Chapter 6: Through the City of Stone

Brynjolf held Aislinn's hand carefully, nudging her gently every time she was supposed to take a turn. He could feel her uneasiness as she walked the streets in the city blindfolded, her body desperately searching for a support in the complete darkness she was to. He hated it as much as she did but they had no choice. Even as a skilled thief, he was amazed that they had made it this far without any real incidents. They had walked right through the main gate. Who would have ever guessed.

There were not many people out in the streets. Even the stands right in front of the inn were deserted, the river being the only element that didn't seem to mind roaring mightily. The city seemed dreadful. A horrible set of cold stone buildings seemingly unaffected by the passing time. No children running on the narrow streets, no smiles on the faces of the few people who hesitantly walked around. They gave him and Aislinn frightened or disgusted looks as they passed them. Several of them seemed to silently comment on Aislinn's headband and some tried to evade the confrontation completely.

Brynjolf turned right and continued along the canal to his left. Across a bridge he saw a group of mixed-raced people standing below the giant rock that created the natural fortification of the city, listening to an Altmer official. The words that came out of his mouth suddenly stunned him and Aislinn in place.

"Dear citizens of Markarth, heed my words!" his voice echoed throughout the city as if it was amplified. "Our beloved hero, Aislinn the Dragonborn, died a horrible death in the wilds of the Reach. Yes, we all mourn for her, but we must not give in! She will be remembered! But! Many try to tarnish her name or act in her name for their selfish reasons! These unjustified actions must be punished! There is an impostor among us! Do not be deceived! To you, she might look just like our hero, but she is deceitful! Do not listen to her words and do not believe anything she says. Be aware that she was in contact with the Dragonborn and got a lot of information from her. This individual is dangerous! Be on your guard and inform us immediately if you encounter her, for she must be put to justice!"

A few cheers sounded from the crowd. A man stood on his toes and gave out a cry: "For Skyrim!"

"We will not be deceived," a woman shouted.

"Brynjolf," Aislinn whispered in horror.

"Not now, lass," he shook his head. "Not now."

He led her through the crowd, carefully pulling and nudging to avoid any possible collision, and up the stairs to his right. Following Aislinn's instructions, he turned right and proceeded along the shelf, his cautious gaze looking out for any sign of suspicious movement or any unusual occurrences. On his left stood Endon's house, Dwemer golden door leading to a dwelling carved into a rock which basically hosted all the houses in the city. This was the building they were trying to reach. And there was a Thalmor guard in front of it.

Brynjolf drew a deep breath, squeezed Aislinn's hand tightly and took a few steps towards the guard.

"Excuse me," he called. A male elf of a smaller posture turned his head to him.

"What is it, citizen?" he asked with a look that suggested being bothered.

"I found something rather interesting down there, right next to that bridge," the thief pointed at an intersection where the crowd was standing. He handed the elf an amulet. It was a necromancer's amulet that he had picked up during a mission of his. "I think I saw its owner walk that way," he waved to the south-west corner of the city. The ban on necromancy was of no importance to the Dominion but if his assumption was correct, the Thalmor wouldn't want a necromancer in the city.

"I see. Thank you, citizen, I will look into it," the elf replied coldly. Brynjolf pretended to walk away but peeked behind several times. Soon, the elf left his place and headed the way Brynjolf directed him.

"All right," he whispered. "We only have a moment to get in so stay close to me until I unlock the door," he told Aislinn, although he doubted she even needed to be told. He took a lockpick out of his shoe and started working on the door. Aislinn could hear a click as it unlocked. They sneaked into the building and closed the door behind them. Skillfully, Brynjolf locked it again, his fingers swift and quiet.

Aislinn took the headband off her eyes and blinked several times. It was dark, the only source of the light being the hearth in front of her, the flame that would never go out, but for the eyes which had adjusted to utter darkness, even such a dim light could be painful.

"Finally," she exhaled in relief. "But what was that about? Are they… do they seriously think that the people will be deceived that easily?"

"You heard them," Brynjolf said with a grim look in his face. "And they will be deceived. In the end, people are just a herd of sheep that desire to be led. The Thalmor may be scary but they sure are better leaders than most of the Nords. They're decisive and strict. People tend to be drawn to this kind of power, no matter how much they despise it."

"You put it as if Skyrim was already lost," she frowned.

"It will be if people don't start fighting for themselves," he said mercilessly.

With a sigh, she looked around the room. So there was a fireplace ahead, facing the wall on the left. A small space on her left was separated from the spot where the two of them were standing by a stone counter. She walked around it and walked a few steps to find herself on a stone platform. There were several showcases with jewelry there, all intact. An unlocked chest lay on the bottom shelf of a cupboard with nothing but a few pelts inside. She turned around and walked past the fireplace. There was a door and a bedroom behind it. She searched the drawer, the bedside table and the bookshelf which, surprisingly, was full of everything but books, while Brynjolf looked behind the furniture and under the beds. She noticed a trophy on the wall. She removed it carefully, studying the wall behind and the trophy itself.

They found nothing. There wasn't a single clue, not in the beds, under the carpets and pelts or even in the dishes that lay around. Everything seemed perfect, untouched. If the Thalmor had been here, they hadn't left a trace. It didn't even seem like anyone had ever been living here. Strange.

The two of them went through everything again. And then again. And again. Still nothing, as though the place refused them. Aislinn wanted to believe that the answer was close but she couldn't grasp it.

"I don't think we'll be able to find anything here, lass," Brynjolf said, a trace of resignation in his voice.

She let out a sigh of disappointment as she leaned to the wall between the beds, her left hand pressing against it. Suddenly, she felt a cold blow. Surprised, she tugged away and looked at the wall. There was a narrow crevice on it, right where she had touched it before.

"Brynjolf," she whispered.

He watched her as she put her fingers inside and pulled out a small gilded lever, definitely of dwarven origin. A piece of wall slid down and a small window appeared on the other side of the room, revealing an astonishing view of steam mechanisms with great reservoirs, tubes and pipes crossing at many places and pistons which had probably worked relentlessly for centuries. They could see a large room, partly flooded by muddy water. A wide tube was coming out of one of the mechanisms on the opposite side of the room leading to the window the two of them were looking through. There was a lid at the end of it but Aislinn found nothing when she removed it. There were large doors on either side of the room.

"Wow," Aislinn said in awe. "I had no idea."

"We'll not be able to get there from here, though," Brynjolf pointed out.

"There will probably be an entrance through Nchuand-Zel," she said.

"That's right under the jarl's place. How in Oblivion are we supposed to get through there? And also, didn't that horse merchant lad mention a slide?"

"He did," she said. "But it's the only lead we got. We could go through the Hall of the Dead. We should be able to avoid meeting the jarl and most of the Thalmor in the city, I think."

"How I hate these places," he sighed. "I'm a thief. Stealing from the living. Working for the living."

"You chose a bad person to travel with," she chuckled.

"I don't hate traveling with you, though."

"I guess you don't value your life that much, then."

"A thief's life doesn't count for much. But I value yours."

"I'm a thief as well," she objected.

He laughed.

They headed back to the front door. Brynjolf unlocked it again as silently as he could. He could see a silhouette of a guard when he peeked outside. Judging from his height, it wasn't the same guard as before.

"This will require some patience," he said. "Stay ready. Put your headband on and wait. I'll try to distract him but I have to make sure no-one else sees it and that he can't tell where the distraction came from. When I pull your hand, we run. Whatever happens, stay close to me."

She nodded, nervousness framing her face. Reluctantly, she covered her eyes again and waited.

It felt like eternity had passed until she finally heard a clack from outside and felt Brynjolf take her hand. Crouching, they moved outside and back to the place where they had met the crowd in the morning. Then they stood up and pretended to be just normal citizens walking down the streets of the city. The guard before Endon's house looked alert, studying his surroundings. Before he could notice them, they mixed in a group of local merchants hurrying to the marketplace.

"That wasn't too bad," Brynjolf complimented himself. "You okay?"

"Just fine," she said. "If you leave out the fact that I'm dirty, I feel powerless and unprotected and I can't see a damn thing. 'Eyes open, walk with the shadows.' I'm going against the very foundation of the Guild."

"I'm your eyes," he comforted her. "Just rely on me for a while."

Suddenly, they heard the sound of a lute nearby. A bard. Aislinn didn't know the tune. It was a sad, pleading one, not similar to any of the songs she used to listen to at the college or anywhere in the cities. And then, her heart seemed to stop the moment the bard's voice reached her ears. This song was calling to her.

Where are the heroes
The birds in the skies
Oh, can't you hear us
Our pleads and our cries

I see the sun turning
The color of blood
Oh, the brave soldiers
Lie face down in mud

The heroes have left us
Oh what have we done
And where did the gods go
There's nowhere to run

Where can we turn to
In the darkness of times
Our hopes are abandoned
With the sound of doom chimes

But if there's a hero
Then we open the gate
For we'll keep on waiting
He's bound to our fate

There will be heroes
The birds in the skies
Light shines upon us
From where our hope lies

She could feel her body shaking. This is not right. This is NOT right! This bard thinks she's dead while she's standing right next to him. He's calling to a non-existent hero because the last one left him. She left him. Do all the people in Skyrim think the same? Are they all calling to her in this dark hour? Save us. Save us!

Brynjolf caught her as she staggered.

"Let's go," he urged her. They hurried south across a bridge, turned right and headed up the stairs leading to the Understone Keep. They turned left halfway and headed south again when a young woman blocked their way.

"My master, Bothela, is a capable alchemist," she said. Aislinn recognized the voice of Muiri, Bothela's assistant. "We don't get many travelers these days so if you'd like to stop by and buy something, we would much appreciate it. Maybe she could treat those eyes of yours," she pointed towards Aislinn.

"Thank you," Aislinn whispered. "We might consider visiting your shop later."

Muiri froze. "This voice. You're…"

"Shhh, not so loud," Brynjolf hissed, knowing all too well that there was no way back. "You're from the shop called Hag's Cure, I presume? Listen, we're not…"

Completely ignoring him, Muiri stared at Aislinn angrily, grabbed the headband covering her eyes and took three steps backwards.

"There she is," she screamed. "The impostor."

"No, Muiri… shit!" Aislinn swore. "And now what?"

"Now we run!" Brynjolf exclaimed, dragging Aislinn toward the entrance to the Hall of the Dead.

They ran as fast as they could. Two Thalmor guards blocked their way at the end of the bridge they were just crossing. Aislinn pulled her dagger out of her shoe and hit one of them with its hilt. When the elf lost his balance, she shoved him over the edge of the bridge. He screamed as he fell down, drawing even more attention to them. Next to her, Brynjolf danced elegantly around the other guard, making a set of quick stabs all over his body. For a second before having to run again, Aislinn admired his skill with the dagger.

She ducked when an elven arrow flew past her head. Another bridge ahead. More guards were heading their way and not just the Thalmor but also the regular city guards, several of them now blocking the passage to the Hall of the Dead.

"I don't want to hurt you!" Aislinn called to them. "Please…"

They approached them slowly, their seemingly frail and unreliable steel weapons ready in their hands. The whole city was in uproar.

"Fus Ro Dah!" she Shouted, sending the guards in front of her to the ground.

She heard screams nearby but didn't pay attention to them. Determined to use every means possible to reach the entrance door, she ran, she kicked the guards out of the bridges and shelves, stabbed, danced around her enemies. She got ahead of Brynjolf for a moment but he quickly caught up to her.

Suddenly an arrow appeared right in front of her. She gasped in shock and for a moment saw her death. So this is how it ends. The Thalmor get to her and in the end, they rule over Skyrim. She may have slain the great dark beast which called himself the World-Eater, the great and mighty Alduin, the Devourer of Worlds, but she failed as a hero and a savior for no-one would be safe when the land had lost its freedom and succumbed to the cruel justiciars in gilded armors, marching upon it in the false claim to protect it, and roaring Talos in the skies would weep.

But the arrow never hit her. Instead, a man threw himself right in front of her, the next moment his body fell on the ground. He was holding a lute in his hands, trembling, breathing heavily. The arrow pierced his body, its tip sticking out from his back. It had to be the bard from before.

"Why…" Aislinn stared in shock, words stuck deep in her throat, choking upon them as they refused to make their way out.

"You're no imposter," he gasped. "You Shouted. I heard… your voice before… I could… never confuse it… with any other voice. Go… don't let them take you. GO!"

Unwillingly, Aislinn forced herself to run again, the image of the dying bard still vivid before her eyes. His pleading gaze, the mixture of hope and despair, the deepest wells of emotions in the dilated pupils of his eyes. People were dying because of her. People were dying for her! People she'd never even met before. This bard would definitely go to Sovngarde. She would see to it.

Three more Thalmor guards stood before the entrance to the Hall of the dead. Aislinn Shouted again.

"Zun Haal Viik!"

One of the Thalmor backed away as his sword flew out of his hand. Aislinn quickly caught it in the air. Elven sword in her right hand, her dagger in her left, she sliced her way through the guards to the entrance ruthlessly, only to find it locked.

"Brynjolf!" she gave him a pleading look.

"Buy me a minute of time!" he shouted as he rushed towards her, drawing a lockpick from his shoe in a graceful manner.

"I'm giving you five seconds!" She raised her sword to block an arrow.

Another eternity had passed for her when she finally heard a familiar click and the door opened. They quickly rushed through it, smashing it behind them.

"Don't bother locking it, there will be more of them further ahead," Aislinn warned him, catching her breath.

They hurried through the dark corridor, coffins on both sides. For a moment, quiet stillness took them and the dead welcomed them in their realm, Arkay silently watching over them. No-one dared follow them here. But then there was another golden door and beneath it beckoned the jarl's palace. A group of elves was awaiting them when they entered the Understone Keep. There was some kind of white sticky mist surrounding them. Brynjolf's eyebrows furrowed in anticipation of trouble.

Barely able to see anything, they fought back to back in desperate effort to drive their enemies away. Aislinn turned around just in time to see an arrow approach Brynjolf's throat.

NO! she shrieked in her mind frantically. He'll die! He can't die!

"Tiid Klo Ul!" another Shout echoed through the corridor, its source now panting heavily with fear and urgency. The arrow stopped in the air, not even an inch from Brynjolf's body. Aislinn cast it away, furiously slaying down her motionless enemies in a swift manner. When the time started moving again, she had slain most of them. Brynjolf's eyes widened as the image in front of his eyes changed entirely. Aislinn grabbed his hand and led him through the door to the Nchuand-Zel Excavation Site.

The moment the door closed behind them, the ground under their feet and the whole place started to crumble.

A slide? At a time like this? Things couldn't get any worse, Aislinn thought furiously. She and Brynjolf looked around. A vast corridor spread before them, light grey rocks, the same ones the whole corridor was made of, lay around disorderly. A group of large boulders seemed about to come loose right above them, spraying them with a nipping shower of dust and tiny pieces of gravel. Brynjolf darted out to the middle of the corridor. Aislinn took a deep breath and flexed her muscles but suddenly, she found herself unable to move.

"Get out of there, lass!" Brynjolf shouted.

Paralysis spread through her body. She gasped and tried again. Her body was heavy as if weights were tied around her limbs and her chest was about to plummet into the abyss, her mind clouded, fuzzy thoughts and images slowly fading away, leaving but an impenetrable haze. Time seemed to have slowed to make her savor this moment thoroughly.

"Lass!" the thief's voice sounded distant.

"Wuld…" she tried to Shout to get herself to safety. As if her lungs had shrunk, she could barely breathe. Was it Mehrunes Dagon testing her with some kind of cruel joke? Depriving her of power she ought to have and even the one she took for granted?

I have to escape!

"Wuld… Nah…" she fell to her knees, her body shaking with desperate effort, stiffened, helpless.

I'm going to die! sudden horror flooded her thoughts and it took over the hazy cloudiness which had dominated before. It's over! I'm going to die here! I can't move! I can't move!

Her mind went blank. She closed her eyes in harsh acceptance of her fate. Her body failed the last attempt to stand and she could feel her head hit the ground. She vaguely recalled the feeling of a sticky white mist pressing against her body, freezing and burning at once. Then everything faded into darkness.