Skyrim: Rise of the Dragonborn

Chapter 13: Kazim

Beric eyed the four arrows pointed at them and tried not to think of how they would feel going into his chest. He glanced at Drake who was obviously tensed up. The bandits had already taken their weapons and made them stand in front of what looked like a coffin.

"So, what are two imperial soldiers doing rooting around in a Nordic crypt?" said the same rough voice that made them freeze a few moments ago.

"We're not Imperial soldiers," Drake answered.

"Of course not," the bulky Nord said laughing, "I'm sure you just found the armor on the road some place,"

"It was given to us by a soldier in Helgen,"

"Ha, now tell me the one about the troll that sneaks into little boys and girls houses and grants them wishes!" he said initiating a chuckle among the brigands, "We've been seeing the smoke from Helgen for two full days now, and both of you reek of Cirodiil. Now tell me what the Imperial Legion wants with this tomb,"

"I've already told you, we're not part of the Imperial Legion," Drake shook his head and shrugged.

"Well, then, seems as you don't have anything useful to tell us, it looks like you two are only good for target practice," the bandit said holding his hand up getting ready to signal the archers to fire.

"Hold it," came a deep but raspy voice. The expression on the bandit's face turned from confidant to terrified. The voice had the same grind as Reshi's had. It had to be a Khajiit, "What's going on here?" the voice demanded. As the archers lowered their bows and looked behind them, they immediately stepped out of the way of a Khajiit wearing a leather cuirass covered by a brown cloak.

"K-Kazim, uh, we were just dealing with some intruders. We caught them sniffing around. Most likely Imperial scouts," the Nord explained motioning to Drake and Beric. Kazim looked them over.

"Your lack of intelligence never ceases to amaze me," the Khajiit muttered, "These aren't Imperial soldiers. Their uniforms aren't in proper order. Imperial soldiers keep better care of their uniforms and make sure it's neater that that," he said motioning to Beric and Drake's torso, "Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I'm surprised that a brute such as yourself missed that," Kazim muttered as he walked over to Beric and Drake. He inspected them closely. He looked up and down Drake's height and sniffed, "Fresh meat. You haven't been in Skyrim a full week yet. I smell a little smoke on you,"

"We were at Helgen," Drake explained.

"I didn't ask for your story," Kazim said calmly moving on to Beric. He stopped for a moment, looked him over suspiciously, and sniffed a few times, "Have we met?" he asked eyeing Beric.

"Not that I'm aware," Beric said nervously.

"Strange, I never forget a face. And yours is very familiar. You even smell familiar. Faces and smells rarely line up. Whereabouts in Cirodiil did you come from?"

"The Ca-" Beric began before Drake coughed.

"South of Bruma. We were farmers," Drake answered quickly.

"Is that so?" Kazim raised an eyebrow, "I smell a rat," he spat onto the stone floor. Just then the door to the crypt was pushed open. A younger man rushed in causing Kazim to turn around.

"It's Heimlof and Tharni!" the young man panted, "They're both dead,"

"How?" the big bulky Nord responded in a panic.

"Heimlof has two arrows in his chest and Tharni's head is cracked open,"

"No!" the brute cried out and turned around and snarled at Beric and Drake, "Heimlof was my brother!" he growled, "You killed him!" Beric's stomach nearly turned inside out as the brawny Nord pointed at him and started stomping toward him, "I'll tear you apart with my bare hands!"

Drake immediately stood in front of Beric and readied himself to fight the barbarian. Drake was a half of a head taller, but the Nord was just as muscular. Just when Beric felt that he was about to leave this world very soon, he heard a sharp Shing!. Beric looked up to see Kazim holding a sword and standing in between them and the Nord.

"Don't get in my way, Kazim,"

"I'll do as I please, Clout,"

"I'll kill you if you do this,"

"I'm shaking in my boots," Kazim muttered under his breath, "I don't want this one dead until I know who he reminds me of. I don't want it to come back and bite me in the tale,"

"If you don't get out of my way, I'll rip your tale off myself!" the Nord said making a ripping gesture with his thick hands.

"You can try, but I doubt a clumsy oaf such as yourself would get very far. If I were you, I'd rethink my approach to your problem here. Before I found you, you were struggling to take a coin purse from an old woman, and now, we're on the verge of uncovering a treasure hoard of one the ancient Nords. You kill me, you destroy your chances of reaching it. I also highly doubt you have the mental capacity to open the door when we get to it,"

"I don't care about the treasure hoard! That brat killed my brother!" the Nord said pulling a small axe off his hip, "This is your last warning,"

"Archers," Kazim said sighing, "Rid me of his stench,"

"I'm sorry," said one of the archers, "Normally I would, but Heimlof was one of our best. I won't prevent his brother from avenging him," he said pulling an arrow and aiming it at Kazim, "Nor will I let you,"

"How unfortunate for you," Kazim growled. The Khajiit glanced at the door and then at the tunnel at the other end. The Nord then lunged at him and rammed the handle of his axe across his snout. Kazim stumbled back a few paces and fell to the ground with a panther's growl. Drake immediately swung a fist at the Nord and caught him square in the jaw causing him to yell in pain. He reached down for the axe, but before he grabbed it, an arrow went into his shoulder. Drake gripped his shoulder as he gritted his teeth and fell to one knee.

"Drake!" Beric yelled as he rushed to his side. He then felt a large strong hand grab his shoulder and throw him into a column. He fell to his knees and coughed from the blow to his back. As he inhaled deeply, the same hand grabbed his collar and lifted him up. Beric was about to plead with the Nord when a large fist that felt like a rock hit him in the gut as hard as Warhammer, knocking all the wind out of him. Before he had a chance to cough and sputter, the brute grabbed his hair, pulled his head up, and threw the same fist into the side of his head. Beric felt his head slam into the stony ground before he knew what hit him. As he writhed in pain, he felt a boot slam into his stomach. He then felt the hand once more grab his lapel and lift him up. He barely opened his eyes and looked into snarling, bearded face of the Nord. His lip was bleeding, and his mouth had a good bit of blood in it. He reared his fist back once again and hit him on his cheekbone. Then higher on his eyebrow. Then on his jaw, knocking him to the ground. Beric was out cold before he left the bandit's grip...