Claimed: A Thieves Guild Fanfiction [Revised&Edited]

Chapter 26

    The inside of the dwarven ruin was quiet, but it wasn't silent. There was a hum of energy in the air and every now and then Arsha could hear the creaking of something metal echoing in the distance. There were things moving in the darkness, and their presence was more than enough to keep all three Nightingales on their toes.

Arsha had explored dwarven ruins before, more times than she had ever wanted to, but this one felt different somehow. Maybe it was the very presence of Mercer Frey somewhere in the twisting depths, or maybe it was the strained air that lay over the three Nightingales, the tension thicker than a fog.

Karliah and Brynjolf were walking ahead of Arsha, close enough for them to still be in plain sight, but far enough that any whispers that occasionally passed between them were indistinguishable, even to Arsha's elven ears. A part of her was grateful for the distance. Being close to Brynjolf made memories rush to the surface of her mind, memories she wished she could bury forever. At the same time, Arsha hated even the smallest distance between them. The further she was from Brynjolf, the harder it would be to protect him, and the less of a chance she would have to prove how much she regretted her actions. But Brynjolf had made it quite clear that he didn't want her anywhere near him, and Arsha would rather suffer any pain than to put the nordic thief through any more hurt with her presence. And so Arsha stayed back, her hand always on her bow to fend off any and all attacks, but never in the way.

They traveled through the darkness for almost an hour before they saw the first true sign of Mercer. They had just exited a hallway when a deafening crash echoed through the air and shook the stone floor beneath their feet. Brynjolf pointed to the far side of the cavern they had entered, to a column that had fallen. "Mercer!" Arsha quickly stepped forward and followed Brynjolf's line of sight. She watched as Mercer Frey slipped between two large gates, but not before he glanced back, as if he knew they were watching him, knew that all they could do was watch him as he slipped out of their reach. Arsha growled under her breath as she realized what Mercer had done.

"He blocked the path," Arsha whispered into the stunned and heavy silence.

Brynjolf whipped around to look at her, and Arsha took several quick steps backward. She hadn't meant to get too close. Each step away from Brynjolf was like a physical pain to her. She took them anyway. She deserved the pain she felt.

"How did he do that, lass?" Brynjolf asked, but he wasn't talking to Arsha. He was looking at Karliah who stood next to him, gazing at the spot where Mercer had vanished from their view.

"The Key," Karliah's soft voice was grave. "He knew we were here, so he slowed us down. This is only a fraction of the Skeleton Key's power. We must be careful now. There is no way of knowing what else Mercer Frey could do." Brynjolf nodded and the two of them pressed onward, deeper into the dwarven ruin. Arsha followed behind, putting arrows into the skulls of any Falmer that dared to creep out of the shadows where they dwelled.

As they made their way through the twisting ruin, they saw and felt Mercer taunting them at every turn. In one room, he had emptied all of the chests, and in another, he had written a mirrored message on the walls. With each sign, Arsha's anger grew. Mercer didn't see them as any kind of threat. He was toying with them, taunting them, and showing them just how far ahead of them he was.

Arsha was so distracted by her anger towards Mercer, that she almost didn't notice that they had entered a room full of Falmer, whose hands brandished bows, swords, and crackling balls of magicka. Karliah had already felled two with arrows to the neck, but the rest of the room was coming towards the Nightingales at a terrifying speed.

A few hastily strung arrows flew through the air and embedded themselves in the eyes of the two Falmer closest to Brynjolf. The nord didn't seem to notice the aid, too busy plunging his daggers into the chest of a Falmer shaman in front of him. Arsha fired three more arrows, each following after the other faster than the Falmer could process. Three of the creatures dropped dead, but their numbers barely seemed to diminish.