Chapter Thirty-Nine:

The Pale Pass

I woke up late in the following evening. My ears were ringing, although it wasn't painful. My head, however, was throbbing in pain to make up for it. My eyes hurt to open, but I couldn't make out anything anyhow; everything was blurry to me. But the sounds came through. I heard the rhythmic, heavy march of soldiers in their armour, and the sounds of horses whinnying as they followed the lead of their masters'. I recognized the sound from when the Count would leave Castle Anvil and parade through the city's streets, flaunting his "importance".

The previous night's events eventually came back to me, and worry for my companions settled uncomfortably in my stomach. They'd all been wounded in the attack... Were any still living? Those questions I couldn't answer, nor ask of the Thalmor that had captured me. "The Blades agent"... The Thalmor were still after me, despite how we'd thwarted them back in the Ratway.

And something told me that Arnand Bienne wouldn't be far off.

"Is the agent still alive?"

I heard a pause. Probably a Thalmor checking up on me. If my limbs weren't screaming in pain even without having to move, I'd definitely try to hurt them. "Yes sir," came the reply. "We just damaged the goods a little bit."

The Thalmor wizard laughed. "That hardly matters. It is not as if she would not have been damaged later. Besides, I doubt we would be punished at all for teaching that Imperial some respect to the Thalmor."

The soldier murmured an agreement, but silenced himself afterwards. My eyes, heavy with bruising, refused to open as exhaustion claimed me and I fell asleep once more.

So, the next time I woke up, we were still on the move. The parts of the sky that weren't terribly blurry looked the same as before, but then I mentally smacked myself for thinking the stars would change position in however long I was unconscious.

I became aware of the cloth tied around my mouth until I was literally biting on it. After sending the Thalmor a few feet away with a Shout, they were obviously taking precautions. My hands were bound as well, but my feet weren't. I doubted I could make a run for it though, since I could still feel that crossbow bolt (painfully) stuck in my leg.

"Damn!" the wizard cursed as a horse whinnied loudly. Probably his. "They really did block off this route!"

"What now, sir?" one of the soldiers asked. "The next route out of Skyrim is in Falkreath, or the Rift! But even there it's treacherous! The Pale Pass was the only clear way for years!"

"I know that!" the Thalmor snapped. He paused to consider his options. "We can't head to Riften. If the agent's followers aren't already dead, they'll either have sent for help or be after us. Falkreath would be too conspicuous, if so..."

"What about Fort Pale Pass?"

"Fort Pale Pass?" another soldier repeated. "That one used in the first era?!"

"It could already be a decrepit shamble for what we know," the wizard replied, "but I heard that the Draconian Madstone was recovered for a countess a while back. And the Madstone had been guarded by the ghosts of Akaviri soldiers awaiting their orders..." He stopped himself again. "We'll chance it. Since the Pale Pass is blocked off, the fort must be around here in the mountains. They wouldn't give it such a moniker if it wasn't close to this place."

"And the wagon, sir?"

"Leave it. Carry the agent, but don't let her near your weapons. While she won't have the strength, it wouldn't hurt to take precautions. We march!"

Well, I conveniently fell asleep again. In the early hours of the morning, I awoke again, and realized that we'd arrived at the ages-old fort. I didn't think I'd ever seen stone walls so... crumbly and old. There wasn't much to look at, really.

Using whatever strength I could muster, I lifted my head from the stone slab I was (obviously) tied to. The bolt had been removed from my leg, and the wound had been cleaned and bandaged. I could feel the cold sting of salve on my face and body from the bruises inflicted earlier. Perhaps they wanted me in good enough health that I'd tell them where the Blades were? Or maybe Bienne just wanted to inflict them again himself so he could try to finish what he'd started months ago in Cyrodiil?

A door opened to my right as my head lowered to the stone slab. Slow, soft footsteps crossed the stones to where I was. I felt a hand on my leg to inspect the wound. When I peeled my eyes open, I could make out the features of a High Elf. He noticed my eyes on him.

"Good to see you're awake now," the Altmer rasped in an old and weary voice. "I was worried when you didn't awaken the first two days."

Days? I thought. How long have I been asleep...?

"W-Worried...?" I muttered painfully.

He smiled thinly, humourlessly. "I am a prisoner here, as you are. Had you died, my own life would have been forfeit, and I would never have a chance to return to my daughter."

"Thal... mor...?"

Shaking his head, the Altmer replied, "No. They are currently in a meeting with a Breton. Arguing over you, actually. What did you do to incite such madness?"

"... Party..."

"Oh? The guest at the embassy I heard of was you? Well, no wonder why you've become so popular then." The High Elf grinned. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Sventius Arus, alchemist of Cheydinhal, although I do find myself in Skyrim more often than not."

Sventius Arus... I've heard that name before...

"You'll need a few more days to rest up," Sventius explained. "You should be able to speak normally by tomorrow. But your limbs will still hurt to Oblivion and back until you're fully healed, so take your time. As an added incentive, making the Thalmor wait will give your friends a better chance of finding and freeing you, yes?"

I knew then and there that I needed the Altmer to get out of Fort Pale Pass. Even if the others managed to track us to the fort, the Thalmor had better positioning and likely already knew the layout of the place. The others would need to get creative if they were to assault a fort by themselves.

But perhaps we—Sventius and I—could cause a distraction from the inside...?

I passed the rest of the hours of the day by sleeping. When I next woke up, it was noon of (what I hoped was) the next day. My bruises and my leg felt better, but I definitely wasn't fully healed.

Taking a few deep breaths, I worked to sit up and have my legs dangle over the stone slab. That done, I regretted it. My entire body was sore and I was swaying forward dangerously. Rather than smash my face unintentionally against the floor, I laid back down and tried to get my bearings.

I knew about Fort Pale Pass. It had been constructed, or at least inhabited, by the Akaviri during Reman Cyrodiil's time in the first era. At the end of the third era, it was rediscovered in order to retrieve the Draconian Madstone for the Countess of Bruma. Some said that the Hero of Kvatch had done it, but no one was really sure due to his fame at the time. Still, the fort was several hundred years old, if not older. I was surprised it hadn't crumbled into a pile of stone already.

I heard a heavy wooden door creak open to my right so I looked in that direction, grateful that my neck wasn't in pain like the rest of my body. Sventius Arus, now much clearer to me, entered the room while balancing a tray of bandages, potions and salves in his hands. He shut the door behind him by planting a foot against it, but I did spot the few elven armour-clad soldiers peeking into the room after them. The sight of them made my blood boil. They knew to keep their distance since I'd already thrown them around with my voice once. If Sventius got in the way, I wasn't sure I'd be able to use my Thu'um.

"Better?" Sventius asked me as he placed the tray at the foot of the stone slab.

I nodded slowly so as not to aggravate my head. "Better."

"Good to hear." Now that everything was clearer, I could properly examine the High Elf. Like his voice had eluded, he was up in his years. His hair, probably once as pale as most Altmer, had dulled into white. He was very slowly growing a beard on his yellowed chin, but I guessed it wasn't quite a willing one. He was probably denied weapons of any sort, if he was a prisoner as well. His robes were a very simple blue that were stained at his front with the dust he had ground up for his potions, but his yellow eyes never wavered there. He must have been used to such things.

"What are you in for, Arus?" I asked the Altmer.

He smiled, deepening his wrinkles. "I called Elenwen a pompous ass. The young have no respect for the old these days..."

"And what brought that on?"

"She insulted my knowledge of alchemy and then demanded I craft a potion that would have her prisoners speak the truth," he explained. "I refused, so she had me escorted to a holding chamber. And then the Thalmor found you, wounded you, so I was to heal you."

I eyed the Altmer. "In exchange for what? Your freedom?"

"The freedom of my daughter," he answered blatantly.

My eyes returned to the stone roof above me. "Oh."

Sventius began to untie the bandages around my calf that were wet with blood. "If there's one thing I've learned over my years, girl," he said quietly, "it's that we are unsuccessful in fighting for our freedoms. The freedoms of others, however, are much harder to fight for, but easier to accomplish."

"That doesn't make sense," I admitted.

"Give it time," he encouraged me. "After all, there's a Civil War going on, yes? You're living in the meaning."

I took in a few deep breaths as Sventius made a tutting sound with his tongue. I knew it well; that was the sound the nobles in Anvil used to make when they spotted a dirty orphan.

"What?" I prompted.

The mer came around and helped my front up gently so I could see. When he was certain I wasn't going to topple over and received confirmation that I wasn't dizzy, he went back to my wounded leg and pointed at it.

"While I'm ecstatic that it's been healing so fast, I'm afraid a bit of an operation is in order," he told me, gesturing to the hole. "There are bits of the bolt's shaft in your leg. It will cause you pain if you leave it and it heals over, but it will be extra painful to remove it."

"Do it."

Sventius looked taken aback. "W-What?!"

"Seriously. Now."

He took a moment to recompose himself. "Then I'll use this salve here to numb the skin there..." Working quickly, the Altmer rubbed said salve onto my leg. "It'll take a few minutes, and the numbing won't go all the way through. Do you need something to channel the pain into? A pillow, perhaps?"

I sighed and shook my head. As much as I really, really, really wanted a pillow, I didn't want to appear weak to the Thalmor, or to Sventius.

I need to stop trusting people so easily, I reminded myself. It's how I got in this mess in the first place. Sventius could be a Thalmor agent feeding me a sob-story for all I know. I'd be more inclined to believe him if he were a Khajiit or an Orc...

"You've got an odd name for an Altmer," I muttered, glancing at Sventius again.

"I was adopted when I was young and renamed," the elf admitted. "An Imperial family took me in, so I took on the name they wished to give me. It confuses others of my kind. And Imperials."

"I've heard your name mentioned before."

Sventius grinned. "Probably from one of my clients. I'm an alchemist, you see. I can create very distinctive potions that help in a variety of ways, but I can do more than just a simple health potion and stamina potion. I prefer something that challenges me."

Alchemist... Clients... My eyes widened a bit. "Did you know Kodlak Whitemane?"

"Yes," he answered plainly. "Kodlak was a good man and a trusted friend. I was sad to hear of his passing, but I've met the one who is taking his place. I am glad to know that the Companions will still have a worthy Harbinger."

"Kodlak told me about you once. The last time I went to visit." I remember! He made that potion-thing!

"I figured. Kodlak sent me a letter before he died. Dare I assume you are the person he detailed?" He smirked at me. "Because Kodlak claimed that person was extremely likely to be his child. 'Taryn Greystone'. Of course, he immediately requested more of my special brew that I created for his Circle."

I froze, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. But Sventius merely smiled and began his procedure on my leg. The deeper his tweezers dug, the less his numbing salve affected my leg and the more it hurt.

"His Circle can heal quickly too. You're lucky that you didn't heal over that bolt," Sventius remarked. "It'd hurt a lot more than these little things, I'll tell you that!"

I sat there for another several minutes, Sventius with a smirk on his face, and then sighed while I crossed my arms. "Why don't you just come out and say it, then? You know. I know you know. And you know I know you know."

The Altmer seemed highly entertained. "I thought I'd rather not mention it. After all, it must have come as quite the shock to you, yes? Not like with the Companions." Sventius placed his tweezers in the bowl of bloody water he'd brought in and wrapped my leg in a bandage. "I mean, with the Companions, to become one of the Circle, one accepts the gift the Glenmoril Witches granted them through Hircine. You had no choice in the matter whatsoever. I can tell. Your eyes aren't silver like the Companions'."

I pursed my lips. Just how much did the Altmer know about the Companions? Or Werewolves in general?

"But if you want it to go away..." Sventius caught my attention. "Well, I think I heard rumours that one of the Glenmoril Coven is still around and not in the form of one of those hagravens. If anyone knows about Hircine's little 'gift', it would be her."

"Where?!"

Sventius smirked at my outburst. "I haven't got a clue. She was holed up in a small cottage called Drakelowe back in the third era. She's a Breton, so she should have died by now, but she's also a witch. Who knows what she's capable of?" Sventius must have caught my look of disappointment. "But if I were you, I'd try Solstheim. There are strange energies gathering there nowadays. I wouldn't be surprised if Melisande was attracted to it." Sventius grinned and patted my wounded leg gently. "But first you'll need to escape if you want to seek this witch out. And I have a plan."