Carefully lifting up a hatch in the floor Baurus revealed a tiny passage leading into the lower levels. With barely a nod he clambered down, grasping the iron rungs firmly and shimmying his way down the gap. Viconia and I followed shortly after, lowering ourselves with slightly more difficulty than what he did due to being armoured and a lot bulkier. What was obviously a method of a last ditch-escape or unseen exit into the city, the crawlspace led down three stories of iron rungs before finally opening up into a carved out hole where dirt and stones had been removed. An illusion enchantment blocked the space where the ancient Ayleid masonry had been broken to clear access into the sewers and catacombs beneath the city which immediately assailed us with their stench.

  “Ugh,” Viconia was less than pleased to find herself in the depths of tunnels filled with the excrement of a million souls. “Why do cults always seem to be so fascinated by proximity to shit?”

  “Probably matches their personality’s.” I remarked wryly. “Although I believe you can crawl into any dark hole in Tamriel and find some sort of nest of scum.”

  “Very true.” Viconia seemed to glide through the shadows and never once seemed to put a foot out of place. “and the further you delve the closer you come to the Underdark.”

  We travelled through the darkness, guided by Baurus and the flickering light of the torch that he had lit as soon as he had reached the bottom of the rungs. This region under the city was unlike the older and less utilised catacombs where I had escaped during the Emperor’s assassination; it was much more heavily utilised by the teeming masses that had made the Imperial City home for the past millennia. Streams of effluent slowly shifted through the channels carved in the middle of the tunnels and we ensured that we moved around the open mouths of pipes where they disgorged even more waste into the mass. The chittering of rats and the signs of their nests were everywhere, some small and average in size and others leaving tracks that were considerably larger and matched the size of my own booted footprints. Dozens of other types of vermin and other unnameable creatures made these foul depths their home, feasting on each other and the mass that slowly made its way out into Lake Rumare through the hundreds of pipes and sewer exits dotted around the island.

  Fleshy masses of polyps clung to the walls and ceiling and mutant varieties of crabs seemed to click and scuttle away from the burning torch as the light played across their white, twisted forms. Chittering calls of goblins echoed from the depths and corpses of animals, creatures, men and mer were common in various stages of decay. In such a place darker things seemed to lurk, hinting their existences through the dragging marks through the filth and twisted remains of their prey that were left behind. Stepping across a bridge across the stream I laid eyes on the bloated, rotting corpse of what appeared to be an Altmer bobbing and floating slowly in the steam of pollution. Its eyes were white and staring into nothingness but as my foot gently pressed into the stonework of the bridge it suddenly rolled and faced in my direction, mouth opening wide and reaching out with a rotted arm that snapped from the movement. Viconia’s wicked laugh at my sudden flailing reaction from the mostly-destroyed zombie was even more frightening than its appearance as it sank away into the depths.

  Soon we came across some of the catacombs and long forgotten basements of buildings that hadn’t been used accessible to the surface in centuries. While a sight better than the stinking tunnels behind us there was no mistaking the decay and rot that seemed to permeate the masonry. Baurus seemed to steel us unerringly towards our destination, only stopping at certain crossroads in the tunnel network to briefly stare at the walls. Carefully watching wherever he looked I could see the tiny, fingernail sized marks that he had scratched there over the weeks previous. Unnoticeable except for those knowing what to look for they lead us ever deeper until we came across a solid wooden door reinforced by metal alongside a staircase leading up a level above us.

  “Right then,” he said, stopping before the door and whispering to Viconia and I in hushed tones. “Through this door there is a room with a table where those wishing to join the Mythic Dawn go to meet the Sponsor.”

  He motioned to the staircase to the left of the door where it faded into the darkness outside the pitiful amount of torchlight. “I happen to know that if you go up the stair there, you can get a vantage point on the meeting room. Like I said before, I’ll handle the meeting and you both will be my backup. Keep watch from the walkway up the stairs in case of trouble.”

  I shifted slightly on my feet, peering up into the darkness and pulling my cloak and hood tighter over my head and body. From where it was wrapped around my throat I lifted up the leather mask I had made for just these sorts of occasions until all that could be seen on my flesh was my eyes, top of my nose and the lower portion of my forehead. Viconia had taken similar precautions, pulling her hood tight over her head and ensuring that her white hair was tucked away from where light could reach it.

  “You can count on us.” I replied, my voice muffled now by the leather mask.”

  “Good. Now remember that we must not leave here without the book, it’s the only chance of finding their hideout and the Amulet.” He signed heavily in an effort to calm his nerves. “I’m glad to have you two at my back.”

  Nodding to the two of us he stood near the door long enough the illuminate the stairs with the feeble light of his torch. As we reached the top of the stairs he turned, took a deep breath and pulled the door closed as he stepped through.

  Viconia and I slid through the shadows, her upbringing in the depths of the world and my vampiric nature making a mockery of the difficulties of moving through the lightless catacombs and sewers. As the torch faded my sight suddenly seemed to shift, changing the deepest depths of inky blackness into a world of grey tones and shimmering life forces as rats, cockroaches and other unfathomable creatures shifted in the deep. I could see clearer than what I could in the middle of the day, and my other senses seemed to expand until I could hear the slightest of movements of insects burrowing through the ancient masonry and dirt surrounding us.

  Behind the doors lay a room devoid of any ornamentation except for a single table no different from the hundreds scattered in every tavern and a pair of equally unremarkable chairs on either side. A tiny shuttered lantern sat in the centre of the table, its light barely able to hold back the gloom especially as Baurus doused his torch as he walked carefully over to it and sat down. The increased darkness allowed both Viconia and I to shift across the walkway, pressing into the walls and only those with similar sight as ourselves could ever hope to spy us lurking in the shadows.

  For several minutes we waited, crouched and controlling our breathing so that we barely moved and made no sound at all. The darkness held no secrets for either of us, and I found myself counting the echoing drips of moisture from within the room as I watched Baurus sitting quietly in front of the table and it’s burning lantern. For a while it appeared as though we had come to these depths beneath the Imperial City for nothing, but after what felt to be an age footsteps began to echo from the doorway on the opposite side of the room from where we entered.

  Slowly, the door opposite Baurus and closest to the vacant seat opened, a new glow of torchlight suddenly increasing the visibility. I found myself shrinking further into the shadows as they shifted and swayed in time with the bobbing lantern. Carefully and with an elven grace the new figure closed the door, briefly pausing to blow out the flickering flame inside the lantern it carried and moving over to the table and Baurus. Not a word was spoken as the being carefully sat down in the seat, looking across the table and steepling its fingers and leaning forward with elbows pressing into the table’s surface. Almost every inch of the figure was clothed in the same blood-red robes worn by the Emperor’s assassins, flowing and loose but only revealing the pale golden-tanned hands visible in the light. Even with my vampiric sight I could only see hints of the face under the hood, the tiny glints of eyes briefly visible as they studied Baurus in a burning intensity.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “So,” the figure said at last, the voice deep but strangely musical like all elfkind. “You want to become one of the Chosen of Mehrunes Dagon.”

  It was a statement rather than a questions, and Baurus sat still, staring at the figure and not even twitching to show the nerves that he would have to have been feeling.

  “The Path is difficult, but the rewards are great.” The Figure continued, the door opening again at an unspoken command and a second figure appeared, similarly robed and hooded but carrying a box in its hands. The box was flat and wide but the lid was open, revealing a velvet interior containing a single leather bound book within.

  “I have the book you seek. With it and the Master’s three other books you will possess the key to enlightenment. But do you have the wit and strength to use the key you have been given? If so, I will see you next at Dagon’s Shrine…”

  The soft scuttling sound of movement snatched at my attention and I found myself staring at the other door on the opposite side of the walkway. Viconia had hidden herself in the shadows but as I turned and glanced around, ignoring the “Sponsor’s” words to Baurus I realised with a start that I could not see or find where Viconia was hiding. More effectively than a potion of Invisibility she had seemingly disappeared and for a moment I panicked, glancing about only to watch as the far door opened. Another pair of robed cultists had appeared, both carrying lanterns and illuminating me as surely as I was carrying one myself as they entered the room on the walkway.

  For several seconds we stared at each other, the looks of confusion mirroring each other’s faces even as they struggled to comprehend my humanoid shadow pressed into the wall. All that was visible were my eyes, the rest was swallowed up under the grey-black cloak wrapped securely around my shoulders and making it nearly impossible to discern what was underneath. The moment of surprise was snuffed like a blown out candle, and they both moved with startling swiftness, spitting their words of conjuration and summoning their daedric weapons and equipment from the ruinous depths of Oblivion.

  Neither of them got the chance to finish however. Like a malignant spider crouched and awaiting prey, Viconia dropped from the ceiling where she had been hanging precariously with her hands and feet pressed into whatever grooves and cracks allowed purchase. Neither one of the robed acolytes of Mehrunes Dagon knew or realised the threat until the one standing at the rear was suddenly crushed under the full weight of Viconia’s armoured body. with as much force as she could gather she dropped onto his chest and spine with both armoured boots driving into the cultist. Sickening cracks were audible over the sudden pained cry and breathless grunts as the air was driven out of him but within a second it was over, a dagger flashing in the darkness and reappearing sheathed in crimson.

  As he prepared to charge me, the second cultist didn’t fare any better, suddenly trapped between two foes and unable to even attempt turning around. Before he could react he too was thrown forward, slamming chest and face first into the moist, damp stones with the weight of a Drow bearing down on him. A strangulated scream echoed through the room and the catacombs, his half-formed armour dissolving into nothing as Viconia stabbed him in the throat and began sawing away with her blade.

  The others for their credit exploded into action, the seated Sponsor kicking back in his seat and leaping to his feet with suspicious ease while his colleague stood frozen to the spot in surprise. Baurus transformed from a seemingly harmless nobody into a precise and powerful fighter, hurling the table with a kick at the cultists even as he rolled over backwards on his chair with the ease of an acrobat. He rose to his feet, a dagger appearing in his hand but now faced with the rapidly armouring forms of a pair of angry cultists there was little that he could hope to accomplish, Member of the Blades or not. The two moved quickly, the Sponsor swinging a daedric blade the length of my arm with an unusual amount of proficiency, and his fellow cultist slammed the lid on the box shut, before backing away towards the door as quickly as he could.

  Baurus picked up his chair and lashed it out in front of him, swinging it by a leg even as it was smashed into kindling by a swing of the serrated daedric sword. He was moving away from the black and red clad cultist now who seemed hell-bent on eviscerating him on the gleaming edge, while wielding a dagger no larger than the one I used to skin and gut rabbits. It was far from an even fight as the cultist began swinging with gusto, but it didn’t remain that way for long.

  I fell off the edge of the balcony and tucking myself into a ball as I landed I rolled to my feet in a single smooth motion. The two surviving cultists on the lower level were now focussed on killing Baurus and escaping with the book respectively. They were not paying attention to anything else in the room and this lack of awareness cost them dearly.

  A wet smack echoed over the sounds of the scuffle as a blood-wet ball of hair and skin hit the cultist carrying the book right in the face, staggering him with the force of the blow. From her position on the walkway Viconia had hurled the severed head of the second cultist she had ambushed at his colleague trying to escape. He tripped and fell, now covered with the fresh arterial blood and finding himself staring at the twitching features of his fellow cultist as the life finally faded from his eyes. The Sponsor, still attempting to slaughter Baurus suddenly found himself faced with me instead as I parried his sword with the gleaming edge of Sunchild.

  Within a heartbeat we were trading blows, the unnatural edge of his daedric blade sparking off the flawless metal of my Ayleid sword. We twisted, ducked, weaved and sliced and although he was a swordsman of considerable skill he was nothing in comparison to those I had faced for the past month at Cloud Ruler. His footwork was imprecise, his motions telegraphed his every move and my vampiric strength and speed allowed me to quickly gain the upper hand. Within a dozen of strikes and parries he faltered, having his blade turned aside by a single twist of my wrist and leaving him wide open for my riposte. There was little more than a grunt from him as the tip of Sunchild pieced through the black substance of his breastplate, scraping first on the metal and then on his ribs before cutting deeply into his heart.

  Behind him the last surviving cultist died at Viconia’s hand. Shrieking horribly, he was brutally and almost sadistically disembowelled by the Dark Elf. She stabbed him in the guts with Dragonbane before tearing it out of him in a wash of blood and viscera, stepping aside from the sudden spray of gore. His scream was drawn out and painful as he died, falling to his knees keening as he attempted and failed to simultaneously scoop up and hold in his slithering innards.

  Baurus seemed to pale at the sight of Viconia standing over her helpless victim as he died and armour sloughed away from his skin until only a pitiful corpse dressed in ruined robes was left behind. The whole time she stood over him, a blank expression on her face and watching with interest as he went about dying messily.

  “That could have gone better.” Baurus finally said as he managed to gulp down his unease at Viconia’s actions and the screams of the cultist finally stopped echoing. “I wasn’t expecting to have so many of them come here at once.”

  “They must’ve been expecting trouble.” I replied, watching as he carefully stepped around the growing pool of gore that creeped over the ancient stonework. The case containing the book had fallen to the floor but had remained undamaged except for the few splatters of blood across its cover “But we have the book and that’s all that matters.”

  “What now?” Viconia said, stepping through the pooling blood with little heed to the splashes of the liquid over her boots.

  “Now I take this to Tar-Meena and we hopefully find where these bastards are hiding. It could be some time though before she manages to translate the four books together.”

  I shrugged, wiping Sunchild clean on the Sponsor’s robes and noting the long boned face of the Altmer under the hood. “We have no plans for the next few days.”

  “Good. Keep checking in at the Boarding house but otherwise feel free to wander about the city however you like. There’s no telling how long it will take before Tar-Meena manages to work her way through all this.”