Chapter 14: The Great Plans

There was silence, deep and heavy as the harsh reality sank into the hearts of the four thieves sitting in a circle, shrouded by darkness of the night that surrounded the hollow they had made their temporary headquarters. Then, the beautiful Khajiit with fur that could compete with the night in terms of darkness and eyes like two ice-blue marbles spoke with a tremble in her melodic voice.

"What is your plan, Aislinn? You're the dragon expert and the boss here. And the official leader of the expansion, let's not forget. So what are you going to do? Anything is possible now. I wouldn't be surprised if we were standing up against a dragon army. I find it, well… disturbing at least."

"To say that 'disturbing' is an understatement would be a huge understatement," Aislinn replied dryly, picking her fingers unconsciously. She hissed a little when a sharp pain in her right arm reminded her of her still untreated injury as she tugged it. Raising her left hand, she cast a quick healing spell and directed it towards the wounded limb. She knew a scar would remain as she hadn't treated it right away. Brynjolf jerked slightly when he took notice of the spell, his eyes piercing through her with yet another worried look. "I need to take care of him as soon as possible. As much as I hate to do this, I'll have to leave the leadership to someone else and find the Elder Scroll that would take me to that cursed tomb. And hope that I will find what I'm looking for there."

"You realize a lot of people are going to hate you for leaving them when they need you the most?" Farkhali questioned in a neutral tone.

"Well, they can either hate me or succumb to the Thalmor. People hating me is the least of my worries right now, I'd say."

"So about the invasion…"

"Go back to Balgruuf, Farkhali, and tell him what happened before he accuses you of treachery. I'll write a letter to him so take it with you."

"What about Marcus?" Karliah inquired, her voice calm as ever. "Who's going to tell him?"

"I will head there before setting for Hjaalmarch. Those dumbheads of soldiers will need a great deal of persuading before they trust another leader. And I don't think the peace between Stormcloaks and Imperials would last for more than a week."

"All right. I'd say we take off immediately. Sleeping horseback might not be the best but time is against us."

A couple of nods followed and they all rose to walk back the winding road to the Whiterun encampment. Marilis was tending to the wounded soldiers when they arrived, waving at them in welcome. Aislinn joined him, looking solicitously at a pile of singed corpses that had been risen a few hundred feet from the camp.

"Welcome back," he said, nodding slowly. "We… didn't really get to talk too much before the fight broke out. How fare you?"

"Could be worse," she muttered as she knelt down and raised both of her hands to cast a healing spell on a soldier who lay by her feet. "Thanks for saving my life out there."

"Oh, don't mention it. You have just saved a whole army," he winked at her merrily. "Few would bother pursuing a dragon like that but you did. I'm honored I could be of service to such a valiant hero." She felt a slight flush make its way to her cheeks.

"You're overestimating me," she smiled at him.

"Surely not," he returned her smile tenfold. "To have such a strong will, always be there for the people no matter how hard the times, is a virtue not many can pride themselves on. I have a feeling this has not been easy for you. It is written all over your face. You are struggling, putting up a fight deep inside. And yet you fight so fiercely in the battle, leading the people to victory. I am sure you will prevail over your inner demons in time."

Aislinn stared at him for a moment, unable to avert her gaze. He wore a gentle, encouraging expression, his smile melting her heart. Somehow he saw right through her and she wasn't ready for it. She felt tears well up in her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. He put up his hand and wiped them off tenderly, making her cheeks turn the color of roses.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Aislinn said shakily.

"It's all right," he shook his head. "Everyone needs comforting from time to time."

"Thank you," she whispered. He gave her an understanding nod.

She took a deep breath and slapped herself in the face lightly before proceeding through the camp. She soon found Hadvar, the very first person she had talked to after escaping from Helgen. He had broken his arm but welcomed her with a smile on his face.

"Long time, no see," the brown-haired Nord said. "This didn't really go the way we had planned it to."

"It sure didn't," Aislinn replied a little disconcertedly. "I will have to report to legate Marcus and think of another solution. The sooner we get there the better. Could you provide three horses for us? We will leave the ones we rode here in your care. There are just two, however, since my escort kind of left his steed elsewhere."

"Pardon me for prying like this but weren't there five of you in your group?" he asked curiously.

"One of them is going back to Whiterun and she will probably use her own means to get there. As for me, I don't need to change my horse. He is a kind of special breed that doesn't tire so easily."

She earned a raised brow from Hadvar but he did as she requested nevertheless. Soon the group of three thieves and one mage found themselves riding their horses back the way they had come from, silver dust trail leading their way and speeding their steeds tremendously. Aislinn noticed Karliah and Brynjolf exchange meaningful looks several times and started wondering what that was about, but since they had been partners in crime for many years even before Mercer Frey had taken over the Guild, she suspected they would have a few secrets just between themselves. Still, curiosity was slowly taking over her and deep inside she decided that she would unveil this mystery in time.

"Just where have you been all this time?!" legate Marcus exclaimed furiously the moment he saw Aislinn and her company raise the curtain covering the entrance to his tent. "Is this some kind of joke to you? War is upon us and you don't have anything better to do than roam around the Eastmarch border and Shout to your heart's content?!"

"A dragon cut off the reinforcements from Whiterun," Aislinn explained briefly, closing her eyes before the enraged Imperial.

"What?" he stared at her in disbelief.

"A dragon. It was sent there and attacked the Whiterun army knowing far too well that they were headed for Windhelm."

"And I'm supposed to believe that? Next time you tell me mudcrabs eat horses?"

"It's true," Brynjolf said calmly. "I've seen the beast with my own two eyes. It didn't stop for a hunt, just went straight from Greenwall to Eastmarch and attacked their men."

"So…" Marcus hesitated a little before sorting out his thoughts and putting them into words, "you want to tell me that someone is actually sending dragons to annihilate us?"

Aislinn drew breath before answering. "We suspect that it's the World-Eater and he's working with the Thalmor."

Marcus's eyes widened for a moment. Then he shook his head, smirking in denial.

"This is just ridiculous!" he roared. "As far as I know, you, the Dragonborn, have defeated the black dragon, so how could it be him? And that he would be in league with the Dominion? Oh, don't make me laugh!"

"I was wrong," Aislinn said silently, trembling with anxiety. "Alduin is most probably alive and searching for me. Please, you have to believe us. I wouldn't dare make such a joke. Not when there's a whole country on the line. Maybe even the whole world."

The legate's face went pale at her words and his expression turned from outraged to serious.

"I have a hard time believing your words, Dragonborn," he said. "I cannot afford to make any assumptions without being presented with a solid evidence. However, you are an essential figure in this war and I cannot afford to ignore your message either. I will call a meeting and we will discuss what you have to say. In the meantime, I would propose you get some rest since it seems you haven't slept much at nighttime. And leave your armor here, I'll tell my smith to tend to it. That must have been quite some fight to leave such marks on a daedric armor. Is your arm all right?"

"It's fine," Aislinn said appreciatively. "Thank you for your concern."

"A fine warrior you are," he nodded. "Off you go, then. Sleep well."

She bowed a little and left the tent, heading to her own. Marilis smiled at her encouragingly and she averted her eyes. Brynjolf snorted silently and gave the Dunmer a sour look.

In her tent, Aislinn found a spare set of armor and put it on. It was a steel armor, one she wouldn't put much trust in, especially when fighting dragons. Suddenly a wave of appreciation ran through her as she realized how helpless the regular soldiers and city guards would feel when a real threat appeared. They had no real protection, and yet they were brave enough to engage in a war against the Thalmor and faithfully protect their land. It was something she had to admire. With a portion of nostalgia, she remembered her old stalhrim armor and the one she had made for Brynjolf. They were somewhere in Cedran's cellar, if the elves had not found them. In her thoughts she swore that one day she would take them back.

She carried her daedric armor to the smith, watching the soldiers in the camp attentively. They made way for her, some of them bowing or nodding, some pretending they were not there. There was a friendly fist fight near one of the fires and she watched curiously as a muscly Redguard knocked his Nord opponent to the ground. Then she noticed Karliah and Brynjolf sitting by another fire, slightly secluded from the others, with tankards of beer in their hands. They seemed to be deep in silent conversation, both of them wearing a slightly amused expression. She was sure they had not noticed her standing there and used it to her advantage. She circled the nearest tent and crouched. Sneakily she moved past the tent and behind a withered oak tree. From there she carefully trod to a rock that lay just a few feet from the fire, until she heard Karliah talking.

"Two hundred," she said.

"C'mon, don't be a cheapskate. Three hundred and make it count."

"Oh, fine," she chuckled. "Three hundred Septims for whoever first gets their hands on it. And," she added in a mysterious voice, "three hundred and fifty if our boss doesn't find out."

"You're on!"

Aislinn smiled. There was no doubt about it. These two were planning a theft right under her nose, thinking they might outflank their boss. But they were a hundred years early to do that and she would thoroughly enjoy their surprised faces when she claimed the prize. But for now, she was going to play their little game and have fun watching them try hard.

He was marching through the sunlit corridor, his dark blue hood deep in his face, barely noticed by the passerby high elves or any other individuals roaming the passage. He liked to keep it that way and prided himself on being able to blend in and never attract unwanted attention. Despite his unusually tall stature, and overall unusual appearance for that matter, people mostly barely knew he was even there, their gazes not stopping at him, letting him slip away as though he was just a fly, silently buzzing in the air around them, one of the many, a mere part of the crowd, not worthy of being noticed. But still waters run deep and he knew better than anyone that this sense was false. He was anything but ordinary, never straying from his path, always seeing his matters to the end. He only desired one thing and that was power. Power over everything and anything. Not even the World-Eater himself would be able to stop him. Not if he obtained the power of the Dragonborn. Unfortunately for him, at this very moment, someone else was doing everything in their power to beat him to it, and he knew that someone was very close.

The setup had been perfect. He would carry the pearl claw to Riften and let it be stolen by the thieves. To his astonishment, they had sent a mere child for it, most inexperienced above all. In spite of that, he had to admire the boy's courage and quick grasp of the situation. He had worked swiftly and would probably have deceived any other individual, especially had they not anticipated the theft. Not him, but it did not matter. The Dragonborn had gotten her hands on the claw, headed to Markarth and obtained all the information she needed. The only obstacle had been Paarthurnax, the blasted dragon who had known too much. Of course she would have chosen him over any other dragon. She had trusted him like nobody else, never mind the irony of him being the brother and former right hand of Alduin himself, the traitor who had lost his insight into true power, and yet, he had somehow managed to pose a threat which was not wise to ignore. The dragon who had mastered himself and who, above understanding his own essence, had understood the way of mortals. A disgrace to dragons but a formidable enemy of those in seek of power. But not anymore.

He was walking the corridor at a measured pace, his light leather boots barely making any sound on the marble floor. Between the tall pillars decorated with gilded leaf ornaments on both sides stood others, quietly talking or hurrying to either side of the corridor. Behind the pillars on his left, a flood of sunlight was making its way through the tall tessellated windows, turning the color of light green and blue as it reached the glass. Before him opened a pointed archway to a round chamber with a fountain at its center. This was an amazing piece of architecture, combining the imposing style of the Imperials of Cyrodiil with the detailed craftsmanship of the Altmer, or rather, Aldmer of the old times. It was overflowing with ancient magic which allowed its occupants to transport from it to a number of portals all over Tamriel. Too bad the Dominion had wasted its last portal on the embassy in Skyrim, for he wouldn't allow for them to take over the land. Not like this anyway. And it would be another millennium until the next portal was ready.

Traversing the corridor, he passed under the archway and entered the chamber behind it. There were seven wooden doors along its perimeter leading to other corridors. They opened and closed as the elves around him passed through them, all except the second one on his left. He raised his hand and cast a spell, whispering an incantation in his mind. I am but a shadow on the wall, passing unknown to the worlds, cast away from the Time. The eyes of living shall not see and the dead shall not speak. Silence be my witness. He waited until he felt a vibe buzz through his body and around it. Then he slowly turned left and took the second door. He proceeded through the dark and narrow corridor lit dimly by scarce torches attached to the walls which descended steeply until it reached another wooden door. He stopped before it, leaning to the wall on the left. He took a deep breath and cast another spell. Then he heard voices from behind the door.

"Donniath, my dear," spoke a female elven voice, deep and a little crispy, indicating no small amount of wisdom and experience. Still, there was a touch of uneasiness in it, anxiousness that drove the woman to the edge of breaking down. This was Elenwen, the First Emissary of the Thalmor in Skyrim and the one rumored to be possessed. He never believed rumors until he made sure of them for himself but from the sound of her voice, it certainly seemed that way. "What a pleasure to see you, really. What brings you here this time?"

"Your next vessel lies ready in the Sanctum," another female voice responded. This one was quiet, reserved and very sharp. It reeked with danger and he knew instinctively that this individual, unlike most, might be able to present a challenge for him. Still, this was an Argonian voice. So the Hunter was an Argonian, if it was a single person. And surely there was no way an Argonian would be named Donniath, unless she had been raised by a Dunmer family. A very old Dunmer family to say the least. But that surely wasn't the case. She was clever enough to not reveal her name to anyone, not even her current boss. So the Hunter probably had a secret.

"Excellent!" Elenwen exclaimed affectedly. "Is there… anything else you want with me?"

"Ah, yes. The invasion on Windhelm. It's supposed to take place three days from now but since I managed to cut the troops sent by Balgruuf from their supplies, I don't think it's going to happen. And it seems that one of our agents has managed to infiltrate the Riften army. I believe it's not going to take long until we capture the Dragonborn and present her to the Master."

"Great. Go and see to it."

"As you command, my lady."

As he knew the Argonian would soon come out of the room, he rushed back through the corridor. The illusion was still on but he did not want to risk being discovered by the Hunter. She was smart and capable, and there was the possibility of her being able to see through such spells. He entered the round room with the fountain again and headed for the door situated right opposite of where he was standing. Passing through another dark corridor, almost identical to the one he had just left, he entered a small chamber with a teleport, glimmering in violet at its edges while absorbing the light and matter in its center. He walked inside and the world came swirling in all colors, fragments of hazy images passing him in an astonishing speed. He soon found himself in a small hidden cave underneath the Thalmor Embassy.

Walking down a narrow tunnel and pulling a lever at the end of it, a hidden door slid open before him, leading to a fairly low cliff not far from the entrance to the embassy. He jumped down on the road below it, darkness of the night shrouding his figure, in a graceful leap, his blue robes flying about, and headed down. His destination was Solitude where he arrived a few hours later, having had to fight a harsh snowstorm that came down to him in merciless blows, whipping his face and freezing his limbs. A few stamina potions had helped him pace up but the road still took longer than usual. Finally, he had the city gate behind his back, having had no trouble entering the city the Aldmer he was. The snowstorm had ceased its raging, for in Solitude the skies were always clear. It seemed like strange and powerful magic was in effect here, protecting the city from all kinds of mishap. One day, he would find its source and devour it, but that would have to wait. The Dragonborn was his top priority now.

He took the main road paved with cobblestones, passing the solid looking stone buildings of the shops and the deserted marketplace on his right, walked under the great archway which served as a part of the city fortification and proceeded around a church-like building with a cozy tower on top of it. On its reverse side was a door. His right hand groped in his robes, pulling out a silver key. He slid it in the lock, opened it quietly and entered the building.

He traversed the dimly lit antechamber and entered a hallway with a wooden floor. On his left was a staircase leading down to a corridor. He reached the door at the end of it and slid behind it to enter the catacombs. He found himself in a vast cave, a few sets of broad pillars on either side, leading to areas filled with corpses and coffins. Right in front of him by the wall opposite the entrance was a table lit by candlelight, a dark-haired beautiful she-elf sitting on the chair beside it.

"You sure took your sweet time," she commented dryly, crossing her legs and leaning to the table.

"Glad to see you too, Sinawen," he replied in the same tone and threw his arms about in a phony welcoming gesture. He slid his hood off and a flood of dark gold-colored hair spread around his shoulders. He looked at Sinawen with a pair of dark eyes whose color was hard to tell. They seemed black from one angle but blue from another, ethereal violet sparks occasionally lining them. His face was slender, his nose slightly curved like an eagle's beak and his lips more of a thin line. Hunger mirrored in his face, one which could not be satisfied with any kind of consumables.

"So, how did it go? Anything interesting?"

"Our dear Dragonborn is a thick-headed idiot who just keeps straying from the task. Apparently she thinks she has time to waste," he snorted as he sat down opposite Elenwen and took a mug of water resting on the table.

"I thought you'd tell me something I didn't know," she smirked. "What do you expect from someone who trusts a complete stranger who just acts all suspicious and stuff. Well, of course, trust a suspicious person because a real enemy wouldn't try to act suspicious. Good riddance. I don't like her thief friend, though."

"She really plans to lead the invasion," he emphasized. "And Elenwen has an agent among the Imperials. Presumably a capable one, since the one who delivered the message to Elenwen was the Hunter. She's an Argonian assassin and I wouldn't take her lightly. They have a knack for performing flawlessly in this field and this one seems exceptional even among them. And if she vouches for the agent, then they must be damn good."

"Still, they want the Dragonborn alive. There is the possibility of waiting until she gets captured and then snatching her from under their nose."

"I have my doubts about that. They mentioned some master of theirs and also that she would become a vessel for him."

"You don't mean…" Sinawen's eyes widened.

"We have to take the worst into account. If they found Alduin, there's the possibility of never being able to touch her again. Elenwen's out of her mind already, I wouldn't be surprised if she was going to sacrifice Mundus to him."

"So… what do we do?"

"We win the war."