Walk in the Shadows

Fourteen

Femke

Fire. Blazing, scalding fire. Burning through my bones. Setting my nerves ablaze. Every fraction of a movement, every heartbeat, sent the inferno coursing through my blood.

But if I am in pain, that means I must be alive. But how can I be alive?

Memories of what I thought were my last moments played through my mind. Mercer kneeling over me, mocking me. His blade piercing straight through my chest. I remembered the point running all the way through my body, coming out my back. The regret I felt when I realized I would never be able to make it up to Bryn.

But if I am alive, then that means I have a chance.

I tried to sit up, tried to move, but a voice told me to lie still and be quiet. A kind, gentle, feminine voice. A hand pressed against my bare shoulder, cold fingers pushing me back down.

"What's happened?" I rasped, voice weak and dry. "Who are you and where am I?"

"Easy, now." The hand left my shoulder, moving to cup the back of my head. "You've been in and out of consciousness for almost a week. You're still recovering." The speaker held something to my lips, poured its bitter contents down my throat. A healing potion. I swallowed, only because I had to.

"Where am I?" I cracked my eyes open to see a wooden ceiling. Was I not just in Snow Veil Sanctum? It did not have wooden ceilings. And it certainly did not feel this warm.

"The Frozen Hearth, in Winterhold. I moved you here when you would not wake."

"Who are you?"

"Karliah."

Pain forgotten, I sat upright, having to clasp the fur blankets close to my chest to keep myself covered. My ruined, bloodstained cuirass sat on the table next to the single bed in the room. My satchel lay next to it, and the rest of my armor was set in the floor under the table.

I looked at the Dunmer sitting next to me. She wore old and stained Thieves Guild armor, and her boots, gloves, and hood were ordinary cloth. Her unique, black-wood bow was strung over her back, and an interesting sword hung at her hip. She narrowed her violet eyes at me, then pushed me down. "Take it easy. You're still weak."

"You shot me!" I struggled against her hand.

"No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Why did you do it?"

"My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death."

I grunted and begrudgingly lay back down. "You should have shot Mercer instead."

"I promise you, the thought crossed my mind. The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect; I only had enough for a single shot. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive."

I furrowed my brow. "Why capture him alive? He nearly killed me and would kill you if given the chance."

"Mercer must be brought to the Guild to answer for what he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus's murder."

"And just how do you intend to prove that Mercer murdered Gallus? He's got everyone fooled. It's going to take more than your word to convince them of the truth."

"My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered a journal from Gallus's remains. I suspect the information we need is written inside."

"You suspect? Didn't you read what it said?"

"The journal is written in some sort of language I've never seen before."

"Then we should have it translated. We can, can't we?"

"I've already spoken with Enthir, Gallus's friend at the College of Winterhold. He's the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity."

Nightingale. She mentioned it to Mercer just before he stabbed me. And now she had used it again. "There's that word again. 'Nightingale.'"

"There were three of us. Myself, Gallus and Mercer. We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften." She gently laid her hand on my good shoulder. "Perhaps I'll tell you more about it later. Right now, you'll need to head to Markarth. That's where Enthir said to go for the translation. Speak to Calcelmo in Understone Keep."

"Markarth? Understone Keep? Calcelmo?"

"He's the man who knows the most about the extinct Falmer. The language that Gallus used in his journal is the ancient Falmer dialect. Enthir cannot translate it on his own. He needs a translation key."

"And that's where I come in."

"Yes. Get to Markarth as quickly as you can. I understand you're injured, but if we're to stop Mercer—"

"Say no more. You had me at 'stop Mercer.' I want to put an end to this, too. He lied to me, to the Guild, to... to the man I love. Mercer tried to destroy the friendship I had with that man because he was jealous. So he started a horrible rumor. I have to fix the damage he caused, and if I can humiliate him the way he humiliated me, sign me up." I groaned and glanced at my shoulder. "But how, exactly, am I supposed to travel all the way to Markarth with a wounded shoulder and chest?"

"That healing potion should do the trick. It'll take some time for the effects to take hold, though. You'll be fine...." Her face turned curious. "I never got your name."

I sat up again, brushed a lock of hair from my face. "Femke."

"That's a pretty name. A Bosmer name."

"My father named me. He was Bosmer."

She chuckled. "That explains it, then. You're a hybrid."

I pursed my lips. "Please don't say that so loud. I'll get laughed out of town."

"Don't be so ridiculous. You can't change who you are. So own up to it."

Before I could make a snarky retort, she left, closing the door behind her.

I stood on shaky legs and worked at donning my ruined armor. I looked horrible in it, with the blood stains across the chest and down my right arm.

Ton is not going to be happy about this. This is the second time I have ruined my cuirass.

For all I knew, though, Ton and everyone else in the Guild thought me dead. Mercer could be there right now, telling them of my unfortunate demise in Snow Veil Sanctum. He would probably conjure up a few false tears as he weaved his tale of sorrow. And then he would have to suppress his sneer when he would see Bryn's face. He would never know the truth about me. Not unless I got down there and proved it.

But I could not just march down to Riften and burst into the Cistern. They would question me, and if I told them I was working with Karliah, they would kill me on the spot. No, I had to wait. To get the information necessary for proving Karliah's innocence. Then we could return to the Guild triumphant.

As I left the room, satchel over my shoulder and bow across my back, I thought of Bryn. I hoped that Mercer had not returned to the Guild. I did not want Bryn thinking I was dead. I did not want him to regret not stopping me. I did not want him to regret the way we left things. I still wanted to fix it, and I hoped that he wanted the same. I would just have to wait.

Bryn, I hope you can wait, too. I'll be back soon, I promise. I hope you'll forgive me for this.

Fighting back tears, I left the inn and took the road out of Winterhold. Markarth was a long way away, and it would not get any closer unless I got a move on.