Chapter 17

Not As It Seems

"Illusion is power, far more than you young apprentices realize. I'm not just talking about the school of magic which bears the name "Illusion," though that is included of course. I'm speaking of the ability to convince others to see what you want them to, to redirect their attention, to tell a convincing lie. You don't need magicka for a good sleight-of-hand trick and it may save your life, so pay attention to my instructions!"- Martina Floria, Wizard of the Arcane University, in a lecture given to young appreciates on the University grounds, 3E 427

"I suppose our informant was right to call Swindler's Den 'Unassuming.'" Lydia looked at the cave in the light of the fading sun, seeming unimpressed by the location the Alik'r had chosen as a base. "Personally I would call it pathetic. Not exactly the place high-price assassins would want to claim as a home base."

As much as he wanted to agree, Hammel didn't share Lydia's casual attitude. The stamina potion had done its trick, leaving his body warm and tingling. The dull ache of his cracked bones was a distant itch, a change for the better he felt. Still, as he held the Axe of Whiterun before him defensively he couldn't help but feel like he was stepping into his grave.

I haven't crossed blades since the dragon. Am I really capable of taking on these Redguards?

"It's a good tactical location," he suggested while glancing at the squat cave. It was one of many scattered across the tundra, this one particularly unimpressive and unimportant looking. In the distance a sabre cat howled, leading the nearby woolly rhinoceros to look up from chewing the grass long enough to determine the beast was too far away to be a threat to him. His dominance established, the rhinoceros returned to his meal of tall grass.

I wish I had the confidence of that great creature…

"It's close to Whiterun, close enough to the road to arrive at after about an hour of walking, but far enough away that, unless you're looking for it, you'll probably miss it." Hammel gazed at the cave's entrance, noticing it was darker than the surrounding dusk and hoped beyond hope he wouldn't find waiting scimitars inside.

"It's a good spot for an ambush," Lydia admitted, as if reading her Thane's mind, though she seemed unbothered by the possibility. "Do you want me to go first?"

More than you know.

"And have you call me a milk-drinker?" Hammel responded indignantly, tapping his iron helmet with the back of his war axe, "I've got a helmet on. I'll be fine."

Lydia snorted, "And you used crutches to get here," her sideways glance at said crutches, carefully laid against a nearby rock, was more damning than the words. "I'm not a dragon slayer, but a few bandits shouldn't prove any trouble."

"It's my choice to be here," he admitted, "I need to lead us."

"We don't have to go in at all you know," Lydia reminded him. "What are Saadia's problems to us?" He didn't deny this accusation, but stubbornly refused to give in. "What's a hundred Septims? Just take a contract with the Companions and you'll have all that wasted money back!"

Her logic was sound, but Hammel knew he needed to see this through.

"You don't have to join me," he told his housecarl, though they both knew that wasn't true. He tightened the chinstrap on his helmet, as if that adjustment would block a scimitar.

As a response, Lydia merely snorted.

Here we go.

With a muttered, "Talos and Azura preserve me," Hammel entered Swindler's Den, determined to find the truth of this situation he'd stumbled into.

Little did he know it was about to become far more complicated than he could have ever anticipated.

Aela smelled it before she saw it. The unmistakably coppery scent of spilled blood curdled by the sun and neglected by its owner.

The crows and vultures will eat well today.

It wasn't the main road she took to Falkreath, but it was one she'd walked many times. A comfortable route, all dirt, pines, and red squirrels. She'd hoped to avoid any trouble on this journey, but it seemed she was destined to find it anyways. She patted her horse on the neck and urged him to stop, before dismounting in one smooth motion. She took up her bow and moved stealthily towards the spilled blood.

A scene of carnage greeted her eyes. A squad of Legionaries lay dead upon the road, hacked to pieces with axes or shot full of arrows. No attempt had been made to hide these bodies, the blow clearly intended to be as psychological as it was physical. This was a message, and not a particularly subtle one. The Stormcloaks were striking deep into the heart of Imperial territory, they were anywhere and everywhere, they could not be stopped, they could find you and they would kill you.

The lack of Stormcloak bodies was an obvious ploy by Ulfric's rebels. Aela could see the drag marks where those bodies had been removed, but she was a trained Huntress. Perhaps a young conscript for Cyrodill would miss this deception and believe his foes couldn't be killed.

She snorted. "Crude," she said to no one, "But effective." She shook her head and returned to her horse. Whoever won the war was no business of hers, the Companions would continue to serve the people, and continue to seek glory. New members, like Greymist, would join, new contracts would be fulfilled and life would go on.

These thoughts were pushed aside because she had work to be done in Falkreath. Honor was at stake, both for herself and for her kind. Hircine had sent her and she wouldn't fail him.

Aela carried on, leaving the bodies behind and giving them no further thought.

Hammel had expected Swindler's Den to be full of bandits, just like the ruins most of his Companion contracts sent him too, but this cave seemed empty. This proved someone was actually living there because there was no way that any bear, boar, or ogre would leave such a cave unoccupied.

He knelt next to the stream, noting it flowed from between the stone before flowing deeper into the cave. He took a deep sip of the crystal cool water, granting temporary relief to his sore throat. Lydia, ever the dedicated warrior, followed his example, drinking deep with a mumbled, "By the gods that's good…"

The cave was silent, save for the gentle trickle of the river, it almost seemed to breathe.

Where are the Alik'r? What do they want?

He held his axe tightly in his primary hand, the Kiss in his off. He was ready for battle. The river moved into a deeper cave, ending in a small lake that held fish which would never see the light of the sun. If it wasn't for the threat of the Redguard killers, he would go fishing here.

Maybe I still will after I clean the Alik'r out.

Lydia held her shield in front of her, shoving past Hammel to take the point. He tried to protest but recognized the truth, she had the shield and the armor, she should take the lead.

The two entered the chamber, the sound of water cascading over the edge into a secondary lake below, made hearing difficult. Sure enough, some sort of fish was splashing around in the underground pond, seeming oblivious to the danger of going over the edge.

The rich voice from behind him was deep, and cautiously threatening, though not overtly hostile. Despite his best efforts to find any possible adversaries, Hammel had somehow missed him. "Stay your hand warrior, it's no secret why you're here. If you and your housecarl will lower your weapons, we will not attack."

Shit.

Hamel turned slowly, keeping his axe and dagger low. Despite her mumbled protests, Lydia did the same. The Alik'r had taken a ring position around them on the ledge above, higher up than Hammel had anticipated. There were eight men, seven with short bows, and all with scimitars. Hammel wasn't sure he could have killed one of them before their arrows found him and he certainly couldn't get the rest. The iron arrow heads gleamed in the darkness, looking sharper than any razor. Sweat ran down his neck, the cold chill of Arkay's hand gripping his heart.

"Lydia," Hammel ordered, "Lower your blade."

"Are you sure?"

"Do it."

Like a good housecarl, she complied, but for the second time in as many days, he knew she wasn't happy with his judgement.

"If they wanted to kill us they already would have." These words did little to encourage her.

The leader of the band, a man notably taller than the others, laughed boldly, "You are correct of course, but I believe we might have more in common than you think." He looked down at the two, "Can I come down? Or are we going to keep shouting?"

Hammel nodded, before turning to Lydia, "If this is who I think it is, he might need us more than he knows."

"And we're going to strike him down for the honor of your new woman?" Lydia asked, her tone venomous but not necessarily directed towards him. The housecarl's role was one of family loyalty, if Hammel was going to die in this cave for Saadia, so would she, whether she agreed with it or not. That knowledge gave Hammel pause, as did the Alik'r not immediately slaying them.

The leader bowed and kicked over a rope-ladder, climbing down to their level with great dexterity. When his boots touched the rock, he bowed, "I am Kematu, of the great Alik'r warriors, you are Hammel Greymist, Thane of Whiterun."

"You know a lot about me."

"Should I not know the name of the great dragon slayer?"

Hammel couldn't think of any response to that, so he asked that question burning a hole in his chest, "Why didn't you kill me?"

Kematu smiled, and Hammel noted he had gold teeth that gleamed in the darkness, "Because I believe we can help each other, Thane of Whiterun. I assume you are here to kill me?"

"I'm protecting Saadia from you…"

His response was rudely interrupted by Kematu's booming laughter, "Is that what she's calling herself these days? I always thought Shazra was a better alias!" He stopped, looking at Hammel, "Let me save you the trouble my friend. You were told some story of a poor girl on the run from murderous assassins, all for the crime of speaking out against The Dominion? She clung tightly to your chest and batted her eyelashes and cried, 'men are coming for my life! Please help me, strong, brave, warrior!'" He paused, before finishing with the utmost confidence, "Did I describe the situation accurately?"

"And yet here I find a cave full of armed men, who do look like they're coming to kill her," Hammel responded, trying to find some control but instead feeling like he'd come to a play halfway through and was being asked to catch up. "Why shouldn't I believe her?" At his side Lydia bristled, torn between her duty and common sense.

He could see Saadia's naked body, feel the warmth of her kisses against the chill of Skyrim, he could hear her words, both seductive and frightened. It reminded him of how La-Kisrasha had spoken to him before the Legion abandoned Free Elsweyr. The two women begin to blend together in his mind, clouding everything he thought he remembered about their meetings.

"She's not what she claims to be," Kematu said, his tone no longer jovial, "She is an agent of The Dominion, who sold out the port city of Taneth to the elves. If not for her information, and her direct hand in opening the gate, Taneth would have driven The Dominion off instead of falling to them." He paused, looking into the other man's heart, "It is on behalf of these Noble Houses that we've come so far. Justice must be done onto this traitor."

"You expect me to just believe you?" Hammel asked defensively, "To strike down a woman I've sworn to protect?" He gritted his teeth, "You expect me to throw away my honour for what? For coin?"

Kematu held up his hands defensively, "Nothing so dramatic as all that, and you are of course entitled to a share of the bounty, but you will not kill the traitor, in fact, none of us will." He paused, before adding, "She will be taken back to Hammerfell to face justice. You have my word that she will not be harmed by me or any in my company. We are enemies of the elves and their supporters, but we are men of honour. She will face justice, not vengeance."

"But do you have proof?" Hammel asked again, scrambling for anything that could provide him with clarity, a clear path forward. Kematu and Saadia's words battled in his mind for dominance, both seeming to be true.

"Alas," Kematu admitted, "Aside from my words, and my actions which I hope should make you at least consider those words as truthful, I have none." He gave a most peculiar expression, "I understand my face isn't nearly as pretty as hers, but deep down, you know which of us is telling the truth. And you know it's not Saadia." He looked at Hammel, almost looking through him, "She sent you here to kill me, or die in the attempt. I only want to bring her back to stand before the people of Taneth to tell them why she betrayed her homeland." He looked at Hammel, a degree of sympathy in his voice, "All I ask is that you lead her out of the city. I will take care of the rest."

"I could kill you here," Hammel said, his words free of malice but not intent. "I'm pretty fast with this axe, and Lydia will help me."

"That is a possibility, I'll admit, but will you also manage to kill my seven archers? Are you faster than arrows, especially with bones so recently broken?" Instinctevely, Hammel felt the wince of pain in his chest and leg, "Will one of us die this day, forgotten in a cave because of another's manipulation? Or will we part as allies, both a little richer, for our trouble?"

Hammel stood there, struggling to put his ideas together.

What's it going to be? Who am I going to trust?

The woman in the dark robe strode forward, her face hidden beneath a hood. Somehow Lianna knew the mysterious woman hated her. She held an elvish sword with a constant stream of blood running down the blade, neither rusting the weapon nor drying up. Other figures, golden in color, stood in her wake but didn't approach.

Lianna watched in horror, paralyzed. Standing protectively in front of her was an Altmer man. He looked so familiar it made her heart ache not to recognize him. His hair was long and golden, an Altmer longsword clutched in his hands. His silver chainmail was torn, his green cloak was tattered, and his blood flowed from various wounds like a waterfall.

The forest around them was so dark it blotted out the sunlight. The trees closed in, their branches outstretched like grasping fingers. She was afraid of this place, but didn't remember why.

She'd been here before, she knew it.

The elf with the sword battled valiantly, but the woman was relentless. Lianna fought with all her might to force her feet free, to dash forward and help him, but she remained trapped. She tried screaming, crying out for help, but nothing escaped her throat. Her eyes would not close, no matter how hard she tried to shut them.

It happened in a blur. One minute the Altmer was fighting, the next he was staggering backward, a bloody gash in his chest from where the woman had mortally wounded him. As the elf turned to face Lianna, his face morphed into another's.

Carver Wolfheart, her father.

He looked at her with his dying expression, then fell.

Lianna sat straight up in bed gasping for breath. Her whole body shook, the tips of her ears quivering, as Windhelm's cool night air rushed into her lungs. The bed was soaked in sweat, as was she. Lianna practically leaped out of her husband's arms, striding naked across the room and flinging open the bedroom's window. Gripping the windowsill for dear life, she leaned out over the city and breathed in deeply.

A gentle wind blew the falling snowflakes against her skin and tossed her hair but couldn't cool her down. She couldn't tell if the salt she was tasting was from the sweat running down her face, or her tears.

"Darling?" Ralof's words were slurred as he rolled about in their bed, rubbing a hand across his eyes, "What's wrong?"

For just a moment she considered giving him the lie of "Nothing, I'm fine," but Ralof would sniff out her deception in a heartbeat. Besides, she was too frightened to pretend to be strong.

"I had the nightmare," she tightened her grip on the windowsill and stared outward.

It was a small home they owned, paid for with a rebel's salary. Though it was cramped, the view was spectacular. Windhelm's market district was spread out below them, the smithy was working his fire in preparation for the day's customers. Two Stormcloaks patrolled the streets and, if not for their helms, Lianna probably could have named them.

"The same one as last time?" Ralof was concerned, but not patronizing. She could imagine the look crossing his handsome features, he was a gentle man, and the sight of anyone suffering, particularly his "Frost Thistle," filled his heart with grief.

"Worse." She wrapped her arms around her torso tightly. The temperature was finally starting to affect her, leading Lianna to shiver. " I saw him die this time," her voice cracked with the final two words.

Daddy, his gaze forever frozen as he died, and she unable to do anything about it.

Ralof embraced her from behind, pulling her close and holding her tight. His beard tickled her neck as he kissed her cheek tenderly. The stoic elf let herself melt into her husband's strong embrace. Without shame she began crying bitterly, burying her head in his shoulder. He held her gently, rocking her back and forth.

"Your father's death wasn't your fault," he told her softly, stroking her midnight hair with a free hand. "You did all you could."

She didn't answer, instead fighting to control herself. Ralof didn't speak again, content to hold her.

She was eternally grateful to the Talos for giving him to her. When everyone else had been taken from her, he'd remained. She prayed nothing would ever change that.

"I didn't know you were involved in that trouble at the stables around sundown," Kodlak said, holding his mug of mead in a loose grip, "Those Redguards taking that prisoner back to Hammerfell caused quite the stir." He paused again, looking at Hammel with concern, "I wouldn't have wanted to be in your shoes."

Hammel looked down into his own mead, his reflection glaring up at him accusingly. "I had to make a choice," he said at length, the words hollow even in his own ears. "I still don't know if it was the right one."

The two men sat alone in one of Jorrvaskar's many rooms, Kodlak had summoned him with some kind of proposition, but still hadn't revealed it. Hammel couldn't help himself, instead of asking about the offer, he began vomiting out his self-doubt and self-conflict. He felt worse than he had in many days.

He led Saadia to the stables, told her he'd arranged a horse. It was a lie. There was no horse. Instead, Kematu was waiting for her. She didn't even suspect. She trusted him completely and that stung him worse than any dragon's spine.

"How often must we make choices in this life," Kodlak mused, taking a long drink of mead, "And how often those choices lack an obvious answer."

"What is this?" Saadia demanded, turning on him with eyes full of hate and pain. "You sold me out!" She glared, "I trusted you!"

The phantom of Saadia drifted past his eyes, the warmth of her mouth ghosting across his lips. "I think I was led astray. I acted foolishly at first." It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the mead didn't make it go down easier. "I didn't think with my head."

"Did you follow your heart instead?" Kodlak probed, keeping his tone neutral.

"Come now," Kematu said derisively, "You didn't think you could manipulate your way out of justice forever, did you?" Hammel looked on as the Alik'r cast a paralysis spell on Saadia. He watched in horror as the woman he'd been intimate with froze and fell with a thud. It was like he'd been stabbed in the gut.

"I thought I did," Hammel murmured, sipping his mead, "But I don't know anymore." Saadia flashed naked through his mind again, tempting him with intimacy that could have still been his had he not turned her over to Kematu.

Or maybe not, maybe it was all just a ploy. Maybe if he'd brought her Kematu's head she'd never have looked at him again. He'd never know.

"I think she could have been lying, she could have been playing me the whole time." He didn't want to believe it, but deep down it made sense.

"I knew you were someone too smart to be manipulated by a pretty face," Kematu boasted, looking down at the paralyzed Saadia.

"She won't be harmed?" Hammel asked, not sure why that mattered now but still feeling something resembling protective instincts even as he fought against them.

"Not until a trial," Kematu said, "I can promise you that."

"What made you change your mind?" Kodlak asked, sounding more curious than anything else, as if trying to lead Hammel to the answer, rather than simply giving it to him.

Hammel didn't answer, he didn't want to answer.

"Here," Kematu threw the bag of coins at his feet, "Your payment, as promised."

Hammel looked down at the money with disgust. "I don't want it."

"Do you want the truth, Kodlak? Or do you want the answer that would make me happy?" There was a bitterness to his tone, an intensity of hatred he wasn't anticipating. He knew that hatred wasn't directed towards Kematu or even Saadia.

"You know the answer to that," Kodlak rumbled, "A warrior is never afraid of the truth, even if it hurts."

"Suit yourself," Kematu responded, picking up the bag and returning it to his pouch. "It's been a real pleasure, Thane of Whiterun."

"I can't say the same."

He watched them take Saadia away, he watched until she disappeared over the horizon and then he watched some more. He didn't want to face Lydia, or anyone. He felt more wretched than anyone who'd ever lived.

"I knew a woman that beautiful couldn't love me, not really," He paused, "I suppose I knew deep down I was paying her, just with a different currency than I typically used for companionship. I'm the Thane of Whiterun, the dragon slayer! That's a good man to have in your pocket, eh?" He laughed, but it rang hollow and bitter. "Her story didn't make sense in and of itself. I just wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe she wanted me."

La-Kisrasha's wounded face flashed before his eyes, a woman who'd never asked him for coin. For a moment, he smelt the smells of Elsweyr, felt the heat of its sands, tasted its food. But like La-Kisrasha herself, it went away and he was alone.

"A hard lesson to be sure," Kodlak said, not without sympathy, "I was a young man once too." That was all he said on the matter.

Did I do right by Hammerfall? Did I do right by Whiterun? Was Saadia really lying?

"I know you've already made a difficult choice," Kodlak began, as if the previous conversation had never happened. "But I'm going to offer you another." He drained his mug, putting it down on the table. "I've been impressed with you, and so is Aela. Even Skjor has begrudgingly acknowledged respect, and he isn't known to be easily impressed."

That perked up Hammel's ears. Without finishing his drink, he put his mug down and looked up, "What are you saying?"

"I'm asking if you want the chance to try and join The Circle." The words hit hard, like a bolt of thunder.

"What?"

"I'm asking if you want the chance to try for The Circle. This is not an invitation, you understand, you'd have to earn it," Kodlak's tone was serious and grave. "The Circle is a great honor, but it isn't free from commitment and, much like the choice you had to make today, isn't without murkiness."

"What is the trial?" Hammel asked, head spinning, Saadia blending with La-Kisrasha, who was blending with the captain who sent him to the block. Aela was in his mind, Lydia joined her, Balgruuf, Ralof, Clob, Lianna, and many more forced themselves into his mind. He knew this was another crossroad. His head spun with indecision. Was this his destiny? Was The Circle the path Azura had laid out for him? How could he even know?

"I can't tell you that unless you agree," Kodlak said, "But I can say you may die during it. However, if you survive you'll be given all the secrets and power The Circle has. I believe you are capable, but ultimately only you can know that."

Hammel looked down at his hands. He was so unsure, so full of doubt. Saadia and Klematu had shaken his confidence tremendously.

"Can I have a few days?"

Kodlak nodded, "We need to wait for Aela anyway. Take the time you need and make the decision." He clapped Hammel's shoulder, "Don't look back, Greymist. Choices were made but fate was already set. Before we were even born, our destinies were forged. Don't dwell on the past, go forward with honor."

Easier said than done.

Instead, what he said audibly was, "I'll do my best."