Chapter 17 – faithful encounters
By night it had started to snow. Lightly though and not yet enough to cover the ground, but still an unmistakable sign that winter had finally arrived. Arquen shivered in the cold and pulled her dark cloak tighter around her slender frame. She stood still a moment, looking around. Beneath her lay the city of Cheydinhal, quiet and sleepy as ever, unaware of the dark presence residing in its very bowels. Above her loomed the shadow of the old Imperial Fort Farragut. Dark and foreboding the crooked tower reached for the sky, a silent reminder of another time. She presumed walking, yet with each step she took, a strange feeling of dread filled her. Her instincts screamed at her to turn around and hurry away, as far as possible from this place. She looked around again, spying nothing that could explain the feeling.
Maybe a spell Bellamont put on that place to keep unwanted adventurers away.
She thought, clutching her hand to her pounding heart. A couple of days ago, a letter had reached her from Speaker Bellamont.
Speaker Arquen, I request assistance in Cheydinhal. Please meet me at Fort Farragut. There is a hollowed out tree just north-east of the main gate. Your secrecy in this case is of utmost importance.
She really wondered, what the freshly promoted Speaker needed her assistance for. It did not bode well though, that he would not meet with her at the Sanctuary. She assumed that it might have something to do with Lachance's betrayal. Maybe there was still someone in the sanctuary who worked with him, an accomplice so to speak of. Arquen sighed deeply, while she thought back to Lucien's torture. As much as it pained her to torture a beloved brother, it had been deeply satisfying at the same time. The smell of his blood, the twitching of his muscles as he tried to fight back his agonized cries, the pain in his eyes, it had taken her to a high, better than any drug could. And finally the expression on his face, when he received his fatal wound. She would cherish that moment forever. How the proud had fallen. The only regret Arquen had, was that she hadn't been able to see the light in his eyes die. She smiled, while she recalled all those events. She smiled still, as she reached the hollowed out tree and climbed the ladder down into the darkness below.
She arrived at a dimly lit living area. A look around told her, that this most likely had been Lachance's little hide out. There was a desk with neatly stacked scrolls, a shelf with books and the occasional decorative human skull. The walls were decorated with tapestries that proudly displayed the black handprint. It looked like he had just left his home, if not for the layer of dust settling on everything. She tilted her head sideways, taking a closer look at things.
It still has Lucien's touch, everything so neat and ordered.
But the fire had died out a long time ago and the chill of winter had claimed these empty halls. A slight frown appeared on her face. These halls were just this. Empty. She did not appreciate of being kept waiting. Especially not in a dank, cold and gloomy fort. Had something happened to Bellamont already? Should she investigate the Sanctuary instead?
"Hello, Arquen."
A smooth yet cold voice came from behind her. She jumped a little, having not heard any footsteps at all and whirled around. And was hit in the head by something blunt and very heavy. White light exploded alongside the searing hot pain in her head and then everything went dark as she collapsed to the ground. Bellamont let go of the shovel and chuckled cruelly, grabbing her by the ankles and pulling her towards Lachance's sturdy bed, he had prepared earlier the day. With great delight, he shackled her to the bedposts, making sure she had as little motion range as possible. Then he started cutting the clothes from her limp body. She would not need her robe again.
Caman inhaled deeply as he stepped out of the Lonely Suitor's Lodge and scrunched up his nose.
"What a bloody disgusting hole of a town..."
He cursed slightly under his breath, making his way over the shaky, not really trustworthy looking suspension bridge spanning the Larsius River. He had arrived late last night and was barely able to sleep on the flea-bitten mattress of that run down tavern.
"Next time I sleep on a bloody bed roll outside that shithole!"
He really hoped that he would not have to stay long in his least favourite city. The smell of bracken water, fish and sewer almost made him gag.
"That wretched little assassin really owes me one!"
The Altmer paused a moment, looking left and right, while deciding which direction he should take. He turned right, towards the main gate, hoping to get some directions to Ungolim's house from some random beggar and as soon as he had the desired destination, he would return in the evening. Picking Ungolim's lock and subduing a little Bosmer should be easy enough. Fate had other plans though. He spied said Bosmer leaving a shop right across the street, his arms loaded with grocery bags. For a moment Caman considered following the other mer inconspicuously, but then the tall Altmer just smiled and shook his head slightly. When had he ever been inconspicuous? A tall guy with flaming red hair, disfigured ears and tattoos all over his body, along with his huge claymore. That always drew attention to him, if he wanted it or not.
Caman exhaled and walked up to the Bosmer, making his presence known.
"Excuse me, Sir?"
Ungolim's step faltered just a tiny moment, then the Woodelf continued walking as if he hadn't heard anything. He even stepped his pace up a little. Ungolim hated to be outside of the safety of his home. And he hated those nosy adventurers coming into town and asking everybody for work or rumours. Behind him Caman straightened with a scowl on his face.
"Hey, you! I'm fucking talking to you!"
Ungolim shot the Altmer an annoyed glance over the shoulder.
Yes, definitely adventurer. No one in his right mind carries that big of a sword.
He thought, turning towards Caman.
Or maybe Fighters Guild.
He drew in a deep breath while watching the tall mer crossing their distance warily.
The day, we allow such braggarts to work for us, I quit...
His thoughts trailed off, as Caman finally stood in front of him, with a weird smile on his face. Dark green eyes searched Caman's with a slight frown. That warrior gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
"I was beginning to think you were deaf, Bosmer!"
Ungolim's frown only deepened. There was something in that mer's attitude as well that made his inner alarms go off.
"I'm sorry."
Ungolim said with a forced smile.
"But I'm really not one for engaging in conversation. Please leave me."
The Altmer's stare hardened and his smile froze on his features, while Ungolim quickly turned around and scurried away.
"Difficult to work with my ass! Damn you, Lachance!"
He hissed under his breath, before following the Bosmer.
"I only have one question!"
He called after Ungolim.
"If you need directions, go ask the guards."
The small mer didn't even bother to look back at the warrior. Caman could feel his anger rising and for a moment he had to fight back the urge to break that mer's scrawny little neck.
"You arrogant little fetcher."
Caman hissed only loud enough for the Woodelf to hear. The last thing he wanted was to draw the guard's attention. But yet again he found himself ignored by the other man, who was just about to put his housekey into the lock. Caman sighed, before calling out.
"What is the colour of night?"
Ungolim froze immediately, turning towards the tall elf. The warrior smirked as he closed their distance, reminding the Woodelf of a predator closing in on his prey. Caman stopped only inches away from Ungolim, leaning down and whispered into his ear.
"Sanguine, my brother."
Ungolim shivered involuntarily by the sound of the elf's low voice and his hot breath brushing against his ear. Frowning deeply with suspicion he simply stated:
"You are not one of us."
Caman straightened with a triumphant glare and looked around.
"No."
He said, noticing the guards watching. Apparently, they had caused enough commotion for them to notice the unlikely pair of elves. Caman jerked his head slightly in their direction.
"So how about you invite me in and serve me a beer and we talk reasonably. Or we can talk about dealings of your bloody Brotherhood here in the open."
Ungolim winced slightly before looking around. He, too, noticed the guards keeping an eye on them. Inwardly he cursed, opening the door.
"Inside!"
He hissed ushering the Altmer in. Caman sauntered into the small hallway with a smile, followed by the Listener. By the time Ungolim had put his grocery bags way, Caman already had helped himself to a bottle of ale and waited in the living room. Ungolim stood across the room, eyeing that arrogant Altmer for a moment. It was then he noticed the High Elf's ear and he felt his heart rate pick up. How could he have missed that little detail before. He stuffed his right hand into the sleeve of his left arm, nervously fingering the hilt of his hidden blade.
"Who are you?"
His voice was barely more than an angry hiss, yet Caman bowed slightly, still smiling this unnerving smile.
"Caman Verhane! At your service!"
Caman straightened up to his full hight.
"And you are Ungolim I presume."
The Bosmer gave him a small sharp nod.
"What do you want from me? Here to kill me?"
Caman folded his arms across the chest, mirroring the Bosmer.
"I? Nothing. Though the thought of bashing your skull in did cross my mind."
Caman paused watching the small mer tense up.
"Sadly Fighters Guild laws prevent me from killing, unless I'm being attacked first."
Another small pause. Ungolim's eyes narrowed, giving the elf the I-don't-believe-you look.
"The Fighters Guild? What ..."
"I'm here on behalf of a...friend."
The warrior cut the Listener off. Still tense Ungolim watched him suspiciously.
"What friend? What in Sithis name do you want from me?"
Careful not to startle the Bosmer, Caman reached into his bag, without taking his eyes off of Ungolim. His frown deepened, as he got aware of the mer's posture and how he held his arms.
"If you jump me with that blade, I'll rip your fucking head off and crap into your windpipe!"
Caman growled, causing the Bosmer to straighten and drop his arms to the side. The Listener could do nothing, than to watch Verhane dig through his bag. That man was dangerous, he could feel it. And he moved with the grace of a predator. Not an easy target, not even for the Listener himself.
Finally, Caman produced a small worn journal bound in green leather and handed it to the Bosmer.
"What's that ?"
The small man asked looking at the book like it would bite him. Caman sighed in slight annoyance.
"It's a fucking book!"
Ungolim looked up, a challenging expression on his face.
"I can see that it's a fucking book."
Caman's gaze darkened even more.
"Don't! Repeat me! That annoys me!"
Ungolim huffed.
"Oh yeah? Well, your whole presence annoys me!"
The Altmer straightened.
"Then read that FUCKING BOOK!"
Ungolim turned the journal over in his hand. It had no title on the cover, just some stains that looked a lot like dried blood. The High Elf turned away, putting his emptied bottle in the top of a high shelf as he did.
"I'll let myself out."
He said, yet stopped on the threshold. For the first time, he abandoned his ever-present smirk and gave the Bosmer an almost stern look.
"My friend has been wronged greatly. This book will clear his name."
Again, Ungolim's look flickered down to the unmarked book.
"Your friend... you never told me his name."
The Altmer shrugged.
"You'll figure it out."
He answered, disappearing into the hallway and going to the front door. He opened it, but stopped yet again, as he felt Ungolim's gaze bore into his back.
"You know, Ungolim. You should be more careful these days. Your traitor is still at large."
The Listener's head snapped up in alarm.
"How..."
He started but was cut off by the warrior.
"My friend was faithful. You killed the wrong guy."
Ungolim's eyes widened as the information sank in, while Caman cocked his head to the side.
"Ah, don't give me that look! Your goons didn't even bother to hear my friend's side of the story. They gutted him like a fucking pig."
Seconds later the door slammed shut behind Caman, leaving Ungolim behind in his dimly lit hallway. For a long time the little Bosmer just stared at his front door without really seeing it. The book heavy in his hand, the Altmer's words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.
My friend was faithful. The traitor is still at large.
Like a sleepwalker, he moved into the living room and sat down in his favourite chair by the window. His gaze wandered down to the book and he ran his fingers over the rough worn leather.
"Lachance... you came back to haunt me, didn't you? "
He whispered into the silence of his empty house, but as so often he received no answer, letting his thoughts wander into another direction.
Why hasn't our Mother warned me? Surely she knows what is going on. Why isn't she talking to me? Have I lost her favour?
Ungolim sighed looking our of his window. He was able to get a tiny glimpse of the Lucky Old Lady. She had been quiet a while now. Sure occasional contracts would still come in, but something had changed. He feared that the Night Mother was most displeased by his inability to find the traitor and to ban the danger to the family. He sighed deeply once more and started reading the book.
Arquen awoke, shivering in the cold surrounding her. For a moment she lay still trying to piece her last few hours together. But her head seemed empty. She lay in a cold and dimly lit room with a pounding headache.
Lay?
She wondered. Then she remembered. Remembered being summoned to Fort Farragut by Speaker Bellamont. Remembered looking around a room that reminded her so much of Lucien. And she remembered being hit over the head by something heavy. She gasped in shock, trying to sit up, but found that she was bound tightly by the wrists. Twisting her neck to the side as far as possible, she got a good glimpse on the sturdy chains that attached her to a no less sturdy wooden bedpost. There was no hope to get free, yet stubborn as she was, she pulled on the chains. As expected they bit into the tender flesh of her inner arms.
"Oh. You are awake."
A voice purred to her left. She turned to look and saw something move in the deep darkness surrounding her. A shadow amongst shadows that slowly solidified until the dark spat out a smiling Bellamont. Carefully he sat on the side of the bed and reached a hand out towards the bound woman. Almost gently he brushed a strand of blood crusted light brown hair out of her face.
"I was starting to get worried, Arquen."
Again he ran his fingers through her hair, twisting one strand around his index finger.
"You have such beautiful hair. Almost like her."
Arquen's eyes searched Bellamont's face. Something seemed off about him. Like he wasn't all there.
"Mathieu. Get me free."
His fingertips ghosted down the side of her face and traced her jaw bones.
"Oh. I'm afraid I can't do this, dearest sister."
She froze in shock. That was one answer she had not expected. Despite all hope, she pulled on the chains again, and again they held her secured.
"You will stay my guest for a little while."
He continued.
"And don't even try a spell. They are enchanted, you will only inflict damage on yourself."
Her eyes darkened in anger, her last hope shattered.
"Why?"
She spat.
"Why are you doing this?"
A weird smile appeared on Mathieu's features and he cocked his head to the side.
"You must be cold."
He stated, tracing his fingers down her throat, over her left breast, flank and thigh, resting his hand on her knee. She shivered as realisation hit her with stark clarity. She was completely naked, her feet bound to the bed post as well and her legs spread apart in an embarrassing and uncomfortable angle. Her eyes widened in horror and slowly shifted towards the Breton. Memories she had locked away long ago threatened to break through her mental barrier. It took her a second to realise that the young man had already taken off his clothes. She still just looked on in shock, while he turned and folded his black robe and laced leather pants neatly together and put them on a chair nearby, lining his boots up parallel to the chair's legs. Again there was this eerie smile on his face that began to creep the Altmer Speaker out. She swallowed hard, she had a faint idea what was to follow.
"I'll warm you, mommy."
He whispered his eyes looking through the elf woman and crawled into bed with her. He positioned himself atop of her, with his lower half between her legs.
"I...I'm not you mother."
She said, her voice low and shaking. She was smacked in the face hard. So hard in fact, that her lip cracked open and blood ran down her chin.
"Shut up you bitch!"
The Breton hissed, rage swirling behind his pale blue eyes. But only a moment, then his eyes glazed over again and hi started stroking the top of her head, matting her hair down.
"I've always loved your hair."
He whispered, his voice soft and his gaze distant. Arquen swallowed, the memories she tried to hold back growing stronger.
"It's ok, Mathieu."
She whispered while he started nuzzling her neck. He inhaled deeply through his nose, smelling her skin.
"It's ok. Mommy won't leave you."
His hands wandered down, caressing her shoulders and flanks.
"No,"
he whispered back, his breath hot against her throat.
"You won't leave me."
His hands found her breasts, and moments later his mouth followed, sucking on her nipple as if he expected to feed on it. Bellamont's face morphed into that of Arquen's uncle and she had to take a shaky breath in through gritted teeth to will that picture away.
"It's ok."
She said, staring at the ceiling.
"Mommy will take care of you."
"Yes,"
He whispered back.
"Take care of me."
She took another calming breath in. This was her chance. If she could use his delusion it was now.
"But first you need to untie mommy."
He squeezed her breasts painfully tight, burring his face in her hair again. Arquen had to close her eyes, as the image of her uncle appeared in front of her inner eyes again, while she tried to bend her face away from the Breton.
His fingers dug into the skin of her jaw so tightly, she was sure that it would leave bruises.
"Don't think I'm that stupid, Arquen!"
He hissed into her ear, before licking all the way from her jaw up to the tip of her delicately pointed ear. Her eyes snapped open, as she felt his arousal press hard against her private parts. This was all too familiar.
"Please...Brother..."
She tried. A phrase she remembered too well from her youth. Her throat constricted. She had killed her family, in the hope to run from her memories and now her past caught up to her.
Maybe that's my punishment?
She thought.
Night Mother please forgive me...
"Don't ever try that psycho shit on me again!"
His voice brought her back to the present. She nodded, feeling her eyes getting watery as a wave of desperation and helplessness washed over her. He moved his hips, pressing harder at her entrance.
"Oh, I just can't wait to fuck you...sister!"
Without warning, he grabbed both of her nipples between thumb and index finger and twisted them around. She could not suppress a pained cry. And finally, the memory broke free
The weight of her uncle pressed her to the mattress. His breath reeked of alcohol and his body of sweat. His buried his head in her hair, panting in exhaustion, while pulling himself out of her. She hurt. Her whole body burned and she knew she was bleeding. She always bleed afterwards, but her family did not care. Her mother looked away and her father and brother were no different from her uncle. Finally he stood up and left without a word, leaving her behind in the silence of her room. She had stopped crying long ago. Slowly she sat up, rubbing her hand over her swollen belly. She was in her sixth month again. Her uncle had to disappear, she had to make sure. Again her hand rubbed over her belly. And then she would bury her child next to its brother near the kitchen door.
Pain brought her back. Mathieu bit into her shoulder, leaving a perfect set of teeth marks. Had he been talking to her? He lifted himself off and relieve flooded her. He did not hurt her. Not yet.
"I don't have time to play with you today."
He said in a casual tone of voice. Her eyes met his, and he smiled down at her cruelly. A slight frown appeared on her features while her eyes travelled down his still naked body and came to rest on the short riding whip.
"You've been bad Arquen. You killed an innocent brother. And you enjoyed it."
He whispered, coming closer towards her.
"You need to be punished."
Her eyes widened.
"No!"
She said in a flat tone of voice over and over until it turned into agonized screams. Bellamont unleashed his fury on her body. The whip bit into the tender flesh of her thighs, belly and chest until she was covered in marks. And yet he could not stop. Her screams and the sight and smell of blood excited him greatly. He hit her again and again with such force, blood spattered back at him. Bellamont laughed until his laugh became a surprised cry. His legs buckled as he climaxed and he fell forward, emptying his load onto her raw and bleeding belly. Arquen only whimpered, she had no strength left to cry out. Mathieu lay on her a moment panting, before he sat next to her. Arquen stared up at the ceiling, shivering from the pain. Her body felt like it was set on fire. Bellamont grabbed her chin again and forced the Altmer woman to look into his eyes.
"You better rest bitch."
He said coldly.
"When I return, I'll make sure you scream my name."
He stood wiping himself clean before putting his leather pants back on.
"Where are you going?"
Arquen dared to ask in a shaking voice. As much as she feared his presence and what he would do to her, the feared to be in the darkness alone more. Bellamont only grinned down at her coldly.
"I'm going to Bruma. You know I have no horse and I want to be there in time before Fredas."
He paused a moment, letting the information sink in, while adjusting his black robe on him.
"You know, that old fool Uvani should have been a little nicer to me while he could. Now I will make him suffer!"
Arquen could only shake her head in response. She was still shaking her head, even after Mathieu had left the fort. It was a form of silent protest. All she could do in her situation. The little strength she had left, she focused on healing her body. But the enchanted shackles made that nearly impossible as well. So she lay, shaking with pain and from the cold, helpless and despairing. A prey to her own dark thoughts and memories.
Alval Uvani hated Morndas. Not because he had to get up very early to make his journey from Leyawiin to Bravil. No. Even though he wasn't a young elf any more, he did not mind travelling that much, it was what he does after all. It was the city of Bravil that caused his disdain. It was nothing more than a stinking dirty hole.
With his usual scowl, Alval Uvani entered the Loney Suitor's Lodge and took his usual room for the night, before getting himself something to eat. He heaved a little sigh as he finally settled down at the table. After walking the whole day, it was a relief to finally being able to sit down.
Maybe I should consider buying a horse
He thought, sipping on his wine. He settled back in his chair, observing the crowd in the Inn. The usual thugs and lowlifes like in the most taverns he frequented.
Before I buy a horse, I might consider staying at better taverns. A clean and comfortable bed would be a relief for my back...
Alval took another sip from his wine, slightly amused by his own thoughts. He lowered his glass to the table and narrowed his eyes, as something caught his attention. A little man in a dark cloak was coming his way. Alval's scowl deepened. Exactly what he needed now. Small talk. A sneer began to tug on his lips, while the man pulled his hood back.
"Uvani."
The Bosmer greeted him, taking his seat opposite the Dunmer. The angry scowl never left Alval's face, though he was surprised, to say the least.
"What can I do for you?"
He asked his tone all business. Ungolim took a quick glance around, before answering Uvani's question with one of his own.
"How do yo like your new assistant?"
The Dark Elf couldn't help but scoff, thinking about his new silencer.
"Not as efficient as Bellamont."
Was all he replied after a long pause filled with uncomfortable silence. Ungolim frowned.
"You doubt he can perform?"
"No. That's not it. I don't know. He's young..."
Ungolim nodded.
"So was Bellamont. And so were you once. Besides you didn't like Bellamont as well when he became your Silencer."
The Dunmer shrugged.
"Still I'd say, Alor is different. He smiles a little too much for my taste."
The Bosmer chuckled lightly.
"And there I thought all Dunmer were as grumpy as you."
Uvani glared at the Listener for a couple of heartbeats, before asking in a cold tone of voice.
"What do you want from me? I'm sure you're not here to insult me. Or ask for my Silencer."
The smile left the Bosmer's face.
"No, indeed I'm not."
Again he glanced around the bar room, but nobody seemed to take any interest in them.
"You think he can figure something out for me?"
That caught Uvani's attention and he raised an eyebrow in suspicion.
"Like what?"
"There's a member of the Fighters Guild that sparked my interest."
"The Fighters Guild? That bumbling, goblin hunting idiots?"
Uvani earned a stern glare from his Listener and fell silent, feeling that there was more to the story, than Ungolim admitted as of yet.
"I want him to investigate an Altmer warrior by the name of Caman Verhane. I want to know, where he lives, who his friends are and what he does outside the Guild."
Again the Listener paused.
"I hope you do understand that this is no contract. I don't want him killed."
Uvani nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip of his wine glass. His crimson eyes narrowed at his superior over the rim of his glass.
"May I ask why?"
"You may."
Ungolim sighed heavily, taking the glass from Uvani and poured himself a glass. He took a big sip before he finally looked into the Dunmer's eyes.
"That Altmer paid me a visit yesterday. He knew who I am...what I am."
Uvani's eyes widened a little.
"How could he have information about us? Do you think he worked for ..."
Ungolim shook his head before Alval had the chance to finished his sentence.
"No. He hinted, that Lachance was not the traitor and gave me this."
He held up a small book.
"Evidence, that he was indeed innocent."
Uvani leant forward.
"Well. That's just a little too late."
The Bosmer nodded.
"Yes. But he knew as well how Lachance had died. There must be a contact, giving him the information. I want to know who this is!"
Again Uvani nodded before pointing at the book.
"Any clues in there?"
Again the little mer shook his head.
"No. Only the ramblings of a madman. Plans to kill our Mother and his hatred towards Lucien."
Uvani stared at the book a moment in deep thought. He should have listened to his instincts. He had known, that something was not right about the whole affair. Lucien would have never been so careless to leave evidence behind, if he was indeed the traitor. But now it was too late and Lucien was dead.
"Get back to me as soon as you've got the information."
Ungolim's voice startled him out of his thoughts. The Bosmer stood up and pulled his hood up.
"I'll pay you well."
With that, the Listener left, leaving the his Speaker alone. Uvani sighed and emptied his wine, before he, too left the inn. He had to head back to contact his Silencer as soon as possible. He doubted that he could have slept any ways.