XVII

Night had fallen again on the Golden Cane farm. Usually, the Khajiit farmers would have gone back to their homes to celebrate the end of another hard day's work. They would light large bonfires in front of their houses, eat, drink and dance together until late at night. In their culture, the Khajiits lived both day and night.

But tonight there was no feasting, no bonfires, no singing. Almost all the houses had been burnt to the ground and many innocent people had died. No one had the heart to celebrate anything. All the survivors who had not fled had taken refuge inside the villa, which had become a fortress. They were all exhausted after spending the day preparing the defences of the estate.

The perimeter wall had been reinforced and its gaps filled with palisades and barricades. Ditches lined with wooden stakes were ready to repel attackers, and torches had been lit throughout the courtyard to chase away the darkness of the night. While the workers slept in their tents, the guards and volunteers of Captain Tasarr'Do patrolled and kept a vigilant watch. Despite the large number of people in the villa, there was an eerie silence and stillness, disturbed only by the nightly chirping of insects. A curfew had been established for all the residents of the property and no one, apart from the guards and mercenaries, was allowed to go out after sunset.

In one of the villa's private rooms, Captain Flavia was still keeping watch despite the late hour. Sitting at one of the room's desks, she was writing her daily report by candlelight, recounting the day's events in her usual precise and meticulous detail. The captain rested her quill before rubbing her eyes to get rid of the fatigue. She was well aware that her age was beginning to catch up with her and hoped that this mission would soon be over. In any case, this would be the last contract of her mercenary career.

In recent years, Flavia had been feeling more and more tired with each passing mission. It was not only physical fatigue, but also mental fatigue that was slowly eating away at her. She felt like a bowstring that had been strung too long, worn out and ready to break at any moment.

The captain was thinking more and more about leaving the military life. She thought of her sister who had stayed in Cyrodil and ran a tannery. The latter would be only too happy to see her older sister again and had assured her that she would welcome her with open arms. Flavia did not doubt it for a moment, but she did not know if she would manage to get used to civilian life. She had spent most of her life taking and giving orders and was more accustomed to the rudimentary comfort of a bed and a campfire than to the cosy comfort of a feather mattress and a fireplace. She could not imagine herself as a saleswoman or a grocer, and all this seemed to be a distant and strange dream to her. Especially since, for the moment, she had other things to worry about.

Flavia sighed as she read again her notes. She had spent much of the day supervising repairs to the property's perimeter wall. Under her direction, the Khajiit workers had done their best to make the place defensible, but the captain was well aware that it was a rough job. She had to do with what she had on hand and that was still better than nothing. But that was not all she had done. While remaining as discreet as possible, Flavia had observed and questioned many khajiits in the hope of discovering the identity of the traitor hiding among them. Alas, she had found nothing conclusive.

She was sure, however, that it was one of the residents of the estate. But who? One of the farmers? It was not impossible, but Flavia doubted it. The traitor had probably travelled with them from Rimmen. Perhaps one of the caravanners. Several of them had stayed at the Golden Cane farm rather than continue with the rest of the convoy. Some had relatives on the estate while others simply wanted to work in the moon sugar cane fields. The captain also considered that one of the guards might have been involved because, despite Captain Tasarr'Do's loyalty and intransigence, it was not impossible that one of them had been bribed. After all, corruption was a common and ubiquitous phenomenon in Khajiit society. But Flavia was also keeping an eye on other people.

She doubted very much that Lady Toziri had anything to do with this, as she was the princess' aunt and the khajiits placed great importance on family ties. Captain Tasarr'Do had been in the service of Khan Razirr'Ri for many years now and Flavia had been learning more about his past. His father had been one of the many victims of the daedra they now faced and he had a fierce hatred for the demon. As for Councillor Sahkar, Flavia was more mixed.

From the beginning, the old khajiit had shown great distrust of her and her mercenaries and never missed an opportunity to disapprove of their presence. Was he afraid that they would get in the way? The counsellor had also strongly criticised the decision to take the princess out of Rimmen and hide her in Pelletine. Would she have been an easier target within the walls of the capital? Although suspicious in Flavia's eyes, such an attitude was not enough to make a public accusation. Councillor Sahkar had been serving the khan for more than ten years and no one seemed prepared to question his loyalty despite his irascible nature.

Or maybe she was wrong all along. Maybe Gunnar was right and there were no spies among them. If that was the case, Flavia was wasting her time and energy chasing ghosts that didn't exist. But the caution and discipline ingrained in her prevented her from ruling out the possibility that someone was indeed spying on them for their enemy. Like many of the legion's officers, she always expected the worst possible scenario so as not to be caught off guard, and this habit had saved her and the soldiers under her command several times during her career.

But without any clues, Flavia felt as if she was groping in the dark, and this feeling frustrated her. She was so preoccupied with this story that she found it hard to sleep every night. The captain was trying to find a more comfortable position in her chair when heavy footsteps on the floor caught her attention.

- "What is it, Gunnar?" she asked without even turning her head.

- "I've come to make my report," the Nord replied. "The Cat Princess has returned to her room safely."

- "How many men are guarding her?"

- "Two. One cat guard at the door of the room and one outside under her window."

- "Very well. That will be all for today. You can go to bed if you like."

- "I think you need your sleep more than I do, Captain."

Flavia turned her head in his direction, raising an eyebrow.

- "What?"

- "How much sleep did you get last night?"

- "Quite enough."

- "I doubt it, Captain." Gunnar grabbed a chair to sit across from her. "I know you're worried about the whole thing, but that's no reason not to sleep."

- "Do I look that bad?" asked Flavia with a smile.

- "That's no small thing to say, Captain. You have more rings under your eyes than an old prune."

- "I can't afford to sleep now. The enemy could attack at any moment and I must be ready when it comes."

- "The cats are patrolling and standing guard. They won't catch us by surprise like last time."

The captain did not answer, but simply stared at his old comrade with a tired look in his eyes.

- "If that doesn't make you feel better, I'll stand guard too," Gunnar continued, "But you need to get some sleep, Captain. "

- "Captain Tasarr'Do made exactly the same remark to me," she finally replied with a sigh. "Alright, I'll try to get some sleep tonight. "

- "I'm sure that will do you good."

- "Yes... probably." She closed her diary and put it in her bag. "Keep an eye on the surroundings for another couple of hours and if you see that nothing's happening, you can go and get some rest, too," she ordered, pushing back her chair to stand up.

- "Aye, aye, sir. Good night, Captain."

The two mercenaries nodded at each other before Flavia left the office and headed for the outer courtyard. There, she took a deep breath of the cool, crisp night air. She had to admit that Captain Tasarr and Gunnar were right. She really did need to rest, if only a little.

As she made her way to the annex where the mercenaries were staying, the captain took a good look around the courtyard. The farmers and their families were sleeping in their tents while the Khajiit guards and militia patrolled and guarded the perimeter wall with redoubled vigilance. Although severely understaffed, the defenders were doing their best and Flavia was, on the whole, pleased with the preparations.

When she entered their quarters, the captain was surprised to see that Alberic was still awake. Still bedridden, the young Breton had lit a candle and seemed to be concentrating on reading an old book with a damaged binding. He was so absorbed that he had not even noticed the presence of his superior.

- "How are you feeling, Al'?" she asked as she walked past his bed.

- "Ca... captain?" The boy gasped in surprise, nearly dropping his book. "I'm... I'm fine."

- "And your wound?"

- "Much better. According to the healer, my shoulder will be healed within a week. "

- "Did you have a good rest today?"

- "I've been in bed all day. "

- "So that's good. "

Flavia nodded and went to her bed. She placed her bag at the foot of the bed and sat down on the sheets with a grimace. The mattress was stuffed with terror bird feathers and was therefore particularly comfortable. Too comfortable for the captain's taste.

With slow movements, she began to undo the straps of her armour. Despite regular and meticulous maintenance, it was showing signs of wear. The leather was cracked and several metal parts were bent or even cracked. This reminded her of an old legion proverb: the quality of a soldier is reflected in the quality of his armor. Flavia smiled at the thought, for her armour was just like herself, old and worn. She had been wearing it for so long that it had become like a second skin and the former legionary felt almost naked without it.

Flavia carefully folded her armour on the sheets before lying down on the mattress. She was about to close her eyes when a detail caught her attention. She turned her head in the direction of Alberic, who was once again lost in reading his book.

- "Al'?"

- "Yes, Captain?" the boy replied.

- "This book... I thought you couldn't read?"

- "Oh, uh... I'm learning."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

- "Learning?"

- "Yes, with the help of Shazi... err I mean Princess Shazira."

- "I see..." She nodded before staring at the ceiling again. "Well, that's good then. Good night, Al'."

- "Uh... good night, Captain."

Alberic was surprised by his superior's attitude. He had never seen her so talkative since he had been under her command.

*  *  *  *  *

The dreamer's mind was calm now. The ocean of memories surrounding the high priest was a sea of oil, its faint waves reflecting only one image. An image that had always aroused a powerful hatred in the mind of its victim. But there was no anger this time, only great sadness and despair. This was exactly the feeling Jaro was looking for, for a desperate victim was an easy victim to manipulate.

He had been working on the dreamer's mind for months as a sculptor would work on clay and his efforts were finally beginning to bear fruit. Now his victim's mind was as familiar to him as his own. He knew everything about his past, his secrets, his desires, his fears and his innermost feelings. Jaro was particularly proud of what he had achieved, but now it was time to find out how far he could control his puppet.

He breathed a new image into the mind of his victim. An image that would make the dreamer understand what the high priest wanted from him. Slowly the waves around him blurred to reflect a new vision. It was the face of a young khajiit with white and black fur and a look of sparkling life and energy. Her eyes were as blue as a cloudless sky, but the left was different. Half the iris was blue while the other half was yellow like polished amber. It was the image of Princess Shazira.

One after the other, the waves reflected the portrait of the princess like mirrors and Jaro smiled inwardly. His puppet had got the message.

*  *  *  *  *

Shazira knew she was dreaming because it was always the same dream.

It was the same crypt, dark and cold. The same dusty corridors with the same engraved walls and the torches that always struggled to push back the darkness of the place plunged in the same sepulchral silence. Everything was exactly the same as it had been the other times she had walked through these sinister corridors.

The princess hadn't had that nightmare since she arrived at the Golden Cane farm but she hadn't forgotten it. She was as cold as ever and felt crushed by the gloomy atmosphere. Soon her footsteps led her past the empty room. Inside, she found the same painful image as on previous occasions. She could see her father, wounded and bloody. Even though Shazira knew that none of this was real and no matter how many times she saw it, her heart ached at the sight.

The image disappeared, replaced by a void similar to that which separated the stars in the night.

The princess sighed as she turned around. She knew what was going to happen. One by one, the torches in the hallway went out and the cold became more intense, making the young khajiit shiver. She was soon plunged into darkness and, as always, she could feel a sinister breath graze her like invisible snakes. But Shazira was not afraid because she knew that this also meant the end of the dream. She would wake up any second now.

But she did not wake up...

The darkness around her thickened further and plunged her into complete darkness. Even her khajiit eyes could not make out the walls or the floor of the hallway. A feeling of fear quickly overcame her as she looked around. There was nothing left. Nothing but absolute emptiness, cold and silent. The princess opened her mouth to try to speak but no sound passed her lips. Why didn't she wake up? She should have woken up.

Suddenly a voice came from behind her to break the silence. It was a woman's voice, strange, inhuman and terribly sensual.

- "Behind you, kitten..."

Shazira's eyes widened at the words. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she didn't want to turn around... but she did. The young khajiit was hypnotized by this supernatural voice and she had no control over her body. Slowly she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

Suspended in the void and darkness, two gigantic eyes with amethyst pupils stared at her malevolently. The princess could read lust in them as well as great cruelty. Now paralysed with fear, Shazira could not look away from the sight. She wanted to scream and run away, but her body still refused to obey her.

- "Soon, my little pearl... soon," the voice from beyond the grave echoed before turning into a sinister laugh.

Shazira woke up screaming.

The young khajiit was sweating. Her fur was bristling and her eyes were wide with terror. She gasped as she looked around, trying to find out if the nightmare was over.

The princess was relieved to find that she was still in her room at the Golden Cane farm. It was still dark outside, so the room was pitch black. The sheets on her bed were in a sorry state, torn and sweaty. No doubt she had struggled in her sleep and Shazira noticed that her claws were still out. What a horrible nightmare.

She curled up on the bed to take her knees between her arms and try to regain her composure. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she recalled the horrible vision. She shivered, haunted by that malevolent look she couldn't get out of her mind. The image of her dying father haunted her too, and now more than ever she wished he were there. He would know how to reassure and soothe her in this difficult time. But he wasn't there and Shazira felt more and more worried, as if these recurring nightmares were trying to warn her that something bad was going to happen.

She felt the need to tell someone but she was afraid that her aunt or Captain Tasarr would laugh at her and not take her seriously. Perhaps she could confide in Alberic. The young Khajiit glanced out the window and saw that the night sky was beginning to brighten a bit. There were still a few hours left before dawn. She would go and talk to the young mercenary as soon as the sun came up and hope that he didn't think she was ridiculous for being scared by a bad dream, as if she was still a young kitten. She couldn't believe she had screamed like that.

In fact, it was strange...

The princess remembered screaming loudly. Yet no one seemed to have heard her, not even the guards who were watching her had been alarmed by her scream. Perhaps they had fallen asleep? If so, Captain Tasarr would certainly punish them with the utmost severity. It was then that Shazira noticed that the door to her room was ajar. Strange, she never went to bed without making sure it was closed.

The young khajiit got up from the bed. The floor was cold under her paws and she shivered as she felt a draught caress her bare shoulders. Slowly, she approached the door to look into the hallway. There was no one there. The candles and lamps were out and there was not a guard or servant in sight. Shazira's foot bumped against a heavy object and she looked down at the floor.

She didn't have time to see what it was.

A strong hand suddenly grabbed her from behind and pressed a handkerchief against her muzzle. The young khajiit struggled at once but another arm, just as strong as the first, went around her chest to immobilise her. She tried to scratch her attacker but he was much bigger and stronger than her. She could not scream either because of the handkerchief pressed forcefully against her mouth. It had a sweet, soothing, herbal smell. Her movements became slower as she inhaled the strange scent and she found it harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Her strength failed her and she was soon unable to resist any longer.

Shazira soon fell into a dreamless sleep.

*  *  *  *  *

The high priest Jaro woke up suddenly with a deep breath.

His eyes glazed over again and he felt a powerful dizziness seize him. Still bent over the silver bowl, his legs and hands shook uncontrollably. The end of the ritual was as trying as ever and it took him a few moments to regain his senses now that the link with his puppet was broken.

Jaro took a few steps backwards and almost stumbled. He mumbled as he fought against the fatigue and dizziness but he knew it was only temporary. He just needed some time to regain his senses and control of his body.

- "Brother... Brother Coronus!" he called. "Brother Coronus, where are you?"

He had ordered the adept to stay close by to help him awaken, and the high priest felt a terrible thirst that he was eager to quench.

- "Brother Coronus! Are you there?" he insisted in the face of his assistant's silence.

There was no reply and Jaro gathered his wits to look around. Everything was a blur, but he could make out the steep walls of the cave, the embers crackling in the braziers and the altar on which the offerings to their dark master were laid out. It was then that he noticed a figure lying on the ground. Squinting, he finally recognised Brother Coronus. The adept was prostrate face down before the high priest.

- "Brother Coronus? What are you doing?", Jaro growled with a frown. "Get up now, you fool."

- "Well, kitten?" came a smooth voice from behind the high priest's back. "Are we grumpy when we wake up?"

The High Priest froze at the words before turning slowly to look at the large obsidian mirror.

It was inert. There were no waves on its surface and it did not give off any magic. Was the high priest so tired and dazed that he thought he heard his master's voice?

Then he noticed the dark mass moving in the darkness behind the mirror. The shadow suddenly came to life and slowly approached, its long body winding like a snake to expose itself to the light of the braziers. Jaro swallowed as he looked at the daedra. The upper half of her body was that of a sublime woman with pale ivory skin and slender curves. Long jet-black hair framed a face with features as beautiful as they were cruel, and a large golden pectoral encrusted with pearls rested on her chest. The lower part of her body was that of a long snake with dark scales that undulated sensually.

The demon rose to its full height and looked down on his worshippers, an amused and malevolent smile on its lips. The high priest was stunned by the supernatural beauty of his lord, transfixed by his aura of dark majesty. He soon came to his senses, however, and fell to the ground beside Brother Coronus to prostrate himself with the greatest humility.

- "L... Lord Ophia! It is a great honour to welcome you among us," he stammered hastily.

- "I see you haven't lost your manners, kitten," the daedra whispered in a charming voice. "Oh... are those treats for me?" She pointed to the tray of victuals by the basin. "How lovely."

The creature approached the food intended for the high priest for his wake to and grabbed an apple. It looked at the fruit curiously before biting into it, revealing razor-sharp white teeth. After a few moments, the daedra spat out the food with a look of disgust.

- "Mortal food... disgusting," she spat, throwing the fruit away. "And I am so hungry after such a long journey."

The demon snaked over to the mirror and tenderly stroked its surface. Still prostrate face down, Jaro couldn't help but shiver. Had it been three days already? The practice of the dream manipulation ritual had made him lose all sense of time. But worse, he did not have what his master wanted.

As if she had read her mind, the daedra spoke again, her long claws still brushing the imposing mirror.

- "You're very quiet... is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

- "I... no, mistress," the khajiit swallowed. "We live only... only to serve you and satisfy your... your desires."

- "Mmmmmh... really?" the demon asked. "In that case, where is my bride?"

There was a long silence, disturbed only by the crackling of the embers and the jerky breathing of the high priest.

- "We... we don't have her yet," Jaro admitted. "But it is on its way. Please believe me... a few more hours and she will be all yours, Lord Ophia."

- "A few hours? Do you know how long I have waited to return to this world and exact my revenge?" she asked coldly.

Jaro didn't dare answer, knowing that a wrong answer from him could cost him much worse than his life. After a few moments, the daedra pressed her claws into the mirror’s surface, causing a horrible screeching sound that made the two prostrate followers grit their teeth. When she spoke again, her voice was cold and bitter.

- "Twenty years... I've been waiting for this moment for over twenty years. Twenty years I've been brooding over my revenge and waiting to complete my magnificent collection. And you ask me to... wait a few more hours?"

Fear still paralyzed Jaro. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. His lips were quivering, but he was unable to say a word. Whatever he could say or do, he knew that his fate was no longer his own. With his face still on the ground, he did not even dare to look his lord in the eye. The khajiit nevertheless felt something move near him.

Risking a quick glance, he could see the daedra's long black hair winding across the ground like snakes. They moved past the figure of the high priest and suddenly seized Brother Coronus by the throat and limbs.

The adept let out a strangled grunt as the hairs tightened their grip to lift their prey into the air. Jaro immediately looked away, not wanting to see the fate of the alchemist. But if he could no longer see, he could still hear the muffled moans and the sound of flesh being torn apart. Unable to breathe, Brother Coronus' face was blue as his body was slowly torn apart.

- "Twenty years... twenty long... very long years," the demon concluded.

The next moment, a horrible cracking sound echoed through the cave and blood spurted from Brother Coronus' dismembered body. Jaro flinched as he felt the hot liquid splash against his face, but he remained motionless, still prostrate before his lord. After a brief silence, the daedra spoke again in a weary voice.

- "Twenty years I have waited... I can wait a few more hours. After all, it's also my fault for arriving early."

The demon finally turned away from the mirror and snaked her way to the altar where the offerings were laid out. Her long ophidian body folded in on itself to sit on the large rock and she sighed heavily before dismissing the high priest with a wave of her hand.

- "Leave me now."

The high priest nodded silently before noticing that his master's long black hair was now dragging the bloodied body of Brother Coronus across the cave floor. The demon's lips stretched into a cruel, hungry smile.

- "After such a long journey, I need to restore myself a little..."

*  *  *  *  *

Flavia woke up and her first instinct was to look out the window. The daylight confirmed that it had been dawn for some time. She had slept a long time, apparently.

Slowly, the captain sat up in bed and stifled a long yawn. She felt rested and relaxed after the long night's sleep. Alberic was still asleep, his book lying open on his chest. Master Imril was also present, sleeping peacefully in his bed. The altmer had had a hard day tending to the many injured. He must have finished very late because Flavia did not remember seeing him when she went to bed. Only Gunnar was absent. The Nord had probably gone out to patrol the estate, leaving the sheets of his bed in the greatest disorder as usual.

Flavia sat up to stretch her still sleeping limbs. She hadn't felt this relaxed in days and was beginning to think she'd been right to take Gunnar's advice. At least, until she heard the screams...

The captain listened closely and realised that there was a great deal of commotion in the estate. She could hear distant shouts and see figures running in all directions through the windows. Such panic did not bode well.

Flavia got up in a flash, grabbed her armour which was still lying on the bed and began to put it on with quick, precise movements. While tightening the straps of her armour, she approached Alberic, who was still sleeping, and kicked his bed hard.

- "Get up, Al’!" she shouted.

The young Breton woke up with a start and looked at his superior with round eyes. Worry quickly overcame him as he became aware of the abnormal commotion outside.

- "What... what's going on?" he stammered as he sat up.

- "I don't know, Al’. Take your sword and get ready," she ordered him curtly.

Flavia was well aware that he was in no position to fight with his injured shoulder, but he could still be ready. She was relieved to see him reaching for his sword as, across the room, Master Imril awoke, his sleep interrupted by the sudden commotion.

The mercenary captain had just finished putting on her armor when a massive figure walked through the door of the dormitory. She was about to draw her sword when she recognized Gunnar, a worried look on his face.

- "What is it, Gunnar? Are we under attack?" she asked immediately.

- "No, Captain," the Nord replied.

- "Then what's going on? What's all the fuss about?"

- "It's the cat princess..." He hesitated to continue after glancing at Alberic. "She's disappeared again."

- "What do you mean she's gone? You mean she ran away again?"

Flavia frowned as she picked up her bow and quiver. This wasn't the first time the young khajiit had run away like this and her runaway nature was seriously getting on the captain's nerves.

Gunnar grimaced in annoyance as he looked his superior straight in the eye.

- "I don't think so, Captain...not this time..."