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Tempting Fate
Prologue
Drunken revelry usually was the prelude to something more sinister. Exchanging sense and reason for bliss in a bottle, responsibility became nothing more than an irritating voice in the back of one's head, representing past mistakes, present choices, and the uncertain future.
Maybe that was why so many drank to forget. The sin of indulgence and hedonism provided a temporary reprieve from such memories and for some the opportunity was tempting enough.
The bottle had called to her from its post on a battered crate. The owner was a notorious drinker; a fact Linith discovered when she had finally picked the lock to his room. Bottles littered the dusty floor and she paid them no mind until she faced the exit, one small barrier in place.
She had what she had come for, supplies and clothes. Her pack was already beginning to bulge at the seams, but that point conveniently came and went. There was simply alcohol and the knowledge that if necessary, space could be made. A thought had taken root then, the image of a celebration amongst friends bringing a smile to her face.
She took one and then two, knowing that she wasn't the only one who enjoyed the swill. It was cheap and awful, and she was doing the owner a favor by relieving him of it. After all, what harm was there in living a little?
None at all, she had thought. Now if you were to ask the guards currently chasing her…they would probably have some objections.
This had to be payback. Only that could explain how spectacularly their plan had failed.
The normally buzzing streets had been empty, not a single soul present on the abandoned stone paths. That was not a good sign at all she realized now, yet their need to finish the job had outweighed their inherent fear of capture.
Armand had assigned them both to a simple job, one that required them to retrieve supplies. Their target, the warehouse on the waterfront, housed everything they needed to help them accomplish that. Food and clothes were always valuable necessities, but some were reserved for the beggars, their most important source of information.
Methredhel had been her partner in crime tonight, and Linith hoped that in spite of everything, the other Bosmer wouldn't intervene. Lately, she'd been far from graceful in her jobs and duties. One completed job led to another, and the routine had begun to wear on her in a rather unpleasant way. She was silent and careful, finished her given task, and when everything was taken care of, she was paid.
Curiosity decided to speak up. Although she'd completed her task, how many different ways could she have done the same thing?
She had luck. Being born under the Thief's constellation had predisposed her to such a trait, and more than once she had relied exclusively on it.
When would it run out completely?
Linith began to test it repeatedly. Sometimes she would fail to bring enough lockpicks, and other times she wouldn't watch her step in some of the more trap-heavy ruins of the Ayleids. It had remained strong and true, holding up in spite of all the stress hefted onto it.
Now, how had it handled her biggest challenge? Turning herself into a distraction good enough to keep the infamous watch captain Hieronymus Lex looking the other way, twiddling his thumbs? One of Linith's guildmates had picked a pocket dangerously close to him, and out of desperation, she had thrown together an outfit and asked him for directions to the nearest Inn. Her costume consisted of rags haphazardly stitched together, and to finish off the look, she had grabbed a handful of dirt and smeared it on her face. She had half expected him to see through the not so clever subterfuge and slap her with a jail sentence.
Even at that moment, did it threaten to falter? Why no, it didn't. The guard captain had even offered to walk her there, and it had taken all her remaining willpower to retain the façade instead of collapsing to the ground, laughing all the while.
No, that wasn't the breaking point. Her luck had decided to exit under the guise of a much more mundane item.
Months earlier, the bottom of her old sack had completely ripped open. It had already suffered the recklessness of another when she had come into possession of it, and late one night the stretched tan bottom had decided to give up the fight. Impatient and irritated, she'd taken up a needle and added several sloppy rushed stitches to repair it for the moment. They looked awful and barely held the torn ends together, but by her standards, they worked.
Slipping back to present time, she'd forgotten how frail the speedy manufactured bond between the two ends was. She'd only taken the time to remember that it was a bag, and that it had the capacity to hold quite a few items if need be. Said bag was then stuffed to the brim, and two bottles of pure vice took up whatever space remained. One with particularly good hearing could've heard the stitches creaking then.
The guard had opened the door to the office of the Imperial Trading Company and walked right past her. She had barely made it out the door when-
The weight on her back was suddenly lifted and that should not have happened at all.
There went one bottle and she only had to wait a second for its twin to follow. By the time the second had announced itself by shattering on the stones below, she was already running, eyes aimed straight ahead with no desire to look back.
Her heart pounded in her chest and threatening to stop once her fears were confirmed. The streets were flooded with guards. Someone had tipped them off. Either that or they had finally wised up.
One guard moved into her path and drew his sword, a wicked blade that glinted in the faint moonlight. Linith's muscles tensed, recognizing the fact that any hit would be detrimental to escape and prepared to dodge.
A rock shot out of the darkness, ricocheting off his helmet and drawing his attention away from her. Linith used that opportunity to charge him, throwing her shoulder into him and knocking him to the ground. She stumbled momentarily, regaining her balance an unsteady step later, knowing that he wouldn't be down for long. The burden spell that she had thrown in as a parting gift wasn't very powerful and she didn't want to waste any time getting as far away as she could.
Stayhiddenstayhiddenplease
She really didn't want Methredhel to do any more than she had. She hoped, nearly prayed, but such a thought ended prematurely when arms covered in armor wound around her, roughly tackling her to the ground. She hoped and nearly prayed, but that thought was cut short when she was roughly tackled to the ground. It was a smaller, quicker guard and she refused to let him trap her. Linith rolled, twisted, bit at and even attempted to headbutt him. Her forehead screamed in agony as that action proved extremely ineffective, but desperation refused to let her give up.
Methredhel had called her a lucky son of a fetcher once. Luck was something you either had or you didn't.
This time she didn't.
The throng of city guards closed in, drawing nearer as she broke free. White silver flashed near her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. The guard's grip had slipped on her leather armor, allowing her to scramble on unsteady feet, flight on her mind. However, fear and shock left her rooted to the spot, banishing all feelings of relief.
Unforgiving metal then met bone. Searing agony came in an instant, pain's heat exploding violently in her skull. Darkness rushed in soon after, swallowing her consciousness, while barbed hooks dragged her down a vast tunnel, into a cold, unknown place, devoid of everything.
Lots of thanks given to Sonsasu The Winter Dragon for being my beta! Hopefully this will be the start of something fun and interesting. It will follow the main quest, but I'll try and add some variety to it. As a warning, the tense used in this section may change in the first chapter. Enjoy, and constructive criticism is always appreciated.