The Elder Scrolls; Shadowlynch

The Elder Scrolls - Shadowlynch
By Connor Eric Noble


Acknowledgments

The Elder Scrolls (Abbreviated TES) is a game series designed and created by Bethesda Softworks. The lore, some of the characters, places and events mentioned in this book are all creations of Bethesda and are mainly based off of their 2006 Xbox 360 Roleplaying Game ?Oblivion? which was and still is a genre defining game that I came to pour countless ours into. The branding, title and logos are all trademarks owned by Bethesda. The main inspiration for this novel came from Gregory Keyes, who released a book in his own series titled ?The Infernal City?, in which the plot takes place four decades after the Oblivion Crisis mentioned frequently in this book. And more importantly from my friend Jay Lynch, whom I based the main character off. Without him urging me on to dedicate my precious gaming time to write this book, I don't think I'd have ever even thought of writing this. (I still managed to fit the extra few hours of Oblivion in between writing sessions for 'Extra Research', though.) To my friends Cameron Hornsey and Anthony Graham for all the moral support, the help in getting the book published and for generally egging me on to finish the damn thing.
This book, like The Infernal City, takes place after the Oblivion Crisis, though this much much sooner after. The reason for that is so there would be a stream of books leading up to the events of the Infernal City, and there would be this idea of the world of Tamriel undergoing several separate events that would shape its future, therefore paving the way for sequels in the making.
Thank you for purchasing my book, if you enjoy it you should go out and buy a copy of Oblivion right after you finish if you haven't got a copy already, or purchase its sequel, Skyrim. Available from most major entertainment stores and digital retail markets (I.e. Steam, Xbox Live)
I had a tonne of fun writing this book, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Note for Cloud Sixteen;
Please excuse the spacing and the several posts. The damn character count sucks ass.

1

To Charlotte.
Rest In Peace.

The great land of Cyrodil stood still in time. A strong wind howled and hissed through the branches of the trees that riddled the terrain. A lush setting of green and foliage, a true beauty to behold. The blinding sun sank quietly into the backdrop of the mountains far beyond the South of the Imperial City, and not far from Leyawiin toward the East, a prosperous and peaceful settlement crept into a sleep.. From the rooftops of the towering buildings in the town of Woodsong a breath taking view of the setting sun can be seen. And sitting on the wooden railing of his balcony was a young boy, fair of face and long, unwashed auburn hair to match his brown eyes. His posture, crooked and his figure, twig like, but yet nimble and quick, agile and fast. To the common eye he was just another village boy, but alas, not everything is as we perceive it to be.

His mouth formed a smile as he observed the shade of the sky darken, he climbed off from the rail and walked back into his room. The boy lived in the annex of an inn, and therefore his walls were slanted. He's hit his head in the same places more times than he cares to remember, and his clumsiness continued to grow extra tedious. His mother had lashed him about for accidentally breaking things quite a lot, too. They didn't tend to speak much any more, not since she hired a new cook any ways. The boy would have made a fine chef, back in the day, should he had taken more care with the kitchenware. And so instead he tailored his professions around the art of hunting, and over the years he had befriended the local fletcher and blacksmith. He had gained a fast understanding of a bow and a dagger, and much preferred the use of shorter weapons than say, a staff or a broadsword, as his body simply wasn't capable of deftly wielding such things. He often dreamt about the outside world and fantasised about leaving the confinements of the village, to maybe find work in Leyawiin and one day become a great adventurer. But as a small boy growing up in a village, he had quickly came to learn amongst everything else that becoming an adventurer was something everyone had dreamt about once in their life. And to the days of their death, it will have still been a dream.

Still, the Boy did not take heed of any of his Mother's lectures on wondering the surrounding forests, nor did he care about what was to be found out there. He just wanted to find it. Whether he was to shoot it down, slash at it, wield it, treasure it or just to sell it when he got to the Imperial City, he simply wanted to make something of the world he so desperately watched come to life each morning and sleep toward the days end. Outside the conversations about the importance of keeping a blade fresh and sharp with the Blacksmith who stood outside his forge every day and hammered down a new piece of iron, he was very isolated from even that of the small world in which he had grown so weary of.

The world outside was not as kind a place as he had once thought, and he came to learn this after the Oblivion Crisis. It was the same event that sent his father off to join the Imperial Legion and fight alongside the very best of them with the Emperor and the Blades along the fronts of the Gates to Oblivion. One of which it is told he closed down with his battalion. His life was lost in that fight and the Boy hadn't forgotten that valuable lesson; sometimes things have to be sacrificed to save the people we love.

His family were a family of Imperials, as were their ancestors before them, an entire line of Innkeepers and bartenders, all from this small village. For the most part the boy felt a sense of peace in his loneliness. A profound feeling of solitude only meant that he couldn't be harmed. Or at least, not whilst he was awake. Recurring nightmares persisted, haunting his every night's sleep, although none of it made sense and he usually just woke up feeling bewildered and confused. Sometimes he didn't know where he was, he would wake up shouting and screaming, disturbing other residents who had rented a room on their travels. He would have nightmares of the sky turning grey and holes being ripped through the clouds, Giant hands reaching through and setting the world before him alight. He dreamt of watching as a figure would come before him, daggers at his hip, and hold out his hand. He would take it and together they went into the light. He would sometimes ponder upon what these dreams could have meant, he would daydream the same thing on repeat and play it back slowly bit by bit in his head. Almost every time he would come out of these daydreams with nothing more than what he went into them with; questions.

Day by day the time would pass slowly and day by day he would sharpen a wooden dagger he hand crafted himself and help around the Inn wherever his Mother thought it suitable. This would usually end up in the Boy cleaning the tankards, washing down the tables or running messages to the locals that lived around the village. The village wasn't large at all, it consisted of the Inn, a Blacksmith attached to a Fletchers and a General Trade store, and maybe six residences.

In his imagination he could touch the stars without stilts, but in this harsh reality he would find himself lost in as he watched the day drown out into the backdrop, he could relate to the Blacksmith in a way, his name was Ewan, a Nord born in the province of Skyrim. He was suffering from major arthritis in his bones but he persisted to work on the forge whilst his son crafted arrows to the finest quality. Ewan left his home when his wife died from childbirth, as the forging industry in that area was undergoing a slow and drastic turn for the worse, the required fire salts he used so frequently were of short supply, and therefore the metal he crafted was flimsy and heavy with no sharpening potential. Cyrdoil's market was thriving more than ever, and fire salts could be easily shipped in. For the past twenty years and still going, Ewan lived in Woodsong and helped build it fifteen years before the birth of the Boy. He was firm friends with his father and this was one of the main reasons the Boy had come to count him. And when his father was killed in battle, Ewan was the Boy's only friend. His son, Tuyen, had come to resent his father for forcing him into the life he led. He too wanted to become an adventurer, and the Boy would sometimes talk about it with him, but Tuyen had too many reasons not to leave. The Boy was yet to live a fulfilling life, and with almost sixteen years of it gone before his eyes, he would one night stop caring about the world behind him altogether. That would be the night he met Lynch.

 

2

It was the 30th of Frostfall in the First year of the Fourth Era. The last Birthday to be celebrated of Emperor Uriel Septim VII, and almost a full year after the 7th Champion of Cyrodil had helped Martin Septim solve the Oblivion Crisis that had caused so much chaos, destruction and unrest through the land. It would seem that the Imperial Province of Cyrodil was finally recovering from such events, but it did not feel like it. Many travellers from villages and towns near and far all made a journey through the wilderness to join in the festivities at the Imperial City. It would be a festival to last for days. Fireworks were shot into the sky by Mages of the Arcane University, many Bards came to play their music and people of all Races and Guilds would come together to celebrate their victory against the Daedra and their forces. The land was at a peace, and prosperity and happiness rose through the bitter cold. The Inn saw a steady flow of gold coming in with all of the extra travellers along the roads. And on that faithful night of the Festival's beginning, a tall and broad shouldered Elf by the name of Lynch came along the road and into the Inn where the boy had lived. Little did the Boy know that this was going to be the one day that his life would change forever, the day he would finally see the outside world.

After lowering his hood and mask from his face, Lynch settled into a seat in the far corner of the Inn. The bells in his dreads jingled as he moved, and he did so with such grace that most of the time you couldn't hear them at all. But when they did, they sounded so calming you could imagine they were attached to the Gates of the Dreamsleeve. The dim candlelight around him was just low enough for him to conceal his face even without the mask and hood. You may think that defeats the purpose of exposing his face from the masks in the first place, but in those times people wandering with concealed faces were often assumed to be bandits and criminal scum. The Inn was quiet, and only the voices of the group of Redguard pilgrims engaged in conversation could be heard from a table a distance away from him. He was sure this was where the Boy lived, there was no other place around he could find that suited the description gave to him. He delved his hand into the back pouch on his hip and from it a parchment was pulled out. He unfolded it gently and scanned his eyes across it, reading the second paragraph carefully. It was written in the ancient language of the Aldmeri, something which he was luckily fluent in. Looking for a particular line, he had to read it out to himself in his mind, until finally he found what he needed.
'A dawn shall set, the light will be left and the forest, it sleeps after song. And after the day the night became and all hope will be lost.'
He remembers now the first time he unravelled the mystery behind the verse. Desperately hoping in his head that this was definitely the place he sought. The dawn was long pass, and the sky was now black as void. Forest and woods, songs and sleep. Where else to sleep than the Inn of Woodsong? Surely..
That was when the Boy himself made an appearance, and a rather drastically quick one at that. He came crashing down the stairs, his Mother following, lashing a piece of cloth around at him shouting things Lynch didn't care to try and translate. The Redguards instantly roared up in laughter at the way the woman was frantically trying to attack her son, but as soon as the Boy made it out the door, she stopped and turned to face the laughter of the drunk pilgrims, turning her rants of anger towards them. Lynch smiled in relief, that was the boy he was searching for. Folding the paper once again he slid it into his pouch and stood, pulling his hood over his head and making his way out into the night. He could smell the Boys fresh scent only just starting to fade, wherever he had gone, Lynch was sure he hadn't gone far. Glancing down he could make out some faint dust tracks, and instinctively followed them, making sure his sharp elven nose could cling onto that lingering aroma of the Inn that clung to the Boy's clothes as he went. Eventually he found himself stammering through the woods, he could hear the Boy's movements very faintly now, the crunches of twigs and the sway of branches being pushed gave him away more and more. Lynch began to run, he must make sure that he doesn't go too far away from safety, otherwise everything he did to find this place and the boy will have been lost and the world will have surely faced an entirely new threat with no one to save it. Finally, after emerging from a gap in some bushes, he could see the Boy stood still, frozen almost. Lynch took a moment to catch his breath before looking forward to notice that the Boy had been stabbed. A very fine blade had been rammed through his stomach and the blood that was pouring from his back struck Lynch with a hammer of fear. He was taken aback with the sight, and not a moment passed before Lynch was already up on his feet charging, daggers unsheathed and wielded. The Boy's body was thrown aside and a man stood in a long red robe and dark armour of Daedric fashion stood before him, his blade stained with fresh blood. It was the Mythic Dawn.

Lynch didn't hesitate at all, within seconds of rushing toward the assailant he was already slicing away at the neck of the robes that his attacker worn. The assassin had proved to be of no matching skill, and fell before Lynch quickly and quietly. But he ceased to lower his weapons. After ensuring the man was dead, he glanced around and listened very closely for any more signs of movement, but none could be seen or heard. Of course, his arrival wasn't anticipated. He still had the element of surprise on any further assailants anyways. He eventually sheathed his weapons and turned his attention to the Boy now laying in a pool of blood. This was not good. That boy must stay alive. Those were the words the prophet Arain had said to him. He approached the Boy, pulling out a very small tome from his side pouch and flicking through the pages whilst kneeling next to him. Lynch raised his hand into the air and closing his eyes, chanted a healing ward onto the Boy's body, hoping that it would at least close the wound and buy him some time. Quickly realising there was but one thing left to do, he mounted the Boy onto his shoulder, grunting at how surprisingly heavy he was, and sought to make a quick escape from the woods. Seeing a very obvious path out of them, he followed, realising this must have been the one the Boy went down. Going as quickly as he can, it wasn't long before they were back on the outskirts of Woodsong, but more importantly not long away from his horse in the Stables. Now realising that the blood from the Boy's wound was running violently down his leather breastplate, Lynch struggled through a quick burst of an adrenaline rush that sent him sprinting through the centre of the Village towards the stable, trying his best to keep out of sight. Finally reaching his horse, he looked around, making sure there was no witness in sight before mounting the Boy from his shoulders to the horse. He quickly unsheathed his Daggers once again, sliding them into sheaths attached to the pack his horse carried. He took off the belt that held the sheaths together and wrapped it around the upper area of the Boy's torso, acting as an improvised tourniquet. Oh by Akatosh he hoped this would work. He took his seat upon the horse and reared it, ready to go. It instantly took off along the road, far away from Woodsong. Far away from the Boy's mother, from the Inn, from the Blacksmith, the Fletcher, from home.

 

3

An hour passed, and the rocky terrain proved a difficult challenge to the horse and its rider, but they prevailed long enough for the Boy to have a chance of survival. They arrived upon Bravil, but rather than going through the Main Gates and being queried about the Boy, Lynch instead entered the sewers, once again carrying him upon his shoulders, his horse faithfully waiting outside of the stables. The venture through the underground tunnel was brief and it took mere minutes for him to get through into the back alley adjacent to the far town wall. He moved quickly, he knew where to go now.

The City's bustling streets were devoid of any citizens now, and only the Night Watch were around. prowling the cobblestone streets looking for thieves. Quite coincidentally, a thief was just the type of person who Lynch was looking for.. Luciana Galena lived on the second floor of a residential building, the first floor being abandoned and up for sale. After climbing a set of stairs and once more feeling the pressure of an almost dead Imperial on his shoulders, he grunted and panted for breath even more now than he did previously. He noticed the bleeding had stopped, any ways, but the Boy was still unconscious. Whether he had been knocked out before being stabbed or just from the pain or fear was unclear to Lynch, but at least he knew he was still alive. The Boy's breathing became heavy and it sounded more and more like a struggle by the second. Lynch knocked on the door thrice, paused and knocked again, as was the calling sign for any Thieves Guild Fence to outside members. Moments later Luciana unlocked the door and bade him greetings, knowing what he had brought along with him.

She made no hesitation in letting them in, and before shutting the door poked her head outside for a quick check to ensure he wasn't followed, either from Night Watch or Mythic Dawn. After sealing her door, she followed the two into a dark room silently, observing the Boy's condition as Lynch lay him on a wooden cot deprived of a duvet. She examined his wounds carefully, first undressing him and taking off the tourniquet. Her face turned very sour as she continued to look at slice. The blood had clotted up most of the gash, and the magic Lynch had used had apparently taken its toll, and for that reason he knew he had a chance. Luciana turned to Lynch, stood and said
'So this is the Boy that she wanted?'
'Apparently so. He doesn't look like much. But then again I'm not the one foreseeing the end of the world.' Lynch said, crossing his arms and slouching against the wall.
'I still can't believe it. First Oblivion..' She went on as she looked over the Boy
'The details are still unclear, as of now, all we know is something similar is going to happen. Or, supposedly. You know how Arain is.'
'Yes, but by the Nine! It's been a year and already the 7th Champion has left us to Nocturnal knows where and already this happens! Bloody Arain, sending you all up and down the Province. How many boys just like this have you turned up to my step with?'
'You know how Arain can be.' He repeated, strongly. 'She's stronger now than what she was, she sees things clearly.' Although Lynch's words sounded reassuring, there wasn't anything about them that relieved her.
Lynch stepped over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder before finally saying
'I promise you, I won't be doing this much longer. Once I give Arain the boy, I'll make sure whatever she plans to do with him is rational. She still hasn't revealed her plans to me, but I guess I'm going to find out sooner or later. Don't worry, whatever she wants, and whatever this whole conspiracy is, you won't be a part of it much longer.'
Luciana nodded and sighed heavily as she stood. Once they were both sure the Boy was in stable condition they each left the room, going in separate ways down the corridors to their rooms. Luciana always had a spare room ready for Lynch, as he had visited often on his travels. The two had grown to be close friends in the past, and Lynch had grown a profound understanding of why she chooses the risky hide-in-plain-sight type of work that she did. She did it because she knows that the only places someone who is overly cautious will look is beyond their own nose, and that it pays very well. As it was, Bravil was already enough of one big Criminal Den, but Luciana saw herself as one of the more sophisticated criminals. After all, she was a Fence for the legendary Thieves Guild, and organised crime in Cyrodil had proven itself to be very hard to crack down upon. Especially the Dark Brotherhood. Uriel Septim had tried so very hard to tackle the mysterious group of murderers, but all attempts were futile. Any and every soldier that was assigned to the investigations of what was believed to be a Brotherhood Murder went either 'missing' or simply ended up dead at the scene. Some of them in their own beds in a barracks full of fully alert guards and some just in the wrong place at the right time. Lynch had always tried to steer as clear from them as he could, but one way or another he always managed to find himself consorting with the very same people he sworn he would never contact in his youth. The Dark Brotherhood was one of the top few whom he had loathed, but he loathed in such a compassionate way that every once in a while he got a few jobs here and there from them.

Of course, Lynch had killed before. He had once taken the life of a Brotherhood Member sent to kill him, and soon after killed the person who wished for his death; his very own Brother. After being awoken to fight an Ancestral Spirit in the dead of night, the Brotherhood was more impressed by his performance against his opponents rather than angered, and therefore chose to not only spare his life but offer him the occasional contract. And yet, although Lynch came to have honed most of his fighting skills from experienced Brotherhood members, he was still in denial of ever having a shred of enjoyment while working for those sick people. He knew deep down how he oh so much wanted to go back to it even still as he lay there in the comforting darkness of the room. The windowless walls that surrounded him gave him a feeling of being trapped, especially as he began to notice the veil of silence that was cast upon the streets. For a while, he felt ready to shut his eyes and fall into a deep rest, the day had been a long one and the hours of travelling and work had not treat his body well. He was tired, hungry and above all anxious.

He kept thinking about what Arain told him, about the boy and the realm. Playing back the conversations in his head, he could recall hearing every word she said, but he didn't remember actually listening to the majority of it. Arain had given him contracts like this before, the same old bag and tag, and for the first few Lynch was actually convinced that he was taking someone of extreme importance back to her, but they all were just the usual Innkeepers and Stable boys. None of them were of any real use to her, but he knew she was searching for someone. And after the many years of bringing Lynch up in the Arcane Sanctum, all of the wisdom and knowledge she had shared with Lynch as he was growing up, he simply couldn't refuse any of her requests. Mainly because he knew that this was the whole point of her teaching Lynch anything in the first place, but also because he felt as if he owed it to her to help her through these last dire years of old age. He always knew there was something in her mind, and that she could see things in ways that no other mortal could, and it was this that kept Lynch on his toes whenever she brought up a new name. But this time, this time was very different. No name for the Boy was given, she only assured him that this time she knew she was right, and that this child was the last part of hope that they had left of ever staying alive. After the Oblivion Crisis, Lynch was very much convinced that the boy she had in mind was to do with that, and that he was looking for Martin Septim, but when he asked her about it, she adamantly told him Martin Septim had his fate set before him by forces she couldn't determine, and that the Oblivion Crisis was nothing compared to what was to come should Lynch fail in the tasks set before him.

Of course, Lynch had his doubts at first, how could the son of any Innkeeper be the supposed saviour of Tamriel with no known connection to any royal bloodline like Martin before him or without any ties to any sort of natural force? As far as Lynch could tell, his family hadn't aligned themselves to any religion and they had no sort of worship shrines around the Inn. The initial question was how could a simple, prepubescent village boy play any major role in the saving of all races on the face of the world? He had always asked himself the same question throughout every person he led to her, and each time there wasn't the slightest hint he saw to even remotely suggest that they had any significant part in any upcoming event. But the simple fact that there was a Mythic Dawn Agent and that Lynch had to work very hard to find information on the Boy's whereabouts took him completely off guard. As to what the Boy would save them from he was unaware of, but Arain had once told him that Oblivion was to be the first of many of the trials ahead of us. This of course worried Lynch at first, as did all things Arain said to him, but over time her voice became almost monotonous to him and he found her repeating the same things to him over and over again without any credible explanation at all to back her up. Like wild rabbits, questions popped around his head, coming and going as new ones were raised. For a while, Lynch just lay on his back waiting for sleep to come and take him. But he found himself waiting a while.

That was when he heard a crash, sending him in a jolt of adrenaline. He jumped to his feet, grabbing his Dagger from the bedside table and moving to the door frame. He could hear numerous more crashes and the sound of glass shattering, falling to the floor. A shout came from outside of his room
'Where are they?!' To which a second voice replied with
'I have him. We have to move before the Night Watch come. Move, now!' And suddenly a clamour of thudding footsteps began to move out. Lynch instantly took action, this would be a risk he would have had to take. Four of them were making their way for the front door before two dropped dead, Daggers in their backs. The other two turned, the Boy being carried by the taller figure of the two. Mythic Dawn agents. The first drew his sword and charged at Lynch while the other just watched, standing still like a watchful statue. A downward slash almost hit Lynch in the shoulder, but he dodged and collided into a wall. The attacker instantly regained his motion and swung once more for Lynch's head, a well-timed duck and kick to the back of the leg was all it took to send the Agent to his knees with his sword now in Lynch's hands. Lynch swiftly swung the blade through the air, completely decapitating his enemy. The sound of blood splattering and the sword making a devilish slice through the air was enough to give Lynch a satisfying smile as he now looked feircely at his next opponent, who had by this point placed the Boy down and unsheathed a long scimitar.

That's how they must have found him. Scimitars. They were the Redguards from the Inn.

The man charged to Lynch, shouting a cry of war as the sword made random movements in any open position Lynch would leave himself in as he countered. Parry after parry, Lynch's arms were growing restless and tired, he knew he would have nothing left if this giant of a man was to continue attacking. So, he jumped back, lowering his sword. And with a cocky smirk brandished on his face, he taunted the Agent. The Agent was taken aback in anger and frustration and without hesitation rushed forwards in a flurry of uncoordinated lashes. Lynch stepped as far back as he could before delivering a finishing blow to the Agent's torso, almost severing him in half. He smiled in his victory, but his face almost immediately turned stone when he remembered Luciana was also asleep. He dropped his sword and his heart rapidly started to pound like a stampede of war horses charging into battle. He ran, turned the corner, tried to open the door to Luciana's room to no avail. It was either locked from the inside or barricaded, one or the other. Without hesitation he stepped back and waved his hands, conjuring a bolt of air that he forced toward the door. It didn't open, but a hole was ripped right through the centre, big enough for him to be able to reach inside and unlock it, anyways. He entered slowly, preparing himself for any immediate threat on the other side, only to find the windows across the room open and swaying and the room empty. He did not care where she had gone, he only knew she had escaped, and that was good enough for him. Now, to check on the Boy. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned and strolled into the main corridor to find him still sleeping. He was completely unharmed or undisturbed by any of the madness, to Lynch's surprise. He sighed heavily and exasperated in the thought of more travelling without rest. He could not stay here, not unless he wants to face another batch of Agents or even the Night Watch. He had to move. And fast.


Moving to the room, he strapped on his bracers, Leather Armour and pulled on his boots. His feet felt sore from all that had happened, and the thought of more to come made him sigh. He took his belongings, the spell tomes, the map, his flask and his few remaining precious poison darts that he seldom used. He decided that he'd probably need to ?keep hold of Luciana's possessions?, that being all of the stolen weapons and trinkets she'd acquired over time. He went into her room and checked around either side and under her bed, inside and outside her drawers and all around her various desks and the few hidden compartments she had stashed under the floorboards. All of them were either empty or full of things he would have rendered useless. Then he thought outside of the box, this was Luciana, she would have hidden things some place where no one would ever think about going. Not the floor, not the bed, but the walls. Lynch for a moment stared at it before reaching over and stroking his fingertips along it smoothly. It was definitely hollow, and the gap between this wall and the next sounded big when he knocked on it. He stood back, spread his legs and poised himself, he had done this exact sort of thing before. He leaned back and with his right palm he delved his hand directly into the wall, a deep cracking sound was heard from the inside and the the insides of the wall came tumbling out. At least a thousand gold coins and more worth of jewellery came spilling out from the crevices. Lynch felt delighted, he was sure Luciana wouldn't mind him holding onto her stuff in case the Watch raided her place in the foreseeable future.

He always was a thief at heart.

He stored all of the loot in several pouches he found in her drawers. Coming out of the room with at least seven bags around his waist felt glorious, and he smiled through every step. He remembered the exact same feeling after he conquered his way through The Sanctuary's Skeleton Challenge. Not the Arcane Sanctuary, but during his time with the Brotherhood, when his skills were doubted by several other Assassins, and he was challenged to a test. There was three skeletons summoned around the Sanctuary, each of them armed and set to explode should they be provoked. So they had to be silent and deadly, and he was just that. He went against Roen, a Redguard skilled in the arts of Archery, but not as skilled as Lynch. They each found a skeleton and dispatched it with ease, an arrow to the spine would force them to collapse and be sent back to Oblivion or wherever they were conjured from. But the third one was something entirely different. For the sake of a challenge, one of the Mages that was conjuring the skeletons was asked to heat the competition a little and rather than placing two docile and vulnerable moving targets he instead summoned five new foes, each of them extreme and formidable opponents. They luckily weren't going to explode if they made contact with either of the two, but they would try and kill them.

So the hunters became the prey, and they didn't even realise. The conjured undead split into two couples and one singular skeleton. This one in particular was a Skeletal Mage with skill in Illusion Magic. Roen was first to spot two from atop a high branch in a tree. His signature kill sign was hanging from a tree, and he didn't cease to impress his two fellow Assassins by pulling it off on the first one, not really caring about how there was two armoured skeletons and not just the one slightly armed target. But what he didn't realise was the second skeleton was holding a bow, and once he noticed the bones of his companion were slowly sinking into the ground back to Oblivion, he instantaneously drew an arrow and prepared it with cunning pace. Arrow after arrow came flying towards Roen and in his arrogance didn't realise he had alerted two more from the distance and was shocked to see one coming his way directly through the branches. Roen acted fast, and without struggle managed to leap to the ground floor atop the archer, rolling out safely as he landed. Balancing himself into a stance immediately after finding his feet, he could see more projectiles being hurled towards him; throwing knives. Roen didn't see it coming until last minute, however, and was lucky enough to watch it skim past the tip of his nose and into the skull of one of the skeletons that were silently flanking him. It was Lynch that had thrown the knife, and was standing but a few feet away from Roen.
'You got in the way.' He said, shaking his head. Roen by now had no further doubts that needed to be proven otherwise and secretly regretted risking his life over a game like he was. Yet, he smiled and for a fracture of a second, let his guard down. That was all that was needed for the skeleton pouncing through the trees to be able to leap down to him, lunging his short sword through the air aiming straight for his chest. But before the blade reached him, the thing holding it lay in a pile on the floor, sinking through the ground. Thank the Nine for Lynch's remarkably fast reflexes.

The final skeleton, however, took them all both completely by surprise. And to the two observers still sniggering in the branches, this was also completely unexpected. Both Roen and Lynch simply fell to the floor, their bodies jerking around in different directions for no apparent reason other than the control the skeleton mage had over their minds. They both were completely unaware of what was happening, and their sight and hearing remained the same, but they had no control over their bodies nor their voices. It was until Lynch had figured out that he would soon be paralysed if he didn't act now did he think maybe he would try something of his own. He could control his own will, and through that managed to begin the charge for a thrall on the undead. This was something Ogkrul had taught him long ago in the Arcane Sanctuary. Finally sensing when his body would jerk in the right direction, he aimed and unleashed the aura from his hands, and where it had left, the remains of an already vanquished skeleton had taken its place. The skeleton instantly saw where its former companion was and made haste in protecting his master. After the ward held over the two was lifted, they both stood, the sound of multiple parts of their bodies clicking heavily grated on Lynch's ears.

 

-snip delete this post i thought he want done posting-

 

It seemed to Roen that Lynch was actually enjoying the games more than he did, and proposed a new set of challenges. They went back into the confinements of the underground where in the sleeping chambers the group had set up a smaller test of accuracy.
A simple game of darts.
Lynch wielded his darts like a true master, almost every time a dead centre hit. Roen was indeed a great player, and a true test of skill was set before them both.
After that, came the second challenge of strength. Cheering could be heard from the same room where the two tried to force each other to the ground, a ring of hearty murderers surrounded them, almost all of them with a tankard of mead in their hands. Roen would have succeeded in marking the floor with Lynch's backside, should he have been more wise with his hand placements. He left himself wide open in several places frequently, and Lynch, as with everything, picked up on that quickly.

Lastly, came the most vigorous test of endurance, and the same two that moments ago were clashing bodies, wrestling one another to the cold stone floor, were having a simple drinking challenge, and again, Lynch won. Soon after that night, Lynch had come to develop a profound and strong relationship with Roen, and soon came to count him as his one and only best friend. They would help each other on contracts, no matter who it would be on. They would train together, Roen would teach Lynch on the arts of climbing and manoeuvring through the environment in the fastest way possible, as was a vital technique to have when you're a young Assassin/Mercenary travelling practically all the time and usually find yourself in sticky situations where when it comes to fight or flight, it has to be flight. He never did find out about Roen's fate after he left the Sanctuary to go back to work for Arain, he always assumed he moved to a different sanctuary. Or was that just a lie he told himself often enough for him to believe it true to hide the fact he knew he was dead? Lynch missed those games he played, and often wished he could go back for just one more day with those people. Although he rather despised their organisation, that particular group of people he spent time with were no more civil and joyful people than any ordinary person. That all changed soon after, though.

He finally picked the Boy up from the floor and made his way stealthily out into the city streets, first poking his head around corners to check for the impending patrol of guards and then even once he was sure that there were non abound he made very quick work of crossing the streets and using the dimly lit alleyways to his advantage. Once he finally made it to the entrance to the secret sewer entrance, he opened the gate and made his way through. The foul stench of rats and waste was almost intoxicating, and even through his thick soled Leather Grieves he Lynch could both feel and hear the floor sticking to his feet. The squelching mixed with the screeching of the rats rung his eardrums and he swore he could feel something in his stomach bubbling up. Nevertheless, he had been through this before and each time came out without hurling up his food out of his mouth. He tried to be optimistic about it and kept the thought of a comforting bed and a sweet smelling bath awaiting him when he got out, and though the illusion of his placebo helped him get to the other side of the wall without so much as a bit of vomit going into his throat, he felt somewhat distraught when he came out of the other side only to smell horse manure.


4

The Boy was upon the horse once again as was Lynch, now fully dressed and prepared for any ambushes that may lie along the roads. He had realised that his options at this point were low, as Arain was all the way in the Sanctum, which was on the other side of Cyrodil. He had to find an Inn, the Boy was in healthy enough looking condition to pass for just 'Fell asleep on the road.' He remembered the old map he kept rolled up in one of the horse's many compartments. He pulled it out and located himself, then began to circle his finger around, trying to see if there was any notable Inn's he might be able to stay in. The map was a very old edition, in fact it was a whole ten years out of date, and many new Inns had been established across Cryodil at this time. He wasn't too far from Pell's Gate, and could probably be there by the night's end. His horse set off at the kick of his heels and already Lynch started to feel ill. A stirring in his stomach had been bothering him from ever since he had struck down the Mythic Dawn Agents, and the rockiness of the Horse was only making it worse. Not to mention the stench of the sewers as he was making his way out of Bravil.

Time passed quickly and he found himself approaching The Sleeping Mare Inn. He dismounted his horse, went to pick up the Boy and found him surprisingly a lot heavier, this was a good sign of him recovering. It had been around Eight Hours since he had found the Boy, so he figured the time to be 2 in the morning. Surely a keeper would be inside, he thought to himself as he entered. Luckily, the Innkeeper
was indeed wide awake and pouring herself some mead. She jumped to his presence, instantly shoving the bottle away, pulling Lynch a worried look. Lynch shook his head, smiling, and said.
'Please, don't let me disturb anything; I was simply coming in to order me and my friend a room for the night. We won't be a disturbance, I can promise you.' She reluctantly pulled the bottle back out from the counter and then reached for a key in the pocket of her apron. She placed it on the counter, then went back to her drinking.
'Just pay me in the morning, should I be awake.' She said, cupping her face into her hands. Lynch was bewildered by the behaviour of the woman, and instead stood there for a moment. She pulled him a killing look and shook her head.
'I'm Nord, I get thirsty. Nothing to be ashamed of. Now get your key and please, go upstairs.' She said as she picked up the tankard of mead on the counter and took a long swig from it. Lynch approached the counter, took the key and proceeded up to his room. The Inn seemed quiet and Lynch was sure he and the Boy were the only customers she currently had. Probably the reason for the late night drink, he wondered. He entered the room, finding it to have two beds. He gently lay the Boy down and covered him in a duvet, as he hadn't been wearing anything very thick and the night was very chilly. Lynch undid the straps for his Leather Armour and placed it down beside the bed, then went to take off his tunic. After that, he kicked off his boots and a clicking noise was heard as he almost threw himself onto his bed. The moonlight shone clearly through the window and onto Lynch's face. As he looked outside he was astounded by the magnificent view of the forest he had. The way it had stripped his breath from his lungs would have been poetic had he any experience as a bard. He finally was resting, and he found that his eyes closed a lot quicker and easier than what they once did in Luciana's home.

The night rolled into the morning quickly, and Lynch arose to see the Boy still asleep. A relief for him, if the Boy had awoken sooner he may have been attacked in his sleep or the Boy may have tried to escape. Then Lynch rethought about what he had just said to himself in his head. 'Escape.' He had never thought about it like that. Was he actually kidnapping or was he just escorting an unconscious child to a mysterious place? He had usually in all of his other prior jobs at least gave the people he was taking some insight as to where they were going and why they needed to go there. Sometimes there were struggles, but the majority of jobs he did were successful journeys and he had even come to like and learn a few things from some of them. He could feel time pass very slowly as he waited for the Boy to wake up. Surely he would be ready to regain consciousness by now, after a good 14 Hour sleep he had gotten more than he probably needed. Lynch was just about to physically shake the Boy in an attempt to wake him, but before he did he could hear the Boy take a deep waking breath. The Boy exasperated as he raised his head and rubbed his eyes. Lynch had prepared himself for this, and had placed his Dagger under his leg, concealed but ready to be picked up should the Boy decide to lash out at him. But the reaction he got was not what he had expected. The Boy glanced around, and actually looked delighted to see Lynch there. He lowered his eyebrows in confusion.
'Are you awake, boy?'
'Yes, Sir.' He replied in a fatigued tone.
'Good, because I haven't, it's been a very rough time getting you here. Do you remember anything before you awoke?' Lynch asked, the seriousness of his voice not affecting the little smile on the Boy's face.
'Yes, I remember a blade being run through my chest.' The Boy said, the smile on his face widening.
'Why are you smiling?' Lynch asked, squinting his eyes.
'I know you. You're the one from my dreams. You saved me, didn't you?' He replied, now stretching his arms into the air. Lynch eased up a little at this, and the expression on his face lightened.
'Yes, I did. Twice...' Lynch said, pausing and looking away from the Boy.
'I know what is to come.' The Boy said, lowering his arms and looking directly at Lynch. Lynch was completely shocked, so not only had the Boy known he was coming, but he also knew where he was taking him. It was at that point Lynch was sure he had the right person.
'I don't even know what Arain is to do with you when we get to the Sanctum, but I'll get you there.' Lynch said, now sounding like he expected him to know who or what Arain was. But the Boy just nodded and his smile remained on his face. Lynch nodded and stood, still pondering on how the Boy could have possibly known any of this. At least he knew Arain was right all along, and though he tried to find comfort in this fact, all it did was worry him. If the prophecies about this child were true, then surely something was abounding.

 

They set off an hour or so later. Their destination was the City of Bruma, North of the Imperial City. His main goal now was to avoid as many encounters as possible, he knew it would be hard and there would be inevitably the odd bandit along the road. But he just hoped it wasn't today, just after he had had a decent night's rest. The hours dragged along, and not much had happened at all. They came to a halt by a riverbed running down alongside the road. It would have been a great opportunity for a bath, but he will have plenty of time for one of those after he reached the Sanctuary. The longer he waited, the more satisfied he felt when he finally got one. Instead, he unslung a small leather water flask and proceeded to run it across the surface, filling it up quickly. He took a few long gulps and refilled it, all the meanwhile the Boy was plunging his straight down in the water, his long hair falling in along with it. He finally whipped his head back out from the water, his hair now soaked and the colour came flushing back into his cheeks. Lynch was relieved to see him looking replenished, and he thought to himself about how it would have taken him a week at most to recover so quickly from such a deep injury. This Boy was surely something special, he could see it in the sparks that ignited in his eyes whenever he saw something new around every new bend of the road, and he could feel it in the way he took those sights in that he was with someone who felt belonging to the world.

A day of travelling and very little communication had passed and the night had fallen upon them. They set up camp in the dead centre of the South Western Forest. The way the night lit up an entirely new world was astounding to the Boy, he had never had the opportunity to listen to the way the wolves in the far distance howled, how it would echo through the forests and bounce through the trees until it eventually died out into the night, only to be followed my more sounds and sights. It all felt so new to be finally experiencing the things he had only observed from a balcony up until now. Lynch chuckled at how innocent the Boy looked and he chuckled along to, though the crackling of the campfire soon became the only sound to be heard, other than the horse moving around trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Lynch unrolled two bedrolls that he kept attached to either side of his horse and the two slept safely through a relatively quiet night. However it was the morning that was to be feared.

Upon awakening, Lynch could already hear a roaming party off through the trees. A party of what was the question, and he was about to find out. He went over to his horse and from it pulled off a long wooden bow and a quiver full of iron arrows, both of which he slung over his shoulders. The Boy was still sound asleep, which in a way seemed like a good thing to Lynch, as even though the Boy had shown signs of a remarkably fast recovery, there was still no such thing as being too careful. He set off as lightly footed as possible, and his movements remained ever so silent and graceful. If there was a group of bandits, they would never know what hit them. He had his Daggers at the ready by his sides, if needed. Which depending on the size of the group, they probably would be. They felt light at his hip, something he had never really felt before, he had always thought of his equipment to be heavy, and therefore refrained from using anything bigger than a short sword and maybe a suit of chainmail. He was no good with defending with his left arm, as he felt much more efficient with using both to attack. After all, what would be the point in defending a blow if you don't give your enemy enough time to make one in the first place? It was a risky tactic, but one that had proven to serve him very well.

Finally getting within earshot of the company, he could get a rough idea of where they were and how many of them were to be dealt with. Five different voices could be heard from the East, from their muffled conversations Lynch could pick up on the odd few words related to hunting. Words such as 'Meat' and 'Hunger' were mentioned, of that he was sure. He followed them at a distance, as he could now visually see them. They all appeared to be Elves of some sort, not Bosmer but possibly Altmer. They all wore long black robes, and none of them appeared to have any sort of weaponry on them. Not in hand nor at sheath. This was probably the only thing that stopped him from attacking them. Yet, just as Lynch was about to cut his losses and make his way back to the Boy, their conversation suddenly became a lot clearer to him.
'The Boy and the Bosmer, which of them are we to keep alive?' To which one of them replied
'Andera is already on his way to them, need not worry. He took his entire party. I can smell fresh blood being spilt from here.' He chuckled menacingly.
Oh no, Vampires.
Lynch's instincts went ahead of his mind and without thinking he drew an arrow and sent it into the back of the closest of the bunch. The others reacted almost immediately, two of them closing in on Lynch at demonically fast speeds. These were not ordinary vampires; he expected them to be much weaker if they were to be walking under the sun. For them to come at him at the level of speed they did was very worrying. His reactions were quick and sharp, as were the blades he now wielded in both hands. He sliced open the first of the two charging at him, at the same time dodging a strike from a small blade hidden underneath the sleeve of the robe. He didn't have much time to catch a breather, though, as the other two were already coming in the same formation, and they were obviously going to anticipate the same counter. He had to improvise on his feet, and he did so with great pace. The daggers that he wielded heated in his hands as he charged a flame in his palms. He remembered now what critical weakness a vampire would have to fire, and though he didn't have the skill to throw any bolts, the flames that now surrounded his hands were enough to keep the oncoming fiends at bay. As he waved them around, he realised he had made himself a little bit of time, or at most enough time to devise a strategy. The three remaining vampires began to circle him, two of them closed in at different directions whilst the other distanced himself slightly, conjuring a red aura in his hands, the same evil grin on his face Lynch pulled when he struck down the first of two Mythic Dawn Agents. The two vampires that were closest to Lynch attacked from both his left and right side, forcing him to forsake his guard over his chest. This opened him right up to the third vampire who had now charged the spell and sent it forward to him. It hit Lynch like ten swords through the chest, and the feeling of his life force being sucked out of his chest was one of the most horrific experiences he'd ever been through. He was completely helpless, and he knew his time was short. His vision gradually began to fade, but all the while he kept a stone solid stare at the vampire who stood before him, laughing in his face.

 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, came his salvation. An iron crossbow bolt had rapidly turned the Vampire mage's face from a cheery expression to a shocked one as it ripped through his chest. The other two vampires had the same reaction and as they quickly drew away from Lynch, desperately looked around for the source of the bolt. But they couldn't see anyone or anything that might have shot it, and they never managed to see the thing that hit them before it did. Two more bolts hit them through the chest in separate succession. Lynch, unsure of whether he was next, instead lay down his daggers that were now sizzling and accepted he had nothing to help him at this point, and then came possibly one of the biggest surprises of his life. A hand was placed on his shoulder and Lynch turned his head to see who it was.

Moi Khaj was one of the most experienced and efficient Speakers that the Dark Brotherhood had on their side, and for a Khajiit with up until the 'accidental' manslaughter of one of his fellow caravan members, had no real game for murdering. That was of course until Lucien Lachance awoke him one night following his expulsion from his caravan group, proposing he join a family that count murdering people who deserve death a past time. Lynch would have called him a stone hearted bastard underneath all of that fur, but after a day or so working alongside him, Lynch couldn't have been more wrong. There was really nothing truly awful about why Moi does what he does, he does it because it pays well and he has no other real talents. He always made sure he only takes the contracts that involve taking the lives of murderers and thieves, and Lynch found that the most respectable trait about a member of The Brotherhood. They kill who they must, not who they please.
'It's a good thing I was on my way back from Pell's Gate, eh Brother?' Lynch chuckled as he placed his hand atop Moi's in thanks. Moi helped him onto his feet, knowing what had just happened.
'Easy now, Lynch. Vampiric Drain is not something you can just heal off.'
'The Boy... Get to the Boy...' Lynch started to stumble around in dizziness as he tried to regain his balance. Moi knew who he was talking about, and smiled.
'Aha, don't you worry your big Elvish head about him, my friend.' Said Moi, as he put his arm around Lynch for support. They both set off slowly back to the campsite, only to find the Boy stood in the middle of a circle of bodies. All of them burnt to a crisp and smouldering. The Boy was shaking, holding the same shaped dagger as the Vampires had wielded. Trembling, almost, and if not for Lynch arriving he would have probably collapsed. Moi burst out laughing at the sight.
'This is too perfect! A little Boy taking out an entire pack on his own and the great Lynch being almost handicapped by a weakling little mage!' By laughing, he was almost literally in tears and on the floor rolling around. Lynch was now able to walk stably and approached the Boy slowly.
'Are you alright?' He asked, pulling his famous look of confusion.
'I'm...' The Boy paused, looking at the dagger he held in his hand. 'I'm alive.' He finally finished, smiling at himself. A corner of Lynch's lips raised in a smile. There was no doubt about it, whoever this Boy was, no one could have taken 5 Vampires alone on their first fight but him. As much as this reassured him he would definitely have some backup along the road, he felt like he was now endangering the Boy's life more now than ever.
Moi quickly realised the seriousness in his face and quite quickly stopped laughing.
'This Boy is deft on his feet, no matter how small he may be. I watched from the trees, and then I noticed your horse.' Lynch's horse was a majestic white horse that Lynch found deep in the heart of the mountains. He broke it on his own, with great difficulty. 'I remember my first pack, too.' He smirked at Lynch, reminiscing the day he slaughtered the infestation of Vampires in Crimson Cavern as part of the initiation into the Brotherhood. Moi looked at Lynch, his face one more serious.
'Were you headed to The Library Arcanum, Lynch?'
Lynch nodded.
'Yes, we were planning on going along the Gold Road and North to Bruma.' Lynch replied, he sounded concerned, why did Moi need to know that?
'The roads are not safe, Moi knows a place to stay. Say you come, I'll get you a portal to there. Of course, it won't be cheap. Our mage is good at what he does, so he won't do it for free.'
This was a golden opportunity to save as much time as possible and he didn't think twice before accepting. Lynch remembered the pouches of gold he kept on his horse from Luciana, as he thought about how he would cover the costs.
This is why it was good to be prepared.

The sanctuary was a decrepit place on the outside. Located on the island on the border of the Green and Gold road, the Black Door was hidden behind some bushes and rocks. As they approached it, a whispering voice was heard coming from the door. Though both Moi and Lynch knew there was no one behind it. The Boy stuck close to Lynch, and on the outside he seemed almost fearless, yet the hairs on the back of his neck were standing tall and his heart thudded against his ribs.
'What is the colour of death?' The Door prompted them.
'Darkness, my Brother.' Moi said in a monotonous voice. The amount of times he had said that exact same phrase was uncountable. Finally, the Door slid open, the same voice biding them welcome home. They walked inside, a descending set of stairs before them led into darkness and the Boy hesitated as he followed. Lynch noticed his nervousness, and turned to him, pulling him a reassuring look. This place had changed a lot since Lynch's last visit some years back, partially due to the Crisis, he would have guessed.

They entered through to the cavern of a main chamber, where upon arrival all heads in the hall turned to face them. An Argonian stood to speak in outrage.
'You dare bring strangers into our home, are you mad?!' She spoke with a tone so viscous and the way her voice sounded as scaly as her skin gave Lynch a harrowing chill. Moi remained virtually unaffected by her words and spoke out back to her.
'Do you not know who I, or the people I bring with me, am? I am Listener Moi Khaj and this is Lynch Strike, a very trusted member of our order. The Boy he brings with him is not of your concern. If you have any quarrels, speak now. Or keep your reptilian mouth closed, before I sew it shut.' The murmurs that followed his reply now fell to complete silence. Lynch had never seen him like this before, nor had he ever seen the Sanctuary in such ill conditions. Had he not known about the vampire attacks that had let to some... complications on their part., Lynch would have been absolutely clueless as to why they were in this position. Moi had told him about how they were betrayed by one of their own, a long serving member of the Brotherhood, Erathor. Erathor was an Altmer Vampire and with the benefit of immortality to age, had the honour of saying he was murdering on the behalf of the Dark Brothehood for two hundred years. He had strived ever so lovingly to achieve the position of Speaker, but his vampirism became more of a setback for him than a benefit. It meant he couldn't assume a fulfilling roll in the daytime. Oh how hard he tried, but for years he only managed to sustain the rank of Assassin. When Moi was gifted with the position after the Speaker he mainly worked for was murdered violently in his sleep by an unknown assailant while out travelling to Kvatch for a target, Erathor lost his mind and thrashed out against his friends and fellow murderers. He became a liability; a story drawing to its near end, and when he was approached, not attacked, but approached by two meaningful Apprentices, he killed them and ran for his life, taking refuge a month later with a group of rogue Crowhaven vampires. It was only just two weeks ago they had a more recent attack, they managed to get through the door and slaughter a few initiates, and they barely managed to make it out alive before they were torn to pieces.

 

Yes, Lynch remembered that story very well, and made a note in his head to ask about it later on, but the first matter was at hand and that was getting this portal ready. The Boy and Lynch followed Moi silently through the corridors, their footsteps echoed off of the walls as they stepped almost in unison. They reached the end of the hallway, where Moi pulled down his long black hood and knocked on the door twice. The door opened with no one on the other side to have done it themselves, and already Lynch assumed he was about to meet the person that was to create the portal. It was a Redguard.

This came as a surprise to Lynch, he had a disposition toward Redguards as did Moi, they each found their culture above all bizarre and their style of combat unique if anything but again awkwardly made. Redguards themselves had a tendency to hate all magic, and usually came to be skilled warriors deft with the Redguard Sword Techniques, which were deadly if wielded by the right hands. The Redguard stood taller than Lynch, and wore traditional Brotherhood Robes. Nodding in a greeting, he introduced himself as Tai, and said that he knew immediately what they were coming to him for, and that he couldn't help. Lynch felt a mixture of being confused and crestfallen, all this time wasted, and there wasn't anything he could do to help it. Or could he?
Moi raised the question of why.
'And why is that?' He said, raising his furry eyebrow.
'We haven't been able to establish any transportation to any of our own sanctuaries, let alone the cities. It's Erathor and his group, they've managed to set barriers around the island.'
'Then let me ask you something, Tai. Why haven't you fixed this problem, if you're fully aware of it?' Moi now looked intimidating, and stepped closer to him, forcing Tai to inch backwards in fear.
'That would probably because I don't know where they are, Speaker. I sent Mayes out a day ago, and she hasn't came back yet.' Now it was Moi's turn to feel anxious. Mayes would have surely found them by now, for her to not be back must mean she's either been killed, captured or she's still fighting through them. Most likely it was the first way. Moi turned to Lynch and the Boy, glared at them for a moment and then strode past them in frustration. Lynch followed him, but urged the Boy to remain where he was. Following him down the corridor into the main chamber, Lynch spun on his heels to face Lynch after he put a hand on Moi's shoulder.
'Let me find her.' He said.
'No, not at all. There's nothing to find, Mayes was a Lycanthrope, a Werewolf. She and Erathor always had heated arguments, and he was always one to hold grudges, she'll be dead.'
'And what if she isn't, Moi? She could still be alive.'
'I'll tell you what, Lynch, you go and you bring me back her body so I may burn it for failure. After that I'll have Tai bring down the barriers and send you on your way.' He said this in a tone so low and dangerously angry but yet still so calm, keeping that mysterious veil of uncertainty around him.

Lynch was taken aback but felt as if he'd just been given an order, and went along back to Tai's abode and asked him
'Where abouts was she looking? Mayes, I mean.'
'She said she thought she could smell a rotting smell from the east. Please, be careful if you're going out there. This isn't the same place it once was.' Lynch nodded and then shifted his eyes to the Boy who was standing there wondering where he was to go. He decided a while ago if he was to out it would be alone, but he then remembered the spark in his eye whenever he saw something knew, and remembered how much he enjoyed seeing it. But his decision remained the same, and he told the Boy to stay where he was after asking Tai if he minded taking care of the Boy for a while.

He left and through the Black Door he went, sensing a shift in the air the moment he stepped outside. A strong wind blew his dreads back, his bells ringing again. Sometimes that simple sound would calm him, but now all it did was make him feel like his only one true defence was being taken away from him; the silence. He moved off quickly, gradually picking up pace with each step, his daggers closer now to him than he had ever felt them be, and this too would have been a comforting thing if he didn't think he wouldn't be able to reach for them in time for an attack. He decided to take to the trees for a wider viewpoint, and indeed he got one. He could see for at least a mile around, and the life that surrounded the forest was truly awe inspiring. Off in the distance, not too far from him on the ground he could see a part of an entrance to a cave, the rest being covered completely with foliage.

He leapt from branch to branch until he reached the ground and remembering where he saw the cave, sprinted through the forest. If he was slow, he was vulnerable.

He came to the door and his movements changed from quick to slow, he crouched into a stealthy position and proceeded to uncover the entry from the bushed. He pulled out one of his daggers and cut slowly, pulling them all back aside the wooden plank for a door that was attached with poorly made hinges that Lynch probably could have ripped off if he applied any additional pressure. The door swung open with ease and he cautiously stepped inside, only to lose his footing to a downward slope and his quiet approach was replaced with a crashing intrusion into a dark hallway at the bottom of a tunnel slide. He tumbled out and with a roll and came out of it with a loud thud. Standing as fast as he could to face the black hole before him, he tempted fate by shouting out in agony. He had twisted his ankle, and whatever would come at him would have to be weak for him to be able to counter it in this position. His cries of pain died out in an echo and the silence one again fell upon him as he reached for the healing tome he kept with him, only to find it wasn't there. Oh no, he thought. He must have left it with his horse. He resorted to using a minor healing spell he was taught as a child to get rid of small bruises he gained from when he fell over. The spell was measly and merely helped numb the pain lightly, allowing him to walk but with a very slight limp. With every small step he felt like he wanted to cry out in pain, but he kept it all back.

For a while he was just stumbling into walls, but then he turned a corner, and another corner, and after a while of aimlessly walking through the dark in agony he could he the faint voices of the people he was looking for. Vampires, discussing something of which he couldn't make out nor did he care about. He moved further along until he saw light around a final corner. He shifted himself around it and came out onto a balcony above not just a cavern but a grand hall, tapestry paintings of amazing detail decorated the walls and the two voices that he could hear a while away were clearly in earshot.
The first one was a tall and lanky Dark Elf, or a Bosmer. The second was an Argonian, and they both seemed to be discussing something about Alchemy.
'Ah, but if we mix them carefully, wouldn't they-'
'Not a chance, they would set alight the second you mix them. Lycanthrope and Vampires do not mix. It is not how nature intended. If Hybrids would exist, surely R-' The Argonian interrupted him.
'Let me finish. If you mix the blood types yet keep a small barrier of energy around the pool, the combustion phase would be at least quelled.'
'Yes, and what would you plan to do when the barrier wears off?'
'Sanguinis Vampiris is not something that is easily cured, nor is Lycanthropianism, or however you say it.' The Bosmer replied, taking a short swig of mead. 'They would persist to clash until they mix.'

Lynch actually found himself engaged in thought at their conversation, maybe Mayes was alive, and they were using her for experimental purposes. If so, he had no time to lose. He climbed the balcony and slowly shimmied along it, outstretching his arm to find a crevice in the surface of the rock wall. After finding a good grip, he began a slow and silent descent, all the while keeping tabs on the argument between the two. But as he went down, he found himself becoming more and more exposed to the light, and the shadows cast over him by the balcony were coming to an end. Taking his next placements carefully, he applied more and more pressure onto his ankle, and he eventually grunted ever so quietly.

Despite Lynch's best efforts to keep silent, that minor sound of pain ceased to escape the hearing range of Vampiric Ears. They each looked up to see Lynch clinging to the wall still high enough up to further damage his ankle if he jumped. They both jumped to their feet, grabbing whatever item that was closest to them and hurled them at him. Lynch was constantly bombarded with empty tankards, bottles and books and eventually he fell backwards. Trying his best to rotate in mid air to prevent death, he just managed to land onto a wooden table sideways, breaking the table completely. The two Vampires didn't hesitate to move forward, and it took Lynch almost every ounce of his remaining strength to get to his feet in time for the Vampires to be in striking distance. He gazed into their crimson coloured eyes as they inched forward to him, unarmed, but Lynch knew from experience that Vampires quite often didn't require weapons, their blood magic and extreme attack speed were usually all that they needed. Lynch kept his guard up, regardless of his ankle, he would fight them to the best of his ability. It was fight or die, the flight option had been taken away from him now.

 

I wouldn't read that much even if I had life in prison.167

 

But before the Vampires even had the opportunity to lunge at Lynch, they were both startled at the sound of screams coming from behind the door on the far wall behind them. The shrieks of terror became all too loud and clear when the door burst open and several other Vampires fled from a 7ft tall Werewolf that was now slowly breaking through the doorframe and into the hall. The Argonian and Dark Elf both turned their minds to the oncoming danger, and whether or not the Werewolf was Mayes or just another test experiment, and whether or not it would attack him next, Lynch used this to his advantage and with both daggers thrust the blades through their hearts. They both fell without struggle and Lynch now knelt before the Werewolf that was slaughtering its way through a group of Vampires. He couldn't even feel the pain in his ankle or his side anymore, all he felt was disorientation. His vision was blurry and he could only just make out the extremely tall figure that stood looking down on him, its arms by its sides and its breathing rate slow and calm.
That was the last thing Lynch saw before the darkness consumed his vision and he fell unconscious.

Lynch woke up facing a wooden ceiling, his head rest against a pillow and only his underwear to cover his torso and pelvis. He had bandages around his ribs and biceps, but he felt fine. He turned his head to see an empty red vial next to his daggers and healing tome. So he did have it on him. Realising that the vial was a health potion, he assumed he'd be perfectly fine with walking. He raised himself from the bed and found just that. The pain in his ankles was gone completely, and he couldn't imagine having it any time soon. The question still remained of where he was, though. He couldn't possibly have been back at the sanctuary, and he was pretty certain he was no longer in the Vampire's cave. He noticed clothes at the end of the bed, though they weren't his. They were folded in a neat pile, and after assuming they were his to wear, he dressed himself in a belted tunic and a fine leather set of pants. He surprisingly didn't feel the need to carry his daggers with him, and assumed he was in friendly company. Coming nervously out of the doorway into a corridor, Lynch refrained from letting himself complete vulnerability. Healed up or not, he was still somewhere he didn't recognise, and the people that offered him such aid mightn't have been who he thought them to be.

There was always the odd chance he was there under false pretence, and there was also the very, very odd chance he was dreaming. And with the past few days Lynch had been through, the last thing he needed was a haunting nightmare to plague his mind. He could smell something cooking, something good at that. Was it Venison, he wondered? He turned a corner and went through a wooden door into a dining room where in the far right corner was a tall Redguard man with dark hair stood above stove and cooking spit. He turned as he heard Lynch come in.
It was Roen.
'Ah, Lynch! You're finally awake! Care to join me?' Words could not describe Lynch's mixture of happiness and shock. He didn't know how to react, he simply stood staring, the smile on his face stretching further and further. He ran across the room and gave Roen a warm and joyous hug.
'Roen! My old friend, where- How- When did you-' Lynch's words got stuck in his throat from his happiness. He could physically feel Roen's presence and his great big beard stroke across his cheek and he returned the hug.
'Hahaha, oh Lynch, I didn't save you. I'm dead.' Said Roen, the smile on his face never fading, but the same could not be said for Lynch. His mouth dropped, what was he hearing? Was he dead?
'Then who did?' Lynch said, his all but too familiar expression of confusion coming alive once again. This, along with Lynch's many other habits, was something Roen had gotten used to.
'Believe it or not, the same person you were sent to kill. Ah, I do remember that skinny little rat that was Erathor. Tell me, is he still working on that famous hypothesis for Lycanthropis Sanguinis?' He replied, looking back to his cooking pot.
'You mean Hybrids?' Lynch asked again, the fact in mind that he had just been saved by a 7 Foot Tall Werewolf that supposedly wasn't Mayes.
'Yes, Hybrids. He worked with a dear old friend of mine, Mayes. Another person you were after, I believe. For a long time they did research, but I have yet to check back up on their progress. It's been a long time since I ever really looked down upon anyone, I've been paying more attention to that Boy of yours.' His face changed from one of confusion to interest.
'Oh really, and what have you concluded?' Once more with the questions.?
'That he will come to play a part in your life that you wouldn't believe.' It was only now that Roen's face took on a different shape. He lifted the wooden ladle from the pot and tapped it on its edge a few times before setting it down and picking the pot up.
'Isn't that hot?' Lynch asked.
'Not at all, I'm already dead, Lynch. I don't feel pain.'
'So why was I given a healing potion? Why am I even here, Roen?' Roen set the pot onto the table before sighing and pulling Lynch a serious look. Obviously the serious conversation couldn't wait until after they caught up. Or at least, until Lynch filled in the blanks from where Roen 'observed' other people.
'Just so you know, this isn't the Void. That is a much different plane of the dead than this. I never truly served Sithis, I served the Daedric Princess Azura. And thus I came here to her plane of Oblivion when I died. You see, Lynch, I never set out to become a murderer. I set out to seek justice on those that deserved it. But when I became a member of the Imperial Legion, that was when my mindset changed greatly. Their constant obsession with money clouded their judgement, they taxed the poor, invaded homes and unlawfully commited more crimes than they stopped.'
'And what's your point? You still haven't told me why I'm here.' Lynch said, taking a seat at the foot of the table.
'I'm getting to it. Anyways, when I left and sought answers from Azura with regards to the way I was living my life, she told me to go to the Dark Brotherhood. I can still remember her voice. So pure and sweet. But yes, when I committed the murder of three Imperial Guards who were stealing from a house on the Waterfront, I was invited into the Brotherhood. That was when I met you, and I instantly knew my fate was sealed.'
'So you knew who I was to become.' Lynch said as Roen slid over a bowl of delightfully warm stew. He took chunks out of it as Roen spoke.
'No, Lynch, not who you were to be but who you were then and still are now.'
'And what would that be?'
'You'll have to find that one out for yourself.'
'Alright fine, but again, why am I here?'
'You are here because Azura plucked you from the Dreamsleeve and sent you to me. You will soon wake up in the Brotherhood Sanctuary. Now you need to listen to me very carefully. How's the Stew?'
'Roen, please.'
'Alright, alright. Once you get out of here you need to get back to Arain as fast as you can. As of now she is being told the location of an artefact. This artefact was left here by Tiber Septim in the knowledge of what is to come. The end times are among us, Lynch. That Boy will become more to you than what you think. Also, that Moi. The speaker, I believe. He is not to be trusted either. I have reason to believe he murdered his own Speaker for the position. Although Sithis would have known about it, I also have reason to think Sithis allowed it.'
'Hold up, now what is this artefact?' Lynch was completely disinterested in what he had to say about Moi.
'It's the one thing that will keep this circle of Tamriel from spilling into the next.'
'What exactly is the next plane? Why does a Daedric Prince even care? It wasn't just last year that Mehrunes Dagon tried to rip open portals from Oblivion.''
'Because, Lynch. This is the Daedra's worst nightmare. This IS their nightmare.' Now Lynch was genuinely lost.
'Daedric Princes having nightmares. I'm protecting the saviour of the world. Wow.' He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Roen chuckled under his breath.
'No, Lynch. You're not protecting the saviour. You are the saviour.'
Lynch returned to leaning over his steaming bowl of stew staring Roen in the eye.
'What exactly do you mean by that, then? What does the boy have to do with any of this?'
'Well Lynch. Yo-' Roen's words were cut short with a sudden blackness. Silence, void, nothingness. Just black. Then he could feel his eyes slowly shift open. Roen was right, he did wake up in the Sanctuary. And he was pretty sure whatever Roen gave him was good, because he felt healed. He got up from the bed with ease, and could hear a ramble of voices. He could already tell what it would be about. Erathor's presence in the Sanctuary will have easily caused a situation to break out. He hurried, coming out into the main hall to see not just an argument but an execution. Moi stood atop a platform whilst two conjured Minotaur stood behind Erathor and Mayes. Moi held out a long Ebony blade to Mayes' neck as she knelt, hands tied behind her back.

 

'Traitors to the Brotherhood. Breakers of the Five Tenents!' Moi shouted to the crowd of murderers that stood before him.
'And which of those did we breach, Moi?' Erathor said, tilting his head up to him.
'You left without permission, you disobeyed my orders and you murdered our allies?'
'Allies? They stole my research and tried to use us for experiments. They blocked our magic from going anywhere. You sent our friend over there to his death by coming to us and you knew it' Erathor nodded his head to Lynch and every head in the room turned to him. Lynch felt disgusted by this. He had to speak up.
'Without your traitors, I wouldn't be alive. I was pinned down by Vampires, my condition was dire and I was unable to fight. Show some gratitude to them, Moi.' Lynch looked Moi directly in the eye from across the hall, straight into his black and yellow cat like eyes.
'And how can you explain Mayes' behaviour, going out looking for Erathor with the only intent of killing him. Did I order it? No, Moi did not.'
'I went looking for my friend!' Mayes objected, her sweet voice seemed calming even through her anger.
'Enough! You disobeyed and for that you must pay.' Moi shouted back at her, raising his blade.
'Wait.' Lynch's voice boomed. He was confident enough to know Moi would listen to his reason.
'I know enough to guess that the cave I found was not the source of the magical barrier. Let me- us. Find it, and I'll take them as my companions back to Arain.'
'Not at all. They broke the Tenants and they must die.'
'Then why not leave it to the wrath of Sithis? Surely this is their first mistake. If they have broken it like you say they have, let the ancestral ghost do its purpose.' Moi had realised defeat, and he also knew Lynch was fully aware of what he was trying to do. But even in spite of this, his determination to rid the Sanctuary of supernatural beings overcame his reasoning.
'My word is law, and I say they die.' Lynch was about to argue to the point, but before he even got a chance to open his mouth, all eyes turned to Mayes and Erathor at the front, both of them grunting violently as their bodies grew and became deformed. They were transforming into Werewolves. Their bindings were torn easily and Moi was backing off quickly in terror. They both let out a bloodletting roar, striking fear into the hearts of many around the room. Lynch reached for his weapons, but did not take them out. He waited for what them to say something, and that they did. In a fearsome tone, they boomed.
'We will serve. And we will kill. For the death Father.' The sanctuary fell to a silence.
'Hybrids, eh..' Lynch said to himself under his breath. Moi didn't object as they stepped down from the platform. Their forms reverted and in a matter of seconds, two half naked part vampire part werewolves were bowing before Lynch.
The Boy came out a while later, Tai trailing behind him.
'You'd do best to keep yourself from slaughtering our brethren, Moi.' Tai said, folding his arms and standing calmly.
'You dare issue a Speaker of the Black Hand an order, boy?!' Moi scrambled to his feet, glaring at the Redguard.
'Save your threats, Moi. Let me speak.' Moi awaited Tai to continue, as Tai walked through the crowd to meet Lynch, the Boy now following him. He smirked an arrogant smirk at Lynch and turned to the rest of the Sanctuary. 'Your supposed Traitors have managed to break down the barriers that held our Magical power in place. By slaughtering everyone inside of that cave, they have brought us the ability to channel and draw Magic to places untold. To some of you, this may mean as little as the death of these Vampires, but to those who understand the importance of this, especially Moi. We should be grateful that the Night Mother and indeed, Sithis himself, has sent this man to us.' He turned to Lynch once more, watching parts of the crowd roll their eyes and disperse.
'And the gateway?' Lynch asked.
'We're opening it for you now. You'll be into the Library Arcanum within no time.'Need not worry about that, anyways. I'd like to extend my personal thanks to you for overshadowing Moi's judgement. You won't regret it.' As Moi came to a close he kept that sly smile, as if there was something he was hiding. But then again, Lynch felt that about most people he met those days.
By now Moi was simply watching and the crowd was scattering back to do their usual business.
'Your horse will follow, I promise you. We will send one of our initiates out to your location, he'll find you in a few days.' Said Tai as he led them through the door to the Alchemy room where upon arriving Lynch was almost blinded by the flash of the portal activating.

6




They came out of the portal one by one, Lynch, the Boy, Mayes and Erathor. Lynch was sure he had made the right decision by allowing himself to acquire new companions, as not only did he potentially save two lives, but he may as well have just improved his chances of getting through this alive. Even if Mayes and Erathor did manage to take out Moi, who had dealt with Werewolves before, the rest of the brotherhood are equally as deadly as them, and they would have been murdered quicker than they could imagine.

The Arcane Sanctuary was beautiful. More beautiful than Lynch had remembered, but he had always thought that. Every time he came back he saw something new and it fit so perfectly. This Sanctuary wasn't a decrepit cave drowned in darkness, it was a bright, vibrant and expansive cavern full of glory. Not underground, but instead hidden away on the inside of a mountain. The walls were decorated with bookshelves all containing magical tomes, history books, diaries, stories, anything ranging from Fiction to Non. Walking through felt so serene, and all that could be heard was the sound of birds chirping on the tree planted next to the arcane pool. There was grass underneath their feet, rather than rock. Flowers grew all around, even some on the walls right next to the moss that hung low. This one room made Lynch feel alive, and the rest of his party felt equally mesmerised by the sights.

 

Walking through the pathways into the epic array of colours and life that was the main hall for a moment frightened Lynch. What was to become of all this beauty when whatever was said to happen, happens? Will the structure of the mountain provide safety for an otherwise vulnerable bit of paradise, or will it all crumble like the rest of the untouched glorious landscapes? This only further increased his determination to follow Arain's orders as she gave them, exact and precise. She was by now an old woman, her hair was still long and soft, but greying. In her time she was a once extremely powerful hero wielding both frost and flame, she was legendary, her name written to be the 'Queen of Frost' by many. This was the time of the Hero's Guild, a once mighty group of the most gifted sons and daughters Tamriel had to offer. For centuries the Hero's guild had trained young and talented warriors, scholars and craftsmen from adolescence to adulthood. And they all looked up to Arain and her league of companions, one of which was the 5th Champion of Cyrodil. She slew many a bandit as much as she did Dremora, and though she never once lost her potency in the arts of destruction magic, she tended to be more docile in her old age. She found Lynch as a child, wandering the streets of the Imperial City, a lost and wandering homeless child on the waterfront. She raised him to be one of her own, all the while seeing that glimpse of the hero inside of him come out a little more with each new day. Just as Lynch did with the Boy. The Hero's Guild relocated after a long while, to where is unknown to both Arain and Lynch. But he is motivated to make a visit there one day, see if maybe some of the old heroes that taught him some of his earliest tricks are still alive and kicking. But that was a story to be told after this one ended.

Arain came out of the darkness of the shadow cast by the broken stone arch with arms wide open to Lynch and a happy smile across her face. Lynch was equally as glad to see her and held her tight like a son would a mother. While the others dawdled around still trying to comprehend the massive amount of ageing glory around them, he sat with her and discussed the journey and who his new friends were. He explained they were part vampires and not to be alarmed, then also asked about the artefact. Arain's face twisted into a sorrowful look as she leaned in close to whisper something into his ear.

It had been a while since Lynch ever thought about his family, the one outside of the Sanctuary. The Library Arcanum had always provided all the family he had ever needed; Arain. But what of the Mother and Father that abandoned him, condoning him to a solitary life out on his own, scrounging from the marketplaces? For a time as a young man he pondered on the idea of maybe trying to track them down, he was perfectly capable at this point of finding whoever he was supposed to find, no matter where in Cyrodil that person may be. There was simple little ways of locating people and things that were more obvious than they seem. An inconspicuous little bag of gold to the odd Innkeeper along the road could be your defining clue to where someone was hiding.

Arain had told him the artefact he sought was in the hands of his now deceased Father buried with his comrades at the Cloud Ruler Temple. His Father was a member of the Blades, an organisation dedicated to the safety and well being of the Emperor. Lynch as a baby was left to his Mother in their apartment in the Elven District of the Imperial City. For a while they lived pleasurable lives, contact to and fro his Father was restricted as it would jeopardise their safety. Which is probably why when Lynch's mother died of unknown causes, Lynch was left to fend for himself. With no other relative to rely upon and no money to be left with, he struggled through hunger until his sixth birthday. He didn't know when his birthday was, but he assumed it to be that day, as it was when Arain found him chasing and hunting large rats through the gutters.

Lynch wasn't all expecting the answer he got from Arain, later that night he sat in his bedroom trying to take his mind off of it. He decided to finally have that long awaited bathe, and stood from the bed and started by taking the bells out of his dreads. He had always noticed how loud they were when they weren't dangling silently from his hair. Wearing them was a sign to others, a sign of Lynch being a silent and deadly warrior. In his youth, this might have been true, there was no doubt of his silent movements being efficient. But as he grew, his blades turned as his senses, dull. It was only now in this time of constant danger that he found himself feeling as he did long ago, like a poltergeist. Silent, invisible, unseen.

Lynch lay in the cold Arcane Pool, resisting the biting cold in the same way he always did. It was always meant to be cold, not only to sustain it's magical rejuvenating properties but to constantly remind the bather's body that it was in cold conditions, and it taught it how to resist. In Lynch's case this was something that came along easily. For an elf, his body was brittle when it came to temperatures. The native province of Valenwood, home to many wood elves for its dominating forest landscapes and scorching heat, had tailored the natural heat tolerance to be suited to the natural temperatures to hot climates.

He lay thinking about what was to come of the journey ahead. If he was to go to Cloud Ruler Temple and ask to meet the men his Father fought with, what reception should he receive? A scornful dismissal or a warm greeting and an open audience? Would the be willing to hear what he had to say about what his Father held with him? That was when he changed his trail of thought to what he was retrieving; he was tasked with finding a shard, a shard from the Obsidian Sword of Aeons. The sword was used a millennium ago by the Demi-Prince Anov, the oldest and most powerful of all hero's who upon defeating the Meridium of Lions, an ancient dragon capable of finding different hosts and using them for life force, entrapped both his soul and Meridium's into his sword. It was this sword that prevented Meridium in his Dragon Form from reaching his full potential power. No one knows from which plane of Oblivion Meridium came from, but it is believed that he was a form of Mehrunes Dagon himself.

The cold felt relaxing, and soon his mind was back at ease, allowing him to sink into the pool and resting without shivering. He closed his eyes slowly and let himself fall away into a sleep.

 

7

He wasn't surprised when he woke up in his own bed fully clothed. The sheer magical force the sanctuary had in its air was extreme, it provided a forceful barrier against dark forces, which is what kept Arain so safe from her old enemies for so long. And when anyone did attack, the Sanctuary's old inhabitants; Heroes of the Old, were quick to dispatch them back to whence they came. As was Lynch when they passed on. It was this magic that brought him to the bed and worked its wonders. And he knew that the only way that this magic would ever falter would be if the life inside it died.
And as long as he lived. That would never happen.

He rose, taking care not to rush and strain his muscles. Once they relax and contract from the pools revitalising touch, it became increasingly difficult to tense and expand them again.
He wondered how the Boy was doing, so he went to his chambers. What Roen had said to him stuck in his mind.
'That Boy will become more to you than what you may think'

It would be pointless to try and ignore that growing anxiety in his head, that constant desire to find out hat exactly is going to happen. With the thought of his first conversation with the Boy, he remembered how he claimed to have seen Lynch from his dreams. Perhaps now would be an appropriate time to ask him what he meant. He stepped inside to find the Boy sat on his bed hunched over with the curved dagger in his hand, the same dagger he used to fend off the Vampires. Perhaps it was time for that talk, too. As he walked to the bed adjacent to the Boy, he moved so unknowingly silent that when the Boy was completely taken by surprise when Lynch sat down in front of him.
'How are you feeling, Boy?'
'I'm fine, I guess...' There was a short pause after that. Lynch held his hand out for the blade.
'May I?' He asked, before the Boy nodded and placed the dagger into his palm. After a short moment of examination, Lynch finally continued.
'This is a Life Drain blade. Simple Iron Daggers with enchantments, very popular among Vampires, they soak up power with each hit, so they never run out. Clever, really.' Lynch diverted his eyes from the blade to the Boy without turning his head, and saw that the Boy was facing the floor.
He brought up his next question very carefully. 'Nothing you'd anticipated, right? Your first kill?'
'What was yours like?' the Boy finally replied.
Lynch smirked, looking the Boy straight in the eyes before exhaling a sharp breath and running the story in his head.
'I was a young Apprentice. Living right here in the Library Arcanum. When one night there was an attack, and the barriers went down for a while for Akatosh knows why. We know one thing was for sure and they weren't sure it was there and they certainly couldn't have taken it down themselves. A group of bandits, rogues and thieves looking for some loot to plunder. Well, they managed to take out one of our biggest and strongest, Orn. He had a huge grey beard, typical old veteran. But this guy was bigger than you'd ever believed, some of us nicknamed him 'Giant'. They got him in his sleep. But rather than him dying silently like they anticipated, the blade simply bent back and turned dull against his neck. He woke up screaming, which alerted most of us. But even his neck wasn't tough enough to resist a dagger, no matter how badly made it was. He bled out before we, before I made it there. The first of them was a woman, she looked like an Imperial, I wasn't too sure, I didn't pay much attention.? Lynch stared off into space as he thought about it.
'The only thing I ever remembered was rushing into a flock of sheep and coming out the wolf.' The Boy was lost in the story, imagining the way Lynch would have killed them.
'Arain found me a while later surrounded by corpses, a bit like you. Now tell me something, how did you manage to fight off a pack on your own?'
'I went in a sheep and came out a wolf' The Boy said craftily. They both laughed a little and Lynch patted him on the arm.
'Here's something that's been on my mind for some time now. About these dreams of yours, h-'
'I've stopped having them, and I'd rather not talk about them again.' The Boy cut him off before he could continue.
'Let me finish, please. If you could tell me exactly what you saw in a brief explanation, what would it be? This may very well help us solve all of this.' Lynch toyed with the dagger in his hand as he listened to the Boy take a huge breath and begin to talk.
'The skies. The skies rip open. A dark grey void will consume the sky and all below it. Someone comes before a large winged demon as it comes out of the sky. And the blood, oh all the blood!' The Boy trembled and fell backwards onto the bed, gripping its sheets for comfort. Lynch nodded slowly and stood. He knew this was the part where he needed to leave him alone. As he left, the image the Boy painted for him would not fly from his head. All of the pieces to the puzzle were slowly starting to fit together, and the more and more he learnt, the more and more Lynch felt like a pawn to everyone else's game. He feared he would topple from the pressure everyone was just piling onto him. All of this conspiracy, all of these prophecies, were any of them to actually be? He had enough evidence there for him to believe his actions were not a waste of time but there was and he knew there would always be that thought in his head that would tell him otherwise.

He finally felt fit and able once again, but yet wore simple trousers and a shirt blue shirt with red accents. From the other side of the corridor he could hear heavy metal clanging against each other and excessive grunting. They must have been in the practise rooms against either themselves or armoured dummies. Indeed, it never hurt to brush up on his combat skills, in fact the more he did it, the higher his chances were of being on his toes when it came to a fight.

He stepped into the stone room, there was no sense of beauty here, only a metallic aroma filling the air and sparks flying with each and every clash of steel. Erathor and the Boy were having at a dummy each on either sides of the room, and both looked just as engaged as the other. It looked to Lynch as though they were both under the illusion of thinking the dummy they were attacking was an actual enemy, and in a way this reminded him of how he would have angrily slashed at a target in thinking he was under actual threat. It was this placebo of being under pressure of dying that allowed him to control that rush of adrenaline and tailor all of that power into calm and collected skill.

Lynch picked up a sword from the rack by the door, the leather grip grating against his calluses, but it didn't bother him. The sword felt heavier than he expected, but after a few playful swings just pinned it down to his recent recovery. Erathor pulled him a smiling glance in between each of his blows to the large wooden dummy. Lynch poised himself, spreading his legs just shoulder width apart as he usually would when engaging in combat. A quick strike! Remembering to keep his feet solid and stuck to the floor as he shifted movements, he too began to remember what it felt like to stare into the dummies wooden face and think of it not just as a frozen target but as an enemy, and in his mind Lynch imagined it throwing its own swings at him, and in return with every counter attack Lynch did he made sure to hurl himself out of the way of an oncoming blade, ducking, dipping, diving out of its imaginary reach to lead into a what would have been a devastating parry. Slice! The sharp edge of the blade was blunted by colliding loudly and extremely densely into the centre of the wood, leaving a deep mark into the surface of its torso.

These dummies were no mere makeshift wooden figures, they were crafted with masterful care and a touch of magic to keep it held tightly together in order to withstand insane amounts of blows. In no time prior to then did Lynch ever manage to even make a scratch on the almost perfect wooden body. Or if he did, it rose back up and looked new again. You could definitely tell the wood was dense, as when the few chips that came off of the dent flew to the floor, they made a clang as if though he had just dropped a group of logs. Erathor and the Boy looked at him in astonishment, each raising their sweaty brows and panting for breath. Yes, even the Vampire could breath, he was also a Lyncanthrope.

Lynch looked at his hands, his calluses were now bloody and his feet felt like a tonne of bricks attached to his soles. How he managed to go that hard without his body slowing him down first was a mystery to him. But he seldom did think about how his body worked, unless he was trying to improve it. And if he did, he didn't care what the side effects where. In this case, he didn't care about the ache that started to work its way up his calf and thigh, in fact if anything Lynch was happy with himself. He felt like he had achieved something. Erathor and the Boy clapped at his accomplishment, after two hours of non stop training in there, they each knew just how hard it was to even make that even remotely resembled a dent, after two whole hours neither of the two had seen anything but perfect wood, and within the first ten minutes of picking up his sword and making his way to the dummy, Lynch had managed to make a perfect across one of them with ease. His head soon descended from the clouds and he could feel just how dire the consequences of swinging swords just after an arcane healing was, making his way back to his room with a slight pain in his ankles and wrists, but most of all he felt pure nausea and walking felt like a chore on his stomach. He had felt cramps before, oh sure he had. He travelled across Cyrodil and accustomed himself to cheap Inns and Taverns that sold equally as cheap food and drink as well as they did rooms and accommodation. But not as bad as this. Some nights he had spent laying on his back with a bit of a stir in his bowels, and others felt like pure agony. Again referencing to the way Elven bodies were made, it seemed as if only the Dark Elves of Morrowind could compare their drinking tongues to that of a Nord or an Orc. An angry Orc with a war axe was bad, an intoxicated Orc with a war axe was ten times worse, this was something Lynch had experienced personally one night in the Market District of the Imperial City.

He lay down once again, he wasn't in the mood or condition for sleeping just after a rest, so in stead he lay there staring at the ceiling. A butterfly flew past him and he followed it with his eyes, his bright yellow eyes. It landed on a rose planted in the corner, he had never noticed that there before. Then he realised why, the butterfly that landed on the rose was eaten quickly by a spider lurking behind a petal and the flower along with the butterfly was dragged into a crevice. Incredible tactic, he thought. Then he wondered once again, what if he was only bringing himself to that same fate? What if he was the butterfly landing on a fresh rose in the hopes of getting what he wanted from it, only to find a predator hiding behind it all, and the rose was just a fa?ade? What if he was being deceived? 'Whatever happens, happens.' He repeated.

 

8




The night set over the world, and the grey clouds rolled across the sky, white shimmering snowflakes falling gracefully to the world beneath it. Falling so peaceful and quiet, and landing without a sound, yet still bringing such a harrowing touch. Across the rest of the valley, the skies were clear and the dark blanket of the stars could be seen clearly. But for the land around Cloud Ruler Temple, sitting neatly along the bordering mountains of Skyrim, where the weather was famously cold, and the Nords equally as resistant. Yet, for the Imperial Captain Samuel of the inglorious organisation known as the Blades, the air simply nibbled at his skin, whereas his comrades were complete opposites, most of them shivering like babies in a cold bath. The little breeze that came along with the snow brushed across his cheeks, but failed to pierce through his armour. Only the exposed bits of his skin felt the cold, as he sat comfortably on the high tower that gave him a sensible viewpoint on the world in front of him. Most of all its positioning allowed him to see most of Bruma, the Nordic City to the North of the Imperial City, and they had a lot of contacts there. So should anything drastic happen to the city, they would know about it before their informants did.

Samuel Renault was a thirty seven year old Breton, and more importantly the son of the late Captain Renault, who gave her life to trying to prevent the assassination of emperor Uriel Septim VII, and also through protecting the Seventh Champion as he made it out of the prison tunnels. He grew up outside of the temple, enlisting into the Imperial Legion and being hand selected out of the very few finest and brightest soldiers it had to offer for the Blade's recruitment program by Grandmaster Jauffre. He passed through it with flying colours, initiating into the Blades and set to do his mother proud, following almost perfectly in her footsteps. He was adept at combat, skilled in his speech craft, and talented at what he did, which was observe and report. Like Lynch, the two shared the same sixth sense of being world weary. Any and everything around them was a potential danger, and they went about their days listening and looking around for those little glimpses, those subtle hints in the environment that would instantly tell them they were about to be attacked or something would happen that they needed to be ready for. Yet unlike Lynch, Samuel was just as cunning in strategic combat as he was with melee weapons. Being a leader practically most of his life, Samuel was taught that the mind was sharper than the sword, and without a well planned out plan of action, they may as well have just stabbed themselves and saved the enemy their job.

There was a strange comfort in standing where he was and watching all across the land. It felt so surreal just to listen to the whispers of the wind, the landscape was indeed a feat of magnificence. With one hand by his side and the other holding his Akaviri Katana, he stood watching, waiting for some sign, he didn't know what exactly that sign would have been, but he could smell it in the air that something was afoot in the land.

Behind him came a call from a young blade member with long blonde hair that whipped around in the wind without her helmet.
'Captain Renault, Sir. Ragnor requests your presence in the war room.'
'I'll be there momentarily.' He said, still facing the valley in front of him. The soldier saluted him and marched off. Samuel took one last intake of the land, savouring every moment he spent looking out in his mind before turning and walking through the snow covered courtyard through the doors to the Great Hall. All along the walls he could see bloody swords hung up on the archways.. They looked beautiful in their own unique way, and knowing that some of them were hung there by Samuel himself, he felt a sense of pride as he walked past them. All of them were swords and armours from some of the dead members of the Blades who gave their lives protecting the Emperor, slain comrades and Knight Brother/Sisters.

He came to the war room, a large circular shaped room with a glass dome for a ceiling that had been built not long after the arrival of the late Emperor Martin Septim. The room would have been vibrant from the sunlight, though the glass was covered with the white of the snow and room was darkened significantly, and for that reason there were candles lit along the walls. The war room mainly consisted of just the large geographical sculpture of Cyrodil and several other maps and bookshelves along the room. Rognar was a tall and thin High Elf with ears pointier than average and a personality to boot. He was quite simply described as a nuisance from the rest of the Blades, but he was still the assigned head battlemage, and he had still proven to be the best at his art; logic. There was no better thinker than he, and although some of the blades came to dislike him, Rognar disregarded all of the comments made by his peers and continued in his way, simply because he had been his argumentative, pedantic and sarcastic self for so long now that he wasn't about to change just because a few armoured buffoons told him to. But even throughout all of this, Samuel had always looked to him for help, and tried his best to be patient with him. Rognar was in no position to make orders on Samuel, nor was he to Samuel's men, before Samuel insisted they listen to him.
'Ah, good evening Samuel. I see you're in a serious and level headed mood as usual. How goes the fight against impending doom?' Even if Samuel knew better than to show his aggravation, he couldn't deny even he felt frustrated with each mocking remark Rognar made.
'Afternoon, Rognar.' Samuel said, keeping a straight face at all times.
'I bet you are wondering why I called you here this morning. And I'm also guessing you have a good idea already. Well no, before you ask, we're not discussing the Thalmor.'
'I wasn't-'
'Hush, Renault, there's not much time to waste. I've heard a rumour circulating around that the Mythic Dawn were responsible for the attack on Woodsong two days ago.' Rognar pointed to the village on the map. 'There is much reason to believe these speculations true, which is why I sent a scout out to investigate. He came back this morning bearing news of her son missing, but not by the Mythic Dawn.'
Samuel looked puzzled 'And why are we worried about an Innkeepers son if we know the Mythic Dawn are now dead and the Son wasn't taken by them? Why not leave it to the Imperial Legion?'
'Ah, Renault. That is where my impeccable research comes in, you see, I know who took him.'
'Go on?' Samuel seemed interested now.
'Remember Kristoff?' Said Rognar.
'Of course I do. He saved me on the portal front. Thrice. What about him?' Samuel's face was now sorrowful as he reminisced the days where he was the one taking orders and he felt like a son to Kristoff, and in return Kristoff acted as his Father.
'His son took him.' Rognar said, stroking his pointy chin. Samuel's eyebrows lowered in disbelief.
'I'm sorry, what?'
'Oh yes, you heard right. His son, Lynch, grew up in the Hero's Guild after his mother died and Kristoff had no way of getting to him. Quite amazing how such a small world Tamriel can be sometimes. Why, not just yesterday I ran into M'aiq The Liar.' Rognar laughed his famous laugh and looked slowly at Samuel who was now wide eyed and shaking his head.
'Where is he now?!' Samuel asked.
'What do you plan to do, kill him for the kidnapping of a child? Oh no, that would completely contradict the reason I asked you to come and talk to me in the first place.?
'Well then quickly, Elf. Speak with that large mind of yours before I take it from your skull.' Samuel was getting very quickly impatient and extremely anxious. Sighing heavily before he spoke, Ragnor went on.
'We have something that will be of great interest to Lynch, and we, no, I shall rephrase. I, am going to give it to him for reasons you will not be able to even begin to comprehend. However it is not currently in our possession, and I thought it necessary to task you with what I'm about to ask.' Samuel now calmed down rapidly as his heart came to a slow stutter, he didn't believe the words Ragnor had said.
'You would like me to what?!'
'Yes, I know it sounds completely outlandish and likely to frighten a few of the others but it is absolutely necessary. It's the only way we can get it to him.'
'And what exactly is 'it'?'
'A shard from The Sword of Aeons.'
Samuel didn't know what the sword was, but he was certain that being issued the task he had, it was something that only he'd be capable of carrying.
'It's only a day's journey away, but still, should there be any trouble along the road we can't risk losing it'
'Such a mundane task. I still don't understand, why me?'
'You were Kristoff's one true pupil. And he worked very closely with your Mother. I found it suitable to give you this job because it would be within your best interest, not for the Blades but for yourself, to keep it safe.'
Samuel let the information sink in before he nodded his head and walked out of the room. He knew that Rognar didn't need the words, Rognar knew Samuel was loyal and willing to him, and he 9/10 accepted tasks given to him.

 

He didn't hesitate before beginning his preparations for travel. He went to his quarters and took off his silver and gold armour and neatly placed it on the mantle above his drawers, proceeding to take out of it a simple tunic with badly done stitching across the sleeves. Taking his grieves and pauldrons off, he instead dressed himself in simple leather boots and cloth trousers. The look of a commoner along the road drew much less attention, or at least from anyone not looking for vulnerable villagers and merchants. But should any of the sort, such as bandits or thieves come across the path of a Captain of the Blades, it would always be the last thing they ever did.

He traded his Akaviri Katana for his trademark Kodachi, a small and concealable version of the Akaviri Katana often worn by rich traders or their bodyguards. A perfect substitute, and again was sure to draw less peering eyes. He packed his flask, map and a few other necessities that may prove to be of useful value to him. Once more leaving his own room without so much as a day's rest, and this saddened him deep inside. He had always found a strange peaceful feeling of waking up in his own bed some mornings, listening to the birds chirping outside of the window, the soft silk brushing against his skin as he moved himself into a comfortable position. But not tonight, not tomorrow. He promised he'd do it soon, though, no matter what Rognar ordered, Samuel was still in full control of him. It was the Grandmaster's choice to keep him around, and though he knew Rognar had helped the Blades in more ways than what was taken into account, there was still the opinions and the voices of the others that mattered too.

He reached the gate and shouted up to the Gatekeeper he was to return in a few days. No questions were asked and Samuel set off on foot, he hadn't seen his horse in months, he assumed it to be lost in the forests after the raid they conducted on a group of accused conspirators charged with treason. They were expecting just a small group of shady assassins that had ambitions they could never reach, what they found was an experienced group of Mythic Dawn plotting to take down the Champion of Cyrodil and while they were at it launch an attack on Martin Septim before they reached Cloud Ruler Temple. When Samuel and his group came to find their camp, the were taken completely by surprise, and a few lives were lost. Even still, once their element of surprise was lost, they too took heavy losses and their camp was burned to the ground. In the midst of the madness, Samuel's horse took off on a fearful rampage out into the night, knocking him off and forcing him to walk back with the rest of the remaining Blades.

In the business of war and conflict, Samuel came to learn that every life was special. Everyone had a purpose, everyone was unique, and if you were working with supposedly the best fighters Tamriel had to offer, they all had their own combat style that would provide a particular edge of advantage to the situation. Without some of the people that were there that night, Samuel himself might have been of the first to be shot in the back. He would pass the time as he walked by re-enacting that night in his mind, thinking about how very different the outcome would have been, how many lives he would have saved had he had that extra bit of information revealing scouts in the trees, or maybe just another one man in the back with a reputation for being observant and a good archer.

That's not to say it was the first piece of action he had ever seen, he watched a fair few of his friends die in the past, and twice as many of his enemies. He would hear his mother telling him that killing would always be apart of his life, and that eventually he would get used to it. He would have to, if he was to survive. But he never really did, he still had the odd dream slash night terror about the lives taken right before his very eyes. The gaunt looks that would appear right on their emotionless faces as they breathed their last breath just as Samuel would drive his sword through their heart. He never felt guilt, of course, it was either him or them, and his entire life he was taught to destroy those he was ordered to. It was his job, and his purpose. But some waking moments in the morning or sleeping moments of the night he would spend thinking 'Maybe I could be doing something better than this.' And by that, he deep inside meant he wanted to pursue that same dream of being an adventurer everyone else had.


9




Miles away from the Cloud Ruler Temple, the Sanctuary was still and peaceful, the silence was serene. The crashing of the inner sanctum's waterfall was loud, booming even, but made no impact on the stillness in the air. Lynch walked through this sanctum in a solemn manner, listening to all of the quiet wonders; the beating of a butterfly's wings, the sound of a spider scrambling across the bark of a blossoming tree, the rippling of the water as he splashed his hand through it, and the sound of the water drops trickling through his fingertips, falling back into the pool. It was these insignificant and small details that added up to make the true beauty of the Sanctuary, and like Arain, Lynch could never get enough of it. His home was his best fantasy, and this was one of the real and shocking reasons why Lynch had always appreciated what Arain had done for him. And even though his Mother and Father were both now long gone, he would have always seen Arain as his Mother, no one else. He was to leave for Cloud Ruler Temple soon, and like most of his journeys, he liked to wander around and breathe that familiar magical air that floated around in his lungs, just in case it would have been the last time he got the chance to. The time was drawing near now and he would have had to round up the rest of the party; including the Boy, to leave soon. Knowing they were all resting, he decided to put it off for a little longer. He had his gear ready, and he was bathed and ready, but he didn't feel like it. He for once felt too fatigued to do anything, despite the fact he knew and his body knew he really was just regretting leaving.

 

Finally making his way down through the quarters, he heard voices coming from the other side of Erathor's door, muffled and inaudible voices. He silently put his ear to the door, listening closely for anything suspicious.
'I have told you time and time again, we are not going to die, Mayes. Vampires themselves have blood in them, and it's changeable because we're classed as Undead, our blood is practically frozen inside of us.'
'Then why did our first samples combust? I can't shake the feeling that one night I will fall asleep and I'll set alight from the sun or what runs through my own veins!'
'I promise you that will never happen. We are not the first Hybrids in existence, some Lycanthropes were simply born with it, and through the years as their immunity faded they contracted Sanguinis Vampiris, I've read about it before.'
'Yes, but reading will not tell us anything for certain! We could die from this, Erathor.'
'I promise. If anything does happen I will be there to save you.'
'You'd better.'
'When have I ever let you down?' Erathor's reassuring voice sounded uncertain and that itself struck Lynch hard, what if something did happen along their way that did would be a detriment to their progress? He was about to slowly turn and walk away, but he was interrupted by the voices again.
'I can smell you and I can hear your breathing, Lynch.' Erathor said, and upon that moment Lynch came through the door with an apologetic look.
'Nothing can happen, right?'
'Of course not, Lynch. If anything did happen I'd take care of it. I know what I was getting myself into by turning into this, and I'm fully aware of all of the consequences.' Erathor said.
'Do you need blood?' Lynch asked, cupping his chin into his hand.
'Yes, we do. But we can feed off of animals now, as a part of the Werewolf side.' He replied.
'And what of the sun, does it burn?'
'It stings, but my blood doesn't boil anymore. I can finally live in the sun, as long as it's shady.'
'The same can't be said for me. With me being a Werewolf prior to the transformation, I'm still perfectly fine in the sun, however I freeze up a little in the night, my blood turns cold. Unless I'm exposed to light, like a fire.' Said Mayes, sitting on the end of Erathor's bed.
'Can you sleep or is it painful?' Lynch asked.
'No, I can sleep, I just feel stiff.? She answered.
'Right, then we'll take shifts.' Erathor said, pacing around the room.
'I'm just glad I'm no longer mune to Silver.' She said, laughing.
'So is there any more pressing issues you'd like to discuss before we head out?' Lynch said, getting ready to leave and make for his own quarters.
'Yes, there's also this matter of the Boy.'
Lynch then stopped dead in his tracks as he was walking out and faced Erathor.
'What of him?' He asked.
'Well, Lynch, while I was training with the Boy yesterday, he was teaching me to breathe properly, said it was essential to know how to control my stamina. As a 200 year old Vampire I will have naturally lost all familiarity to the feeling of air in my lungs. In this conversation he told me about his dreams.' Erathor paused for a moment to see if Lynch was following.
'Yes, and?' Lynch said.
'A hundred and something years ago I stumbled across the book of Anov. Are you aware of this book?'
'I know who Anov is, he was the Demi-Prince, right?' Lynch questioned, remembering in his head a shrine he saw of him in a some City, maybe it was Kvatch.
'Correct, he enslaved Meridium of Lions' soul and captured it in the Soul Cairn. Please tell me you know what the Soul Cairn is?'
'Yes, of course, it's the realm of trapped souls, I would have guesses that's where he went. Continue?'
'Right, well, in the book of Anov it stated that the sword of Aeons itself would be used to enseal the Shadowland. Do you know what that is, Lynch?' Lynch looked confused at this, trying to find some trace of the words 'Shadowland'
'Enlighten me.' He said, finally giving up.
'The Shadow Land is the Deadric Realm of Nightmares. Inside of that realm is the sword itself. It's said in the book of Anov that after merging himself with Meridium in that sword, he reached his full potential form and achieved godhood. Unfortunately, the only way for Anov to escape that sword and wreak havoc upon the world in his maddened state is if it repairs itself, which it will if they find that shard.' Lynch now understood clearly, it's almost exactly what Roen had told him. The land of Nightmares, the shard, the portals, it all fell together into one frightening conspiracy.
'Continue.' Lynch said, now seriously intrigued.
'The portals could open at any time, anywhere, and when they do, unless we have this shard in our possession, we'll never prevent Anov from getting out of there, Lynch.' Erathor struck him a cold look, desperate for Lynch to heed his warning.
'What would be the problem with Anov getting out? I thought he was a Hero.' Mayes said from the back, having listened deeply to the conversation.
'His mind will have been corrupted by Meridium, and with him in his Deadric form, any other remaining memories as a human will have long been left behind.' Erathor replied, looking back at Lynch.
'Right, so how does this link to the Boy? Do you know why he's had those dreams? They seem to link perfectly with the prophecy of the return of Anov.' Lynch asked.
'I'm simply going to assume he was just another part of the prophecy, like you were, and possibly myself and Mayes here.' A short silence followed.
'We leave in an hour.' Lynch finally said, leaving the room, picking over the information in his head. He made his way through the corridors to the Boy's room, only to open it and find him already ready, equipped and stood at the end of his bed, almost like he was waiting for Lynch to come and tell him they were going. Lynch nodded at him, knowing the Boy probably already knew what he was going to say, and in relief he didn't have to explain anything, left and made for his own room. His things were already in his knapsack, a few clothes, books and he made sure to take an update map. He slung the bag over his shoulder and looked around, trying to think of anything he might have forgotten. Nope, time to leave, he thought.

Coming out into the hallway once again, he saw the party stood outside, ready to follow. A smile cracked in the corner of his mouth and he nodded to them all stood in a crowd. They moved out, Arain awaited them at the door to the exit, next to her was a tall and hooded Khajiit, Lynch could tell it was Moi from the way he crossed his arms and purred delightedly. Mayes and Erathor backed up a little, pulling each other worried looks and reached for their swords but hesitated to pull them out of their sheaths. Lynch approached him, looking concerned.
'What brings you to the Sanctuary, Moi?' He asked.
'Moi only wishes you the best of luck in your journey, and would offer you a gift to take along with you in an apology for my behaviour.' Moi pulled a deceiving and sly grin as from behind his robe he pulled out a blade wrapped in silk. He unravelled it and brought out a Daedric looking dagger, and Lynch, Erathor and Mayes knew what he was offering; a Blade of Woe.
'This was my very first virgin blade, many lives have gone into it, and I'd like you, my friend and saviour, to have it.' Moi's grin had gone, and a look of sincerity replaced the cocky scowl he gave before brandishing the dagger.
'I'm not sure I understand, Moi. Why this, why now?' He asked, reaching to take the Blade, examining it carefully.
'The Listener appeared to me last night, bearing warning to me and the Brotherhood, as he was to all of the Sanctuaries in Tamriel, telling me the Night Mother had spoken to him. She told him of a great danger that was ahead, a great danger which I especially was involved in, having let the Hybrids live.' Moi said, his yellow eyes twitching from person to person. Lynch took the blade from his hands and grasped it tight.
'Thank you, Moi.' Lynch said, placing his other hand on Moi's shoulder, smiling in gratitude.
'No hard feelings, I hope. Killing is a messy business, as you probably know.' Moi now looked to Mayes and Erathor and smiled back to Lynch before turning to open the iron door to the exit for him.
'I have something I would like to discuss with Arain, if you don't mind my presence in the Sanctuary. I understand you're its primary guardian.' Lynch looked worryingly to Arain, who just smiled at him and said
'Don't worry, if he so much as reaches for a weapon around me I'll take his soul and send it to the dread father.' She chuckled and punched Moi playfully in the arm. Both Moi and Arain knew Moi would never stand a fracture of a chance against Arain, and Lynch had nothing to fear, even if Moi did want to kill her, he would have brought more than just himself and his sword.
'Alright, well, good luck on your travels, Moi.' Lynch said.
'To you too, my friend. Kill well and often, eh?'

 

10

Samuel Renault was walking slowly through the warm winter morning, having just woke up from a night out under the stars and a peaceful rest in the wilderness, he was feeling refreshed. A journey from the snow to the sun was so calming and joyful, he felt as if though he had walked from Skyrim into Valenwood in just a few short hours. Indeed, he found any walk to be a delight. Yet his wits were never far from him, the one true rule of being a Blade is to keep everything together and never let it fall apart, let it be your judgement or your balance, if it wasn't perfect, it wasn't right, and if it wasn't right, it was your duty to make it so. He would often hear the odd swaying of the trees, but there'd be no breeze, and he would reach for his sword, stopping in his tracks to steady himself, and after a few moments of utter silence he would move on again without fear. Always be cautious, if you didn't, you weren't prepared. The place he was headed was the Ember Cemetery, the burial grounds of all of the lost Legion and Blade Members from the Crisis, upon reaching the grounds he was to dig up the body of Kristoff Strike and pry the shard from his hands. Sounded simple enough, unless the Mythic Dawn got there before him, which they probably wouldn't, unless they have an informant, which they probably did.

Hours along the road now, he was coming close, he would soon be about an hour away from the yard. The night was coming closer, and if he didn't make haste, he would be forced to make camp by a graveyard where enemies would be imminent, and he could not possibly even contemplate that. He picked up pace, starting into a run, going as steady as he could for as long as he could.
He finally reached the large iron gates to the graveyard, a mysterious character appeared from out of the mist on the other side. He spoke loudly, but without shouting.
'For whom does the bell toll?' He asked.
'Lynch Strike, I'm here to visit my Father. Are you the Keeper?' He asked, knowing as soon as he lay eyes upon the man that the gate was magically sealed and the Keeper was a battlemage, probably a Redguard, he could tell by the way the field around the gate would turn a blue tint when he came near, and also by the blue hood he had over his face. Under the shroud, Samuel could also see the smile upon his face.
'You are no son of Strike. I know the son of Strike. They're a Wood Elf race, above all.' Samuel was hesitant in his reply, knowing he'd been found out. By the Nine, had Lynch already been here?
'No, my name is Samuel Renault. I'm just here to pay my respects, Kristoff was a Captain in my regiment.'
'At this time of night?' The Keeper asked.
'It was a long journey here, and I don't want to make camp outside.' He replied.
'You may enter, son of Renault.' He said, disappearing into the mist, his voice echoing as the gate swung open, accompanying the sound of a metallic clang as they hit the walls they were attached to. He took a moment to catch his breath before entering, making absolutely sure there was no one around that would try and intrude. His feet stuck to the muddy grass, and walking felt tedious above annoyingly squelchy. Thinking to himself whereabouts the grave would have been, he thought of a Monument rather than a tombstone, as it would have made a lot of sense for a Captain of The Blades to have his own statue or tomb. He still couldn't believe he was doing this, digging up the grave of a dead soldier to rob him of his things. And what if the powerful Keeper was to reappear? He would certainly not be able to battle any sort of power like that with just his short Kodachi. Pressing on, though, he came to a small row of statues, 10 feet tall and all of them wearing the Blades' armour. A sign to the right of Samuel read ?Grandmasters? and another to the left, ?Captains.? Knowing it was either do or die, he took a quick consideration of the consequences and picked over how he would go about facing them in his head, and turned to walk along the row. Reading the names quickly, he saw a few names he once heard of, Rielus, Alain, two of the four mightiest Blades of the Third Era.

Then he came to the Strike name, engraved into the template of a large stone figure, Elven, with the wings of angels sprouting from its back. The inscription read 'When the darkness comes, we'll ride unto the dawn.' A direct quote from Kristoff, in the back of his head Samuel could hear his words wringing constantly. Time to get digging, he thought. Then he realised he had nothing to dig with but his sword, and that would take a long time to do. His best bet right now would be to dig with his hands, but to what expense? He asked himself. Should he get his hands moist and dirty, his sword would become hard to grip, as of now time was essential. He dug with his fingers and his nails planted into the ground, scraping rapidly, tiring himself out gradually, making as many inches as he could before a threat presented itself. The top layer gave way easily, but as he went further down into the ground it proved increasingly harder to pull out. He felt paranoid as he continued to dig, turning his head every other moment he heard a noise, a faint howl in the wind, a shuffling or a rustle. What felt like hours but was actually half an hour passed, and to Samuel's happy surprise, he was already scraping the surface of the wooden coffin. The odds were finally seeming to be on his side now, and he dug much quicker, giving it one hundred and one percent now. He could almost clearly see a large wooden patch of it, all he needed to do now was steepen the sides and sweep everything off of the top by throwing it all into a large mound that lay aside him. Then he heard footsteps, and it wasn't paranoia.

The Keeper approaching him with a conjured blade in his hand gave Samuel very little time to think. Readying himself as best he could for the attacker, he remembered his sword, and reached for it, but found the sheathe to be empty. Looking back and forth to the Keeper in fear, the Keeper stood before him with Samuel's sword in his hand. Of course, Magic.
'The shard is not destined for mortal hands.' The Keeper said, staying both blades to his side. 'It is destined for a true Prince.' Samuel at this point didn't know what to say, let alone what to do.
'What even is this shard?!' Samuel asked, almost shouting, the anxiety clouding his judgement.
'It is not of your concern. You are a mere mortal being. Blade or not, there's a reason the shard was buried with the Strike name.' The Keeper said, tilting his head.
'And what would that be?' Samuel asked, inching backwards to the grave.
'Because they're not mortal.' The Keeper replied, a sly smile on his face.
'Indeed, your path will cross with the Strike boy, but it will not be today, it will be on your dying day.' The Keeper said, throwing down Samuel's blade.
'How are you so sure?' Samuel said, reaching slowly to pick it up. But the Keeper did not reply, he instead just laughed and walked backwards into the mist, Samuel was too afraid to follow after him, and instead just turned back toward the coffin, finding it wide open, the dusty and lifeless corpse laying quietly with the shard, a crimson like jewel. He sheathed his sword and took the shard from his chest, it felt ice cold and he hesitated before picking it up. It was also heavy, unnaturally heavy for a simple shard, although it did look pretty large, about half the size of his hand. He didn't even want to know how big the actual sword would have been, trying to imagine it in his hands just made him feel tired, and he was. Assuring himself he was still alone, he closed shut the coffin lid and started to push and kick and shove the mound of mud back into its hole.

Relieved he finally had it in his possession, finishing the grave felt good. But the feeling was cut short by the sound of thudding shoes surrounding him. A lot of them. He brought his sword out once more, but before he could even try and count the number of shoes, an arrow ripped into his back and he fell forward face first to the dirt. There wasn't a chance he could have prevailed against the numbers of Mythic Dawn that circled his body, he was still alive, but unconscious. They weren't going to kill him, no, they were going to find out what he knew first. And they would break him in the process.

 

11

The night set over Tamriel again, and Lynch and his party were finally coming up the hill to Cloud Ruler Temple. A Knight Brother was stood atop the watchtower and shouted down for them to halt and state their names.
'My name is Lynch Strike. Son of Kristoff Strike, deceased Captain of the Blades.' Lynch shouted back up, hoping his name still bore weight on this place. And indeed, the watchman on the tower turned to shout commands to his fellow Blades.
'And those?' The watchman said, pointing out the Boy, Mayes and Erathor.
'These are my companions, they''ll be no trouble.' Lynch assured the man, squinting his eyes from the sunlight. The large wooden gates in front of them slowly swung open and a flight of stairs was revealed from behind. Climbing those stairs alone felt tiring, never mind the venture there and back.. As he got to the top, he was greeted by Rognar, and two other Blade members behind him. Lynch outreached his hand and offered a handshake, to which Rognar returned and smiled earnestly.
'Ah, Strike. Mercenary, hero, thief, murderer and the son of a great Captain to one of the most powerful and secretive organisations in Tamriel. Tell me, how is it you came to stumble across us this fine evening?? Rognar asked, hands behind his back.
'I come with a request, I must find the body of my Father, I was informed he was buried here.' Lynch replied, glancing through each person standing in front of him, all eyes were fixed upon him.
'The shard is what you seek, yes? Believe me I know about it too, this whole business with the prophesied end of time is quite frantic. Well, you'll be happy to know we have our own Captain Renault getting that shard for us right now, you'll have it and be on your way.' Lynch was shocked with lightning, that easy? Surely not.
'Is that it?' Lynch asked, squinting his eyes not from the sun but from the surprise.
'No, you have to go and save Captain Renault from the Mythic Dawn and bring both him and the shard back to us. Then we'll know you are truly the son of Kristoff. I knew he'd be captured, but I also knew he was the only one to get past the Keeper. He was due back yesterday.' Rognar smiled, while the men behind him pulled angry and violent looks to him for knowing he did this deliberately, putting their beloved Captain and friend in danger.
'He'll be alive, don't worry. He's being held at Fort Aurus along the Niben Bay. There'll also be some opposition, but of course, a son of Strike could handle that, right?' Lynch looked very angrily and flustered at Rognar.
'There'll be no problems.' He said, before exiting the courtyard and making his way back down the stairs through the gate, his friends following silently through down the path and once again restlessly wandering over Cyrodil. The Boy's quietness was more stomach stirring than any one else's, he felt scared knowing he was going into something that maybe even Lynch couldn't handle. Then he remembered his training, although how brief, he was still told to be naturally talented, as was his father. And for his build, he was a beast compared to others with the same frame.

The sun sank like Lynch's hopes for a good night sleep, and the campfire they had set up flickered against the raging night. A hole was growing in his chest the more he thought about what he was doing here. The weight everyone constantly threw onto his shoulders was now taking its toll and not even the memory of his Father made him feel like living up to it and lifting it all off. They each took the night shifts they had discussed, Mayes sleeping soundly, the Boy carving smoothly at his wooden dagger, sharpening it to almost blade-like sharpness. Erathor was sat up in the trees, wide awake and Lynch simply read the book of Anov that he found in Erathor's knapsack.


'Page 21
The mighty dragon that was Meridium of Lions perished at the final strike dealt at his hands, and at that point the enchantment cast upon it by Azura herself trapped both their souls, sealing their fate for centuries to come. The sword lay in the Shadowland of Oblivion, the supposed plane of all the things more powerful than what even the mightiest of Deadric Princes could comprehend. Things of nightmares made by beings of both the mortal and immortal realms. Thus the birth of the Daedric Prince of Nightmares was born.'


He put it down after finishing that page, placing it back into the knapsack and trying to imagine the thought of mighty Princes clashing in the skies above all those eras ago. Clouds shifting into mad shapes, the world below trembling in fear for their very lives. A magnificent battle it would have been, but yet oh so terrifying, to know that the very threads that the universe dangles from are wearing thinner by the day. An hour later Erathor emerged from the shadows of the overhead branches and dropped down, alarmed, Lynch's bow in hand.
'Party of travellers coming along, not too threatening, most of them unarmed, but it's escorted by armoured guards.' He spoke hastily despite there being no real threat.
'How many guards?' Lynch asked
'About 5, two on either side of the villagers, workers, whatever they are. And one leading at the front.'
'Could be bandits and slaves.' The Boy said modestly.
'As much as I doubt that it could be true. How well armed?' Lynch sighed and spoke to Erathor once more.
'Like I said, not too threatening. We could probably take the guards if they gave us trouble but what if the people with them take up arms?' Erathor asked 'What if they actually were guards or prisoners of war?' he continued.
'Sounds like just a caravan in my opinion. What would you have me do?' Lynch asked, when suddenly the Boy stood up, brandishing and waving his piece of wooden art around.
'I could provide a distraction, a helpless lonely boy wandering the forest at night. If they take hostile action, so be it, we'll strike them from the trees, if not, we'll let them pass.' Lynch thought for a moment, considering what could go wrong and what they would all get out of this. He couldn't risk losing the Boy, but unless he went along with his plan he may not have an opportunity to save him either. Lynch nodded and Erathor needed no other instruction, bow slung to him he climbed the base of the tree again, and Lynch made a dash through the bushes to climb the adjacent trees across the dirt road. The camp they made was very close to the road as they didn't want to risk attracting any animals, of course they could handle the odd few on the road but if they went too deep and attracted a pack they put everything on the line.

Once the oncoming party drew near to them, the Boy stumbled out onto the road making a sick and tired face, gripping his ribs. The leader drew an arrow to the bowstring and got ready to fire, but one of he guards on the flank lowered his arm.
'What are you doing all the way out here, boy?' The second guard asked him. The Boy deliberately mumbled something inaudible and the frustration in the guards was shown through their voices as they started murmuring amongst themselves.
'Speak up, now!' He shouted, but the Boy ceased before answer him. The guard chuckled and nudged the archer that lead, but before Lynch or Erathor could jump down to react, the arrow that was now flying so incredibly fast through the air towards the Boy was stopped dead in mid air by the Boy's hand and with a sharp spin and throw the arrow was already on its way back to its sender. The Archer looked stunned as he just barely dodged the arrow and was hesitant to draw another while the rest of them drew their blades. Lynch recognised the swords that came from their sheaths, they were Imperial Blades, made with the same Imperial Steel as most of the armaments the Legion wore were made from. Erathor however, did not see any reason not to attack and fired two unexpected arrows from the branch and managed to take one of the soldiers out, the other was hit in the shoulder and took the blow standing, looking toward him. Knowing there was no turning back now, Lynch leapt down from his side of the trees and pounced onto the single guard on the other side of the crowd, all of them now shivering and staying in silent fear. They were indeed civilians or farmers, as none of them took retaliation and they froze up. Rather than instantly assassinating the soldier, he held his Blade of Woe to his throat, looking into his equally as woeful eyes, his mouth open in fear and sweat drenching his brow. He turned his eyes to the Archer and the other soldier standing by him.
'What are you doing along these roads, attacking civilians and leading a pack of people like you're herding cattle?' Lynch asked, pressing the edge of the blade to the very edge of the soldier's skin.
'Please, don't harm any more of my men. We're Imperial Soldiers, these are travellers coming from the festival in the Imperial City.' The second man said, his hands shaking with his sword. Of course! It was the 6th of Frostfall now, almost a full week of festivities coming to an end. But that still did not explain why they were leading the pilgrims on like a leash.
'Explain to me why you felt the need to point an arrow at what you thought to be an injured young boy unable to speak?' Erathor now asked from the trees, arrow drawn and keeping the soldier still standing frozen on the spot, grunting in pain from the arrow he dislodged from his shoulder.
'There have been attacks on groups of travellers all over Cyrodil, we were assigned the duty of escorting the remaining few pilgrims to the border. This particular lot were headed to Eleswyr. We can't risk anything on these roads any more, so if something presents itself and doesn't assure us it means no harm it is our duty to dispose of it.' The guard said, voice shaking as much as his body. Erathor and Lynch each looked at each other and slowly sheathed their weapons. Lynch rose from his crouch and Erathor disappeared through the trees to check on Mayes, all of the time being there he felt a searing burn in his throat as he watched the blood spill from the soldiers wound. Fresh blood was what he sought, but for his and Mayes' sake, the animal diet would have to suffice. He had to set an example above keeping himself in check. Bloodlust was a thing best kept under control, or else the consequences proved dire and the aftermath even worse.

 

After a long parting conversation, Lynch allowed the party of Imperial Soldiers and travellers to continue forward and made his way with the Boy along back to their camp.
'Your finesse is truly stunning, how in Oblivion did you catch that arrow so easily?' Lynch asked, patting him on the back.
'I'm not sure, I just saw something that was coming to kill me and I turned it away. avoiding the obvious danger, I suppose.' The Boy answered, shrugging. Erathor slept alongside Mayes, Lynch soon drifted off but the Boy kept awake. Using his Vampire blade he took the time to cut down his hair, starting from the fringe onto the sides and back. Using the reflection he could make out from the pot of water above the campfire, he checked himself out and smiled. It had been a while since he done that, he had always done his own hair, he hadn't trusted his own Mother enough to let her do it. Like everything else she would have done it to her liking and not his. That reminded him, how would his Mother have been doing now? How had she been, even, was she upset about his disappearance from his home and town? Or was she filled with glee at his missing presence and space taken up now free? These were questions that would have once bothered him, but the past week had taken him places he had never imagined he had gone in his daydreams on that balcony. From hoping he would one day get to discover a new cave or dungeon inhabited by goblins to seeing the courtyard of Cloud Ruler Temple, the inside of an actual Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, meeting Vampires, Werewolves, Hybrids and Heroes. His smile widened, maybe one day he would write a book on his adventures. But then, his thoughts trailed away to Lynch, the mysterious Wood Elf Thief that saved him from not only the misery of home but the pain of a sword through the chest. He couldn't understand how he managed to be put into near death conditions then but when faced with Vampires and flying arrows he suddenly turned into a skilled fighter. And then there was the whole business with his dreams, and how he was supposed to be the one to be able to fight them.

Oh how he felt so helpless against them, some nights the nightmares would be lucid and he would run from them, run from the demons and the dremoric beings that would come at him, burning his home and town and all of the glorious world around him that he wanted to explore so much. Maybe that is why they stopped, Lynch finally shown him the world around him, and maybe Lynch had been able to turn him into such a warrior in so small time. Maybe he was ready. Only time would tell now.



12

The night passed over quickly and the morning sunlight brought a burning desire to keep moving as quickly as possible. The sooner they got this done, the better. They pressed to Fort Aurus, it was just a short hours walk away from them now. They would have attacked during the night, but Mayes in her physical condition, the parties along the road, and the general disadvantages of trying to make their way through a dark Fort at night, it wouldn't have been smart. As they came closer and closer to the Fort, each of them kept their weapons closer to them than they ever had before, consistently keeping their eyes peeled on the area around the road and not on the road itself. They felt an uneasiness, a discomfort, and it put them all off the objective.
'There it is.' Mayes said, pointing across the lake off the road to the Fort that stuck out of the luscious landscape around it.
'How are we going to go about getting into there, Lynch?' Erathor asked, scanning the obvious entry points. They were looking at the back of the Fort and could only see a way through the outer battlements.
'It's a Fort, there'll be tunnels that lead through to the dungeon if we look close enough around the rear.' Lynch said, trying to spot any hidden waypoints.
'How about the front?' The Boy spoke up from the back.
'Too risky, they'll be expecting a frontal assault.' Lynch replied, still looking out across the waters.
'If anything they'll be expecting us to attack from any weak spots in the Fort. They'll know we think they're going to expect a front battle. They're not stupid.' The Boy spoke back, 'They'll probably be holding Captain Renault at the back of the Fort anyways, so they'll have heavy defences there.'
'He's right, Lynch. Easiest route anyways.' Mayes said. Lynch turned to each of them and sighed.
'Two in back, two in front. At least that way we can divide the house.' Lynch finally said.
'I'll go with you, Erathor.' The Boy said, looking at him. Erathor smiled and nodded.
'For Sithis.' Erathor said, patting the Back on the shoulder. Lynch looked at Mayes and asked her if she was ready.
'Let's just get going, if anything I may have to turn if there's an overwhelming force.' She replied as she started walking off.
'We'll meet you inside!' Lynch called off to them as he followed after her. As he caught up he noticed she had picked up pace considerably quicker than she had done on the road.
'Do you always walk this fast?' He asked, keeping up in good speed, but still finding it out of his natural walking speed.
'Have to be quick, don't we?' Mayes replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them and not to Lynch in the slightest.
They came to a group of shrubbery and small trees near the main wooden gate. The fortifications outside of it were mainly just wooden barricades and fences. Nothing they couldn't manoeuvre through. There appeared to be no guards outside, but they knew as soon as they approached they would somehow become aware and find them. The question simply was did they want to risk just exposing themselves straight away and taking on whatever came at them or at least trying to sneak in even if it meant landing in a difficult situation? Eventually they decided to stay crouched and stick to the shadows, no matter how little they might have been.

Minutes later they found themselves scaling the large stone walls with their arrows as claws to stick to the walls. Slowly, they ascended up the surface until they climbed over bits of ruined battlement and stood atop a derelict and old wall that aligned the Fort's courtyard. The silence was still and serene, not even the small breeze and the falling of loose cobble could disturb it. They stayed low as they tried to look out for any presence in the courtyard, but it was still void of life. Just as they were about to move, Mayes suddenly released a jolt of energy from her palms, and her eyes lit up, turning a tint of yellow. She tilted her head around, but even with her Vampire Life Detect she could not find anyone hiding against cover. Lynch needn't ask what it was, he had seen this be done before. And as they moved along the walls he hoped she had other tricks up her sleeve that allowed them to cheat out of being detected, because other than his situational awareness, he certainly didn't.

They found a doorway along the far side of the wall, covered by the overhanging moss. Lynch led, turning the handle very slowly, trying to keep as silent as possible, it was essential he kept it, vital. Once open the light shed from the open doorway lit up what looked to be a library. There was no windows, and virtually all or most of the lighting that came through the crevices in the walls were blocked off by either moss or cobblestone. Mayes still couldn't see anyone, and even with her Vampiric Sight and Lyncanthropian senses she couldn't find any other hint of assailants. Making their way over burnt and ruined books, they came to another door on the right hand side of the room. Still null to Mayes, they were sure it was safe. But as they walked through, the door swung open very loudly as a gust of wind came through the hall they entered, and over the balcony they faced was a group of Mythic Dawn agents, all armoured in conjured platemail and with transparent summoned weapons. They all turned to the sound of the door, and upon that moment the sheer number of the group now running up the large staircase to meet them was enough to make Mayes' flesh turn to fur as she stood tall into a fearsome werewolf. She charged into the oncoming horde of Agents with open arms, ripping and tearing her way through them, while simultaneously taking slashes from the side and back. Lynch didn't just stand still, however, whatever little force was left on the ground he vaulted the balcony to meet with blade in hand. Ducking under a strike, he countered with a blow to the stomach, blood came spitting out of the wound onto Lynch's face as he rolled out of the second agents reach, standing to block an oncoming sword. It felt heavy as its weight piled up onto the small Blade in his hands, but it wasn't enough to put Lynch to the floor, he spun, and as his enemy toppled to the floor as the pushing force was released, Lynch took a single stab to his lower back and didn't pause before moving onto the next target. He never failed to parry a blow, and it was not just a minute later of combat that he clear out the lower floor, and Mayes was hurling the last of the Mythic Dawn agents off of the balcony, their limp bodies helpless against the might of her claws. As she slowly came down the stairway, however, there was a trail of blood left behind by her huge gaping wounds. Her movements gradually became slower as well as her breathing. Short adrenaline fueled snarls were replaced by slow and agonisingly painful gasps for air. Her werewolf form could take it, but once she turned into a human, which she would once her bloodlust that came with being a Hybrid Werewolf died down, she would have little time left, and Lynch had no idea what to do.

 

Her human form started to come through as her eyes went from bright red back down to a tint of crimson, and her fur started to turn into little more than the hairs on her soft skin. She collapsed as she was finally back into her lesser self. Lynch quickly rushed over to one of the corpses he had left and stripped him of his bright red robes, his conjured armour now faded back to Oblivion. He wrapped Mayes' naked and wounded body in the robes and held her in his arms. The colour of her eyes were turning blue now, and unless Lynch thought of something, this will have been the last time he would ever get a chance to hold her like he did then. Panicking, he tried to search around for something, anything that might have at least given her a chance at surviving.
The tome. The spell tome he kept in his back pouch. He reached for it, but it was not there. He frantically patted himself down, but alas, his searches were only wasting time. There was but one last thing he could do that might work now, and that was risky, but he had to do it. It was now or never. He once more held his Blade of Woe in his hands and without hesitating or even wincing at the pain he gashed at his palm and placed it over her lips. He could feel it trickle into her mouth and her lips slowly begin to suck it up, she longed for her first taste of such rich blood. It soothed that burn in her throat like no other healing potion ever could, and her eyes shot open in pleasure at the taste. She kept sucking, and Lynch's arm and hand began to feel drained, but he knew he could keep going for a little longer before she did any damage. He could even start to see her wounds and gashes begin to close up right before his eyes as she consumed the blood running through his veins. Finally, he pulled his hand away and without retaliation she released her teeth from the skin of his palm. His hand was still bleeding, but he bandaged it up well with a bit of torn cloth from the robe he dressed Mayes in. The main worry he had about feeding her was not only her wanting more than he could give but this setting her off on a wild fury for blood. But her fatigue seemed to be the only thing that stopped her. Mayes now stood weakly, dressing herself properly in the robe, fitting it soundly onto her torso and folding up the sleeves where they hung a little longer off her arm.
'Th- thank you, Lynch.' She said, leaning onto the banister of the staircase for support. Lynch was about to reply, but the words that were coming out of his mouth were cut short and got caught up in his throat as a dart hit him in the back of the neck, Mayes was about to get ready to turn once more, despite her pitiful physical strength at that point, but another dart was fired from atop the balcony by a strange figure, not wearing the average Mythic Dawn armour.

Lynch's vision crept back into him, faded and blurry at first, but then a light was shon into his eyes as the door in front of him whacked open and a hooded man stood before him. He was tied to a chair, his weapons were stripped from him and his neck and upper body felt numb. The figure approached him, bearing the Boy's curved dagger.
'We have your friends, Lynch. And your shard.' The huge grin on his face was the only thing exposed to light, but Lynch could easily look past the shadows into his bright green eyes. Lynch couldn't find the strength to move his lips for a reply, he instead closed his eyes and listened.
'You honestly thought you could just march into here with your little Werewolf friends and take what is rightfully ours? You silly boy. We're the only ones capable of using that shard for the good of Tamriel, not you. And by good I mean, saving it from complete destruction from Molag Bal.' The figure walked circles around Lynch in the chair whilst Lynch chuckled at how stupid this man was. He didn't know just what was heading towards them, did he?
'What are you cackling at, Bosmer fool?' The High Elf demanded, putting the blade to Lynch's throat. Fortunately, he managed to make a quiet reply.
'Mo.. Lag Bal... Has nothing to do w- with this.' He stuttered at each word, trying to forge his words as best as possible.
'If not Molag Bal, then who? Mehrunes Dagon again?' Chuckling once more, Lynch replied,
'You fool... It is Meridium of Lions that's c-coming for us all. We're a-all doomed unless we g-get that sh-s-shard.' He could feel his strength come back as he spoke more and more, his words got faster and flowed nicely.
'Deluded little rat you are. Meridium of Lions is a myth. We all know he is a myth. I was told the stories as a child, a great dragon slayer in the Blades turned into a demon by a Daedric Prince. You're expecting me to believe this?'
'Believe what you want to believe.' A third voice said from behind, and more blood was splattered onto Lynch's face, the wooden dagger held by the Boy was driven through his chest.
'Are you alright, Lynch?' The Boy asked as the body of the figure fell down to his feet. Lynch nodded and smiled at the Boy turned man now stood in front of him holding a very blunted wooden blade covered in blood. After having his bounds cut, he stood and picked up the curved blade, handing it to the Boy.
'Where's Mayes and Erathor?' Lynch asked.
'They're both in the barracks of the Fort down the corridor, Renault is there too. We don't have the shard yet though, and there's still a whole army of them to go through yet.' The Boy replied, supporting him down the hall into the aforementioned barracks, where Samuel stood to meet him.
'Lynch Strike, it's an honour to meet you.'
'Evening, Captain Renault.'
'What's our plan now?' Erathor asked, he was dressed in tattered red robes, having turned in the battle prior to freeing Lynch. By now they were all in the underground level, and they had a lot to go through to get to the front gates again.
'Well we need to get the shard back, and I have an idea of where to get it.' Samuel spoke very calmly, walking over to a weapons rack covered in dust and from it pulling off an old and dull iron sword and trying to fit it into a sheathe. 'Before anything we'll need to get our weapons back though, none of the weapons in here will hold out against any conjured weapon they can make.' He continued.
'Where do you suppose they'll be?' Lynch asked, looking over to Mayes, shivering and sleeping on top of a table. 'And how's Mayes doing?'
'She's fine, Lynch.' Erathor said in a clipped and straight tone.
'If I had to guess I'd say it'd all be kept in their leaders quarters somewhere on the upper floors. They won't be anywhere near the dungeons just in case we got out.' Samuel said, finally finding a sword just sharp enough to cut his finger with. 'Wow, the weapons here are kept in awful condition.'
'Suppose that's also in case we got out?' Erathor asked, smiling.
'I guess so.' Replied Samuel, chuckling heartily.
'We can't split into groups this time, we have to all go together and storm the halls.' Lynch said, now standing well on his own two feet rummaging around for anything sharp like a knife at least.
'Agreed, but someone will have to keep Mayes with them.' The Boy said from the corner of the room. Before Lynch had a chance to offer himself for it, Erathor cut in front of him.
'I'll do it, I'm fast and light and if need be I'll turn and ride out of there with her.' Lynch saw reason in this and didn't bother arguing, besides, he was better in combat than he was carrying people, as he had found out days beforehand.
'Then it's settled, we go up the stairs to the main dining hall, then we'll need to pass through the kitchen corridors, that's when we get to the stairwell that will take us to the upper chambers. Once we get there, it's imperative we stick close, the corridors will be tight and there'll be little room for errors. I mapped it all out for you.' Samuel then pulled out a parchment from his back pocket and unfolded it, placing it onto a counter where everyone but Mayes stood around. He pointed to the room on the far top side of the map, and said 'this is where we'll need to be, from here one of us can get up the stairs to the tower rooms, and the rest can hold out so there's time to search.' At that point everyone nodded, Lynch put the stiletto he found into the buckle of his belt, the Boy slid his dagger into his sleeve, concealed and ready to spring, and Erathor just stood with his eyes closed. Grunting, his hands and nails turned to claws and fur grew on his skin, but his clothes didn't tear and he didn't grow to 8'0 high, he was the same height, and looked very humanoid, but his eyes turned the same yellow and red that Mayes did. Lynch and Samuel looked astonished at this new balance of form Erathor had achieved.
'Just something I've been working on.' He said in a very deep growl. The Boy smiled and started to laugh
'So that's your big backup plan!' He said popping his dagger in and out of his sleeve, making practise always helped. Erathor laughed a deep laugh and carried Mayes out of the room following Lynch, Samuel and the Boy. At first they each moved slowly down through the tight hallway, but once they found themselves standing silently outside of the hall doors, they moved through with intense speeds, sprinting through the rooms wielding their weapons leaping across the tables and making it to the other side before any Agent had chance to come and investigate the crashing. Now running through the kitchen corridors, the first of the worst was coming at them quickly. The doors that lined the kitchens swung open and Agents that were cooking dived into the corridor and ran towards them with knives and cleavers, however they weren't big nor quick enough to even attempt a swing before they were killed and pushed aside into the walls. Finally climbing the staircase, they came to a slightly bigger corridor, but turned the corner and ran now to the adjacent doorway that opened up the tower stairwell, behind them came more enemies swarming towards them with more than just knives. Lynch sprung forward ahead of the Boy whilst Samuel quickly darted into and up the staircase. Stabbing the stiletto through the first attacker's throat, ducking, bobbing and weaving was all he could do to keep himself untouchable. He was unarmed, and he couldn't see another materialistic weapon on any of the Agents that were coming at him, but he didn't need to. Erathor, after placing Mayes down next to the Boy, charged into the crowd and one by one swinging his arms and taking them all out. More of them were coming toward the Boy now from the other side of the corridor, and the Boy met them with less aggression but more precision, and the curved dagger he held in his hand made equally as quick kills as he defended Mayes.
More groups of them came and more of them died with each second, by now the group were getting tired, but luckily enough Samuel burst out of the door and tossed Samuel his Blade of Woe and at his hip was a sheathed and fresh Steel Sword.
'I have the shard!' He announced, unsheathing his new weapon as he came to join facing the oncoming foes. At that point they all began to push forward, the Boy was the one now carrying Mayes with him. Down the stairs and backtracking through the corridors. It wasn't long before they came to the main front courtyard. The sunlight was almost blinding, as they came outside to face over twenty Mythic Dawn Agents standing before them, and even more archers on the walls. The same mysterious figure that the Boy impaled with his wooden dagger now stood in the centre of them all, arms wide, the same grin on his face. And it was then, as a force surged through their bodies and coursed through their system were they forced to the ground by the power of magic, and then they realised that what they were blinded by wasn't the sunlight at all.The figure stood with his boots to Lynch's face as he struggled desperately to get up, but it was futile, all in vain. The magic was too strong, they were all bound now by a masterful necromancer.
'Think it would be that easy did you, Bosmer? Oh you're even more foolish than I though!' The man chuckled, kneeling down and taking the Blade of Woe from Lynch's grasp, toying with it in his hands. 'What is it about this blade you hold so dear? Is it its craft? Material?' Lynch wanted to say so many things but the force that shut his entire body up made no exception to his lips. Instead, only angry grunts were all the man was given in reply. The man laughed and walked over to the Boy and knelt down besides him. Lynch could only just turn his head to witness what the hooded figure with the Blade was going to do that made him laugh so much. Then he placed it to the Boy's neck, and said 'Maybe this will put you off of it.' And took one clean slice.