The Neveragaine Strikes Back, Revenge of the Killer Ada Options

[Helena]

Since I'm apparantly allowed more than one fanfic at once here, I decided to take advantage of it and start posting my latest fic, 'The Neveragaine Strikes Back'. Bear in mind that this is the sequel to 'The Neveragaine' (covering the events of Tribunal), so it's best to read the original story in full before starting on this one. Updates will also be a lot slower on this fic, as I've only just started writing it.

So, onto the prologue:

Prologue: Trouble In Paradise

As a fighter, I was always taught that you should never let your guard down. If things seem unusually quiet, it’s often a sign that the enemy’s just getting prepared and all hell is about to break loose. If I’d only remembered that, perhaps none of this would ever have happened.

After more than six months of living as the Nerevarine, I was still struggling to get used to being Vvardenfell’s hot new celebrity. For the first few weeks it was fantastic: everywhere I went there’d be people bowing and scraping, saying things like “Almsivi bless you, Nerevarine,” and “how may I serve you, Incarnate?” and “please may I lick your boots clean for you, Nerevar-Born-Again?” But after a month had gone by, and people were still collapsing into stammering incoherence whenever I so much as spoke to them, the excitement was starting to wear off pretty quickly. I even considered visiting Telvanni areas just for the novelty of being treated with polite indifference (or even not-so-polite indifference).

Things just got crazier as time went on. Before long there were people turning up at Bal Isra for pilgrimages – yes, honest-to-goodness pilgrimages. Some of them even seemed to believe I had mystical healing powers of some sort, and could heal their sick friends and relatives just by touching them. I had enormous trouble convincing them that I was just an ordinary mortal rather than some sort of divine being.

“No, seriously,” I would plead. “I’d love to help you, I really would, but I’m useless at magic. You need to go and see a healer.”

I felt so guilty about disappointing them that I usually paid for a healer’s fee, and of course, word quickly got around. Eventually I caved in and learned a couple of spells to cure diseases and suchlike. I managed to persuade the Temple to install a healing shrine so that I wouldn’t have to cure everyone personally, which was not how I planned to spend the rest of my (potentially eternal) life.

Indarys Manor itself was doing quite well. I’d made quite a nice little pile by selling off the Sixth House artifacts I’d collected at Red Mountain (and hadn’t blown all of it on expensive gowns imported from Cyrodiil), so there was plenty of money for improvements. The population had grown to around twenty (plus guards), and we even had our own silt strider port going to Maar Gan and Ald’ruhn.

Things in House Redoran had also improved quite a bit since the fall of Dagoth Ur. The Blight was gone, and ashstorms were a lot less frequent now, making the Ashlands a much nicer place to live in. Arethan Mandas – the ‘Mad Lord of Milk’ – was back in Ald’ruhn under his daughter’s care, and as for Hlaren Ramoran, his relationship with his bodyguard Nalvyna seemed to be progressing nicely. When things got particularly boring in Council meetings, we’d sometimes catch him staring dreamily off into the distance, humming a little tune to himself.

If only the Council business had been going half as well. When I was first appointed Archmaster, I’d dreamed of creating a new House: a House with the honour of Redoran, the enterprise of Hlaalu, and … well, I’m sure there must be something good about the Telvanni. Top of my list of ‘improvements’ was abolishing the ridiculous system of ‘advancement by honourable duel’. If someone thought they would make a better leader than me, they could damn well explain why they thought it instead of dragging me out to the Arena.

But I’d reckoned without the Redoran council – the stickiest stick-in-the-muds ever to gum up the workings of government. I’d propose some trivial change – at least, one that seemed trivial to me – and they’d look at me as if I’d suggested holding a revolution and overthrowing the Tribunal. “But we’ve always done it this way,” were the words I’d come to dread.

I soon sussed out who I could count on to support or oppose me. Athyn Sarethi was generally (though not always) on my side, and together with Brara Morvayn, we formed what I’d come to think of as the ‘liberal wing’ of the Council. Lined up against us were Hlaren Ramoran, Miner Arobar and Garisa Llethri – making a nicely-balanced three on each side, which didn’t exactly help with decision-making. As Archmaster I technically had the casting vote, but I didn’t want over-use it and turn the others against me.

It didn’t help that the other Councillors were still struggling with the idea of a human Archmaster. I wouldn’t have minded so much, except that they seemed to deal with it by treating me as a sort of honorary Dunmer. As a result I had to sit through meeting after meeting, grinding my teeth, while the others whinged endlessly about Imperials and the Empire and what a bunch of greedy honourless bastards we all were. (Not in those exact words, obviously, but that was the gist of it.)

Athyn could usually be counted on to smooth things over when they got too heated. But relations between me and Athyn were slightly strained at the moment, mainly because of Varvur.

Ah, yes. Me and Varvur Sarethi.

******

We spent as much time as we could together after Red Mountain, which wasn’t easy. I was the Redoran Archmaster, living in Bal Isra, while Varvur was training to be a Buoyant Armiger and spent most of his time in Vivec (the city, not… oh, never mind).

Even when we did manage to get together, we still had to find places where we could talk (and other things) in secret. Not to mention getting hold of sterility potions, without tipping off the whole of Vvardenfell that the Nerevarine had a lover. I eventually managed to get some from Sharn gra-Muzgob, after swearing her to secrecy on pain of having her necromantic activities reported to the Temple.

In order to see as much of me as possible on his visits to Ald’ruhn, Varvur came up with the idea of teaching me Dunmeris. After six months in Morrowind I could already understand it reasonably well, but speaking it was another matter. I’d never been much good at languages, but luckily Varvur had lots of patience.

“Conjugate the verb ‘to love’,” he said to me one day.

“I already know that one.” It was one of the first I’d learned.

“Never mind, let’s do it again.” He began to recite the verb forms in Tamrielic, and I repeated them back to him in Dunmeris. “He loves you. She loves you. They love you. We love you.” He slid his hand under the table and gently closed his fingers around mine. “I love you.”

My heart was starting to race, but I grasped his hand tightly and repeated the words in Dunmeris. “I love you.”

From then on, we were as close to engaged as we’d ever be without announcing it officially. The only problem was that Varvur’s parents still didn’t know about it. When we’d first started seeing each other, we’d held off telling them because we weren’t sure it would last – but now, in hindsight, that was starting to look like a bad idea. How would they react when they found out we’d been shagging each other in secret for months on end?

In my more optimistic moments, I told myself that it would be okay. After all, it wasn’t like I was a penniless nobody any more – I was the Redoran Archmaster and a high-ranking Imperial knight, not to mention a famous hero. I’d have been a pretty good match for Varvur if it weren’t for my low birth and – of course – the fact that I wasn’t a Dunmer. But surely that wouldn’t matter so much to people as kind and tolerant as the Sarethis?

“We’re going to have to tell them some day,” I said to Varvur, as we lay in each other’s arms somewhere in the Grazelands.

“I know,” he said, sighing. “I wish now that we had told them at the start. It would have been more honourable, certainly. But it’s too late now.”

I nuzzled up against him. “Do you think they have someone else in mind for you, perhaps? Some Redoran noblewoman?”

“I doubt it. If they had, they would at least have introduced me to her by now. I think they believe I’m too young to marry.” He paused. “Besides, you are a Redoran noblewoman.”

“Well… technically.” I knew I wasn’t kidding anyone with that one.

“And the Nerevarine besides,” he went on. “If Nerevar reborn is not good enough for them, who would be?”

I didn’t answer for a second or two. Varvur’s words had brought to mind something that had been niggling at me for quite some time.

“Varvur… doesn’t it ever bother you?” I said at last. “That I’m the Nerevarine?”

“No,” he said, looking surprised. “At least, not any more.” He gave me a searching look. “And you? Does it bother you?”

“I… well, it’s just…” I was struggling to find words to express what I felt. “Ever since Red Mountain, it’s like everyone has gone completely insane. People are treating me like I really am Saint Nerevar. And…”

“Yes?”

I took a deep breath. “I just have this horrible feeling that someday, they’re all going to wake up and realise I’m not nearly as great as they thought I was. Even you.”

“No,” he said instantly. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, kissing me almost fiercely. “No. I love Ada, not the Nerevarine.”

I felt tears prick my eyes. Neither of us said anything else, but we tacitly agreed to put off telling The Folks a little while longer. And of course, eventually the inevitable happened and Athyn found out.

I’d gone to Varvur’s room for ‘comfort’ during one of my occasional bouts of painful homesickness, and Athyn walked in on us. He didn’t actually catch us in bed together, thank Dibella – that would just have been too much of a cliché – but he did find me sitting half-naked in Varvur’s lap, with his arms around me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at us for a moment and then closed the door again, but I think he realised we hadn’t been practising verb inflections this time.

I slid off Varvur’s lap, grabbing at my robe, and made for the door – but he caught my arm before I could get any further. “No, Ada, you go back to Bal Isra. I will talk to him.”

“It’s my job,” I said flatly, but he shook his head.

“No, let me. He’s my father, and it is my dishonour for keeping this from him. I should have told him earlier.”

Before I could protest he was hurrying off after his father, leaving me torn between following him or chickening out and heading off home. I hesitated for a few moments, then poked my head out of the door just in time to see them both disappear into Athyn’s study.

There wasn’t much to do except teleport back to Bal Isra. I felt guilty about leaving Varvur to face the music alone, but at the same time I couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved that the truth was out. Okay, so this was a slightly awkward way for it to happen, but surely a man as fair and reasonable as Athyn would come round eventually?

But my hopes were dashed when Varvur showed up at Indarys Manor the next morning. From the grim expression on his face, I guessed his father hadn’t reacted by breaking out the shein and discussing wedding presents.

“What happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“You know my father. He doesn’t get angry, he just…” Varvur broke off, sighing heavily. “He asked if the two of us were sleeping together.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him that we were, of course. And then he asked why I hadn’t told him earlier, so I tried to explain – but I could see he was not happy about it.”

“What happened then?”

Varvur’s fists clenched. “He started… lecturing me. As if I were a child still. Telling me that I should be beyond the age of ‘infatuations’ with human women. That I should have more respect for you, and not make promises I couldn’t… keep.”

My jaw dropped. “Could you have believed it? I am not fourteen years old any longer! So… well, I am afraid I lost my temper a little.” He heaved another gusty sigh. “I told him that this was not an ‘infatuation’ and we were in love. And that I had made no promises to you, but that if I had, I certainly would not break them.”

“Well… that doesn’t sound so bad,” I said. “Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. If we can persuade him that we’re really in love with each other – ”

Varvur was shaking his head. “There’s more. He started repeating lies he had heard about you – malicious gossip and slander. I would never have believed it of my father.”

“Lies?” That didn’t sound at all like Athyn. “What sort of lies?”

He waved a hand angrily. “They are not worth repeating! And so I said to him. I told him I wouldn’t listen to any more of it, and then I left.”

There was a long silence. I was beginning to see just how badly wrong I’d been when I blithely assumed Athyn would give us his blessing.

“What about your mother?” I asked. “Do you think she’ll be on our side?”

He shook his head again. “I doubt it. I don’t like to speak ill of my mother, but… she is prejudiced against humans. She likes you because you helped our family, but if my father doesn’t want me to marry an Imperial, she certainly would not.”

“So what do we do?” I said at last. “Varvur… I really wouldn’t want to get married without your parents’ approval. Especially your father’s. After the way he’s treated me, and everything he’s done for me… I just couldn’t.”

He nodded. “No, I don’t wish to either. I could never do that to my parents. I suppose we will just have to wait, and hope that they change their minds.”

So we did, and a bloody uncomfortable wait it was. We still had to meet in secret to avoid any publicity, but now we had to do it in the full knowledge that Varvur’s parents knew, and disapproved. In a way it was harder for me than for Varvur – not that he didn’t love his father, but to me Athyn was a friend and mentor, the man who’d made me everything I was today. I knew I’d disappointed him, and I felt terrible about it.

To make things worse, Athyn and I had to see each other practically every day to discuss business. He never actually said anything to me about Varvur, but I could sense the tension between us whenever we met – and to be honest, I couldn’t entirely blame him. I knew I couldn’t exactly be the daughter-in-law he’d always dreamed of.

Sometimes I found myself wondering if it was even worth it. There were so many practical problems in the way of my relationship with Varvur, and not just because of race and background. We came from totally different cultures, worshipped different gods... and then, of course, there was the issue of children. For some reason, the children of mixed-race marriages always take on the mother’s race – so any kids I had with Varvur would be Imperials, not Dunmer. They would grow old and die long before their grandparents, let alone their parents.

In the end, it might have been easier for both of us if we’d just given up and gone our separate ways. The only problem was that I loved him.

Things couldn’t go on like this, of course. Something had to give. But when the crisis came, it happened in a way I most definitely would not have expected.

[Helena]

Chapter 3: O Brother Where Art Thou

Godsreach was an upmarket residential district, its tidy, well-kept streets lined with imposing two-storey mansions. It was far too small to be the only housing district in Mournhold, so I guessed this was just where the wealthiest citizens lived. It was quite impressive – though nothing compared to the Imperial City, I thought, with patriotic pride.

But there was something about the place – the whole of Mournhold, in fact – that made me feel slightly uneasy. Maybe it was the high walls that surrounded each district, blocking out the view of the outside world. Maybe it was the fact that everything felt a little too clean and shiny. Or maybe it was the High Ordinators that lurked on every corner, watching you like a hawk from behind those creepy face-shaped helmets.

The Winged Guar was in the north-west and wasn’t hard to find, as there were quite a few people outside on the terrace enjoying the warm weather. The large buildings nearby seemed to be public halls of some kind – I’d have to check those out if I got the time.

Inside the Winged Guar were a good number of outlanders as well as native Dunmer, and I counted at least one of almost every race (me included). I was a little surprised to see that the guy behind the bar was a Khajiit – not that it’s especially unusual for Khajiit to run taverns, but I hadn’t really expected to see it in an upper-class Indoril district. However, when I spoke to Ra’tesh (that was his name), he told me that the actual owner was an Altmer named Hession.

I’d had a tiring day, mentally as well as physically, so I rented a bed from Hession and went to bed as soon as I’d bathed and had dinner. My room contained three single beds and not much else – it looked like a dorm in the Fighters’ Guild, only more comfortable. Before going to sleep, I locked the door carefully and dragged one of the bedside tables in front of it. I wasn’t really expecting to be attacked by assassins that night, but if they did try anything, at least I’d hear them coming.

But none came. The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, I went to the Bazaar and asked the Redguard smith there about mercenaries in Mournhold. Since I didn’t want to let on that I was planning to hire one, I pretended I was looking for mercenary work myself.

“Well, there’s plenty of work around,” he told me. “With all the troubles on Vvardenfell, any decent mercenaries demand fancy wages there, and get them, no questions asked. Doesn’t leave much choice around here for hiring. That Imperial fellow at the Palace, Calvus Horatius, is the only one I know about.”

“Calvus Horatius?”

“He’s new to Mournhold. No reputation, no references – but he looks like a veteran, and has an honest face.”

I thanked him and set off for the Royal Palace, guessing correctly that I’d find Calvus in the courtyard. He was a stocky Imperial man in his early thirties, with auburn hair and dark-blue eyes – probably Colovian, then. His gear was fairly simple – chainmail armour and an Imperial steel broadsword – but as the smith had said, he looked like a veteran. It was something about the way he held himself.

We stood there for a few seconds, sizing each other up, and then he smiled at me. I smiled back.

“If you’re looking for someone to watch your back, I’m available for hire.” He didn’t sound very hopeful.

“I was, as a matter of fact.”

“Really? I’m surprised. You look like you can take care of yourself.”

I couldn’t help feeling rather pleased. It was a long time since I’d had an honest compliment from someone who a) knew what they were talking about and didn’t already know who I was. “I can, but I still have to sleep now and again. I need someone to guard me from attacks by the Dark Brotherhood.”

He drew a sharp, hissing breath. “The Brotherhood? Wow. How did you get mixed up with… hold on, I probably don’t want to know, do I?”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell you even if you did,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve no idea who hired them to kill me. I’m hoping I might find some answers in their lair down in the sewers. Do you know your way around down there?”

“I do, as it happens. That is, I’ve never been to the Brotherhood hideout myself, but I can take you there… if you pay me enough.” He held out a hand. “Calvus Horatius, by the way.”

“Ada Ventura.” He didn’t react to the name. That was fine by me; I certainly didn’t feel like explaining my whole life story.

“Well, my fee is 250 septims for 30 days. I’ve got my own gear and gold, but you could always buy me better gear if you want to improve my effectiveness. Think of it as an investment in your future,” he added with a wink.

250 septims a month wasn’t a bad deal – it was roughly what I used to make in Cyrodiil, before any extra loot I managed to scavenge along the way. “Okay,” I said. “Deal. Here’s half the money, and I’ll pay you the rest once the contract is up, presuming you manage to keep me alive.”

“At your service, ma’am. He saluted smartly, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. I liked the guy already.

We headed off to the Bazaar to buy Calvus some better gear. Unfortunately the smith’s selection wasn’t great – mostly low-grade iron and steel stuff – but I didn’t have time to search around town for something better. I outfitted him with iron greaves, boots and pauldrons, and then we set off to find the sewer entrance.

Calvus told me a bit about himself as we went. He was Colovian, as I’d guessed, and he’d grown up in a small village near the city of Skingrad before joining the Legion as a guard. He was a bit evasive about how he’d ended up in Morrowind, and I didn’t press him to tell me. We all had our skeletons in the closet, after all.

“What about you?” he asked. “Hold on, let me guess. You’re too pale to be a Heartlander, and your accent… hmm, Chorrol?”

I laughed. “Close. I was based there for a few years, so I guess I must have picked up the accent. I actually grew up in the Imperial City.”

“Ah. Nibenese.”

There was just something about the way he said it that set up my hackles. “Is that a problem?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“No, no,” he said innocently, but I could tell he wasn’t going to let this go. We Nibenese – people from south-eastern Cyrodiil and the Heartlands – have always been at odds with the Colovians of the north and west. It’s a friendly rivalry these days, but still a rivalry.

We’d almost reached the sewer grate when it occurred to me that I was running low on Cure Poison potions. Considering who we were about to fight, it would probably be a good idea to fix that. There were a bunch of indoor shops in the Bazaar as well as the open-air stalls, but I wasn’t sure if any of them sold potions. A young Dunmer in Western-style clothing was hanging around nearby, so I decided to ask him.

“Excuse me,” I said. The man turned towards me, and his face lit up.

“Well, hel-lo there,” he growled. “Aren’t you a tasty dish? You must be new to Mournhold – I’d have recognized that beautiful face otherwise.” He swept an overly-elaborate bow in my direction. “Fons Beren at your service, milady. A man who loves beautiful women.”

I nearly burst out laughing. He couldn’t be for real, surely? He sounded like Crassius Curio with a bad chest infection.

“Nice to meet you, er... Fons,” I said, managing to keep a straight face. “I was wondering if – ”

“Yes indeed,” he interrupted. “A great lover, by all accounts – feel free to ask around, of course. But let’s not waste any more time. Shall we skip the formalities, and just head back to my manor?”

I heard a choking sound from Calvus behind me, followed by what sounded like a heavy coughing fit. B*stard.

“Don’t worry about my friend,” I said loudly to the puzzled-looking Fons. “He can’t help it. Colovian, you know. Anyway… I’m sorry, Fons, but I already have a boyfriend. Besides, you’re… not really my type.”

“Not your type? Take another look, baby – I’m every woman’s type!” I gave him a Look. “…No, eh? Well, do you have any cute friends?”

I thought briefly of Marena Gilnith, but instantly dismissed the idea. The poor girl hadn’t done anything to deserve this. “No, sorry. I don’t know anyone else in Mournhold.”

“Well, I suppose that figures.” He sighed. “You know what they say about the cute ones – they always have ugly friends, anyway. But, ah, let me know if you should happen to run into any cute girls, will you? I’m sure they’d be anxious to find out what you’re going to miss out on...”

I murmured something non-committal and turned away, deciding I could do without the extra potions. We hadn’t even got into the sewers yet, and already I felt like I needed a bath.

Calvus was still grinning as we walked towards the sewers. “If you want me to pretend to be your lover, ‘milady’, you’re going to have to pay me extra.”

“What?” Suddenly I realised what he meant. “Oh… no, I really do have a boyfriend. In fact, we’re engaged… well, sort of.”

“How can you be ‘sort of’ engaged?”

I didn’t exactly feel like telling him the whole story. “He’s… a Redoran nobleman’s son. His family aren’t happy about it.”

“Ah.” He didn’t ask me anything more.

The Khajiit woman I’d seen the day before was still hanging around in the sewer entrance. She didn’t look pleased to see me and Calvus, but she didn’t attack us either. “Nice day for it,” I said, keeping my hand on my sword hilt.

The woman scowled. “Ahnia does not know you, so Ahnia has nothing to say to you.”

“Fine. You leave us alone and we’ll leave you alone, OK?” She shrugged, and said nothing. I kept a wary eye on her until Calvus and I had rounded the corner.

We retraced the route I’d taken the day before, Calvus leading the way. I mentioned how weird it was that the sewers didn’t really look like sewers. “That’s because they’re not,” he said.

“No?”

“Well… not originally, at least. It’s a sewer now, but most of the tunnels down here are actually what’s left of Old Mournhold. The place was destroyed at the end of the First Era, and the new city was built on top of it.”

“Really?” I shivered. It was slightly creepy to think we were walking through the ruins of a buried, forgotten city.

By now we had almost reached the place where I’d seen skeletons earlier, and I could hear them rattling around in the distance. No point trying to sneak past this time – I had a Chameleon amulet, but Calvus didn’t. He watched with interest as I carefully drew my glass frostsword from its sheath.

“Nice sword.” He winked. “Like me to show you how to hold it?”

I glared at him. “No, but I’ll tell you where you can shove it, tomato-grower.”

“I’ll thank you not to insult my proud tomato-growing heritage, city girl. Besides – ”

We must have been whispering a little too loudly, because at that moment I heard an echoey roar and the sound of skeletal footsteps clattering towards us. Both of us grabbed our swords and prepared to attack, forgetting our regional differences for a moment.

Fighting side by side, it didn’t take the two of us long to clear out all the skeletons. Most of them carried weapons as old and mouldy as their ‘bodies’, but one had a silver katana that was in relatively good condition. I pulled it out of his bony hand and handed it to Calvus with a flourish.

“There,” I said with a wink. “Now you won’t need to be jealous of mine.”

“Thanks.” He took a rag from his pocket and attempted to wipe the blade. “Where’d you get that glass thing, anyway?”

“I found it in a cave.”

“What, just lying around?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” I said, shrugging. “It’s amazing what you can find just lying around in caves in Vvardenfell.”

“Ah yes, Vvardenfell. Land of milk and honey.” He sighed. “I should have headed that way myself, shouldn’t I?”

By this time we’d reached the chamber with two exits. “This is as far as I got yesterday,” I whispered to Calvus. “Know which one leads to the Dark Brotherhood?”

He nodded, and pointed towards the lower passage – the one that was half-filled with water. I groaned. “Think it’s shallow enough to wade through?”

“I doubt it. I haven’t tried it myself, but I hear the water’s twelve foot deep in places.”

We exchanged glances. “Crap. Oh well, I guess there’s only one thing for it.”

Calvus folded his arms and grinned as I began to unbuckle my armour. “Well, it didn’t take you long to start getting your kit off,” he remarked. “I mean, I’d heard things about Nibenese women, but – ”

I lunged at him, but he dodged the blow. “Hey! I’m supposed to be protecting you, remember? Besides, that was just payback for the ‘tomato-grower’ comment.”

Rolling my eyes, I turned away and ducked behind a pillar to finish undressing. I finally emerged, stripped down to my underwear, to find Calvus had done the same. He was strongly-built and muscular, and I felt an instant flutter of attraction towards him. In the past I wouldn’t have minded, but now it made me uncomfortable – it felt like a betrayal of Varvur.

Calvus’ reaction to seeing me near-naked was a bit less subtle. “Holy sh*t.”

He was staring directly at my chest. My hands were already balling into fists when I realised what he was actually looking at – the scars. “What the hell did that? A werewolf?”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said stiffly. Even half a year on, I was still self-conscious about those scars. Besides, if I had to explain all about Dagoth Ur and the Nerevarine prophecies now, we’d be here for the next month.

Swimming across that underground lake, carrying our armour and weapons across piece by piece, was a long and tedious process. If either of us found it sexy to start with, we definitely didn’t by the end. It was a major relief when we could finally get out of the water, dry ourselves off and put our gear back on.

A little way down the next sewer ‘street’, Calvus suddenly caught at my arm. “Hold on. I thought I heard something.”

I strained my ears to hear. Yes, that definitely sounded like footsteps somewhere beyond the next corner. I motioned to Calvus to take point, and he carefully peeked round the corner, hiding behind a large rock which had crushed half the passage.

A few moments later he drew his head back. “Dark Elf woman,” he whispered. “Looking the other way, so she’s probably not a lookout. Doesn’t look armed, but she might be a mage or have a dagger or something.”

I thought for a moment, then scrabbled around in my pouch for the Chameleon ring which Larrius Varro had given me as a ‘present’. I handed it to Calvus, who nodded and slipped it onto his finger. The enchantment wasn’t powerful enough to keep the woman from seeing him, but it would allow him to sneak up on her without being heard.

Calvus hurried forward, whilst I crept along several paces behind him. As soon as he reached the woman he grabbed her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth and pressing his blade against her throat. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

I hurried up to join them as he loosened his grip on her mouth. “Okay, girl, you got any weapons? If so, you’d better tell me about them right now.”

The woman shook her head, obviously too terrified to speak. She was middle-aged, rather haggard-looking, and wore nothing apart from a dirty green robe – not even shoes. I got the feeling our ‘prisoner’ was just some poor beggar who’d made her home down in the sewers.

“Wh- who are you?” she finally managed to stammer.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said sharply. “Who are you, and what are you doing down here?”

“N- Narisa Adus.” She was quivering like a pile of jelly. “You frightened me! I thought you were members of the Black Dart Gang!”

I frowned. “The Black Dart Gang?”

“I think I’ve heard of them.” Calvus relaxed his grip on Narisa, but kept his sword near to her throat. “They look like harmless beggars, and they hang out in the sewers, waiting to ambush adventurers who come out of the ruins loaded with loot. They use darts – deadly poisons, enchantments, that sort of thing. Never heard of anything so evil.”

Narisa nodded. “They ambushed my lover and me in the Temple Sewers. Variner held them off while I ran, and when I turned to look back, he was down.” Her voice shook. “Now Variner’s ghost comes to me at night, begging me to come to him, to rescue him. He says he has a message for me... but I can’t go down there. They’d kill me for sure.”

I exchanged glances with Calvus. “Is that why you’re down here?”

“Yes.” Tears were running down her cheeks. “I’ve been here for days. If only I could see Variner’s ghost, and speak with him... but I’m not even sure exactly where he is. I – I don’t suppose…?”

Oh bloody hell, no. I was not going to get sidetracked with another bunch of random favours for total strangers. Besides, I wasn’t even sure if her story was true – though if the smell of her was anything to go by, it might well be.

“If I happen to run across your lover’s ghost,” I said at last, “I’ll definitely try to get his message. But I’m not making any promises. Let her go, Calvus.” He lowered his sword cautiously. “No sudden movements, OK? And don’t even think about trying anything funny while our backs are turned.”

She shook her head, then pointed towards the large gate just in front of us. “If you’re going down there, be careful. I think the Dark Brotherhood live in these caves. They never come this way, but I’ve sometimes heard them talking behind the door.”

So we’d found what we were looking for. That was something, at least.

Inside the gate, some steps led down into another passageway carved out of natural rock. Calvus and I hadn’t gone far before we heard more footsteps and voices in the distance. Using Larrius’ ring for concealment, Calvus went ahead to scout out the terrain, and was back within about half a minute. “Two guards, looking right this way.”

“Okay, let me deal with this.” I cast the Amulet of Shadows – hoping this would be the last time I’d need to use it – and slipped round the corner, running silently up to the two Brotherhood guards. Like the two who’d been sent to kill me, they wore black leather armour which completely covered their heads and bodies – and that gave me an idea.

I slipped around the back of the first assassin, who was standing slightly behind the other, and used the good old Star of the West power to silently knock him out. The other one didn’t even notice. Then I snatched up the biggest, heaviest-looking rock I could find, crept up behind the second assassin and hit him with every ounce of strength I could muster. Not even the leather helmet was enough to protect him from the force of the blow.

I pulled off the unconscious guards’ helmets and bashed their heads in a few more times – nasty, but I couldn’t risk them waking up again – then hurried back to Calvus. “OK, I’ve knocked them both out, so we can take their uniforms. I had to use my Star of the West, though – so don’t waste yours unless you absolutely need it.”

Calvus raised an eyebrow. “Resourceful. Shall we dump our own gear somewhere outside, then?”

“Good idea. We don’t want the Brotherhood to find it.”

We went back into the sewers and hastily pulled off our armour in front of an astonished-looking Narisa, then hurried back to the guards and stripped them of their armour. Luckily the uniforms fitted us both reasonably well – well enough for us to pass as Brotherhood members, anyway. “Here,” I said to Calvus, handing him my Divine Intervention amulet. “Use this if we need to get out in a hurry.”

“What if someone tries to talk to us?”

“Mmm… good point.” I mulled it over for a while, until a thought suddenly occurred to me. “Never mind, I’ll handle it. Just let me do the talking.”

Calvus looked skeptical, but didn’t object. We walked on, picking our way over fallen columns and stonework that littered the rocky ground – relics of Old Mournhold, I guess – until the passage ended abruptly at the entrance to a vast cavern.

Calvus and I found ourselves staring down into what looked like an ancient courtyard, half-buried in rock. The few remaining buildings were mostly in ruins, but a few were still standing – they had a strange, twisty conical shape, like swirls of ice-cream. Black-clad Dark Brotherhood members stood, walked and talked amongst the ruins. It looked almost like a normal city street scene, except that the ‘street’ was underground and the ‘citizens’ were all assassins.

“Gods,” Calvus breathed. “There must be dozens of them.”

I nodded grimly. There was no way we could possibly fight them all at once. “What now?” he whispered.

“Not sure.” I paused. “We look for whoever’s in charge, I guess.”

“Where shall we start?”

On a ledge just below us, at the bottom of a rickety wooden ladder, was one of those strange swirly buildings. “Let’s try there,” I murmured. “Try to act natural, but be prepared to fight.”

We made our way down the ladder and through the heavy, circular stone door that led into the building. The two Brotherhood assassins standing nearby didn’t seem to notice anything, which was a good sign. As soon as we entered the building, I cast the enchantment from the amulet Meryn Othralas had given me – the one that was supposed to improve my acting skills.

The building, which seemed to be the remains of some old manor house, was littered with rocks and debris. The Brotherhood had hung glowing red lights around the place, giving it that extra touch of cliché – gods, what a bunch of posers they were. Clearly the stories I’d read about them hadn’t been exaggerated.

Most of the Brothers in the house just nodded to us or ignored us as we passed, but as we approached another of those round stone doors, two guards blocked our way. “What do you want with Vules, brothers?” one of them said in Dunmeris.

I crossed my fingers, praying this would work. Thank Akatosh I’d taken all those extra language lessons with Varvur. “Urgent message for him,” I replied, hoping I was right to assume that ‘Vules’ was a man.

It worked! My voice actually sounded like a male Dunmer’s throaty growl. The guard hesitated for a moment. “What’s the message?”

“I can’t tell you, brother. It’s for his ears only.” I was using as few words as possible, trying not to make any grammatical errors.

The guard sighed. “All right. Be quick. You know he doesn’t like to be...” I didn’t recognise the next word, but I assumed it was ‘disturbed’.

The moment we were inside the room, I quickly recast the enchantment. “How did you do that?” Calvus whispered.

“Shh. I’ll tell you later.”

We rounded a corner and found ourselves in a makeshift bedroom, with a fire in one corner and several bedrolls spread over the floor. The man called ‘Vules’ was sitting on a bench, reading a book. He wore full Dark Brotherhood armour, but without a helmet.

I cleared my throat, and Vules looked up. “Yes?” he said sharply. “What do you want?”

“A message for you, brother.” I thought quickly. “It’s… about the Ventura contract.”

Vules tensed up immediately; it was obvious that he recognised the name. “What about it?”

“The last two attempts failed. The ‘client’ isn’t happy about it.”

He ground his teeth. “His Majesty is well aware that this is… a difficult assignment. There is no need for him to be concerned. If he needs reassurance, I will – ”

I wasn’t listening. His first two words had driven everything else out of my head. “His Majesty?” I blurted out, realising too late that I had spoken in Tamrielic – and with my own voice.

Vules’ eyes bulged out. In the half-second it took him to realise what was going on, Calvus had stepped forward and cast his own ‘Star of the West’ spell. The assassin staggered backwards, grasping weakly at his sword, but didn’t collapse altogether.

I couldn’t risk him shouting for help, and there wasn’t time to think of another plan. As he began to draw his sword, I seized my own blade and thrust it into his chest, aiming for the heart. The sword slipped from his fingers and he clutched at his chest, opening and closing his mouth in a desperate attempt to speak.

“No...” he gasped. “Tell my liege... I have... failed h...”

His eyes went blank all of a sudden, and he slumped to the ground. My liege?

“Damn.” I spun round to face Calvus. “Quick. Search this place for books, documents, anything like that. We need to get out of here fast.”

He nodded and began to look around by the bedrolls, while I quickly searched Vules’ pockets. Buried deep in one of his pockets was a folded piece of paper. I quickly opened it out and read the contents, which were in Tamrielic and signed with an official-looking seal:

The Bearer of this document, under special dispensation of the Night Mother, who has entered in a contract in perpetuity with H, is given special dispensation to execute Ada Ventura, an Imperial recently residing on the island of Vvardenfell. In accordance with all laws and traditions, the afore-mentioned personage will be executed in the name of H in the most expedient manner possible. All services of the Dark Brotherhood are at the disposal of the Bearer of this binding and non-disputable document.

I stared blankly at the page in my hand, my mind a whirl. ‘H’? “His Majesty… tell my liege I have failed him…” What was the new king’s name again? Helseth…

I swallowed hard. Calvus’ hand grasped my shoulder. “Ada? Have you found what you need? We should leave before they get suspicious.”

“Yes. I’ve found it.” I folded the paper and slipped it into my pouch, then quickly wiped off my sword. “Okay, let’s go.”

We headed back out through the door, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. I wondered how long it would take the Brotherhood to find out what had happened. Hopefully not until we were well out of this place.

As soon as we got back to the passage where we’d left the guards’ bodies, we stripped off the Brotherhood armour. Then we hurried back into the sewers, where we put our own armour back on as quickly as possible. Narisa Adus watched us, quaking.

“Just a hint,” I said to her, as we were about to leave. “I think some of the Dark Brothers may be coming this way soon. You might want to hide yourself.” She hurried off with a faint squeak.

Calvus and I cast our Divine Intervention spells, and found ourselves inside an Imperial shrine. From the look of the place it was part of the Royal Palace. Before I could do more than glance around, Calvus pulled me out through a nearby door into the courtyard where I’d first met him. I’d lost track of time down in the sewers, but it seemed to be mid-afternoon.

“Sweet Mara.” He leaned back against the wall, mopping his brow. “I can’t believe we got out of that place alive. So what did the letter say?”

“We can’t discuss it here,” I said shortly. “Come with me.” I dragged him through the gate into the Plaza Brindisi Dorom, and we walked to a secluded spot well away from any of the guards. Then, without another word, I handed him the contract.

His face turned pale. “Holy…! Ada, do you realise whose seal this is?”

“I don’t, but I can probably guess,” I said. “The Royal Family of Mournhold, right?”

He nodded rather grimly. “My liege… Good gods. I don’t know how you’ve managed to piss off the King, but you seem to have done it pretty thoroughly.” He paused for a moment. “You know that people say he – ”

“ – poisoned loads of people, yes.”

“And murdered the old King. And the old King’s heir.”

“What?”

“Talen Vandas, Llethan’s nephew. He was very popular with the people, and they say Llethan was grooming him for the throne. Then he was killed in a hunting ‘accident’, not long after Helseth arrived in Mournhold.” Calvus shook his head. “I wish I’d known about this before we settled our fee. I’d have charged you double.”

I said nothing. A cold, sick feeling was spreading over my entire body, but it wasn’t fear. It was anger.

“Well, what do we do now?” Calvus said eventually. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. And hungry. And I wouldn’t mind a bath either.”

I wondered briefly why I didn’t feel tired, and then realised that it was the ring Azura had given me. It had an enchantment which kept my stamina levels high. I didn’t wear it much except on missions; otherwise I’d forget to sleep.

“Okay,” I said at last. “Let’s have some dinner, and a bath. Then I need to write a letter to someone.”

“And what then?”

“Then…” I smiled grimly. “We pay His Majesty the King a little visit.”

Calvus’ face was an absolute picture. “Lead on, my lady,” he said hoarsely.

This post has been edited by Helena: Nov 9 2010, 12:45 PM