A Madman's Order

Chapter 5

So, You've Befriended a Group of Murderous Assassins

This is the second time in the last twenty-four hours I've gone unconscious. Both times I'm certain were involuntary. One involved poisoning. The other, well, I simply fainted. How could I not shut down after what happened?

So, I really did not want to wake up. If I did wake up, I wanted to wake up at home, wrapped in my warm, down comforter with a nature documentary crackling on the TV across from my bed. I wanted to wake up, glance at the alarm clock, and slumber for a few more minutes before getting out of bed and going for a run.

I did not want to wake up and see stars, along with a thin tendril of smoke wafting up into the sky. Wood crackled to my right, the telltale sign of a campfire. Embers popped and spat near me, making me stiffen for a split second. A cold wind swept down from nearby mountain peaks. I shivered.

"Finally awake?" The dark tone of my captor said, making me jolt upright.

I glared at her, she glared back, and I backed down. Her stern gaze and relaxed posture told me that she was not afraid of me in the slightest. I couldn't blame her. After all, unlike her, I was not a killer.

I used to not be a killer.

My stomach dropped as I recalled what happened in the cabin. A shaky breath left my lips. I tucked my knees close to my chest as tears welled in my eyes.

"What have I done?" I whispered.

"What you had to do," My captor commented as she turned a spit over the fire.

There was a hunk of meat on it. At the edge of our camp, I spotted a dead stag. The smell of the roasting meat hit my nose, and my mouth briefly watered. Then I recalled my foul deed and any appetite I had left.

"I hope you are hungry," she said, choosing now to draw back her hood and lower her mask, allowing me to see her face once again. Her blonde hair looked like it glowed like gold in the firelight. For the first time, I also noticed some lines on her face. She was older than I initially thought. "There's plenty of meat for you as well."

I grimaced. "I don't have much of an appetite."

The woman frowned at me. "You haven't eaten in days. I'm sure you can feel that."

She wasn't lying. My stomach felt empty and hollow. It almost felt like it was gnawing on my body, gasping for what little nutrients remained in my blood and on my bones. The amount of adrenaline that pumped through my veins when I awoke in the cabin must've negated the hunger I felt upon waking. Now that my captor mentioned it, I was famished, and my stomach would not stop growling. It didn't help that the venison smelled divine.

With a begrudging sigh, I turned to face the fire, letting its warm wash over me as I waited for the meal to finish cooking. For a few moments, I sat there in silence with my captor, or should I call her my companion? That would imply a certain level of friendship, right? We certainly were not friends. The mere thought of being friends with a monster such as this woman made my stomach turn more than the spit over the fire.

I tucked my knees to my chest. A frown remained on my lips as I watched the dancing flames. Campfires used to be fun for me. They were nice reminders of cool autumn nights with friends, back in high school. Those were the days. A fire at night with smores, perhaps someone snuck a beer or two to the gathering. Nothing crazy ever happened, but they were always enjoyable. Unlike this campfire, which only served to remind me that I was in a frozen hellhole with a woman whose name I did not know.

Speaking of the devil, she opened her mouth to speak. I just barely caught the tail end of what she said, causing me to give her a confused look. Her brow furrowed when she saw my puzzled expression.

"How do you know Cicero?" She asked again.

"Oh," I swallowed. I really did not want to talk to this woman. But I got the impression she could easily kill me if I did not tell her what she wanted to hear. Death was not something I was interested in experiencing. "We met on the side of the road, actually. I helped him with his wagon, and he helped me get to Whiterun. Beyond that…"

I trailed off, my mind starting to race. Why did Cicero help me in Whiterun? He could have simply been on his merry way without me, leaving me to languish in the castle dungeon. He already paid me for assisting him with Loreius and his wagon, so it's not like he was trying to repay any sort of debt.

Why would he bother?

"You're trying to understand why Cicero brought you along?" The woman snorted. "I may not know the man well, barely at all, but I know a nutter when I see one. Good luck trying to understand what goes through his mind."

I snorted. Little did this woman know that my old occupation involved doing just that. Talking to people with mental illnesses or problems and helping them understand how to handle those issues. It was a rewarding job. I enjoyed it a lot more than tromping through a snowy wilderness fresh off of murdering someone.

… God, I really murdered someone.

"Well, how you came to know Cicero is irrelevant. You are part of the family now, which means you are one of us." The woman continued, pulling the spit away from the fire and setting it down on a smooth stone. She drew a knife from her belt and began carving slivers of meat from the large chunk onto wooden plates. Juices streamed from the perfectly cooked venison. My stomach growled as she handed me a plate.

I took it, eyed the food, then gave her a wary glance again. "So, if I'm a member of the family, then who are you? The mom?"

For the first time, the woman expressed an emotion other than annoyance or grumpiness. She snorted out a laugh.

"It feels like that sometimes," she admitted. "Between Arnbjorn's recklessness, Babette's cleverness, Festus's temper, and Nazir's dry tongue, I feel like I'm herding around a group of insane toddlers." She chuckled again as she shook her head. "Veezara and Gabriella are the quiet ones, and both are helpful in their own way. You'll meet them soon enough, just like the others."

I nodded, biting into a strip of venison. It tasted good enough. Juicy and flavorful, perhaps lacking in some spices. I doubt those were plentiful in Skyrim.

"And you, Mom?" I asked.

The woman gave me a stern look, just like an irritated parent. I half expected her to respond the same way too.

"Astrid," She replied, reaching a hand to me.

I munched on a bite of venison, swallowed, and then hesitantly took her hand. "Anastasia."

"Pretty name," Astrid commented, giving my hand a firm shake before withdrawing it back to her lap. She glanced around the edges of our campsite. "When you finish eating, get some rest. We should be able to get through Morthal by tomorrow. A few days after that we'll be back to the sanctuary."

I nodded. "Another question."

"Ask away, sister."

I repressed a shiver. "God, that doesn't sound… you know what, no. Not doing that. You can call me by my name."

Astrid furrowed her brow. "It's a bit of a mouthful, in my opinion."

"Fine," I threw up a hand, finally showing my frustration and fear, "then Anna works. Happy?"

"Hardly," Astrid remarked with a shrug. "But it's a start. You'll accept your place in our family soon enough. Everyone does."

"I'm not a murderer."

Astrid's gaze pierced me. "Don't lie to yourself."

Any thoughts of hunger or fear retreated, replaced with a burning anger that caused me to shoot to my feet. My venison splattered against the permafrost-crusted ground. I jabbed my finger at Astrid, a snarl trembling over my lips. She hardly batted an eye.

"You coerced me into doing that!"

"I did no such thing," Astrid replied, voice monotone, but her gaze was unblinking. "I gave you a choice. The decision to murder was entirely yours."

"You did not give me a choice. You gave me an ultimatum!"

"A fancy word for a choice you did not like," Astrid rebutted. "Also, a rather large word for someone like you to know. Cicero did mention you were a mage, so perhaps you are more educated than I thought."

A frustrated growl rushed from my lips. I wanted to pull my hair out. "For the last, damn time, I am not a mage! That stupid staff, Wabbawhatever, does what it wants. The chicken was an accident."

"But you are educated?"

I snorted. "Oh, you have no idea."

Astrid nodded, finally breaking eye contact with me. "Good, you are intelligent. Hopefully, that will allow you to live long enough to be of some value."

I raised an eyebrow, fear resettling in my gut. The way she said that, value, made me want to shiver. Astrid did not view me as a person. Not yet. She viewed me as an asset. Someone in leadership with that kind of attitude was dangerous, and they were probably the last person I wanted to piss off if I wanted to live and get home.

Silently, Astrid carved me a new plate of meat. I took a seat, fighting the urge to hyperventilate. She passed me the plate. Once again, I took it and bit into a hunk of venison. After chewing and swallowing, I sighed.

"Thanks, Mom."

The corner of Astrid's mouth twitched. She did not like that. Good. I could needle her somehow then. That settled me for now. At least when we got back to the sanctuary, or whatever it was called, Cicero would be there. As insane as he was, he at least made for good, easy conversation. Easy being the relative term to use when talking to a madman.

The return to the Sanctuary, as Astrid called it, was uneventful. It took a couple more days, mostly due to my inexperience with traveling such vast distances by foot, but we made it back in one piece. Once there, Astrid did not have to say the password to the door. She simply approached, and it groaned open, allowing us to enter the earth's bowels.

Once inside, I grimaced. Various emotions swam in me, none of them pleasant. The most prominent at the moment was the realization that this underground network, this living tomb, was my new home until I found a way home, away from this hell. Astrid made it plain that I could not leave either. I knew the location of this place. Astrid and her demented family were keen on keeping it secret. If I wanted to live and make it home, I had to remain.

That being said, I'm not so sure I'll live through this anyway.

I paused by the stairs that led further into the earth, by the stone table I initially met Astrid at. This time, instead of pouring me a glass of drugged tea, she went to one of the cupboards along the wall and withdrew some midnight clothes. After patting some dust off of them, she held them out to me.

"You're not a fighter, that much I can tell. That staff on your back makes me think you're a mage type." I fought an eye roll. How many times must I tell these people I don't know any magic? "These are the official robes of the Dark Brotherhood. Wear them well."

I raised an eyebrow. "The Dark Brotherhood?"

"Yes."

I gave Astrid a quizzical look as I slowly took the bundle of robes from her. "Could you be any more ominous?"

Astrid sniffed. "That is the point. You'll learn soon enough. Now then, I have some business to attend to here. Go further inside and meet your new family. I'm sure they're anxious to meet you."

I raised an eyebrow. New family? That was the term she was going with? That did nothing to make me more comfortable with this situation. If anything, it seemed creepy. But I had no choice. Until I found my own way home, I was stuck with this group of insane murderers. Might as well make sure they liked me. Otherwise, I might be their next victim.

So, with a deep breath, I delved further into the caves, stepping down a small flight of ancient, stone stairs and into a massive cavern. Mossy dirt covered the cavern floor. To the right, I spotted a small pond, filled with inky water fed by a spring bursting from the cave wall. Above that pond was a strange, terrifying stained-glass window with artwork that resembled an insidious skull, emblazoned in crimson and black. The sight made me pale.

A growl sounded behind me. I yelped, jumping in the air and twirling around. Standing behind me was the massive, hulking form of Arnbjorn; the man who nearly killed me when Cicero first brought me here.

My heart pounded in my chest as he glared at me, gray eyes peering down with contempt and annoyance. I swallowed hard and gave him a small wave.

"H-Hello?"

"Astrid says you're fresh blood."

I quirked an eyebrow. He talks instead of growls? How interesting.

"Apparently?" I replied.

It was Arnbjorn's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You don't know if you're fresh blood?"

I gulped. "W-Well, the arrangement is complex and-"

"There's nothing complex about this. You're one of us, and Astrid is in charge. You do what she says. Got it?"

A swift nod seemed to placate the large man. He growled again, sniffed the air, then shook his head.

"You stink with fear. I give you a couple of days." Then he turned his back and marched to an alcove lit by a forge.

Confusion filled me as Arnbjorn strode away. For the first time, I noticed he wasn't wearing shoes. Strange. But, that strange detail did not have much time to stay in my mind. What he said quickly grabbed hold of me.

He did not think I would last a couple of days? What did that mean? Was I going to be kicked out? God, I hope so. However, given the general demeanor of him and Astrid, I assumed he meant I wouldn't live a couple of days.

My hands trembled at my sides. Such a thought was not healthy, and it refused to go away. I could feel panic setting in.

Deep breaths. I inhaled, then exhaled. Calm yourself down. Going to the worst-case scenario will not help.

Before walking away, heading towards a set of wooden stairs near the back wall, I offered Arnbjorn a small wave.

"N-Nice to meet you."

"Get out of here, whelp."

I cringed, turned, and beat feet out of the main cavern towards the wooden stairs. At the top of the stairs was a small corridor leading to a little room off of the main cavern. It appeared to be a sitting room, although there were a pair of strange tables on either side. I paid them no mind because the massive wall of spiderwebs grabbed my attention almost immediately.

Feeling my fear of arachnids kicking in, I raced out of that room and into a massive chamber with two levels. The top level, a loft, had beds, dressers, and trunks; a sleeping area for everyone. The bottom level was a kitchen and dining room.

A group of four individuals sat at the dining table, enjoying dinner. An old man, gangly and hunched, wearing red and black robes, sipped on a bowl of soup. Beside him sat quite the shocking site: a little girl, no older than eleven. Her auburn hair framed her small face perfectly. The chair she sat in enveloped her slight form. A bright smile sat on her lips as she spoke with the others.

Across from the little girl was a dark-skinned man wearing attire that would fit in well in a desert environment, right down to the head coverings which would easily shield him from harsh sunlight. He was mostly quiet, snorting with amusement whenever someone said something he enjoyed. The last person at the table sat beside him: a woman with… was that gray skin? Did I see pointed ears beneath her black hood?

"Oh," The little girl nodded at me as she snatched her goblet from in front of her, "our new member has arrived."

"Has she?" The dark-skinned man remarked, twisting in his seat to look at me. His heavy brow furrowed. "Never seen a mage in white before. Have you Festus?"

"Why would you think I have?" The old man grumbled, tossing his spoon back into his bowl. He eyed me, then eyed the dark-skinned man. "No, Nazir. The mages at the college were always a bit more colorful. I've never seen robes like that."

"Um, it's actually a coat, not a robe," I muttered, but they did not hear me. I was simply amazed they thought the coat was white. I hadn't washed it in quite some time.

"Don't be shy," The woman with gray skin said, gesturing to the seat beside her. "None of us bite."

"I do," The little girl remarked with a smirk.

"Babette," Nazir warned.

"I'm not lying."

The girl's eyes followed me as I took tepid steps toward the seat beside the gray-skinned woman. As I got closer, I noticed something strange about the girl. Her eyes were red, and her features were quite sharp for someone so young. Was she ill? What diseases could there be to cause that? It's not like I would know the answer to that question, though. I'm a psychiatrist, in residency, not a physician, and certainly not a pediatrician.

As I took a seat, the gray-skinned woman nodded at Nazir.

"Do you mind getting our new friend something to eat?"

Nazir frowned. "Yes, I do mind."

Festus, the old man, cackled. "Careful, Nazir. You may just provide me some entertainment tonight. I have taught Gabriella that curse that almost turns someone inside-out, you know."

My throat tightened. "Huh?"

"Fine," Nazir grunted, rising from his seat and moving towards the roaring fire at the end of the room, where a cauldron filled with soup bubbled.

I wasn't able to focus on him for long, because Babette cleared her throat, drawing my attention.

"So, what's your name?"

Festus groaned. "Youngsters and their lack of decorum. You should introduce yourself, first."

Babette uttered a haughty laugh. "That fact that you of all people called me a youngster is laughable."

Festus paled, leaving me puzzled. "R-Right," Festus shifted in his seat. He was afraid of Babette. Why? "Old habit."

"All's forgiven," Babette remarked with a wave of her hand. "Anyways, Festus isn't wrong. Proper decorum should be observed, even if it is a little annoying. I'm Babette, and… and… and you must help me!" My eyes widened as genuine fear entered Babette's eyes. My heart hammered in my chest. "They have me trapped and are holding me for ransom! Please, you must-"

"Babette, knock it off," Nazir grumbled, placing a bowl of soup in front of me. "If you were a hostage, you'd be the most well-off hostage to ever live."

Babette rolled her eyes. "You can't let me have a little bit of fun?"

"Save the fun for your victims, not our family," The gray-skinned woman beside me serenely replied.

Babette huffed. "You're no fun either, Gabriella. How am I the one with all the youthful energy?"

I was so puzzled by the entire situation that I finally spoke, mostly out of confusion.

"Because you are a child and children typically have more energy than older adults."

Everyone was silent at the table. They were staring at me. I shrank beneath their gazes, unsure if I had said something wrong. Were they about to yell at me? Threaten me? Kill me? There were plenty of sharp objects at the table to accomplish the latter. How was I going to defend myself? I didn't even have those robes Astrid gave me on yet.

A snort came from Babette. Quite chuckles bubbled from Festus. Then Nazir uttered a sharp laugh. Gabriella dipped her head, snickering. Soon, the entire table was howling with laughter, and I was left just as confused as before. Thankfully, I wasn't as terrified now. A couple soft, nervous chuckles tumbled from my lips.

"Am I, um, missing something?"

Nazir grinned. "Oh, you have-"

"Nazir," Babette waved a hand and the dark-skinned man silenced himself. A sparkle of mischief danced in the girl's red eyes. Red eyes? I peered closer. That had to be some sort of condition. That, or people in Skyrim had strange genetics. I shook my head.

"Okay, greetings are done." I moved to push myself away from the table. "I'll-"

Nazir slid a bowl of stew in front of me. His other hand grasped my shoulder and planted me firmly in my seat. I winced.

"Nazir, no need to be so rough," Gabriella chided as she sipped a violet liquid from a brass goblet.

"I bothered to cook, so she can bother to eat with the family. Where is Veezara?"

"Good luck finding the lizard," Festus scoffed as he ladled some stew to his wrinkled lips.

I furrowed my brow. "I'm sorry, lizard?"

I jumped from my seat as someone leaped from a loft overlooking the dining room. A moss green hand covered in scales drew back a hood, revealing a reptilian head and yellow eyes with slitted pupils. My hand hovered over my spoon as I locked eyes with him, frozen in place. His gaze reminded me of a time I encountered a copperhead while out in the woods as a kid. Its eyes terrified me. As if it saw me as both a threat and prey at the same time, none of which would have turned out well for me. It did take a try at biting me, but my father got me away just in time.

So, have I mentioned I have a distinct fear of reptiles?

"Oh, she's gone pale as a wisp," Babette hummed. "Or me. What do you think, Festus? What shade?"

"Do I look like I bother with colors?" The old man grunted as he ate.

"I say she's turned quite the sickly shade of pale, but… well, I suppose I can't think of the right word for such a hue," Gabriella said with a small smile on her gray lips. "Nazir?"

Nazir eyed her as he sat down. "I agree with Festus. Does it honestly matter? I think what's more important is that she's clearly terrified of Veezara."

"So Veezara hasn't lost his touch yet. Good," Babette chirped. She leaned back in her seat. That's when I realized she didn't have a bowl in front of her. Not hungry, perhaps? "See that Veezara? You're plenty scary."

The lizard man took a seat next to the little girl. "I wasn't trying to be," he hissed, and the hairs on my neck stood on end.

Again, I wanted to leave, and again, Nazir's glare reminded me that was an ill-advised idea. So, I tried to distract myself. I absently stirred my stew, my lack of appetite becoming more apparent as hunger evaded me entirely. It also did not help that Nazir would not stop glaring at me. He snorted then took a bite of his meal as he shook his head.

"She won't survive."

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice coming out as a terrified squeak.

"Two days," Nazir said.

"One," Festus replied, slapping several gold coins on the table.

"Three," Veezara joined in, placing his own coins on the table.

"A week," Gabriella muttered between mouthfuls, "and I say she accidentally kills herself."

"Huh?" I gulped.

Babette uttered a slightly offended sound from her seat. "Are we really taking such bets on the fate of our newest sister? I must say, that's quite callous of us." She dug into a pocket in her maroon skirt. "Put me down for a month."

"A month!?" Nazir stated, the first hint of any emotion other than contempt leaving his lips.

"Generous, Babette," Festus said, reaching for her gold. "I thank you for your contribution to the coffers of Festus Krex-"

Babette bared her teeth as the old man's withered hand hovered over her gold. He froze a slight tremor in his fingertips. Nazir sucked in a sharp breath. Gabriella groaned, bowing her head. Veezara hummed as he picked at a hunk of meat with his fork. Meanwhile, I felt all of the blood drain from my face.

Since when do little girls have sharp canines? Not sharp as in ground down, or filed, but fangs. Why did I feel so cold and clammy? I squirmed in my seat as Festus withdrew his hand.

"Touchy?" He grumbled.

"Just for that, I say she's going to survive, period," Babette sealed her teeth behind a thin smile. "And I'll pocket your gold when that happens." She finished with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Now that's not fair, because if this girl- what's your name?" Veezara said, pointing a scaly claw at me.

"A-Anastasia," I stammered. "Or Anna, I guess."

"Yes, so if she survives, then that means all you have to do is wait for the rest of us to die first." Veezara glared at me. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," I gulped.

Several groans filled the table. Babette's cheeky smile grew as she snickered.

"And Gabriella was our youngest at twenty-eight, so I think I'm going to win in the end."

"I could just kill her now," Nazir pointed out.

Babette's head slowly turned to look at Nazir. Nazir folded his arms and then coughed into his hand.

"Just making a point. She looks as helpless as a lost kitten. And Astrid claims she's a mage just because of that strange staff on her back. Festus?"

"A staff a mage does not make," Festus stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Indeed it does not, but Astrid says she is one of us, so that is how it will be," Gabriella nodded. "Although, I do have to agree with the others, Babette. Your bet is rather unfair."

"Go get bitten by a vampire then, and you'll join me in seeing the end of all this," Babette said, leaning back in her seat.

Did I have any blood left in me? If so, it was as cold as Skyrim's frozen wind. First cat men, then lizard men, swords, arrows, magic, a staff that turned people into chickens on a whim, and now vampires? I almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Indeed, if I wasn't so afraid, I might have.

"So…" my fingers drummed the tabletop. "Babette, right? Are you-"

"Yes," Babette nodded. "And before you say anything else, it's quite rude to ask questions as to my actual age. But, given that you have such a morbid curiosity about it, I'll tell you. I'm three hundred years old, give or take several dozen years. It's difficult to keep track sometimes. As for my youthful good looks, well, vampirism tends to keep one rather fresh."

I slowly nodded. She was entirely serious. I could tell that much. Not a hint of deception in her eyes or in her voice. Her entire body language spoke the truth to me. That, and the slight lilt I now noticed in her voice, undoubtedly caused by her fangs. The longer my anxious silence lingered, the smarmier her grin became.

"Careful," Babette warned, "if I work up enough of an appetite tonight, I might just pay you a little… visit."

Her fangs appeared again. Blood pulsed through my ears. The distant chiding from Veezara and Babette sounded muffled. As if they were speaking from beyond a wall. My vision blurred. My eyes rolled. Vertigo hit me as my chair fell backward.

And for the third time in the past few days, I blacked out.

Well... looks like I might finally be awake.