Already the day was waning, the light turning to warm gold on the shores of Lake Rumare.  Across the lake on the opposite shore she could see an Ayleid ruin, the magical fires of the wild elves still burning bright with an eerie blue light, the crumbling white stone painted pink in the fading sunlight.

She turned to see the walls of the city rising high above her, and found no comfort in it.  There was no way in but the grand entrance, and it was on the other side of the island.  And how could she go there now?  Certainly, she had a few drakes on her that she had picked up in the prison and sewers from the goblins, but how could she rest, how could she even think of sleep when she carried the Amulet of Kings, when the fate of the empire rested on her shoulders?

She sheathed her sword and breathed a heavy sigh.  It was a long walk just to get around the other side of the Imperial City.

Elaya stuck close to the walls, and though the steep drop to her right made her progress slow and treacherous, she felt better having to only watch one way for danger.  Though the area around the city was relatively safe, it also had very few patrols, and she knew there were wild animals here, much worse than the rats she had faced.  But besides a few scrapes from stumbling against jutting rocks, she reached the Chestnut Handy stables outside the city's great gates just before the sun fully set.

She wished she had the coin for a mount, or the courage and stealth to make off with one unseen... but she was no thief, despite her time in the Imperial Prison, the sores on her wrists from her shackles still healing. So she headed for the long bridge leading away from the Imperial City.

The rising moon glinted against the water of the lake as she crossed the bridge, casting its pale blue glow over the landscape, and she longed to stop and look out over the lake.  A gentle breeze lifted her hair and cooled her cheeks and the surface of the lake glittered with its passing... but this was no leisurely stroll, and she quickened her pace, looking straight ahead toward the end of the bridge, gripping the hilt of her sword.

At the end of the bridge on the shores of the lake was Weye, a tiny settlement with a single farm and an inn.  Elaya looked longingly at the golden light shining from the windows of the inn.  Surely there would be no harm in staying the night.  She could get a good night's rest in a warm bed and leave first thing in the morning.  She would be able to travel during the day, and would likely find herself in Weynon Priory by lunchtime.

But the Amulet of Kings rested heavy beneath her cuirass, and the words of the Emperor rang in her ears as she stood outside the inn.  He had entrusted her with this task as his dying wish, and though fear gripped her, she set her jaw, and walked on.

Her boots crunched on the gravel path and the wind rustled the trees as she half walked, half ran the way toward Weynon Priory.  Not far past Weye, just off the road from an abandoned fort, she passed an Imperial Guard on horseback on patrols, and she felt reassured by his presence.  He nodded and tipped his torch to her as she passed.

Just past the fort was a crossroads at the shores of the lake, and she took the fork leading to the west, toward Chorrol.  Soon, the trail narrowed and steepened, and it wound up and back upon itself as it climbed, and her pace slowed as she had to hike uphill with her heavy gear.  The night had grown a bit chill since sundown, and though her pace kept her warm enough that she was sweating a bit, the cool breezes that came down the path caused her to shiver now and then.  It was so quiet out.  Just the rustle of the leaves in the trees, an occasional hoot of an owl, and the sound of her own footsteps and breathing.

She tried to move quietly, knowing that the shuffle of her feet against the gravel path would carry in the night air, alerting anyone or anything in the area to her presence.  But she was so tired from everything that had happened.  So much fighting had exhausted her every muscle, especially being so untrained in such things.

Five days ago she had been nobody, an amateur alchemist and just a normal Breton girl born in Bruma and raised on a farm near Skingrad.  Then she had been thrown in prison because of her stupid cousin, and then, somehow, witnessed the assassination of the emperor, killed his asssassin.  And then, she was entrusted with the fate of the empire, and carried the Amulet of Kings.  And now, she was trudging uphill on the road to Chorrol in the dark, alone.

A nervous giggle welled up in her throat, uncontrollable.  It was just so insane, everything that had happened, that she had been given this task.  And how crazy of her, to be doing it at night, all by herself, with nothing more than this stupid old sword to protect herself with.  She barely knew how to use a sword.

Her giggling stopped abruptly at the sound of a howl of a wolf from off to her right.  It sounded far away, but not nearly far enough.  She froze in place mid-step and looked off in the direction of the sound, clutching the sword tight.  Her heart pounded hard in her chest, the sound of her heartbeat in her ears almost deafening.

She stood there for several long moments before she realized she had been holding her breath, and she sucked in the cold night air with a soft gasp.  There came another howl, but it seemed further off.  Surely if the wolves were hunting they wouldn't be alerting their prey to their presence with howls.  They would come quick and silent through the woods.  This thought was not reassuring, and so she moved on up the hill again with a swiftness to her steps.

It was not long until the land leveled out a bit, and through the trees she caught sight of a structure up ahead.  As the trees parted, she saw a great stone structure looming ahead of her, with the road running  straight through it.  It was an old fort, built to protect the road, but now long abandoned and fallen into disrepair.  She stopped and looked up at the crumbling grey stone, silhouetted against the night sky.  While this had once been a great stronghold with guards protecting travelers, it could now hold anything... bandits, beasts, ghosts... But another howl came from behind her, louder and closer than either of those before, and she took a deep breath before dashing through the archway into the crumbling shell of the fort.

From above, she heard a voice, muffled and indistinct, and with a soft whimper, she broke into a run, emerging quickly into the open area on the other side of the fort.  There was little cover, but she made for a stand of trees, and pressed herself tight to the back of the largest of the trees, whispering a prayer to Kynareth under her breath.  It seemed forever before she had the courage to peek around the tree.  She saw a Khajit making his way back into the fort, barely visible in the dim moonlight, but dressed in tattered leather armor not much better than her own.  She doubted that he'd been planning on offering her a friendly greeting, and she vowed to visit a Wayshrine of Kynareth as soon as she could to thank her patron goddess for her blessing of luck.

As soon as the Khajit had disappeared back into the fort, she moved on quickly but quietly.  That had been a close call, and though she could defend herself against the likes of goblins and rats, a Khajit was a much more formidable opponent, with claws and teeth as well as the weaponry of men, and the wit and tenacity to bring her to a swift end.  For however much she feared for herself, what would happen if she were to fall now, victim of a bandit's arrow, or a pack of wolves?  What would become of the empire if the Amulet of Kings were lost, if she could not bring it to this mysterious unknown heir?  But failure was not an option, and she kept moving as quietly as she could, jogging through the forest in the pale moonlight.

She came upon a small farm, the windows darkened, its inhabitants surely asleep at this hour.  She thought back to her own home, the farm of her aunt who had raised her since her mother's death from the coughing sickness that had taken her so young.  She had never known her father, and her mother had died when she was barely older than a toddler.  All she knew of life was her aunt Madia, and her cousin Lucian, who, though two years older than her, always acted like a silly little boy.  It had been a life of quiet simplicity.  They knew nothing of fine food and fancy clothes.  Elaya's hands were calloused and rough, even for a young girl's, and her body, though slender, was capable of great physical strength.  She knew how to plow and plant, could butcher animals without flinching, and knew the satisfaction of a hard day of work.

She wondered at the family sleeping beyond those darkened, shuttered windows.  Their beds were likely low wood frames, mattresses stuffed with straw as hers had been, and their dreams upon them filled with simple pleasures of bathing in forest streams and a fine harvest.  She longed for that simplicity, to be safe and warm and at peace without complication.  But she had no time for daydreams, and while these farmers could rest easy, this farm girl had more important things she had to do.  And so she moved on.

She was slowing now, the exhaustion catching up with her, the adrenaline coursing through her veins fading as the night wore on.  The drone of the insects in the forest rose and fell, seemingly in time with her breath, and the lull of it made her even more tired.  She had to be getting close now.  She had been moving quickly, jogging or running and rarely walking, only pausing very briefly to rest, for hours.

The trail moved steeply upwards again, and was broken here and there with rocks which caused her to stumble and nearly fall.  She longed to sit and rest, to close her eyes for just a few minutes.  But she knew if she did she would fall asleep, and in these woods she might never wake up again.  The uphill climb slowed her pace, but she pressed on, ignoring the aches and pains in her body and the gnawing pain in her calf from her wound.

Finally, rounding a corner, she caught sight of a glimmer of light, and with a cry of joy she realized she had come to Weynon Priory.  The priory was small – a tiny chapel, the main house, and another small building with a stable behind, but it looked as a palace to her in her exhaustion.  She stumbled the last few steps up to the priory, and almost collapsed on the stone wall surrounding its well, clinging to the mossy stone and laughing softly to herself.

She gave herself a few moments pause there till she managed to drag herself upright again.  Her legs were shaking she was so tired, and she wondered how many more steps they could manage before they just gave out entirely, but she gritted her teeth and opened the door to the priory house.

Inside it was warm, almost oppressively so after the cool breath of the night air.  The house was sparsely furnished, and a monk reading in the room off to her left saw her enter.  He blinked, confused at her presence, and closed his book, setting it on the table, and approached her.

"Yes?  Can I help you?"  He wore a frown, etched deeply into his face, which seemed as much a part of his monk's garb as his simple brown robe and carefully-clipped tonsure.  Elaya could only imagine what he was thinking at a young girl in tattered leather armor, spattered in blood and dirt, arriving in the middle of the night unexpectedly.

She raised her hands in a placating gesture, reassuring him, and keeping her sword hand empty.  "I must speak to Jauffre.  Please, it's urgent."

The monk quirked an eyebrow, but nodded, and then looked up and to her right.  "He's upstairs... go ahead."

He went and sat back down and opened his book, but he kept his eyes on her as she mounted the staircase.  Each step seemed to sap her strength even more, and her feet seemed to be made of lead.  However important her duty, she needed a bed, and soon, or she was simply going to fall asleep where she stood.

In the room upstairs and to the right, another monk sat at the table at the end of the room, reading quietly to himself.  The room was lined with bookcases and tables filled with alchemical samples, the familiar smell of mushrooms in the air.

Elaya approached the monk at his desk, and he looked up from his book with annoyance in his eyes.  "What is this?" he demanded.

"Are you Jauffre?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I'm Brother Jauffre.  What do you want?"

"The Emperor sent me to find you," she replied simply.

"Emperor Uriel?  Why?  What’s wrong?"  There was disbelief in his voice, and he looked her over.

"The Emperor and his sons have been killed."  Elaya’s voice trembled at forming the words of such an event.

The book Jauffre had been holding fell from his hands and tumbled to the floor.  He stared, unseeing, at the surface of his desk, and then looked up at her, anger and fear clouding his gaze.

Do you know something about his death?"

She nodded solemnly.  "I was there when he died."  She outstretched her hands, showing him the blood that still spattered her forearms.  "Some of this is his blood."

"You'd better explain yourself.  Now!"  A fierce growl crossed into his voice.

Elaya took a step back, shaking her head.  "You misunderstand me, Brother.  He gave me the Amulet of Kings just before he died."

"You brought me the Amulet of Kings?  This cannot be.  Let me see it!"

Elaya nodded, and reached beneath her battered cuirass to where the Amulet rested, safe and warm over her heart.  She wrapped her fingers around its golden chain and pulled it out.  It glinted in the candlelight, throwing sparkling crimson daggers of light against the table as she held it out to him.  Jauffre gasped, and his hand trembled as he reached out and took it from her, turning it over in his fingers.

"By the Nine!  This is the Amulet of Kings!"  He tore his gaze away from the jewel with difficulty and looked up at her with a frown.  "Who are you?  How did you get this?  What do you know of the Emperor's death?"

She was unprepared for his hostility, and it took a moment before she stammered, "My... my name is Elaya... Elaya Sheran.  I am... nobody... A farmer and amateur alchemist.  I was imprisoned in the Imperial Prison, through no fault of my own... By chance, the Emperor's escape route from the city led through my cell."  She caught her breath and paused as Jauffre leaned forward, urging her to continue.  "He seemed to know me, and that it was the day of his death.  I do not know how, or why, but he seemed to trust me, and he allowed me to follow him and his guard through the catacombs along his escape route.  We were set upon by these red-robed assassins at every turn.  Then, there was... a trap set, and one of them came out of nowhere.  Before I could do anything, the Emperor lay dead at my feet... I killed his assassin, sir... I have never killed a man before, but I slew him myself."

She took a deep breath and finished, "Before he died, the Emperor gave me the Amulet, and told me to find you."

Jauffre looked at her for a long moment before nodding slowly.  Quietly, he said, "As unlikely as your story sounds, I believe you.  Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me, carrying the Amulet of Kings."

"Brother... The Emperor's dying words... I don't understand.  'Close shut the jaws of Oblivion.'  What does that mean?"

Jauffre was quiet then, and when he spoke, his words were soft.  "His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Emperor seemed to perceive some threat from the demonic world of Oblivion.  The Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, is one of the lords of Oblivion.  But the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers."

"How can Oblivion threaten us, then?"

"I'm not sure. Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation."  He looked down at the crimson jewel held in his palm and shook his head.  "The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power.  When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City.  With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries."  An expression of fear crossed his face.  "It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."

"The Emperor asked me to find his son."

Jauffre nodded again, and he lowered his voice even more, so she had to lean forward to hear him.  "I am one of the few who know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades.  One night Uriel called me in to his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe.  He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child's progress."  A wistful smile crossed Jauffre's lips before he continued.  "Now, it seems that this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne... If he yet lives..."

"Where is the Emperor's son?"

"His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here.  You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger.  And please, let me know if there's anything you need. My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can."

Elaya's knees trembled and she shook her head.  "I... I cannot go at once, Brother.  I have been running here since sundown, and before that I was fighting for my life and that of the Emperor.  I stand now on will alone, and it is failing me.  Please... I must rest."

Jauffre frowned, but then his features softened as he looked upon her.  She was barely more than a child, really – a young girl with battered armor too big for her, a sword she clearly knew little of wielding, and had been thrust into a situation far beyond her control.  She was covered in dirt, her short ginger hair tangled around her pale, frightened face, stinking of blood and sweat, a filthy bandage wrapped around one leg.  The journey from the Imperial City had to have been hard – that was a dangerous road, especially at night.  It was a wonder she had made it here at all, let alone in more or less one piece.

He nodded, and then stood, walking to the railing.  "Brother Piner, come here!" he called, his voice strong, echoing through the stone walls of the priory house.  A young monk with a soft, almost boyish face rushed into the room and nodded respectfully to Jauffre, looking upon Elaya with a skeptical raise of his eyebrow.

"Yes, Brother, how may I be of assistance?" he said, still looking at Jauffre.

"This is Elaya.  Please see that she is taken care of... a bed, food, clothing, a bath, and tend to her wounds.  She is our guest."

Jauffre turned to Elaya and nodded respectfully.  "Brother Piner will see to anything you need.  See me as soon as you feel up to it.  We will talk more then."

"Thank you, Brother Jauffre," she said softly, and quietly followed Brother Piner to the other room.

He gestured to a chair near one of the beds and said, "Here, sit, please.  I will fetch some hot water to get you cleaned up.  You can sleep there..."  He pointed to the bed near the chair, and moved off down the stairs.

Elaya sat down and pulled off her boots and then began to peel off her socks.  She winced as they stuck to her feet and the blisters on her heels burst.  She dabbed at the blisters with her socks and then set them aside atop her boots, setting her feet gingerly down on the floor.  They were so sore, the hard wood floor beneath them made them hurt even more, and she lifted them a bit until her aching calves forced her to set them down again.  She pulled off her sword and sheath, and then began to unbuckle the straps holding on her cuirass... but the remaining old leather straps, already tattered from age, crumbled in her hands and the cuirass fell down at her feet, knocking over her boots.

She sat there for a moment in her filthy tattered rags, the scraps of clothing she had been given to wear in prison... and looked longingly at the bed.  She was so tired.  With her last bit of strength, she stumbled over and lay down on the bed, sinking into the soft straw mattress, the smell of which reminded her so much of home.  She was already snoring by the time Brother Piner made his way up the stairs with a bucket of hot water.

Elaya awoke the next day and opened her eyes, blinking groggily at the room around her.  She lifted her head and immediately regretted it.  Every muscle in her body screamed in pain and she cried out into the air, a choked sob passing her lips.  She had known hard work her whole life, but she had never felt like this before, unable to even breathe without pain.

Brother Piner ran into the room and knelt at her bedside, smoothing his palm over her forehead.  "Shhh, hush now," he murmured.  "Relax yourself and it will not hurt so badly.  You pushed yourself far too hard, and now you are paying the price.  You must relax.  I will give you something to soothe the aches in your body, and when it takes effect, you must stretch to help work out the stiffness.  It will hurt, but it will get better."

He hurried off, and returned with a tiny green bottle, its label scrawled in an illegible hand.  He uncorked it and set the cork aside, and then knelt again, lifting her head with his palm, and putting the bottle to her lips.  She drank, choking back the thick, bitter liquid, until the bottle was empty, but she did not complain; it was vile tasting stuff, but anything was better than this pain.  He let her head settle back onto the pillow, and she closed her eyes.

She dozed there for a while until she heard Brother Piner moving about in the room again, and she looked over at him.  He was grinding herbs into a mortar, humming quietly to himself.  She realized then that turning her head to look at him hadn't hurt so bad, and she gingerly lifted her head, slowly and carefully propping herself up on her elbows.

She was wearing a clean white linen tunic and brown leather breeches, the right leg rolled up to her knee, and her wounded calf freshly bandaged, as well as the blisters on her feet wrapped in gauze.  She had been cleaned, the blood and sweat and dirt gone from her skin, and she blushed a little at the idea of the monk undressing and cleaning her unconscious body.

Brother Piner turned and saw her awake and smiled.  "Ah, you must be feeling better."

"Yes, I am," she said, and she realized the words came out a bit slurred.  She blinked and gave him a puzzled smile.

"A side effect of the painkiller I administered earlier, I'm afraid.  Slows the speech and reflexes similar to strong drink, but that will fade quicker than its effect on the pain you were feeling.  You have several hours before that will return, but now, you must stretch.  The pain will return, but if you stretch, it will not be nearly so bad."

With Brother Piner's help, she sat up, and slowly, carefully worked the stiffness from her body, stretching each of her limbs as the monk massaged the pain from her muscles.  She still hurt, but it was a strange throbbing faraway pain that lessened as she moved and stretched.  When she had loosened her muscles, Piner handed her a cup of water, and the mortar full of herbs.

"Chew several bites of these thoroughly before swallowing.  It will help keep the soreness away, but will not be as strong or as intoxicating as the potion I gave you previously."

Elaya nodded her understanding, and tucked a large pinch of the ground herbs into her mouth, chewing at them.  Piner chuckled.  "You don't complain at all about the taste like most of my patients do."

Elaya smiled and shook her head.  "I grew up with my aunt's cooking.  This is delicious in comparison."

Brother Piner laughed and sat with her until she had finished, and then took the cup from her after she had washed down the herbs.  "How do you feel?" he asked.

"My body aches still, but not so bad.  It is something I can ignore, and I don't believe it will hinder my movement.  Thank you, Brother.  You have been most kind."

"You are quite welcome, Elaya."  He gently patted her shoulder.  "Would you like something to eat?  You must be hungry."

She nodded and smiled.  "Yes, I'm starving, actually."

Piner grinned at her.  "Well, I can't guarantee that we do much better than your aunt here, but it should help with the hunger.  Wait here – I'll get you a bowl of stew."

She sat on the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes, taking a few long, deep breaths.  The strangeness of the situation wasn't lost on her, and the only thing keeping her from believing this was some bizarre dream was the dull ache through her arms, legs, and back.

Brother Piner returned with a crockery bowl of stew and a mug of cool water and sat in the chair near the bed as she ate.

She looked around at the heavy wood beams and the stone masonry of the priory house and raised her spoon, remarking, "Looks like this place has been around a long time... and built to last."

Brother Piner nodded.  "Not sure quite how long, but certainly a long time.  A bit drafty in the winter, but it has its charm."

Elaya smiled and ate another bite of the stew.  It was thick and meaty with big chunks of potatoes, and it filled the growling emptiness in her belly quite well.  "Seems a simple life, living as a monk.  Life in a priory must be fairly dull, but I can see where it would be rewarding."

The monk nodded, and a smile crossed his lips.  "It can be a little dull, but mysterious strangers showing up in the night make it more interesting."  He looked around at the simple furnishings and the beds of his fellow monks and explained, "We're a Nine Divines priory dedicated to the Order of Talos. Lord Talos teaches us to be prepared to protect his people in peace and war.  The Blades are closely linked to the Order of Talos. We both serve Talos, of course, and many of our brothers are former Blades, devoted to the divine Talos. We honor them for their dedication and devotion.  I myself was training as a Blade when I received the call to serve Talos in a different way."

"You seem more suited to the life of a monk," Elaya said with a little nod.  "I mean that in a good way, of course."

Brother Piner chuckled and nodded too.  "I understand.  And it's true... I'm not much of a warrior, but I do well here.  Chapterhouses of the Order, like Weynon Priory, provide safehouses for travelling Blades as well as our more public religious functions, so I do get to hear stories of their adventures, even if my duties tend toward the mundane.  And Blades who are too old for active service often join the Order as lay brothers.  We are honored to have Grandmaster Jauffre, or Brother Jauffre as he prefers, as a resident here.  You should hear the stories he has to tell!"

Elaya chuckled.  "He seemed a bit gruff with me, though I'm sure he's nice enough once you get to know him."

"Nice, I'm not so sure about, but interesting, certainly."

Smirking, Elaya finished the rest of her stew, and washed it down with a few deep gulps of water.  With food in her belly and the Brother's herbal remedies working their magic on her battered body, she was starting to feel halfway decent again.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"You have done so much already.  I think I need only speak to Jauffre now."

Piner smiled and nodded.  "Very well.  At this time of day he is likely in the chapel.  I will walk with you, if you like."

Elaya nodded.  "Yes, please, I would like that very much."

Brother Piner handed her a pair of new leather shoes, and she slipped them on over her bandaged feet.  He also gave her a somewhat worn, but serviceable leather and canvas pack, explaining that he had placed a few items given to him by Brother Jauffre in it for her.  He helped her adjust the straps to fit her, and then held her arm gently and helped her down the stairs.  She found, though, she had little need for his assistance.  His ministrations had been quite helpful already, and despite the pain she had awoken with, she felt no worse now than after a day of hard work on the farm.

"Ah!  I almost forgot," he said, and ran back up the stairs.  He returned a moment later holding leather-bound book.  Inscribed on the cover was The Warp In The West.  "I thought you might like to have this.  A bit of history relating to the Blades, and an interesting, if confusing read.  I think you would find it interesting."

She ran her hand over the cover and then looked back up at him and smiled.  "Thank you, Brother Piner.  I am quite curious about the Blades, and something to read when resting my feet on my long journey to Kvatch will be very nice.  You are very kind."

They walked together out to the chapel as she tucked the book into the old pack.  The morning sun was bright and warm on her face, the sky clear and cloudless.  A good day to start the next part of her journey.

Brother Piner opened the door of the chapel for her, and nodded to her.  "I should see to my duties.  Good luck to you, Elaya."

"Thank you for everything, Brother Piner.  You are truly kind."

With that, they parted, and Elaya entered the priory chapel.  It was small, but well lit, the sunlight filtering in through the blue glass windows that covered the walls.  There were a few rows of simple benches, with a center aisle leading to an altar with flowers and offerings.  Jauffre was seated upon one of the benches, his head bowed, deep in thought or meditation.

She lowered her gaze, and walked to the altar, kneeling on the stool before it.  Silently, she offered a prayer of thanks to the Divines, and asked them to protect her, and the Emperor’s heir.

As she opened her eyes, she realized she had no offering for this most important prayer.  Except…  She pulled the traveling pack and opened it, looking inside.  Among the scrolls, potions, and carefully wrapped packets of food, she discovered a short silver dagger, mostly made for eating.  Pulling it from its sheathe, she tested the tip and found it wickedly sharp.  She held her left hand over the altar, and slid it lightly over the fleshy heel of her thumb.  There was almost no pain as her skin opened and bright red blood welled from the cut.  She held her hand over the altar, and allowed nine drops to fall on the white stone.  Then, she held her hand to her mouth, and placed the dagger back in her pack.

When she stood and turned, Jauffre was looking at her, his eyes calm and cool.  "You are religious."  It was not a question.

"Yes," she replied.  "I revere the Divines.  For a time, I considered becoming an acolyte of Kynareth, but… it was not to be.  But I still make offerings, and visit the Wayshrines whenever I can.  Only a fool angers or ignores the Nine."

"Then perhaps it is no accident that fate has chosen you for this task.  I know the Emperor would not have chosen you himself were you not worthy.  I don’t know how this will all play out… but something tells me that we could hope for no better than you."

"Thank you, Brother Jauffre.  You flatter me."

"I see that you are clean and dressed, and have the pack I instructed Brother Piner to give to you.  You will find the items within of use to you on your journey, I hope.  You should speak to Prior Maborel before you go as he may also be able to help."

"I will, yes.  Thank you.  I had a few questions before I go, though."

"I will do my best to answer, but you should leave soon, before the day warms too much.  It is no short journey to Kvatch from here, and much of it is uphill."

"I understand, Brother, but if I am to do this, I would like to know a bit more about all of this."

"Very well," he said.  "What would you like to know?"

"Well…"  She thought a moment.  "Surely the Elder Council can rule in the Emperor’s stead.  I know the heir must be found before the enemy, but is it so urgent that we cannot gather more of the Blades for the task?  I am but one person, and no soldier.  I’m not even a very good alchemist."

"The Elder Council rules in the Emperor's absence, by ancient tradition.  Chancellor Ocato heads the Elder Council and is the closest thing the Empire has to a leader right now.  The Blades answer only to the Emperor, though. We are not an arm of the government.  I am a Grandmaster of the Blades and can command them, but the new Emperor must be crowned to relight the Dragonfires.  Ocato cannot do that.  Only Martin can now.  And it must be done soon.  From what you say, the Emperor sensed a great danger before he died, and it all hinges on the Amulet of Kings and his heir.  We cannot wait to muster a larger force.  You must go now."

"And the Amulet will be safe here?"

"The Amulet may not be truly safe anywhere now, but it will be safest here with me. When you return with Martin, we will figure out our next move."

"How do I convince Martin to come with me?  It’s not as if I am one of the Blades myself… or that my story even sounds plausible."

"He never knew that he was Uriel Septim's son.  It may take some convincing to get him to believe you.  But you must convince him, and bring him safely back here."

"Yes, Brother.  I will try."

"Do you have any more questions?"

"Many, but they can wait, and I don’t know if you have the answers.  I don’t know if anyone does."

"In time, all will become clear, I am sure.  Right now, only action is important, not understanding."

"Thank you for your help, Brother Jauffre.  I will find Prior Maborel, and be on my way."

"Good. Waste no time.  You must find Martin before the enemy does."

Elaya looked down at her hands.  They seemed so small, so helpless.  Slowly, she nodded.  "I will do what I must."

She left the chapel, and went looking for Prior Maborel.  He hadn’t been in the main building or the chapel, and the grounds were small, so he likely was around the back, past a small archway.  She found him in the stables, raking the hay.  The air was thick with the smell of manure, horse, and hay, and she sneezed.  Maborel turned and smiled at her, setting his rake against the side of the stable.

"Ah, I was wondering when you’d turn up.  Jauffre asked if I could help with your little trip at all, and I told him I could."  He gestured behind him, to the three horses in the stable.  The furthest one, a brown-eyed paint, inclined its head to Elaya and snorted as it saw her.

"You are welcome to take my horse. I rarely travel, so I'm sure you will put her to better use than I.  She should make your trip much quicker."

Elaya was speechless.  Horses were worth a small fortune, and even on her aunt’s relatively prosperous farm, they had only ever been able to afford one skinny, knock-kneed plow nag.  The three horses in the stable were all small, but they glowed with health and life.

"Mine is the one on the end, the paint.  Name’s Dybia.  She’s got some spirit to her, but don’t be afraid to rein her hard or she’ll never respect you.  Once she learns you won’t take any of her tricks, she’ll warm to you.  She was freshly shod last week, and she’s all fed, and I’ve got her saddled and bridled for you, plus some saddlebags.  Your sword’s in there, and she’s ready to go."  There was a hint of sadness in his voice.  He would be sorry to see his horse go.

Elaya stood, holding the strap of her pack, looking at the paint horse, who stomped and seemed to almost glare at her.  She shifted uneasily.  "Um.  Well I hope she won’t be too much trouble.  I can ride, but I’m sure not good at it."

Maborel chuckled, and guided Dybia out of the stables, tugging at the reins as the stubborn horse preferred to remain in the shade.  "You’ll get the hang of it.  Just be tough with her, and hold on."

He held the reins as Elaya gripped the saddle’s pommel and placed her foot in one stirrup.  Her muscles protested as she swung herself up onto the saddle, her pack swinging around to smack her in the side.  She grunted and wriggled to seat herself properly and then readjusted her pack.  Maborel suppressed a smirk and lifted the reins over Dybia’s head to hand them to Elaya.  She took them and tried to smile, but the nervousness at being on a horse made it more a strained grimace.

"You’ll be fine!"  Maborel said, but he still looked like he was trying not to laugh.  "Go on, now.  Jauffre wouldn’t tell me what you were doing, but I’m sure it’s important.  Good luck to you, girl."

Elaya gave Dybia a soft thump in the sides with her heels.  The horse stayed put.  Elaya tried a bit harder, and Dybia turned her head, trying to bite at Elaya’s legs.  She could hear Maborel laughing but she set her jaw, slapped the reins against Dybia’s neck, and jabbed the horse hard with both heels.  Dybia leapt forward, and, surprised, Elaya jerked back on the reins, and Dybia whinnied in annoyance and skidded to a stop.  Elaya reddened and then tried again, this time giving her a sharp tap with her heels, but prepared for her burst of speed – and confused when Dybia merely began to slowly lope along.

But at least she was moving, and it was about the speed Elaya was prepared to handle at the moment, so she turned and gave the still-chuckling Brother Maborel a wave and a smile, and steered Dybia toward the road, heading back the way she’d come.

The worst part of being imprisoned in the Imperial City was not the cell, or the filth, or the food, but the quiet.  The cold stone walls silenced all sound from the outside world. Elaya could often hear only her own breath and heartbeat.  The Dunmer prisoner in the cell across the hall mostly slept.

Elaya sat crosslegged in the niche on the wall, a small shelf with a mat which served as a bed.  She held a cupped handful of pebbles in her palm, collected from the floor of the cell, stirring them with her fingertip.  Every now and then, she would toss one at the rusted iron shackles hanging from the ceiling near the door, trying to hit one shackle so it would swing into the next.

She had told Lucian that a hands-on alchemy demonstration in the market district would be risky, that the magicians of the Arcane University would not tolerate unguilded alchemists operating in their capital city.  Lucian had only been studying alchemy for a short time, and the mage's guild in Bruma had refused to accept him until he could show greater proficiency.  But Lucian had insisted he knew what he was doing, and that they could raise funds selling minor potions to residents of the Imperial City, to fund further research and to buy more books.  It would be profitable if it succeeded, and Lucian was family, so she had reluctantly agreed.

Once the fire started, Lucian ran, and Elaya was left to deal with the fire.  She had been trying to remember how to cast an aura of frost on the burning stack of crates where they'd set up the equipment... and then she was roughly grabbed from behind.  The guards didn't seem to care that it had been Lucian's idea, that she was just coming along as a favour, that he had started the fire.  Despite her protests, they dragged her off to the prison, to this dank, dirty little cell.

There were human bones in the corner.  She tried not to look at them, or think about them.

After four days, she was starting to get worried.  She kept herself calm singing softly. Her high, clear voice echoed off the damp stone walls.

"Strong Warrior charges, Steed prancing, Lady dancing, Lord advancing... through the night.  Wise Mage orders, Apprentice learning, Ritual turning, Golem burning... through the night. Clever Thief watches, Lover sighing, Shadow lying, Tow'r defying, through the night...  The Serpent threatens, pursuing the others, Guardians and their Charges, through the night..."

And when she got bored, she threw pebbles at the shackles, to make them spin and clink together, trying to play a song with the tone of the rocks bouncing off the rusting iron.  The Dunmer across the hall complained bitterly at the "terrible cacophony" she made with the pebbles and shackles, and he'd mocked her and called her names when she'd tried to speak to him, cursed her for being a Breton, and mocked the magic that flowed within the veins of her people.  But he quieted his complaining when she sang.

He had told her she was going to die in here, and every time her gaze fell upon the bones in the corner, she feared he might be right.  All because she had done a stupid favour for her clumsy idiot cousin who made a bad plan worse by dropping the fire salts.

She threw the last pebble she had and it clattered to the floor, rolling into a small pile of filthy straw in the corner.  Then it was quiet again... until she heard voices.

"... only that they were attacked," said a stern woman's voice.  There were footsteps, and they were growing louder, getting closer.

"So... they're dead.  I knew it."  The second voice was the quavering yet strong timbre of an older man's voice, barely audible.

The footsteps grew closer, and a guard appeared in the hallway, and stood in front of the door to Elaya's cell.  Elaya unfolded her legs, stood up and walked to the door of the cell, pressing her face against the bars, trying to see out.  Had they come to let her out? Had this stupid mess finally been straightened out?  Perhaps Lucian had returned to confess it had been his fault all along.

A second guard appeared in the hallway behind the first, and beside her, a man, dressed in fine red and purple robes, trimmed with white fur.  A huge, glinting crimson jewel hung at his throat, and Elaya's eyes widened.  The Amulet of Kings... the Emperor!

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits!"  The female guard scowled, gesturing to Elaya.

The other guard stammered.  "U-usual mix-up at the Watch, I guess--"

She cut him off.  "Nevermind.  Get that gate open."  Then, she fixed her gaze on Elaya.  "Stand back, prisoner.  He won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

The male guard seemed encouraged by this.  He pointed at Elaya, and commanded, "You!  Prisoner!  Stand aside, over by the window.  Stay out of the way and you won't get hurt."

Elaya looked from one guard to the other, then to the emperor.  "Wait, what's going on?  Has Lucian talked to you?"

The guard fumbled with the key in the lock.  "Prisoner, stand away from the door.  Over by the window, now!"

Elaya stumbled back, bumping into the small table in the cell, knocking over the stoneware cup on its surface and knocking it onto the floor.  She backed against the wall as the guard entered the cell.

In the hall, she noticed another guard run up, breathless. "No sign of pursuit," he said.

"Good, let's go," said the female guard.  "We're not out of this yet."  She led the way into the cell, followed closely by the emperor.  The third guard remained at the door, watching the hall.  They were definitely guards.  That was plain to see by the way they acted and moved.  But they weren't wearing the armor of the city guard.  Theirs was more elaborate, with touches of gold and blue, their helmets flared out at the bottom like an open flower.

"Stay put, prisoner!" The guard in the cell pointed to the ground in front of Elaya's feet.

Elaya pressed herself harder against the wall, and pleaded with him, "Won't you tell me what's happening?"

The Emperor approached, and turned to look at Elaya.  He stopped, and stared at her, narrowing his eyes.  "You... I've seen you."

He took a step closer, peering at Elaya.  "Let me see your face...  You are the one from my dreams."  He sighed with resignation. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day.  Gods give me strength."

Elaya looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.  "Please... What's going on?"

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next.  My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route.  By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

"You... you're the emperor, aren't you?" Elaya's voice shook.  She was in the presence of a man more legend than flesh.  Divine blood flowed through his veins.

"Yes.  I am your emperor, Uriel Septim.  By the grace of the Gods, I serve Tamriel as her ruler."  The faintest of smiles passed his lips, then was gone.  "You are a citizen of Tamriel, and you, too, shall serve her in your own way."

"Forgive me, Emperor, but I do not belong here... I was merely helping my cousin and things got out of hand... I am blameless, sire, but nobody will listen!"

"Perhaps the Gods have placed you here so that we may meet.  As for what you have done... it does not matter.  That is not what you will be remembered for."

"Remembered for?  Respectfully, I am nobody, sire.  What am I to do to be remembered?"

"You will find your own path... Take care.  There will be blood and death before the end."  He laced his fingers and folded his hands against his robe.

Elaya blinked, shaking her head.  "I don't understand..."

The female guard stepped closer to the emperor's side.  "Please, sire, we must keep moving."  She pushed one of the stones in the wall next to the sleeping platform, and to Elaya's amazement, the platform slid down into the floor, and the wall of the niche swung back.  "Better not close this one.  There's no way to open it from the other side," she said, before walking through the dusty opening, the emperor following behind her.

"Looks like this is your lucky day," said the other guard from the hallway, who had joined them in the cell as he passed.  "Just stay out of our way."

"I'm watching you," said the other guard before he jogged to catch up.

Elaya watched them as they faded into the dust of the dark passageway beyond.  She looked down at her feet, at the bones that littered the floor of the cell, and then hurried to join them.

The dirt tunnel led into a ruined catacomb of arched columns crumbling to rubble.  She followed the group to a set of stone stairs leading down.

The guard from the hallway put an arm out to stop her, and turned to look at her over his shoulder.  He was a Redguard, and his dark brown eyes flashed as he gave her a stern warning.  "Stay out of the way and stay quiet."  He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly and then lowered his arm to let her pass.

Elaya nodded silently, swallowing hard.  She walked along after them, trying to stay quiet, to remain unnoticed.  They walked through a tunnel and turned a corner into a pillar-lined gallery.

The female guard shouted, "Protect the emperor!" and there came the sound of blades being drawn from up ahead.  Elaya stopped, shrinking back into the hallway, and watched as the guards rushed forward into the gallery, hacking at a figure in a red hood and shining black armor.

Elaya noticed the emperor at her side, standing ready with a small blade.  He looked old and frail, and so tired.  "Protect yourself," he said softly, turning to look at her.

"How?"  Elaya looked around for anything to wield as a weapon...

"However you can, child."

The guards pushed the attacker onto a staircase, out of her sight, but she could hear the sound of crashing blades, and then a cry.

"The captain's down!" shouted one of the guards.  There was the sound of swords clanking against armor, the grunts of men fighting, and then finally, the two male guards came rushing back toward the emperor and Elaya.  They sheathed their swords.

"Are you all right, sire?  We're clear for now."  The Redguard asked the emperor as the Imperial scouted ahead.

"Captain Renault?" asked the emperor, a tone of dread in his voice.

"She's dead," the Redguard replied.  The emperor's face was stony.  "Sorry, sire, but we have to keep moving."

The emperor turned back to Elaya as the Redguard walked away.  "There's trouble ahead," he said, and walked through the gallery to a metal door where the guards waited.

Elaya followed, looking down at the bodies of their attackers on the ground.  They wore blood red robes and hoods, no trace of the shining black armor remaining.  At the end of the gallery, near the door, lay the body of the female guard, Captain Renault.  She was face down in the hall, and the Emperor stood over her body, looking down at her.

"I'll take point," said the Imperial, opening the metal door with a loud creak.

The emperor followed him as the Redguard lagged behind again, and turned to Elaya.  "You stay here, prisoner.  Don't try to follow us."

"Wait, what?  No, I can't stay here...  I don't even know where here is!"  But her protests were ignored as he walked away.  Elaya gaped in horror as they walked through the metal door, through a short passageway, and then through another door, and locked it behind them.

"Hey!"  She cried out as she heard the second door latch and their footsteps walking away.  She ran into the passageway and pounded on the door with her fists.  "Hey!  Don't leave me here!"

She sank back against the door.  She could see the bodies of one of the assassins and Captain Renault from where she was.  There was blood splattered across one wall.  Captain Renault's weapon was still clutched in her hand, the blade crimson-stained with more blood.

She heard a low scuffling sound from the gallery, and then a sharp squeak.  Elaya crept forward on her hands and knees, peering around the corner.

Two huge rats sniffed at the corpse of one of the assassins.  They were dark brown, the size of dogs, with shining black eyes.  Elaya recoiled as one of them sank its long yellow incisors into the slain assassin's cheek, ripping away a chunk of flesh, leaving the dead man's teeth exposed.  The other rat nosed its way under the assassin's sleeve and began gnawing at his wrist and forearm.

Elaya crouched frozen at the end of the small hallway.  They were no more than a half dozen paces from her.  One or two quick leaps and they would be upon her...  but they seemed distracted for the moment with the body of the red-robed assassin.

Her eyes fell again upon Captain Renault's weapon.  The finely-made katana wasn't far.  She just had to crawl forward a little and then she could reach out and touch the end of the blade.  Carefully, she edged toward it, moving slowly, deliberately, no sudden movements.  She kept her eyes on the rats, who didn't seem to notice her, until her fingers fell upon the metal of the katana, sticky with blood.  She slid her touch up the dull side of the blade until she could grasp it, and she pulled.  But the blade was slippery, and Captain Renault did not wish to relinquish her weapon, even in death.  To Elaya's horror, the blade fell from her grip and clattered to the ground.

The rats looked up from their feast, blood smearing their mouths.  With a cry of fear and desperation, Elaya lunged forward, grabbing ahold of Captain Renault's wrist.  She pried away the captain's dead fingers and took the blade, turning back to the rats just as the one closest to her sprang at her.

Elaya shrieked and swung the heavy blade, squeezing her eyes shut.  A spray of hot blood painted her cheeks as the rat fell to the ground beside her, on top of the body of the captain, its throat cut cleanly, its head nearly severed from its body.  Elaya looked to the other rat, who was crouched over the body of the assassin, hissing possessively.  Elaya scrambled to her feet, pressing her back against the wall, holding the katana at her side.  She wiped her free hand against the cloth covering her hip, and then took hold of the weapon with both hands.  With a more solid grip, she stepped to the side and over the outstretched arm of Captain Renault, toward the rat.

It backed up a few paces, then rocked back on its haunches.  Elaya braced herself as the rat leapt at her.  She swung the katana, and the rat was caught in the side, opening a huge gash in its body.  With a squeal of pain, it collapsed to the floor.  It was still alive, but mortally wounded, its breathing labored, black eyes rolling.

Elaya approached it cautiously, holding the katana ready.  It didn't seem to care that she was there, but she knew better than to believe she could predict the actions of a wounded animal.  But it still paid her no mind as she pushed it over with the tip of the blade against its shoulders.  It fell onto its unwounded side with a piteous squeal, and Elaya closed her eyes as she brought the blade down against its neck, ending its suffering.

She lowered the blade and stood trembling in the echoing stone gallery, surrounded by bodies, spattered in blood.

Nobody has escaped from the Imperial Prison in over 40 years, since the days of Jagar Tharn and the Imperial Simulacrum. The words of the guard who had locked her in her cell echoed in her mind.  She had no idea what she was facing down here.

She looked around the gallery.  The rats had to have come from somewhere.  A section of wall had fallen in, and there was a pile of rubble in the corner.  Beyond the opening was another dirt tunnel.  The ceiling was low, and she had to crouch down to fit through, crawling with the katana trailing behind her.

She crept along quietly, looking constantly to her left and right for signs of danger.  The tunnel was wide, with several pillars of dirt and stone bracing the crumbling ceiling.  When her head brushed the ceiling, clods of dirt fell upon her shoulders, and she feared the whole thing might cave in if she bumped it too hard.

Soon, though, it opened into a wider chamber and she was able to straighten up.  To her right, a crumbling old well fell off into a damp, dark hole.  To her left, a shaft of light from the surface somewhere illuminated greyish-white bones.  Coming closer, Elaya could see the twisted skeletal remains of what appeared to be a fallen adventurer.  A battered shield lay at his side, and it looked like he had taken off his armor to rest when he had died.  It lay in a pile next to his shield, the old leather cracked and broken with age.  The cuirass and boots were dirty, but still serviceable.

Elaya had just managed to pull on the boots when she heard the snuffling of another rat approaching from around the corner.  She raised the katana, and this time she was ready when it lunged at her.  She stepped aside and with one slash, cleaved the rat from the air.  It fell, already dead, in a heap to her side.

She leaned the katana against the dirt wall and quickly pulled on the old leather cuirass.  It stunk of rat piss and several of the side straps had been gnawed, leaving the front and back halves to flap freely, but it was more coverage than the rags she'd been given to wear in the prison, so she fastened it on as best she could.

Taking the katana up again, she searched the area around the body.  There was a bow, and several arrows, and in a sack at his side, she found a torch and several lockpicks.  After several minutes of fumbling, she managed to open the small chest at his head with one of the lockpicks.  Inside was a small amount of gold and a small, cloudy sapphire the size of her smallest fingernail.  She looked down at the dead adventurer, who had clearly been there for a very long time.  "These do you no good in death, but perhaps they will be of some use to me.  I thank you."

And then she continued onward, past the old well.  There were cobwebs everywhere, dust everywhere, and she had to stop, doubling over as she coughed, the sound echoing through the caverns despite her best efforts to suppress it.  Gasping for breath, Elaya tore a strip from her ragged shirt and tied it over her mouth and nose to filter the air.  After four days on her body and countless days on other bodies before, the smell of the fabric was awful, but at least she could breathe.

At the end of the wide tunnel was a crooked wooden door, latched tight.  Though it appeared to barely be holding together, a few hacks at it with the katana proved its construction better than she had thought.

Near the door was the body of a goblin, wearing the skull of a ram as a helmet.  The curved horns sagged forward, his head thrown down against the pile of rubble on which he had fallen.  Reluctantly, Elaya searched the scraps of cloth covering his body and located a rusted iron key that seemed about the right size to fit the lock on the door.

She tried it, and the door clicked open.

The next room was a stone-lined cavern, the stone blocks crumbling beneath the weight of the sagging dirt above.  In a battered chest, she found a potion in a dusty green bottle.  Rubbing away at the dust, she saw it was engraved with a label that indicated it was to be applied to minor wounds for a more speedy recovery.  She pocketed the potion, thinking it could come in handy.

A wide tunnel led downward and to the right, and she stopped to examine a pile of rubble where she saw something glinting.  Before she could stand back up, two more rats came around the corner, running as fast as they could.  She scrambled to her feet and pressed her back against the wall, readying the katana... but they ran right past her, back the way she had came.  She blinked and looked back down the tunnel.  A third rat was fighting... something...  It had the shape of a man, but its low moan as it stumbled toward her was like no sound a man would utter.

And then she smelled it.  The reek of decay surrounded her.  She gagged, her stomach rolling, and clutched the katana tighter.  It was moving slowly, clumsily, and was busy lunging at the rat.  It didn't seem to notice her.  She saw her opening, and dashed past it, down the tunnel and into another room.  Yet another rat was sniffing around a crate in there, and she barely noticed it before she had ran past it.  It turned and bared its fangs at her, and she cut it down before it could make a move upon her.  Looking back up at the tunnel, she saw the undead creature coming down after her.

"May the Nine guide me," she whispered to herself, and before she could hesitate, Elaya charged forward.  With a cry, she slashed at the creature, who stumbled and tried to grasp at her.  Her swing connected at its shoulder, cleaving its arm from its body.  It seemed to take little notice, and kept coming.  Elaya yelled and slashed again, sideways, and the creature's head rolled from its shoulders.  With a sickening damp-sounding thud, its body collapsed to the ground.

Elaya stood gasping over its ruined corpse, her chest heaving, and she whipped her head around, looking for more rats, for more of those creatures, but she was alone.  She took a moment to catch her breath, laughing to herself.  She was shocked she was still alive, and as she checked over her arms and legs, she appeared to be more or less uninjured, save some bruises and scrapes.

She kept moving, wasting no time to enjoy her small victory.  She had no idea where she was going, if there even was a way out, or if she would just wander these caverns forever... or until one of the inhabitants got the better of her and she ended up like the dead man whose armor she had taken.

Her path took her into a dark room with roots hanging from the ceiling.  It looked like an old mine, the ceiling braced with heavy wood supports.  In a niche on the wall, she discovered several gold pieces, but as she was pocketing them, she felt a sharp pain in her right calf.  She turned to find a rat leaping back for its next attack.  Caught off-guard and wounded, she was slow in swinging the katana, and she fell back against the wall.  The rat came at her again, and she swung clumsily, succeeding only in driving it back from her enough that she could push herself halfway to her feet.  But it was all the advantage she needed, and a slash across its chest when it went for her brought it down.

She slumped back against the wall, pulling off her right boot, hissing through her teeth at the pain.  The rat's sharp teeth had gone right through the old leather, leaving two deep slashed punctures into the flesh and muscle of her right calf.  She ripped another strip from her shirt and pressed it against the wound.  She knew the fabric was filthy, but she had to stop the bleeding somehow.

Then she remembered the potion in her pocket.  She fished out the small green bottle and pulled out the old cork stopper, which crumbled almost instantly.  The liquid within was brown and it had a strong, sharp odor, like rotting wood.  She wondered if it hadn't gone bad, but she had no choice.  She poured a small amount on the wound.  It stung and bubbled, but then the pain faded, and after a few moments, the bleeding stopped.  She ripped off a piece of the cloth and stuffed it in the end of the bottle to save the rest, then gingerly slipped her boot back on.

It still ached deep in the wound, but it didn't begin bleeding again as she put her weight on it, and she found she was able to walk, but slower.

As she limped further into the caverns, she felt fear and doubt begin to grip her, tightening her chest, clamping down on her throat, making it harder to breathe.  She was already wounded, wearing armor of little use in an unknown and dangerous place full of horrible and hostile creatures, wielding the weapon of a dead woman when she was not a skilled swordsman.  And if there was a way out, she certainly didn't know where to find it.

Her path seemed to take her further downward, into an area of more dirt and rock than stone walls.  She noticed mushrooms growing here and there: tall, slender, pale stalks, and short, fat grey caps, clustered in the corners in damp places where the earth smelled of rot.  There was something else, like mushrooms, but pointed orange horns attached to a spongy greyish-white stalk, growing in the same areas as the mushrooms, too.  She had never seen anything like these, and she couldn't resist the urge to break one off and pocket it.  It would be an interesting alchemical sample to experiment with later, if she ever got out of here.

She came upon a small cave, and there was a campfire burning in the center.  Hanging from chains dangling from the ceiling were skulls, picked clean and bleached white, a hole drilled in the top of each to accept the chain.

"I don't think this is the right way." She whispered to herself, glancing back the way she had come.  But she knew there had been no side passage she had missed.  This was the only way.

She edged past the gruesome display and through an unlocked door into another tunnel leading down further into the unknown dark.

At the bottom of the tunnel, a pile of broken crates and barrels forced her to slow, picking her way over the twisted strapping and rotting planks of wood.  As she did, she heard footsteps from off to her left.  Crouching down, she saw the silhouette of a goblin skulking in the darkness.  Clasping the grip of the katana tightly at her side, Elaya crept forward as the goblin walked away from her, scratching at its side.  She had been unnoticed.

She followed it around a corner to its sleeping area.  A dead rat was roasting on its cooking fire.  She hadn't eaten anything but tasteless porridge for four days, and even though it was a rat, the smell was mouth-watering.  To her horror, Elaya's stomach rumbled loudly at the smell of cooking meat.  The goblin turned at the noise and screeched as it caught sight of her.  Elaya took a few steps back, then stood her ground, looking at the goblin's eyes from beneath the ram's skull helmet it wore as it sized her up.  It screeched again, and then ran at her.  She slashed quickly, twice, with the sword, opening up two huge gashes in the goblin's chest.  Its claws raked across her face as it fell forward, off to her side.

She brought her fingertips to her cheek and then looked at her palm.  It was streaked with blood, but not that much.  She took a moment to dab some of the stinging healing salve on the wound, and then moved on.

Around the corner into a tighter tunnel, the way choked with stalactites and stalagmites, she caught sight of another goblin.  But this one was armed, holding a wood buckler and a small axe.  She crouched down, hoping it had not seen her, but it was too late, and with a cry, it was running at her, holding the axe above its head, ready to hack at her.

She brought the katana up and blocked the blow, then pushed, shoving the creature back enough to allow her to swing on its next attack.  When it brought its arm wielding the axe down, she swung at its shoulder.  It howled in pain and wheeled back, dropping the axe.  It tried to block her next thrust with the buckler, but she managed to shove it back against the rock wall, throwing it off-balance, and then she drove the blade home, piercing the goblin's side.  It howled, gnashing its teeth at her in anger, and expired with a shrill scream.

Through another low overhang, and she was in a clearly well-traveled tunnel.  Crates and barrels lined one wall, though they were mostly rotted and broken, and a large bonfire crackled in a low place along the side of the tunnel.

She rounded the corner past the bonfire and saw another goblin at the bottom of a ramp. It heard her approach and croaked an attack cry as it started to run up the ramp.  To the right, a stack of logs for the fire sat at the top of the ramp.

Thinking quickly, Elaya gave the stack of logs a hard shove, and they began to roll, the stack toppling and crashing down the ramp.  She heard a gurgling groan as the clatter of falling wood stopped.  She peered through the dust to see the goblin struggling to free its trapped lower half from beneath the logs.  It clawed at them and screeched at her as she approached, but it shut its eyes when she lifted one of the smaller logs to crush its skull and end its life.

Elaya threw down the soiled log and took a moment to rest, leaning against the dirt wall.  Her leg ached and her arms were exhausted from swinging the katana.  Elaya was tall, but slender, and she was not accustomed to this sort of physical exertion.  It was only fear and adrenaline keeping her upright, so she embraced them, and kept moving.

At the bottom of the ramp, the path opened up into a wide cavern, the roof a twisted network of roots.  She could see fires burning within, and an array of skulls displayed on sticks.  A goblin guarded the entrance to the cavern, patrolling back and forth, swinging his axe with an air of authority.  She snuck up behind him and brought him down with the katana blade slid between his ribs, before he even noticed she was there.

In the center of the cavern was a low area with a bonfire burning.  A rickety gate made of woven sticks held several of the large rats.  They were fat and slow, and the goblin which sat at the edge of the pit picked his teeth with a piece of bone, seemingly unconcerned.  Over a smaller fire at the other side of the cavern, a dead rat had been mounted on a spit, being slowly turned by another goblin wearing no armor.

Elaya snuck up behind the goblin guarding the rats and swung at him with the katana, slicing into the meat of his shoulder.  He fell into the pit with a shrieking cry.  Though he drew a small iron dagger and attempted to defend himself, the rats advanced upon him, smelling his blood, and soon his cries were silenced.  But the goblin at the spit had heard, and came at her with a sharp cooking implement.  She easily stepped aside and caught him across the back with the blade.  He stumbled, and she planted the sole of her boot against his backside.  Kicking hard, she pushed him into the pit with the rats, who made short work of the second wounded goblin.

She skirted the edge of the pit, and at the far end of the cavern, she saw a third goblin.  This one was not like the rest, wearing a more elaborate ram's skull helm and a woven skirt with some sort of crude decoration around the belt.  He fixed her with a strangely-intelligent stare, and then raised a staff.  Its end had the head of a goblin, its eyes plucked out and replaced with smooth black stones.  As she watched in stunned horror, the goblin shaman muttered a few croaked words, pointed the staff at her, and fired a shocking blast that singed Elaya's eyebrows and knocked her back, almost into the cooking fire.

Shaken and stunned, it took her a moment to realize what had just happened, gasping, her body buzzing strangely.  But when she regained her wits, she charged at the shaman, slashing violently at him with the katana.  She couldn't give him a second chance to unleash his magic on her.  He drew back, trying to keep a distance from her, but she kept coming, and she drove the point of the katana through the shaman's chest, pushing him down into the pit onto the bonfire as the katana slid back out of his bony body.  As he fell, the staff slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor of the pit... right next to one of the rats.

She looked down at the hideous staff and frowned.  She hated to tamper with unknown magics, but such a powerful tool could prove useful in keeping her alive through this.  She had to take the chance.

Climbing down the rocks into the pit, she tried her best to be quiet.  The rats were quite happy feeding on the remains of their former masters.  She reached out and grasped the wooden end of the staff and then pulled, sliding it slowly toward her.  It made but the slightest scraping noise on the dirt and stone floor, but the rats took no notice.  Her prize safely in hand, Elaya clambered back up out of the pit, leaving the rats to their meal.  She slid the staff under a loop of leather on her cuirass so it could stay mostly out of the way across her back.

She took another few moments to explore the cave for any useful supplies, and finding little more than a cauldron filled with bones, Elaya looked for the exit.

Finally, the way out appeared to be leading upward, the passage heading sharply vertically to another wooden door.  She hoped the end was soon, that this way up would continue until she reached the surface and the outside world again.  Yet, on the other side, more caverns, this time looking more like the stone walls of the into which she'd first entered this terrible journey.

At the end of a long cave, there was a hole in the wall, and beyond, the familiar arched columns of the catacombs.  She was above a high stone gallery filled with rubble and cobwebs.  As she peered around the corner of the hole in the wall, trying to get a better look outside, she heard voices.  She crouched down and looked out past the columns.

"... till help arrives."

"Help?  What makes you think help will get here?"

What had been a low, murmured conversation turned to shouting.  "Here they come again!"

She heard the grunting of men fighting, and the clatter of metal on metal.  She jumped down from the hole in the wall and into the gallery, staying low, but creeping forward to get a better look.

At the bottom of a staircase leading out of the gallery, she saw the emperor!  The guards were battling more assassins in red robes.  They were victorious, and their attackers lay slain.  Elaya edged forward, trying to hear what one of them was saying to the other, and dislodged a loose stone with her foot.  It clattered down the staircase toward the guards.

Elaya scrambled back.  They'd seen her.  One of the guards advanced on her, heading up the staircase, his blade drawn.  "Dammit!  It's that prisoner again!  Kill her!  She might be working for the assassins!"

But as he saw Elaya, the emperor raised his hand.  "No!  She is not one of them.  She can help us.  She must help us."

The guard looked back at the emperor with dismay, and reluctantly, he sheathed his sword.  "As you wish, sire."  He turned away from Elaya and stepped past the emperor, leading the way out of the gallery.  The other guard kept his eyes on her.

"Come closer," said the emperor, taking a step toward Elaya.  "I'd prefer not to have to shout."

He gave her a soft, smile.  "They cannot understand why I trust you," he said.  "They've not seen what I've seen.  How can I explain?"  The emperor shook his head, and his eyes looked distant.  He looked away from her.  "Listen...  You know the Nine, how they guide our fates with an invisible hand?"

"Of course, sire.  The Nine guide and protect us."

"I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens.  The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign.  I know these stars well, and I wonder... which sign marked your birth?"

"I was born under the stars of the Thief, my emperor," Elaya replied.

The emperor nodded, thinking on this for a moment, then continued.  "The signs I read show the end of my path.  My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"Sire, why are you telling me this?  I don't understand.... what do I have to do with this?"

"Your stars are not mine.  Today, the Thief shall guide your steps on the road toward destiny."  There was something wistful in his eyes as he nodded at her.  Something benevolently paternal in the way he smiled softly at her.  He reminded Elaya of her grandfather, who she remembered only a little, but she knew he had been kind to her.

"You aren't afraid to die?" She asked softly.

"No trophies of my triumphs precede me.  But I have lived well, and my ghost will rest easy.  Men are but flesh and blood.  They know their doom, but not the hour.  In this, I am blessed to see the hour of my death...  To face my apportioned fate, then fall."

"Can you see my fate?"

"My dreams grant me no opinion of success.  Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death.  But in your face, I behold the sun's companion.  The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness.  With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied."

She glanced at the guards, who were clearly growing impatient with the emperor's chat with this wayward and unwanted prisoner.  "Where are you going?"

"I go to my grave.  A tongue shriller than all the music calls me.  You shall follow me yet for a while.  Then, we must part."

He lay a hand upon her shoulder and looked into her eyes.  "Come with us.  Your destiny is bound up with mine, and with the fate of Tamriel itself."

The emperor turned and walked toward his guards, leaving Elaya standing there in the gallery, wearing the armor of a dead man and a confused frown.

The Redguard stepped past the emperor and approached Elaya.  She shrank back, preparing for another stern warning.  "You may as well make yourself useful.  Here.  Carry this torch, and stick close."  He looked her up and down and smirked.  "Looks like you've found a few things while you were elsewhere.  Resourceful little thing, aren't you?  You'll need it down here."

Elaya bit her lip and looked up at the Redguard, but said nothing.  She lit the torch, holding it aloft.  For the time being, she kept the captain's blade ready, too.  She felt better in the company of the emperor's guard, but she didn't know what to expect... and she had a feeling that they didn't, either.  There was an eerie calm as they made their way through the catacombs.

"You... you are one of the Blades?" she said as she followed closely behind the Redguard.

The Redguard nodded.  "We're the emperor's bodyguard.  It's our job to get him out of a situation like this.  Though... I admit, things are not going according to plan."

"Is the emperor all right?  He seems... distant."

"My job is to make sure the emperor gets out of here alive, and I intend to do it.  We'll worry about his mental state once he's safe."  He nodded slowly, his voice softening.  "Stick close and let us do our job and you'll be all right."

They were silent then, walking quietly through the echoing stone halls.  They passed the bodies of the assassins they had slain, laying in twisted positions on the floor, their faces contorted into the agony of a violent death.  Elaya looked away, looking at the back of the emperor as they walked, his white hair illuminated by the flickering torchlight.  She had lived her whole life as a citizen of the emperor, as a subject of Uriel Septim.  Now, she was accompanying him through twisted subterranean tunnels, evading assassins that were trying to kill him.  And the emperor himself seemed sure that today was the day of his death.

She felt as if she was walking in a dream, and if it weren't for the constant ache of her calf where she had been bitten, she would have been convinced she was actually asleep, and that soon she would awaken to tell her aunt and Lucian the ridiculous dream she'd had.

She was pulled from her imaginings when another pair of assassins appeared as they entered a smaller chamber.  One immediately ran for the emperor.  And to Elaya's horror, the other one came straight at her.  She cried out and stumbled back into the hall, back the way they'd came.  She dropped the torch and ran back, but she could hear the clank of his armored footsteps close behind her.  She whirled and desperately slashed at the air with the katana.  A choked cry, and the assassin slumped to the floor.  His shining black armor and spined black mace dissolved like smoke, revealing his red robes, slit across the chest, wet with blood.

Elaya dropped the katana at her feet, her entire body shaking.  She had killed goblins and rats, but she had never killed a man before.  He would have killed her, she knew.  But she had killed him.  He lay dead now, on the floor of this hall because of what she had done.  She felt tears welling in her eyes.   The emperor made a beckoning gesture.  "Come, child.  It's all right."

Still trembling, she slowly reached down and forced herself to pick up the katana and the torch again, and rejoined the emperor and his guards.

The Redguard caught her gaze and gave her a quick nod of approval.  Without a word, he led on.

The statue-lined corridor they entered next was dark, and there was the sound of dripping water from somewhere.  They began to make their way down a short set of steps when the guard up ahead cried out in pain.  "Prisoner!  Protect the emperor!" shouted the Redguard as he charged forward to assist his wounded comrade.

Without thinking, Elaya dashed up to the emperor's side.  The old ruler held his small dagger tight in his hand and stood ready... but when the assassin came toward them, it was Elaya who stepped forward.  The assassin saw her and raised his mace above his head, ready to bring it down upon her.  But before he could bring down the killing blow, the Redguard came up behind the assassin and cut him down.  The mace dissolved in a shimmer, and the armor followed as the red-robed assassin fell in a heap at Elaya's feet.

The emperor turned to her and gave her an encouraging smile before the guards led on, through another wooden door into another gallery.  They had emerged onto a ledge leading down into a lower area.  As they started down the steps, the guard on point stopped them.

"Hold up.  I don't like the looks of this."  Elaya waited with the Redguard and the emperor up on the ledge while the Imperial scouted ahead.  After a moment, he returned to them and nodded.  "Looks clear.  We're almost through to the sewers."  He beckoned for them to follow, and they walked toward an iron gate at the end of the gallery.

The Imperial tried the gate.  It rattled but did not budge.  "Dammit!  The gate is barred from the other side.  It's a trap!"

"What about that side passage back there?"  asked the Redguard.

"Worth a try...  Let's go!"

Both guards drew their swords, ready for another attack.  Elaya's stomach twisted with dread.  She looked to the emperor, who wore an expression of peaceful resignation.

They passed through an open stone gate into a small side room.

"It's a dead end," said the Redguard.  "What's your call, sir?"

"They're behind us!" said the Imperial.  He turned to the emperor.  "Wait here, sire."

"Wait here with the emperor."  The Redguard turned to Elaya.  He narrowed his eyes, his voice stony with the weight of his words.  "Guard him with your life."

And then, they both charged back into the gallery.  "For the emperor!" yelled the Redguard, holding his blade aloft.

The emperor reached out and clutched at Elaya's hand.  She felt something heavy and cool pressed into her palm.  "I can go no further," he said, a deep sadness crossing his eyes.  "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants.  He must not have the Amulet of Kings!"

She looked down at the shining amulet in her hand and then looked up at him, shaking her head in disbelief.  Before she could protest, he continued.  "Take the amulet.  Give it to Jauffre.  He alone knows where to find my last son."

There was such an earnestness in the emperor's eyes that it brought tears to her eyes looking upon him.  He clasped her hand tightly, covering the Amulet of Kings with his palm.  "Find him... and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

She didn't understand, and she opened her mouth to ask him what he meant... when a niche in the wall behind him slid back.  One of the red-hooded assassins emerged, wielding a glinting sword.  The assassin charged at the emperor, and with one blow, the emperor was cut down, crumpling into a heap in his fine robes without a sound.

"No!" Elaya cried, lunging at the assassin with the katana, slashing wildly, screaming at him in sorrow and rage.  She struck him once, twice, and then he fell to the ground beside the body of the emperor.

Elaya collapsed to her knees at the emperor's side, dropping the katana with a clatter.  The Redguard ran back in, having heard the commotion, and dropped to his knee beside his fallen master. "No," he hushed, shaking his head.  "Talos save us."

He closed his eyes and looked away, clutching at the hem of the emperor's robes.  "We failed.  I failed.  The Blades are sworn to protect the emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead."  Suddenly, panic crossed his face.  "The Amulet!  Where is the Amulet of Kings?  The emperor isn't wearing it..."

Elaya still clutched the gem in her hand, slick with her sweat and the emperor's blood.  "The... the emperor gave it to me," she stammered.   She was shaking.  Here she was, holding the Amulet of Kings, beside the body of the slain Emperor, her blade bloodied.  She felt her stomach clench with fear when the Redguard narrowed his eyes at her.

"Strange," he said.  "He saw something in you.  Trusted you.  They say it's the Dragon Blood that flows through the veins of every Septim.  They see more than lesser men."

Elaya looked down at the amulet clutched in her hand and let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.  Even stained as it was, the Amulet still glinted brightly in the dim light of the chamber.  The Redguard caught sight of it and nodded.  "The Amulet of Kings is a sacred symbol of the Empire.  Most people think of the Red Dragon Crown, but that's just a piece of jewelry.  The Amulet has power.  Only a true heir of the Blood can wear it, they say.  He must have given it to you for a reason.  Did he say why?"

"I must take it to Jauffre, he said."

"Jauffre?  He said that?  Why?"

"There is another heir."

The Redguard snorted, but then nodded.  "Nothing I ever heard about... But Jauffre would be the one to know.  He's the Grandmaster of my order... although you may not think so to meet him.  He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

"How do I get there?" Elaya asked.

"First, you need to get out of here.  Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate.  That's where we were heading.  It's a secret way out of the Imperial City.  Or... it was supposed to be secret."  He looked down at the body of the emperor, sadness painted across his dark features.

"Here," he said, reaching out his closed palm to her.  "You'll need this key for the last door into the sewers."

"The sewers?"  Elaya wrinkled her nose, but took the key.

"There are rats and goblins down there.  But from what I've seen of you, I think you can handle it.  Rats and goblins won't give you any trouble."

"After the sewers, then what?"

"You must get the Amulet to Jauffre.  Take no chances, but proceed immediately to Weynon Priory.  Got it?"

"Yes, I understand," Elaya said, nodding.

"Good," he replied.  "The emperor's trust was not misplaced."

"What about you?  What will you do?"

The Redguard looked around.  "I'll stay here and guard the emperor's body, and make sure nobody follows you.  You'd better get moving.  May Talos guide you."

He looked at the katana she held in her hands.  "By the way, thanks for recovering Captain Renault's sword.  I'll see that it is given a place of honor in the hall of Blades."

He took the katana from her grasp, though she did not wish to relinquish it.  "Wait, please, this is my only weapon..."

He looked down at the katana.  "This is an Akaviri katana, the weapon of a Blade.  You are not worthy of this weapon, however much faith the emperor had in you.  Here.  You can have my secondary sword.  It is more suited for someone of your size, anyway..."

He unsheathed an iron shortsword and handed it to her.  It was shorter than the katana, but it felt much slower, less precise.  There was no whistle as it sliced through the air.  But it would have to do.  She nodded her thanks to him and tucked the Amulet of Kings beneath her cuirass, pressing it up against her chest where she could not lose it.  She knew she could not slip its fine golden chain around her neck, but it felt wrong to just stuff it in her pocket.

She extinguished the torch and made her way through the passage he had indicated.  A few rooms in, she unlocked a door using the key he'd given her, and she found herself in a small, damp room with a metal circle covering the entrance to the sewers at her feet.

With a grunt, she pushed aside the heavy cover, and descended into the dark.

The sewer smelled... about like what one would expect the sewer for the largest city in all Cyrodiil to smell.  The reek was powerful, but with the things that Elaya had already smelled today, it was merely yet another unpleasant thing to deal with.  She made her way slowly down the rusted iron bars to the bottom of the ladder and stepped off on to the slippery stone ledge.

The water of the sewer ran in a channel down the center of the tunnel with a narrow walkway on either side.  Occasionally, stone bridges crossed the water, offering passage from one side to the other.  She moved slowly but deliberately, peering around corners before going ahead.  Everywhere, there were rats, and she caught several goblins by surprise, but the Redguard had been right...  There was nothing she couldn't easily handle.  Even with her calf still aching, even with her arms as tired as they were, it did not take her long to make her way through the sewers, trying several locked doors, exploring several dead ends before discovering the correct route.  It wasn't terribly hard, either... she just chose the path that smelled the least horrible.

And then finally, she saw it...  at the end of a metal grate in a circular tunnel... daylight.  The way out.

She placed her hand over her chest, where she felt the Amulet of Kings beneath her cuirass.  The emperor should have been the one seeing this little circle of bright hope at the end of the tunnel.  Instead he was lying dead in an old dusty catacomb, and now she... Elaya Sheran, a Breton nobody, was the only hope for saving the empire.  Something had gone horribly wrong... she knew it, deep within her heart which pounded against the Amulet as she opened the iron gate and walked blinking into the daylight, and into her destiny.