlap pants. His feet were bare, allowing the sand to move freely in between his toes.

He turned his gaze back up, to see an old man with grey hair ahead of him, standing on the shore-side, looking across at a large ship sat in an Imperial style dry-dock.

Rontag began to move slowly towards the stranger, wondering who he was, and why he himself was here, in this most foreign place. As he approached, the old man turned to him with a wide smile. He was a Cyrodilic man, who looked to be near the end of his life.

"Who are you?" Rontag asked him, continuing to move steadily onward..

The old man's thick eyebrows raised in surprise. "You are speaking to me?"

Rontag halted, confused by his reaction. "You're the only one here," he pointed out. "And I was looking right at you when I said it."

"I suppose I am the only soul here," the old man agreed. "Though my visions have never spoken directly to me before."

"What do you mean?" Rontag questioned. "Your visions? What visions?"

"My dreams of you, your wife and Magoza. Of Taemwyn, and the Khajiit that is looking for her."

"A Khajiit is looking for the elf?"

"She's in Winterhold right now," the old man revealed.

"Why?" Rontag asked with concern. If someone was looking for Tam, then there was a chance his wife might be in danger.

"She was contracted to kill her."

"What!?" Rontag blurted out.

"However, she has decided against it," the old man said.

"Contracted, by who?" the Nord demanded.

"The Thalmor."

That wasn't something he had wanted to hear. Not at all. "They know we're in Winterhold?" he questioned.

"Of course," the man said as if it was obvious. "But they are only interested in the elf right now. Before long however, if not already, the Khajiit and her new friend will also be within the sights of their foul gaze."

"What else do your 'dreams' tell you?"

"I feel that I cannot say much more. Just know that Meratur, Magoza's father will be in danger soon, regarding the Vigilants of Stendarr."

"Why?"

"Because of the General."

"What General?" Rontag asked, feeling confused.

"I do not know yet, my visions are not always clear."

"You aren't making sense," Rontag said, feeling frustrated.

The old man smiled softly. "Perhaps not, but know this also. Magoza is alive."

The world around Rontag suddenly began to spiral back into darkness. Whether it was because of the sudden shock of what the old man had said, or something else entirely, he had no clue. All he knew was that everything was once again fading away.

The old man raised his tired voice, breaking though the darkness that enclosed the Nord. "You must seek Malthar in Jehanna!"

"What!?" Rontag shouted back, his voice echoing in the dark. "Does this Malthar know where the Orc girl is?"

"Go to Jehanna and find Malthar!"


Rontag's eyes snapped open to a painful headache, and a weak body. He looked down at his left hand to find another in it. He turned to see his wife, Valerie slumped in a chair by his bedside, her breathing steady as she dozed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat parched and the words failed to emerge. He began coughing violently, his wife awaking with a start.

"Rontag!?" she yelled.

His coughing quickly died down. He looked up at her face, her features filled with deep concern and worry. She squeezed his hand in hers.

"I'm alright," he wheezed. "Just a little dry."

"Dry?" she asked, seemingly confused.

"I need some water or something," he clarified. "I'm thirsty."

Valerie shook her head quickly, breaking out of whatever trance she had been in. "Water, of course." She turned her head and shouted. "Tam, are you through there!? I need water, Rontag's awake!"

Moments later, Tam stepped beside him with a wooden beaker, filled with some kind of strange liquid, which she promptly passed to Valerie.

"What is it?" Valerie asked.

"Something that will quench his thirst, and help bring back his strength," Tam responded. "At least some of it."

Valerie helped Rontag into a sitting position, before bringing the liquid to his mouth. He raised his hand to try to take the beaker off her, but she shook her head. He lowered his hand and allowed her to feed it to him, taking a small sip.

He began coughing once more. "That is wretched!" he exclaimed in disgust. "What is it?"

"A potion," Tam told him. "Something that Jo'Agro made up for you."

"The Khajiit mage?" Rontag asked. "I don't want anything from-" He stopped himself from saying any more, deciding not to be confrontational barely a few moments after waking.

"It's not poison," Tam said, trying to ease his misgivings.

Rontag took the beaker off his wife and took another sip. His face creasing with revulsion, yet he did not spit it out.

"I guess he believes you," Valerie said with a smile.

"There's a Khajiit in the city," Rontag said to Tam suddenly, after taking another sip.

"I know, he constructed this potion," Tam said, misunderstanding.

"No, I mean another Khajiit. She is looking for you."

Tam's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I saw it in my dream. The Thalmor."

"That's not funny!" Tam snapped.

Valerie raised her hands up to the Altmer in a disarming manner. "Please Tam, he's only just woken up, he might have been dreaming."

"I'm not joking, and it was more than a dream!" Rontag said adamantly, before he began to cough again. Valerie took the beaker away from him before he spilled it, allowing him to sip some more once he had calmed down. Rontag then continued. "An Imperial spoke to me. He told me that she was to kill you, but changed her mind. He said to meet a man named something, in Jehanna. I cannot remember his name, it's fading away so fast."

Tam folded her arms. "You saw this in a dream?" she asked sceptically.

"Yes I did," he confirmed, before looking at Valerie. "He said." Rontag shook his head and looked down. "He said that Magoza was still alive."

Valerie's jaw went slack. "What?" she asked in shock.

"That's not funny," Tam warned him.

He glared at her. "Go into the city. Find the Khajiit that seeks you."

Valerie looked across at the Altmer, her mouth agape, before turning back to her husband. The two women stared at him for a few moments in silence.

Tam shrugged. "I guess I'll go check it out." The Altmer promptly turned to leave. As she got to the doorway, she paused. "Glad you're awake."


Rasha had awoken that morning to find that Faldan had gone for a walk. She waited till he returned, and when he did he told her that he hadn't so much seen any sign of Tam whatsoever.

It was then decided that after they had eaten, they would both go to the college, and inquire there. Due to the fact that her goal was no longer killing the Altmer, she could be far more direct in her approach.

The Ohmes-Raht still wondered how much she should reveal to Taemwyn when they finally found her, and how much she should keep hidden. She guessed that telling Tam that she had been contracted to murder her, wouldn't be a good thing to tell the Altmer upon their first meeting. Instead she would have to be vague, she would have to think of some way to reach out to her, without her becoming suspicious.

They were both sat at one of the old wooden tables, their backs to the fire, eating some nice hot stew, when the front door opened, letting some cold air in.

Rasha casually looked around seeing an impossibly tall Altmer woman stood at the entrance. The newcomer's eyes locked onto hers, and her eyes widened just a little. It was obviously the Thalmor's intended target, and she seemed to know that something was wrong.

The tall Altmer began to slowly walk over to her cautiously. It seemed she was unaware that Faldan was sat right beside the Khajiit. That didn't last long however. Tam's eyes drifted to the now shaking mer, and her mouth went slack.

"Faldan?" she asked.

"She's going to kill me!" Faldan whispered with shaky breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him before looking back to Rasha. The Altmer pointed. "Rontag said you'd be here, and that you were looking for me."

The Khajiit's blood ran cold. Someone had known they were looking for her? But how? She hadn't told anyone, and she seriously doubted that Faldan had.

"He told me that you were hired by the Thalmor!" she accused.

"We're dead!" Faldan whimpered.

Tam glared at him. "What do you mean!?" she asked, anger rising in her voice.

The Bosmer began to slide himself along the bench, further away from the approaching Altmer.

"What do you mean!?" she repeated. "She was sent by the Thalmor," Tam said, gesturing at Rasha. "Why are you here!?"

"I-" Faldan stammered, his lips unable to form words.

"You can't have!?" Tam almost yelled, as realization dawned on her. "No, Faldan! It couldn't have been you!?"

The Nord woman behind the bar shouted over to them. "Mind keeping it down!?"

Tam ignored her. "Tell me you weren't behind what happened at the mine?"

Rasha rose up from the bench, placing herself between the angry elf and Faldan.

The Altmer glared at her. "Get outta my way!"

"I'm here to warn you," the Khajiit told her, trying desperately to draw her attention away from Faldan. "The Thalmor know you're here."

"And what about him?"

"I was meant to kill him also, but things changed."

"Why were you to kill him?"

"So he didn't let slip his role in the destruction of your village."

Faldan let out a loud whimper, while Tam's face creased up with fury. Rasha felt herself tense up. She wondered if the Altmer was capable of tearing her in half. She looked like she could, given her size.

"Think carefully," Rasha said to her. "Think about your actions."

"I know how to control myself!" Tam uttered loudly. "I was trained to control myself!"

"What do you mean?" Rasha asked her.

"Don't play stupid!" Tam spat. "Why else would they chase me!?"

"I have no idea, they wouldn't tell me."

"I was a Blade!" Tam yelled.

Suddenly everything fell into place. Rasha finally understood why the Thalmor wanted her dead. She was a member of the Blades, an organization that was known for their honour and integrity, and for their important role in the Great War. After the war had ended, their order had also come to an end by the decree of the White Gold Concordat. The surviving members found themselves on the run as the Thalmor hunted them mercilessly through the continent.

"That's why," Rasha said. "All of that death though, just for you?"

Tam clenched her jaw. "All that death for me," she repeated. "Because I'm a Blade. Or was rather."

"Five years on, and they're still trying to get all of you?" Rasha asked.

The Altmer turned her attention back to Faldan, ignoring Rasha. "Was it you?" she asked him. "Why do it?"

Faldan didn't respond. He cowered further behind the Khajiit, hiding himself completely from Tam's view.

"Answer me!?" she yelled.

"Hey!" the barkeep shouted over. "Take your argument outside. Tables are hard to replace out here."

Tam turned and glared at her, before looking back at the two of them. "Follow me," she told them.

Rasha gripped Faldan's arm and whispered to him. "I'll keep her from murdering you."

They followed the tall Altmer out into the cold, where she immediately turned back to them, pointing her finger at Faldan. He whimpered again, gripping onto Rasha's arms tightly, as he cowered behind her once again.

"Why!?" Tam yelled at him. "What did they offer you!?"

"I didn't know," he whimpered.

"Didn't know what!?" Tam shouted.

"I thought they just wanted you, I didn't know they were going to kill everyone."

"But why?"

"I was outlawed from the Dominion. They said I would be allowed to return to Valenwood, to my family and friends if I helped flush you out. They sent me to various villages and towns looking for you. I found you in Minestead."

"And for your service they tried to kill you?" Tam asked him.

"Yes."

Tam shook her head, clenching her jaw hard. "May Oblivion take you, you bastard!" she uttered, barely able to hold in her fury. "And you told the Imperials it was me?"

"It was part of their plan if you managed to get away again."

"They're all dead because of you!" she shouted at him.

"I know," he sobbed.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you!?"

"Because I won't let you," Rasha told her firmly. "He made a mistake, he has to live with it."

"Does he even care though?" Tam said accusingly. "Did he give a damn about those that were murdered in cold blood?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I regret it."

"Why? Because the Thalmor turned on you?" Tam said turning away from them. She looked up the street towards the college. It stood tall on the rocky island that jutted out high above the the water.

"Will you try and kill him?" Rasha asked her.

Tam took in a deep breath. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill both of you?" she asked, her voice oddly calm.

"Because I'm here to help you," Rasha responded with equal repose.

"How? By telling me that Faldan destroyed the place I had started to call home? Out of everywhere I had been, Minestead was where I had dwelt the longest, where I had finally started to feel safe, to feel secure."

"I'm sorry, Tam," he said.

"Just a question," Tam began folding her arms, turning her gaze back upon the Bosmer, who remained hidden behind the Khajiit. "Answer me this Faldan. If they had kept their end of the bargain, and you were now at home in Valenwood, would you have any regrets?"

"I would still hate the fact that people had died because of me? yes," he answered.

"Stand before me you bastard!" the Altmer yelled at him. "Stop hiding, and look me in the eye!"

Faldan cowered, gripping Rasha's arms even tighter.

"I said face me, or I swear to the Nine that I will kill you!"

"Faldan," Rasha said softly. "Do as she says. Look her in the eye, and tell her what she wants to hear."

"I can't," he said back. "I don't want to."

Tam turned and began to walk away. "Didn't think so, coward."

"What will you do?" Rasha called after her. "They know you're here."

"I'll do what I always do. I find somewhere else and survive."

"But what of us?"

Tam halted and turned around "What do you mean?"

"I've actively gone against my contract, and Faldan is wanted dead by them."

The Altmer shrugged. "And? I don't care about what happens to the two of you. I don't know you, and Faldan can die in a hole for all I care."

"You need allies," Rasha pointed out. "Don't turn them away."

"I have allies. They're sat in that college," she said pointing. "Two people who I respect greatly, even if one of them doesn't seem to respect me as much as the other. But I can't be the one that destroys their lives, not this time, not any more."

Rasha looked back at the inn. "If you change your mind-"

"Don't start with that!" Tam said angrily. "You can stay in that inn all you want. I'm going to say goodbye to my friends and I'm leaving. People can't be around me, because I put them in danger."

"It was my fault," Faldan said moving from behind Rasha. He looked at Tam, but still couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. "It was my fault!" he repeated.

"No!" the Altmer said back. "It was the Thalmor's." With that, she turned and left them, standing by the inn as snow began to slowly flutter from the sky.


Magoza sat at the table staring at the flickering candles, as she had done for the past few hours. Hides-In-Trees and his brother, who she had learned was called Licks-Many-Snouts, (a name she wasn't sure she wanted to know the origins of) had gone over the plan several times. Unfortunately, the plan was heavily flawed and they all knew it. Without knowing numbers of guards or how armed and armoured they were, it would be almost impossible to come up with anything definitive.

Hides had left the house some point after their last review of the plan, around a half hour ago. As to why he had left, she didn't know. It appeared as though he went to do something. Whatever it was, she'd just have to wait till he returned to find out.

She sighed loudly, causing the candle in the middle of the table to flicker wildly beneath her breath.

"How do you not fall over?" Snouts asked her.

She looked over at him confused by his odd statement. "What?" she asked him.

"You have no tail, why do you not fall on face?"

"I don't know. Balance I suppose."

"But no tail to balance with," he said.

"I don't know, haven't really thought about it."

"Cannot think of what life would be without tail."

"I can't imagine what life would be like with one."

"Most strange, yes?"

"I suppose it is."

"How do you eat?" Snouts asked her.

"What?" she asked, unsure whether he was making fun of her tusks or not.

"You have small mouth."

"I don't eat anything too big."

"Less choking?" Snouts asked.

"Why do you say that?"

"Young ones need to be taught early not to eat too much. Big mouths and small throats can cause choking if food not chewed."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Not if food chewed fully."

Magoza looked around the room, before focusing her attention back onto the flickering candle. She looked up as Hides stepped into the room.

"Everything okay?" Hides asked them, placing down a freshly purchased quiver, that was full of arrows.

"All is well," Snouts responded. "Been out capturing more slaves?" he asked bitterly. There was clearly some animosity between them. A clear anger, and resentment that ran deep between them.

Hides ignored his brother's comment. "And you?" he asked the young Orc.

"Fine," Magoza said. "I just hate this waiting."

"Another full day and then we can free them," Hides said, trying to ease her worries.

"But what if they don't have that long?" she asked. "What if something happens to them before then?" It was a legitimate fear that something could easily happen to them before they were scheduled to be moved. Knowing that there was nothing she could do about it made her feel worthless.

"The three of us cannot take on Talen-Xil's home. It would be suicide," Hides told her. "Besides, Licks-Many-Snouts is not the best fighter. He can brawl, but not fight full on."

"I know, it's just that I fear for them."

"I know," Hides said.

"And I can't lose anyone else."

"Don't think bad thought," Snouts said to her. "Put bad things out of head."

"I'll try," she told them, unconvinced whether she actually could or not.

All she knew was that the next couple of days would be like torture for her. She couldn't help but wonder if the Karo's themselves, were actually being tortured literally. With a shudder, she tried to push it out of her mind. Focusing on the flickering candle, trying to imagine that it was all that existed, and that nothing else mattered.

But she couldn't. All she saw in the flames were the faces of everyone she had lost. Her mother, the Wise Woman Dynak, and all her brothers and sisters there at the stronghold. She saw the face of Valerie, Tam and her real father Meratur, who she had left behind in Winterhold. She saw the Karo's, and images of them at their farm, working the half dead fields.

Finally, she saw her own mortality. Her place in the world had been so certain. Her mother had always told her, that she and Meratur, would take her to see the grand college of Winterhold in Skyrim. Now it was nothing more than a fantasy. Her real future looked like it would consist of her being alone. Everyone she knew, every life she touched seemed to turn to ash beneath her grasp. She wondered what would happen to the two Argonians that were with her. Would their lives be turned to dust because of her as well?

Magoza felt as though she had been cursed. She didn't know how, why or whom, but she felt it. Perhaps it was punishment from Malacath, because she dared to dream beyond the walls of the stronghold, of the prison.


Darovin, Llandri and Brendarr, all stared at the new guard as he replaced the old one. So far today they hadn't been let out of their cage or fed. They had hoped that with a shift change, they would be brought food. To their dismay, the new guard had nothing on him, and their aching stomachs would simply have to endure.

Worse was the smell of their own excrement. They each went in a small bucket, which had not been taken away or emptied out at all since yesterday afternoon.

Brendarr looked over at his father, who shook his head.

"No, son," he whispered. "Don't say anything."

"I wasn't going to," Brendarr replied, his voice barely audible. "Not after yesterday." Memories of being stripped and being forced to stand where strangers could see him, had not only been demeaning, it had been one of the worst experiences of his life.

The Argonian guard kicked the side of the cage. "Quiet, you go sleep now."

Was it really that late? Was it really time to sleep again?

Darovin cleared his throat. "We have not been fed yet today," he told the guard, trying his best to keep his voice even, without emotion; despite the claustrophobia, fear and hatred that churned within him.

The guard seemed disinterested. "Fed tomorrow. Complain any more and you won't be fed. Go to sleep now."

Darovin simply lay down on the floor, followed soon by the other two.

All that went through his mind as he closed his eyes were how they would get out of this. So far there had not been an opportunity to even attempt escape. When he saw a chance however, he would take it, knowing full well that it could all end badly.

He had no other choice than to try, and neither did his family. They had to escape, they needed to be free. There was no way he was going to spend the rest of his days, as a slave in a foreign land. He'd die before he let that happen.

Time was what he needed, but he felt that time was something they didn't have.

Updated 07/04/2014