The next arrow struck a guest in the back. The people standing around her shrieked and ran as she fell forward.
"What's the trouble?" a guard shouted as he came running around the corner. An arrow pierced his neck and he fell.
"Cyréne, no!" Kalv yelled as she scrambled out of his arms.
She ducked low and started across the training yard. Kalv snatched a practice shield from the wall and fell in behind her, blocking them both, as she headed toward the injured woman. It was Olfina Gray-Mane. She was gasping for air as the poison from the arrow seeped into her body.
Cyréne flipped a table over and dragged Olfina behind it. "Hold on!" she whispered.
Kalv followed suit and peered out across the plains into the darkness. "Laas Yah Nir!" he whispered. A red glow of energy appeared in the darkness of the plains. "You're a dead man!" he shouted. He pulled the bow and arrows from the dead guard and began firing a volley of them in the direction of the glow.
The screams of the guests had alerted some of the other Companions to the danger.
"No!" Cyréne yelled as Farkas opened the door. An arrow whizzed past her and lodged itself in the door beside his head. His eyes flashed a dangerous gold.
Cyréne grabbed his hand and tugged him down. "Get the others. Go out the front and through the Underforge!"
Farkas nodded and made his way back inside.
Kalv was letting arrows fly as fast as he could draw.
"He's hit!" he said suddenly, "Two arrows, one to the shoulder and the other to the arm. He won't be doing anymore long-range damage."
He sprang from his position behind the table. "Lydia, let's go!" He was sprinting out into the night before Cyréne could say anything.
"I'm sorry," Cyréne whispered to Olfina, "This is going to hurt." She took a deep breath, got a solid grip on the arrow and pulled.
Olfina's scream of pain split the night. She fell forward into Cyréne's arms. Cyréne heard the scrape of the Underforge opening and moments later a chorus of howls echoed in the darkness.
Cyréne ripped the back of Olfina's dress and pushed frantic fingers into the wound.
"I'm so sorry," she said as Olfina screamed again, "I have to stop the poison."
She began drawing energy to her fingertips – cold to stop the poison from spreading. She pushed further into the wound as Olfina sobbed in her arms. Under the pressure of her fingers, black clots of sticky blood were being forced out. Olfina struggle against her and Cyréne's fingers slipped. Suddenly Jon Battleborn was by her side.
"Hold her still!" Cyréne ordered. "We don't have any time to lose. The more she moves the more the poison spreads."
Jon nodded and gripped Olfina's arms. She stopped her struggling as he whispered in her ear. Cyréne pressed into the wound again using a piece of Olfina's torn dress to wipe away the black clots.
"Can't you do something for the pain?" Jon growled.
"There's NO TIME!" Cyréne said again.
The blood seeping from the wound slowly turned from black to red, but not before Olfina was convulsing from the pain. Wiping her hands clean, Cyréne hovered them over Olfina's back and strong golden light flowed from her fingertips. The woman's tears began to subside as the wound knit itself closed and disappeared.
"By the eight!" Jon said. "Cyréne, how did you . . .?"
Cyréne slumped against the wall of Jorrvaskr, exhausted. Jon pulled a still shaking Olfina into his arms and stoked her hair soothingly.
"I'm so sorry, Olfina," Cyréne kept saying. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. There was no other way, please forgive me."
Olfina's voice was hoarse when she spoke. "You saved my life, Cyréne. I'll never forget that. Thank you!"
"Thank you," Jon echoed, pulling Olfina closer. "Fina, I thought I was going to lose you, Love." He kissed her forehead and took a shaky breath.
Cyréne felt her strength draining. She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.
"If either of you breathe a word of this," she said tiredly, "I'll tell your families about your secret." And then she passed out.
When she finally opened her eyes, Cyréne found herself in a dimly lit room. Someone was breathing rhythmically beside her and holding her hand. She sent up a silent flare of candle light and Vilkas woke from his light sleep in the chair beside his bed.
"Finally," he said, snatching his hand away.
"How long have I been out?"
"A couple of hours, you've had the old man worried sick – as if he needs something else on his mind."
Cyréne sat up slowly with her hand on her forehead trying to ward off the dizziness. It was then that she realized she was in Vilkas's room. Her eyes fell on a woman's undergarment on the floor and when she looked back at Vilkas she immediately saw the mouth-shaped bruise on his neck. Before she could stop herself, her hand came up and Vilkas felt a warm tingle of a spell as Cyréne erased the offending mark from his neck.
She got up quickly. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your evening," she said stiffly. "Forgive me if I don't want to be on this bed."
Vilkas crossed his arms and glared at her. "The bed isn't for bar-maids," he snapped, "the wall is."
"You are disgusting!"
He shrugged. "They haven't complained. And, I don't care what you think about it. What matters now is that you brought the Dark Brotherhood to our doorstep. What else have you done that someone wants you dead?"
She ignored him. "Where are the others?"
"They're still hunting."
Her eyes narrowed. "Last time I checked, Vilkas, whoever was shooting was trying to hit as many people as possible. Why are you blaming this on me?"
"I doubt someone would perform the Black Sacrament for a town guard and Olfina Gray-Mane. You on the other hand . . . given the events of the past few days, I'd say you're capable of anything."
"If you really think that, now would be a good time for you to shut your mouth. I'm going to see Kodlak."
She was about to knock on the Harbinger's door, when there was a commotion at the end of the hall. Kalv came striding in with Lydia on his heels. He wrapped Cyréne to him in an embrace.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly. "Did you find anything?"
"Yes, I found the bloody remains of an assassin and a copy of his orders."
Cyréne tried to look surprised. "What did the orders say?"
"That there was rumored to be a celebration going on in Whiterun tonight and he should scope out the party for easy targets or important guests."
"So, there was no specific target?"
"Not that I can see."
"Is that even how the brotherhood is supposed to work? They're just going on killing sprees now?"
"I don't know," Kalv admitted, "but you're safe, and that's all I care about."
Cyréne let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I'm glad you're alright. I think I've had enough excitement for one night."
"Come home with me."
Nothing sounded better than doing exactly that, but Cyréne shook her head. "I need to be here when the others get back, and I need to tell the Harbinger what you discovered. I'll see you tomorrow, though, before I leave."
For the first time, Kalv noticed Vilkas standing with his arms crossed in the shadows. He glared at him.
"You'll be alright here until they get back?"
Cyréne gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Kodlak is here and I'm going to talk to him right now. Go get some rest, please."
"Alright," he said finally. He shot Vilkas another dirty look and kissed Cyréne softly. "Sleep well, sweetheart. I'll see you in the morning."
Cyréne embrace Lydia and then they were gone. She rapped lightly on Kodlak's door and then entered.
"I heard," Kodlak said. "It is better news than if there was a contract out on someone, but still disturbing."
Cyréne nodded and stifled a yawn.
"Go to bed, child. You have a long journey tomorrow. I'll find out what the others know and we can discuss it before you leave."
Cyréne was too tired to protest, so she simply nodded and headed to the sleeping quarters. She was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Down the hall, Vilkas stared at the ceiling above his bed and waited for sleep that would not come.
In a hidden sanctuary, behind a black door, in the pine forest just west of Falkreath a brown haired Imperial was fuming. "That new recruit nearly got me killed!" she yelled.
"Calm yourself, Sister," Veezara said, putting a hand on her arm.
As she always did, Shaye relaxed under his touch. "I just don't understand why it's so hard to recruit people who follow the rules. They get a little taste of power and they start fighting authority.
"Well, he's dead now!" Arnbjorn cut in.
"Don't you see how ridiculous that makes us look," Shaye insisted. "A botched assassination, and a dead assassin, and this wasn't even a real job. It was just supposed to be scouting."
"Well, what do you suggest?" Astrid said, walking into the main area.
Shaye paled slightly, but spoke her mind. "What I suggest, is what I've been suggesting since I got here. We pick a high profile target, but one that's not too difficult to kill. We should make it someone that most people in Skyrim don't really care about, but who is notable enough to draw attention, and we should assassinate them. That way our name is back in the forefront and more jobs will roll in, possibly some big ones."
Astrid blew out a breath. "And where will we secure the resources for such a project?"
Shaye shrugged. "I'll do it. I can do some recon while I fulfill some smaller contracts. I have a few hunches I want to check out."
"Such as," Astrid queried.
"Well, I owe that bitch Vittoria Vici—"
Astrid raised an eyebrow. "The emperor's cousin? I think not. Put your personal vendettas aside for now, Sister."
Shaye grimaced. "Fine. I hear the College of Winterhold named a new Arch-Mage a while back. Most Nords hate mages, and from what I hear she's not around that much anyway. She might be a good target."
"Perhaps," Astrid conceded. "Who else?"
"I hear bad things about the woman that runs the orphanage in Riften and there are all manner of people in Markarth who could use running through."
Astrid tapped a finger to her lips for a moment before making her decision.
"The Arch-Mage intrigues me. Do your reconnaissance and report back, but don't make any moves until you've cleared it with me. Take your time with this Shaye. If you manage to pull it off correctly, we could be on our way back to the top, but if there's another screw up like the one last night . . . I won't be happy."
"Of course, Astrid," Shaye said with a smile. "I'll make you proud."
"I know you will. It's your only option."