XX

Alberic parried the follower's sword strike before bringing down his own blade. The cold steel ploughed through his opponent from shoulder to chest in a spurt of hot blood that sprayed the walls of the tunnel. The hooded man collapsed with a death rattle and the young Breton turned, ready to face his next opponent.

There was chaos all around him.

The tunnels echoed with the clatter of weapons and the screams of the wounded. By the light of the torches, the shadows of the moving bodies danced and twisted on the walls as blood trickled down the rock. Gunnar seemed to enjoy the slaughter. With a wide grin on his face, he swung his axes with his usual savagery, killing many of the attackers. Flavia found it harder to use her bow in such a small space, but each of her shots hit with relentless precision.

As soon as the alarm was sounded, dozens of followers came running from hidden galleries brandishing their weapons. They were enraged at the idea that outsiders had desecrated their sanctuary and their fanaticism drove them to ever greater ferocity to repel the invader. Fortunately for the mercenaries, the confined space of the tunnels prevented their opponents from taking advantage of their overwhelming numbers, and their poor weapons skills made them easy targets to eliminate. But there was always more coming...

Alberic was beginning to feel fatigue creeping into his limbs, making his arm heavier and his movements slower. The wound in his shoulder was not helping, and the young Breton did not know how long he could keep fighting like this. Even Gunnar was beginning to weaken. Despite his exaltation and vigour, the Nord was running out of stamina as the fight dragged on.

But despite everything, the mercenaries managed to make slow progress through the tunnels. However, it was difficult to find their way through the maze while fighting off the enemy, and several times they lost their way and came upon dead ends. As they went deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth, the tunnels became fewer and narrower. The torches along the way told the mercenaries that they were on the right track. But the enemy refused to give up and continued to pursue them relentlessly.

Alberic made a sidestep to avoid a blow from an axe that whistled past him. With a shoulder bash, he pushed back his opponent who, caught in the momentum of his attack, did not manage to keep his balance. The adept fell to the ground swearing. He tried to get up but the young mercenary did not give him the chance, his sword planting itself deep in his back to pin him to the ground. He died instantly and Alberic pulled his weapon from the lifeless body, panting and feverish. He was about to face a new opponent when he saw that there was no one left to fight. The tunnel was littered with the bodies of dead followers.

The mercenaries were out of breath, but they didn't let their guard down and screams could still be heard in the nearby tunnels. Alberic hoped that their enemy had finally given up fighting in the face of such carnage, but Flavia immediately dismissed his hopes.

- "This isn't over... they're regrouping to attack."

- "Then, let them come," Gunnar said with a jerky breath. "My axes are still thirsty."

- "Mission first," the captain tempered. "We have to find the princess and get her out of there."

- "But there are too many of them..." continued Alberic. "We won't get through."

- "One problem at a time, Al'..." Flavia looked at each of them in turn before frowning. "Where's Imril?"

The mercenaries checked the surrounding darkness before exchanging wary glances. The elf had disappeared.

- "Is he...", Alberic began.

- "He probably ran away at the first scuffle like the pointy-eared coward he is!" Gunnar spat contemptuously.

If the Nord was telling the truth, then the altmer must have been far away by now. He must have taken advantage of the confusion to slip away without attracting attention. He could just as easily have been killed during the fighting without anyone noticing.

- "It doesn't matter," Flavia said. "We have more pressing matters to attend to. We need to keep moving before they decide to attack again."

Gunnar nodded with a grunt and Alberic did the same after a brief hesitation. The captain was apparently not ready to go after the mage and, as she had said several times before, protecting Princess Shazira was the priority. Everything else was secondary.

Without missing a beat, the mercenaries set off again through the main tunnel. The increasing number of torches along the way reinforced Flavia's belief that they were on the right track. They were close to their goal, but she also knew that reaching it would not be easy. Her armour felt heavier as they went on and her breath was getting shorter too. Their pursuers had finally regrouped to give chase and the sounds of their footsteps could be heard coming closer. They knew these tunnels better and were gaining ground. It would not be long before they caught up with them.

The captain was forced to admit that Alberic was right. Their enemies were far too numerous. They certainly couldn't take on the daedra and the cultists together.

The tunnel suddenly widened into a small cave with a high ceiling and enough space for several men to pass through abreast. A single passageway opened up at the far end, its entrance adorned with two massive rusty braziers whose flames lit up the room brightly. Taking a quick look around, Flavia made sure there was no other way into the cave.

This place would be perfect.

- "Halt!" she suddenly ordered.

The two men stopped immediately before looking at their captain in disbelief. The latter, out of breath, undid the quiver of arrows from her back and placed it at the entrance to the cave.

- "Why are we stopping, cap'n?" Gunnar questioned.

- "You're going on without me."

- "What?" said Alberic, blinking.

- "You heard me, Al'." She turned her cold gaze on the young man. "They're going to catch up with us if this keeps up. I'll stay here and hold them off."

- "Then I'll stay with you, cap'n. You're not going to face those stinking horkers alone."

- "No, Gunnar." She shook her head. "Go with the boy and find the princess. The mission comes first."

The Nord hesitated for a moment, his hands gripping the handles of his axes a little tighter, and Flavia finally smiled at the stubbornness and loyalty of her old comrade. She placed a firm hand on the Nord's shoulder before looking him straight in the eye.

- "Don't worry about me, old mammoth. I'll be fine as always," she reassured him. "When this is over, we'll both get drunk and you can drink as much mead as you like."

- "For that, you can count on me, cap'n!" the northerner replied with a fierce smile.

- "Go now. And take good care of the boy for me."

Gunnar nodded and, after a final glance with the captain, turned back to the boy and patted him on the shoulder.

- "Come on, boy! Let's go rescue your cat princess!"

Ordinarily, the young breton would have reacted immediately to the Nord's implications, but he remained silent, content to look at Flavia with a curious expression on his face. She glanced back at him and gave him a brief smile before waving him off. Alberic hesitated one last time before obeying and the two men soon disappeared into the back passage.

Taking a deep breath, the captain turned back to the tunnel from which they had come. She could hear the sounds of the adepts' frantic running getting closer and closer. They would be here in a few moments. Flavia took the first arrow from her quiver and notched it in her bow. She squinted her eyes to scan the darkness for a target as she caught her breath.

Her limbs and muscles were as taut as the string of her bow. Of all the enemies in these caves, Flavia feared that her old age was the most dangerous of all. If she had decided to stay behind, it was not only to hold back the enemy but also because she could no longer keep up with the pace she was setting for her own men. She would be more useful here, holding back the enemy than slowing her companions in their progress.

Flavia had no intention of sacrificing herself, however. She would fight here as she had fought on countless other battlefields. She would fight as she had fought all her life. She only hoped that she would have enough arrows for what lay ahead...

Her thoughts were interrupted when a hooded figure appeared in the tunnel. Flavia bent her bow to aim calmly before firing her first arrow.

* * * * *

- "Don't dawdle, kid," Gunnar shouted at Alberic. "Or I'll leave you behind."

The two mercenaries continued to pace through the tunnels and the young Breton was finding it harder and harder to keep up. He was younger and more agile than the Nord, but his shoulder injury was wearing him down. He could feel the blood rushing down his arm and he was getting hotter and hotter, as if he had a fever. Alberic didn't dare look at his shoulder, fearing to discover that his wound had finally reopened. At the moment, he couldn't tell if the blood staining his shirt and armour was his own or that of the followers he had killed earlier.

If he survived all this, old Zaradi would certainly give him a hard time. He didn't care as long as he managed to find Shazira and get her out of here. That was the only thought that kept him going despite his condition.

He also thought about Flavia. When she had ordered them to continue without her, it had been a shock to Alberic. Since he had served under her command, he had always seen the captain at the front of the battle, leading her men by example with unfailing courage and determination. Once again, she had stood up to the enemy, but this was different. Even the smile she had given him was strange and Alberic couldn't shake a bad feeling. He shook his head to chase away those dark thoughts. The mission came first.

Finally, the mercenaries emerged into a very large cave that seemed to be a dead end. The place was dimly lit by a few braziers with tired embers and the air was heavy with the smell of burning incense. Alberic had to squint to pierce the darkness, and gradually his sight became accustomed to the gloom.

The cave was almost bare except for what looked like a large carved stone altar in the center of the room facing a huge, strange mirror. Its surface was incredibly dark and smooth and Alberic felt a chill run through him as he looked at it. Turning his eyes away from the object, he made out a small figure standing by the altar, staring back at him with eyes that the young Breton recognized at once. Even in the darkness, Shazira's white coat was easily recognizable.

- "Alberrric!" she cried with a mixture of fear and relief.

She was alive and the thought alone was a profound relief to the young breton. He was about to rush to join the young khajiit when Gunnar held him back with one of his axes. The Nord was silent as his gaze stared into a dark corner of the room, just behind the princess. It was then that Alberic noticed something crawling slowly across the floor in the light of the braziers.

It looked like a big tail covered with dark purple scales and which sinuated on the rock like a repulsive snake. The young man sensed that he was being watched with insistence and a blood-curdling inhuman laughter soon echoed through the cave.

Slowly a nightmare creature emerged from the darkness, its pale body glowing in the light of the braziers. Alberic's eyes widened as he discovered the nature of their opponent, for the daedra was as sublime as it was repulsive to his mortal eyes.

- "Well..." the demon whispered as she glared at the two men, her smooth voice making the young Breton shudder. "Unwelcome visitors coming into my home without my permission and slaughtering my servants... well, this brings back many memories."

Alberic swallowed as he saw the creature approaching and barely managed to raise his sword. The daedra, however, merely stared at them with the evil, greedy eyes of a predator, an amused smile on its dark lips.

- "I assume you are here for our mutual friend," she continued, leaning in close to Shazira. "That doesn't surprise me. After all, who could resist such a charming and delicate treat..."

As she spoke these words, Ophia let one of her hands caress the princess' cheek sensually, causing the young khajiit to shudder as she sought to escape the snake woman's sickening embrace. The sight made Alberic's blood boil as he felt his fear slip away and his hands grip the hilt of his sword tighter. He could see the distress in Shazira's eyes and it was unbearable for him.

But Gunnar had noticed the young man's renewed ardor and he held him back even more.

- "Calm down, wolf cub," the Nord growled in a deep voice. "He's no opponent for you... let uncle Gunnar handle him."

Alberic was about to answer when he noticed the expression on the old warrior's face. The latter had lost his usual zest and his carnivorous smile. He was calm, his dark eyes staring intently at the daedra who returned the favor with a delighted smile.

- "Aaaah... it's been a long time since I've met a wolf of the north," she giggled as she straightened up, finally letting the princess escape her embrace. "Your kind always make great souls for my collection."

The Nord did not answer, contenting himself with tightening his grip on his axes while approaching the demon with prudent steps. The latter turned away from Shazira to meet the warrior and soon the two fighters began to circle each other in a heavy silence. The daedra still wore its contemptuous smile while Gunnar wore a dark expression. He took his opponent seriously and Alberic had never seen him so calm.

The two opponents continued to circle each other for a long time, each gauging the other with his eyes. Finally, the snake woman stopped and stifled a long, bored yawn before giving the Nord an arrogant smile. She was laughing at him.

Gunnar dashed forward in a flash. No one could tell if he had been stung by the daedra's taunt or if he had judged that it was the right moment to attack. His axes made great arcs, fast and precise, as he sought to reach his opponent. Despite his massive body, the demon dodged or parried the slightest blow with disconcerting speed and grace. Ophia had no need of weapons to defend herself. Her long claws were stronger than steel and as sharp as daggers. Several times, she dived towards the Nord in an attempt to slash him, but Gunnar was quick, narrowly avoiding the deadly claws or deflecting them at the last moment with his axes in sprays of sparks that revived the shadows of the cave.

Amazed by the fight that was taking place before his eyes, Alberic remained motionless and silent in front of the two combatants who were exchanging blows for blows with the speed of lightning. When he trained with the young Breton, the Nord was always enthusiastic and laughed heartily every time he made him bite the dust. But this was different... there was no playful smile or thunderous laughter in Gunnar, but an intense concentration that twisted the features of his face. His muscles bulging and tense, he was like a furious and ferocious wolf, relentlessly attacking his prey while showing his fangs. He gave everything he had, knowing that the slightest misstep would cost him his life.

For his opponent was more than formidable.

Much taller than the Nord, Ophia dominated him like a predator would look down at its prey. Her movements and reflexes were as quick as a snake's, her eyes glaring at Gunnar with murderous intent. Unlike him, her face bore a cruel and unhealthy smile. She seemed to be enjoying the fight very much, for where the mercenary was beginning to run out of stamina, the snake woman seemed to be animated by an unearthly vigor, and there was no sweat to dull her pale skin.

Alberic remained dazed for a moment before shaking his head. He had no time to daydream. Should he help Gunnar? No. No matter how confident he was in his sword’s skills, the young Breton knew instinctively that he would be no match for such an opponent. Worse still, he risked hindering the Nord in his fight.

Yet he was determined not to remain idle.

His gaze shifted from the fight to Shazira. The young khajiit was watching the furious duel that was taking place before her eyes, dumbfounded like him. Her gaze still betrayed the fear in her eyes and she stood there, unable to move.

Silently and with great caution, Alberic stepped back into the shadows to approach the princess, who did not even notice his presence. He put a hand on her shoulder, startling her friend who almost screamed, but the young breton put a hand on her muzzle to prevent her from making too much noise. In her panic, the young khajiit had her claws out, ready to defend herself. She finally opened her eyes with relief as she discovered Alberic.

Putting a finger to his lips, the young man told her to keep quiet and Shazira nodded nervously. He had barely removed his hand from her mouth when she jumped up to hug him forcefully and nearly choked him. Alberic didn't dare push her away, though, because he could feel her body trembling slightly against his. She must have been so scared.

- "Jone and Jode be praised... you came," she whispered.

- "Are you okay, Shazi?"

- "Y... yes. They haven't hurt me... yet."

The young Breton broke free of his friend's embrace and they both crouched down to hide behind the altar. When he spoke again, Alberic's voice was calm despite the situation.

- "We need to get out of this place without being noticed."

- "But... what about your friend?" she questioned.

- "Those are the orders. Don't worry about Gunnar, he's tough." He smiled at the young khajiit to reassure her, but he didn't feel nearly as confident. "Can you walk?"

- "Sure, but..."

Shazira looked down to point to the chain that clasped her ankle at the altar and Alberic winced at the sight. Locked by a rusty old padlock, the chain seemed solid. He looked around for the key, but in vain. Did the daedra have it on him? Perhaps, although the young Breton thought it was in the possession of one of his followers. In any case, he would waste too much time looking for it. He would have to find another way to free his friend.

Slipping the tip of his sword into the ring of the lock, Alberic tried to force it open. He had to be very careful, however, as the lock was very close to Shazira's ankle and he risked injuring her at the slightest wrong move. Focusing on his task, the young mercenary forgot about the furious fight that was taking place only a few steps away.

Gunnar and Ophia were still engaged in a deadly duel, attacking and parrying at a furious pace. But Gunnar was beginning to lose his strength. His blows were less precise and his breath was getting shorter. His opponent's deadly claws grazed him a little more with each attack and he would have died a dozen times by now if it weren't for his innate talent for fighting. And as he tired, the daedra seemed to be bored of this little game. For all this was only an entertainment for her.

The two fighters finally parted and the snake woman laughed more and more at the sight of her exhausted opponent.

- "You're a tired old wolf, Nord," she hissed without losing her smile. "But you've entertained me enough. It's time for you to rest."

Gunnar growled as he glared at Ophia. He knew he was no longer young, but his pride and Nord blood prevented him from admitting it. From the start of the fight, he had realised that he would be no match for her. He couldn't run away either because, unlike the daedra, he had noticed Alberic's manoeuvre from the corner of his eye. It was no longer a question of defeating but of giving the boy enough time to free the princess. If he had stopped the fight, it was only to catch his breath, but if it went on too long, the demon might figure out what was going on behind her back.

Gritting his teeth and drawing on his strength, the Nord rushed back to the attack, a fierce gleam in his eye. He had to keep his opponent's attention for as long as possible, and it didn't matter if the latter thought he had pushed him to the limit with his provocations.

The daedra laughed out loud as the mercenary charged him headfirst.

- "I like you, Nord! But as I told you before, you've entertained me enough as it is."

She was on him in a flash. Her long, jet-black hair waved and then swooped down on her prey to encircle his limbs like silky tentacles. Gunnar tried to strike with his axes to break free of this embrace but the hair seemed impossible to cut. Soon the Nord was reduced to helplessness, his arms and legs immobilized as his weapons were snatched of his hands. His muscles glistening with sweat and tense to the extreme, he looked like a ferocious beast in chains.

As if endowed with an intelligence of its own, the hair lifted him to the level of Ophia's face, which was smiling triumphantly.

- "Are you still struggling? I love it! Such ardor will be perfect for my collection of souls," she hissed, stroking the large jewel on her chest with a sensual gesture. "I hope you will appreciate the honor I am bestowing upon you, Nord."

- "My soul is already promised to Sovngarde[1]!!!" Gunnar braved in a thunderous voice.

Confident in the solidity of the bonds that held the Nord, Ophia had unwisely brought her face close to his. Gunnar swung his head backwards before striking the demon with a violent headbutt. The latter, surprised by such a crude attack, hissed in pain a first time, dazed by the violence of the shock. A second headbutt from the Nord was accompanied by the distinctive sound of a broken bone.

It was too much for the daedra.

Its long serpentine hair angrily threw his opponent against one of the cave walls. The demon's strength was phenomenal despite her slender appearance and Gunnar slammed into the rock. Several of his bones were broken on impact and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Ophia let out an inhuman groan as she brought her hands to her face. Her nose was broken and black, sticky blood was now running down her lips, staining her perfect opal skin.

- "My face! My beautiful face!!!" she screamed, her face contorted in anger. "You'll pay for this, you stinking barbarian!!!"

As the daedra cursed the unconscious Nord, Alberic was still trying to break the padlock that held Shazira chained to the altar. But although it was old and rusty, the lock refused to give way under the blade of the young breton who was beginning to lose patience. The chain was not very thick and he could perhaps break it by striking it with all his strength. He would have preferred a more discreet method but the demon was too busy to pay attention.

Grabbing his sword with both hands, he raised it above his head before suspending his gesture when he met Shazira's eyes. She looked terrified as she stared over his shoulder, her jaw trembling weakly without being able to utter a word.

It was then that Alberic noticed the eerie silence that now reigned in the cave, interrupted only by the steady crackle of the braziers. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, he widened his eyes to see the daedra leaning and towering over him.

Despite the wound that now marred the beauty of her face, Ophia smiled at him with all her teeth.

- "Well, young people..." she murmured in a cold voice, now devoid of all sensuality. "Are you leaving so soon?"

* * * * *

Fourteen.

The arrow whizzed through the darkness to strike the adept in the chest. The man collapsed face down without a cry. He was dead on the spot. Without waiting, Flavia notched another arrow to cock her bow and aim.

For several long minutes the captain had been keeping the fanatical followers at bay with her bow and arrows. Each shot hit with unerring accuracy and the floor of the tunnel was now littered with the bodies of her victims.

Fifteen.

She dutifully counted each shot, aware that her supply of arrows was not unlimited. Fortunately for her, the narrowness of the tunnel worked to her advantage, forcing her opponents to come one after the other and making them easy targets. The string of her bow snapped again.

Sixteen.

Unmindful of their losses, the cultists continued to pour in, screaming like hell. Ill-equipped, they wore neither armour nor shields, and that suited Flavia just fine, as she released her bowstring again.

Seventeen.

The arrow stuck in the shoulder of its target, who grunted in pain and Flavia frowned. Her aim was starting to weaken and she notched another arrow to finish the job.

Eighteen.

This time the projectile hit the wounded adept in the stomach and he finally fell to the ground.

Her accuracy was not the only thing that was failing and the captain could feel the fatigue numbing her arm. Worse still, she could feel the limbs of her bow creaking more and more with each draw. The weapon was as old as its owner, who held it from her service in the Imperial Legion. Like the armour she wore, it was old and tired.

But it didn't matter, Flavia told herself, as she notched the umpteenth arrow. She would fight to the end of her strength, as she had done all her life. Strapping her bow once more, she aimed at the darkness of the tunnel in search of her next target.

But there was no one.

With the string of her weapon still taut, the captain waited for another follower to rush at her, weapon in hand and rage in the eyes... but there was only a long silence. Had she killed all these fanatics or were they regrouping again to attack? She stood still for a moment, her single eye scanning the darkness and her ears alert to the slightest sound... nothing. There was nothing.

Slowly, she relaxed the string of her bow, exhaling deeply. From the looks of it, she had managed to hold off their pursuers and, better still, she seemed to have killed them all. If that was the case, so much the better. There was no risk of anyone catching them off guard now.

Flavia cracked her knuckles to relieve her stiffened muscles from the rope. If she had counted correctly, she had four arrows left in the quiver at her feet. It was a small number of shots, but she could make do with it, and if worse came to worst, she could always use her old sword. Picking up her quiver and slinging it over her shoulder, the captain was about to turn her back on the tunnel to join her companions when she suddenly froze.

There was noise in the tunnel.

With her senses alert and her body tense, Flavia scanned the darkness again. It wasn't a running sound, or even a death rattle, but just the sound of a stick hitting the rock with regularity... and the sound was getting closer. Soon a figure emerged from the shadows of the gallery, moving slowly towards the mercenary, stepping over the corpses of the followers.

It was a khajiit with fur as black as ebony and yellow eyes that glowed in the darkness, staring coldly at Flavia. His robes were the same as those worn by cultists and he held a long staff topped with a curious snake-like effigy that coiled along the shaft. A surviving follower?

Without hesitation, the captain took an arrow from her quiver and notched it.

- "Whoever you are, stay back," she shouted at the individual in a firm voice. "If you continue, I shall be forced to kill you!

It wasn't out of pity or compassion that Flavia was giving the man a chance to escape. She just wanted to save what few arrows she had left, though she doubted it would work. Daedra worshippers were fanatical devotees who were almost impossible to talk sense into.

The follower did not respond. He continued to advance ever closer, his staff echoing against the hard stone of the tunnel.

- "Last warning!" Flavia warned, aiming at the man's head before bending her bow.

Still no response. Too bad... at least she would have tried.

The bowstring vibrated in her hands, releasing the arrow that shot straight at its now close target. It was impossible to avoid it at such a distance. The captain expected the steel point to penetrate flesh and bone and the man's body to fall backwards.

But nothing of the sort happened...

The arrow was suddenly deflected a few inches away from the adept, bouncing against an invisible bubble that glowed briefly with a bluish sheen before disappearing again. Flavia could not hide her surprise at this prodigy. She had fought with and against enough battle mages to know a barrier spell when she saw one. Wizards rarely wore armour and preferred to project a protective screen around them to shield themselves in battle.

This could be problematic.

Flavia grabbed another arrow from her quiver but the khajiit was quicker. Taking advantage of her opponent's surprise, he brandished his staff and spoke two words in an unknown language. The shadows of the tunnel suddenly swelled up and fell on Flavia, and the darkness around her thickened until it obscured the light of the torches as a cold, abject sense of fear gripped her.

Her last thought before she was swallowed up went to her companions... she wasn't likely to join them any time soon.

Notes:

[1] The equivalent of heaven in Nord culture. It is where the souls of fallen Nord warriors go.