Brother’s keeper
by Ioan Alexandru


27th Last Seed,3E 435

Grey clouds blanketed the sky as far as the eye could see and a cold wind began to blow as a lone figure made his way slowly up the grassy hill.Behind him,nearly out of sight,lay fair Anvil with its great stony walls and golden rooftops basking in the last fleeting rays of sunlight.Ahead of him,looming above the hills in all of its decrepit glory stood faltering Crowhaven casting its long,ominous shadow.

Our hero stopped for a moment after taking his last steps up the hill and  as he looked around himself he sighed briefly and shaking his head as if to wake himself from a bad dream he drew the claymore he had be wearing on his back.The blade was long and well-crafted from the finest steel to be had,the edges and tip were coated in pure silver and as he ran his hand across the weapon it flashed with crimson magicka.

“Hope you’re worth the trouble”,he mumbled under his breath as he rested the sword on his right shoulder.He had been warned about the perils of the long-forgotten ruin that towered above the hills and he had taken the advice to heart;one does not make a living as a sell-sword if one does not take heed of the words that reach his ears.In fact,one does not live very long at all if he is not careful of whom he deals with.

The thoughts running through his mind made our hero lose focus and he knew such a thing he could not afford while treading the darkened halls beneath Crowhaven.The place had a reputation to it,especially in the sort of crowds he had been spending his time in recently.

“A bloody vampire nest,no pun intended...”,he remembered one particularly chubby Breton telling him.The man was supposed to be a wizard of sorts,quite the master of Destruction as the word went by but his face as he was told his story about the old fort was something our hero would not soon forget.Trembling and sweating like a thief being chased by the Guard,the Breton spoke in a voice that betrayed mortal fear about horrors from beyond the grave and their undead masters.Many adventurers had braved Crowhaven in search of gold and treasure but very few had made it out alive;even fewer managed to do so without turning into one of the gaunt devils themselves.Those that died were the lucky ones...

Overwhelmed by the myriad of thoughts and memories,our hero was scarcely aware of his surroundings.Night was falling fast and with it the creatures that called it home began their prowling in the shadows.A wolf’s howling,distant but no less chilling drew our hero’s mind back to the present,making him painfully aware of his surroundings.He had lost so much precious time musing about the perils he would face that he had lost what little advantage the fading sun had given him.

“Better late than never...”,he sighed as he looked at the moonlit path ahead of him coiling up towards Crowhaven and took his first uneasy steps along it.The way was trecherous and the hill steep but soon enough our hero was standing in the ruined threshold that used to be the entrance to the fort.The sight was a desolate one:large pieces of masonry thrown here and about,statues mutilated and robbed of their beauty of old... and there was another thing,an aroma that was distinct yet somewhat familiar to our hero although try as he might he could not place it nor remember anything related to it.It was almost sweet and awkwardly alluring and in any other place or time he would have found it refreshing but here in the shadow of decrepit Crowhaven it simply added to the weight  pressing  heavily on his broad shoulders.

Our hero looked and listened for a while yet,not willing to commit to the smallest of actions without becoming thoroughly aware of every detail  of what lay around him.He had wasted precious sunlight with idle daydreaming,he would not allow his mission to turn into a nightmare.After a few more moments of observation and being content with  what he had put to memory,the hero decided the time to descend into the musty bowels had finally come.His way was obvious to him and it had not required painstaking observation for him to know this.No legionnaire,not even those who would rather forget their time as one could fail to remember the two doors,wooden and reinforced with iron,that stood like twin guardians at the entry into the underworld.Boldly he strode towards them,sword in hand and muscles tense,ready to once again carve his way through the belly of the earth.

Mind set to battle,the sound of cracking bone coming from the shadows around him served only as a reminder that his path was true and worthy of protection from beyond the grave.Two mishapen shapes lumbered their way from either side,pale moolight illuminating eyeless sockets and vengeful weapons held in fleshless hands.With a wicked grin,our hero threw himself into the fray.The skeletons swung their weapons with unholy strength and speed but our hero was quicker still and like a panther striking from the shadows,his blade struck true.Aiming for their joints and dodging their clumsy attacks,he quickly had his way with them,turning the menacing monsters into harmless piles of bones and dust.

Spitting spitefuly on the bones of his would-be assailants,he stepped over them,crushing the remains beneath his boot and with a mighty pull he swung open the two large doors,revealing the entrance to the blackened depths of Crowhaven.Before him now lay as silent as a grave an endless expanse of gloom and shadow where the air itself so poisoned and stale that not even a man with lungs of steel  could breathe. Undaunted,our hero took from the pack he had been carrying a small phial that glowed as he took it to his lips and drank it in one gulp.He waited a few moments,hoping that the shady-looking pawn shop owner that sold him the potion had not swindled him but soon enough he could feel and see it working.The darkness around him seemed to melt away as if a dark blue river was flooding his vision,replacing the gloomy veil with blue-tinted hue.

“One less man on the list”,our hero thought to himself,content with the notion of not having to hunt down yet another purveyor of life-threatening shoddy merchandise.Armed with this refreshed confidence in human morality,a map he had been supplied with by his “employer”  and his silver-coated claymore he began his descent into brooding Crowhaven,thus entering the most important part of his quest.His goal was surely set and in his mind’s eye the way towards it was made clear.The cup would be his and his brother’s life secured.At least that’s what the deal had been when he made it with the Thieves Guild.He knew not to be trusting with their type but he had had no choice:face the perils of Crowhaven,get his prize and MAYBE get out alive or SURELY be left alone in the world.His brother was the last good thing he had in his life and he was worth fighting for,worth facing death and even dying for.There had been no real choice after all.He had agreed to the deal the instant he heard it.

Our hero now moved with purpose and great speed,traversing the ancient tunnels beneath the earth as if they had been his childhood playground.Old traps and hidden pitfalls proved far less than a match for his wit and skill as they soon found themselves disarmed or surmounted with impecable ease.There was one thing however that gnawed at the back of his mind and continued to do so in spite of all his efforts to subdue it:he had not been waylaid by any fiend since he had done battle with the skeletons.He had been led to believe that Crowhaven was a fortress of evil,insurmountable and thick with unholy creatures yet what he had found so far was an empty shell with nothing but gloom and a couple of pathetic  guardians to watch over it.Something was indeed wrong with that old fort and it wasn’t the presence of evil.Such a mystery was worthy of research and exploration but these were things that he had neither the prowess for nor  time to invest in.Alas,like many of the other luxuries of life such as reading or writing,exploration would have to wait its turn for now was time of action.

After much dungeon delving his prize was finally in sight.He now stared across a walkway several feet above the floor beyond which the map said lay an officer’s quarters where the cup he seeked had been secretly stashed many years ago.Confident and overjoyed that he would  finally complete  his quest,our hero paid little heed to the sound of a tile sinking beneath his boot just as a log filled with rusted spikes was let loose from the ceiling.Dazed and caught mortally unprepared,our hero made a desperate gamble for his life:he jumped off the walkway,sending his body out of harm’s way just in the nick of time and crashing unto the floor below.

Battered and bruised,he found himself lying on the floor he had been looking down on just moments ago.He tried to remember what had happened,wondering whether he had passed out and if so for how long.Crowhaven had just reaffirmed it’s perils,he could not afford unconciousness in such a place.His mind raced to put his surroundings into perspective,trying desperatly to ascertain  where danger could come from and where—his weapon!Our hero cursed his foul luck as he found himself to be defenseless.Summoning what strength he still had,he got himself up slowly and with great pain.No matter what had happened to him he would not let his brother down,he would get the cup for the thieves if even with his last breath.One step at time,he continued his quest,gritting his teeth,beating back pain.A flight of stairs to his right held the most promise of getting him back to the upper floor and so he forced himself despite the agony to climb it.

Step after agonising step,he made his way up,his mind steeling his body,fighting back nerve-numbing pain.At long last,after wading through an ocean of suffering he once again felt his prize within reach.The sturdy,wooden door of the officer’s quarters lay beckoning before him.Smiling bitterly,he pushed it open to reveal a sordid,crumbling  room.Roots and tendrils from trees up above had dug their way into the ceiling and on the far side a wall had all but collapsed.Despite all of this,our hero could not see anything else but wreckage from times passed long ago:a shattered table and some things resembling chairs,a broken old bed,a few pieces of wood made up something that might once have been a desk but very little else and certainly no chests fit for holding treasure.

Despair  slowly wormed its way into our hero’s mind and his heart began to falter as he walked around the room,searching with mad hope for anything,the slightest clue that his prize might indeed still be there.So consumed was he in his frantic scrutiny that he barely heard the noise of footsteps converging on the room.It was only when a voice,familiar and yet distant,called out to him as if from beyond death’s threshold that he finally woke from his stupour:

“It is not here.The thing you seek,the cup,you won’t find it in this room.”

Our hero did not answer at first,believing it was only the doubt in his mind that spoke,but just then a strange aroma,the very same he had experienced before  entering the fort began to take over his senses and as it did he turned towards the doorway and caught sight of someone he never thought he would have encountered in such a place.

“It’s really me.”,the figure spoke reassuringly.

“But h-how can this be?By what magic have you come to this place?How do you know of what I search?”

The figure did not answer,instead he entered the room and to our hero’s continued bewielderment six other figures followed,five heavily armed and armoured and one hooded and robed.Although he could not see their faces,our hero felt malice was upon them and as he did he once again cursed the luck that had robbed him of his sword.

“Fear not my men,they are not here to harm you.”

“It’s not their blows I fear but the stench of your bug musk.Still buying beauty secrets from the Telvanni,Audens?”

The figure smiled unpleasantly,embarassed by his own vanity.

“Still sharp of wit and tongue I see.And still trying to help that deadbeat brother of yours...When will he learn not to gamble what he does not own?”

“TAKE THAT BACK OVIDIUS!”,our hero bellowed,eyes blazing with fury.

“Touched a soft spot,did I?Relax,I haven’t come all this way to trade petty insults with a third-rate sell-sword.As you may have already realised unless that skull of yours is thicker than I remember,yours was a fool’s errand.There is no cup for you here,there never was one—“

“BLOODY THIEVES!”

“Haha,you really should learn not to be so trusting.As I was trying to say,your real task was to get here alive and unharmed,although by the looks of things even an objective as simple as that was beyond you.”

Furious and confused,our hero struggled to make sense of what his former brother-in-arms was telling him  and how it all fit together with his brother’s fate.

“Don’t worry that useless head of yours with trying to find answers,I shall provide you with them as a last favor from a free man to a slave.”The last word struck our hero like a hammer’s blow to the head.

“Oh,yes you heard that quite well.You’ll fetch quite a good price on the Morrowind market.You do know how to mine ebony,don’t you?Nevermind,I’m sure your master will teach you that and some humility as well.I hear there’s nothing quite like the Dunmer’s whip to teach a slave his place in the world.”

“Oh,and I nearly forgot.You have your brother to thank for this!”.The traitor’s words were like a sword through his heart and so our hero fell to his knees,shattered and robbed of his spirit.

“He sold you into slavery to cover his debts,he gave you away to a life of humiliation so he can gamble away  for just a bit more.I was there when he shook hands over this deal with the Thieves Guild.You have no one now,think  about that while we put you in the chains you’ll be wearing for the rest of your life!”

The hero succumbed to brooding depression and his battered limbs offered no resistance as his captors stripped him of everything save a loin cloth and put his hands and legs in icy cold chains.He stood huddled in a corner,speechless and still while his assailants made preparations to leave.He watched them with helpless contempt,listened as they talked of how they would spend the gold they would make off him.Of them all,one in particular caught his attention:the robed figure stood appart from the others,he was either the new man in the gang or someone they had taken along to help with this task in particular.The others,especially Audens,gave him a wide berth and treated him as if he was suffering from some disease.There was indeed something odd about the man,he did not seem to care much when the others mentioned payment and then there were his—eyes!

Our hero had not realised it at first but the more he looked the more sure he became...robes adorned with strange,deathly symbols,eyes that pierced his very soul and even the hint of a wicked smile beneath the hood  left nothing to chance.The man was a necromancer.
Fear and every horrible tale of his kind’s deeds awoke in our hero’s mind but there was also something that should not have been—hope,and the makings of a plan.Thoughts and images that were not his flooded his mind:armed with his lost sword he cut his way out of bondage and through his attackers,leaving the dark halls of Crowhaven behind him.The taste of revenge was almost on his lips and freedom lay just beyond an agreement with the man in black.The hero nodded,certain that his unlikely saviour would know he had agreed.

In the flash of an instant his bonds were shattered and from beneath his dark robes,the necromancer revealed our hero’s weapon.Eager for bloody vengeance,he quickly grabbed hold of it and before his captors could act he plunged it deeply into one of them,impaling his unlucky opponent.Taking the blade out through the man’s side,he raised it above his head then fell on another,splitting his skull.The hero took not a moment to stop and before they could parry or dodge,two more of his foes were gutted and maimed.Before him now lay only Audens and another who was armed with a bow and was ready to fire.The arrow however was never let loose as the necromancer sent a ball of fire,engulfing the man in hellish flames.

Standing alone before the man he would have made a slave of,Audens trembled,sheer terror gripping his very soul.He begged and groveled,pleading for his life,offering the hero riches and high standing  in the Guild but to no avail.Eyes wide with mortal fear,he watched helplessly as our hero raised his sword and with furious hands plunging it into his open mouth.
Audens was dead and on his traitorous husk the hero spit as the necromancer pulled back his hood and spoke out loud:

“Well done,hero.They deserved their gruesome end.”

The red haze of battle passing away,the heo turned to face his benefactor.

“Why?”,he uttered in a heavy,exhausted voice.

“You know what I am,hero.My kind is nothing without a place to call home and pets to do our bidding.You needed help,I need a home.A good deal,don’t you think?”

“I’m through with making deals.I thank you for my freedom and if it pleases you,call these halls your home but know this:should you threaten the people of this land with torment and death you neck will feel my blade before long!”

“Make what you will of it,if your death and servitude had been my goal I would have taken you and these dogs as well.Do not let the fact that you still breathe trick you into thinking  you’ve made a deal with death and got the upper hand.Cross me and I will make you a slave still,fleshless and mindless and bound to my will for all time.”

“Your powers are drained but so are mine,necromancer.If you could have killed my captors and me you would have done so.I may wield steel but I am no fool.”

And with these words,our hero turned his back to the necromancer and began his long journey back.The cold earth slowly gave way to the light of a new dawn and as he left the darkness beneath Crowhaven,our hero basked in the blood –red sun rising over the eastern hills.Before him lay fair,crimson-lit Anvil,behind him the bloodied halls of  faltering Crowhaven.