A Stranger in Skyrim 13

Chapter Thirteen: Lucky

In which people die horribly.

She gave the potion a moment or two to work. Slowly, she noticed an odd tingling penetrate the numbness in her left shoulder. She turned, slowly. The woman was struggling to sit up, glaring at her as the twitching slowly subsided.

She pointed at the woman with her sword, and another burst of sparks coalesced at the tip. “I don't want to kill you,” she announced tiredly. “Just … go.”

Lightning crawled towards the woman, who flinched away.

“I mean it. Get. The fuck. Away from me.”

The woman scrambled backwards, then ran like a bitch.

Okay. So.

She was still injured. That was still a thing.

She poked the man's corpse in the side with her toe glaring down at him. He was wearing heavy fur clothing, with a heavy fur cloak. He'd also bled all over the front of it. Bastard.

So yeah, injured.

She reached up with her right hand. Now that the black spots had cleared from her vision, she could think clearly, if slowly. She focused on the idea of warmth and life, of green energy suffusing the wound with light. Slowly, feeling returned to the fingertips on her left hand.

Good. Great. That was fantastic. She shook her hand out to get rid of the worst of the tingles.

Meanwhile, she was pretty sure she was freezing to death. She dragged the man's corpse, one-handed, into the tower. That done, she began the process of carefully peeling his clothing from his body, because the warm fur would do her more good in the cold than the thin robe. Actually …

She looked down, thoughtfully.

Yeah, that would work.

Dropping most of her gear, she pulled the robe up over her head, dancing from foot to foot because gods all damn but it was cold. That done, she pulled the fur clothing on, one pant leg at a time, then the nice warm shirt, then the nice warm vest, then the nice warm gauntlets that still managed to leave her fingers free. That done, she tugged the robe on over the top of the whole ensemble. Much better. The hood went back up, and she was actually pretty warm now. Finally, she fastened the heavy, fur cloak around her shoulders. It was stylish, and she knew firsthand that something like that would most likely help keep the cold out.

She reclaimed the rest of the gear, of course. There was, however, one last thing left to do. She'd ditched the longbow and arrows at Alvor's place, not figuring she was a good enough shot to make it worthwhile. A crossbow, however? Point and click? She was pretty sure she could handle that. She slung the quiver of crossbow bolts over her shoulder, then collected the weapon from the man's cold, dead hands.

She looked at the staircase leading up the tower, then decided to see what all the damn fuss was about. She swiped a coinpurse from a table just inside the doorway, then trudged up the long flight of stairs.

She found a chest at the very frigid top of the tower. Lying on top of it, she found a short-handled axe. Inside, she found a handful of gold.

She could have skipped this whole misguided endeavor and been happy.

Good to know.

She trudged back down the long flight of stairs, then corrected her route. If this wasn't an old Nord tomb, then she'd taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque. Or somewhere in that general vicinity, anyway. She found a side path that led left, right up the hill to her ultimate destination, which had always been the series of stone archways that marked Bleak Falls Barrow.

She didn't like the looks of it. Nor did she like the idea of killing more men, but, well, she could justify it. They would happily murder her, or worse, if she let them, just for the little coin in her backpack. They had stolen, and would steal again.

Murderers and thieves. She could make herself kill murderers and thieves.

It took her a moment or two to work the crossbow, but once she figured out how it loaded, it seemed easy enough. She held it at the ready, heading up the long staircase that led up the hill.

A man greeted her with a mace and not much else. He was within a couple of feet when she shot him in the stomach. He staggered, she punched him in the face with the crossbow, he fell to the ground, clutching his face and moaning. Easy.

A bolt whizzed past her head, she whirled around to find the archer. Another bolt caught her directly in the windpipe. She fell to her knees, clutching the wound. She heard an odd, gurgling noise emerge from her throat, and she tasted blood. The world went gray around the edges. An arrow pierced her chest from behind knocking her off her feet. She cracked her head forehead on the ground, and the world went completely dark.

She held her crossbow at the ready, heading up the stairway towards Bleak Falls Barrow. Something tickled the edges of her awareness, but she ignored it. The bandits would be tough to kill. What in the name of all the Gods had possessed her to think she could handle this alone?

A man charged down the stairs at her, mace in hand. She shot him in the stomach, and he tumbled down past her – she'd worry about him later. She walked the rest of the way up the stairs. A woman with a bow stood on her right, a man with a crossbow stood on her left. The woman fired, and she barely scampered out of the way. She dropped her own crossbow and ran as fast as she could towards the woman. The woman was drawing her bow. She ducked to the side, getting up close, too close for the bow to do any good. She put her hand to the woman's face and prayed to no one in particular.

Flesh melted as she burned the screaming woman alive.

Yep. She was going to have all kinds of nightmares if she managed to survive.

Crossbow had graduated from the Imperial Stormtrooper Marksmanship Academy, and the bolt sunk home into Longbow's belly. If the woman hadn't already been dead – wait, no, Longbow doubled over, sobbing. Right, she'd worry about Longbow in a moment. Right now – she whirled on Crossbow. Lightning arced between them. She didn't let the spell go until she was certain he wasn't getting back up – then she walked back towards him. Just to be totally sure, she set him on fire with her mind.

Good times. Still going to have nightmares.

She collected her crossbow from where it had fallen, shaking her head softly. These bandits must have been amateurs, if even she could handle them that easily.

That done, she looked around to ensure she was really alone, before heading up the stairs into the tomb itself, closing the door behind her as quietly as humanly possible. She'd made the practice of stealth a habit, even inside her own home; she could manage quiet.

Two people were talking ahead, a man and a woman.

She raised the crossbow to her eye, lining it up with the woman, then aiming ever so slightly up. She fired – the bolt sailed true, catching the woman off-guard. The recoil of the weapon kicked it back into her nose. Ow. That hurt. The man came to investigate. Hanging the crossbow awkwardly from her belt, she shot lightning at him from both hands until he, too, lay unmoving. He didn't seem to be breathing, but she had to make sure. There was no sense in letting her enemies live.

She set him on fire, too.

Hooray.

They had a fire (with wood for fuel, not people) ready for her. How thoughtful. She collapsed on the heavy fur-lined bedroll someone had kindly set up next to it –

– and fell backwards out of her chair, cursing loudly as she crashed to the ground.