Chapter 18: A Knock on the Door
Dragonsreach was in uproar. People kept running back and forth, shouting curses and verbally fighting each other, the present Imperial soldiers with legate Quentin Cipius in their lead restlessly marching the place and spitting curses at whomever they found fit at the moment. Balgruuf was sitting in his throne and pressing his fingers to his temples. All this screaming and cursing was giving him a headache and the fact that it was a lone messenger coming and announcing the fall of the Dragonborn who had caused it was not helping either.
"My Jarl! The word has it that the Dragonborn has fallen! There was a traitor in legate Marcus's camp and he just took her away! It's all over!" he had cried so loud that all Dragonsreach could hear him. Before Balgruuf could say or do anything, everyone had been on their feet, rioting or just bawling in despair.
No, it is not over, he thought to himself, holding onto the last speck of hope that remained in his heart. If the Dragonborn had really failed, there would be an army of pointed-eared freaks in hoods and gilded armors just behind our gates. But there is no army and she has to be alive. She would never fail. Not her.
He would not accept it. The Dragonborn was like a child he had raised on his own. It was his housecarl who had discovered who she was, it was he who had been the first jarl to name her his Thane, and it was him whom she had always come running to when searching for a solution. He knew her well and was absolutely sure that she would definitely see things through. She was his Dragonborn. She could not have failed.
"Damn the Stormcloaks!" he heard legate Cipius roar from the back of the main hall and a pair of loud footsteps shook the wooden flooring. "Skyrim is weakened and it's all thanks to them and the blasted corpse of Ulfric, Oblivion take his spirit! Had he not started the rebellion, Skyrim would have fared just fine and the Thalmor would not be a threat!"
Alduin was not truly defeated and the threat still lies in the air like a dark omen of death. It is he who set the citizens of Skyrim to fight among themselves, it is he who sent the Thalmor to conquer our home.
Cipius could not be more wrong. Balgruuf shook his head and knit his eyebrows. He stood up, his eyes roaming the place and examining every part of it, sliding along the ravaged benches, broken plates and goblets scattered around the table which bore scorched spots caused by the knocked candles, all the way to the entrance door whose leaves were flying shut and open again as people kept coming and leaving as they pleased. He sighed and turned to the doorway on his left leading to a side chamber.
"Farengar!" he called and waited. A Nord mage with a conspicuously long chin in dark grey purple-shaded robes sloppily stitched together appeared in the doorway, a worn-out look in his bronze eyes.
"What do you need, my Jarl?" he asked wearily and the question sounded pure obligatory.
"Chin up, Farengar Secret-Fire," the Jarl spoke firmly. "Your dream is about to come true."
"My dream?" the mage looked clearly confused, tilting his head to the right slightly.
"You are going to be fighting dragons."
Farengar's eyes widened in surprise.
"Dragons? Now? But…"
"Yes, dragons, Farengar. Make all the necessary preparations. We are going into the wilds."
"We? Meaning that you are going as well, my Jarl?"
"That is correct. It is about time I stepped up as a Skyrim citizen and started fighting for our land. This war has gone too far."
Immediately, a number of faces turned to Balgruuf in surprise. A red-haired Dunmer woman with a stern look on her face in a sturdy-looking leather armor and a fine steel blade attached to her left side walked up the stairs leading to the throne and gave him a scolding look.
"You are not serious, Balgruuf, are you? The land is treacherous nowadays, and there are…"
"I know exactly what there is, Irileth," he interrupted her impatiently. "And yet I am always sitting here at the warmth of my own hearth, letting others do my job. I am sick of waiting like a coward until someone comes and kindly rids me of my title and my life."
"That someone could try and they would have me to deal with them. You can send me, but…"
"The Dragonborn is fighting for us!" Balgruuf exclaimed and the sound of his fist hitting the wall behind him emphasized his words.
"The Dragonborn is gone!" Irileth hissed but she was quickly cut off by his waving hand.
"She is not," he said with a rock-solid determination in his eyes. "If she was," his voice now turned into a mere whisper, "then we would know about it. The Thalmor are no fools, they would not waste any time. On this day, we march on Windhelm, like it or not. And we will be victorious."
Another scream came from behind and Balgruuf hit the wall with twice the power as before.
"SHUT IT ALREADY!" he roared, the echo of his voice resonating in everyone's ears a good minute after he had finished. Suddenly, there was a silence and all the people who had been rampaging up until that moment now turned their startled looks to the blonde Nord. The ever so calm man was now furious, his eyes sending dangerous sparks to everyone around.
"The Dragonborn is still fighting for us," he repeated so everyone could hear him clearly. "She is there and she's waiting for us to make a move and clear the passage to Solitude and wherever the blasted Dominion has their headquarters. And so we will act."
"But the city…"
"I believe the Companions will gladly defend it when I am gone. After all, it is their city as well."
"But who's going to run it?" Irileth asked with a slightly irked expression.
"Vignar Gray-Mane."
The crowd went restless again, a number of objections fired at the Jarl, and he raised his hand to restore order.
"Vignar?!" Irileth exclaimed in outrage. "That man is waiting for the chance to take over! He'd sooner stab you right in the heart along with all of us than return the city to its legitimate Jarl!"
"Nevertheless, he is a capable leader and also a highly valued member of the Companions. I will have Jon Battle-Born watch over him to make sure nothing happens. And," he added with a sly smile, "I have a reason to believe he would not be so foolish as to go against the Dragonborn when she returns. As far as I know, she did find a certain lost family member of his. The Thalmor sure won't have good memories of that day." The last sentence was pronounced with a good deal of pride in his voice, revealing much about his attitude towards Aislinn.
"As I find it unlikely to change your mind, I do hope it works out in our favor," Irileth said with a sigh. "You are a man Skyrim would not want to lose."
Balgruuf nodded in appreciation of her concern.
"Proventus," he addressed a well-dressed bald man with sharp look, one of the few who did not seem to be shaken by the recent events. The Jarl's steward knew better and his demeanor exuded experience. Without a word, he turned to Balgruuf and waited for his orders.
"I need you to spread the word. The Dragonborn is alive and she will be back."
The steward paid him a deep bow and headed for the entrance at once. It was legate Cipius this time who decided to raise an objection.
"But my Jarl, Marcus's soldiers clearly saw the Dragonborn being dragged away and…"
"The Dragonborn is alive and she will come back," Balgruuf said resolutely and shot a petrifying glance to the Imperial who backed away timorously. "This is a fact and no-one is to question it."
He felt a hint of satisfaction as he looked at the faces of the people standing in the hall, filled with newly found strength and determination. Of course, he was no fool. He had no evidence that the words he had just spoken were the truth and was well aware of the fact that despite the enormous power she wielded, the Dragonborn was still a human, a young and surprisingly fragile woman on top of that. He was praying in his thoughts for her safety, feeling anxious and disheartened, but the time called for desperate measures and he could not afford to have the morale of his men swept away. And so he put up a brave act and prepared himself for the fiercest battle of his life.
There was no real place to hide. The valley was wide, two mountain ridges surrounding a broad belt of leveled ground where a shimmering river meandered its way to the Solitude Bay, accompanied by a paved road which connected Rorikstead and Dragon Bridge. The sun was shining merrily on the land as if it was laughing at the desperate efforts of a black-furred Khajiit woman trying to conceal her presence. She decided to withdraw to a series of bushes growing on a slope below a cozy rock which was about twice her height, casting an imitation of shadow on them.
This will have to do, she thought as she crouched and her green armor allowed her to blend in, turning the withered color of the bushes and blurring her image as if she was a mere spirit, feeding on the soft shadow of the rock. She looked at the scenery below, holding her breath.
There were several Thalmor officials walking down the road, and by the look of it, they did not seem happy. Farkhali was sure that she would definitely not want to run into them. The thing that disturbed her, though, was the fact that they were looking for something. Or someone. What could they be looking for at this part of the land? Definitely not the Dragonborn, as she had apparently been captured. Still, if Farkhali was right and they were taking her to the embassy north of Solitude, she could see a way to help her. But there was something strange about the embassy. She suspected a portal of some kind, allowing the elves to travel freely between Skyrim and some other land. There were simply too many elves to have come just on a few boats.
The Khajiit thief spotted and Argonian man approaching the elves suddenly, coming from the direction of Dragon Bridge. He seemed light on his feet, hopping blithely without much protection, the only weapon in his possession being a daedric dagger which was skillfully hidden in his right shoe. He wore a long scarlet shirt with purple lining girded by a simple dark leather belt with a modestly ornate buckle and a clean looking pair of white linen trousers. His skin turned the color of deep cyan at his knuckles and at the top of his head and his eyes had a pale shade of what Farkhali suspected to be green.
Now that's a surprise, she thought to herself, her eyes fixed on the newcomer. For him to come out of his snuggery, the situation must be pretty bad in Solitude.
The group of Altmer slowed to a mere stroll when they noticed the Argonian, their leader stepping in front as his hood slid down, revealing a thick tuft of short brown hair, quite uncommon for a high elf. The newcomer halted before him, bowing slightly.
"Lord Arethil, what a pleasure to see you," he gave him a bright smile.
"Spare me your faked hospitality, Gulum-Ei," the elf hissed. "Did you find anything?"
"Never wasting a second, as always," the Argonian chittered and bowed again. "Nothing except a few Forsworn, and mind me telling you, but you know how poor I am with weapons and such."
"There is a traitor on the loose," Arethil said in a dangerously impatient tone, "and a whole lot of agents scattered throughout the land. You are a former member of the Thieves Guild and I would have expected you to present some results by now. Must I remind you what happens to you if we find out that you're covering someone up?"
"Definitely not, my Lord," Gulum-Ei whispered. "But I did receive some news about a secret meeting up in that camp over there," he waved his hand to a pair of ragged tents on the other side of the river which had most probably belonged to a hunter. The moment the Thalmor had set their foot in Skyrim and started the war, the hunters had fled their camps or had fallen victim to the occupation. The elves would not allow anyone to roam the land freely, let alone the hunters who presented a symbol of liberty, ignoring all the rules and laws as they pleased.
"When?" the Altmer inquired, shifting his weight and blocking Farkhali's view of the Argonian.
"Tonight after sunset," Gulum-Ei replied promptly. "I was on my way to make some… preparations for the guests. There's hardly any way to conceal my presence here unless I do."
"Then make preparations for two," Arethil said sharply. "I will be sending an agent of my own."
"I already took that into account, my Lord," Gulum-Ei smiled. "Everything will be ready."
"I'll be on my way then. I am expecting you to report to me immediately if you find something."
Another bow from the Argonian, and the group of elves moved off to the north. Gulum-Ei, the wide smile still on his lips, sat down on a natural platform which rose from the ground by the river bank covered in faded sod, and started humming a merry song. Farkhali rolled her eyes and waited, still in her cover. An hour had passed when he finally jumped up on his feet and looked around, his eyes studying the road and all the access paths. And then he spoke.
"Why don't you come down and have a chat with me, Farkhali, my darling?"
She sighed and stood up, shooting the man a stern look.
"I should have known," she said and started walking towards him.
"As beautiful as ever," he complimented her, ignoring her tone.
"You could have sold me out," she pointed factually, leaning to the platform he had been sitting on a while before.
"Of course. And the moment I'd done that, I would have been cut in pieces. I'm not a fool, kitty. They don't spare those whom they don't need anymore. Not these fellas."
"So what's your plan? I don't suppose there's going to be a meeting up there," she waved at the camp.
"Oh, there is," he said in a mysterious voice and waited for her reaction. She smiled sweetly at him and sent him a seducing look.
"The kitty demands answers," she purred, but made the threat behind it clear as the sky above them.
"All right, all right," he exhaled and she noticed him shiver slightly. "You don't have to be afraid, it's just the Forsworn. I think I can play around that… and they are apparently planning something big and it could serve as a nice distraction for the elves. Not too long ago, I met a certain runaway and she told me when I promised her I'd let her go. I guess people will do anything to save their sorry life."
Now you're one to talk, she commented dryly in her thoughts but kept the statement to herself.
"Say, Gulum-Ei," she whispered softly, "how many secret passages from Solitude do you know of? And I mean the ones that the Thalmor haven't discovered yet."
"I'd say about three of them, one of which leads through the catacombs," he replied and a trace of uneasiness replaced his smile. "Why do you ask?"
"Because," she said in a captivating voice and leaned closer to him, "we are going to save the city."
It took Brynjolf all his strength and skill to persuade Shadowmere to let Sinawen ride on his back. The black stallion kept fighting back, snorting furiously and baring his teeth at the Altmer woman, at one moment almost killing her as he got on his hind legs and prepared to land on her.
"Oh, come on, lad," Brynjolf pleaded. "Be practical, this woman can lead us to the lass."
The horse shot him an enraged glance and swung his tail wildly, and a cracking sound echoed through the land as he whipped the cold air.
"Aye, I know you're angry, and you have every right to be," he said patiently, "but we need to get there in time."
Another snort followed and the fires of Oblivion could not be more dangerous than the flames which blazed in the eyes of this creature of the Void.
"Look, I'm not happy about this either," the thief sighed wearily. "Do you think I'd do this if I saw any other way?"
Although barely looking convinced, Shadowmere stilled himself. He turned to Sinawen and let out a threatening growl, assuring her that he would make a quick work of her if she was to try anything suspicious. Brynjolf nodded and exhaled in slight relief. He waved to Shadowmere and followed Sinawen who pulled herself onto the saddle. The thief's brows furrowed as he sat behind her and grabbed the reins, thinking of Aislinn and how he would prefer it to be her sitting in front of him. He looked at the dragon corpse one last time and shook his head. Normally, she would have devoured its soul, its very essence, the familiar sparks of golden light encircling her body, until just a skeleton remained. Everything and anything reminded him of her and the emptiness in his heart while she was gone.
He heeled Shadowmere softly and the horse darted into a gallop at once, making Sinawen gasp with shock.
"Just what is this horse made of?" she groaned as the cold wind pushed against her face. Brynjolf felt a slight hint of satisfaction when he realized that while he had the sturdy daedric armor to protect him, the only thing standing between Sinawen and the harsh cold weather were her soft Thalmor robes.
"Ask Sithis," he replied with a sly chuckle and gave out a delightful sigh as he felt her shiver.
It took them a day and a half to finally reach their destination. Even when the weather was fine and the sun melted the frost that had covered the land, the Hjaalmarch marshes were still treacherous enough to slow their pace considerably and Shadowmere kept zigzagging between the dangerous ponds that threatened to swallow them once and for all. When they finally managed to cross them, they found themselves miles away from the closest fording place they could use to cross the Karth River. They could see the Blue Palace of Solitude from there, looming over the land as if it was guarding it, its blue domes reflecting light in the afternoon sun. Now that the Thalmor ruled over Skyrim, it seemed menacing, casting a shadow of dark gloom over the Solitude Bay, and the three of them instinctively kept behind the trees and rocks to avoid being spotted.
Traversing the river and the road which led uphill to Solitude, they carefully bypassed the Statue to Meridia from the reverse side, soon reaching the road leading directly to the Thalmor Embassy. Sinawen let out an exhausted sigh.
"I can't believe we managed not to get spotted," she said in astonishment. "That village down there, Dragon's Bridge," she waved southwest, "is the place where I got caught. The Thalmor pass it regularly, and if there is one word I would definitely not choose to describe the path to Solitude, it would be 'safe'. Anyway, it's best if we leave the horse here. The entrance is located atop of a cliff, there won't be a place to hide."
"The horse" whickered in disagreement but stopped nevertheless, allowing the two passengers to dismount safely and lead him to a cozy cave nearby. He turned almost invisible when he closed his crimson eyes. Brynjolf checked the contents of his backpack and took out everything he considered superfluous for the upcoming trip to the heart of evil. The only extra stuff he brought were the things he would equip the lass with to give her a chance to survive. Then he nodded and took a deep breath.
"It's time to go," he said grimly. "You lead the way now."
Sinawen went ahead and started crawling uphill to a mountain blanketed in snow. He covered the trail behind them, his eyes roaming cautiously for the slightest sign of movement around them. He winced faintly when a blackbird came flying to a pine tree nearby but nothing else disturbed their advance. They climbed up a small cliff which rose over the road to the embassy and entered the cavern whose entrance appeared to be a thick block of ice at first sight.
A tunnel opened before them, barely lit by anything but a faint glow of a few light blue crystals on the walls. Brynjolf studied it attentively, noticing a few small recesses on its sides.
"Are those used for anything?" he asked Sinawen quietly.
"The Thalmor don't store anything here, this tunnel is for access only, but occasionally, there are traps planted in them. If you're thinking of hiding there in case someone appears, forget it, you might as well surrender yourself straight away. We'll probably have to kill any passerby who gets in our way."
"I like it less and less," he murmured disgruntledly.
"I'm amazed you ever liked it," Sinawen replied dryly. He shot a furious glance at her.
"I'm amazed you still dare talk like this," he hissed.
Sinawen smirked at him and the thief resisted the urge to clench his fists. Instead, he decided to crawl his way through the tunnel, carefully disarming the traps set to stop any intruder from going any further. He was thinking of leaving them be so no-one would notice a change but chose not to since they would probably be running back this way with the lass afterwards and there was no chance of no-one noticing a missing Dragonborn. His stomach tumbled as he thought of what might lie ahead.
They reached a small cave room with a teleport, dark and gloomy in the center with a circle of violet sparks shimmering at its edges. Brynjolf's eyes narrowed when a hooded figure walked from there but he managed to pull Sinawen out of sight, back to the tunnel, in time. Quickly, he checked the surrounding recesses, disarmed the least dangerous trap and pressed himself to the wall. His companion followed and they waited, holding their breath.
The elf seemed carefree, indifferent to his surroundings, and Brynjolf let him pass, hoping that he would not notice the traps being disarmed. Fortunately, he did not, and the two of them sighed with relief when they heard the sound of sliding door.
"So much luck in one day," Sinawen whispered.
"I do have Nocturnal's blessing, and the lass does as well," Brynjolf snorted. "But it's not over yet."
"Scared?" she teased. His gaze was cold as ice.
"How often do people pass here?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Quite a lot. It's a miracle it has been just this one so far."
"Let's go then," he urged.
"Any plan for when we are at that big round chamber full of hostile elves?" she inquired with a smile.
"Survive and get the lass out of there."
"You're not very creative, you know."
"Your right to talk is denied as of now until I say otherwise," he grunted. The corners of her mouth twitched.
They entered the teleport and Brynjolf suddenly felt like vomiting as the world came swirling around them in myriads of colors. They soon found themselves standing in a cozy chamber inlaid with fine pink marble. They took the only way out presented by a narrow corridor, their shadows dancing on the ground as the light coming from the scarce torches on the walls glimmered. The path ascended steeply and ended with a wooden door. Sinawen suddenly stopped when they reached it.
The door opened and a figure in gilded armor appeared on its sill, gasping in surprise at the sight of two intruders. She briskly raised her hand and saluted.
"Greetings," she said and her tone reminded Brynjolf of the first time they had met. "I've brought Lady Elenwen a visitor she requested." Sinawen's expression was the embodiment of innocence, a mild smile curling on her lips. The elf, a tall Bosmer with long black hair tied in a series of braids and equally black eyes, gave her a confused look. She smiled at the luck. He must have been new here, not well-versed in the Altmeri customs.
"Lady Elenwen is holding a meeting at the moment," he said slowly. "Now is not the…"
"I know," Sinawen interrupted him without the slightest hesitation. "She told me to bring him to the restricted area."
The elf's eyes widened.
"And… your name would be?" he inquired suspiciously.
"Reinya Talwen," she replied and looked the elf straight in the eyes. He gasped and backed away, stepping aside to make way for the two of them.
"I am sorry, my Lady," he bowed. "Enjoy your stay in the Marblous Citadel."
Sinawen nodded and entered the door, and Brynjolf followed.
The room they came into was astonishing. A huge round chamber with a fountain in its center, sparkling in all the colors of the rainbow as the water reflected the rays of sunlight coming from the tall windows with pointed arcs on top situated high on the walls. There were eight of them, seven of them rising above the seven doorways which led to the smaller corridors, and a bigger one above an archway to a larger corridor with tall ornate pillars on its sides opening on Brynjolf's left. The whole place was made of colorful marble and decorated in gold, and it seemed to have a life of its own.
Sinawen looked around and a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she discovered that the chamber was almost empty. A few officials roamed the room but as they noticed the Bosmer bowing to the two of them, no-one paid them much attention. She was almost sure that the meeting was not a coincidence and someone had set it up so they would have a clear passage. This had nothing to do with Nocturnal and her infamous luck, and a thought of stern-looking tall elf with a slender face and ethereal eyes crossed her mind.
She headed off towards the door on the opposite side of the chamber, pacing calmly and steadily. Brynjolf exhaled as the door closed behind them.
"Just what in Oblivion is this place?" he whispered. "Where are we?"
"Right now?" Elenwen asked and Brynjolf raised a brow at the question. "Probably in Cyrodiil."
"What do you mean, probably? Don't you know where your… headquarters, or whatever this is, are?" he queried.
"You see, this place is… not quite stable," she explained, her brows furrowing. "Meaning it moves from time to time."
"It moves? Like… this whole building moves?"
"Well, it changes its location."
"And no-one has noticed a thing?"
"It is well hidden. There is strange magic in it and no-one really knows where it comes from. There might be someone who knows some of its history but we are not taught these things. They are considered a national secret."
Brynjolf shook his head in astonishment.
"Never in my life have I imagined something like this," he breathed.
"Let's go," she urged. "The meeting saved us a fight but the ones down there won't be this friendly. And if a word spreads that Reinya Talwen is here, someone's bound to come after us eventually."
"Who is Reinya Talwen anyway?" the thief asked as they started walking down a deserted corridor similar to the one leading to the teleport.
"A Squire," she said. "One of Elenwen's favorites," she added when Brynjolf gave her a confused look. "And she's permanently on a mission."
He let out a sigh, thinking of all the consequences this could have. It was a wonder that they had gotten this far and he was not sure how much further he could push his luck. They continued in silence until they saw a wooden door before them. Brynjolf cussed in his thoughts when he saw it.
"It's locked," Sinawen stated bluntly.
"Oh, you don't say," he snorted.
"Why so edgy? This should be a piece of cake for the likes of you, shouldn't it?"
"Except this lock is quite unusual and I'm not Mercer Frey."
"Who?"
"Never mind."
Brynjolf bent down and pulled out a lockpick. His fingers moved swiftly but the lock was sturdy and its structure was so complicated that the lockpick broke before he could even start studying the mechanism, the next one followed and the third one as well. He sighed.
"Say, can you reshape those icebolts of yours when you cast them?" he turned to Sinawen.
"No, I don't think so," she shook her head. "I don't suppose we can just bust it open?"
"It's protected with magic. Nocturnal, this is really your time to shine," he added with a whisper.
He raised his head and his eyes wandered around, skimming the marble walls and the torches attached to them. They fixed on the closest one, studying the holder, and sudden interest showed in Brynjolf's face.
"That's it," he said. "She really is the Lady Luck. I need you to freeze that holder so I can break the wire that supports it on its edges. Can you do that?"
"Freeze it? If someone wasn't so precautious as to protect even the torch holders here with strange magic, I can break it for you in no time," she laughed.
"Go ahead then," he encouraged.
There were two quick shots of sparkling icebolts, leaving a frost trail in the air, and the wire came loose. Sinawen took the torch in her hand and held it over the door to illuminate it while Brynjolf crouched again and put the wire inside the lock. He turned and twisted, carefully analyzing the structure and the mechanism. The wire was rather pliable, allowing him to shape it accordingly without much effort. Soon he discovered that the keyhole split on the inside in four directions, meaning that the key would have to be something stretchable with four foldable protrusions. It meant that if he was to open the lock, he would have to use four lockpicks at once and they would have to be bent in the middle. He cussed again.
Inspecting the wire, he decided it was too soft to be used as a lockpick. Then, a sudden idea flashed through his mind and he pulled one of Aislinn's daedric gauntlets out of his backpack. A number of thin horn-like parts stuck out of it as a decoration, some of them too wide but some of them the exact size that he needed. He tried to insert one of them into the lock, twisting it carefully until he heard a clicking sound. Something had fallen into place there. He repeated the procedure three more times. Now he had to figure how he would use four of them at the same time. He turned to his companion with a pleading look.
"Could you break this off?" he asked.
"You want me to break a piece of daedric armor?" she stared at him in disbelief. "I'm not a dragon, I highly doubt it."
"Try it at least," he insisted. She did, without much success, but Brynjolf noticed an almost imperceptible groove appear on its surface.
"It will work," he nodded. "Continue. I'll need four of them."
"Are you kidding me? We're going to be here for ages!"
"Or we might pack our things and go back the way we came here."
She sighed and shot another icebolt at the gauntlet. And another. And again. A good hour had passed when four thin horn-like objects rested in Brynjolf's palm and Sinawen leaned to the wall behind her, breathing heavily in exhaustion.
"Now I need you to hold onto two of them and help me get them inside," he told her. She growled but did as he requested. After a few minutes of twisting and trying to coordinate their moves, the lock finally gave in with a click and the door opened. Brynjolf exhaled wearily and entered a round chamber, brightly lit by a goat horn lamp which hung from the high ceiling. Faded images of dragons decorated it, spreading to the walls beneath. The room had the shape of a regular hexagon with its walls slightly rounded and there was a wooden table of the same shape in its center, several ornate upholstered chairs scattered around it. There were no windows, only three doorways opened on the opposite side of the one Brynjolf and Sinawen had come from. Suddenly, a cacophony of sounds reached their ears and they froze.
They heard someone screaming from the door on the left, and a number of elven voices shouting one over another. There was a fight, apparently, and then an elder woman with wavy white-blonde hair and a worn-out look in her face dressed in the deep blue Thalmor robes appeared in front of them, running in their direction. She stopped at the sight of them, her eyes widened in surprise. Brynjolf immediately put his hand on Aislinn's daedric sword.
"By the Grace of Auri-El!" she gasped. "You… have you come for the Dragonborn?" She threw a quick glance at the doorway behind her and then continued before they could speak a word. "She's down there, take the door in the middle. Go, save her! Hurry and stop this madness before we all get annihilated!"
Brynjolf wanted to say something but it was Sinawen this time who pulled him along, darting towards the middle doorway. As they entered it, he noticed a flash of light and then the woman's body hit the ground with a thud. One last word escaped her lips before she died.
"Renadil."
The thief closed his eyes in horror but reopened them again, forcing himself to concentrate on the path before them. The corridor was wide, spanned by a round ceiling. The walls, unlike the rest of the complex, were made of massive blocks of coarse sandstone, the only decorations being the crevices in between them and the torches that lit the place. The path descended even deeper below and Brynjolf suspected they were underground. And then, a terrifying scream full of sheer pain and madness cut through the air, making his blood run cold. His face turned a pale shade of green and his eyes widened in shock. He froze and turned to Sinawen.
"Tell me… please tell me my ears were deceiving me just now…" he whispered weakly.
"They were not," she shook her head and he could see her shiver. "Your Dragonborn is going through a torture."
And so the longest chapter so far is over. I hope you liked the insight into Balgruuf's mind and his relationship with Aislinn. I always liked Balgruuf when playing Skyrim and kind of took him for my papa there and so I made him one in the story as well. I consider him one of the most intelligent beings in Skyrim and therefore I wanted to give him a proper place in the story. :)
Do you remember Gulum-Ei? It's not his real name, though, but he introduces himself as such in the game. I met him by accident when I played Skyrim last time and tried to study Solitude to be able to describe the place in the story, and that's when I decided I would make him an essential character. Well, he is a scoundrel to the core but you know Farkhali. She has a way with the guys. (And sometimes with women as well. :D)
So that's about it. I hope you liked the chapter and I promise that Aislinn will be present in the next one. Finally!
Also, thanks to Twillin for pointing out that the first letters in some words should be capitalized (e.g. Daedra). Sorry for making mistakes, I will try to correct them as soon as possible.
Thanks for sticking with the story, reviews etc. much appreciated.
Mirwen