There wasn't much time.
It was the third of Rain's Hand. Aeyrin was still angry about Siddgeir's timing and how he forced her to wait until the morning. Every second counted right now. She was getting increasingly worried by the minute, if that was even possible. He said that she would be back by the evening – this Bloodlet Throne keep wasn't too far. But what did he know? He didn't seem to count on her encountering any trouble at all.
She tried to get ready. She tried to get some sleep, some food, to make sure that all her equipment was in order. But sleep didn't come easy, food still had no taste and she couldn't even concentrate on whatever she was doing. She kept chastising herself that she should focus, but it was no use. She felt like a ghost, drifting through this place with all her thoughts jumbled.
She asked to see Bishop, but Siddgeir wouldn't let her even do that. She couldn't reassure him, she couldn't see if he was alright. She was so helpless, only at the mercy of the Jarl's whims.
She kept hovering around the inn, waiting for the steward to make an announcement. Maybe Siddgeir wouldn't be too happy about that – she was being awfully conspicuous. But she didn't care. She didn't know what else to do. Why was that woman taking so long? Couldn't they give her a little courtesy and allow her as much time as possible? Not to mention to make sure that the people in the vampire's grasp wouldn't have to suffer unnecessarily long.
'I want them traumatized, not dead'.
Siddgeir's words rang in her head. Monster. He was no better than that 'menace' that'd been terrorizing his Hold. Whatever their intentions were, political or some twisted needs, they were both doing the same thing – making innocent people suffer for their own agenda.
This was not the kind of 'full circle' she had been wishing for. Not one that would have her deal with another one of these awful people who were so unconcerned about anything but what they wanted.
She even felt bad for that Dengeir person. She kept thinking if she should help him somehow instead of Siddgeir, but that was too risky. She needed to save those people and she needed to save Bishop. And she had no idea if she would be able to do any of it by stabbing that horrible Jarl in his back.
No. This was his show and she had to perform. There was nothing she could do about it.
Finally, she spotted the Altmer woman making her way towards the inn, ushering anyone she met along the way to follow for an important announcement.
Aeyrin shuffled her feet impatiently right there, waiting until the woman and the small crowd of people arrived. One of them rushed inside the tavern to call everyone outside. Soon enough, the people were gathered and the steward addressed them at last.
"My dear citizens," she spoke somberly, but loud enough for anyone there to hear. "I know that things have not been easy for our town lately with the threat on our border. It breaks my heart to bear you more bad news today."
The crowd began to whisper among themselves with palpable concern. If only they knew. If only they knew who was at fault here. That their 'leader' was the reason for all of this.
"Several of our citizens were reported missing. We have no information on their whereabouts, but a larger group disappearing at the same time is a cause for concern for our Jarl and we suspect ill play. I urge you all, please, we cannot launch an investigation with our forces strained, but if anyone has any information that could help us make sense of this disappearance, let us know."
There were many murmurs around the crowd again, some disgruntled. It was no wonder. What use would information be when the leadership didn't have the manpower to do anything about it? This was ridiculous. Was this how Siddgeir approached all problems that befell his city? No wonder Thorn found this Hold ripe for the picking.
But that wasn't important anymore. The announcement was made at last and she could finally head out. She rushed back into the inn to put on her armor and ready herself. No matter how much she hated fighting vampires, she was prepared to do this.
Anything to get him free.
…
"Hey! Wake up, scum."
Obnoxious noise invaded his ears as Bishop jerked awake. Someone kept banging something metallic into the bars. Over and over again.
He wasn't even sure what time it was. He knew he had been in his cell the entire last day. Nobody came around. The guard sometimes poked his head into his cellblock to check on him. Once he brought over the same stale bread, a cheese block with hints of mold on it and a tankard of water for dinner. But that was it.
Bishop tried to sleep through the night but it wasn't easy. He kept waking up, thinking about the time passing by and his execution getting closer by the minute. It was still a bit hard to wrap his head around this. That this has finally come to pass. And it was even harder to wrap his head around the fact that he had no idea how to get out of this mess.
He had no plan. None at all. He examined his cell carefully – all the bars, the lock – he tried to see how sturdy everything was, but there was no getting out of there. The window was too small to fit him and it had bars on it too. And there was just nothing that he could do. At one point, he was wondering if he could fashion a lockpick out of the hard cheese. It wasn't that hard to hold though. He was desperate.
Through all that, he kept wondering what happened to Aeyrin. She hadn't come to see him once, and of course he knew that they most likely wouldn't let her. The darker ideas swimming in his head involved some much more dire fates for her than just denied visitations. Fuck, he hoped she was alright.
If she was, he knew that she would be doing everything she could to get him out. But getting his hopes up might be dangerous. What could she do? What could she do that would ever erase a twenty thousand drake bounty on his head? Siddgeir would definitely not be as understanding as Elisif or Maven had been about this. Not a chance in Oblivion, based on what Bishop had heard about the man. And even if he could be bought, it was not with the paltry sums he and Aeyrin could accumulate in such a short time.
And would that even help? Even if Siddgeir could be bought, would he allow that if his masses called for revenge? It was the same shit that happened in Whiterun.
Fuck, this was just hopeless. He spent the entire day drowning in these thoughts.
And now, when he felt like he managed to at least get an hour of rest or so, one of those asshole guards was waking him up again.
"Did you not hear me? Get up." Another blow to the bars rattled Bishop's ears.
Bishop let out a groan as he got up from the small rickety bed with a paper-thin mattress and a filthy blanket. He was so disoriented from his interrupted sleep, he had no idea what time it was. The man waking him did not slide any food inside the cell though so it was probably not breakfast time.
"Towards the bars and turn around," the guard rattled a pair of cuffs in his hand.
"Why?" Bishop growled. What the fuck did they want with him? He certainly wasn't being released – why would they need the cuffs for that?
"You wanna stay filthy? Just stop yapping and move it," the man scoffed.
Ugh, fine, they didn't give him a chance to bathe since he'd been here, though that was really the least of his problems. Maybe he could use this to his advantage though. Maybe he could attack the guard on the way. He could escape.
Was it even smart to try? Maybe it would make everything worse.
But how much fucking worse could it get?
He walked towards the bars and turned around with his hands behind his back. He felt the cold of the cuff on one wrist first, then the other. Just like before, they were cutting into his skin uncomfortably. It was hard to attack someone that way. But… he could probably manage.
The key clicked and the door to his cell opened. He stepped outside promptly, but the second he did, the man unsheathed a dagger from his belt and pressed it to Bishop's throat.
"No funny business. Dead men tend to have stupid ideas and try desperate things," he smirked at Bishop. "And don't think I'd have any qualms about slitting your throat right now. You'll be dead in a few days anyway, so who the fuck cares?"
Fuck.
The man turned him around with a rough shove, but he still kept that dagger pressed to his neck. Bishop felt a sting of a nick there, but that was really not that bad. The worst thing was that he realized all too well that one wrong move would end his life too quickly. His situation may have looked hopeless, but he was certainly not going to waste any future opportunities for escape by being stupid.
With a defeated sigh, he marched forward, ushered by the guard and his knife. When they entered the first cell block, the guard called out: "Dead man walking!" mockingly, earning a few hoots from the prisoners around.
Fucking asshole. We'll see about that.
But right now, he was kind of out of options. They were really careful about him. When they passed through the cell block, another guard joined them. Bishop was led to some small room that only had a tub with water that looked probably as filthy as the floor. There was a bar of soap on the edge at least. But aside from that same small barred window, there was nothing else in that room at all. Nothing to use.
The guard still held a knife to his neck while the other removed the cuffs. The second those were off, Bishop was shoved inside the room and the door closed and locked behind him. The men were definitely going to be waiting outside to take him back again.
There was no escape.
Fuck, he just needed one good opportunity. Just one.
With another resigned sigh, he at least concentrated on getting some of the grime off himself as best as he could. Though it wasn't exactly making him clean by a longshot. But what the fuck did that matter?
Ugh, he hated this. How was he supposed to come up with a plan when everything looked this hopeless?
It didn't take him too long to finish with the bath. It was making him uncomfortable that those assholes were right there outside. As ridiculous as it sounded, he would much prefer to be back in his cell. At least he was all alone there.
He got a little hopeful when the door opened again once he knocked on it, but the men were ready for any ambushes. Not that he even properly tried. The first one rushed in and twisted Bishop's arm behind his back painfully while the second one pressed his dagger to his throat again.
Hopeless.
"Hands," the man behind him ordered and Bishop only begrudgingly moved both his hands back to let him put on the cuffs. He needed to be smart about this – he couldn't just lash out. Like this, he was still at least capable of taking an opportunity when it presented itself, but if he pissed off the guards, he might not even be in a state to fight back if he ever could.
When he was cuffed, he was forced to walk again, but much to his surprise, he was led in another direction altogether – not towards his cell.
What the fuck? Where were they taking him?
Not a thought popped into his head. He tried to keep himself from getting hopeful that this would be something actually good. It wasn't gonna be anything good. He knew that. But he couldn't think of anything else they would be leading him to.
Not even when they arrived.
It was a tiny room. Really tiny. There was nothing inside it but two braziers. No bed, no bars. No windows. Was this supposed to be his new cell or something?
"What is this?" he growled at the men.
"Well… it's just this nice room where we like to let off some steam," one of the guards smirked at him.
Oh fuck.
"See, we don't really like bandits around here. Bad memories and all that," he continued mockingly.
"I'm not a bandit," Bishop groaned, though he wasn't sure why he even tried. It was not like they would listen to anything he said.
"That's alright, we like to err on the side of caution. If we find out we made a mistake. Oh well… shit happens. What can you do?" the guard chuckled.
Yeah. What could he do?
Fuck.
…
Aeyrin looked over the horizon, beyond the forests and into the mountains in the distance.
Siddgeir told her where that keep was, but he also told her to make sure she was taking the right path through the forests by checking from the nearby lookout tower. He failed to mention the spriggan who had taken a liking to that tower, but she fortunately managed to dispose of it without much difficulty.
The good news was that the keep was on an actual road and that she wouldn't have to venture into the forests. She would have surely gotten lost there.
But that was probably the only positive thing about any of this.
She could see the fort in the distance and she could see the path leading to it. The journey would not be the difficult thing, at least she hoped. The vampires inside would prove much more of a challenge.
Aeyrin never really did well against vampires. Not without a good backup at least. And her Shouts. While Bishop's words about her not needing them were encouraging, right now, she really wished that she could use them again.
But more than that, she really wished that Bishop would be here with her.
With a determined nod to herself, she descended down the tower again and set off on her path. It was going to take an hour or two to get there. Unfortunately, that gave her plenty of time to fret. She wouldn't be able to calm down, not even when all those vampires were dead. Not until she could see Bishop.
She did wonder why the vampire was alive at all. Why didn't anyone kill it and why did they keep him locked up in the fort instead? Was it because it was the Jarl's and Dengeir's ancestor? Siddgeir definitely didn't seem too concerned about it being killed right now.
But she was sick of thinking about his agendas. She just kept thinking that she was going there to rescue people, not just from the vampires, but from Siddgeir's schemes too.
If only she wasn't part of them.
As she walked the path, her thoughts returned to the potential delays and distractions that she was wary of. Back during that whole Thorn mess, she was originally supposed to get Siddgeir's help in dealing with the dragon in the area. But that never happened. She ran off sooner than that plan was supposed to come to fruition. It'd been so long; the dragon might have been taken care of already – slayed by the guards and moved further away from the town like they tended to do. She really hoped that was the case. The last thing she needed was encountering one of those on top of it all.
Fortunately that didn't happen and, after more than an hour, she finally found herself in front of the dreaded fort.
This was it. Somewhere inside Siddgeir's sacrifices were now going through something awful, most likely. She hoped that she wasn't too late for them because of the Jarl's infuriating plan.
She gripped her mace tightly in her hand and readied her other for any opportune spells she might throw at these things. It was a strange feeling after such a long time to venture into a dangerous dungeon without Bishop watching her back. Without anyone watching her back. But she used to do this all the time. She could do this now.
The first room she emerged in was empty. That made her both a little at ease and more wary, but she continued on towards the hallway ahead. A narrow hallway with nothing in it.
Oh. Gods, she needed to remember to do this again. It was mostly Bishop who watched out for traps. He had a real knack for that. But she had seen enough old Imperial forts to be able to pinpoint any nasty ones as well. She just… had to remember to pay attention to that now that she didn't have anyone else that would.
She approached carefully before she spotted spouts on the walls and a subtle pressure plate instead of one of the floor stones. She stepped over the plate easily and continued down the hallway, still watching the ground. But there were no more. That went quite smoothly.
The place was quite dark, but there were at least some torches on the walls. She had to wonder why though. Didn't vampires see in the dark? Maybe it was… for the victims to see…
She shuddered at the thought and instead she followed forward. The place was a bit confusing with so little light. There were twists and turns as she walked through a hallway, until she reached some stairs leading down. She stopped in front of them and tried to approach slowly to see what she was in for – at least she still had Bishop's muffling ring. He never took it back from her and, while she did take it off when they returned from their adventure at the Bastion and the sawmill, he never had it on him when he got arrested. She really hoped that the ring he did have on him wouldn't get taken by the guards. That would be heartbreaking. But… it was still just a thing. It was much more important that he made it out of this alive.
As she continued down and leaned against each corner, she still couldn't see anything. Only after descending even further, she finally spotted the bottom of the stairs and a chamber ahead. There was not much in it, save for some strange statue of a creature. Maybe it was supposed to be Molag Bal, but it was a very weird depiction of the Prince – unlike any she had previously seen during her studies.
Ah well, a statue was a statue. She still tried to remain at least a little sneaky to have the upper hand as she finally walked down the steps.
But before she could explore further, she heard footsteps. And voices. Someone was heading into the chamber.
The statue suddenly provided her with a good opportunity. She didn't have to give out her presence yet. Not until she found out how many enemies she was up against. She couldn't just tell by the sounds as easily as Bishop did. It all sounded the same to her when there were multiple footsteps.
She quickly rushed towards the statue and situated herself between it and the entrance arch leading further into the fort – where the sounds just came from. She slowly and very carefully put her pack down onto the ground to make herself more ready for combat, before she flattened her back against the wall behind her. She could remain hidden like this.
At first, she couldn't understand the voices, but as they got closer, the words became clearer.
"… try to turn her?"
"No. I don't think she's right for it."
Two voices. But Aeyrin could have sworn she heard a soft 'hmm-hmm' too. There may have been more.
"You're so picky. We need more."
Were they talking about turning the citizens into vampires? Gods, she hoped she wasn't too late.
"What do you say?"
Someone murmured in response. It actually sounded like more of these things. Gods, how many were there? She needed to take a look.
She leaned away a little to see behind the statue. She spotted two vampires with glowing eyes and dark armors or clothes or whatever those were. But that wasn't all. She just couldn't see that very well. She needed to lean out a bit more.
She grabbed the statue's wrist for balance and leaned further. But before she could even spot anything properly, suddenly the solid stone under her hand cracked, letting sharp pain shoot into her palm.
She almost yelped. She stopped herself at the last minute, but she had a feeling that it didn't help her one bit. The stone all over the statue began cracking rapidly, chunks falling down onto the ground, making horribly loud noise. What was that? Why did that statue just crumble like this?!
But only a second later she noticed that it did not crumble. She noticed that it actually wasn't a statue at all. It was a creature. For some inexplicable reason encased in stone and lying in wait like this. But now it was free. It let out something in between a roar and a shriek and it slashed its long claw against her instantly.
Aeyrin managed to jump out of the way in her shock, but her previous subtlety had been fruitless. She would have been in a better position if she would have charged. This was frustrating. Why did she ever even try to be sneaky? It never went well. She was just… nervous without Bishop to do this part. But she needed to rely on her own skillsets. Those did not steer her wrong.
She smashed her mace into the creature's flank with force, sending it sprawling a bit to the side. Like that, she had an unobstructed view of the five shocked vampires. That was a lot of vampires. But she could do this. She had to.
Her hand lit up and, only a second later, a beam of light shot at one vampire – the one that had already been preparing to cast that awful red spell. The light enveloped the monster instantly and it screeched in pain, its leather outfit sizzling against its skin as it fell to the ground.
One down. Five to go. The strange stony creature was already up on its clawed feet again and it tried to scratch her once more.
It managed. Kind of.
The sharp claws scratched against her chest plate, creating a jarring sound as they drew through. Aeyrin had to stagger back from the impact, but one quick glance showed no damage to her plate at all. When her eyes went back to the creature, it was screeching in pain and its claw looked much more… dull.
Heh. Serves you right, stony freak.
Right then she was grateful for the sturdiness of those special crystals.
Another blow from her mace hit the creature in its head while it crouched in pain. That did it. The enchantments barely did anything to it, but the blow made half of its face crumble, just like the statue. It was still made of stone, oddly enough. But some parts looked almost… fleshy. What a horrifying thing that was.
She didn't have time to study it though. The vampires were almost upon her.
One more beam of light disposed of another brazen caster. But there were still three of them left. A vampire reached her with its sword drawn. It tried to stab her, but Aeyrin blocked the weapon with her mace. That did give an opportunity to another vampire though. It practically jumped at her like a feral animal, trying to claw at her face and bite her neck. She kept trying to evade it, trying to lean away, but that made her lose balance soon.
She fell onto the ground heavily and the vampire jumped at her again. But this time, she had her hand free to smash her mace into its flank mid-fall. It almost threw the creature, sending it tumbling away from her as it tried to douse the flames from her enchantment enveloping its cloak.
The one with the sword rushed towards her again, but from her position down on her back, another beam of light shot from her hand, right on the creature. These spells were a Gods-sent. The vampire shrieked in pain as it got scorched in the light, burnt to a crisp.
She collected herself and got up on her feet, but she had almost forgotten.
There was one more.
Its hand shone with the dreaded red lights and it was waiting for her to get up. The second she did, the lights flew towards her.
She jumped out of the way, towards the corridor leading further in, evading the spell, but it was making its way towards her regardless. She needed something else.
Her hand lit up again, but this time in a soft blue light. A shield of that light formed in front of her then, warding her from magic.
This was going really good.
She was kind of impressed with herself.
The red lights just bounced off her ward and the vampire snarled at her hatefully.
Good. Now she could kill it at last. Five vampires at once and a strange stony creature was no easy task, but she did it. She could do this. She would be done by nightfall and she would have Bishop back in her arms soon.
Her ward dissipated, but she didn't let up. Her hand lit once more with the bright light.
But suddenly, something grabbed her by the elbow. She didn't see anything! Something was behind her.
Why did she stand in that archway like that?!
They yanked her magic-wielding hand back and the vampire in front of her took the opportunity. It cast its horrible spell again.
Everything just became confusing then.
The red lights were everywhere, seeping all her energy out of her. Something hit her in the back of her head and her vision darkened.
The next thing she felt was a familiar sensation. Teeth sinking into her neck. Right into that same spot as always. What was with that spot?
She felt a hand in her hair, pulling her head back. But she couldn't feel the teeth anymore. She wasn't sure why. She felt like she heard gagging.
But then, there was pain in her head once more.
That was the last thing she felt.
…
Another kick in his stomach made him spatter blood onto the stone ground.
It appeared that the guards were more than eager to 'let off some steam' and take out their frustrations on the 'wretched bandit'. It wasn't anything new to Bishop. He had been through shit like this with plenty of egotistic jackasses who made themselves feel better this way. It didn't piss him off any less now than it used to.
He couldn't even fight back. He couldn't even defend himself with his arms still bound. He kicked a few a couple of times, but not enough to actually do any damage. They just laughed at his attempts. He laughed back at theirs, of course, taunting them that he had been through worse. It was true, but it didn't really do him any favors.
Well… it did make him feel more in control.
They kept spitting at him some insults about him being a bandit. He didn't fucking care what they were saying about him, but this whole situation was just infuriating. They had no idea what kind of bandit he used to be. It was so fucking rich that this was just because of that bounty.
It felt like one last revenge from Torban.
He couldn't even feel where the kicks and punches were coming from anymore. His whole body ached. But at least they weren't doing anything worse. He had been through much worse. He could take this. He could. He just… had to try and conserve his strength so that he could take an opportunity when it presented itself.
It was getting harder by the minute though. Darkness was seeping into his sight and all sounds felt muffled through the ringing in his ears.
At least it was just these two assholes.
He got a miraculous moment of respite as he tried to catch his breath and spit out the blood accumulating in his mouth. His chest hurt so much and he wasn't sure if it was from the blood, the trouble he had breathing or from those kicks and punches.
"You know, we had a few 'bandit informants' around back when there were these nasty shits terrorizing everyone," one of the guards smirked.
Not surprising. Thorn may have had the loyalty of many, but he also had the hatred of many more. Why was this dickhead even talking about this though? What the fuck did Bishop care?
"Some of them weren't really willing 'informants', but… what can you do? We had this neat little trick to remind them of their place. To remind them what fucking scum they were. They thought ratting out those fuckers made them any better, willingly or not? It just made them more fucking despicable," the guard kicked Bishop's stomach again, eliciting a pained growl from him.
Fuck, could he just stop for one minute? Fucking asshole. When Bishop was out of here, he would get this pissface back tenfold!
The man did stop. That was a relief. Bishop kept breathing heavily and he could faintly hear the sounds of the door. If he had any strength left, he would have tried to bolt right then and there.
There was no more sound, no more hitting. At least there was that. But soon, he heard the door again and then a strange metallic sound.
Maybe that was just the ringing in his ears.
Nothing was happening for a while, but then he felt it.
Something pressed into his shoulder blade firmly and a searing heat spread throughout his back.
He had tried not to give them the satisfaction of screaming the entire time. He was good at that shit – he had practice.
But now he couldn't take it. He couldn't help himself. It felt like his flesh was melting.
He was sure that he was screaming, but he couldn't even hear it in his ears. He couldn't even see anything anymore as he lay there curled on the ground.
The pressure eased soon, but the pain didn't. It kept burning him as if his shoulder was enveloped in flames constantly.
"There. Now you'll remember," one of the guards chuckled. His voice was so muffled and distant.
"He won't see it this way though," the other responded with a snarky tone.
"That's alright. Others might. At least everyone will know what you are."