#azzan

At this, the Breton laughed. "Oh that's just precious," she said, smiling wickedly despite her bloodied and bruised face. "You finally figured out you can't leave here?" She spat blood. "We'll rot here together, you and I. I got rid of the key." I could feel the horror taking over my expression before it morphed to anger. "Boss, what's she talking about?" Burz asked. "Where is it!" I yelled, flying forward. Burz caught me easily with one arm, dragging me backwards and away. "Burz, let go. That's an order!" I yelled as I struggled. The Breton just laughed again, as two of our brother fighters stepped up to take Burz's place guarding her. "Boss. You gotta calm down," the big orc said, keeping his voice low as he dragged me back further. "We didn't find any key. Tell me what we're looking for so we can search for it. What's it the key to, anyhow?" "If I may, Sir?" The assassin stepped up to my other side. "The key we seek is to the slave band here. Our reverend Listener will not be able to leave this cave system with the band still attached, and it cannot be removed via conventional means." Burz looked over my head at the Breton assassin. "You know what it looks like?" he asked. "Yes," she said, "though I fear it will not be easy to find. We are looking for a small key, no bigger than this." She held up her pinkie finger for consideration. "I bet she threw it in the crevasse," I said then, bitterness colouring my words. "The bitch said she got rid of it, right? If you were in her boots and wanted to keep someone you despised in some stinking cave for the rest of their life, how better than to lose the key to their escape in an unfathomably deep hole?" My companions stared at me for a long moment as they weighed my words. "That makes an unfortunate amount of sense..." Methredhel said. Burz lowered his arm, and I turned back to the Breton woman. "We may as well put her to the sword," I said, loud enough to carry. "If she doesn't know where the key is, then she's of no use to us. The stain of the Blackwood company needs to be wiped out forever." "May I do the honours, Master?" Burz asked. I looked up at him. He bristled with anger, a deep-seated fury that seeped from every pore. "I can only imagine what she has done to you and Oryen, so you would be within your rights to say no. But I wish to claim her life in the name of our brothers murdered by her kind in Forsaken Mine." I glanced at our brothers on either side of the forsaken woman. They seemed to tense at the memory of that news spreading like wildfire through our ranks. I stepped away from him. "The honour is all yours gro-Khash," I said. Our brothers took a prudent step away, as Burz advanced on the Breton, unsheathing his mace. The Breton looked wildly between me and him. "Surely you're not going to allow this?" she said, alarmed. "I'm bound, on my knees. This is murder! What happened to your precious Fighter's Guild honour?" "Should I remind you," I asked coldly, "that until my comrades arrived, you had me bound and prone, giving no appearance of remorse for what you did to me or mine? Don't confuse us with the Knights of the Nine. Fighter's Guild honour demands a life for a life. Unless you can give me a compelling reason to spare yours, then I see no reason not to continue." The Breton's eyes flicked desperately around the room, finding no quarter in anyone's expression. "The key!" she said. "I threw the key into the crevasse." "Not compelling enough," I said. Burz stood over the woman, his mace held high. "I can show you how to get down there! I remember where I threw it!" "Hold!" I called. Burz looked across to me, and I shook my head. "She might be of use yet," I said and turned away. The potion was wearing off and the flush of anger had passed, leaving me exhausted. "Castellan," I said, waving at the Battlehorn Castle Captain, "work with gro-Khash to find out what she knows and recover the key." Castellan Athon clapped his fist to his chest. "Of course, Champion," he said and strode past me. "'Redhel," I said, wavering on my feet. "Can you help them? I know your eyesight is pretty good, even without augmentation, and I seem to recall you like shiny things..." The thief turned from where she'd faced away from the imminent death, quirking a smile. "I do like shiny things, yes. Prefer it when they're worth something. But for you, I will help them." "Thank you," I said, head drooping. "I'll send you an invoice later," she said, laughing when I rolled my eyes. "And what about you, reverend Listener?" the assassin asked. "I am going to sit down over there and possibly pass out for a few minutes," I said, staggering my way over to what seemed like a comfortable spot against the wall.

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They'd left me hanging for the night again, nauseated from Fa'nir's ministrations, disoriented and dehydrated from blood loss. The cave was dark, only the faintest starlight reached us from the holes in the ceiling. Is it any wonder then, that when cold reptilian hands brushed mine, I jerked into full consciousness? The startled cry on my lips was stifled by that same scaled hand. "Greetings, fellow thief," whispered a droll Argonian voice from behind me. "I trust you realise it would be well to stay silent?" I nodded into the hand. "Good," the voice said, and the hand withdrew. Something about that voice was familiar. It wasn't until the manacles dropped from my wrists with the tiniest of clinks, that I understood. "Amusei?" I whispered. "One and the same," the Argonian said. I felt his hands on the back of my neck, investigating the collar. "This one will be trickier..." He padded away from me, towards the cell where Modryn lay, sleeping. Yes, sleeping – I wouldn't countenance anything else. Another figure moved in the dark, beside the cell door, and Amusei whispered to it. Other shadows twitched to life in my periphery, and I twisted to see someone stood there, his long curved sword glittering in the faint light. Only a few people I knew carried swords like that – the Dunbarrow crew. I nearly cried out in relief. Plans E and F had arrived together. I didn't think to question what had happened to Plan D. I hissed out between my teeth. Amusei and the second shadow paused in their whispering, said something more, then the second shadow broke away, coming towards me. It resolved into the form of a young Bosmer woman. She silently raised a questioning eyebrow. "Methredhel," I greeted her. "Take the Dunmer and get out." She shook her head. "My instructions are for both of you." I bit back a scream of frustration. "Amusei says the collar is too difficult. Take the Dunmer, and come back for me. Please, 'Redhel." She was silent for what felt like too many heartbeats, her face inscrutable in the dark. Then she gave a quick nod, and padded back to the cell, waving over the pirate, Zedrick, I thought. Another shadow, presumably Scurvy John, followed suit. They had a short conflab inside the cell before Methredhel trotted back out. She leaned in close enough that I could smell the leather of her armour and the lavender soap with which she bathed. "Alright, here's the plan," she whispered into my ear. "The disreputable gentlemen will take your Dunmer to a prearranged point, while you and I wait for the distraction. Then we'll see about the collar. Can you run if needed?" "Probably not. Got any potions?" Methredhel nodded against my face. "Your mage friends are very useful," she said. Before I could ask what she meant, the Bosmer was pulling away and I could only wonder at her words. How did she know about my ties with the Mages Guild, and what did she mean by 'the distraction'? Then she was pressing a vial into hands that shook so fiercely she had to uncork the bottle for me and help me drink. A flush of sweet, iron-flavoured magic washed through me, though I gagged at the sensation of bones growing and muscle reknitting. Methredhel swiftly put her hand over my mouth to stop the noises, and to stop the potion from coming back up. "Better?" she asked as my tremors stopped. "Aye. For now." She gave me another quick nod and stepped around to look at the collar's lock. As she did so, I watched figures emerge from the cell. The pirates carried Modryn between them in a queen's lift while Amusei raised a hand, signalling that their part was going well, and they would continue. The four soon disappeared around a corner of the cave. Yet another shadow, clad in leathers as purple as the night, detached from the wall to follow them, and I realised with a start that the Dark Brotherhood were here as well. Plan D was involved with E and F? What the hell was going on... Things only got more confusing from thereon. After what could have only been a few minutes, but felt like hours in the watchful dark, I heard a commotion coming from the left – the opposite direction that the pirates had taken Modryn. Methredhel was quick to take action as soon as we heard it, loosening the collar and allowing the chink of the long chain to be hidden by the sounds of combat. "'Redhel, what's going on?" I asked as she took my hand. "I'll explain later. For now, we run." So saying she took off, pulling on my hand. I was not nearly as fast as either of us would've liked. I hobbled and limped along behind her, seeing sparks each time I put a foot down, willing the adrenalin to hide my pains.

By the time we caught up with Modryn's escort, my vision was wavering, and I felt flushed and freezing at once. Stabbing pains radiated from where the slave band bit in around my arm. "Amusei, Yinz'r," Methredhel hissed. The two Argonians took one look at me, and in tandem scooped me up. If I'd had the strength, I probably would have protested. Once I was in arms, our group took off, while the sounds of battle still raged elsewhere.