Walk by the Shadows

XVIII. Casting Shadows

On the extremely long ride to Riften, she could do nothing but watch the woman writhe in pain and in fever, mumbling incomprehensible phrases and unfinished sentences. Karliah had had a time dragging the woman Mercer called Macayla out of Snow Veil Sanctum. She feared the streaks of blood the limp form left in the snow would attract predators, but once she reached her camp, found that they had already arrived, feasting on her slain horse. She had to quickly drop Macayla as the ice-wolves turned on her and attacked; three others came from a cluster of trees, maws bloody from feasting on some other dead animal.

She finished them all and dragged Macayla all the way into her camp, set on treating the viscous wound Mercer left her so she wouldn't die. The paralytic poison she shot her with slows the heart so she wasn't in danger of bleeding out. She wasn't sure what poison Mercer had used, but from what she had heard, it was guaranteed to kill.

Karliah cut the woman's shirt, creating better access to the wound. Bright and dark blood oozed out of the deep wound. Her poison tipped arrow looked to be the only thing keeping her alive.

Near the wound was a foreign dark-green liquid. She swiped some up on her finger, tasted it, and quickly spit it out. She cursed. It was a deadly poison made from the Jarrin root. If it had been on an arrow, Karliah could've cut the wound and sucked it out, but Mercer had stabbed her deep; the poison was in her bloodstream by now and killing her organs.

She looked at the poor woman. Karliah didn't have enough healing potions or restoration knowledge to save her. It was a shame she decided to shoot her to save her from Mercer, only to watch her die.

But she felt of her skin; she wasn't sweating yet from fever. That was good. Her body was putting up a fight; the poison hadn't been absorbed. She didn't know of any healers in Winterhold—if there were some in the College, you had to be a member to get access to them—but she knew of one in Riften, and in the Thieves Guild. Cynric Endell.

Karliah glanced at Macayla again, wondering if she would survive the trip and if venturing straight into the lion's den was the best idea. But she had to chance it. This woman could help prove her innocence from hearing what Mercer had said. Her plan to return to Snow Veil Sanctum, retrieve Gallus' journal for proof of Mercer's betrayal, and shooting him with the paralytic arrow to drag him back to Riften and answer for his crimes had failed. Gallus' journal was encrypted in some foreign language and seeing Macayla had forced her hand. The woman was her last chance, so she had to survive. She just had to.

After wrapping Macayla up tightly for warmth, she made a quick litter, and pulled her to the city of Winterhold, and rented the carriage. She paid the driver triple to forget what he saw, not ask questions and to hurry to Riften.

They reached Darkwater Crossing—only an hour left of travel—when Macayla turned feverish. It happened much later than Karliah had expected, but this still wasn't good news; it meant that the poison had finally been absorbed. She began to thrash, so Karliah wrapped her up tighter so she wouldn't hurt herself. Her incoherent mumblings caught the carriage driver's attention.

He glanced back at them. "Is she going to be alright?"

Karliah bit her fingernail as she watched the semiconscious woman suffer. "I don't know; she's dying."

So much was riding on Macayla's shoulders: not only her own will to survive, but Karliah's life, her redemption, and the lives of all those members in the Thieves Guild. If she died before they got to Riften, Karliah could call her life lost: the Thieves Guild would kill her without proof of her innocence and they were re-establishing their footholds in Skyrim so she wouldn't be able to hide much longer, and Mercer would kill her to keep her quiet.

Thinking of their sudden revitalization, it had to be attributed to Macayla joining them. Ever since Gallus died, the Thieves Guild had been in constant decline. She had no doubt that Mercer had caused it, but she was more scared of what she suspected: Mercer getting through those doors impossible to unlock without their keys meant—