The Great War-A Skyrim Fanfiction-Book One

Chapter Two

Talen-Glim had never had to deal with any real danger. The closest he had come was when he left Black Marsh. With the Aldemeri Dominion in control, ready to take over the Empire, he knew staying there would only make things worse for him. At the time, no one was permitted to enter or exit the province, so Talen had to be very careful. He had little anyways, but all he packed was what he could carry in a small rucksack. He wouldn't have been much older than fifteen, but he had always lived a life of solitude, since all of his family was either dead or in Cyrodil. He debated going there, but knew the borders would be heavily watched and even if he did make it in, the Thalmor would have all their attention on it. The safest place for him was Skyrim. After telling a select few of his friends, he gathered what he could and in the middle of the night he ran. He lived in Stormhold, which was just south of the border of Morrowind, so his journey would be swift. He remembered little of the journey, but one part stuck in his head like an icicle to the roof. He had just passed the border when a voice came from behind him. It was a Thalmor, telling him to turn around or to face the consequences. Talen just ran. His legs were sore and his back tired, but he didn't stop until dawn.

Now, Talen was, yet again, in danger, but this time he feared that he wouldn't make it out alive. The body holding him down was strong, and whenever Talen squirmed his legs struck against a hard clothing of some sort. He fought for his life, arms waving, legs kicking, and then remembered his sword. His right arm felt around for hit next to his bed, and his fingers clenched around the cold, hard metal that could save his life tonight. He struggled with the blade, slowly bringing it up, but before he could strike, he heard a voice. "Shh," it said in a whisper. "I'm here to help."

Talen wasn't sure whether to believe it or not, but soon he didn't have to, as his captor let go of him. Talen noticed he was shaking, and slowly sat up, breathing heavily.

"Who are you?" he said. "What's going on?"

"Quiet! She'll here us," said the person, again softly. Talen could now tell that it was a woman, but couldn't tell what race. Maybe an elf of some sort, he thought. At the moment, however, he was more concerned about the "she".

"Who?" he asked softly.

"Well, there's an assassin somewhere in this building and I'm pretty sure she's targeting you. Get up and come over to me."

Talen couldn't believe his ears. An assassin was after him? What could it be about? Maybe it had to do with the Thalmor, he thought with a grimace. Could they still be after him after he ran away, all those years ago? Slowly getting up, he tried to follow her voice. Despite knowing the layout of his room better than a farmer knows what crops he grows, he bumped into the dresser by his bed and nearly knocked over a pile of books.

"Can I get some light?" he asked, annoyed.

"No problem," came the voice again.

Suddenly a ball of fire appeared in the person's hand, and for the first time Talen could see who he was talking to. The woman was dressed in some sort of grey cloaked armor, with both a hood and face mask. She was quite tall, an inch or so over Talen. Around her waist were two black swords, and on her back a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows. He was impressed by everything so far, but by far the most interesting thing about her was the fire sitting in her palm. It wasn't the brightest, but if there was an assassin nearby he was grateful for that. The fire glowed a brilliant shade of red, one that matched perfectly any hearth, or even with the brilliant hue of dragonfire.

"...How?" he asked.

"The magic? Oh, it's in my blood. I'm an Altmer," she replied.

"Are you with...the Thalmor?"