Hadvar held a bloody hand to the ruin of his stomach, too weak to move. Talion sat there, helpless to save him. By instinct, he'd drawn more than just his magicka into that lightning; he'd drawn his own life force. So much so that if he'd channeled that spell any longer, he probably would have died.
Hadvar was going to die. He knew it. Hadvar knew it. There was nothing he could do to save him.
"It was those damn Stormcloaks," Hadvar managed to say through the pain. "There were three of them. They left me to die. 'No more than an Imperial deserves,' they said." He chuckled grimly.
"Did anyone else make it out?" Talion asked.
"I saw Ralof and Ulfric escape through the tunnels. I have no idea where Tulius or the other men of the garrison are."
"Tulius is alive," Talion said. "I got him out just before the dragon finished him off. Why weren't you fighting beside him?"
"The general sent me to escort Lady Elenwen to safety."
"Is she alive?" Talion asked.
"Last I saw, she was. She abandoned me the moment she saw the Stormcloaks coming. She took the damn key with her. What do you know her?"
Talion sat there, his hands limp on the cold stone.
"Yeah. I know her," he said simply.
"I've got nothing but time and not much of it, by the looks of things," Hadvar said with a weak laugh.
"It's not a story I like to tell," Talion said.
Hadvar looked at Talion. "Look, Tal"
Talion raised his head. That was a name he hadn't heard in a long time.
"I'm dying," Hadvar said. "My guts are ripped open. It hurts like I've got a scamp wriggling around in there. So if you could do something, anything to get my mind off it, I'd appreciate it."
Talion lowered his gaze and shrugged. Fine, he thought. Who's he gonna tell anyway?
"Kairm and I were taken as prisoners after the battle," he said quietly.
==
He hadn't seen Kairm in weeks. For days after his capture, he'd been locked in a dark cell in the Imperial prisons. They shoved ten in cells fit for two or three. They brought food every few days. Cold gruel mixed with sawdust, with barely drinkable brown water to wash it down.
The Thalmor would come to the cells at night, take a few prisoners with them. Few returned. Sometimes elf-men would come for the women when they were deep in their cups. They wouldn't bother with taking them somewhere private. They laughed at the screams of the women and their families.
Some of the prisoners stopped eating, wasting away. They were all going to die in this place. He was certain of it. It was just a matter of time.
In the distant tunnel, he saw torchlight approaching. He shied away from the overwhelming brightness.
"Please," one of the prisoners begged. "My wife, where is my wife?"
The Thalmor officer ignored him. He began pointing to prisoners. The guards dragged them out, ten prisoners in all. Three men, four women, and two boys of Talion's age.
The last chosen was Talion himself.
It's time, he thought.
His father had told him and his brother something before he'd left, carted away in that carriage to join the war:
"If death finds you out on that battlefield, my sons meet it with dignity. Don't hide. Don't cry. Don't seek death, but don't run away when the time comes."
The other prisoners thrashed in terror, screaming, pleading. Talion stood on his weak legs, trying with all his might to keep them steady. He would be damned if he would cower in front of these damn elves.
When the cell door opened, to the surprise of the Thalmor soldiers, he walked through of his own accord.
They led them out into the blinding light. It was midday, the sun high in the sky. A cool breeze licked his face. Not a bad day to die on.
It was only then that he saw the corpses piled high in a mass of charred and twisted limbs. Hundreds, no, thousands of men, women, and children. Gibbets were hanging from the high towers of the prison, filled with the bloated dead and agonized dying. Hundreds of them, hanging like ornaments on a Saturalia tree.
The smell was overwhelming.
One of the soldiers jabbed him in the back with the butt of his spear. "Move now!" he commanded.
The Imperial City was in ruins. Buildings lay in crumpled heaps of broken stone, refuse strewn through the streets and alleyways. They led the prisoners to the Arena District. Talion heard the cheers of the crowd from afar.
"W-where are they taking us?" one of the other prisoners asked, panic in his voice.
One of the elf soldiers laughed a vile, cruel laugh filled with glee. "You'll find out when we arrive," he said.
They led them into the arena by a side door. At least three score prisoners sat chained together in a filthy mass on the floor. An elderly Imperial began to announce to the prisoners.
"I am Selvus Gane. By decree of the Aldmeri Dominion and Lord Naarifin, there is to be a full month of games to commemorate the glorious victory of our Altmer overlords."
He cleared his throat nervously.
"You all have been selected to act as fodder for their amusement. You all should be proud and honored to meet such a noble end."
"Hurry up," one of the soldiers said impatiently.
"R-right. Yes," he stammered. "When called upon, you will walk through the doors into the arena. Any who refuse will hang from the tower until death."
He stared down at his feet as he finished, ashamed.
They were sent out in small groups at first, then progressively larger ones. Every time the doors opened, the cheers and jeers of the crowd were deafening, only to be silenced the moment the doors closed.
Eventually, the soldier pointed to Talion.
"Your turn, boy," he said, smiling. Talion rose.
==
As he stepped into the arena, he noticed that the cheers of the crowd had changed from roars of excitement to mocking jeers. Talion looked to his companions. They were all roughly his age, maybe a little younger for some, and older for others.
The announcer stood, his voice magically magnified.
"And now, Lord Naarifin would like to break up the thrilling displays we have seen thus far with a bit of levity," the announcer said, giving the audience time to cheer, nodding along with them before speaking again.
"We have here two dozen of the Empire's youth, its shining future!" he joked. "But, my friends, only one shall leave these sands today. In his infinite mercy, Lord Naarifin has deemed that the survivor of this bout shall move on to the next as reigning champion, recognized as the best the Empire shall ever again produce in this city!"
The crowd laughed uproariously.
"Now, without further delay, Lord Naarifin shall give the commencement at his leisure."
The announcer turned and bowed to the high stands. Lord Naarifin stood with his silver hair long and shining in the sunlight. His face betrayed no emotion. He gave one sharp movement of his hand, and the crowd roared.
Nobody moved. The boys all looked to each other, not understanding.
"Well, begin," the announcer said, as if they were simply being stupid. The crowd laughed.
Still, no one moved.
The announcer gave a signal, and a hundred bows raised, arrows nocked, pointing at the small, unarmed group.
Talion moved first.
"You must never hesitate," he heard his father say, the words echoing in his mind from mere months ago. "Never give your opponent time to prepare. Hit them when and where they least expect it. Kill them quick. Show no mercy."
Talion gritted his teeth and wrapped his hand around the back of the largest boy's neck and twisted. It popped, the bones bulging, and he fell limp like a puppet with its strings cut.
That opened the floodgates.
The other boys turned on each other, beating each other into the dust. Talion kept his distance, letting them wear each other out. The elf soldiers lowered their bows, relaxing to watch the show.
==
Elenwen sat in the top box beside Lord Naarifin's personal attendant. First Emissary Naradras sat beside Lord Naarifin, talking animatedly. She swirled her wine glass contemplatively. She was partial to the Colovian red. She had to admit one thing these Imperials understood was how to make a good wine.
She watched the bout with great interest.
That boy, she remembered him. She had shot him with a paralysis arrow during the assault. He killed that other boy like it was nothing, no hesitation, no mercy. And smart, too. He made sure to take out the largest, oldest boy first, then fall into a defensive posture, allowing the others to do the heavy fighting, saving his strength for the final push.
She smiled and put a thousand Sancars on him to win.
==
Talion tackled the last survivor from behind as soon as he finished with his opponent. There was no honor in it, but this was not an honorable battle. It was too easy.
He brought his fists down again and again on the boy, shattering his jaw and reducing his nose to pulp.
"No, please," the boy managed through the ruin of his teeth, raising his hands to surrender.
Talion hit him again. He heard his father's voice ringing in his ears.
"No mercy."
The boy fell unconscious. Talion stood, breathing hard. He placed his foot on his throat, pressing down with all his weight.
With a loud crunch, it was over.
He stood there for a moment. His hands were shaking. He raised his head away from the carnage, looking to the sky.
It really was a beautiful day.
They threw him back in his cell as soon as the fight was over. The food had already come and gone the water too.
"Where are the others?" one of the prisoners asked.
"Dead," Talion answered.
The man broke, wailing like a dying animal.
"Did my son die well?" another asked.
His death was nothing but a joke to them, is what Talion wanted to say. But instead,
"He did," was all he said.
==
The next morning, a new group was chosen. Talion, as the champion, was taken first. They led them through the courtyard and back into the arena. The old man gave his little speech grace and magnanimity and all that. Talion barely heard a word he said through the haze clouding his mind.
They chose a group of twenty this time. They even gave them weapons.
Talion had trained extensively with his father back home. Before his father lost his leg, he had been a famous warrior, known as one of the deadliest men in Skyrim. Orlin the Dread Blade.
Talion took the sword and shield. They were terrible weapons, the sword rusted and chipped, the shield splintered and half-rotten. But it was something. He gave the sword a few practice swings. It will do, he thought, gripping the hilt hard before stepping out into the sands of the arena, his heart stuck in his throat as soon as he saw their opponent.
"They want us to fight that thing?" one of the others asked.
No, Talion thought. They want to watch that thing rip us limb from limb. The fighting is just a bonus.
The beast stood twice the size of a man, its arms cords of thick muscle, its head that of a bull with long, pointed horns like swords. And where its feet should have been, it had cloven hooves. In its hands was a double-bladed battle axe so large no man could have wielded it.
The beast turned in their direction and snorted, kicking up dirt.
A war minotaur, Talion thought, fighting down his fear.
"My lords and ladies," the announcer began, "today Lord Narif—"
But he was cut off as, suddenly, with a great bestial roar, the minotaur charged toward the group of prisoners, raising its axe high.
Talion ran. A few others followed suit, but at least half their number stood frozen, their weapons at their sides, paralyzed with fear by the monstrosity coming their way.
The beast lowered its head as it approached. Its horn speared through the guts of one of the prisoners. Standing to its full height, the still-living victim screamed as blood and intestines spilled out over the beast's face.
The crowd roared their approval.
The minotaur swung its axe, taking the head off the man beside him before raising it again and bringing it down right in the middle of another man's skull, cleaving through his head down to his navel.
"We're all going to die," one of the prisoners screamed.
Talion looked at those with him, those who'd had the good sense to run. None of them had battle experience. He could see it in their eyes. But they had enough nerve, at least not to freeze at the sight of that creature.
"I was a soldier in the battle," Talion said to them. "I've been training since before I can remember. Follow me. Fight by my side, and we might just get out of this alive."
There were no arguments. These men were drowning, and Talion threw them a rope. They weren't about to argue about who held it.
"T-tell us what to do," one said.
Talion gave his orders: draw its attention, stay out of striking range, confuse it.
The beast was unimaginably strong, but in equal measure, stupid.
While the minotaur slaughtered the helpless prisoners frozen in fear, Talion planned their attack.
==
There was laughter among the Thalmor in the top box.
"Look, they're forming into lines," Lady Arannelya said, spitting her wine in a rather unladylike fashion. "Is that a boy leading them?"
Lord Naarifin guffawed. The other nobles joined in all save for Elenwen.
She stared, transfixed at the boy. A natural leader.
"Interesting" she muttered.
==
When the minotaur finished, the ground was strewn with corpses, severed limbs scattered far from their owners. The sand drank their blood greedily.
The minotaur reached up, pulling the still-living man from its horns. The beast gripped him on either end, slowly ripping him in half. It raised the legless torso to drink his blood like water from a cut vine.
They moved as one Talion, taking the front, shields raised in a wall.
The minotaur pawed the ground in excitement. It charged again, lowering its head.
"Hold," Talion said.
The minotaur closed the distance, aiming its horns straight at Talion. They waited until the last moment.
"Break!" Talion shouted.
The line broke. Talion stepped aside. Tendons and arteries, his father had always told him. Talion struck as the beast passed, leaving a long gash across the beast's heel. It tripped, falling hard into the sand.
They moved as one, all of the survivors attacking.
One man came in close for the kill, stabbing the minotaur in the side. But he was too close, too eager. The beast grabbed his leg and shattered it in its fist. The man screamed, but was silenced when the minotaur smashed his head with a single punch.
The beast was down, but not defeated. It was still dangerous, even on its back and overwhelmed.
But they continued attacking, darting into range for a quick cut, then retreating.
It managed to kick another man, his body contorted into an unnatural position as he flew ten yards away. It tried to fend them off with long, wild swipes from its powerful arms, sending men flying with broken spines and smashed skulls.
But eventually, the beast began to slow, sluggish from blood loss, before rolling over unconscious with a deep groan.
Talion stepped onto its heaving chest and pressed the tip of his sword to its throat. He put all his weight on the pommel and slid it into the thick muscle of its neck.
By the time it was over, of the twenty men that had been sent into the arena, only three survived.
The crowd was silent.
Then a roar of cheers filled the stadium.
==
"Has he been secured properly?"
"Yes, my lady," the soldier said. "It took four of us to hold him down."
"I don't doubt it. He is a strong-willed one."
Elenwen entered the chamber. The Nord boy was tied to a cross in the middle of the room, legs and arms splayed. Elenwen smiled. He recognized her the moment he saw her; she could see it in his eyes.
"Where is my brother?" he shouted.
"Good. No need for reintroductions," she said, a false smile painted on her face. "Your brother is alive."
The Nord boy's expression changed.
"Where is he? Please, let me see him."
"I do not have him," she said coldly. "He has been sold to a rather repugnant member of my race named Noradras Faelir. A sadist with a penchant for young boys."
The color drained from the Nord's face.
"Please. I'll do anything. Anything you want. Please get him out of there."
"First things first," Elenwen said. "What is your name?"
"Talion," he said.
"Talion," Elenwen repeated. "It's not a bad name. A name fit for a king."
She smiled.
"I must say, I find myself impressed with you, Talion. A lesser creature you may be, yes, but still impressive." She nodded, approaching him slowly. "In the arena the other day, when you snapped that boy's neck..." She clicked her tongue softly. "How very devious." She smiled. "Ruthlessness, cunning, these are attributes I have always prized in my servants."
"Servant?" Talion made his disgust apparent.
"Oh, don't make that face," she pouted. "It really won't be so bad. You may even learn to enjoy it. Besides, we find ourselves bound by fate."
Her eyes met his.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"I have languished in my position as Second Emissary for many years now. If I am to ever rise higher in station, I find that I must create an opportunity not merely wait for one to present itself."
"Get to the point," Talion said impatiently.
She smiled.
"You have fire in you, boy. I respect it. But speak to me in such a way again, and I will very much enjoy beating it out of you."
She continued.
"It just so happens that the First Emissary, my direct superior, the man standing between me and the social elite, is the very same man who holds your brother."
"What do you want of me?" Talion asked.
Her eyes brightened.
"The boy you killed in the arena, the one whose neck you snapped?"
"Yes?"
"I was so very far away when it happened. I would like to see it again."
She stepped back and clapped her hands. Five guards opened the door, hauling in a prisoner, a young woman around his age.
"Unchain him," she commanded.
The guards looked to each other.
"My lady?" one asked.
"Do as I say," she said, that smile back on her face.
They did. As his chains fell away, Talion collapsed to the hard stones, his arms aching from the strain. He looked up at Elenwen.
"Do you ever want to see your brother again, or shall he be Noradras's fuck slave until he gets bored of him?" she asked, her eyes filled with cold malice.
Talion looked to the girl, bound and gagged. She had been beaten badly. There were marks around her throat. He knew what this girl had suffered.
He stood behind her. She was sobbing through her gag. He brushed her hair softly, as if to say everything will be all right
Then, swift as he could, he grabbed both sides of her head and twisted.
The sound echoed in the dungeon. She fell forward, dead. Talion breathed out hard.
"Never show weakness," his father had always said.
"Leave us," Elenwen ordered the guards.
They hesitated.
"Now!" she shouted.
They quickly left the room, shutting the door behind them. She approached Talion, stepping softly over the corpse.
"You are my dog now," she said. "You will follow my orders. Kill whom I command."
Talion stood there, eyes forward.
"If you do this, I will save your brother when the time comes."
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" Talion asked.
"You don't," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "But it is your only hope of ever seeing him alive again. Trust me, or don't."
"Protect your brother, Talion," his father had said. "Bring him home."
==
Hadvar stared at Talion for a long moment.
"I'd heard stories," he said quietly. "Of the things they did. But I never knew."
"It's not something the Empire wants to advertise," Talion said grimly. "Most of their crimes were covered up after the city was retaken. They probably thought the populace wouldn't accept peace if they found out."
"And rightly so," Hadvar said. "It was hard enough as is. We needed peace."
"At what price?" Talion asked.
"At any price," Hadvar said, a hint of strength returning to his voice. He truly believed it.
After a moment, he softened.
"I'd heard the bitch was a sadist."
"Most of them are," Talion said simply. "But Elenwen is a special case. That woman she's a monster."
"How did you get out?" Hadvar asked.
"A friend," Talion said, a soft smile on his lips. "I lived in that city for nearly a year. I did everything she asked of me, no matter what it was."
His voice was hollow when he said this.
"I was her slave. Her dog she called me. I don't think she expected me to survive as long as I did. She sent me to do all the things she couldn't kill her rivals, plant evidence to destroy them. Anything she couldn't or at least wasn't willing to be caught doing. If I had been caught, I would have been killed, of course. But she would still be free to continue her schemes. Eventually, she made her play for power... and I received my reward," he added, laughing bitterly.
==
"Tonight is the night," Elenwen said.
Talion raised his gaze from the floor and met her eyes.
"I have secured your brother's release. As we speak, he is being taken into my custody."
Talion smiled, his heart soaring at the thought. He felt tears well up in his eyes.
"What are your commands?" he said, happy, for the first time, when those words left his lips.
She smiled.
"The First Emissary, Noradras Faelir, is soon to depart for Elsweyr to quell the rebels there. But he will never leave this city alive. He is currently being housed in the Imperial Palace as an honored guest befitting his station. You will sneak into the palace and kill him as the palace sleeps."
Talion's smile faded.
"How am I supposed to sneak into the Imperial Palace?" he asked.
She smiled.
"Years ago, a member of the Blades was taken alive. During his interrogation, he revealed that during the Mythic Dawn's successful assassination attempt on Uriel Septim, the Emperor attempted to escape through a secret tunnel located in the Imperial Prison. You will sneak through these tunnels and into the palace proper. I have seen to the guards your entrance should go unchallenged. The traitors will, of course, be dealt with. But for tonight, they will turn a blind eye."
One of her bodyguards set a small wooden box on the table.
"Open it," she said.
He did. Inside were three phials of a translucent liquid.
"Potions of invisibility," she said. "Expensive and powerful, only the best for you. Also this"
She produced a dagger of elven make. Talion took the blade in both hands. He felt it hum with a faint power.
"It has been enchanted with vampiric properties, strengthening and healing the wielder while draining the life force of the victim. Go now. Make your mistress happy, and you will be rewarded greatly upon your return."
==
The reek of death and decay hung heavy in the air. Rats leapt at him from the darkness, but his reflexes had been sharpened in this past year. He struck out with the dagger, piercing the little beast through the belly. It wriggled and squeaked on the end of his dagger. He shook it off, and it fell into the stinking sludge with a soft plop.
There was a dead end at the end of the tunnel. He felt around the wall for the recessed button Elenwen had told him of. It took a while, but eventually he found it and pressed it. With an audible click, the door began to slide inward, the rattling of gears and scraping of stone making a cacophony in the long stone tunnel.
There were skeletons in tattered red robes. He saw one corpse dressed in the Akaviri armor of the Blades. He'd never seen it in person, only in the books his father owned.
He continued down the long passage until he came to the second dead end. Again, he felt around the wall. This time, it only took moments to find. The Blades had trusted more in their members' fanatical loyalty to keep the secret more than anything else.
He pressed it, and the door slid open. He stepped through.
"Who is this Janico asks?" a soft voice said from the darkness, its accent the unmistakable Khajiit inflection.
Talion pulled his hood lower.
"Is there a way out of this cell?" he asked.
The Khajiit nodded slowly.
"Well, where is it?" he asked, annoyed.
"There are two," the Khajiit said, pointing to the cell door and then the one Talion had come through. "Unfortunately for Janico, that one is locked," he said of the cell door. "But even more fortunate is that a little Nord boy has opened the second, unbeknownst to Janico," the Khajiit said with a smile. "But I am thinking that the boy's quest lies beyond the first, no?"
Talion nodded.
"Does the Nord boy happen to have a lockpick?"
Talion took one out of his pocket.
"Ahhh, very good. Unfortunately elven-made. The Khajiit knows the proper way to make such tools."
Janico set to work. Within moments, he had the door open.
"Janico bids the Nord boy farewell, wishing him luck on his quest and hopes to have the opportunity to repay him in the future."
The Khajiit bowed deeply to Talion and left through the secret door Talion entered by his footsteps inaudible.
Talion crept through the cells, ignoring the anguished moans of the prisoners. Elenwen had told him: third floor, last apartment on the right.
He opened the door leading out of the dungeon.
"Hey, what are you—"
The Thalmor soldier's voice cut off as Talion threw his knife into his neck. He gripped the hilt sticking out from his neck, blood flowing through his fingers, and fell to the ground. Talion yanked his knife free from his throat.
So much for the guards being taken care of.
He took the clear phial from his pocket and drank it, feeling a sense of coolness flood through him and cover his body as he disappeared from view. He moved silently through the halls, not meeting any guards along the way.
He took the side stairs to the third floor, making his way to the apartment. He opened the door silently. As he stepped into the room, he heard loud snoring.
He moved in quietly, drawing the dagger from its sheath. The elf lay before him on a bed of fine linens with gold embroidery, the quality of the furnishings a contrast to the disgusting creature lying before him. He was naked, morbidly obese, with pustules sprouting from his tiny golden cock, half-eaten bits of food strewn throughout the bed.
He had two boys, one under each arm—each of them younger than Kairm.
Who says you can't take pleasure in your work from time to time, he thought.
Talion tapped the two boys, holding a finger to his lips. They looked frightened, but they did as he said, quietly removing themselves from the bed. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to make this elf suffer. So he stabbed his dagger into the elf's groin as hard as he could.
Lord Noradras woke shrieking a high-pitched, girlish shriek. Talion stepped back, letting him feel it for a moment, counting in his head. Once he reached ten, he slashed a wide gash across the elf's neck. He fell backwards onto the bed, gurgling through a mouthful of blood.
He tried to take the signet ring off his finger, but it was too fat to get off. Talion cut it off with one swift motion. Turning to the boys, he said:
"I wouldn't be here when they find him. Someone definitely heard that scream, so I would move fast."
He drank his second potion and vanished from the spot.
==
"Lord Noradras is dead," Talion said. He was kneeling, holding out the signet ring—the finger still attached to it.
Elenwen beamed. "I will cherish this gift forever," she said. "Now, I will not delay any further your reward."
She clapped her hands softly. The door opened. Two guards entered, one carrying a small boy, too small to be his brother. He was half the size his brother was, skinny, the features of his face sunken, his eyes hollow. His body was misshapen, deformed.
But the eyes.
Talion met the pale silver, the same as his own.
"Kairm?" Talion asked quietly.
The boy didn't move. He didn't raise his head.
Elenwen sucked her teeth loudly and said, without a hint of sympathy, "Unfortunately, the boy is damaged beyond repair. His mind is gone. He doesn't eat unless forced to. He won't speak or even make a sound."
Talion moved slowly to his brother. He touched his hand gently.
He flinched.
"Kairm... It's me. Don't you recognize me?"
Silence.
"What happened to him? What did you do?" Talion shouted angrily.
The guards looked to one another, hands going to the hilts of their swords. Elenwen raised a hand, and they backed off.
"Leave us," Elenwen said quietly.
The guard set Kairm down on the bed, and they departed reluctantly.
Elenwen approached, kneeling. She took Talion's face in her hands.
"Your brother, I am told, was not a very compliant slave. So much so that Lord Noradras had to take… extreme measures for his disrespect. His tongue was cut from his mouth for his refusal to pleasure his master. His manhood was removed for his attempted escape. His tendons cut, and the skin flayed from his arms and legs. He has spent the last six months in Lord Noradras's glass oubliette, in full view, serving as an example to the others. Lord Noradras did not tolerate defiance in his slaves."
Her eyes were cold, uncaring.
Talion collapsed to the ground, staring at the ruin of his brother. He remembered his smile, how he would chase Talion in the forest, trying to keep up with his big brother.
"Give me time with him," Talion said quietly.
Elenwen did not move.
"Please," Talion begged. He looked to her, tears streaming down his face.
"As you wish," she said before turning to depart.
When the door closed, Talion tucked his brother into his blankets, just like he used to do when he was scared at night. Kairm's hollow eyes followed him for a moment, dead and lifeless.
"It's okay, Kairm. I'm here now. I'm going to take care of you, little brother."
He stroked his hair, and it came away in a greasy clump in his hand. Talion looked at it and broke. All the strength going out of him, everything gone.
For a long time, he sat there, sobbing uncontrollably.
Then, suddenly, he felt a hand, weak and limp, touch his shoulder. He saw Kairm staring at him, his dead gaze pleading. He made a gurgling sound in his throat that almost sounded like please.
Talion stood, wiping his eyes. He clenched his jaw and nodded to his brother. He lay down in the bed behind him, holding him for a long time, hours, it felt like, until he felt the soft rise and fall of his breath, the telltale sign of sleep.
He drew his dagger slowly, so as not to wake him. Positioning the blade just under the ear, he took a deep breath and pressed down hard, cutting toward the neck.
A painless death.
He held him as he convulsed, tears streaming down his face.
"It's okay, Kairm. I love you. I love you. I love you," he repeated those words over and over again.
It could have been hours, for all he knew. But he kept repeating them, long after Kairm stopped breathing.
==
Hadvar was silent.
Talion didn't blame him. What words were there to say?
"His body was thrown into a pyre with all the rest. Slaves have no rituals. No burials. No honor," Talion scoffed bitterly. "At least, that's what Elenwen said."
"It wasn't long after that word came to the city that the Emperor was returning with an army at his back. Elenwen got her promotion to First Emissary after Noradras's death, inheriting his duties as well as his title. But she wouldn't let me go so easily."
"No... she sent me with her baggage and a few guards off to Elsweyr."
He threw his head back and sighed.
"Gods, I wish I had been there. To see Lord Naarifin hanging from the White-Gold Tower, the crows pecking his eyes. Seen the Emperor wielding Goldbrand as they slaughtered those damn elves. Now that would've been a sight to see, eh, Hadvar?"
There was silence.
"Hadvar?" Talion asked.
Hadvar lay there, eyes closed, his hand limp on the ground, his sword lying beside him.
"Sorry, old friend. To trouble you in the end."
Talion stood on shaky legs. He was weak.
But he was strong enough for this.