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 1.3b Assassination



Still stunned, I stared at Baurus. He looked me up and down, then shoved the torch in his hand to me. “Take this,” he said curtly. “Make yourself useful. My job is to make sure the Emperor gets out of here alive, and I intend to do it.” His tone clearly implied he doubted my ability to be of any considerable assistance, especially in combat. The old pilus I used to be agreed with his assessment.



We moved on through corridors and deserted chambers, stirring dust that had long lay undisturbed on every horizontal surface. Every now and then, a single assassin would waylay us, but none of them apparently had the kind of training necessary to withstand a single Blade.



Before long, we reached a huge chamber with a brass gate at the far end. Glenroy had us wait in the corridor while he went forward and surveyed the room for assassins. Finding the area empty, he waved us forward and moved to the gate. 



The rattling sound it made was ominous in the immensity of the silent chamber. Immediately the two Blades drew their katanas and started scanning the shadows around us.



“The gate’s barred from the other side,” Glenroy told us angrily. “I smell a trap!”



Looking around the room, I had to agree. Too many shadows, too many blind corners, too many places for ambushing enemies to hide. 



“What about that room back there?” Baurus asked, gesturing towards an archway opening into a small space, off to the side. 



“Let’s check it out,” Glenroy suited actions to words, moving towards the doorway. “It’s clear,” he said. The Emperor and I followed his signal to enter the room. 



Booted footfalls sounded outside the room once we entered. “They’re behind us!” Baurus shouted, whirling around and dashing back the way we had come, Glenroy hot on his heels.



Catching my breath at the suddenness of events, I blinked in the relatively bright light of the small side chamber. The Emperor caught my elbow as I reached for the hilt of my longsword.



“Listen!” his voice took on new urgency. “This is it, the end is here.” Shooting him a startled glance, I saw the determination in his gaze. “You must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants!” He removed the Amulet of Kings from around his neck and pressed it into my right hand, squeezing my fingers around it until I winced from the pain. “Close shut the jaws of Oblivion. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!” Uriel Septim released my hands, stepping back. 



Outside the room, the sounds of combat distracted me momentarily. Without thinking, I shoved the jewel beneath my cuirass, under my breast. Need to free my sword hand. My mind was already on the skirmish unfolding in the great chamber, ignoring the coiling in my gut.



“Julian,” the Emperor’s voice, quiet and commanding, drew my gaze back to him. “Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where my last son yet lives.”



He trusts me that far? I stared at him, momentarily speechless. My heart started when the stone niche behind the Emperor opened to reveal a towering assassin in Daedric armor, his horned mace raised high over his head. 



“No -!” I screamed, reaching for Uriel Septim with my shield hand, fumbling for the sword hilt with my right hand. Too slow, too far, my mind screamed at me, as I watched in horror while the mace began its shockingly slow, yet so fast, descent straight for the Emperor’s head.



The impact made a sickening crunch, and the Emperor’s face went slack, his eyes rolling up into his head. He crumpled to the ground at my feet. Still groping for the sword hilt, I crouched toward him, hoping against hope. The huge hole in the back of his head, blood and gore draining from it told me the Emperor was dead.



“You picked a bad day to take up the cause of the Septims!” the assassin screamed in a voice like thunder, lifting the terrible mace again. Warm fluid and matter splattered my face as I scrambled back, grasping the hilt and trying to gain enough room to draw it. 



My right knee chose that moment to buckle under me, throwing me down. Somehow my sword came unsheathed, and I reflexively raised it towards the assassin as he came at me. The tip of the sword caught in the cuirass, the force of the assailant’s charge wrenching the hilt out of my grip and twisting my right wrist. 



Fighting down the sudden wave of terror at being so abruptly disarmed, I raised my shield in time to deflect the mace, redirecting its momentum to fly past my left shoulder. As the assassin bent over me, momentarily off-balance, I swung my left boot as hard as I could, as high as I could, into the inside of his thigh. “Damn!” I yelled, rolling to my right. Grabbing for the sword, I cried out at the pain in my wrist as my hand took the blade’s weight. 



The assassin staggered, groaning from the pain I had just inflicted on him. Behind him, Baurus raced into the room, his bloodstained katana already moving to slice below the assassin’s cuirass. He did something with the blade, I wasn’t sure what, and the attacker tried to turn around. 



Clambering onto my knees, I swung the longsword at the back of his calves, unprotected by his greaves. Effectively hamstrung, the assassin was easy prey for Baurus’s flickering katana and finally went down. 



Baurus whipped the katana at me, but lowered it as soon as he saw my face. He cast his gaze around the room, stopping when he saw the Emperor’s crumpled body against the wall. All the fight went out of him then, as he stumbled to kneel beside Uriel Septim.



“Talos save us, no -” the raw emotion in his voice made me breathless. Panting, I lay back on my right side, squeezing my eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down my sweating face. The iron longsword clattered as it slipped out of my grip.



I failed. I failed the Emperor. I failed, again. I can’t fight any more. I’m too far gone. Akatosh, I’m sorry.

Booted footsteps interrupted my self-recrimination. Gauntleted hands grabbed my shoulders. “Julian!” Baurus was speaking. “Julian! Are you all right?”



Opening my eyes, I shook my head at him. He started passing his hands over my arms, searching for injuries. Reflexively, I pushed him off. “I failed the Emperor!” I snapped, struggling to sit up. Baurus grew very still, and I turned my gaze away from him. “I’m sorry, sir,” I muttered. 



“No, you’re right,” Baurus said bitterly. “We’ve failed. I’ve failed. Glenroy is dead. The Emperor is dead.” He sat back on his heels as I slumped forward, still trying to steady my breathing. “Julian, the Amulet is missing. Do you know where it is?”



Nodding, I touched my cuirass. “Here,” I answered. “The Emperor gave it to me. He told to me to take it to J- Jauffre.”



Baurus frowned at me. “Grandmaster Jauffre?” His black eyes squinted at me. “Why?”



“There is another son.” An illegitimate child, must be. Baurus’s thick brows disappeared under his helm.



“Another son?” he repeated. “Nothing I ever heard of.” He considered me for another moment. “But Jauffre would know. He and Uriel Septim go back a long ways.” He shook his head in wonderment. 



“Here, I’ll give it to you, sir,” I reached into my cuirass, but Baurus stopped me.



“No, I need to stay with the Emperor’s body until reinforcements arrive,” he answered. “You need to get that Amulet to Jauffre as quickly as you can travel.”



“By myself?” my voice was almost a squeak. “I don’t know where Jauffre is -”



“You were Legion, right?” Baurus locked eyes with me. “Not a deserter?”



“No!” I shot back reflexively. “I’ve never deserted my duty!”



Baurus nodded. “I thought so.” He reached into his cuirass, drew out a folded parchment and a graphite stylus. “Then you know how to read a map.” He marked a small ‘x’ on the parchment, then handed both items to me. “He’s at Weynon Priory, just southeast of Chorrol. Take the Black Road west from the Red Ring Road.” He handed me a key. “Take this, this will get you into the sewers and out of here.”



Rising to his feet, Baurus held his hand down to me. Grasping his wrist, I stood with his assistance. Rather, he pulled me effortlessly up off the floor. Bending down, he scooped the sword off the floor and handed it to me, hilt first.



“Don’t worry, Julian,” he said while I sheathed the blade. “You made it this far, I trust you can make it the rest of the way on your own.”



I remembered the captain’s katana, still at my back. Unbuckling it from my shoulder, I handed it to Baurus. His gaze moved over it in surprise. “You’ll honor the captain, won’t you, sir?” I asked. “She did die in the line of duty.”



“Thanks,” Baurus regarded me with new respect. “I’ll make sure it gets a place of honor in the Hall of the Blades.” He clapped his hand on my shoulder, the gauntlet pressing through the rough leather of my cuirass. “Travel fast, and stay safe, friend.”


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That's it for the first chapter. Enjoy.

This post has been edited by haute ecole rider: Aug 17 2010, 04:38 PM