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Chapter Text

The rain fell softly on the hooded figure as he rode steadily on the horse down the cobbled path, his eyes never straying from the stones in front of him. Though it wasn't raining hard and there was no wind, the rain still steep into the heavy cloak and clothing he was wearing, chilling him and his horse almost to the bone.

The man grunted as he pulled on the reins and the horse stopped as he took a look around. The rain was a true nuisance; the steady rain over the past few days he had been travelling along this divine forsaken path had made everything wet and slippery, and the gathering mist was not helping either.

The horse beneath shuddered as it let out a cough-like sound, and was rewarded by his rider with a swift blow to its neck. It let out a small cry in pain as it set off again and his rider grumbled. Stupid animal, it wasn't worth the small fortune he invested in it back at the stables. The sooner it died, the sooner he would have a decent meal out of it. And using some pieces as bait to draw some the carnivores that prowled the land for their pelts would be a nice bonus as well.

As they continued to trudge along the slick cobbled path, the rider's thoughts turned back to the letters that he had received over the course of the few months since the Dragonborn had disappeared. Dragonborn, Dovahkiin, the word caused hate to burn inside him like a nasty poison. That hero had caused him great misfortunate and great losses but hopefully that would change when he was to meet his new partner.

The letters….they had just appeared one day on his doorstep after word had gotten out that the Dragonborn was nowhere to be found, not in any inn or any of the properties that she had owned throughout the holds. The letters had been simple in the beginning; a simple 'hello' and asking him how was business was since the Dragonborn had gotten involved in everything that he hold dear to his coin purse. He had simply burned them but they continued to arrive until he finally replied in a drunken rage and his reply back wasn't anything he had expected.

The letters after that talked about how there were others like him, men and woman who truly saw what the Dovahkiin was; a past-due hero that was too much involved in politics and the health of the holds. How people were pushed to the side in favour of the Dragonborn's thoughts and words of wisdom. What did someone who fought for a living know about what was right for the citizens of Skyrim?

Interested, he replied saying how the Dragonborn had disturbed many of his….'underhanded' deals that had helped his good home and how he was cast as the villain while that stupid woman was revered as a hero of the people. His mysterious sender's reply was how he could make a great fortune if he was joined forces with him and his 'organization', and not only that, but his reputation would be repaired and he would be idolized even greater than the Dragonborn.

This interested him greatly but he could smell a bad deal a mile away and demanded that before he made any decisions, they were to meet face to face and he was to know what the plan was that would make him as great and powerful as his mysterious sender said he would.

No word came after that for a few weeks and he thought that whoever had sent him the letters had realized he was caught and had decided to try and fool someone else. What he didn't expected was to have a large crate, filled with supplies that one would use on long journeys to appear on his doorstep with a simple letter that said to meet him in some distance tomb , far from any town in the farthest corner of Skyrim.

And yet, here he was: on a horse that was better much half dead to him on a path that could take him and his beast into the swelling river on his right, in the middle of nowhere with only the thoughts of heavy coin purses and being idolized like one of the great Nine Divines to keep him warm.

The cobbled path suddenly forked, one going straight and one disappearing into the thickening forest to his left. Remembering the map that was at the inn where he had last stopped, he took the left path and was rewarded with some relief as the trees shielded him from the rain. Continuing down the path, he came to a large tomb, old and falling apart but the place where everything would either be worth it or a total waste of time.

The steps leading into the tomb were cracked and crumbling. The trees that were growing around the tomb plus all the weeds and vines that were crowded the entrance made it look like the gaping mouth and stringy hair of a hagraven.

Getting off his horse, he tied it to a tree that was nearby the entrance and carefully walked up the stairs, anticipation and some fear gnawing at his stomach like skeevers on old bones. Pushing on the doors that creaked and groaned loudly their protest as he entered the tomb, the stale and musty air of death and dust greeted him and nothing else.

"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing in the unnatural silence of the tomb, "I received your letter, and I am here. I am alone and I made sure I wasn't followed, just like you specified. Where are you and your so called 'organization'?"

There was no replied and he could feel his patience run out, he had been had after all. This was some stunt at his expense of being a 'victim' in the Dragonborn's crusade for justice and equality.

"You useless son of a diseased maiden from Riften!" he yelled. He knew that his insult was childish but it was the best he could think of with the cold and exhaustion beginning to take its effect on him. "If I ever find you, I'll turn you in meat pudding and feed you to skeevers while you're still somehow alive!"

He turned around fuming with rage and, almost literally, jumped out of his cloak. There standing right behind him was a hooded figure, dressed in all black with some kind of mask over part of the face that he could see that wasn't covered by the hood.

"A-are you the one who sent me the letters?" he stammered, his teeth beginning to chatter. Whether it was from the cold or fear, he didn't know. The figure didn't reply but only pointed to the amulet that hung around his neck.

"I-I can't see it, it's too dark," he said and just as the words were out of his mouth, a flame flared up on his right and he couldn't help but cower, thinking that he had somehow angered his host and that he was to be burnt to death. When he didn't feel any pain, he uncovered his eyes and saw that the cloaked and robed figure had just lit a torch, how he did it so suddenly and silently he didn't know.

Keeping a warring eye on him…or her or whoever was holding the torch, he took a glance at the amulet. The symbols on the amulet where exactly the same as the symbol that had been on the letters and the wax seal. So this was the same person who had sent him the letters….or someone who was part of his organization.

"I see, so you are the one who sent me the letter, or part of his little 'organization'. What is with all the cloak and dagger? Who are you scared of that you do all of this?' he asked, his fear going away as his rude arrogance took his place. The figure said nothing, only closing the tomb door and stepping around him and making his way towards the doorway that lead deeper into the tomb.

"Hey! I am talking to you!" he called after the retreating figure but when he or she didn't reply or even turn around, he let out a hiss in anger but decided that he would follow. Taking up a slight jog until he caught up with the figure, he looked around the tomb as they made their way deeper and deeper in. The wall had carvings of what looked like old Nord battles against creatures such as trolls and huge sabre cats. But the further they went in, the stranger the walls seem to become.

The color of the walls changed from gray and smooth with carvings to brown and rugged, as if the old Nords who made the tomb got lazy and decided that it was too much work to continue making the tomb a shrine to their fallen comrades. His companion in front of him suddenly stopped and he couldn't help but run into him/her. Peering past the stranger, he saw that they had come to a door. The figure raised his hand, and he saw that it was also covered in fabric, meaning he was wearing gloves. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, they were going all out on the cloak and dagger weren't they?

The figure knocked on the door three times, the sound echoing in the tomb. There seemed to be some kind of shuffling behind the door as it opened, leading into an inky blackness. The figure didn't hesitate to put out the torch and step into the room and he bumbling followed, as he had no idea what was ahead.

Suddenly, it seemed that light exploded around him, causing him to shield his eyes and stumble as he fell to the ground. Quickly blinking his eyes, he stood up and looked around him. There were more figures wearing robes and cloaks, all of them wearing masks and amulets with the same markings on them.

"Welcome friend" said a voice that seemed to boom throughout the room and he turned and saw a man sitting poised in an almost regal manner upon a large, throne-like stone seat. "I am glad you have made your way here. I hope your journey hasn't exhausted you?"

"You think? You think?! I have ridden in rain that has made the paths mud and made the river swell like it was drunk! I am tired and hungry and I have wasted a small fortune on a useless beast to travel here to meet some crack pot and his little 'organization' that is scared of some stupid guards from a disease ridden hold that will only place a fine on them! And you have the balls to say that you 'are glad' and 'hope that my journey hasn't exhausted' me!?" he roared, his lack of sleep and answers plus the cold that was now seeping into his bones was finally making him lose control.

The figures around the room shuffled and hissed at him and but he ignored them; glaring at their leader with all the hate he could muster. The man laughed and jumped off his chair and strolled up to him like he was an old friend and clapped his hands on his shoulders in a joyful manner. The man, he could see now, was actually a Nord of a decent age, around his 40s or a bit younger, with thick brown curly hair and beard. His black eyes seem to dance and his white teeth against his sun kissed skin made for an odd comparison as he laugh in a way that seemed to rattle his wearing bones and said, "I am glad to hear that. It means that I wasn't wrong about you. I can see that we will have a good partnership together"

"I…what?" The Nord's words were lost on him as he let himself be turned and started to walk with the strange Nord towards a door. The Nord (who he decided to call "Alftand") just continued to smile and pushed open the door and all but practically pushed him in and closed the door with great force, causing it to rattle in its frame.

"I don't understand what…" he started but all words were lost on him when he saw what was in the middle of this new room. His jaw went slack at the sight before him. Never, in all of his years, had he ever seen such a sight. It was both so grotesque that he almost lost his meagre meal that he had had hours before but it was also so beautiful and breath taking that he felt like weeping and dancing for joy.

"This! This is what my organization has been trying to accomplish since the Dragonborn has disappeared" Alftand hissed, the strange and happy man was gone, all what was left was this dangerously venomous and possibly insane one. "This is what my life has been about. But I cannot do it alone; I need funding, I need connections, I need cover-ups to insure that no one knows what I have planned for all of Skyrim, and then all of Tamriel. This is why I have been scouting out possible partners, I need my partners help for my part but I know that when is said and done, I will need my partners by my side when the great battle arises. So tell me, are you in…or out?"

He swallowed and swallowed again. He could feel Alftand's eyes burning into him like a branding mark and he finally choked out, "I am with you. Where do I sign?"

The Nord smiled as he clapped his hands on the shoulders of the still extremely shocked man and turned to look at the scene in the center of the room and said in a low and dark voice, "No need for contracts my dear partner, all will be given their rightful reward when the time comes."

Chapter Text

Twenty years have passed and no word has surfaced on the location of the hero of Skyrim, Dragonborn, and now all assume she has perished in some long forgotten ruin in search of treasure and adventure. But the truth of her disappearance and the tale that accompanies it is more than anyone could ever expect. Pull up a seat and grab a bottle of Nord mead, for the tale starts now….

The first thing she noticed when she slowly came to was that her head was killing her; it felt like there was an Orc pounding away on it with a warhammer without a care in the world. The second thing she noticed that it was dark, the only light seeming to come from somewhere ahead of her, far to her right. Getting on her hands and knees, she slowly crawled her way towards the light but was stopped when her head hit something made out of metal.

Hissing some old swears she had picked up from listening to drunkards in seedy taverns; she placed a hand on the metal in front and felt it. They felt like bars but there were hinges on one side, she had just run into a door.

"You're up," said a male voice suddenly as light exploded in front of her, making her cry out in pain as she covered her eyes and dropped to the floor.

"Yes I'm up. What is it to you?" she snapped, sarcasm in her voice as she slowly blinked her eyes in an attempt to get use to the light so that she could see who was speaking.

"All that attitude and witty comebacks won't help you here archer," he said, and she could have sworn she heard the sneer in his voice, "In here, all you will have is time and those rags you are wearing."

Her eyes went wide as she checked, not wanting that to be true. She quickly scanned her cell and patted herself, looking for her pockets and coin purse. But it was, her wonderful leather light armour that she had just purchased days before: gone. Her bow and arrows: nowhere to be seen.

"What did you do to all of my things?" she asked, her voice and panic rising, "Where are they? Give them back! Let me go!"

"'I'm not going to do any such thing," he said. The glee in his voice made her sick, "In fact, I'm going to enjoy it…"

She glared at him and asked slowly, shaking with anger. "Then what is planned for me?"

As the Nord , who she saw now as a young man around the age of twenty summers with brown hair, a thick beard, tanned skin while wearing typical bandit clothing, continued to look down on her, she tried to stop shaking, in case he thought it was from fear, and he only grinned and replied in a sly voice, "Wouldn't you like to know? It's a surprise."

And with that, he walked away taking the torch with him. She clenched her fists before slamming them on the door in front of her. No matter what it took, she would get out and she would wipe that smug look off from his ugly face if it was the last thing she would do.

"If you keep making that much noise, you'll get us in trouble" said a voice to her left, making her jump. She didn't know there was someone else in here.

"Who are you? Friend or foe?" she asked.

"I am no foe as they wouldn't accept someone like me into their group, but I am not friend since I have never met you before. So I guess you can say is that I am someone who is stuck in the same boat as you." was her reply and she couldn't help but scoff at it.

"They got a scholar in here? Just great, I can hear you contemplating the universe as I die" she snorted as she slowly crawled back towards the straw bedding that was in her cell.

"Not quite. Yes, I have read many books and I have meet scholars that have stayed sometimes at the College but I am no scholar. I am a true Mage, born and raised around magic in the College of Winterhold."

She snorted again and went to lie down, her headache still pounding but the mage continued to talk, "My name is Aziari. What about you, what's your name archer?"

She was quiet as she thought about it. No one had asked her name since she had gotten into Skyrim over a year ago but the looks she got from people were enough to tell her that she wasn't welcomed. So, if she was to die, why not tell someone her name?

"My name is Inielonwe. As you have heard from the bastard earlier, I am an archer. I learned about bows and arrows when I was younger and practiced until I could confidently say that I could survive off my skill."

"So we are alike, we both have known our skills since we were young and have grown up around it. But I have to say this, you are not from around here, are you Inielonwe? You don't talk like anyone from Skyrim. Even some of the Altmer or Orsimer talk a certain way if they have been in Skyrim long enough."

Inielonwe eyes went wide, this was no ordinary mage; she was a hell of a lot smarter than ones she had meet, prancing around casting fireballs spells for the amusement of politicians.

"Yes, that's true" she said slowly, unease beginning to grow inside her. How much could she trust this other prisoner on the other side of this wall? "I come from a land far from Skyrim"

"I can tell that you don't like me," was the blunt reply. "I have a habit of doing that, seeming to be wiser than my actual age. I scared some of the older mages back when I was still at the College"

Inielonwe was about to ask a question when there was some loud banging, followed by someone yelling, "Alright, its dusk, all of you prisoners, shut up or you'll have to spend the night with some of us lads and let me tell you, its been while since we had a lady friend"

Laughter followed and Inielonwe gritted her teeth as the light disappeared, plunging everything into darkness.

"We will talk more in the morning" whispered Aziari, "Trust me when I say, you don't want to know what they can do to some of the woman who push their luck"

The fear and anger in her voice was enough to convince Inielonwe to keep her mouth shut as she quietly moved around on the straw bedding, trying to find a nice spot to lie on. Finally settling on lying down on her back, she stared at the ceiling as her eyes slowly got used to the darkness. She could hear Aziari's quiet breathing and assumed she had somehow managed to fall asleep. Letting out a sigh, she continued to stare at the ceiling with her hands behind her head till she felt her eyelids grow heavy.

As she felt sleep take her, she only hoped that when morning came, she would have an idea on how to get out of here.

Inielonwe couldn't believe her luck. Not only had she just sold some weapons she had found for a decent enough price but had also found a new bow and managed to convince the shopkeeper to lower the price by about 10 Septims. She patted her coin purse and felt proud of herself .A coin purse that was heavy was a good coin purse to her; whether it belong to her some of the coin was always up for debate.

Sitting down on a bench that was outside of an inn, she looked around. The town she was in was small; the only buildings that stood out were the lumber mill that started the town. the inn and the general goods store. It had taken her some time, but she finally had the equipment she needed to get started on her new life. Good-bye Summerset Isles, hello Skyrim.

Standing up, she made her way down the inn steps and onto the cobbled path that would lead her out of town and towards Falkreath.

"Hey High Elf, be careful when you go down that road, there have been many attacks by bandits," called the blacksmith as Inielonwe past him and his shop. Waving a dismissing hand at him, she continued down the road, pasting the gate and the guards. Waking down the road, she took in some of the sights. Large pine trees growing on slated rock and soil were to her left as a softly bubbling river was to her right.

The scenery in Skyrim was beautiful if not rugged and dangerous but she didn't mind, it was a very nice change to the clean cut gardens and constant clear pastures she had grown up seeing all of her life. Like how mountain flowers or snowberries grew in the hard rocky soil was proof that anyone who lived in this province had to be hardy and hard-working.

"Help me! Someone help me!" cried as a Nord came running up the path and towards Inielowne. He was flailing his arms and had a thin layer of sweat covering his red face. His clothes were crinkled, there were moons under his armpits and there was dirt and grass all over his leggings.

'Crap' she thought as the man came right up to her, she knew where this was going to go.

"Please, you must help me. A group of bandits attacked me as I was making a deliver. Oh, you must help me" he cried, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

She looked at the man before stepping around him and continued walking. The man seemed to be stunned before turning around and called angrily at her, "Didn't you hear me, I said that I was-"

"Attacked by bandits and that you need help. Yes I heard you but I can't help you. I'm in a hurry, I have to get to Falkreath in a few days and then make my way to Riften. So, if you really need help, continue on the path and you will come to a town called Riverwood, they have guards and thugs-for-hire, they can help you there." Inielonwe said as she continued to walk away. Really, it was like every sucker was getting robbed these days and they were asking even bigger suckers to help them. Well, not today, there was no gain for her if she had to risk her life for some poor farmer unless there was-

"I have gold, I will pay you if you can at least help me distract the bandits long enough to see if I can grab the more important items that I need to deliver to Solitude," he cried. That made her stop.

Getting shot at by arrows from several bandits and having more charge at you with heavy two-handed weapons was not fun but if there was gold in it; it might be worth it to at least help the loser grab some things and have extra gold in her pocket, especially if she was going to Riften. If the rumours about that city and its notorious "Thieves Guild" were half true at least, extra gold would always be needed.

"Alright," she said as she turned around and walked back to the somewhat relieved man, "If you make good on your part on having gold for me, I'll help you out. But remember, I am, in no way, responsible for your health. If you get killed or injured and we are about to be overrun by bandits, I am leaving you there. Understood?"

The man nodded and pointed down the road. "I was on a path that passed by an old town that was destroyed twenty years ago by a dragon. They came out of the bush and surrounded me before I ran a chance, they were all armed to the teeth, and I barely managed to escape with my life."

She nodded and followed the man; she had heard this story from several others before. They were always attacked by a decent number of bandits but they always seemed more interested in the items and produce they were carrying, rather than the gold they had in the pockets, which was extremely odd bandit behaviour.

"There, it was there" he said, as he pointed up the road, "I was attacked and they took everything. My entire livelihood was in that deliver, if I lose all of that cargo, I will be broke and forced to live like a skeever."

"Yes yes, just make sure you make due on your part. I need that gold" said Inielowne and the man gave her a sour and dark look but she ignored it. She was use to those looks by now, if it wasn't the fact that she was an Altmer, a High Elf, then it was because how she only seemed to care about the gold. Which wasn't true, she cared greatly for having gold in her purse but there was more to her, but would they care? Did they bother to understand?

"So, it was here? Where's your cart, where's your horse? Usually bandits destroy the cart and kill the horse or horses for meat and leather." She said as she looked around where this 'attack' happen. There was no sign of any struggle, or of any attack. The branches on the bush surrounding the area weren't broken, meaning that no one seemed to jump out which would mean that this was-

"A trap" she said, as she quickly grabbed her bow and strung it with an iron arrow as she pointed it to the man, who was now smiling quite coldly.

"Too late" said a voice behind her but before she could turn around, stars and moonbeams exploded in her view and she fell to the ground in a heap, her vision swimming.

"Well done," said the voice as more footsteps came from behind her, "You did as you said you would and you have my thanks"

"Yes yes, that is all good. But about my cargo? You said that you would give me back my cargo if I bought you someone to take my place in your dungeon." Asked the man as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yes, I shall give you your cargo, but first: did you pray to the Divines?" asked the voice, as Inielonwe heard several bows be loaded with arrows. The man stopped grinning and paled as he saw that he had been had.

"I shall give you twenty seconds, if you're out of range by then. We won't fire. That time starts now." and Inielonwe saw the man took off like rabbit but felt cold when she heard a voice call quietly, "Fire."

He let out a desperate scream when the arrows pierced him and fell to the ground. Several bandits ran after the man and raised their weapons to finish him. She closed her eyes as she heard their swords pierce his flesh and the man cried out in agony before all was silent.

"Twenty seconds, two seconds, looks like I'm bad at counting everything except gold coins and sultry maidens. Come on; let's get this one with the others in the dungeon. It's almost time for the auction." He said, and that was all she could remember before everything went black.

"Inielonwe? Inielonwe?! Wake up!" hissed a voice as she opened her eyes groggily. Oh yeah, that was how she got into this mess, some stupid idiot made a deal with the bandit that was in charge for his cargo and he paid for it with his life.

"Are you up yet?" Aziari asked, as she got herself into a sitting position.

"Yeah, I'm up. When do we get something to eat? I could really use horker meat, grilled leeks, and oven baked bread with really sweet mead," said Inielonwe as she rubbed her eyes. Her headache was pretty much gone but her stomach was growling like a wolf.

"I don't know if you're joking or actually being serious. But if you look around your cell, there should be a wooden plate with some cheese and beard with a cup of water. But make sure you don't eat it all at once, that has to last you the whole day," said Aziari. Shuffling could be heard coming from her cell.

"You must be joking," was Inielonwe's reply as her eyes fell upon her meagre meal. The cheese was turning blue, the bread looked stale and she didn't trust the look of that cup holding her only drinking water.

"Nope. And you might as well get used to it until-"began Aziari

"The auction. I know, I heard the bandits talking about it when I was captured." Finished Inielonwe as she stood up and stumbled towards the door where her meal was waiting.

"…yes, and that terrifies me. There were many others in here before me, males and females of the same age as me or even younger. But now, they are gone. Sold off by the bandits who live in his camp, and we two are all that remain," said Aziari quietly as Inielonwe forced the food down her throat and felt like it weighed in her stomach like stones.

"Well?" asked Inielowne.

"Well what?" was Aziari's reply and Inielowne fought the urge to roll her eyes even though Aziari couldn't see her.

"Don't tell me that you plan on sitting here, waiting for the day when we get placed on a stage and have assholes decide our fates," snapped Inielowne, "I, for one, plan to escape, kill every single bandit I find in this damn pit of Oblivion and burn this place to the ground, with nothing but ashes to say that something once existed here."

Aziari was silent and Inielonwe couldn't help but growl under her breath. Here she was, ready to do whatever it took to get out of here, and the only other person that could help her was some weak-willed-

"I have noticed some things about the bandits that live here and have a vague plan. If you are in, we can try it and hope to the great Divines that it works"' was Aziara's response, but it was so quiet that Inielonwe had to push herself into the cell door to hear it.

"I'm in; there is no way that I am giving up without a fight. If I am to die, let me die fighting," said Inielowne strongly, her convictions clear in her voice.

"You are either brave, fearless or quite quite stupid. Let's see which one you are. Inielowne, I know that we have gone over this but you are an archer, correct?" asked Aziari quietly.

"Yes. Why?" she asked but she was hushed so severely by Aziara that she repeated herself in a lower voice.

"There are three types of bandits that walk the halls. One that uses heavy armour and two-handed weapons, one that uses light armour and one-handed weapons and shields or magic and ones that use light armour with bows, arrows and daggers. The ones with the big weapons you can hear walking down the hallways, the one with the swords are quieter but you can hear their swords and shields bang against the wall or each other. The ones that have bows are the quietest and the hardest to detect." She explained.

Inielowne could say that she was smarter than some people but this logic was completely lost on her. "OK? So?" she asked.

"So, the ones who patrol the hallways and make sure all is in order are the heavy weights, sentries are the sell swords and the ones who make sure the prisoners-that's us-are behaving and give them their meals are the archers. With me so far?" explained Aziari and Inielowne nodded. That did make sense but that didn't explain one thing.

"Aziari, you are a mage, you have spells that could probably take out half of the bandits that stalk the halls here like diseased ridden skeevers, why didn't you ever escape till now?" she asked.

There was silence before Aziari replied so quietly; she had to strain to hear her. "Because, I don't have it in me to kill. I have lived all of my life in peace and sincerity in the halls of the College. Never once did I have to use my spells against someone in combat and to be honest; I don't like the sight of blood."

Inielowne was floored; she had never expected that to be the answer to her question. So she did the only thing she could in this situation: she laughed.

"It's not funny! Try being me!" she heard Aziari growl, "Besides, I didn't know what to do. Never had I thought when I left the College about a few days ago that this would happen!"

"Shut up back there!" they heard a bandit yell, "If you think everything is so funny, wait till the day after tomorrow. You're going to meet a whole lot of fantastic people who are interested in your skins!"

That made Inielowne shut up right away as her eyes went huge. She was screwed; there was no way that they could make a plan right away to es-

"We'll escape tonight. I have a plan." said Aziari calmly, breaking Inielowne out of her despairing thoughts.

"How?" she asked.

"There is a guard, an archer, which was why I was doubling-checking about you being an archer yourself; he has a key to the cell doors and to the other doors. I have heard them jingle as he makes his way through here late at night. What we will do is I will trip him, and you will grab his keys, use them and we will get out of here." Aziari said as she outlined her plan.

"Not bad but your forgetting a few things. One: we will have to kill the guards, no way around that. Two: how do we get out of here? This place seems pretty big. Three: It`s black as night down here when its lights out." Inielowne stated, counting them off on her fingers.

"One: I know that. Two: I have a spell that could help. And three: I know, and again, I have a spell that could help. Any other questions?"

Inielowne was silent and Aziari said gently, "Very well, we escape tonight."

The hours passed by slowly till it was almost nightfall and Inielowne was twitchy from the energy and possibility of freedom. Aziari was right about the bandits. Muscle bound brutes walked down the halls, their weapons and armour clanging in the stone hallways, not even bothering to give a simple glance to either of them. There was a sentry posted at a corner before their cells a little distance off and the bandits would always talk and laugh about something crude before parting.

Finally when Inielowne thought she was about to lose it, the bandit made the same call about it being lights out and everything went black. Inielowne held her breathe as she crept quietly towards the cell door, she heard some shuffling from the cell next to her and knew that Aziari was doing the same thing.

The minutes seem to past by slowly like an lumbering horker and Inielowne felt her eyes grow heavy when she heard the quiet footsteps of someone walking down the hall. Getting into a crouching position, she felt the bars until she found gaps that would allow her hands and arms to pass through and waited.

The footsteps came closer and closer and Inielowne felt her body tense as she waited for Aziari to do her part. There was an undignified squawk as she heard the bandit trip and fall to the ground. Thrusting her arms through the cell door she grabbed onto the bandit and tried to find the keys. He thrashed and sworn. Fearing that his noise would call the others bandits to them, she wrapped her hands around some part of him and pulled him towards the cell door. Pulling him into a choke hold, she began to squeeze his throat.

The bandit wheezed and fought hard, determined not to die but Inielowne's desire to survive became her strength as she continued to squeeze, cutting off his air supply. The bandit's struggles became less and less until he gave a twitch and lied still. But Inielowne didn't let go, this was an old trick. Let the enemy think you are dead and then when they let you go, stand up and stab you in the back.

She squeezed even tighter and felt for a heartbeat, it was weak but still there. She held on for another minute until his heart stopped beating. He was dead.

Letting him go, she let him fall to his side before feeling for the keys. Inielowne smiled when she found a whole bunch in his pocket and carefully pulled them out. Standing up slowly, she felt around for the keyhole and began to insert the keys, one at a time, until she heard a wonderful click.

Opening the door slowly, she stepped over the dead bandit and made her way to Aziari's cell.

"Aziari. Stand back. I'm going to open your cell," she whispered and she heard Aziari get up and move to the back of the cell as she entered the key into the keyhole and opened the door.

"Get the bow and arrows from the bandit; you are going to need it." Aziari whispered, a tremble in her voice. Inielowne nodded and quietly made her way to the bandit. The sounds of the bandit's struggle for life must have shaken her pretty badly but there was no time to waste on thinking about their captures. They had to escape and make sure that no one else would be stuck in their positions again.

Grabbing the bow and arrows, she turned and asked, "Turn on a light; I wanna steal this guy's armour. No way am I going out in these rags."

There a shuffle and a light emerged out of nowhere, blinding Inielowne and making her almost fall to the ground. "Watch it!" she hissed, "You should have waited till I turned around."

There a quiet "sorry" and Inielowne turned back and got a good look at the bandit. It was a dark elf; his red hair seeming to burn under the magical light but his dark color skin seemed waxy and diseased while his glazed eyes seem to stare into empty space. Only staring at him for a few seconds, she quickly began to undress him, stripping him until he was only in his cloth underwear. Peeling off her disgusting smelling rags, she slipped on the light armour and grimaced. The fur armour was too tight in the chest but too loose everywhere else but it will have to do, at least until she found new armour anyways.

Standing straight and placing the arrows on her back while holding the bow in her right hand she turned around just as the ball of light went out.

"Let's go, its time" was what she simply said. She heard Aziari shuffle her feet and say, "Come on, if we go this way we should get lucky and not have to deal with too many bandits."

"Right, but first, let's deal with the cells. If someone sees them open and empty, we will have a problem."

"But-?" began Aziari, but Inielowne held up a hand as she said, "I have an idea."

Grabbing the dead bandit by his arms, she pulled him into her cell and quietly closed it. Picking her old rags off the floor, she threw them into Aziari's cell and closed it.

"That should confuse them for a few seconds and buy us some time when they do set the alarm," said Inielowne, "Let's go. You lead, I'll follow."

Making sure her steps were light, she followed Aziari who seemed to have no problem at all walking in this pitch black darkness. But soon Inielowne's eyes got use to the dark and she could finally see the outline of Aziari, who was walking a few steps ahead. They looked to be the same height, and female. But there was something odd about her. Her head looked… misshapen was the best word to describe it.

She came to a halt at a crossway with two wooden doors. Aziari lifted one hand and placed it on the door that was in front of her. She let it stay there for a few seconds before removing and opened the door on her left. Before Inielowne could say anything, Aziari beckoned her to follow.

She cautionily followed her and closed the door, not really understanding what was going on.

"There are some chests in here with items, look through them for better armour or bows. I'm going to look for some mage robes; the rags I am wearing aren't doing a thing for my tail." She said calmly as light once again flared from her hand, blinding Inielowne once again.

"Yeah sure, no problem" said Inielowne as she made her way to one of the chests. "Yeah, I know the feeling. While putting on this armour, it pinched my ears, elf ears are sensitive you know?"

Inielowne was about to open the chest when something came back to her: her tail?

Aziari was about to open a cupboard when something came back to her: Elf ears?

Both Inielowne and Aziari turned around and stared at each other, stunned by the turn of events. Aziari couldn't believe that the Altmer in front of her was an archer and Inielowne couldn't believe that the Khatjiit in front of her was a mage.

"Oh you must be joking" they both said.

Chapter Text

They stared at each other in silence, their mouths gaping open like slaughterfish getting ready for a feeding. Inielowne felt her grip on her bow loosen until it slipped through her fingers and clattered on the stone floor.

Aziari’s ears twitched as she took a step back, taking in the High Elf. Her light blonde hair was a little past her shoulders and probably soft to the touch like a blanket when it had been clean, but now it looked stringy and greasy from her imprisonment. Her sun-kissed skin - which looked darker than the typical color of any Altmer - was covered in dirt and several small bruises and cuts marred the skin. Her golden-yellow eyes stared back icily at Aziari, and the Khajiit suspected the bags under them made her look much older than she probably was. Her body was lean, scarred and muscular, meaning that Inielowne probably had been in a few scuffles with from either animals in the wilderness or rowdy drunks in mead halls.

Inielowne’s gaze flickered over Aziari. When she had first started taking to her mysterious neighbour, her being a Khatjiit was the last thing that she had been expecting. But as she took a closer look, she noticed that she didn’t look, or even sound like any Khajiit that she had ever met. Her fur was white with spots that were a combination of black and blue-grey, giving her the look of the fearsome snow sabre cats that prowled the icy landscape of Skyrim. But what she found most interesting - and somewhat entertaining - was the fact that the fur on the tips of her ears stood straight, making her ears look longer than they actually were.

If the situation hadn’t been so dire and her life hadn’t been at risk, she would have laughed, or least snorted at their comical appearance. Aziari’s ice blue eyes blinked uncertainly at her and Inielowne couldn’t blame her.

“Um…well, not what I was expecting. That’s for sure,” said Inielowne, scratching the back of head, the awkwardness of this whole situation finally getting to her.

Aziari nodded but Inielowne could tell that she wasn’t really paying attention; there was some kind of blank look in her eyes as she continued to start at Inielowne, as if she were some kind of Dwemer puzzle to solve. Her stare seem to become more intense as Aziari closed the gap between them until they were standing face to face.

Inielowne didn’t look away, not sure what was going on but not wanting to break the spell (a magic joke, she really needed to get some fresh air) that seemed to have come over Aziari.
“Your eyes are exactly the same as I have seen and what has been foretold,” Aziari muttered. Her eyes widened until they were like two pieces of glowing blue quartzes, glittering with excitement. Inielowne raised her eyebrows in confusion. Without warning, the ball of light blinked out, plunging the room into darkness once again.

Another Candlelight spell rose out of Aziari’s hand once again as she turned around quickly and made her way back to the cupboard and opened it, moving around the items inside as she looked for something to wear.

“Um…what were you talking about?” asked Inielowne as she watched Aziari close the cupboard and open the dresser that was next to it.

“Mages have connections - or can have connections to both the physical realm and the realm of the dead. This is because when we use magic, we become sensitive to the changes that can occur on Nirn and in Aetherius and this means that we can - or some of us can - have visions given to us by the Eight Divines or the Daedra.” Aziari stated, as she closed the drawer and opened the one beneath it.

“OK, I get that. But that doesn’t answer my question,” Inielowne said as she went back to the chest that she had been about to open before she discovered her next door neighbour was a living rug.

“I just said. I have been around magic since before I was kitted; both of my parents are mages that teach at the College so I am in tune with magic. I have been having dreams and visions since I learned my very first spell. Ah, the day I learned Flames…..there are still scorch marks on the walls,” Aziari said, a faraway look in her eyes as she paused in her search for magic robes.

Inielowne scrunched her eyebrows together and turned around to look at Aziari before replying, “I think you have had too much Skooma cat, why would a Divine or Daedra send anyone messages? This is the time of the adventure and gold, not dreams and fairy tales.”

Aziari’s fur bristled as she turned around and snarled at Inielowne, “I have never tasted a drop of Skooma or anything of the likes in my entire life! The last time someone brought Moon Sugar into the College my father summoned Storm Atronaches to turn him into smoldering ashes!”

Inielowne raised her hands in surrender, hoping that Aziari would take the hint and quiet down but Aziari tail was still flicking rapidly from side and side. She opened her mouth to continue her rant when footsteps could be heard approaching the door.

Both of them froze as they heard the footsteps stop next to the entrance. Voices murmured through the door as the handle began to twist. Quickly but quietly snatching her bow from the floor and placing an arrow lightly on the string, Inielowne watched the door with bated breath as it swung open.

A bandit appeared in the doorway, quickly stopping dead as he spotted them. He opened his mouth to yell out a warning - but he never got the chance. Drawing back her bowstring fully and then releasing it, Inielowne launched the arrow.

She couldn’t help but smirk when she saw it bury deep into his neck. The bandit let out a gurgling sound. Blood trickled from his wound and mouth. He took a stumbling step back. Notching another arrow, Inielowne let the shaft fly through his left eye into his skull. There was a guttering wheeze before the bandit crashed to the ground in a heap.

Inielowne walked over to the dead bandit and pulled him inside the room before closing the door as quickly and quietly as she could. She turned and saw that Aziari looked ill and her eyes were wide and filled with tears that threatened to be shed at any moment. Inielowne gazed at Aziari for a few seconds, then walked over and pulled her into a hug.

She felt Aziari stiffen but only for a second before she relaxed and begin to cry. Even though Inielowne could be a cold hearted witch sometimes, she wasn’t going to deny a bit of comfort to someone that looked like they could use it.

Inielowne hummed quietly as she patted Aziari’s back and felt her right shoulder become wet. The Khajiit must have been holding back ever since she had been captured and who knows how long she had been in that cell all alone before they had met.

“Aziari, I know that you’re upset but we have to get out of here. It’s only a matter of time before more bandits come,” Inielowne said softly, still patting her back, “We have to survive and warn the Jarl of the Hold. This is a country-wide problem.”

Inielowne felt Aziari nodded against her. She pulled back before placed a hand of her shoulder and giving it a squeeze, “If we encounter any more bandits, let me take the sin of killing them. You’re my back-up,” she said as she went back over to the chest, placed her bow beside it and pulled it open. The room fell into darkness and Inielowne paused, Aziari was in no shape to-

Her train of though was cut off when a ball of light illuminate the room and Inielowne glanced over to Aziari who was rubbing her eyes on the sleeves of her rags; Inielowne only looking for a few seconds, she turned back to the chest. Rummaging through it, Inielowne found many pieces of civilian clothing such as dresses, trousers, shirts and even a blacksmith’s apron or two. It looked like there had been people before her, but a lot more than they had originally thought. Closing it, she moved onto the next chest and couldn’t help but grin. It was stacked to the brim with pieces of light armour- and her old leather armour that the bandits had taken was among them.

Stripping the nasty fur armour off and hurling it into a corner, Inielowne slipped on her old armour and almost purred with pleasure. The armour hugged her body and, though it was soft, it was still tough enough to help block some damage from swinging idiots. She wrapped her arms around her and smiled. It felt good to have something of hers back.

She turned around and saw that Aziari was shifting though the dresser, but her movements were slow and sluggish and she looked like her heart wasn’t set out on finding mage robes. Going back to the chest, Inielowne looked through, pushing aside pieces of light armour until she came across a blue-gray robe that had dirt well-worn into while the collar and sleeves were brown and gray. Picking it up, she could feel the enchantment woven into the fabric shimmer and shift. She turned to look at Aziari.

“Aziari,” she called softly, but the Khajiit continued aimlessly shifting through the dresser. Inielowne called again, this time a bit louder. “Aziari!”

Aziari stopped and glanced over at her. Inielowne held up the robes for her to see.

Her eyes went wide as she rushed over. “My novice robes,” she said quietly, taking the robe and holding it close to her chest, “I had though the bandits had burned it or sold it for a few Septims. My mother made this robe from scratch and my adopted uncle enchanted it for me.”

“Looks like they take the armour and clothing from the prisoners and store it here to probably sell later to unsuspecting merchants. And then they’re sold to other buyers with a chance that it might get stolen all over again. An ingénues and cruel way to make a few Septims.” Inielowne ground her teeth. “Quick. Change so we can continue looking, there might be some other items in here that we could use,” Inielowne ordered, turning back to the chests to give Aziari some privacy.

She pulled out a hood that was both dark and light brown that had an enchantment and some light brown boots and threw them across to Aziari who let out a delighted purr being reunited with her mage outfit. Closing the chests, Inielowne looked around. Other than the two chests that she had search and the cupboard and dresser than Aziari had looked through, there was really nothing else in the room…well, except for the dead bandit.

She glanced over her shoulder at Aziari and saw her fully dressed in her mage attire. Aziari locked eyes with her, took in a deep breath and nodded. Inielowne grabbed her bow and placed a hand on Aziari’s shoulder as the light faded away once again. Inielowne crept to the door, opened it and stepped into the hallway. Light and voices were coming from somewhere ahead of them. She turned and looked to Aziari who closed the door and fell in behind Inielowne as they crouched and made their way forward.

Placing their feet down carefully so that they didn’t trip or trigger anything, they made their way down the hallway and stopped at the corner. The light and laughter from the bandits could be heard easily now. Gripping her bow until her knuckles went white, Inielowne reached for an arrow when a voice stopped her.

“What the boss say what we have to do after we sell off the last two wenches that we’ve got in the cells?” asked one voice. It was deep - Inielowne guessed it was an Orc.

A drunken snarl answered him. “He said that we’re ‘no longer needed’ and that it was ‘a pleasure to have worked with you barbarians’! Pah! It was thanks to us that he got all that gold to bribe those town guards and have all of those young men and woman for his damn Master! And this is how we repays us? By cutting us loose so we don’t open our fat mouths?”

There were murmurs and yells of agreement.

“What I don’t get is why so many young men and woman of all races were needed,” came an oily new voice. “They didn’t go into slavery and they weren’t sold to brothels. We kidnapped them, take their stuff and sell it, and when the representatives of the Master come, they treated it like an auction, each one trying to outbid the other. Doesn’t make sense to me, and if you ask me-“

“No one-ne ashk….asked you….Elfve!” sneered someone who sounded even more drunk than the others, but the oily voice continued.

“Something is up. I say that the Master is holding out on us and that’s why the boss is cutting us loose, since he has so many of us bandits in other Holds. The ones that he doesn’t need or want he’s having killed. That’s our future; he doesn’t want us to talk at all. I wonder why…” mused the ‘Elfve’ out loud, to the apparent outrage of his fellow drunken bandits.

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter; we have a fortress for our use since the renovations have been complete for the past five years. We have a labyrinth that stretches into the surrounding woods underneath the very feet of the patrols of the town guards that we have bribed to look the other way,” said a female voice, her accent making words with the word ‘W’ in it sound like a ‘V’. “Why should anything else matter?”

“Here here!” chorused several voices, and there was click of tankards being knocked together.

And the conversation turned to how they needed more mead and how many daggers they could hide in their boots.

Inielowne slowly pulled out an arrow and notched it in her bowstring before stepping around the corner. She felt Aziari stiffen and reach for her but Inielowne was already in full view of the bandits and was about to let one loose when one bandit let out a yell. Not wasting even a second, she let the arrow fly. The shaft pierced the bandit right in between his eyes, making him slump to the ground.

The bandits stumbled to their feet, fumbling for their weapons in their drunken haze. But one by one, they fell to the ground, transfixed by well-placed arrows. When the last one had fallen, Inielowne walked cautiously around the room, looking for any remaining bandits, then went back to Aziari to tell her the coast was clear.

Aziari’s eyes clouded with grief as she looked at the corpses before turning to Inielowne. “Is all of this death necessary?’ she asked softly, a tear tracing wet tracks through the fur on her face.

Inielowne nodded her solemnly. “Even though you have a kind heart, these bandits will not hesitate to kill you - and that’s if you’re lucky. Besides, you heard them talking - there are other bandits doing terrible things: kidnapping people and selling them off to some monster called the Master. They have to be stopped. We have to get to Riverwood and have a guard tell the Jarl of Whiterun since the guards here are being bribed.”

Aziari was quiet; she was going over what Inielowne had said in her mind, taking it apart. The Altmer was right, even if Aziari wouldn’t harm them, they would harm her; it was the reason she had ended up here in the first place. She had tried to help a man whose cart had been robbed and she had been betrayed. She sighed. Why couldn’t things in the world be simple?

She heard shuffling and was surprised to see Inielowne looking through the pockets of the dead bandits, pocketing the few Septims and small valuables.

“What are you doing?” Aziari asked, becoming uneasy at Inielowne’s simple disregard for the dead.

“Taking their gold, of course. They don’t need it anymore. When I get out of here, I’m going straight to Riverwood; rent the nicest room they have and binge on the best food and drinks that they have to offer. Wait here,” Inielowne said as she jogged out of the room and disappeared into the hallway they had come from.

A minute later she reappeared, scowling. “The bandit I killed back there had nothing on him, what a waste of time,” she growled as she went over to one of the doors and opened it. A rank smell of something rotting filled the air. Inielowne slammed it shut.

“Wrong door, care to try door number two?” Aziari asked with a hand over her nose, trying to lighten the mood.

Inielowne face looked like she had swallowed something bitter as she went to the other door and opened it; a dark silent hallway greeted her and Inielowne jerked her head to Aziari. Both fell into crouches and moved forward, pausing whenever there was any sound, even one as tiny as pebbles skipping across the floor when their feet knocked them.

They came across two more rooms but both were empty, no bandits or even so much as an empty mead bottle in sight. The tension was so thick that they could have cut it with a knife. They froze when they heard angry shouting from up ahead and moved forward, both ready for battle and also curious as to what was going on.

A large wooden door looked ominously in front of them and Inielowne straightened up and gave the door a tug. Slipping through the narrow gap and leaving the door open a crack, they crept forward. Bright sunlight streamed in from holes in the ceiling, turning the gray stone to silver. Ahead of them was an old wooden fence that looked like it was barely holding on to existence; approaching the fence they peered over the edge and both had to stifle surprised sounds. Below them was a throng of bandits, all armed to the teeth and shouting at a smartly dressed Breton.

“I do not see what is the problem is,” the Breton was saying, his voice smooth like stepping stones polished by a river. “I have done what we have agreed upon. I gave you drinks and food, I help renovate Helgen until it became a fortress, I made the connections so that the guards of Falkreath could be bribed. What is there more to be done?”

“How about our cut of what the Master gives you?” snapped a female Nord. “We kidnapped the people you wanted, and your buddies came here and started waving bags of gold. Where is our cut?”

“You have already been given ‘your cut’ and more!” the Breton snapped. “I have done much for you and now that my Master has all the souls he need, he no longer requires the services of bandits such as you, and as payment for your years of patience and service you are given Helgen and have free reign to do as you see fit.”

“Is that all! Traitor!” snarled a Khatjiit. He wrenched two swords from his belt and charged at the Breton.

His brothers and sisters in arms also drew their weapons. The Breton sneered, his hands began to glow purple and sparks flying from his palms.

Inielowne heard Aziari gasp and let out a cry as the Khajiit tackled her to the ground. She was about to yell at her “What are you doing!” when she heard Aziari yell over the battle cries and crackling of electricity. “Keep down!”

Inielowne felt all the hair on her body stand up straight when there was a sudden blast of lightning from below. The cries of pain were almost as overpowering as the smell of burnt hair and flesh. When the lightning vanished, as quickly as it had come, and all was still, Aziari finally scrambled off Inielowne and shakily stood up. Inielowne rose and walked over to the fence and looked down - and immediately wished she hadn’t. The Breton was no longer there but the burnt corpses of the bandits were a sign of how powerful the man actually was.

“Lightning Storm,” Aziari whispered softly, “A master destruction spell that one can only learn from the teachers at the College of Winterhold. How did someone like him get that spell? The spell tome is under lock and key. Not even the Thieves Guild could get it!”

“I think it can be safe to say we don’t have to worry about running into any more bandits but just in case, get behind me.” Inielowne whispered the words, even though there were no enemies left to overhear them, and made her way towards the winding stairs to her left. Aziari followed her and both had to hold their breath at the sickening smell of burnt from below.

Inielowne stared at the charred bodies for a few moments before stepping around them; even she wasn’t going to pick the pockets of bandits that had flesh burnt all the way to their bones, no matter how much gold and jewels they had on them. Walking through the open doorway, they hurried down the hallway until another door appeared ahead of them. Inielowne could feel the fresh Skyrim air blowing against her skin through the cracks in the wood and didn’t think for even a second before flinging the door wide open.
Bright sunlight filled the courtyard that lay ahead of them. It was the most beautiful sight Inielowne had ever seen - even including the surprised looking bandits who gave them startled looks before grabbing their weapons.

Inielowne swore under her breath and stepped into the courtyard; she wasn’t going to get trapped when they rushed her. Her first arrow landed in the neck of one bandit; she barely had time to grab another before an Argonian was upon her, brandishing a heavy greatsword. She braced herself for impact, but a moment later she was surprised to see a thick spear of ice impale the Argonian through the stomach.

She turned to see Aziari’s hand glow with magic as she launched another attack and smiled; things were finally looking up. After a few minutes, all the bandits in the courtyard as well as the ones that had come when they had heard fighting were dead, slain either by arrows or magical ice spikes and fireballs.

“Well done,” Inielowne remarked as she put her bow away. “Those were some really good shots.”

“Thanks.” Aziari smiled ruefully. “I am not happy with having to attack people - even if they are bandits - but there is a reason why Destruction magic exists,” The Khajiit took in some deep breaths. Inielowne guessed that casting all of those spells had really put a strain on her-even with her limited knowledge on magic; she knew it took a decent amount of magicka to cast spells repeatedly.

“Come on, I see the gate,” Inielowne said, after picking the pockets of the dead bandits - much to Aziari’s displeasure, “If we take the road we can get to Riverwood.”

Aziari nodded but didn’t sheath her spells as she followed Inielowne to the large gates that would lead them to freedom. But before Inielowne could think of opening the gates, they shook suddenly and a loud pounding came from the other side.

“We’re here. Let us in or we’re reporting you to the Jarl, you damn scum,” a gruff voice yelled. It was followed by the sounds of more than one person shuffling.

They both froze but Aziari came out of it sooner and was about to reply when Inielowne slammed a hand over her mouth and hissed into her ear, “These are the guards the bandits bought off, do you think that if we open the door to them they will let us get away? We know about their corruption, they’ll kill us before we can report them when they find out we aren’t bandits.”

Aziari forced Inielowne’s hand off her mouth and whispered back, “If they find out.”

Inielowne didn’t have time to ask when Aziari called out, “We can’t open the gates!”

There was silence before a guard snapped back, “Why not!”

“The Chief is having a meeting with the boss, something has come up. His orders were to not let anyone enter or leave until the meeting is over in a few hours,” Aziari replied smoothly and Inielowne could only stare, if the Khajiit talked like this more often she could have been a great conman…con-cat person.

“How many is ‘a few hours’?” the voice growled.

Aziari seemed to think carefully. Her eyes became clouded and Inielowne thought that she had somehow fell asleep standing up when she replied, “Three days.”
“That’s not ‘a few hours’!” a female guard shouted and the harsh banging on the gate started up again.

“I know but if this new plan works out, you are looking at an increase in your payment,” Aziari said, and the pounding stopped abruptly.

“How much of an ‘increase’?”

“Double or even possibility triple what you are getting right now - along with some other luxuries. Jewels, new armour and weapons, even possible connections to get promotions,” said Aziari slyly.

There was a long silence. Inielowne reached for an arrow; Aziari had filled the guards’ heads with thoughts of riches and pleasures, but if it didn’t work, they would need to fight.
“…Alright,” said the first guard at last. “We’ll be back in three days’ times, but you better make good on your word…or else.” He left the threat hanging open and dark in the air.

Aziari didn’t say anything until the gravel crunching under the guards’ feet faded away. She released a huge sigh.

“That was scary,” she said, trembling slightly. “I didn’t think that they were going to buy it. But I am glad they did.”

“You would have convinced me, that’s for sure,” said Inielowne with a smile. “But what now? If we leave through the gates, the guards will know something is up and attack. And I am not up for running through the country side.”

“Come on, follow me. I had a vision when I was talking to the guards; there is another way out of here.” Aziari grabbed Inielowne’s hand and pulled her along towards a tower.
“A vision? Is that why you were standing so still? And that’s how you have a vision? Your eyes just get weird?” asked Inielowne.

“Pretty much but I am surprised when I saw it, I didn’t know that she had been here too,” said Aziari, sounding quite puzzled.

“Who?” Inielowne asked when they reached the door to enter the tower.

“The Dragonborn. She was here twenty years ago when it was attacked by the World-Eater, Alduin. She escaped with a man that she had meet here….who he was, I don’t know. She ran into this tower - Helgen Keep is the name my vision gave me got - and battled some soldiers, spiders and a bear, and then she escaped and saw Alduin fly away.” Aziari pushed open the door and entered the tower - Helgen Keep, as she’d called it.

“You got all of that from a vision that lasted - what, a few seconds?” Inielowne, burst out, amazed. She was still a little wary, but maybe she had been a little too harsh when she said that Aziari had been having Skooma.

“Yeah, come one. I have no idea if there are any bandits in here or not,” said Aziari softly, walking towards the door that was on her right with Inielowne following her.

Pushing open the steel door open, they walked down the stairs with a torch every ten steps lighting their way. Getting to the bottom and turning the corner they saw a huge wall of rocks blocking their path.

“These rocks fell when Alduin attacked, it almost crushed the Dragonborn but she was far enough back that it missed her,” Aziari whispered, going to the door that was on her left and shoving it open.

Inielowne’s face lit up the way the Aurora Borealis lights up the night sky. They had walked into a kitchen that was still stocked with a full buffet of good food and drinks lying out on a table.

“Before we move on, let’s get something to eat. I am famished,” Inielowne said as she strolled right up to a table and sat down. Aziari looked like she was going to argue when her stomach grumbled like a rock slide, and she silently agreed when she sat down next to Inielowne and grabbed a loaf of bread.

Swallowing down a mouthful of half cold grilled leeks, Inielowne took a swing of a mug of ale before asking Aziari, “What brought you here anyways?”

“Hmh?” Aziari asked, her mouth full of bread and cooked beef.

“You’re a mage that was born, lived and learned at the College, what made you come all the way out here, this far south?” Inielowne asked, giving Aziari a chance to chew and swallow.

“I had a dream, a very vivid dream for over a month of events that happened 20 years ago. And every single one of those dreams had the Dragonborn in it. Either I was looking through her eyes or as a specter, I saw her complete the amazing feats that is still told to this day. But then the dreams turned dark and terrifying, I saw a world where dragons ruled the skies, burning down everything and killing to their heart content. No matter where I looked, the Dragonborn was not around.

“Then on that last day of the month, I saw the shrines of the Eight Divines and the voice of Akatosh spoke to me. He said … Alduin was my first born. His power was like a God’s, though he was not one. His soul was too great for the Dragonborn to absorb, and so Alduin went to the Void. Now an evil that flies on black wings will come again. The Dragonborn must be found - and I appoint you and your comrade to find her,” Aziari said until her voice was a whisper, her eyes locked in a staring contest with her cup of ale.

Inielowne was quiet, her first instinct was to snort and then laugh. But after having seen Aziari’s magical skill in battle and her ‘visions’ up close and saying things that no one else could… It didn’t seem impossible that Akatosh himself had spoken to Aziari in her dreams.

“But she’s been missing for 20 years. No one knows where she is. Many heroes and treasure hunters have looked for her and they have failed. What makes you think that you are any different? Alright, the visions can help but how often do you get the visions anyways?” Inielowne reached for an Elder cheese wedge.

“There must have been some kind of sign she left behind, I know that I will find it. I guess I need the right push, and I have a feeling that if I go with you, I’ll get it,” Aziari said, her eyes shining brightly as she looked over to Inielowne.

Inielowne took note of the fact that the Khajiit had completely ignored her question, and couldn’t help but feel a little bit irritated.

“Whoa, hold on. I’m just going to Riverwood and then I’m hitting the road again to get to Falkreath. I am not interested in going in any adventure, especially for a hero that could have been dead for the last 20 years with some cat,” Inielowne snapped but instantly regretted it when she saw Aziari’s face fall.

“Look, I am grateful for your help and I bet you are grateful for my help. But I am no hero, nor even so much as an adventurer. I am High Elf archer who loves gold, and my final destination is going to be Riften where I will spend the rest of life in prosperity.”

“You’re going to join the Thieves Guild, aren’t you?” Aziari asked. Her voice was quiet, but bitter.

“Yes I am hoping so. Aziari, I am thankful to you and I owe you my life but I can’t, in any way, go on an adventure. It is not in me to do that,” Inielowne said softly, clutching her mug as if it was a life line.

“So you never wondered or thought of what it could be like to be someone else? I have seen two sides to you, Inielowne; you are both a kind soul and like any other arrogant Altmer. I bet ten Septims that you have had stirrings in her heart that compelled you to come to Skyrim, that compelled to you to go to Falkreath. You don’t know why, but you did anyways, and now you heart is saying something else. Let me ask you this: if we do separate, do you think that that feeling will go away?”

Inielowne glowered at Aziari for a moment, but then decided her attention would be better focused on the food than on the Khajiit’s difficult question. Aziari watched her for a moment, before sighing and also going back to her meal. When both were full and had used the bathroom that had been so nicely placed by the kitchen - who knows how many times a bandit undercooked something and gave their fellow bandits food poisoning - Aziari found a knapsack by the cupboard and filled it with several items that had been lying around - why they had been there is the first place no one will ever know. Bandits were such slobs - such as potions, an empty book, quills and ink, empty bottles and a map of Skyrim.

Heaving the knapsack on her back, Aziari led Inielowne through the maze of hallways and rooms until the gray stone walls began to transform into brownish rocks with small rivers flowing over the black earth beneath her feet. Pausing only to fill the empty bottles with fresh water, they continued with sunlight pouring in through holes in the ceiling, slowly warming them.

Finally after some walking through an old Frostbite spider nest and a cave strewn with bones, they saw it – a doorway. And beyond it, light. Both Inielowne and Aziari practically ran out and raised their arms into the air. The full sun finally banished the cold and damp that clung to them from the tunnels, but at the same time it reminded them that daylight would soon be over as it was lowering itself towards the horizon.

“Freedom!” cried Inielowne, with Aziari saying at the same time, “It’s good to feel fresh clean air again!”

For a few minutes, the simple stood there, silently celebrating their escape. The Aziari rubbed her hands together. “Alright, let’s start walking. Riverwood is a town that’s by the river right?”

“Yup, if we follow the river and stay on the road, we should be good. By the way, if we meet any guards, let me do the talking. There is a possibility that the guards from earlier could be up ahead and breaking boundaries,” said Inielowne as she started walking, Aziari hurrying along beside her.

“Alright.” Aziari stooped suddenly, her eyes pricking. “Hey, look! Mountain flowers! I should pick some, I need to go over my Alchemy again,”

The rest of the journey continued in much the same way. The two walked side by side asking simple questions like, “What is your favourite color?” or playing ‘I Spy’ with Aziari often wondering off the path to pick flowers. Aziari then asked if Inielowne could carry her bag for a while, which she did. After a while, she started waited for Aziari to take it back, which she didn’t.

Inielowne let out a huff of annoyance as she continued to walk, Aziari’s knapsack weighing heavily on her shoulders. The sooner she found an inn to rest and drink herself stupid the better.

“Oh!” cried Aziari, causing Inielowne to freeze as she quickly drew her bow and notched an arrow; had a bandit survive their attack?

“Look!” she said as she pointed ahead and Inielowne followed her gaze. Up ahead, in a small little clearing made of silver-gray rocks and stones that was partially covered in thick tree roots were three stones, as tall as a person. The stones looked old and weathered but also seemed sturdy and… somehow wise.

“The Guardian Stones,” breathed Aziari. “I wanted to find those ancient stones and now I have….well, we have anyways.”

“The Guardians Stones? What are they?” Inielowne asked as she put away her bow and arrow and watched Aziari jogged towards the stones.

“They’re, well, stones. But ancient stones, and filled with magic from back when Skyrim was a young land filled with wonder and things long since forgotten,” Aziari said, calling over her shoulder.

Inielowne watched Aziari walk over to the stones, seeming to almost burst with excitement. Inielowne snorted and rolled her eyes, she didn’t truly care for history, it had never been her strong suit but if she knew enough about Aziari since she had met her, there was a more than a likely possibility that she will somehow end up doing something rather stupid: like trip and fall off the damn cliff.

She jogged until she caught up with Aziari, who seemed spell-struck, her eyes clouded with joy. She whipped her head around and grabbed her hands, making Inielowne jump at the action, “Do you know what this means?” she asked.

Inielowne shook her head and watched as Aziari released her hands and step onto the pedestal and look at the stones with great concentration, as if trying to determine something.

“If we get a blessing from these stones, our skills will become better as we will learn them quicker, as if guided by the Divines,” Aziari said, turning to look at Inielowne, who stared blankly back.

“You point?” asked Inielowne, as she took a second glance at the stones. The stones were taller than either of them and a much darker gray color than the platform that they were standing on. Metalwork covered the sides and some areas near the top, while a perfectly circle hole was drilled in the stone and was surrounded by the metal. And about a hand width beneath the metal and hole were symbols and people craved into the stones.

Despite herself, Inielowne found herself studying the pictures. She recognised them instantly: representations of the constellations of the Mage, the Warrior, and the Thief.
“You are an archer, you rely on your bow and arrows, but you also need stealth. The Thief Stone will help you-“began Aziari.

“Not interested, come one, we still have a ways to go,” said Inielowne firmly, turning to continue down the road.

“-Sneak better. And did I forget to mention that the stone also helps with other thief skills such as pickpocketing and lockpicking… to help one become richer?” finished Aziari, a sour tone in her voice. But that wasn’t what made Inielowne stop.

A stone with ancient magic that helps people become better thieves and, more importantly, richer thieves? That sounded like a dream come true. Before she could stop herself, Inielowne was standing beside Aziari among the stones again.

“You want the one beside mine to the left,” said Aziari as she took her place in front of the centre stone. It looked like Inielowne had been half right when she thought that Aziari might fall off a cliff. “While you get the Thief Stone, I’ll get the Mage Stone.”

“OK,” Inielowne said as she took the same stance in front of the Thief Stone and asked, “How do we activate it? I don’t see a button.”

Aziari took her hand and place it in the hole and let it rest on the bottom, “Place you hand on the stone like so and repeat the lines either out loud and in your mind, ‘I accept the power of the Thief stone – it’ll be Mage stone for me - until I either perish or choose another stone’s blessing, from now till the end of time.’ After that, the stone will react and you have the blessing. Ready?”

Inielowne nodded and took in a deep breathe; she felt silly doing this, saying some corny oath to a piece of rock, good thing that only ones around were some bunnies so they would be the only ones to laugh at her.

“I accept the power of Thief Stone until I either perish or choose another stone’s blessing, from now till the end of time,” Inielowne murmured, while beside her Aziari repeated the same words, substituting ‘thief’ for ‘mage’. Nothing happened after for a few seconds and Inielowne felt like snapping at Aziari for making her do something so foolish when the stones began to glow, the symbols and cravings glow a bright sky blue as the hole in the stone shone the same color.

Inielowne felt the energy crackle over her hand and she felt her hair stand up end, she couldn’t help but look out of the corner of her eye and saw that Aziari’s fur was bristling, so she wasn’t the only one feeling that energy. A light shot from the stone and into the sky, making two parallel beams of light that lasted for a few seconds before fading; the light and energy from the stones also faded when the beams disappeared.

Inielowne removed her hand and rubbed it, she could still feel the energy buzzing in her arm; was this what it meant to have a blessing from these ancient stones? Did anyone else go through the same experience when they took the blessing?

“Wow,” breathed Aziari and Inielowne nodded her head in agreement; no words could describe fully what had just happened.

“Come on,” Inielowne said as she placed a hand on Aziari’s shoulder, “we still have a lot of distance to cover. We got to try and make it to Riverwood by nightfall; I rather not spend another restless night in the wilderness, there would still be some bandits around.”

Aziari nodded while she took back her knapsack and followed Inielowne as they made their way down the road. They didn’t talk as they walked, for what could they talk about now? They had talked about simple things and played a game to pass the time because it felt weird to walk in silence for too long. Now that that was all said and done, the questions loomed over their heads like dark clouds. Aziari had dreams and visions of the Dragonborn and wanted to go on a quest to find her, Inielowne wanted no part in it. When the time came for them to part ways, then they would talk.

Inielowne smiled when she saw Riverwood up ahead, it was good to see that small town again. Picking up her pace until she was jogging, she heard Aizari pick up her pace to match hers until they practically ran into town.

“Hello Riverwood!” Inielowne called as she threw her arms back and started to twirl down the road. She got a few looks from the locals but for once, she really didn’t care.
“Blacksmith?” Inielowne called. “Where are the guards? We have important news of something that has happened up the road.”

“They are in the inn having something to eat, it’s about dinner time,” the blacksmith called back, leaning against the entrance into his workshop.
“Thank you,” Inielowne said and made her way to the inn with Aziari in tow. Going up the steps and opening the door, Inielowne was greeted by the typical chatter of patrons in the inn as they ate food that smelled heavenly to her.

Spotting four guards at a table across from her she walked up and tapped one on the shoulder. The guards chuckling died down when they saw her and Inielowne could hear the eyebrows being raised even though their helmets were still on as one asked, “Yes High Elf, what can we help you with?”

“You must send someone to Whiterun at once and alert Jarl Balgruuf. We have learn important information about the recent bandit attacks,” said Inielowne confidently and the guards looked at her for a moment before laughing.

“You must be joking, if we fell for something like that every time Riverwood would be defenseless,” wheezed a guard.

Inielowne clenched her fists until she felt her nails dig painfully into her skin and was about to snap back when Aziari spoke up from behind her, “Very well, you don’t have to go, we’ll go instead.”

The guards stopped laughing and looked at Aziari oddly, whether it was because she was a mage or because she was a Khatjiit she didn’t know as Aziari continued, “My companion and I will stay here for the night and rest and we will set off for Whiterun tomorrow at dawn. We will inform Jarl Balgruuf ourselves of this important information and when he asks why a pair of civilians were the only ones willing to do this, we’ll tell him that guards in his hold were too lazy and biased to be of any assistant to the citizens of Skyrim.”

The guards stared at them as Aziari grabbed Inielowne’s hand and pulled her towards the bar when a Nord was polishing a cup.

“Do you have any rooms to spare?” Aziari asked and the Nord nodded with a grunt, “Very well, my friend and I will take a room each and have a meal made for four. We’ll pay together.”

Inielowne stared at her and Aziari shrugged off her gaze, “You said that you were going to drink yourself stupid, you can do that after we deliver the information to the Jarl.”
Inielowne nodded her head and let Aziari guide her to a table that was set for two and waited for the inn keeper to serve them their meals.

They ate their meals in silence except for the sounds of knives and forks scrapping across their plates and their cups being placed a bit too hard on the table. After finishing their meal they split the bill evenly between the two of them and paid for the rooms where they retired for the rest of the evening.

Inielowne stared at the ceiling; the only light in her room was from the moon’s sliver glow falling through the window. Silently, she went over what had happened in the past day and a half. She had escaped from a cell in a dungeon, meet her neighbour who was an odd talking spell casting Khajiit, killed a few bandits and saw around ten get slaughtered by a rich looking Breton with a powerful spell that he shouldn’t know. She now had information regarding the reason why there had been such odd bandit attacks and she was to go to Whiterun and tell the Jarl…when she had left Riverwood this was the last thing she had thought she would be doing.

She sighed and turned over, trying to will herself to sleep. She had a nasty feeling that tomorrow was going to be a long day.

She was already awake and dressed up in her light armour when Aziari knocked on her door.

“Come in,” she said as she inspected her bow, looking for any evidence that the bandits had somehow damaged her new ill-gotten bow and wished that she had her old bow back.
“Breakfast is ready and already paid for, let’s eat up and hit the road,” Aziari said as she entered, looking bright and….bushy tailed for today. Whatever it may bring…

Inielowne nodded and left her room and went with Aziari to their table where they once again ate in silence. After they had finished eating and the inn keeper had taken their dirty plates, Aziari pulled out a map and using a claw, carefully traced the road they were to take to get to Whiterun. Placing it back in her knapsack and checked to make sure she had everything before leaving the inn, they left the inn and walked under the dark blue sky, which was beginning to turn amber as the sun lifted itself over the horizon. Taking the road that lead towards the bridge, the river bubbled and gurgled gently underneath the bridge.

Inielowne had taken this road before when she had taken a chart from Solitude to Whiterun but the beauty in the landscape always made her feel content. Rounding the corner and looking towards the distance stood Whiterun. Silhouetted against the rising sun, the city looked like it was still asleep – and
Inielowne hoped it stayed that way, some of the store keepers might not be so happy to see her so soon.

“Come one, let’s get going,” said Inielowne as she took the lead, Aziari a step behind her. They passed by a brewery where Inielowne could smell fresh mead being made. The farmers were already working in their fields and barely glanced when Inielowne and Aziari passed by, travellers had come up and down the road for ages and they were no different. The strong smell of horses greet them as they passed by the stables and Inielowne looked away when a man sitting in a cart stared at her, trying to think if he had seen her before.

Walking up the path towards the main gates, Inielowne eyed the guards, waiting to see if they would react. Even though the Dragonborn had asked for unity and equality for all races, the Holds still banned Khajiit caravans from entering their main cities. Plenty took that to the extreme and simply barred that entire race, and Aziari was very much a member of it.

Her fears were confirmed when a guard’s voice called out. “You’re not allowed in there Khajiit; wait outside while your little elf companion does her business inside the city.”
She felt Aziari bristle and saw her companion’s hands curling into fists. Inielowne shrugged.

“Welcome to Whiterun,” She muttered.