Chapter 13: The Revelation

The morning breeze caressed the pitch black mane as the horse standing in front of the ragged stone stall in the Riften stables bobbed his head to welcome his long missed master. Shadowmere's crimson eyes roamed around endlessly, always inspecting every part of his surroundings. He was, for once, the undead horse of the Dark Brotherhood, always wary, cautious of everything that might disturb his more or less peaceful existence, never mind the fact that he served the most dangerous institution one could think of. He was indeed a peaceful being, not eager to start a fight on his own, but any enemy of his current master would be an enemy of his as he was sworn to protect her with his life. He did not mind fighting and there were times he found the bloodshed quite enjoyable but he did not exactly seek it either.

When she came to him, he set his gaze upon her and kept it that way, silently examining her. His eyes followed her short chestnut hair, a little ruffled but nevertheless clean looking, sliding down her long sparse fringe and her shimmering golden eyes, now displaying a number of mixed emotions of an immense depth, insecurity surmounting them all, down the straight nose and the firm lips of a sweet rose color in between her wide jaws which somehow reflected her strong-willed personality. He continued past the shoulders, unusually broad for a woman of her posture, seemingly bent a little by some unknown force, as if she was carrying more than she could take, and her slender body, still in the grey of the dawning day but giving out slight vibes reflecting an inner shiver.

She had changed. He had known it the moment he had caught the first glimpse of her but still took a moment to survey it thoroughly. There had been fear, betrayal, loss... and something was stirring up inside her, depriving her of peace and the ability to rest at ease. He waited. Sooner or later she would tell him everything. She always did for her silent companion was the only one she could one hundred percent rely on.

Aislinn took a step forward and hugged his nape as he nudged her right shoulder with his muzzle. She buried her face in his nightly coat and took a deep breath, a moment later realizing this wasn't the best idea. She shook her head and inhaled again, distancing herself to the length of her arm from his face.

"I think I'm losing myself," she whispered. The horse gave her a thoughtful look, telling her he was willing to listen. "I don't know what to do anymore, Shade. They are calling to me... the dragons inside. I never had my own life. From the moment I woke up on that wagon, Ulfric Stormcloak sitting on the very same bench as me, tied up right, I was destined to be the Dragonborn and just that. Alduin set me on the course of my destiny and it haunted me ever since. I have no past and nothing I would call a life. I thought I had developed a personality of some kind... but I guess embracing my fate and telling myself it might actually be fun does not count as independent thinking. I always just did what people told me. And now the thirst for power is becoming more and more unbearable every moment. It's like I'm turning into a dragon... one blinded by bloodlust and visions of dominating the world. There has always been so little of me... and now I'm losing even the little I have."

Shadowmere snuffled and nuzzled against Aislinn's cheek in a calming gesture. She patted him tenderly, pressing her forehead against his for a slight moment. Then she walked past him and swung herself to the saddle atop.

"Guess that's all for today's whining session," she sighed. "We'll have to head to the meeting point soon. And I guess someone won't be happy to know that I'm roaming the woods with just my horse, even if it's you." She snorted a little, more with entertainment than embitterment. She tugged Shadowmere's reins slightly to her left to indicate their direction, despite knowing that the loyal horse somehow always anticipated which way they were headed. She looked around at the golden leaves of the surrounding birch trees clouded by a dim grey morning mist one last time. For a brief moment, she thought she spotted a movement behind one of the white trunks but the next moment there was nothing but a silent murmur of the trees bending meekly in the breeze. She watched the stables fade in the grey as she was carried away by her black friend.

"Do you make it a habit to spy on people like this?" Brynjolf's rough voice pointed sharply as the rusty-haired thief left his spot behind the birch trunk which had served as his cover a moment ago and made his way to the back of the stall where a white-haired purple-robed dark elf with fiery eyes was standing, his back propped against the rear wall.

"I could ask you the same thing," Marilis answered with a smile, revealing a set of unnaturally snow-white teeth. His face revealed no emotion, only mystery sprang from it, his voice quiet, neither too high nor too deep. "Surely the Dragonborn did not expect her friend to invade her privacy. And, as a matter of fact, I was here before she even came."

"Something tells me you knew she would, though," the thief said with an undertone of suspicion.

"Perhaps." Another mysterious smile as the mage closed his eyes and then opened them in an annoyingly slow motion. "I don't think it wise to start a fight over such a trivial matter, really. We're on the same side. What's the point of fighting for Skyrim if we don't stick together?"

Brynjolf snorted and squinted at him.

"You don't trust me," the elf said, the smile still formed on his lips.

"I don't know you."

An expressionless sigh escaped the Dunmer's lips. "We are losing time here."

Without another word, he whistled and a cream-colored horse came running to him. He jumped into the saddle lightly, patted the animal on its nape and jabbed its flank with his heels tenderly. The horse followed the trail of Aislinn and Shadowmere, leaving Brynjolf to watch its back. The thief did not hesitate, however, taking the last remaining horse, a mighty looking dark brown stallion with a chestnut-colored mane which reminded him of Aislinn's hair, from the stall and catching up to his uninvited companion in seconds. He did not like to ride horses, feeling much safer on his reliable feet, but current situation did not leave him much choice. He watched the Dunmer mage cautiously, trying to detect any kind of suspicious movement that might give anything away. He knew far too well that his efforts were wasted but still couldn't help but be wary of him. This elf had a strange lust in his look and last night he had kept directing it towards Aislinn. The ever trusting lass had not noticed a thing which was driving Brynjolf crazy and filled him with strange anxiety. Even more disturbing was the fact that she had just given away her utmost secret feelings, which she didn't want to talk about even in front of Brynjolf himself, to him. He was annoyed for the sole reason of someone else knowing what she had been thinking deep inside. He claimed this secret his own, a passage to her heart which only he could take. And this uncanny Dunmer had just managed to take this privilege from him.

It did not take long for them to catch a glimpse of a pitch black horse coat, a lone figure in a mighty daedric armor sitting in the saddle on top of it, the crimson crevices on the armor pulsating with a dull light. She did not have her helmet on, making her short chestnut hair fly about freely. She turned around cautiously as the two of them approached her, checking her surroundings for a possible danger. Her eyes met with Brynjolf's and her face displayed a sheepish expression of a silent apology the moment the thief sent a scolding look her way.

"Do you really find it so bothersome to just wait for me or Karliah if you have to insist on not joining the Legion before Shor's Stone?" he inquired grumpily, pulling the reins to match the pace of his horse with Shadowmere's.

"I needed some privacy," she said evasively. He watched as her brows furrowed but she hardly made it possible to guess anything she could be thinking from her face.

"And is your privacy worth your safety?"

"My privacy is worth myself," she responded sternly.

He stared at her for a moment, ignoring the meaningful looks their Dunmer companion kept landing on them. Aislinn pulled Shadowmere closer to Brynjolf and nodded in apology to Marilis. He nodded back with an apprehensive look in his face and tugged the reins of his steed slightly to slow its pace. The two thieves went ahead and soon their figures turned into mere silhouettes on the background of mighty Fort Greenwell which rose above the scattered pines and birches surrounding it.

"You don't have to give me this look," Aislinn sighed, shooting an irked glance at Brynjolf. "I'm still a thief and I know when someone is eavesdropping on me."

"I wasn't eavesdropping," he defended uttered in defense. "I just…"

"So should I call it stalking?" Another sigh escaped her lips. "Bryn, can't you just leave me alone for a while?"

So it was Bryn now. This was really bad. She wasn't used to calling people shorter names, maybe except children since she had a weakness for them. It could only mean she was angry with him.

"So, where did Karliah go?"

Brynjolf blinked at the sudden change of topic. She liked to do that a lot, whenever the subject of their discussion involved something she did not wish to talk about. It was either this or a long silence which eventually melted into a sort of casual conversation. Still, he could not get used to it and felt taken aback every time it happened. The upside was that she never stayed angry for too long.

"She went to meet Farkhali," he replied after a short pause. "She was supposed to return today with the news from Balgruuf. Hopefully it's good for us."

"Balgruuf is no fool. He doesn't like to get involved in wars but he can put two and two together. And if Farkhali is the one we sent to persuade him, he couldn't stand a chance." A silent chuckle escaped Aislinn's mouth.

Brynjolf suppressed his mixed emotions and his lips formed a mild smile. There was a moment of silence until they heard a roar tear through the air and shake the ground around them. Instinctively, Aislinn reached for her bow and looked up the sky. Her eyes did not have to search for long to spot a dark winged silhouette of huge measures gliding the currents of the wind just a mile ahead. It headed northeast, ignoring the creatures below rushing from it in horror. She halted, staring at the beast with a puzzled expression, before she heeled Shadowmere to a fierce gallop. Brynjolf gasped as she did but quickly followed her.

"Lass!" he called, desperately trying to catch up with her. He shuddered as he realized that Shadowmere outmatched his horse by great measure. He was furious. Whatever the reason Aislinn had decided to follow the dragon, he was desperate to stop her. Even if the roads in the Rift and the Whiterun Hold were safe, their destination lied elsewhere and this was no time to be fighting an angry dragon. He cussed when he watched her silhouette fade in distance.

"Namira's rotten bones, come back, you fool! Slimy eyes of a fatty troll, damn it! There's a limit to Nocturnal's patience!"

He heard two pairs of hoofs cantering behind him and saw a fluttering mass of purple robes as the Dunmer mage closed the gap between them in a speedy rush.

"Hop on," he beckoned.

"What?" Brynjolf stared at him in disbelief.

"I said hop on. You want to catch up with her, do you not?"

The thief smirked but did as the dark elf had told him. The Dunmer slid his hand into a well-hidden pocket in his robes and pulled out a pellucid orb of the size of an eagle egg. He held his hand over it for a brief moment and a flash of silver light followed. A trail of what looked like shimmering silver dust appeared in front of them and led the way Shadowmere had galloped to. The elf heeled his horse to hurry and Brynjolf blinked in surprise as the land around him turned into a whirlwind of blurry images.

"Not that I know much about magic but I've never seen anything quite like this," he whispered in astonishment.

"You won't be able to learn this at any college in Tamriel," Marilis replied with more than a bit of pride in his voice, "nor will you be able to use this, in case you consider making me a part of your business." He smiled as Brynjolf raised a brow. "There are advantages the Dunmer gain by worshipping Daedra faithfully. This is one of them. Although," he cleared his throat meaningfully, "this particular knowledge is reserved for the chosen ones."

Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, just hurry up and catch her before it's too late," he grumbled.

"As you wish."

It felt like eternity to him. Although they were slowly but surely closing in on Shadowmere, the undead assassin steed was not to be underestimated. Like a lighting in the skies he pierced the air, surmounting any obstacles with ease, as though the sharp rocks rising high above him were but tiny bumps on the road, the ponds and rivers no more than small puddles and the steep slopes just gentle mounds of elevated ground. He kept the dragon in his sight, rushing furiously after its tail. Still, a great deal of time has passed, the sun behind the cloudy screen advancing to the west horizon, before it started descending at last, circling above the rippled land. Shadowmere slowed his pace and so did Marilis's horse. Finally, Brynjolf could look around without being blinded by the blurry colorful haze surrounding them during their frantic stampede. He inspected the landscape thoroughly, stopping at every distinct point for a brief moment.

A low and rather constricted fort lay on their right which Brynjolf identified as Fort Amol. A river passed it on the right and flew into a vast confluence a few miles ahead, providing water to the mill on its opposite side. On his left side he could see the snowy slopes of High Hrothgar silently rising to the skies in the distance.

Great, he thought furiously as he examined the land. So we're in Eastmarch. No soldiers protecting us, bunch of crazed Thalmor could be awaiting us at every gods-damned corner. Lucky there aren't any corners here. He snorted silently and shot a piercing glare at Aislinn as they approached Shadowmere.

"What in gods-damned Oblivion are you thinking?!" he snapped at her, his face now matching the color of Shadowmere's eyes. "Do you realize how far we've got? Never mind the meeting, we'll be lucky to get back in one piece!"

"Brynjolf, this is bad," she said anxiously, barely noticing the two companions riding in tandem.

"Oh, you don't say."

"No, just look at how fast we got here. There were, wolves, bears and sabre cats along the road. We also passed several hunters and a few inhabited abodes. That dragon didn't stop to hunt any of those, and by the Grace of Akatosh I swear it's hungry and Oblivion fires wouldn't stop it from satisfying that need."

"So?" Brynjolf gave her and uncompromising look but a trace of doubt shaded his face for a brief moment.

"Someone sent that dragon and made absolutely sure it would tear the place apart once it arrived at its destination. It's being controlled."

"I still don't see why that should be any of your concern."

"I'm the Dragonborn, for the Nine's sake! These things are my concern!"

"A Dragonborn hunted by legions of blasted Thalmor in their shiny gilded armors! We're in Eastmarch, for Nocturnal's sake! You're not gonna make it alive out of here!"

She glanced at him furiously, clenching her jaws, her body trembling in rage.

"I'll see to it that I do."

And she heeled Shadowmere to a gallop once more, reaching for her bow and an arrow on the way. The two men followed until she slid off the black stallion after a mile of ride. Brynjolf and Marilis leaped down on the ground after her, all of them on their guard. Aislinn paused as she spotted a mass of shining steel armors and helmets strapped with yellow cloth hemming the northern horizon. Yellow shields with an emblem of a horse carved into them rested in the hands of their wearers who stood alert as the dragon circled above them. Aislinn gasped.

"That's the Whiterun army. These are our reinforcements!"

Brynjolf stood with his mouth open for a brief moment until just two words escaped his lips.

"Oh shit."

They ran frantically downhill, avoiding the rocks and pine trees which kept getting in their way annoyingly. Aislinn took a deep breath and concentrated all her senses on the roaring dragon. It was huge, its silver scales streaked by scarce traces of gold, shining even under the clouded sky. Its prickled ridge glimmered with sparks of purple, just as did its wings. She focused on its movements in attempt to prevent it from diving down on the soldiers. A split second before it did, she Shouted.

"Joor Zah Frul!"

The dragon turned suddenly in a breakneck twist, rising a few hundreds of feet at once. Aislinn winced as she realized she had missed. Moreover, the dragon seemed to have taken her Shout into account. It knew she was there.

She ran towards the army, a daedric arrow nocked in her bow. Then she slowed down, focused and steadied her aim. The arrow went loose with a buzzing sound and pierced the dragon's skin, diving itself deep into its belly just before the beast took another dive. Aislinn stared in horror as it flooded the soldiers in flames. Behind her, Brynjolf released his own arrow, matching her skill almost perfectly. Marilis ran forward, his hands raised in an incantation as bright flames flashed from his right hand and violet light emerged from his left, turning into a dremora lord a hundred feet ahead of him. The dragon would not be fooled. Ignoring the dremora lord, it turned its attention to Aislinn, the most dangerous threat and also most tempting target, the Dragonborn. There was no dragon that would ignore such a challenge, especially when it presented itself on a silver platter. What a blissful coincidence that the Dovakhiin had decided to seek it on her own.

Aislinn frowned with concentration as she nocked another arrow. She released it and it went wide as the dragon soared up and down again, making its way towards her. She ducked as it flew over her, landing just a few feet away. Aislinn gasped when she realized she was at the grasp of its razor-sharp claws, let alone the deep hollow of its mouth encircled by two rows of sharp teeth. She could feel its breath as it reached towards her.

Registering the return of her breath, she Shouted again.

"Wuld Nah Kest!"

The world came swirling around her as she dashed several hundreds of feet backwards, feeling a burning pain as the claws had buried themselves in the flesh of her right arm just before she had released the Words. She gasped slightly and got ready for another shot.

"Need a little help?" a calm voice came from behind. Aislinn turned her head just an inch to catch a glimpse of Karliah in her Nightingale armor over her shoulder. She jerked in surprise at her sudden appearance but quickly regained her composure as a cone of frost from the dragon's mouth shrouded them. She darted to her left, her Nightingale companion following her. The frost was getting to her bones, making her shiver and lose her speed. She watched Karliah nock an arrow and fire it at once and could not help admire her grace and precision. The arrow hit right between the dragon's eyes, making it roar with pain and shake the ground.

A shower of arrows emerged from the skies as the Whiterun army joined the battle. The beast rose again, spreading its wings and casting a dark shadow upon the land below. Aislinn ran, dodging one attack after another, flames replacing frost and frost following the flames, while everyone else kept shooting whatever they had at their disposal at the angered creature. Again, she concentrated on its movements, estimating its course and readying herself for another attack.

"Joor Zah Frul!" she Shouted, her mighty voice spreading across the land, resonating through the flesh and bending the proud trees to the ground.

This time, she hit her target. The dragon let out a furious roar as its wings gave way and it sank to the ground. Aislinn drew her swords, the daedric blade shaking slightly in her right hand as the pain from her injury spread. She hurried to the beast accompanied by a dozen of soldiers in heavy armor with their shields ready in their hands. A swift magic shield spell cast by Marilis saved her when the dragon breathed the next volley of fire. As it ceased, Aislinn took a long leap onto its neck and pierced its scales, burying both of her swords down to their hilts in its flesh. The dragon let out one last tormented cry before it stiffened, its wings lay motionless on the ground.

Aislinn exhaled, sheathed her swords and slid down its neck as the beast's body burned, countless sparks of gold rising from it and encircling her with a humming sound before they entered her body and made her feel that all too familiar impact of raw power becoming one with her soul. She cast her eyes over the mass of people surrounding her, trying not to think about their startled wide-eyed gazes and the paleness of their faces, the crown jewel among them being Brynjolf with his lips tightly pressed together in but a thin line. He was clearly angry. She knew he had a good reason to be but he had to understand. She sighed.

A tall black-furred Khajiit woman in a deep green armor approached them. Aislinn recognized Farkhali, the master agent among all that she knew. She nodded at the members of her small group and they followed her down a winding path to a hollow near a pond surrounded by bushes. It had gotten dark and the shadows of night cast themselves upon the company of four thieves. They checked their surroundings, making sure that no-one had followed them and no-one was around. Then they sat down in a circle.

"So," Farkhali started. "Originally Karliah was supposed to deliver the message but since you're all here, I think it best to tell you myself. As you could see, Jarl Balgruuf had decided to support our decision and send a few soldiers. They were supposed to get their supplies here tonight but none of the caravans arrived. The dragon itself is bad enough but I have to assume that something happened to Ri'saad to whom I gave the letter from the Jarl."

"The dragon wasn't a coincidence," Aislinn said grimly, her brows furrowed. "It had been summoned. Someone ordered it to come here and wreak havoc among the soldiers. They were only lucky that I noticed how strange it was for it to leave every creature on the ground untouched and decided to follow it."

"Yeah," Brynjolf muttered angrily. "No kidding, how lucky."

"Bryn, please…"

It was Bryn again. He wanted to be called Bryn. But not this way. He averted his eyes.

"We have to reconsider the whole campaign," Karliah said resolutely. "I never expected anyone getting ahead of the Thieves Guild like this. The person who did this must be an extraordinarily skilled thief. If this goes on, we could as well get destroyed from within."

"The question is if the hotheaded warhammer legate is going to listen," Aislinn shook her head.

"He'll have to. We can't march on Windhelm with an army of just about a third of their own force and expect to win a siege. Especially if they command dragons."

"What a weird thing," Aislinn said, her mind searching for any logical explanation of what had just happened. "Beside me, I've only met two other creatures who could command dragons so far. One of them was Miraak, the first Dragonborn and a Dragon Priest. The other one was Alduin himself."

A grave silence fell upon them as they imagined the power they were up against. Then Farkhali's deep voice broke it in a grim tone.

"Which reminds me that I have another piece of information I want to share with you. I spied on several of those damned Altmer. And they were talking about their crazy leader being possessed by something. It's just bits and pieces and it didn't make much sense to me but maybe you would be able to make more of it. Apparently the one they call the Hunter gathers some sacrifices and brings them to Elenwen for some kind of dark practice. Those people disappear and no-one hears about them ever again. Elenwen might be practicing some dark rituals up at wherever she resides. Probably more than just simple necromancy. The word has it that she's preparing a weapon."

Necromancy, Aislinn was thinking. A means of communicating with the dead. It can involve bringing them back to life, sometimes attaching their passed soul to a body, preferably living. But the body cannot sustain the link for too long. The stronger the soul, the stronger the owner of the body has to be.

"Kill him. We don't need the guy." They want her alive. Could it be that they want to use her for such a practice? How much difference would her body make? She was the Dragonborn, after all, capable of hosting many souls. Dragon souls no less.

"Elenwen and some other 'initiates' seem to have found something regarding Alduin. Something that they found valuable. I say it's playing with fire and necromancy is a child's play compared to this. He is the Destroyer of Worlds, even his name says so." That was what Sinawen had said to her. Of course, she was not to be trusted, but some of the things she had shared bore a seed of the truth. Then, a sudden realization flashed through her mind and her face went pale as the snow on the highest peak looming over the Throat of the World.

"This might be just a mere speculation of mine," she said slowly, practically forcing the words to overcome the hard lump that had settled in her throat and make themselves heard, "but I'm starting to think that the one leading the Thalmor might be Alduin himself."

And so you have it! I must say that this chapter was unbelievably hard to write. It was really difficult to think of a way to move the story forward smoothly without spilling out too much while at the same time uncovering at least something. Also, you might have noticed a change in my style. I don't think it's that drastic but I did work a huge lot on my narrating and expand my vocabulary by a whole bunch of useful words. I do hope you like it. Please, review it if you can, tell me anything that you might think useful for me, I'd be so happy to hear from you.

I have to thank Myrielle for her story called Dragonrend since it gave me motivation (well, it made me lose it at first due to my stupid inferiority complex, but screw the complexes, I'm not a native speaker and I'm determined to get better at this :D) and I really learned a tremendous lot from it. Her story is really awesome, written in a beautiful language and her characters are so elaborate and detailed that it makes me feel as if I was a part of the story.

Speaking of which, I have to stop reading so many Elder Scrolls fanfictions because Brynjolf is in most of them and every time it's a different Brynjolf. It's confusing me and I tend to forget what my Brynjolf is like. :D

Ah, ok, I'll stop now. I hope you had a good read. As always, thanks for your likes, follows and reviews and stay tuned. :)

Mirwen