Chapter 8:

They had abandoned the roads several hours ago, instead opting to ride through the wilderness. Passing by the glimmering white Ayleid ruins gave Beras the chills, so whenever one came up he turned in another direction. The Blades almost had to fight a group of bandits, but Aereth had the wits to order them all to outrun the scoundrels.

Beras could tell that they were getting close to the border of Elsweyr. It had begun to get warm, far warmer than Cloud Ruler Temple. The last time he had been somewhere with a temperature like this, he was living in a small house in Anvil. The thought of it made his eyes begin to water, but he rubbed them before any tears could form.

He saw a figure approach him from his left, and he looked over to see Bruda mocking him, pretending to cry. She then roared with savage laughter before being slapped in the back of the head by her sister. At the same moment, her horse passed over a bump, causing her to bite her tongue. Furious, she pushed ahead of the two of them.

Malia came closer to Beras, rolling her eyes. "Horrid, that one," she said, gesturing towards Bruda. "No appreciation for the emotions that make us who we are. It's as if she thinks that by hiding hers, she appears stronger to others." She then looked at Beras, clearly expecting some sort of response.

He shrugged, and looked forwards again. He could still feel the weight of her gaze. He hated being noticed. He knew Malia was trying to be nice to him, and trying to make him feel more comfortable, but it wasn't working. If anything, it was making it worse.

Malia looked away, clearly feeling somewhat discouraged. "Anyway, please don't let her get to you. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

Beras nodded as she rode off to the side. Ahead of him, Aereth had held out his arm to the left. The signal to slow down. They would be arriving at the edge of the province of the Khajiit soon, and they would need to make sure they weren't seen crossing over. A few officials demanding their identities could risk the entire mission.

The grass had begun to grow more coarse, some of it browning and growing in patches. It was clear that the provinces were divided by their geography more than anything else. One could easily see the physical change as they passed from one to another. It made Beras think of the war and how, despite provinces being captured, they never got renamed or reshaped. He supposed this was the reason why.

"We'll be coming up on Riverhold within the next half hour," Aereth shouted back to his squad. "Once we get there, keep your heads down and let me do the talking!"

They all nodded in unison, trusting in their captain without a shadow of a doubt. But Beras couldn't help but wonder why he had been brought along. Ceolwe had said it was to tend to the horses during the trip, but so far that hadn't been at all necessary. Perhaps they were simply looking for an excuse to give him some experience?

He slapped his forehead, reminding himself that he needed to focus on the task at hand. He could see riverhold off in the distance, and even from afar he could tell it was a busy market town. Caravans filled with goods were lined up outside the walls. Despite its name, however, there were no rivers in sight.

In a few minutes they were able to find a stable just outside the gates. A shriveled old Khajiit woman who reeked of skooma tied up their horses for them. After paying her, she whispered in a thick accent, "Take care, travellers. This one's town is filled with sneaking feet and grabbing hands. It would be best to watch your pockets at all times."

Aereth nodded a word of thanks, then turned, gesturing to the group to follow him. They stepped through the gate and were met with the blaring roar of the crowd. Merchants trying to sell their goods, shoppers haggling for lower prices, people screaming as their belongings were taken, the Thalmor guards taking no interest in chasing down the thieves.

They walked around the market for fear of getting lost in the mob. Once they were far enough away from the crowd to hear their own thoughts, they took a rest, sitting on benches, or on the ground. Beras leaned up against a wall, just at the corner. He wanted to avoid the others as much as possible.

In less than a second, a hand wrapped around his mouth and nose as an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled. Unable to scream or even breathe, Beras was pulled down the backside of the building he had leaned against. He tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. In a moment, he could feel the blade of a knife pressed lightly against his neck.

"Alright," said the silky voice of a male khajiit. "Hand over all your gold or I end your life this instant!"

Trying to remain calm despite his situation, Beras took a deep breath. "In the pouch on the left of my belt. Take all you want, just please don't do anything rash." He felt a hand reach into his coinpurse and fish around, grabbing all the gold it could. Then the knife was lowered from his throat, and he was let go. He collapsed to the ground, shaking, the fear having caught up with him.

"Don't even think about telling anyone of this!" the khajiit said in a forceful whisper. "I could track an eagle on a cloudy day, and I most certainly could find-"

"Beras!" Looking up, he saw Malia, Bruda and Anthir sprinting down the alley towards him. It was Malia who had shouted, but already Bruda had slid her dagger out from her sleeve.

The thief took a few steps backwards. "What the-" he began to say, but before he could finish, the dagger had been thrown, stabbing neatly into the hem of his tunic, pinning him to the wall.

Malia passed her own dagger to Bruda, who accepted it gladly. She rushed forwards, holding the tip of the blade a mere inch away from the khajiit's dirty face. "Euch," she spat, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I suppose you were looking for more gold to spend on skooma? Disgusting creature."

"Please!" he begged, a look of panic across his furry face. "Please take me to the guards! "

This struck Beras as somewhat odd. The fear was understandable, for he had just been in the same situation, but why would he beg to be taken to the guards? Shouldn't he be begging them to simply let him leave?

"You despicable coward!" Bruda sneered. "Threatening someone's life then quivering in fear when your's is at stake." She nodded her head towards Beras, then demanded, "Give him back his gold, or else."

"Here!" he shouted, throwing the coins to the ground. "Now take me to the guards!"

Beras stood up, ignoring his gold. "Why are you so desperate to go to the guards? You gave me back my money, I don't see why we can't let you go now." The three other Blades looked at him with shocked expressions. Not only had he willingly spoken to a stranger, but he was being far too quick to forgive.

The khajiit seemed to think so too. He gave Beras a suspicious look, then said slowly, "You really don't understand how things work around here. I'm telling you this because, for some reason, I like you, but turning me into the guards would be the same as letting me go now."

"What do you mean?" chimed in Malia.

"I mean," he continued, "the Thalmor guards would do nothing. They don't care about any crimes imposed upon 'lesser beings' like you and I. Were you an elf, I'd be executed on the spot."

"Get lost scum," growled Bruda, pulling the dagger out of the wall. The khajiit silently scampered away into the shadows.

"Are you okay?" Anthir asked Beras as she gathered up his stolen coins. "We saw you were gone, and feared the worst!"

Beras nodded. "Thanks for coming for me."

"Don't worry about it," Bruda said, smiling at him for the first time. "It was fun."

Malia gestured for the others to follow her. "We need to regroup and inform captain Aereth of the information we've gathered."

Beras nodded again. They had best be on their toes from now on.