A Stranger in Skyrim 12

Chapter Twelve: Bandits

In which she finally ditches the Nirnroot.

Walking outside, she realized the reason she hadn't seen anyone on her way out of the inn was that it was still the early hours of the morning.

Also? It was raining again.

She grumbled a little bit, then pulled the hood up over her head again.

She made her way down the massive hill that Whiterun had been built upon, noting absently that her legs ached from all the walking she'd done the day before. She sent a wave of soothing, mint-green energy down through her body, and was rewarded with a cessation of pain.

Good times.

She passed the housecarl and three guards talking in quiet tones. The men seemed to be arguing a bit – they didn't want to face off against a dragon alone, but then, no one sane would – while the housecarl assured them that they wouldn't have to. After all, their job was mostly to keep the townsfolk safe. No one expected them to take out a dragon on their own.

Why there hadn't been guards posted in Riverwood before was a mystery for the ages, she was sure.

She headed out the massive gates as the rain abated. Heat lightning still hung overhead, thunder following, and thick clouds obscured the sun as it began to peek up over the misty mountains.

The trip back to Riverwood was largely uneventful. She passed a black man who was burdened by supplies. He told her that he was on his way to Windhelm to join up with the Stormcloaks. She shook her head as she passed him. She didn't know which side to support in the war – she simply did not have enough information to make a decision – but from what she could tell, the Stormcloaks were the instigators, here. She wasn't sure she wanted to pick the side that started the fight.

The stupid plant was still making noise in her backpack, though the noise had grown faint enough she was sure she was the only one who could hear it. She decided she'd have to get rid of it – maybe it was valuable to someone?

So, passing a couple of children who were playing tag, she headed towards the building that proclaimed itself to be the “Riverwood Trader.” Its sign was a set of scales.

“Well, one of us has to do something!” A woman's voice announced as she pushed open the door.

The man behind the counter placed both hands on it, leaning forward. “I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief chasing!”

“Well what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!” The woman sounded upset.

“We are done talking about this.” His gaze slid towards Mariah. “Oh – ahem – a customer. Sorry you had to hear that ...”

She smiled. “It's all right. What were you two arguing about, if I may?” She walked up to the counter.

“Oh, we had a bit of a – ah – a break-in. But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing.” He sighed. “It was an ornament, solid gold, in the shape of a dragon's claw.”

She considered. “If I help you get that claw back, would there be money in it for me?” Sure, she had a mission to complete, but she had also discovered a powerful need to eat, drink, and sleep. Strange how those things became a priority when they were no longer a sure bet.

“I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment,” he said. “It's yours if you bring my claw back.”

She nodded. “All right, I'm in.”

“Now if you're going to get those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town.” Oh, wasn't that convenient.  

The woman folded her arms, sounding unimpressed. “So this is your plan, Lucan?”

“Yes,” he said smugly. “So now you don't have to go, do you?”

She looked Mariah over, appraisingly. “Well, I think your new helper here needs a guide.”

“Wh – no I – oh, by the Eight, fine, but only to the edge of town!”

The woman sighed, heading for the door.

“Only to the edge of town, you hear me?”

The woman turned back, one hand on her hip, the other on the doorknob. “I heard you.”

“Good.”

Mariah decided she should probably speak up about the plant now, or forever hold her peace. “Before I go – I did want to do a little business. You see, I found this plant ….”

“A plant, hm? Do you know what kind?”

She shook her head. “I was actually kind of hoping you could tell me.” She shifted her backpack around, setting it on the counter. She produced the slightly-crushed plant from the bag. It still glowed, ever so faintly, and the chiming was somewhat louder outside of her backpack.

“That's a Nirnroot,” he said. “Yes – I could part with a few gold for that.” He counted out a small handful of gold pieces, pushed them towards her. She took them, handing over the plant. “Tell you what, you find any other interesting herbs, bring them to me. I'll give you a fair price.”

She smiled brightly. “Thanks. I'm new to Skyrim, and I don't really have a lot of money.”

“Ah, well. You seem like a good kid, I'm sure you'll figure something out. Now shoo, off to Bleak Falls Barrow with you.”

Nodding at him, she headed out of the shop. She decided not to mention that she was already headed that way for her own reasons. Why ruin a good thing? As far as he was concerned, she was delving into a dangerous ruin to fight off bandits – why had Farengar not mentioned the bandits? – just for his claw.

She wouldn't spoil that for him.

“We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow. You can see it from here, though – it's the mountain just over the buildings.” She began walking towards the bridge. “Those thieves must be mad, hiding out there. Those old crypts are filled with nothing but traps, trolls, and who knows what else!” Trolls? Well, all trolls are different. Maybe they'd be friendly, with Jamaican accents and blue-green skin? She could only hope for such luck.

The woman sounded thoughtful as she continued speaking, heedless of Mariah's odd train of thought. “I wonder why they only stole my brother's golden claw. I mean, we have plenty of things in the shop worth just as much coin.”

“Where did he get the claw from, anyway?”

She looked back at Mariah. “Lucan found the claw about a year after he opened the store. He never quite explained where he got it. He's a tricky one.”

Good times.

“This is the bridge out of town,” she said, gesturing across it. “The path up the mountain to the northwest leads to Bleak Falls Barrow. I should get back to my brother. He'll throw a fit if I take too long. Such a child ….”

Mariah smiled at her. “Your brother loves you, it sounds like.”

“Oh, sure, but it gets to be so tiresome.” She shook her head. “Do you have any siblings?”

Mariah looked off into the distance, towards her goal. “You know, I've always wanted a brother or a sister. Never got my wish though. Mom hasn't exactly had any luck in the romance department, not that she's been looking overly hard.”

“Oh – what happened to your father?”

She scowled slightly, shaking her head. “The bastard left her before I was born. Said she was sleeping around, when she wasn't, wouldn't ever. See, he claimed he was sterile, only he wasn't.”

“That's so sad!”

Mariah looked over at the woman. “Eh, it is what it is. Anyway, Mom's always been good enough for me. I don't need a man in my life, and so far I haven't met a single man who was good enough for her.”

“Oh … I see. Well, I should be getting back.” Apparently, she didn't really have a response for that.

Well, whatever. She waved slightly, then headed across the bridge.

The path to the left wasn't exactly well-maintained, not like the cobbled street was. She found herself climbing an almost vertical slope. She was quite tempted to climb up on hands and knees, but that wouldn't exactly be the best way to introduce herself to a bandit. “Hi, can you wait for me to get back up on my feet before you shoot me? Thanks.” She laughed quietly at herself – but she decided to draw her sword anyway, just in case.

So far, she hadn't reached the part that could actually be called a mountain, just a tall hill. As she ascended it, she noticed snow on the ground, and realized her hands, at least, were getting cold. She flexed her fingers, summoning flame in them.

That warmed them up nicely. She spotted a tower on the left. That didn't look bleak, falls, or barrow, but she figured it couldn't hurt to check it out. Why not?

So she did, only the tower was occupied.

A sentry stood by a tall, snowy tree. The woman drew a weapon and a large shield as she approached.

She held her hands up. “What is this place?” She asked, conversationally.

“You picked a bad time to get lost, friend.” The woman replied. “Turn around, and maybe we'll let you live.”

She looked around. “We?”

An arrow punched through her shoulder, answering that question. She looked down at it, shock numbing the pain.

The woman smiled, only it wasn't a good smile. She lunged forward, bringing her club down where Mariah was, only Mariah had decided that was a good moment to stumble backwards.

She'd been shot.

That was … that was new.

Someone was trying to kill her.

That wasn't as new as it should have been.

She shifted, turning so the woman was between her and the tower. The archer wouldn't be able to get a clear shot at her, she hoped. She tried to move her left arm, but it was useless. The arm hung like so much dead weight. Magic surged through her veins, and lightning shot up the sword, engulfing the woman. The bandit woman shuddered, finding herself unable to move for the electricity coursing through her. She fell to the ground, twitching uncontrollably.

Mariah stepped over her, looking for the person who'd shot her. The wound throbbed with her heartbeat, her vision was going gray around the edges.

She spotted the man, stalking towards him. He was wielding a crossbow, not a normal bow. It took him a moment to load the next bolt, and during that time, she managed to make it up to him. She brought her sword up, right as he shot again. This one went a little wide, grazing her left arm. Too bad for him.

She pointed at him, her sword at his throat. Lightning poured from the tip of the weapon, and he, too, fell down in a twitching mass of flesh. She carved his throat open, the movements mechanical.

She was cold. The bandits had dressed warmly enough; she had not.

She was cold, and her blood was oozing from her wounds – she reached up, yanking at the bolt. She gasped as a fresh wave of pain rolled through her. It didn't come out easily. She groaned, closing her eyes as she tugged at it again. A third yank that drove her to her knees finally ripped the bolt free. Blood spurted all over the snow.

She couldn't focus clearly enough to picture the green light of healing, but then, she realized she didn't have to. She slid the backpack off her shoulders again, wincing as it slid down her left arm.

She fumbled, one-handed, at the strap that held the pack closed, black spots forming over her eyes. She found a vial filled with reddish liquid. Red was good, right?

Well, if it wasn't, she'd just keep trying until she found one that worked, or she died horribly.

One or the other.

She pulled the cork out with her teeth, spat it out onto the ground, and downed the contents in one swallow.

And nothing happened.