Drip. Drip. Drip. Talin could still hear the water as it formed slowly into a tiny bead, hanging to the cold stone for just a moment longer than seemed natural, before finally releasing its tight grip on all it knew and falling to the dirty floor below. Water that had made the journey from snow-capped peaks, down crevasses, through streams, and gullies, and mighty rivers, past cities great and small, to eventually find its way through the earth to the cavernous sewer, ending its life in the thick muck before Talin's feet.
The darkness surrounded him in the hall. The musty air whooshed past his ears, into his nose and mouth. He coughed. The dank air in here had the smell of death on it. The various sounds of the tunnels came to his ears. The skittering of sharp claws on bare stone, strange moaning noises, and, worst of all, the sounds of goblins.
So the rumors were true? They must be. Talin had faced goblins before. Once. On his way to the Imperial City. He remembered such an event well. One did not soon forget goblins, nor their first taste of combat.
He and his friends, Burba and Nil, had been travelling with only a wagon full of food and a couple of packhorses through the Pale Pass. Not much, but evidently enough to attract goblins. That had been the first time he had drawn the blood of another. Sure, he had gone hunting before, but never had he killed another thinking being. His friends did not wish to use their swords again, and neither did Talin. It had frightened all of them enough for a whole year of nightmares, and they had barely made it to Cyrodiil alive after they had been forced to leave their possessions to the goblins. Even so, it appeared Talin might indeed need to use his blade again, and soon.
The calls echoing down the halls were just as he remembered them. A deep, ugly, guttural sound, deaths wings flapping wildly in the cold night air. And the drums, he heard them too. A steady beat. They knew he was there.
He strained to see what was outside his cell, but it was impossible. No matter how hard he stared into the darkness, all he saw was black as pitch.
Carefully, Talin pried the candle out of the nearby iron sconce. He hushed a shout, and a whispered BLAST! as the hot beads of wax dripped down onto his fingers. Smoke curled up where it touched his bare flesh, but there was not much he could do about it. He had to get out of the dungeon. Turning back to the door he saw finally what lay before him.
The sewers were a complex system of various tunnels and gates that ran every which way. Hallways that led to dead ends were common, and certain areas of the sewer flooded quickly and unpredictably. He hoped it was not raining topside.
Ria had said to go southwest to the Shift Gate. Regrettably, her directions were useless, seeing as he lacked a compass. Even if he did have a compass, he was not exactly sure how the Shift Gate worked. He had heard stories of them, but they were not very common at all. Too complex, taxing on one's abilities for most, and in many places, the arcane arts weren't exactly looked upon…fondly. He would have to hope his luck held out.
Starting forward, his dagger held out in front of him, at whatever lay in the darkness beyond the light, he noticed an old suit of armor lying, disused, off to one side. Ria had mentioned that the sewers were filled with quite a bit of gold and bits of armor and weaponry, enough to support himself outside of the Empire. He supposed that this was one of the caches she had mentioned.
The armor would only serve to restrict his movement, he knew from training. Even facing goblins alone, he would prefer to do it without the armor, especially if he decided to try what little magic he knew on them. Besides, he also knew from training that the armor did not offer much protection at all. He still had a few black and blue marks on him that were not from being dragged to his cell.
Taking with him only what he could eventually sell, Talin continued cautiously down the hall, towards a fork in the path. In front of him, the path continued on straight, but off to his right a smaller path ran off along the water, eventually to what looked like a sort of bridge, in the dim light. He heard the goblin calls, closer this time, and in front of him, straight ahead it seemed. He heard the drums, and the pounding of their feet on the stone, coming towards him.
Talin bolted off to his right. One hand, with his dagger, touching the wall, and the other tightly wrapped around the warm candle (He did not dare put the candle out, even if it might alert the goblins, despite the fact that it was not very bright. For he had no way to light it again). He was careful not slip on the slick stones underfoot, for he knew not what lay in the murky water to his left. He ran as fast as he could. He did not know exactly how many followed him, but he could tell by the sounds of pursuit that there were many.
Suddenly, approaching the bridge ahead, he heard another cry out in front of him. Turning, his back against the moss-covered wall, he saw it. Its round face, lips red with blood, green eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, its pointy ears as daggers being stabbed into the very sky. He saw its round belly, its thin, scrawny arms, the small leather loincloth, the only item of clothing it wore. Talin's eyes rose to the massive axe it wielded, nearly as big as the goblin that held it. The long, thick, haft rose a good four feet before tapering off into a sharp stake. The blade itself was a curved half-moon, very sharp. It wanted blood.
Suddenly, the goblin snarled and leapt at Talin. The seconds he stood there seemed to take hours. He watched as the muscles in its legs flexed, as it lifted off the ground, lunging across the bridge in a single bound, its axe held back, about to be swung.
As if it were instinct, Talin pulled his own blade back, swinging it in a straight line in front of him. At first, he felt only air. Then, something solid. It took Talin a moment to realize exactly what had happened. It lay there, unmoving. A yellowy shape, covered in blood. Those green eyes stared back out, glowing, at nothing. A deep wound ran across the creature's stomach. Talin dare not examine it to see if it had anything of value. He had killed.
Stepping past the body, careful not to touch it, he walked through the open gate behind the goblin. Its home, he noticed, with a start. It didn't hold much. There was a stone slab that it seemed to use as a bed. A small pile of bones on one side. A few roots hung from the ceiling. No more than that. He could not imagine anyone living down here.
Walking out of the room, back across the bridge, he could hear them behind him again. Closer, this time. Much closer. Running, he noticed a small area off to his right. Cut into the wall was what looked like a sort of raised platform, large enough for a man to remain crouched in. It was dark in there. The goblins might not notice if he hid there. They were drawing nearer. It was worth a shot. In fact, he seemed to have no other choice.
Climbing up, he crawled to the back corner. It wreaked of feces in there, and death, and rotting flesh. The floor was covered in hair, and bones. A rat den, Talin realized, to his horror. He could hear them squealing, saw the red eyes glowing at the edge of the darkness. And the rats here were big rats.
Suddenly, one emerged at the edge of the light, sniffing at something. For a moment it seemed not to notice. Its brown coat was matted with a mixture of blood and water and urine. Its long, pink tail, curled out behind him. It must have weighed at least five pounds. He could see the small black nose, the beady eyes, everything was there. He prayed it did not look up; and so it did.
They both sat there for a moment, Talin and the rat, staring at each other. Even the rat seemed to know that only one of them would get out alive. Talin knew it too, but he was not sure whether he meant the sewer or the rat.
The rat squealed, and rushed toward him. He caught it with his dagger, but even as he did so, a dozen others came out of the darkness towards him too, all screeching a high-pitched squeal. Surely, this would attract the attention of the goblins, natural predators of rats. He had to get out of there.
He tried to hold them off, hacking and slashing, he just needed enough of a break in the action to get out of there. If one even nicked him as he climbed out of the platform, with all the diseases they carried, well…he did not want to think. But they would not let up. He waved his sword wildly as the puddle of dark blood surrounding him grew wider. As he battled the horde, he inched his way slowly toward the exit.
Finally, with one, last, loud, screech, what seemed to be the final rat of the colony fell. Clambering out of the nest, he fell hard atop the stone. Behind him, he could see the green eyes not a hundred feet away. Picking himself up, he ran, not caring which way he went, not even bothering to cleanse his dagger, it still dripped with the blood of the rats. He could only hope that the goblins would be distracted enough by the rat meat to give him a chance to escape, and he could only hope that they had not seen him.
Talin ran through the winding tunnels. Through vast, dark rooms. He breathed heavily, the dank air filling his lungs. He saw the goblins he passed, their green eyes staring out at him, eyes alone, or in pairs. He did not care, he only cared about getting away.
Right, then left, then left again, then right, he knew not where he was headed. One goblin, peered out into the hall, axe raised, it planned to surprise him. Jumping, he narrowly missed, weaving past the goblin's legs, he cut at them. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as it fell in a bloody heap. Its screams followed him through the halls.
He ran into dead ends several times, and had to backtrack. He tried to keep moving quickly, but such proved difficult. He picked up treasure as he ran, so as to have some way to survive away from the city, but this only slowed him down too.
Eventually, Talin found himself in a great hall. The sounds of pursuit still followed. Behind him, he could hear still the shouts and the drums. The meat had delayed them, but not for long. They were coming for him.
The room seemed oddly familiar. On one end, stood two wide, gaping doorways, leading to more halls, and more goblins. On the other end ran the main sewer, the wide, filthy river of muck. He could smell it all the way across the hall. Across the sewer stood yet another gaping doorway, the bridge to it long-crumbled, impossible to get to. Behind him, the door he had entered through, and on the fourth wall…bodies. He could smell those too. The dungeons were not used often, but they were used, for the worst offenders. They were left for the goblins, and, worse, the rats. Rats like human flesh.
At the corner of one doorway, Talin noticed something, another bloody heap. Not a person, he could clearly see that, but something else. From what he had heard, there was nothing else down here but goblins and rats, and the occasional prisoner. He could not think of anything else that would willingly stay down here. As he drew closer, he saw it for what it was, and why the room looked so familiar. The goblin he had earlier wounded as he rounded the corner lay there, dead, now. He was running in circles.
There was no way out. All three would lead to goblins, and the one across the water he dared not try to reach, and risk the whatever it was that was in the water. There was no way out.
He could not climb up either, even if he thought that the way out might be up. The walls were slicked by water and blood. Drums. Drums. Drums. They were nearer. Gathering what he had, he tried to set up a barricade. Perhaps he could fight off the goblins.
It was then that he realized that he did not know which way they were coming. Suddenly, the water was looking much more pleasant. He would have to make a bet, with his life. He chose the doorway he had exited through the first time. He would have to work quickly. There was not much time.
Sweat dripped down his face despite the coolness of the place. He did not have long. He wondered how many they numbered. He had heard of packs hunting in hundreds, but he doubted if there were more than 25 marching towards him. Even so, he doubted if he could handle that many alone. He knew only one spell that could cause any harm, and he did not think he had the energy to even try it. He would have to rely on his blade.
He finished just as the green eyes began to round the corner at the end of the hall. The barricade was crude. Made only of sticks and bones, and lashed together only with roots and chains. He knew it could not hold for long. Picking up a nearby saber, he prepared to defend the room.
He watched as the rest rounded the corner. A lot more than 25, it looked more to be at least fifty, likely many more. He trembled as he watched. He had never before seen anything like it. He wondered why, with all the rats, they wanted him so badly? If they had plenty of food, the why? There was something abou-
Suddenly, instinct took over, and he was running for his life, sheathing his sword, he dropped the candle. He no longer cared what was in the water. He jumped in. The icy fingers gripped him. That door across the water was the only escape. He fought to swim for it, but the current pulled at him. Behind him, he could hear as the goblins broke through the barricade, could hear their screeching, their desire for blood. The waves reared up, washing over his face. He kept his mouth clamped shut. He was frightened. He had swum before, but he was certainly not very good at it, and the current here was strong. It pulled him on, past the door, into the canals.
The low ceilings brushed his head as he struggled to stay above the surface. The current pulled him roughly through twists and turns. Several times, he saw a means of escape in another hall, but he could never reach it. He had escaped the goblins, but not the sewers, not by a longshot.
Finally, the water slammed him into the floor of a hall. He struggled up onto it. Careful not to slip on wet floor. Finally, he pulled both legs up and over the lip of the floor. Luckily, the room was well lit by wall-mounted candles, and it seemed that the rest of the halls from here on out were too. He could no longer hear the goblins, but he knew they were there, the ones who had placed the candles. It was not over yet. He still did not know where he was, but he ran on.
After running for what seemed like hours through dank, dark, passageways, Talin found a place to rest; what looked like a small, forgotten hallway leading to a dead end. Sitting down, he realized just how long he had been in the sewers. His feet felt like they were on fire. He was not sure he could go on much longer. How much sewer could there be? The Shift Gate had to be getting close. He just needed a short rest…
Abruptly, the wall he had been leaning against swung back. As he looked behind him, he saw two very surprised goblins enter his field of view. Quickly, he unsheathed his dagger. He swung it quickly, and surely. Both screamed before falling to the floor, dead. Any hunting parties nearby would've heard the screams. The drums would be sounded again. He had to keep moving, despite exhaustion.
Once more, Talin found himself running for his life through dark, musty, halls. Faintly, he could hear the drums behind him as the signal went out. The only difference this time was the heads that stared back at him from the walls.
He knew the history of the sewers, originally much of it had been dungeons, and the carvings of heads, their mouths agape, had been put there for some unknown reason, perhaps to scare the prisoners, perhaps they were decorative, though the latter seemed quite unlikely. Anyhow, eventually, much of the dungeons were converted to the sewer system for the Imperial City, and many of the heads destroyed. However, here, they appeared to have been kept. Eerie relics of the past.
As he continued his flight, he could hear behind him the drums, louder. The beat was faster now, and quickly speeding up, and it was drawing near. They would outrun him soon.
Turning a corner, Talin found that the main light source was no longer the candles, but a faint, blue glow at the end of the hall, a long straightaway. His feet pounded against the cold stone. Adrenaline pumped through his veins.
Sparing a quick glance over his shoulders, his eyes met small pairs of green dots glaring back at him, right on his tail. One lunged for him. Jumping, Talin narrowly avoided the creature's outstretched hand. Unsheathing his sword, Talin prepared for a running battle against the horde he saw behind him. Another jumped, and was met with cold steel.
Ahead, the Shift Gate lay only a few hundred feet away. Talin could reach it in another minute as long as the goblins did not reach him first. Soon they would not even need to jump after him.
Not thirty more seconds and he would reach the exit. It looked as if he would escape after all! Talin picked up speed. He was almost there. Suddenly, a gap opened up between him and the gate. The canals ran right through his path. A wide gap between him and salvation. His mind raced. There was no other way but to jump.
Talin gave a powerful kick, and he lifted up off the ground. Behind him, he could hear the cries of more goblins. Screeching, beckoning him back, wanting blood. One leapt after him, catching his ankle. He barely had time to regain his balance before he hit the water.
The current was even stronger here. He struggled, slashing at the goblin fighting him, holding onto the bank with all of his strength. It snarled at him, spat at him. Talin held on. Finally he slashed at the goblin's fingers. It let go with a yelp as the current carried it below the surface. Clambering up, Talin sprinted toward the Shift Gate. More jumped after him, but they were too late.
As Talin bounded into the Shift Gate he was bathed in a brilliant blue light. The air here was cool. He had survived! He had escaped the sewers. The air seemed to shimmer before him just as it had when he had been contacted by Ria. He noticed a small black dot on the horizon. Growing, slow at first, then quickly. It grew and grew, until he was completely enveloped in darkness.