Old Habits Die Hard, Can an old dog learn new tricks? Options

[haute ecole rider]

This is the story I have been posting on the Unnamed Forum. I'm in the process of moving it over here for those who have not yet seen it. Enjoy!

Chapter 1.1a Escape

Waking up vomiting nothing but a small amount of bile, I gagged on the burning in the back of my throat. Coughing the last of it from my mouth, I curled on my right side on the foul cot, knees drawn to my chest. The rough wood of the cot’s frame pressed into my cheek. The smith’s hammer pounding on the inside of my skull sent stars shooting across the backs of my eyes. Grinding the heels of my hands into my closed lids in an attempt to drive the lights away only made the damn hammer pound even harder. Groaning, I turned until I lay on my back, opening my eyes.

Ignoring the taste of moldy stones on my tongue, I gulped down deep breaths of the damp air. The stars subsided as I stared at the stone blocks rising into the gloom above my head. The hammering slowed to once every shaky breath. Raising my thin wrists, I looked at the iron shackles encircling their ache. The prominent veins in the backs of my hands disappeared as the blood drained from them. Turning them so their palms faced me, I studied the ghosts of rough calluses, dark skin pale in the dim light of the window above my head.

Shouting. Clashing of steel on steel. A dark room spinning around me. Pitchers breaking, fluid flying everywhere. The helmed face of the Legion rider before me, his gauntleted hand holding my shoulder in an implacable grip, shouting something at me. My empty hands between us, palms facing the rider, my voice drowned by the chaos around us. Then the cold night air, my bare feet cringing from the rough cobblestones. Falling through the paving into darkness.

“Ach, what happened?” I muttered softly to myself. In spite of my whisper, the smith’s hammer pounded hard for a couple of heartbeats before slowing down again. Struggling to a seated position, I ignored the familiar stabbing pain in my left side, the hard throbbing in my right knee. Scooting my rump along the cot, I reached the pitcher sitting on the rickety table at the foot of the cot. Looking into the mug next to it, I grimaced at the dirty fluid inside. Picking up the pitcher, I raised it to my lips. Trying to avoid tasting it, I gulped the stale water hurriedly. Taking another mouthful and setting the pitcher down, I rinsed my furry teeth with it. Rising to my feet and leaning my right hand on the wall, I limped to the privy at the rear of the cell, spitting the foul water out.

“Awake now, are you, pretty Redguard?” the sarcastic, biting voice sounded behind me. Shooting a glare over my shoulder, I took in the barred door, the Dunmer in his cell across the way. “How do you like your cell?” he continued, his voice still mocking. Pretty, am I? Disheveled, filthy, thin and weak - no, pretty would be the last word I’d use to describe myself.

Turning around, I took a limping step through the trickle of faint moonlight falling from a window too small to show stars. Another limp took me past the table, its pathetic candle shedding little additional light. One more step brought me to the cell door.

“Roomy enough for you?” the mocking continued as I studied the Dunmer. He looked as unhealthy as I felt. Turning away from him, I limped around the small room, hunched against the sharp pain in my left side. Nausea roiled in my stomach, and my muscles quivered uncontrollably, their former strength forgotten. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you,” the other’s voice followed me on my limited perambulation. “No more sunshine, no more open seas. Just a box and a dirty sunbeam for the rest of your sorry life. Bet you’re glad it won’t last long, eh?”

“What?” I returned to the barred door, squinting at the Dunmer across the way. “I won’t be here long?” my voice cracked, weak in my still-burning throat. My dry lips split as I spoke.

“Oh, didn’t you know?” The Dunmer’s voice turned bitter along with his faded red eyes. “They put you here to forget about you. They don’t care if you die, Redguard.” His sharp-edged voice grated on my already raw nerves. The sound of a bolt being drawn back, a heavy door creaking open somewhere down the passage reached us. “Hear that Redguard?” the Dunmer’s tone became strident. “They’re coming for you!” He drew back into the shadows of his cell as I heard voices.

“Tell me what happened to my sons,” an old man’s voice reached me, heavy with grief.

“Sire, all we know is that they were attacked,” a woman’s voice, clipped with authority and respect, responded as booted steps drew nearer the cells. “We must hurry, Sire, we need to get you to safety.” I heard the slightest undertone of anxiety in her voice.

A tall figure, clad in steel armor with blue enamel and brass trim marking him as one of the Blades, lifted his torch at me. He stopped outside my cell, his Redguard features scowling at me in the guttering light. The woman, a little shorter than I and clad in the same armor, paused at the sight of me. Her blue eyes sparked angrily beneath the helm. “This cell was supposed to be empty!” she exclaimed softly under her breath.

“I don’t know, Captain,” the tall Redguard shrugged, keeping his cold black eyes on me. “Some mix-up with the City Watch.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the captain responded. Beyond her, another armored figure and an old Imperial man in royal purple robes appeared. The third Blade matched my height, and like me, turned out to be Redguard as well.

“Prisoner!” the captain’s voice crackled between the stone walls. My back straightened involuntarily, painfully, at the unmistakable command in the woman’s voice. “Stand back beneath the window!”

Although I had been out of the Legion for four years, old habits die hard. Complying with her order, I limped to the back of the cell, behind the moonbeam. The captain unlocked my cell door while I squinted through the grey light. Opening the door, she stepped back to let the other two Blades enter. The tall one advanced to stand between me and the others. Sensing his dislike of me, thick as molasses in a Skyrim winter, I accepted it, as I accepted the captain’s authority, since I could do nothing else.

“Watch the prisoner, Glenroy,” the captain ordered, moving to the side wall opposite my cot.

The slim sword whickered as Glenroy drew it. “Aye, Captain,” he growled, turning the blade so it shimmered in the moonlight between us. “You stay where you are,” he snarled at me. “Don’t even breathe.” Breathing slowly and shallowly, I stayed put. Looking past him, I regarded the other Redguard. Standing at ease near the door, his impassive expression scared me in its implacability. Years of combat in the Legion had taught me that the most deadly enemies are the ones you can’t read.

The captain started muttering under her breath, and I felt the unmistakable tingle of magicka shimmer over the plain rock face. Catching my breath, I realized the captain was a Breton, with high innate magicka. Probably trained as a battlemage.

The old man, his dark fur-lined robe a shadow in the shadows of the cell, stepped past the impassive soldier and peered at me, his sad eyes puzzled. “Come closer,” his voice smoothing from a grieved coarseness to a commanding tone.

Glancing at Glenroy, I hesitated, but he fell back to stand beside the old man, keeping his blade between me and the other. Acutely aware of the shimmering sword, I stepped forward into the light.

The old man’s eyes widened. “Ah, yes, I’ve seen you before.” His dark gaze held mine, once again becoming sad and resigned. “That means today is the day, and the hour is near.” Suddenly aware that the smith’s hammer had stopped pounding in my head, I stared at the old man.

Licking my dry lips, I remembered how the captain had addressed him. “Pardon me, Sire?” He can’t be - no, not the Emperor, not here, not in my cell! My eye fell on the large red amulet on his brocaded chest. The Amulet of Kings? The Emperor! Stiffly against the pain in my left side, I bowed. “How may I serve you, Sire?” Old habits die hard, very hard, indeed. Looking up, I saw a faint smile touch Uriel Septim’s eyes.

“I have served Tamriel all my life,” he answered. “You too, shall serve Tamriel in your own way. But you have your own path to follow.” His eyes grew even darker. “Be warned, though. There will be blood and death before the end.”

“Blood and death are not new to me, Sire,” I spoke softly, surprised by the weariness I heard in my cracking voice.

The wall of my cell crumbled beneath the captain’s hands, falling away in a cloud of dry, choking dust. A passageway appeared beyond. “Sire,” her voice cut between us. “We must go now, there is little time.” She disappeared into the darkness beyond the jagged stone edges.

Glenroy turned the top of the slender blade toward me as the Emperor started toward the opening. “What of the prisoner, Sire?”

“Leave her be,” the command voice was quietly unmistakable as Uriel Septim stepped through the opening, following the captain. “Her path may yet lie with ours.” Glenroy gave me one last glare, sheathing his sword and following the Emperor. The third Blade turned his back on me and brought up the rear.

Listening to the sound of their booted feet fading away, I glanced around the cell again. Something coiled in my belly, just below the breastbone. On my discharge from the Legion, I had once hoped to find peace and health after decades of blood and death. Peace and health had avoided me, and now a mere hint of blood and death had found me.

[haute ecole rider]

Chapter 1.1b Escape

Looking down at myself, I saw the pathetic sacking I wore. The thin pants, the flimsy shirt, the sandals with the rotten strings. No, I can’t do this. I’m too old, broken down, sick. My knee hurts, my hip hurts. Unconsciously my hand dropped to my left flank, over the debilitating wound that had led to my discharge from the Legion. It had festered in the years since my discharge, pulling me down to my left when I was tired, or when the weather turned cold and damp, much like the air in my cell.

Again, something shifted in my belly, suddenly making me claustrophobic in the narrow confines of the cell. The hammer tapped softly in my skull. The headaches had begun when I sickened from the wounds in my left side and right knee, only worsening the longer I lived out of the Legion. Silencing that hammer had become the sole focus of my existence since then, but led to my downfall.

Involuntarily, I moved to the passage, coughing against the rock dust still swirling in the air. Peering into its shadows, I caught a glimmer of an open space beyond, below the level of the cell floor.

Limping between the falling stones, wincing when my right foot slipped on unstable footing, I made my way down the rough-hewn corridor. Soon I reached an ancient stairhall, dust thick on every horizontal surface, undisturbed except for the boot prints on the floor. Following those tracks, I soon spotted the flicker of torch light ahead. Moving quicker to catch up, I soon reached the Blade bringing up the rear.

He turned his head to his left shoulder, still walking forward. “Careful, prisoner,” he warned me. “Stay out of our way.” His matter-of-fact tone was as impassive as his face. It reminded me of my pilus prior many, many years ago when I was a raw recruit, a tiro, in the Ninth.

Ahead in the dusty, ancient passageway, I could see the captain, torch high in her right hand. It guttered when she started at an attacking shadow and dropped the torch to draw her sword. The red and black figure towered over her and swung something at her head. She went down before she could bring her shield to bear. Glenroy and the other Blade leaped forward, their swords clanging as they attacked the shadow.

As the assailant disappeared in a red and yellow haze, I moved to stand beside the Emperor. The old man had drawn a silver shortsword, ready to defend himself. Clenching my empty hands - oh, for a weapon! - I spotted movement on the other side of the room.

“To your right!” I shouted. The pain in my knee and side forgotten, I moved between the Emperor and this new threat. As one, Glenroy and the impassive Blade dashed to the other side, moving into the darkness that pooled there.

Only the flashing of blades, the sparks flying in faint sprays as metal clashed on metal, could be discerned. The fight was over nearly as quickly as it began, the two Blades the only figures left standing. I could see their helms moving around as they scanned the lower part of the chamber, the soft snicks of their swords returning to their sheaths.

“Captain Renault?” the Emperor spoke behind me as Glenroy moved to kneel beside the fallen Breton.

“She’s dead, Sire,” he spoke curtly, anger simmering in his voice. “Let’s go, we have no time. There may be more.” Rising to his feet, he moved to the brass gate at the far side of the dimly lit chamber. Uriel Septim walked past me, his shortsword already sheathed, and weaved his way past red-robed bodies. The other Blade shot me a warning glance that froze my feet to the floor as he fell in behind the Emperor.

Moving quickly to the red-robed bodies, I searched through the thick folds of fabric. Weapons. I need a weapon. Something! The gate snicked shut behind the Blades. Dimly aware of a collapsed section of wall to my right, I hobbled toward the gate and tried to open it. Damn. Locked! Now what? My mind started chattering as I looked back at the bodies. Find weapons. That combat sense that warned me of danger was tingling crazily now.

A scuffling sound from the collapsed section of the wall warned me. Raising my left arm reflexively, though I held no shield, I whirled in time to see a large rat leaping toward me. Its teeth clattered on the iron shackle still on my wrist. Shoving it away, I felt another one slam into my right thigh just above my knee. Sharp pain told me the damned creature had bit me.

Swinging my right fist down hard on top of the second rat, I heard it exhale in surprise as it let go. Sliding back, it shook its head, momentarily stunned. Turning in time to catch the first rat scrambling toward me again, I seized it around its chest and slammed it against the wall, feeling bones crunch within my grip. Its collapse told me I had killed the creature. Limping to the stunned rat, I stomped hard on its neck with my left foot, twisting my heel until I felt its spine snap.

A quick look around revealed no more live enemies, two-legged or four. All the energy of the fight suddenly dropped out of my limbs. I fell rather than sat onto my haunches next to one of the dead assassins, fighting for breath. Shaking, I looked at my thigh, where the sacking cloth had torn from the second rat’s attack. Blood seeped from the gash made by the creature’s sharp teeth. Closing my eyes, I wished for a healing potion.

Crying, I ran to my mother, holding my right elbow in my left hand. Blood seeped through my fingers. She turned in time to catch me, kneeling to bring her black eyes level with mine. “What happened?” she asked softly.

“Cieran pushed me!” I exclaimed, holding my scraped elbow up, blood running down my raised arm. “See what he did to me!”

My older brother ran up. “I didn’t mean to push so hard, Mother,” he panted, his tone defensive and scared. Our mother took my arm in her strong hands, wiping away the blood to see the wound better.

“It’s only a scrape, Julian,” her warm voice soothed me. “Here, let me teach you how to heal it.” She wiped the blood from her left hand, then cupped my face in her long fingers. “Close your eyes, honey. Feel the pain. Now wish it away.”

“How?” I asked, nevertheless obeying her soft command.

“Take it in your hand, hold it tight until you can’t hold it any more, then let it go,” she said.

As hard as my six-year-old fingers could grip, I clenched my left hand until the joints in my fingers hurt. Pressure built up in my palm, while my mother’s voice encouraged me, and my brother gave a startled gasp. I gasped too, when I realized the pain in my right elbow was gone! Opening my eyes and my left fist at the same time, I caught a pure white glimmer rising from my left palm to swirl gently around me before disappearing.

“See?” my mother smiled, sitting back on her heels. Looking down at my elbow, I saw new skin covering the area where an ugly scrape had bloomed just seconds ago. “That’s how you can heal yourself. Next time an accident like this happens, just take the pain in your hand and hold onto it. The tighter you hold the pain, the more of it you can cast away,” she raised her left hand above her head dramatically. Looking at Cieran, I saw his stunned gaze still on my right elbow.

Somehow my left hand rose in the air, somehow I managed to hold on to the pain, until my fingers ached with it. When white light glowed between my clenched fingers, the pain in my thigh disappeared. Opening my hand, I let the healing spell free. It left me weaker than before, but the gash had closed, leaving a fresh pink scar. Leaning back, I gulped deep breaths until my shaking stopped.

The debilitating wound in my left side and my bum knee felt better. Trying again with the childhood spell, I felt the pain fade further, warmth replacing it. This time, I felt even weaker than before, and did not try again.

Looking at the body next to me, I fingered the red woolen robe thoughtfully. The gash in the front of the garment was small, testament to the deadly skill of the impassive Blade. This one is bigger than me. He won’t miss this robe.

Stripping the body, I shrugged into the woolen robe, folding the front of it to cover the gash and the bloodstains that were nearly invisible in the red color. Wrapping it around me, I rolled the sleeves and pulled the robe up through the belt so its hem wouldn’t drag on the floor.

Feeling something in one of the pockets, I reached in to find a metal disk. Pulling it out, I considered the single drake thoughtfully. He won’t be needing drakes, or septims, anymore. Replacing the coin in the pocket, I fruitlessly searched the other assassin, craving a weapon of some kind.

Puzzled, I searched the bare floor. Then it hit me. Bound weapons, bound armor. Conjuration. I shook my head. Give me something more permanent. Struggling to my feet, I moved to the other side of the room. Kneeling stiffly beside the remaining assassin, I found little more of value, only a belt pouch with another drake in it. Taking the belt pouch and adding it to my waist, I studied the dead Blades captain nearby.

Renault, the Emperor called her. She died in the line of duty. Eyeing her armor almost enviously, I briefly considered taking it. No, it won’t fit me. Besides, that would be disrespectful of a fallen soldier. Finding a steel shortsword at her back, I took it, unsheathing it and hefting its weight in my right hand. Good quality, well balanced. Little used. She kept this as her backup weapon.

Re-sheathing the sword, I secured it my belt. Glancing around on last time, my eye fell on Renault’s longsword laying just a short distance from her out-flung right hand. Its blade rang softly when I picked it up.

The long slender blade glimmered in the dim light, its balance exquisite, almost musical, in my hand. The finely wrought blue enamel and brass that formed the guard fitted seamlessly into the steel blade. The long grip, wrapped in butter-soft yellow leather interlaced around the shaft, easily kissed the old calluses in my right hand. The pommel, a small brass ball set into the end of the handle, provided the perfect balance to the long one-sided blade. An Akaviri katana!

No, I can’t keep it, shaking myself out of my trance, I found the sheath for it and removed it from the captain’s belt. But if I can somehow return it to the Blades, they may know best how to honor her. With an apology the dead woman could not hear, I strapped the katana to my back. Rising to my feet, I noticed that my wounds hurt less than before, thanks to the healing spells.

Now what? Looking around, I considered the passageway that led back to the cell. No, not that way. But the gate is locked. I looked at the collapsed section of the wall. The rats came from there. There’s got to be more. Maybe it will lead me out of the prison. After that, who knows?

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 17 2010, 04:19 PM