Okay, first fanfiction, but not first story. I have an account on fictionpress under the name andrhars for those who are interested.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Bethesda Softworks does. If I was the owner, you would've seen some very strange things in the game.
Failed Prophecy
Chapter 1
The walls were closing in on her, like they wanted nothing else but to squash her into a fine pulp. Her breath came in short bouts, her chest burning with each intake. Her feet hurt as if they'd been stepped on thousands upon thousands of times. Her eyes were blurry, making her unable to see anything but the light of the burning torch in her hand and the few feet it illuminated in front of her. She could hear the growling and squeaking of rats and goblins alike behind her, trying to catch her, to kill her. The floor was of stone, neatly laid in place and carefully fit into the larger picture. She vaguely noted that she was climbing up a staircase, stubbing her toes on every step. She checked quickly if the amulet and necklace were still on her person. It was. She ran over a bridge. A crude arrow flew by and embedded itself into the wall inches from her head, all unnoticed by the running woman. Only one thing went through her head now. Escape…have to escape…
She rounded a corner and entered a larger room, no longer in the narrow tunnels beneath the Imperial City. She could, with her severely limited vision, spot a small prick of light ahead of her. Daylight. She whirled around when she noticed something moving in the corner of her eye. Nothing was there. Savagely shaking her head, she started running again, unaware of the blood that seeped from her toes where her nails had been ripped out by who knows what. All she could think about was that light, the possible escape from the hellish labyrinth. The light grew larger. She could now see that the light was in the end of a perfectly circled tunnel. She used the very last reserves of her strength to increase her running speed…and ran right into the rusty iron bars blocking the way. She swore she could see stars while she lay for what felt like an eternity as the impossibly agonising pain in her head and nose ebbed slowly away.
She contemplated staying there until the pain went away all together, but when the squeaking and growling grew in loudness she quickly got back on her aching feet and hurled herself at the gate she could dimly see, hoping that it would give. It did, and she ran as fast as she could toward the light, knowing that goblins and various other residents of the tunnels despised sunlight more than anything in all of Nirn. Fresh air washed over her as she approached it, promising warm summer and endless rolling hills of green. Her chest still ached considerably, but the change of air seemed to remedy it fast. The light expanded, and she was outside…
"Heh, looks like someone will be missing their lunch," he said quietly to himself as he looked at the bandits talking and laughing amongst themselves while they went into the Ayleid ruins. "I can't believe they're going to let all that meat just lay about like that."
If one were to look at his location, they would see nothing. His light green cloak and hood made him blend in perfectly with his surroundings. For all intents and purposes, he was currently part of the foliage behind a large leaf tree. Of course, his intentions were slightly different than the one looking at him. He was hungry, and fruits and vegetables can only last that long before a boy's body starts craving something else, especially this one. The last of the bandits disappeared inside, overcome by their greed at the leader's promise of treasure beyond their wildest dreams.
He waited for a minute, making sure they wouldn't come out and catch in the act, after which he ducked out from behind the tree and jogged slowly towards the camp. He had learned his lesson after far too many surprises in similar situations. Sure, he'd been younger, but one quickly learns that things never change just because you grow older…at least not with bandits and their food supplies. He readied his club just in case. He positioned himself behind a wall and peeked around it. Two small tents and a burning fire, just as he had observed. Sneaking slowly over to the bag next to the first tent, he took a quick look at the mighty walls of the Imperial City, White Gold Tower standing proud and tall, daring anyone to try to knock it down. The Ayleids knew how to build everlasting buildings, at least with the cities. The ruins around him right now were…less impressive. Walls were giving in to mould and other erosion, leaving behind small pieces of the once pure white stone fortresses and towns.
He noticed a building on a small outcrop on the island. The all-too famous Imperial Prison. He shuddered as he thought about the stories he'd heard from visitors and former prisoners. Going there was one of his least desires, which was why he tended to avoid cities in general. Not that it would be a problem for him to break out, of course; he wasn't a self-proclaimed master of lock-picking and guard-avoiding for nothing. He took a brief look at the barred sewer disposal tunnel on another small island close to the ruins he was currently stealing food at. He had heard that a system of ancient tunnels and passages could lead someone nearly anywhere in the city, and he sometimes longed to test out the theory, but would always come to his senses immediately afterwards, physically slapping himself for even thinking about it.
He threw himself behind some crates that were placed in a corner-piece of wall, most likely to hold garbage and other waste. Wishing he'd remembered to gather his long black hair in a pony-tail before he went to steal since it kept falling into his eyes where he was crouching, he watched as one of the bandits staggered out, drunk as few can be.
'I guess they've started to celebrate already,' he thought. How someone can so possibly drunk in such short time was a mystery to him. He realised how quickly afterwards. The drunken bandit wasn't one of those who had been outside when he was spying. 'Someone started earlier than the others…I would've too, I guess.'
The bandit lurched a little where he stood, complained loudly and cursed at the sun shining brightly in the sky and promptly collapsed to the ground, singing a shanty in his sleep, an old sailor, possibly.
He slowly came out from behind the crates and went back to checking the bag he had opened before the bandit came out. It was empty. He grunted in dissatisfaction and looked over to the other tent. A very well taken care-of barrel stood next to it, a rock weighing the lid down, a tell-tale sign of badly stored meat. 'Oh well, meat's meat,' he thought and went over to it, bashing the passed-out bandit over the head with his club as he passed him just to make sure he wouldn't wake while he robbed the gang.
He opened the barrel carefully, almost vomiting when the smell of rotting, maggot-infested meat assaulted his nose. He didn't bother looking further down the barrel fir any meat that wasn't spoiled. There was only one possibility left: Inside the ruins and he wasn't too keen on the idea. He had quite a dilemma on his hands. He could either risk his health and possibly his life by going into the ruins and stealing from the gang in there or go back to his hideout and sustain himself with apples and carrots. 'Hard decision…'
Fortunately, at least for him, he didn't have to make the choice. A feminine screaming noise filled his ears from somewhere behind him, from across the lake, as a matter of fact. He circled around the tent and wall and looked at the island the prison was located on. A young woman was running around, screaming her head off while stumbling on rocks and whatnot. He didn't quite grasp what was happening until she ran down the small dock jumped into the cold lake water…and didn't emerge.
Instincts took over and sent him into the water as well; ignoring Slaughterfish and Mudcrabs and hoping that there weren't any stray Dreughs in the area as well. The water was very cold despite it being summer and warm like nothing else. Swimming to the general area where the girl had disappeared, he looked up and down until he spotted something bouncing off the sunlight. Hair! He quickly swam downwards to it and saw that it was indeed the screaming maniac that had jumped off the dock. He hooked his elbows under her arms and started kicking his legs to get them away from the dark depths. His chest was starting to burn from the lack of air, which made him kick all the harder.
When his head finally cleared the barrier between water and air, he took several deep gulps of air. Realising that the girl was unconscious and not breathing, he paddled over to the prison island. Dragging the still body ashore, he threw himself to his knees and laid his ear to her chest. Not a sound. He positioned his hands over her chest over her heart and started pumping, pausing to blow air into her mouth to encourage her to breathe on her own. It felt like he did it forever, but when she suddenly started coughing up water, he laid her on her side so she wouldn't drown herself. 'Again,' he added mentally.
She stopped coughing and collapsed on her back again, breathing quickly. He looked at her, wondering if she was awake at all or if it was just her body working automatically. "Hey, are you awake?" he tried. No response. "Hey, I said 'are you awake'?" he tried again. No response. He gave up and sat down beside her. He finally noticed that she wasn't a human. It bugged him, for he couldn't figure out exactly what she was. She was an elf, of that he was sure when he saw the pointed ears, but she didn't have the basic appearance of an Altmer, Dunmer or Bosmer. Her hair was a very bright shade of blonde, and her face extremely pale, most likely from the lack of sun. She was also very thin, like she hadn't eaten properly in months. She was wearing some very old pieces of leather huntsman's armour that looked like they'd been lying on the bottom of a chest for a couple of decades, and her feet were bare. The feet themselves were a grisly sight of torn out toenails and scratches and cuts. Nicks and bruises littered the pieces of visible skin, and she had what looked like a developing black eye. 'What happened to you?' he asked himself. He didn't want to guess her age, knowing that most elves could live to be centuries old, but he estimated that she was not very old, even by elven standards..
Her breathing had evened out, and he was convinced she was okay now, just very tired. Which brought him to the next problem. They were both soaking wet, and if there was anything he knew, it was that near-drowning victims should never be cold. He briefly contemplated the well-known body heat principle, but when he took one look at the sleeping elf, his mind was filled thoughts that weren't that appropriate for the situation at hand. Instead, he opted to light a fire. He always carried some pieces of flint with him in case he had to light a fire, and the dock nearby provided some very convenient firewood in the form of old crated and barrels. Having made his decision, he stood up and tore off his wet and heavy cloak and went to work.
The fire blazed warmly and he warmed his freezing hands. Even though the sun was shining and the weather in general was warm, he still couldn't get his own hands warm. The girl was lying as close to the fire as he could place her without risking setting her on fire. He had, to his relief, discovered that she was wearing tattered clothing under her leather armour and had wasted no time in removing said leather so they wouldn't prevent her from being heated. During this he had also saw that she was wearing what looked like bracers around her wrists. The kind that prisoners chained to walls have. That was one less mystery for him to solve: she was an escaped prisoner, though what she possibly could have done to deserve the kind of treatment her appearance hinted at still eluded him. He had often heard stories about the guards being unnecessarily brutal, and sometimes, if the prisoner was a woman, they would…he shook his head, the thought was too disconcerting.
A groan from his side caught his attention and he turned his head to the source. The girl had sat up, rubbing her head painfully, her eyes screwed shut. He looked confused on as she started shaking her head and mumbling to herself unintelligibly. He caught a few words. "Emperor…heir…Weynon…Jauffre…"
Worried that she had lost her mind, he coughed slightly, hoping that she would notice him. She did. Her head whirled around so quickly that he was confused how her neck could handle it without snapping. When the saw him, her face adopted a panicked expression and she scrambled away, eventually backing up into a tree, too weak to stand on her own legs.
"Hey, hey, don't worry, you're safe," he said carefully. She kept looking at him with wide eyes. "Listen, I saw you jump into the water, and when you didn't come up I got worried and then I jumped in and rescued you and…" he clamped his jaw shut when he realised he was babbling. 'As if talking like a fool is going to help here.'
He sat back down, wondering if that would make her feel safer. "I was worried that you wouldn't wake up again, you were under there for a long time. How do you feel?" He spoke calmly and evenly, careful not to seem threatening. He found it hard to believe that she could be afraid of him, especially since he was definitely younger than her.
She seemed to calm down somewhat, starting to trust him a bit. Her mouth kept opening and closing, much like a fish underwater he noted, and she finally forced out words. "Who…who are you?" she asked.
He smiled gently at her. "My name is Dyxan, what's yours?"
She smiled hesitantly back. "Kira."
To be continued…
Right, so I'm leaving it off there, hoping that someone will think this to be intriguing enough to perhaps…leave me a tiny review? So I can write more and perhaps finish the story? Please?
