Chapter Fifty-two – Markarth Part 2
Nora left Markarth that morning with the blessing of the High Priestess of Dibella, Mother Hamal.
“Through the Protocol, we have seen the home of the next Sybil, to the north, in a small village pressed against the stone,” had said the Mother. “If you can travel there, and retrieve our young Sybil, we will be eternally grateful.”
Nora was glad to do it, and it would give her an excuse to explore some more of the Reach on a road she had not traveled thus far. The priestesses were lovers in the truest sense of the word, and the Dragonborn doubted they would make the trip there and back without being preyed upon by bandits or Forsworn. And if a dragon showed up, forget it.
“So, what are we getting out of this?” asked Sofia, riding beside Nora as they pushed their horses at forty miles an hour.
“A good feeling,” said the Dragonborn. “Isn't that enough?”
“Well, maybe just this once,” said the smiling woman, her raven hair blowing in the wind.
Nora knew that Sofia had as good a heart as anyone she knew. She liked to hide it under a mercenary exterior. But deep down she liked these kind of missions. Lydia, Jordis and Valdimar followed because they were pledged to her. The others because she was a friend.
Karthwasten was a mining village about ninety miles on good road from Markarth, just up the hills from the left bank of the Karth River. Hamal had assured them that the parents would be happy to hear that their daughter had been chosen, since the child would be well cared for the rest of her life, and the family would be granted prosperity for their sacrifice. Nora hoped so, though she wasn't sure she would want a child of hers taken from her forever and raised apart. That thought brought back recollections of Shawn, who had had that thing done to him exactly. And he had turned into a monster.
The road was deserted for the most part. A few people here and there, in groups for mutual protection. One patrol of militia trying to keep the road passable. A few caravans moving smelted metals to Markarth. They passed several closed mines and an abandoned office. Some farms that had the look of being long abandoned, weeds clogging the fields. And many towers and fortifications that should have been abandoned, but had their own garrisons of sorts. Forsworn. It seemed to Nora that they controlled most of the Reach, the Nords only holding Markarth, the road from Whiterun to the city and several miles to either side. And not always that.
They turned onto the road to the town, a mile and a half of stone path that led to about twenty buildings. The town had a tavern but no an inn. Travelers who needed a place to sleep could take one of the furs on the floor placed for that purpose. There was a smithy, vital in such a town. And two mines. Silver, the rich metal of the Reach. And a confrontation occurring as the party rode into town.
“That is our mine, and you have no right to shut it down,” argued a Reachman, looking up at a taller Nord in seafarer's clothing. “Leave.”
“The Silver-Bloods hired us to maintain order, to keep the Forsworn at bay. And we stay until they tell us to leave.”
“Keep the Forsworn at bay,” scoffed the Reachman. “And yet you did nothing when the Forsworn raided us this morning.”
“They weren't threatening the mine,” replied the mercenary captain. “We have nothing more to talk about.” The mercenaries turned to walk away, a couple of them glaring at the newcomers.
Nora dismounted and walked after the Reachman.
“Hey,” she called out to get his attention.
“Are you more of the Silver-Blood's people? Here to take the other mine away from us?”
“Are you the owner of the mines?”
“I guess I am,” said the man. “Unusual, yes. A Reachman owning a source of silver. The damned Silver-Bloods couldn't stand that, and used the excuse of Forsworn to keep us from working it.”
“I'm here looking for a little girl. One Fjotra.”
“Oh. You need to talk to Enmon. Her father. Over by the mine to the north.”
Nora thanked the man and hurried to that mine, to see two men working a smelter.
“I'm looking for Enmon.”
“I am Enmon. And I really don't feel like talking, if you please.”
“I was sent by the Priestesses of Dibella to fetch you daughter, Fjotra. She is to be the new Sybil of the Temple.”
“We never guessed,” said the man, eyes wide. “Then she needs to get to the temple. But you're too late. The Forsworn raided us this morning, and all they took was my daughter.”
Nora felt her hackles rise. That couldn't be coincidence, could it?
“Where did they take her?”
“That group is in Broken Tower Redoubt, about fifteen miles up the road. But there are a lot of Forsworn there. It's very dangerous.”
“I'm going to get your daughter and bring her to Markarth,” said Nora firmly.
“I'll go with you,” said Enman, turning to walk to his house.
“We'll handle it, Enman. This is what we do, and I don't want you to get killed for no reason.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Enman. “Please find my daughter. And stop by here to let me know that she's safe.”
Nora walked back to the horses, ready to mount up, then swerved to walk to the other silver mine. There was another crime going on here, and it was about time she showed the Silver-Bloods that they couldn't just grab every shiny thing that they saw.
“Where are you going?” asked Eldawyn, stalking off after her friend.
“To right a wrong,” said Nora.
“What are you doing here,” said a large mercenary, holding a hammer. “Get out of here before I crack your skull.”
“Out of my way,” said Nora, putting both hands on the man's chest and shoving him onto his back. She pulled Dawnbreaker from its sheath and walked on, spotting the leader on a raised platform. She stormed up the ramp to stand in front of the leering man. “You need to leave, now.”
“And what's to prevent me from plunging a dagger in your chest and throwing your body in a pit.”
Nora glared at the man, Dawnbreaker glowing with power, fire playing over the fingers of her left hand. “Perhaps I should pull the soul from your body and use it to enchant a pickax.”
“Shit,” said the wide eyed mercenary. “We're going. Everyone,” he called out. “Pack. We're getting out of here.”
“You really wouldn't have soul trapped him?” asked Lydia in a hushed voice.
“Of course not. But he didn't know that.”
Nora went to the owner of the mine, Ainethach. “I convinced the mercenaries to leave. You can go back to working the mine.”
“Not sure how you did that,” said Ainethach, “but I'm glad to hear it.” He grabbed a small sack of coin from the smith’s table. “Here.”
“No need,” said Nora, holding out a palm to reject the reward. “I was glad to help. Now, I need to go get a little girl.”
It took about twenty-five minutes to get to the Broken Tower Redoubt. It really looked like a fortress. A towering wall of stone about eighty yards long facing the road, with multiple towers rising up. Forsworn camped on the ramparts, sitting around fires while some of their number with bows looked down on the road. There was one large door in the front, the only way in, though it looked like one could climb up a path to the side and come down on the upper ramparts.
“Okay. Let's stir this hornets' nest up,” she said, notching an arrow and waiting for her other bow users, Lydia, Jordis and Elesia, to follow suit. All four archers sent their first shafts up at the battlements, scoring two hits on archers, neither of them fatal. They notched and loosed again. Nora unstrung her bow and slid it into its holster on her horse while she waited for the response. It wasn't long in coming, all of the Forsworn on the battlements drawing and firing.
The Housecarls and Elesia all went to shields, dropping their bows to the ground. They warded the mages from arrows while Nora waited for the next act. She stood out in the open for a moment, getting a better look at the fort, knocking away a couple of arrows with her buckler. The door to the fort opened and a score of Forsworn came running out, the one in the lead holding a large hammer, the ones behind armed with swords or bows.
They're so predictable, thought Nora with a smile. Just like the Raiders back home, all they knew how to do was run at an enemy and overwhelm them. If the party had been made of only warriors that might have worked. Probably not, since they were exceptionally good warriors. But their other talents were about to come into play.
Nora threw the first fireball, with the other three mages following her lead within a second. All of the Forsworn running toward them were now on fire. Many cast healing spells. Others continued to run forward despite their pain. The next set of fireballs dropped most of them dead to the ground. Nora dodged one that came at her, swinging Dawnbreaker into the body of the man, leaving him to bleed out on the ground. She fired chain lightning at the next, watching as the electricity jumped from him to two other still standing Forsworn. And just like that the entire assault party was no more.
“Hit them on the battlements,” shouted Nora, flinging a Firestorm spell, one she had just learned from Eldawyn, at the first level. The slow-moving spell moved and settled over the Forsworn, burning them. A couple seemed not discomfited in the least, and started throwing their own spells, caught on the wards of the party mages.
“Into the door,” yelled Nora, running to the heavy wooden portal. It wasn't locked, what she was hoping since twenty people had just come through. She was in a small hall, the sounds of people yelling ahead, the noise coming her way. Nora ran forward, cutting down a Forsworn archer who was heading for the door. She continued on to find herself at the entrance to a large chamber with several sets of stairs leading up to a higher level. Two Forsworn were on the floor and heading her way, weapons at the ready, while another was coming down the stairs, casting a spell.
Nora shouted Slow Time and ran forward, cutting down one Forsworn, then the next, the people in slow time not able to react fast enough. She stepped out of the way of a bolt of cold, then headed for the mage, flinging her own ice spikes at the woman. The mage was missed by one, hit by another, and called up healing. A mistake, because it allowed Nora to close, and she took the head from the mage.
“Nora,” called out Eldawyn from behind. “Wait.”
“Come up behind me,” she called back, turning and running up the stairs. At the top were a number of bookshelves, half empty, filled with potions and a couple of strong boxes. She left those for her followers to loot and continued down a hall that led further into the fortress. She ran through rooms that contained beds that were unlikely to be used again, then around a curved walkway. There was a spike wall trap at one entry, and she skirted the pressure plate and continued on, then went back and triggered it, backpedaling out of the way. She didn't want the thing hurting her followers, and it looked like it could cause serious damage.
“Nora,” called out Eldawyn.
“Ware the trap,” she hissed back, then continued on. She saw a door on the next level and pushed it open, to see the archers that had been on this section laying on the ground, dead and burning. Nothing else, so she ducked back into the fortress and back up the steps. A bunch of rocks rolled down, another trap, and she backed up against the rock wall and let them pass. More Forsworn were coming right after the rocks, and Nora tried out one of her new spells. She cast Wall of Storm, moving her casting hand to spray the spell on the ground to her front, from wall to wall, putting a barrier of lightning between her and the Forsworn.
“Look out,” yelled one of the Forsworn, and two of them slammed into the wall, burning from the shock. Nora cut the two Forsworn down before they could recover, then dissipated the spell and ran past the wooden device that had held the rocks that had come down earlier. A mage was casting a spell, looking at Nora with fear filled eyes. Well, Nora had just cast an expert level spell, and the Forsworn had to recognize her as a high-level mage, probably out of her class. She hesitated in her casting and Dawnbreaker took her life.
The rest of the way up was clear and she tried the door leading out. There were dead Forsworn up here as well, along with a couple of the still living variety who were drawing bows, arrows pointing at her.
Nora shouted Slow Time again, charging ahead, watching her enemies draw their bows in slow motion. They released, one after the other, and Nora dodged both slow moving objects, then brought her sword down on the head of one, splitting the skull, then swinging through the neck of the next.
That brought her to a door leading into the final tower. Nora thought for a moment. Should she wait for her people? Or go ahead and use surprise to her advantage. She decided on the later, and pushed the door open, just in time to accept a fire bolt into her body.
Nora cried out in pain. Her enchantments kept her from taking too much damage, but it still hurt like hell. She threw an ice bolt back, seeing it hit the Forsworn warrior with little affect. The man had the opening over his chest with the weird looking construct that marked him as a Briarheart, and he obviously had a lot of magic resistance. Nora threw another spell and ran forward, dodging from side to side. One fire bolt missed, another hit, and she felt like she had taken some serious damage with that one. Gritting her teeth she ran forward, thrusting her sword through the bare stomach of the Briarheart, then slicing it out in a spray of blood. The man fell dead to the floor, his entrails spilling out.
“Fjotra,” called out Nora.
“In here,” called back a child's voice.
She found a cage in one of the room corners, a small child, about eight or nine, huddled away from the door, wide blue eyes staring out. She had light brown hair done up in a braid, and would have been adorable if not for the reddened eyes she was crying from.
“I'm here to get you out, Fjotra,” said Nora in a gentle voice, putting the key that had been on the Briarheart into the lock.
“Did my da send you?” asked the child, and Nora felt her heart sink. This was the moment when this whole thing might go south.
“I was sent for you by the Priestess at the Temple of Dibella, child. You are the new Sybil.”
A wide smile creased the face of Fjotra. “I had a dream that this was going to happen. I've always wanted to see the Temple, but never thought I would.”
Nora thought for a second about a society where young children wanted to see the Temple of the Goddess of Passionate Love. Well, it wasn't her society, so who was she to judge?
“I'm going to take you out of here, so close your eyes.” Nora really didn't want the little girl seeing the bodies that had been torn apart in combat. Maybe she would see it as something that was common, but Nora wasn't willing to take that chance. Let the child have sweet dreams while she could.
“Nora,” called out Eldawyn, coming into the room with Elesia and Lydia.
“I'm here,” she called. “I have Fjotra, the child we came for.”
The child was cowering behind Nora, not sure who these new people were.
“Fjotra. These are my friends. Eldawyn, Elesia and Lydia.”
“Are you a High Elf?” asked the child, looking at Eldawyn.
“I am, Fjotra,” said Elda, kneeling to get on the child's level. “Have you ever seen any of my people?”
“I've heard of High Elves coming through the village, but Da always makes sure I'm in the house. He says they are bad people.”
“Well, Fjotra, I'm not one of those. In fact, they are enemies of mine. But I want to be your friend.”
“I would like that,” said Fjotra, holding her hands up to her mouth. “You are so beautiful.”
And I guess the rest of us are ugly, thought Nora with a laugh. Or at least not as exotic as Eldawyn.
“Get everything of value that we can carry. I'm going to take the child to the horses.”
She didn't want the child to have to see all the dead bodies on the way, and had a way to prevent it. “We’re going to appear by the horses, honey. Nothing to worry about.”
“What..”
Nora cast, and her and the child appeared down the road from the fortress, where the horses were calmly grazing on the grass.
“What was that?”
“Did it scare you?”
“No. I want to do it again.”
“Well, once all of my people are here we will be doing it again. I'm going to take you back to your Da, so he can see that you are okay. Then on to Markarth. We will be jumping a bunch of times, so if you start getting sick let me know.”
Soon the party was assembled, several saddle bags filled with loot from the fortress. Nora still wasn't sure who was right in the conflict in this region, but her exposure to the Forsworn had already given her a taste of hagravens and Briarhearts. If those were the allies of the Forsworn, and they engaged in the kidnapping of small children, she really didn't care if they were the wronged party.
The party jumped to Karthwasten. Her father and mother were overjoyed to see their child, hugging her for twenty minutes, then turning away, letting go.
“I'm ready to go to the Temple,” said Fjotra.
Nora nodded and cast teleportation. Over and over again, until the entire party was at the stables.
“Everyone get the horses unsaddled. I'm going to take us to the temple.”
“Can Lady Eldawyn come?” asked the child, grabbing Elda's hand. “I want the people in the Temple to see my elf friend.”
“Of course.” Nora cast, they disappeared, and popped into existence in the first room of the Temple. And almost panicked the priestesses.
“Invisibility?” asked Mother Hamal in a surprised tone.
“Teleportation,” said Nora, smiling.
“You really are a mighty mage.”
Nora quickly gave them a rundown on how they had tracked the child to a Forsworn fortification and took her by force. The wide-eyed priestesses listened intently, until Mother Hamal clapped her hands together. “We need to get our new Sybil prepared. We have been too long without a connection to our Goddess. Are you ready child?”
Fjotra quickly hugged Nora, then Eldawyn, then turned and walked away. Soon she would no longer be a child, but a conduit to the Divine. Nora felt her heart sink. The child was going to grow up too soon. But then, in this world many were forced to do that, and at least she would be living in luxury, and her family well taken care of.
“You have earned a reward, heroes,” said Hamal as the other priestesses left with the child.
“We ask for nothing,” said Nora, holding up a hand.
“We don't offer money, but the blessing of the Goddess. Since both of you are women, you can accept this gift, which will give you power over men in battle and in bed. Something of use, yes.”
“Yes,” said Eldawyn, smiling.
Nora thought it was a gift she could use. Not that she didn't already have power over men, but there might be situations where a seduction was necessary to complete the mission, and an extra boost would be welcome.
“We accept.”
“Good. Pray at the altar of the Goddess that she may bestow the gift, that you will forever be more effective in your dealings with men.”
Nora knelt at the altar alongside Eldawyn. She liked the sound of that. Not a temporary blessing like other shrines, but something that would always be with her. She felt the energy pouring into her body. She felt energized as she got up off her knees. There was no evidence that anything had really happened, but she had found that when the Gods of this world promised something, they always followed through.
* * *
“I'm going to ask some questions in the Warrens,” she told her people. “I want to do this alone, since seeing so many strangers there is sure to scare people off.”
All of the women in the party had prayed at the altar in the Temple, receiving the blessing of Dibella. She wanted all of her people to get every advantage she could give them.
“Are you sure, Nora?” asked an anxious Eldawyn. “You know how you attract trouble.”
“And you know that I can handle myself. So no arguments. I'll be back in a couple of hours. If I'm not back, feel free to come looking for me.”
There were a few more protests, but her friends knew that trying to argue her out of something was like arguing with a wall, so they soon gave up. Nora headed out on her own, wanting to get this business for Margret over with. The agent herself said she was going to meet with her own handlers, trying to get something put together to act on whatever information Nora gathered.
The Warrens were across the small river that flowed through the city, and eventually into the Karth. There were a number of stone bridges here, and many people moving about on errands or working the forge to the east side of the space. A very large door dominated the cliff face, and Nora walked up there to see what it was.
“What do you want here, stranger?” asked one of the guards.
“I wanted to know what this was.”
“This is the entrance to the Cidhna mines,” said another guard, glaring at her. “Believe me, stranger. That's all you want to know.”
“Do you offer tours?”
The guards all laughed. “The tour will last longer than you like. Now, move along.”
Nora walked up another ramp until she reached an apothecary shop, the Hags Cure. She wandered inside, to find a large selection of ingredients and a woman with a warpainted face, or were they tattoos, behind the counter.
“Welcome to the Hag's Cure,” said the woman.
“Interesting name.”
“Well, once you get old enough, the insults start,” said the woman. “What can I do for you.”
“I'd like to buy some recipes for a friend.”
The hag had a lot of recipes to choose from, and Nora bought about a dozen of them to give to Lydia.
“What do you think of the Silver-Bloods?”
“They're a bunch of damned shake down artists is what they are. Hooligans. They send one of their boys here once a week to shake coin out of me.”
Nora thought that interesting. The Silver-Bloods were supposed to be the aristocracy of this town, yet many people thought them no more than criminals.
Nora headed back across the river to the entrance to the Warrens. Some poorly dressed men sat outside, staring at her as she walked to the entrance, saying not a word. She went through a door and found herself in a warren of tunnels with many rooms off to their sides. The place was well named, and filthy, with garbage everywhere.
“I'm looking for Weylin's room,” she told a man who was standing near the center, watching her every move.
“And I'm supposed to care?”
Nora stared at the man, letting fire play across one hand, cold across the other.
“Now now,” stammered the man. “No need to get rough. I'll show you where his room is. Even let you in.”
Nora searched the room, which was mostly empty except for some sleeping furs and a chamber pot. She found a satchel, and a note.
“Weylin. You've been chosen to strike fear in the heart of the Nords. Go to the market tomorrow. You will know what to do. N.”
“Do you know anyone that might go by the initial, N?” she asked the man who had escorted her to the room.
“You don't want to get involved in this. Believe me.”
“Believe me, I do.”
“Your funeral. That would have to be Nepos the Nose. He has a place on the north side of the city. But if you go to his house you're most likely to not come out.”
Nora thought she could handle Nepos and whatever he had. She walked out of the Warrens, to be confronted by an exceptionally large man wearing pugilists’ gloves that glowed slightly with magical power.
“Been sticking your nose where it don't belong, eh bitch,” said the man. “Well, I've been hired to teach you a lesson, and I might as well begin.”
The man strode forward and threw a right at Nora. It was a clumsy strike; one she had no problem stepping away from. The man took another step, winding up a hook. Nora took a step back, then leaned even further back, cocking her right leg and launching a side kick into the man's stomach. He grunted and folded over. She hopped, landing on her right foot and bringing her left up in a front snap kick that impacted the man's face, rocking him back to fall on his ass.
A crowd had gathered, including some guards who did nothing to stop the fight. The man was back on his feet with a roar, coming in and sending wild swing after wild swing at Nora, who blocked every one with ease. She rammed a palm strike into his face, then an uppercut that lifted him off his feet to the ohs and awes of the crowd. The man landed on his back and groaned.
“Who hired you to beat me?” Nora growled, going to her knees beside the man and grinding his head into the stone floor.
“I can't tell you.”
“Speak,” she said, giving him a hard slap across the face.
“Nepos. Nepos hired me.”
Just the man I want to see, thought Nora, rising to her feet.
“You need to leave well enough alone, stranger,” said a female guard. “We handle our own here, and don't need the interference of outsiders.”
Nora didn't say a word as she walked away. Obviously, they did need someone to look into things since they weren't doing it themselves. She asked directions to Nepos' house. Some ignored her, others pointed the way, and she climbed up the ramps to the cliff face to the north part of the city and a large golden door. A servant answered her knock.
“I would like to see Nepos,” Nora told the woman.
“And whom might I say is asking for the master?” asked the pretty Reachwoman, a short blade at her side.
“Someone he will want to speak to.”
“Let her in,” said a voice, and the maid motioned Nora to enter the house.
“I'm sorry about my housekeeper,” said an old man seated in front of a fire. “She's a little protective of me. Now, what is it you want?”
“I understand that you sent Weylin to kill Margret,” Nora said, getting right to the point.
“Ah, yes. You've proven to be a real bloodhound,” said Nepos, waving a hand. “Well, you've sniffed me out. I've been playing this game for almost twenty years. Sending the young to their deaths. All in the name of the Forsworn. And I'm tired. So tired.”
“So you’re a monster,” said Nora, letting her awareness expand until she was certain of the positions of everyone in the room.
“A monster? No. I'm just a servant. To my king, Madanach.”
“Who is Madanach?”
“Oh dear. If you don't know who he is, perhaps I've said too much.”
“Why are you following the orders of this Madanach?”
“When the uprising fell at the hands of the Nords, they threw him in the mines. I don't know how, but he lives. I get his messages, and I hand out his orders without question.
“Markarth and the Reach are our lands,” continued the old man. “That is why we are the Forsworn. We cannot claim the home that is rightly ours. But then during their war with the elves, we had our moment. We drove the Nords out of the Reach in a great uprising. Then Ulfric and his men came. Those of us who didn't run were executed, except for myself, my king, and a handful of others.”
“So it’s all about revenge?”
“He is the King in Rags,” said Nepos, as if Nora hadn't spoken. “A man who once held all the Reach within his grip. He stokes the passions of the downtrodden in this city. Directs them to kill the enemies of the Forsworn in our name. All from inside Cidhna Mine. A Nord prison. The irony is quite thick.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“My dear girl, what makes you think you're getting out of here alive? You were not seen coming in. The girl at the door is a Forsworn agent masquerading as a maid. You aren't the first one to have gotten this far. You won't be the last.”
Nora felt the movement, the sound of weapons being drawn. Nepos started to call up a spell. Nora shouted, time slowed, and she moved. First she kicked Nepos in the head, stunning him and breaking his spell. She spun on her left heel and launched a right hook kick into the maid, sending her flying across the room, blade dropping from her hand. She ran at the other two, who were trying to get their own weapons up and punched both in the face, rocking their heads back.
Time returned to normal. Nepos was choking, not able to get air into his lungs, and Nora wanted to heal him, but the three servants were recovering and back on the attack. It took time to subdue them, but she did, but by that time Nepos, and old man who was tired of committing bloody deeds, was dead. Nora grabbed the maid's knife and executed the other Forsworn agents. The fewer witnesses the better. The she searched Nepos, found his journal, and plopped down in a chair to read.
It was a chilling tale of multiple conspiracies. Of a king in the mines, still controlling his kingdom of killers. Of the Silver-Blood family using the Forsworn controlled by Madanach to institute a reign of terror that allowed them to buy up the reach at bargain prices. And those who didn't sell could expect a visit from a Forsworn raiding party, and then their heirs would be encouraged to sell. That was how the Silver-Bloods had amassed their fortune, and Nora thought it was time to stop them.
She crept out of the house, making sure she wasn't seen, then cast Invisibility, moving down the ramps until she was well away from the house. Making sure she was still out of sight, she cast teleportation and materialized on the other side of the stables. After that she walked back into Markarth, making sure that the guards saw her, establishing her alibi.
“I need to talk to you,” said a man she had seen in the square the day Weylin had tried to kill Margret. “Tonight. Midnight. At the temple of Talos.” And then the man was gone, blending into the market crowd.
One last lead to follow, and Nora made her way to the Treasury House, which seemed to be the real seat of power in Markarth.
“Master Thonar is not to be disturbed,” said the woman at the desk, who would not be convinced otherwise.
Nora stepped out of sight and cast invisibility, then went in search of the man herself. Invisibility was broken whenever she drew a weapon or opened a door, but with some planning she could get around those obstacles. Open a door quickly, recast, and go through. She finally found Thonar Silver-Blood sitting in a room that was office and bedroom. She sat in the chair across from him, regaining visibility. The man seemed unsurprised to see her.
“Those damned Forsworn.” he cried. “I had them under control, with their king in my hands. But now they have gotten out of control. They..”
A cry from the other room had Thonar on his feet and charging out, to find that his wife was dead at her desk, two of the cleaning crew with knives out and coming at them. Nora attacked, blocking clumsy strikes and driving blows into their heads, knocking them unconscious.
“No,” groaned Thonar, cradling his wife's head in his hands. “No.”
Nora thought it best to leave. She went back to the inn and found Margret, filling her in on everything she had learned.
“It's about time to clean out this nest of snakes,” said the agent. “I have a team of Oculotis agents here in the city, ready to move on my word.”
“The young man, Eltrys, asked to meet with me at the Temple of Talos tonight,” said Nora. “Perhaps I should see what he has to say. It might give us more information.”
“Do that. But be careful.”
“Where's everyone else?” Nora asked Elesia, the only companion in the inn.
“Oh, they're out and about.”
“Well, I won't be back until well after midnight. So don't wait up.”
“Do you think that's wise, Nora?”
“I'm a big girl and can take care of myself.” With that Nora was out the door. She had time to kill, so she wandered the town, listening in on conversations, having tea at a cafe' that overlooked the bowl of the city. Most everyone was talking about the Forsworn, and the Jarl's inability to control them. Yes, there needed to be changes in this city, and soon, or the pot would boil over. Her implant told her it was just past midnight, and she got up and hurried to the temple.
As soon as she entered she knew the meeting had gone very wrong. The body of Eltrys lay in its own blood at the base of the statue. Then a half dozen Markarth guards stepped out of the shadows. The doors opened behind her and five more stepped into the temple. She glanced back to see that two of the newcomers had crossbows pointed at her, while two of the original half dozen had drawn bows.
This ought to be good she thought, bringing up her teleport spell. The problem with the spell was it took three or four seconds to cast, and she, being in robes, could be skewered by four bolts and arrows before she got it off.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Eltrys, stranger. You will come with us. Or you will die.”
“What did you do to Eltrys?”
“Us. It looks like it was done by you. We warned you, but you just had to go and cause trouble. Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work. Work. Work.”
“But, Madanach is behind these killings!” exclaimed Nora, sure that there was some mistake here.
“You think you're the only one who knows that?” asked the guard captain. “We had a nice little deal going between Thonar and Madanach until you showed up. You'll have plenty of time to take it up with the King in Rags while you're serving a life sentence in Cidhna Mine.”
“Very well. Take me before the Jarl so he can pass judgment,” said Nora. Once she established herself as a Thane of three Holds she was sure she would be free and the real criminals sentenced. Two of the guards grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her, tying her with strong cords.
“Oh, the Jarl is much too busy to deal with the likes of you,” said the laughing captain. “We'll take care of the problem ourselves. And don't try anything, unless you want a bolt through you.”
Nora had demonstrated her capabilities before too many people in this city. The guard knew how dangerous she was and weren't taking any chances. And with her hands tied behind her back she couldn't even cast any spells. She still had the Thu'um, but the guards were all around her, and if she shouted they would put bolts or arrows into her.
They led her to the guard barracks and she wondered what was going on. When she was dragged into a large room with furs on the floor she knew what was going to happen, and her stomach turned. A guard opened the belt on her robes, then tossed it and her sheathed sword aside. He then ripped off the robe. Another reached for and pulled down her panties, then ripped her chest covering from her, leaving her naked and shivering. And the guards started to undo their own clothing, until several of them stood before her with exposed penises, hardening.
“No,” she screamed. Not rape. She wouldn't let them do this. However, she was limited in her response, and when several of the guards pushed her to the floor on her stomach her responses became even more limited. She felt one of the guards climb onto her back, then something probing at the entrance to her vagina. The guard shoved his penis into her dry vagina while Nora grunted in pain. He started thrusting in and out, a painful sawing that brought tears to her eyes. This was not sex. It was violence, these man taking her against her will, degrading her, harming her.
“Suck my cock, bitch,” growled another guard, shoving his penis in her face. “And don't you dare bite,” said the man, holding a sharp dagger in front of her eyes. “I'll cut your throat if you do.”
Nora kept her mouth shut, but another guard pressed the sides of her jaw and forced it open, while the guard who had threatened her shoved his cock in her mouth. She wasn't about to give him any cooperation, and the man slapped her head hard, then started face fucking her.
The man on her back grunted and shot a load into her pussy. She normally liked the feel of a man Cuming in her, but this felt like something foul going in. He got off and another guard got on, shoving his prick into her to start thrusting. The cock in her mouth swelled and a huge load of cum flooded her mouth. She choked as some ran down her throat, and she spit what she could out, just before another cock forced itself into her mouth.
The second man came in her pussy, more foul seed leaking from her vagina. At least they had provided their own lubrication so it didn't rub her raw. She still hated it, having no desire to feel anything but hate and anger through this ordeal. Another cock probed at her, and this time she knew this man was going for another opening.
“No. Not that,” she cried, getting another punch to the head for her efforts. The man pushed in through her anus, another painful penetration that led to raw friction.
At least I don't have to look at their faces, she thought as another cock spurted in her mouth. She tried to get all the seed out of her mouth, but another penis took its place before she could clean herself out.
It went on for hours, a score of guards using her over and over. When her pussy got too sloppy some started to jack their dicks, sending streams of cum onto her face and body. Into her hair. She couldn't do anything except rage inside and plan how she was going to kill all of these people when she got the chance.
“Let's clean her up and get her to the prison. Let those sex starved men have a chance at her.”
A bucket of ice-cold water fell on her, then another. She was pulled to her feet, shivering. A rope was tied around her neck and she was dragged from the guard barracks, out onto the streets of Markarth, naked and with seed running down her legs from vagina and anus. They walked her in front of people the half mile to the mines, letting her feel all the shame and degradation. And then they had her in the mine, the gate closing behind her, and she remembered. No one escapes from Cidhna mines. Well, she would be the first, and every man jack who had participated in her rape would die.
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