Chapter 10: The Dark-hooded Assassin

Nightshade woke up at around six in the morning, groggy and tired from the night. She trudged to Ice's room to wake him up and take the grooming supplies from his backpack. She nudged him, where he groaned and pulled the covers further over his head. She gave up after that, and took a comb, a pair of scissors, some soap, a mirror, and a towel. She believed in good hygiene.

She went back into her room and combed her hair, which needed washing again. She thought about how she was going to cut it. She simply took the scissors and started to clip away. The vibrant red hair fell near her knees as she snipped away, and soon she was left with short hair with uneven ends, just like she liked it, and was between her shoulder-blades and head. She grinned at herself, satisfied with the results, and swooshed it around, all the layers flying through the air in a whip-lash motion. She washed her face with dry soap and went back into Ice's room where he was asleep under the thin covers.

"Ice, get up or I'll cut your hair in bed."

He snorted, and then slowly rolled off and landed on the floor. She helped him up, and started to snip at his hair. After a while, he started to awake and make comments on what she was doing. In the end, his black hair was no longer frizzy, flipped inward, and to his shoulders with thin bangs on either side of his face. Instead, it was uneven, like hers, and shorter, and the bangs were bushy and full. He at first scowled at himself, making odd noises, and then nodded. "I guess it's not bad."

They got dressed (Nightshade wasn't going to wear armor to bed) and went into the main room, glittery and shiny like new horse shoes. Crow was already waiting. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and weakly smiled. "Nice haircuts, but I think you'll need more than that if you're fugitives."

"It's just so we won't look suspicious," Nightshade took a loaf of bread when she saw the woman at the counter not looking. Ice stole a piece of cheese and two bottles of wine in one swift motion.

Crow, too tired to argue, shrugged and started walking out. The other two, munching on their prizes, decided to go to the Mages Guild to see Deetsan while Crow would wait for them outside. The Argonian agreed to send a recommendation as soon as she wrote one and would send it. They left, Ice beaming and glowing with pride. He gloated to her about his other recommendations where she was only half listening. As the trio, now reunited outside the city gate, started on their journey to the Imperial City, Ice continued his long stories, not even out of breath, and the other two wished he would just shut up.

"…so, when I entered the cave, there were, like, five zombies coming after me. I wasn't even scared because I knew what to do with them—"

"Does he usually talk this much?" Crow had his hood up despite the sunny day so his eyes were covered in shadow. Nightshade shrugged. "Of what I've seen from him, I think so."

"How long have you two known each other?" he looked at the younger dunmer, who was now talking to himself.

"A few days. He's the reason I'm in this mess."

"What mess?"

That was right. Crow didn't know a thing about the Amulet of Kings, the Mythic Dawn, the Exploding Stone, as Ice had dubbed it. She wasn't sure if they could trust him yet; her instincts were still against him. When she didn't answer, Crow switched the question, but a look of worry was on his face.

"So, why are you going to the Imperial City?"

"Hey, is anyone even listening?" Ice had his hands to his hips, angry and pouting. "I'm trying to entertain you people and you don't care?"

"No offense, Ice, but boasting isn't very entertaining, especially when no one wanted to know in the first place," Nightshade's face was that of pure, utter disinterest. Steaming, he folded his arms and turned to look at the road ahead, muttering things under his breath.

"Sorry, Crow, what did you say?"

"Why are you going to the Imperial City?"

She looked at the ground. "We're going to the Arcane University."

"Why are you guys trying to disguise yourselves?"

She kicked at the cobblestones under their feet while she walked. "It's a—long story."

Surprising enough, he didn't enquire any further, but stared ahead. She looked at him. How old was he? Thirty? Maybe in his late twenties? He looked stern, and yet, in some weird way, alone. He was different that Owyn, who was always yelling at her. They must've been the same age.

"Crow, why are you in Cyrodiil?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. I've been here before, but not for very long."

"What's it like, in Morrowind? Is it better or worse?"

"Than what?" he laughed that same, soft laugh. "I guess Cyrodiil is more civilized, in a way, but Morrowind had character. Here it's basically four types of scenery: snow, grass, swamp, or water. In Morrowind, they had mountains that seemed impossible to climb, areas covered in ash and dirt, not to mention the grasslands and swamps, but it had places everywhere where there were villages with people that had been living there for generations. There were shrines of Dwemers and Daedra and forts that could teleport you to another place. But the prize of Morrowind that no country ever has is Red Mountain."

"Red Mountain?" Why did that sound vaguely familiar?

"Yeah. It was in the heart of the country, where red hot ash falls every day. It's not much of a tourist attraction, but every native must take a pilgrimage to be accepted. They say it was where the Corpus Disease came from, and where Dagoth Ur was killed at the summit."

He paused to stare off into space, and then looked at her confused face. "You don't know Morrowind's history, do you?"

Nightshade shook her head. He sighed, not that of annoyance but one of regret. "The Nerevarine, a prophet, survived a terrible disease known as the Corpus disease. It turns you into a zombie and kills you slowly and painfully. It is contagious and was incurable at the time, but the Nerevarine survived without the whole zombie thing. After that, he climbed to the summit of Red Mountain, now immune to the disease, and killed Dagoth Ur, the last Dagoth lord of the sixth house, and stopped Molag Bal from destroying the world."

"Are you the Nerevarine?"

He laughed, this time louder. Ice, who was silently listening in, turned around to glare at him.

"Me, the Nerevarine? That happened when I was… seven," he thought, and lightly smiled. "I'd be old if that was me. No, I guess you can say I didn't save Morrowind from a Daedric prince."

"You never know," Nightshade grinned. She noticed Crow was different than yesterday. He wasn't as open, or loud, and seemed more confined. Perhaps he was drunk yesterday, and that's why he was different. She looked at Ice and saw he refused to make eye contact, so the decision was hers again.

"Crow, the reason why we're going to the Arcane University…"

The stars aligned the sky with bright intensity over their small camp. They were covered by trees and had spent half an hour setting it up. Crow had made a fire while Nightshade and Ice bickered while putting up the tents. There were three now, and soon, Nightshade suspected, four when Elyon recovered. She wondered what she would think of Crow. She didn't tell him about her much; just that she was a Wood Elf, just in case.

"God, I'm starving," Ice sat on a rock next to the fire. The night was cold, and Nightshade had a blanket over her. Crow just sat there, practicing his spells. He wore nothing but a black robe. How could he not be cold?

They had found out Crow was a mage of Conjuration and Mysticism. He kept creating a dagger and amusing them by summoning scamps and skeletons. He seemed slightly surprised by their adventure, but creating things seemed to calm him. This slightly nerved Nightshade at first, but it wore off when the skeleton shook her hand clumsily. After that, he started to cast detect life spells and manipulative spells. He enjoyed bugging Ice with a rock by making it follow him, and then was joined by leaves and sticks, until behind Ice were a large ball of earth. Now, he was casting a spell that made him shine for a while. "I'm reflecting spells," he said.

Now, Crow was serving soup to the children Dark Elves, still shining with his dispel spell. They ate, in silence, too tired to speak. Ice went to bed, or into his sleeping bag, first, and Nightshade went. Crow was still sitting there, on silent vigil, when she slipped into unconsciousness.

Nightshade awoke, face sweaty, her black skin moist with the heat of her sleeping bag, which was warmer than the bed at the inn. She couldn't remember her dream—something about screaming and Conjuration tests—and crawled out of her small tent. There, Crow had left and was asleep in his tent, and the fire was reduced to small, glowing embers. She poked it with a stick, and then put in some more fuel. It worked, and in front of her was a small, yet warm, fire.

Toasty, she pulled up a blanket around her shoulders where her pajamas were some rather tattered-looking clothes. She noticed they were what she was wearing at the Bloodworks. She thought about Owyn and Isabel Andronicus and all those fighters. She didn't want to go back to scrubbing the floors and shining the armor with hardly a meal. If they found her, who knows what Owyn would do. After all, he wasn't about to pay someone to keep the blood there, and who would want to? Not even a beggar would for his meager pay. She was his property—the common slave—but to the guards and lawyers and rulers he was her guardian, and therefore making her a runaway. Runaways were never treated very well, and Owyn would certainly want her back. This was an adventure of a lifetime, to save the empire, and if Owyn found her, she'd be done for—

There was a sudden buzz past her ear. Alarmed, Nightshade saw an arrow land behind her on the ground, the tail pointed upward to the trees. She ducked, and if she hadn't another arrow would've hit her square in the forehead. She screamed, and then remembered her katana was back in her tent; she felt stupid for not taking it out with her. Crow, still in his robe, was quick to get up in a split second, barely muttering an incantation before a Daedric-style one-handed sword and a shield appeared in his hands. With amazing speed, he ran towards the tree, blocking several arrows. Someone jumped down from a tree and started to run at him with a long dagger glowing orange much like Nightshade's Akavari Sunderblade, but less intense. Crow clashed swords and the two started to fight in quick motions. Nightshade crawled to her tent and grabbed her sword.

He hadn't made much damage to the hooded attacker when Nightshade tried to attack. She failed and was blocked deftly. The attacker suddenly turned on Crow and sliced him in the side. He recoiled, his hand slapped into the wound to stop the bleeding. Anger flared through her, her grasp on the blade tightened and with tremendous strength slashed at the attacker, who dodged just barely. Ice had crawled out of his tent to help Crow and watched them.

The attacker suddenly turned and fled into the bushes, but Nightshade wouldn't rest. She ran after her, sword pointed down as she ran, the orange blade looking like it was on fire. She gritted her teeth and noticed fog was starting to slowly form. She stopped in a clearing, somehow sensing the presence. She could see the figure: girl-like, with thin thighs and slight curves. She attacked, her hood down, but was blocked by the katana. Nightshade could see her face—thin and bony, but yet attractive to any guy if she didn't seem so—dark. She was an Imperial with auburn hair, tinted slightly with red, even in the dark. Bangs fell to the side of her face with three lone strands hanging down her face. She then let go. "I'll get you next time," she hissed, and disappeared.

Ice came through the bushes and if he hadn't have grabbed her, she would've followed. She was breathing heavily and dropped her sword.

"Damn, that was scary," Ice said, cautiously letting her go. "What's that?"

A piece of paper was lying there. She unfolded it to read:

D. L.,

Your next target is a girl known only as Nightshade, last seen in Cheydinhal. Terminate her for 10,000 drakes.

Nightshade frowned. Ice muttered, "The Dark Brotherhood."

So they knew who she was now. No other information, just initials, her location, and the reward. Not why, not how, just that.

They walked back to Crow, who had healed using a potion. He watched them and Ice showed him the note. He shook his head. "Worse than the Morag Tong."

Nightshade was too tired to ask what that was, crawled back into her sleeping bag, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. She'd think about it tomorrow; all she knew was that that wasn't the last she'd be seeing of D.L.