Chapter 43: Dancing in the Rain

Farkhali woke up to nigh absolute darkness. She was lying on the cold ground just as she had fallen there and it took all her strength to raise herself on her elbows. Her head was spinning and her body aching. She felt every wound she had gained from the Hunter, and a strange haze dulled her senses due to the previous mental torture. She groaned as she clumsily sat up, trying to figure where she was.

It was a sewer, one she had never been to before, but if her estimation was correct, she had not been carried too far from the place where she had been found. Judging by the annoyingly damp air and the dripping sound of water coming from the mold covered ceiling, she guessed she was somewhere under Lake Ilinalta or the White River. She considered herself extremely lucky, for no one had come to look for her so far.

She shivered. She was cold, as there was no layer of protection covering her body and not even her fur seemed enough to keep her warm. She sighed and looked around, grateful she had been born a Khajiit who see in the dark. On the ground next to her lay a short wand. She picked it up curiously, recognizing the deadly tool her tormentor had been using on her. It was elegant, slim, made in dark, smooth wood. She spun it around her finger, wondering how such a small piece of wood could inflict so much pain. There was no pocket she could put it in or belt she could attach it to, so she just clutched it, forcing herself to stand.

Immediately the world turned upside down and she leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. When everything stilled, she slowly let go, daring to take a few uncertain steps. She gritted her teeth as each step was painful and made her stagger every now and then, but kept on walking nevertheless. A skeever assaulted her suddenly and she lunged at it ponderously with her claws. Once again, she was grateful for who she was.

"Tough luck, rodent," she snorted to herself.

She proceeded along a channel that formed the center of the fairly low, dark passage. Inadvertently, she covered her nose. The water smelled of decay and rot and she made sure not to come in contact with it, or ataxia would be the least of her worries. On top of that, the omnipresent sound of dripping water was driving her crazy. Despite the pain pulsing through her body, she sped up.

Fortunately, the sewer did not fork into more directions and she soon found herself struggling against the bars that kept her from reaching the surface. They were locked, but so rusty it did not take much to make them crumble. She crawled outside, drawing the fresh air in big gulps, and hugged the grass that spread to her left.

She lay there for a good while, enjoying her newly found freedom and staring into the sky. It looked as though another storm was coming, but for now, beams of sunlight shot through the gaps in the thick clouds and covered the ground with huge circles of golden glow. The air was still down here, but she knew that would not last for long, as the sun beams were moving quickly. She was temporarily blinded before another one passed. Her ears could make out the flipping sound of wings as several birds flew close to the ground, on the hunt for insects swarming around Lake Ilinalta.

She slowly sat up. Before her spread the partially murky and partially sparkling water surface, and from its blue depths a fish stuck out its head occasionally, joining the birds in the hunt. Farkhali's eyes followed a dark cloudlet which, on closer look, was made up by hundreds of tiny flies. It slowly moved towards the lake and the Khajiit silently crawled after it, stopping just one step outside of the water. Her gaze turned to the reflection of the swarm in the water and she waited motionlessly. Then a barely visible circle appeared on the mirroring surface and she jumped. A moment later, she was holding a fine-looking trout. She grinned to herself and retreated back to the grass.

A moment later, the trout was roasted in a cone of flames coming from Farkhali's fingers, and just like that, she dug into it ravenously, not minding the smaller, tender bones that occasionally came with the juicy meat.

Feeling refreshed, she finally decided to wager on visiting Aislinn's old house, despite knowing it was deserted. She took a dive into the lake, shooting a worried look at the darkening sky. The wind was slowly rising and rippling the water around her. A slaughterfish attempted to get the better of her but she simply kicked it away and sped up. At last, the lake was behind her and before her stood Lakeview Manor in all its crumbling beauty.

Farkhali noticed that the house had been raided several times and most of the valuables had been taken away. She walked through what might as well been called a ruin, keeping her eyes on the floor to avoid tripping over the clutter covering everything from floor to top of the cupboards. However, Farkhali did not need pricey trinkets or powerful artifacts, and soon she found what she was looking for. A simple set of leather armor, a piece of dark blue cloth she could use as a sarong, and a thin sharpened steel dagger.

She spent a while adjusting the belts and buckles to her proportions and nodded to herself in satisfaction when she was done. The wand now had a new place at her hip, hidden in the folds of her sarong. The finishing touch were the boots which she stripped of the soles and reinforced with a few strings of leather. She exited the house as soon as she was finished, turning towards her new destination – the city of Falkreath. She was still angry, so angry it made her terrifyingly calm. Balgruuf's city was in danger, she had been caught and all that because of an idiotic jarl who could think of nothing more than his own position and profit. She would make sure to remind Tullius of the little fact that it had been his idea to let him rule over the hold. For now, however, she would take things into her own hands.

The wind outside howled in the treetops and it started drizzling. The clouds grew darker and thicker and the land was cast in shadows which made Farkhali smile in delight. By the time she reached the city gate, the drizzle had turned into a downpour, drowning every sound in the splashing of raindrops falling onto the soaked, muddy ground. She did not in the least envy the guards around the city who had to rely on the fact that no one would wander around in a country full of angry elves, much less in this weather.

She had to give it to Aislinn that her house had the best position it could. Built on top of a hill to oversee the lake on one side and the road on the other, so no visitor could come completely unexpected. Falkreath, on the other hand, was a strategic disaster. Open to assaults from the hills and to floods in rainy seasons when waters washed the surrounding rocks and poured right into that innocent creek that ran through the city, the only advantage it had was its positioning in the Empire. Fortunately, that one bright side was not Farkhali's concern while the other two worked in her favor. And just as she had expected, half of the guards were busy with a flood while the other half could barely see in the deluge.

Silently as the cat she was, she navigated through the city, rounding building after building, not minding the water that poured from the thatch roofs onto her head in long, sparkling cords.

She remembered the time when she had first entered Skyrim and experienced its moody weathers. The cold had struck her and despite having been born with a coat of rich black fur, she had struggled against the stinging snow, ice cold rain and sharp wind which, often combined, had a habit of slowly working their way under one's skin and deep to their bones. Then one day, a wise man had told her to go and bathe in the snow. Upon her shocked expression, he had laughed and said: "Make the cold your friend and never will it bother you again." That statement was the truest thing she had ever heard.

The house she was looking for was conveniently situated just past the gate, next to a sawmill, currently quiet and deserted. With a few careful stops to avoid being spotted by the elves and guards fighting the water, she made her way there and sneakily slipped inside. As expected, a tall, hooded man with olive skin was present, as well as three other people, two men and a woman, all Nords. Upon her arrival, the attention of all four of them turned to her. The hooded man raised a brow.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked in the smooth, elvish accent that Farkhali was slowly coming to despise. "Who are you and how dare you trespass—"

"I was sent here to deliver a message concerning the Hunter," Farkhali said without hesitation. "This…" she looked around as though she was inspecting the place, "isn't the right place, is it?"

The elf twisted his face in exasperation. "No, that would be the jarl's longhouse. Huge building with banners. Haven't you been told?"

"Ah. No, excuse me, I had to leave in a rush. Thank you for your guidance." She bowed and turned back to the door. The elf tried to call to her. Faster than light, she drew her dagger, made a quick pirouette and slit the surprised elf's throat. The Nord woman screamed and Farkhali quickly jumped to her side, covering her mouth.

"Shhh!" she hissed urgently. "You don't want more of them to come, do you?"

"What is happening here?" asked a balding man with a long grey full beard which most Nords would be willing to pay for with their hand. "Who are you? Are you here to rescue us?"

"Somewhat," Farkhali said with a shrug and pulled her hand away from the trembling lady. The woman sank into a chair, eyes fixed on the corpse. "It is time you returned where you belong, Jarl Dengeir."

"What?"

"I'll explain in a minute, but first, tell me everything that's happened here ever since the Thalmor took over. May I?"

She pointed to a bed which screamed at her in invitation. The two men nodded and she sat on it, resisting the urge to lie down. The balding man whom she had addressed as Jarl Dengeir seated himself on a nearby chair while the other one, a grey-haired sturdy man whose wrists were as thick as Farkhali's thighs, stayed on his feet, resting his back against one of the walls.

"Everything?" Dengeir asked. He was handed a mug of some dark liquid by the woman who had finally managed to settle down and nodded his thanks. "What do you mean? Who are you anyway?"

"A friend. And by everything, I mean everything. What that lousy bastard Siddgeir did, what the elves did… every piece of information you know. Don't tell me you have no idea what goes on outside?" She tilted her head and gave him a piercing look. She decided to put just a tiny bit of magic in it. His shudder amused her.

"I… yes, of course I do. I'm just glad you didn't kill my informant."

"I am a people person," Farkhali stated matter-of-factly. "I know a high caliber Thalmor scum when I see it."

There was a momentary quiet before Dengeir laughed and his two companions followed. "There is this Bosmer that came from Riverwood a while ago, Faendal," he started explaining. "He was interrogated, first by what was left of the Penitus Oculatus, then by the Thalmor. They claimed he knew one of the remaining Blades and were very interested in his connections and everything concerning Riverwood. He somehow managed to convince them that he was one of them and worked for the Dominion ever since. They never trusted him enough to put him in charge here, but he comes to guard me from time to time and brings news."

Dengeir took a sip from his mug and shifted to a more comfortable position. "There is not much though. Most of the Thalmor's operations are highly confidential, he can't access the information on them. He informed us when the Dominion officials were about to come. Thanks to him, none of us resisted. There was no taking over, we surrendered ourselves because we knew they wouldn't hesitate to slaughter us.

"I was immediately put under house arrest. At first, they guarded me heavily, but I never said or did anything to catch their attention. Their security loosened after a while and Faendal sometimes managed to pass me some intel. Apparently, they're attacking Whiterun. I thought it madness until I heard that Balgruuf withdrew most of his forces from the city. Can't decide who's the mad one here." He let out a bitter laugh.

"So how many soldiers are left in Falkreath?" asked Farkhali and looked around, as though she could count them like that.

"Not many, but enough to keep us in check."

"And how many trained soldiers who could put up a fight if they had a weapon in their hand?"

"Miss, what are you planning?"

"Answer my question."

"I don't know," the former jarl threw up his hands. "You can't trust anyone these days! Even if we manage to give them weapons, we wouldn't kno—"

"How about we try?"

"B-But…"

"Were you always such a coward, Dengeir?"

The man looked genuinely shocked at the sound of his name. His two companions both furrowed their brows and the man, Dengeir's brother Thadgeir, if Farkhali's information was correct, rose in a threatening stance. Farkhali smiled softly, knowing full well she was armed and they were not. And they would not want to lose this chance, would they?

"I…"

"When does your guard's shift end?"

Dengeir took a quick glance at the hourglass on his end table.

"About an hour and a half from now. But the guards outside change shifts every hour."

"So I'll have a little over an hour. Any idea where I could find Faendal?"

"Well…"

"He's… he's probably fighting the water, just like everyone else," the woman spoke quietly. "You'll find him easily, he's the only Bosmer around here. Tall, grey hair, unusually pointy ears – even for an elf."

"Tekla?" Dengeir's brother addressed her with a raised brow. Farkhali did not miss the undertone of suspicion in his voice.

"Well, I thought it was okay to tell her. Can it get any worse?" The woman suddenly looked surprisingly calm. The Khajiit raised a brow.

"Actually…" Dengeir began, but Farkhali quickly waved him off.

"Do you want to free Falkreath or not?" she asked firmly.

"I… uh…"

"I'm not asking whether you can… or whether you think you can. I'm asking whether you want to."

The former jarl sighed. "Yes," he said heavily. "I do."

"Then note this. The only thing that will work to your advantage is the moment of surprise. I'm going to give it to you, so don't let it go to waste."

With no further explanation, Farkhali rushed outside. Again, she was one with the shadows, concealing her presence and sneaking through the city. She nearly collided with an Altmer woman huffing and cursing the weather as a large splash from the roof landed on her.

She found Faendal near the local cemetery, working on a protective wall against the flood. Bags of sand lay scattered around and the headstones were barely visible for all the mud, water and sand.

The Bosmer was in a company of several other elves. She pressed herself to a tree and waited until he was closer to her. Then she threw a rock, large enough to make him aware someone was there, small enough not to hurt him and to attract only his attention and no one else's. He jerked in surprise and she let herself be seen for a slight moment, only to signal to follow her before the other elves started looking. Then she disappeared behind a corner.

It took a moment or two before the elf shouted that he was going to look for a spare shovel and retreated from the cemetery. He hurried to her and she quickly led him behind a bush by one of the smaller houses.

"Who in Oblivion are you?" he hissed. "You better speak up or I'm having you arrested."

"No, you are not," Farkhali spoke calmly. "You wouldn't have come if you hadn't thought I was a friend." She needed no magic this time.

The elf sighed. "I… guess you have a point. Who sent you? This is risky."

"No one, but I spoke to Dengeir."

"So his guards are…"

"You have an hour to get some weapons for the locals. Is there anyone you can trust among the Thalmor?"

Faendal scowled. "Not a good joke. It's the Thalmor we're talking about."

"Right. Then do this." She leaned to him and whispered something in his ear. He frowned in concentration, trying to catch every word of hers in the heavy rain. Even as an elf he had a hard time discerning the words. His face slowly changed from thoughtful to shocked, until it twisted in utter disbelief.

"This is… mad!" he breathed.

"But it could work."

"It could. But if it doesn't…"

"It will."

"How can you be so sure?"

Farkhali gave him a long, pensive look. Then she shrugged and a corner of her mouth lifted in an imperceptible smile. "Just guessing," she said.

"Wha—"

"Go. There's no time to lose."

She gave him a nudge and before he could give her an answer, she was gone. The Khajiit made her way to a secluded house where she hid under the overhanging roof and waited. Then she silently set out into the rainy weather again.

Her path led her along the walls, stopping occasionally by a bush or hiding behind a tree when there was a patrol passing by. A lichen covered log made her shudder with cold when she was forced to press herself against it. At last, her eyes spotted a pair of banners hanging limply by the entrance to the Jarl`s Longhouse. Several guards were standing before it and Farkhali stopped at a safe distance, measuring the way so she could sneak past them. She could technically kill them… but that would spoil the surprise.

She glanced at the sky, squinting as the pouring water blocked her view. The clouds were a mass of uniform greyness, no significantly thick part that would provide extra shadows stood out. Farkhali sighed and silently circled the building. She hid behind one of the adjacent building's corners and peeked over it from time to time, studying the guards' movement. They stood like statues, silent in the falling rain, seemingly dazed in the gloomy weather, but Farkhali did not give in to the temptation.

She waited and waited, until finally one of them moved and another followed. Change of shifts, that was her chance. One of the guards entered the Longhouse while another two left their posts, heading elsewhere. There was one left, and one guard always has a blind spot. Farkhali moved quickly, becoming one with the shadows. She circled a bush and pressed herself against a wall. A moment later, the guard turned his eyes away from where she was and she silently crawled to the entrance and disappeared inside.

She had to act quickly. Several Thalmor officers were standing around one of the pillars supporting the wall and ceiling on the left side, currently engaged in a heated discussion about supplies that Farkhali was not interested in one bit. But it served her well and she only needed a moment. A single blink of an eye.

She silently jumped to the right and helped the shadows guide her way. Her body moved like lightning, but shortly before she reached her destination, she was noticed.

A scantily clad Redguard woman with a thick braid of raven hair, likely one that had been imported for her exotic beauty, squealed at the Khajiit's presence, but Farkhali ignored her. Two quick steps and she was behind the Jarl's seat, pressing a dagger to his throat. People started screaming, but at the sound of one of the Thalmor's voice they turned quiet. Farkhali waited for a short moment and then spoke.

"Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath, you will now withdraw all your troops from Whiterun."

The Jarl let out something between a snort and a laugh. "Oh, whoever you are, stop your jokes. You are heavily outnumbered."

"Oh, that may seem so," said Farkhali, "but the fact that I was able to get here should be enough of a proof that there are traitors among your men."

She could feel him shifting nervously in his seat. She tightly clutched the dagger and slid the blade a short distance along his neck to let him know she was not going to go easy on him.

"That's ridiculous," one of the hooded figures drawled. "We are the Thalmor. Do not put us together with… your sort." The last two words were spoken with utter disdain. Farkhali stood motionlessly, sizing the elf up with her eyes.

"Well then, maybe you should—"

The door flew open and two guards, one elven and one Breton, barged in, panting as they approached the gathering.

"E… everyone's fighting!" announced the Breton in between his shallow breaths. "The guard at Dengeir's has been killed! Half of our men turned against us the moment they saw it and… the citizens are out of their houses, grabbing weapons and fighting! We can't get to them in this weather, they know the area too well! Also…" Farkhali was under the impression that the man could barely keep up with himself, "someone tore down the sand walls and our supplies were ransacked! Our men keep blaming each other and…"

The Thalmor that had spoken before hissed inarticulately. Then his eyes fixed on Farkhali.

"Enough. Get the cat," he commanded calmly. Everyone readied their weapons but faltered the moment Farkhali twisted the dagger in her hand, reminding them of the situation.

"No!" the Jarl screamed. "Stop! Do what she says!" Farkhali could feel him tremble under her hands, pressing his back to the throne in attempt to create a distance between himself and the cold blade. What a measly coward.

"Well then," the elf said with a razor-sharp voice. He raised his hand and an ice bolt found its way right into Jarl Siddgeir's heart. Farkhali gasped and jumped aside as another one was aimed at her.

"You…!"

"Oh, don't act so surprised!" the elf said with a smirk. He gestured to the others in the room to fire at her. Farkhali quickly calculated the distance between her and the closest escape route and used the first attacker as a living shield. "The man has served his purpose."

A woman with a longsword and a shield charged at her and she slid along the blade, helping the woman proceed until she fell on the ground. Now she had to face three. She smirked. There were only so many of them that could fight her at once. She jumped.

The trophy she tried to hold onto did not survive the impact, but it gave her an unexpected advantage. It fell down with a crack and disabled two of the attackers. She landed close to another and just barely avoided a bolt of lightning. She grabbed the shield that lay on the ground and parried an onslaught. Her arm went numb and she hissed in sudden pain.

There were only few people in the room now, blocking her passage and standing threateningly before her. Her hand instinctively groped about her pockets, belts and buckles until it found the first thing she could use to fight. Without so much as thinking about what she was doing, Farkhali drew the cursed wand she had brought with her and fired at the leader. He staggered and screamed. Farkhali gasped, barely able to evade the next two shots as her mind was flooded with memories that did not belong to her.

A fierce battle of men against elves. Then an elven general with a cruel smile beheading a Breton woman. Beside her lay an already beheaded Nord child. Then a burning city, elven men, women and children hanging on crosses that were slowly catching on fire. Screams and pleas. Then a small child crying alone in the night. Around him lay piles of corpses. A ritual sword with the crest of Talos was buried in each of them and only its handle was visible. Farkhali could even smell the decay.

This man truly hated both the Nords and the Empire, and Farkhali felt almost sorry for him. Then again, she barely felt sorry for those whom she cared about, for strong people did not need to be pitied. The man in question fell to one knee and gave her a look full of pure hatred. She smirked.

The other men made way for her, as though this fight did not concern them anymore. She walked slowly towards him, a dagger in one hand and the wand in the other which was slightly trembling with pain. He could not move, only his eyes were fixed on her, spiteful and hurt at the same time. She stood there for a moment, ruminating whether she should deliver the blow or leave the man be. He would not do as she commanded, of that she was sure. She let out a worn-out breath and bent down.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, "but I wanna live too." The blade cut cleanly through his throat. The elf died instantly.

As though a spell had been broken, the rest of the men now lunged at her at once. She was now in an advantageous position, and so she just waved at them in a friendly manner.

"See ya!" she called and exited the building through the front door.

The outside was chaos. She had to admit Faendal had done good job stirring distrust among the Thalmor. Although, come to think of it, she had done the first step for him. And she had failed her own mission. She bit her lip as she thought of possible solutions. Then she decided to search for the Bosmer again, avoiding the fights and clutching her left hand.

He was sitting on a piece of elevated ground behind the city, watching a fierce battle between several Nords an equal number of elves. After a closer look, Farkhali realized that one of the elves fought on the Nords' side. The Khajiit frowned as she approached Faendal, struggling against a creek that had run wild in the deluge.

"Why aren't you joining?" she asked, looming above him. She refused to sit down. Despite having gotten used to all kinds of weather in Skyrim, she still had her limits.

"Because I can still be useful if I don't," he said with a shrug. "The fact that I enabled the Nords to fight for themselves doesn't mean I am going to blow my cover."

"Right," she nodded thoughtfully. "Say, who do the Thalmor report to when their local leader is dead?"

The elf raised a brow.

"Well, say there was a split division somewhere who was under the command of the local leader whom I, uh… not so accidentally killed."

Faendal's inquiring look slowly turned into a triumphant smile. "You want to save Whiterun!"

Farkhali sighed. "Well, yes."

"So the leader is dead? What about Siddgeir?"

"Killed by the leader. Guess I didn't pick the best way to handle the situation."

"Well, then we're screwed. Give it up."

"You want me to give up? No way in Oblivion that's ever happening. So?"

"They answer to the Squires. There are two in Skyrim. A guy called Arethil and a woman going by the name Reinya Talwen. You look capable, but even if you manage to get to them in time, don't even think about going against these two. They don't know failure. Arethil is merciless and would either torture you into saying stuff you didn't even know you knew or kill you without hesitation. Reinya Talwen is known for always having her way without even having to fight or argue. And they both have a vast network of agents who keep providing information and doing dirty jobs for them."

Farkhali's ear twitched. Now it was her turn to smile. "Always having her way without having to fight, you say?"

"No. Seriously, don't."

"Oh I will. Any idea where she is?"

Faendal rubbed his temples and let out an exhausted breath. "You're a stubborn one. But fortunately for you, there's no way for you to make it anyway. She's in Dawnstar."

Farkhali frowned. Dawnstar was not good. Even with her speed, she would not be able to make it there in time. If she could find another way… "I'm going to Whiterun. There's a high chance I won't make it, but… well, if you want to make some very insignificant difference, come with me."

"That doesn't sound very appealing," the elf said and wrinkled his nose. He let out a long, deep sigh and looked her in the eye. "Let's do it."

Well then. I must apologize for the immensely long delay. I hope you haven't given up on me, because I haven't given up on you and I still plan on finishing the story. But I got a job now and it's gotten unbelievably busy, especially at this time before the end of the year. Hopefully it gets better after New Year, wish me luck. Anyway, as for the chapter…

I must say this one is a gamble. Not sure how I even came up with this, but let's say I wrote it bit by bit during the last few months whenever I had time and inspiration and it just somehow became like this. Faendal in the game seemed very much characterless, so I'm thinking of adding a bit of spice to his personality.

That said, about the next chapter… since I originally planned to make it one chapter including this and Whiterun, the next chapter is also going to evolve around Farkhali. And if you think she got over what happened to her too fast, don't worry. I'll get to it.

As for your reactions… thank you very much, ColdYeti and Twillin, for your awesome reviews!

ColdYeti:Thank you, thank you, thank you! So nice to have a new fan! And yes, I will continue! Sorry for the wait!

Twillin:As I said… not looking forward to when you hate me for this. :D

As always, many thanks to dart0808 for the beta!

Thanks for all the reviews, likes, follows and stay tuned!

Mirwen