The New Faces of Skyrim

Chapter Eleven - Aira

Mynil didn't come back.

At least, not as soon as Qa'shan seemed to expect. Secretly, Aira was surprised, too. He had seemed so shaky, his hair such a wild, nervous mess Aira suspected one could find sticks and leaves in it.

In the meantime, she and Dunane had slowly scouted the caverns, sharing their odd finds with each other. Dunane had already collected a substantial stack of books, and Aira had occupied herself with counting plates.

Since when did vampires need plates anyway?

There was no sign of the ebony blade, either. Even after eyeing the bodies from a distance and then rolling them with her foot up close. She did find a dagger made from bone, however, and had quickly tucked it into her pack.

Qa'shan had spent her time perched on top of a rock ledge, cleaning her sword. She barely twitched an ear whenever Aira tried to talk to her, instead keeping her eyes trained on the tunnel that led into the chamber.

"Did you find it?" Dunane asked, sitting next to her on one of the benches. They all faced towards an alter, and Aira couldn't help wondering what had been preached in a dank cavern full of vampires. Nothing good, she assumed.

She shook her head. "Nah. But I found a dragonbone dagger."

"Are you going to keep it?"

"Haven't decided."

"Keep it," said a new voice. "You don't find those often."

Aira turned just as a Dunmer hopped down onto the main floor. His armor matched Qa'shan's, dark red and black. A sword hung against both of his hips, each one fitted with a long, jagged, and cruel-looking blade.

He had a certain prowl that made Aira tense, his eyes raking across the cavern as he walked the length of it and back. "No Brandr?"

"No." Qa'shan slid down from her lookout point. "This one didn't think you would come."

The Dunmer hesitated, glancing over his shoulder to where Mynil stood. "I wasn't going to," he admitted, "but you can thank Fire-Hands here for convincing me."

Qa'shan turned on Mynil, who quickly looked away.

"What do we call you?" Dunane asked. He stood next to Aira, practically shaking with excitement. "Aryon? Azaril? Dragonborn?"

"Azaril," came the curt reply. There wasn't a trace of emotion on Azaril's face, Aira realized, feeling suddenly uneasy. "I'm not the Dragonborn anymore."

Dunane's shoulders sagged.

Mynil cleared his throat. "Azaril will help us, but only if you promise not to breath a word of his involvement or who he actually is. After Brandr is dead, he goes back to the Brotherhood."

Qa'shan bristled. "You worked out an agreement without Qa'shan?"

Azaril opened his mouth to speak, but Aira beat him to it.

"That's all? But you're the Dragonborn. What if Brandr isn't the end of this?"

Dunane put a hand on her shoulder. "Aira."