Rowan just managed to parry Mercer's dagger strike and jumped back as the former Guildmaster swung his sword, cutting through the air where he was standing.
He stumbled against the uneven surface beneath his feet, ducking when Mercer attempted to cleave him in two.
On the ledge at the corner of his eye, Karliah was locked in combat with Brynjolf. He heard shouting from the both of them but could barely hear it as he scrambled back from another blow, almost losing his footing on the stairs.
"Give up!" Mercer laughed as Rowan was forced to retreat as he kept attacking, "You're no match for me!"
The dagger felt slippery in his grasp, his heart pounding and his brain focused on nothing but dodging and parrying blow after blow, ignoring the cuts Mercer had inflicted on him, blood seeping into his clothes.
He really shouldn't have opened his big mouth, he should have pushed Brynjolf in front of him, or even Karliah, they both at least stand a chance at defeating this madman, not him. Not when he hasn't an ounce of combat training in him, choosing to run away or negotiate whenever trouble jumps at him.
Rowan wasn't sure when he had struck out, just as surprised as Mercer when he managed to strike him in the chest with a shallow cut.
He gaped at Mercer, wide-eyed, he almost couldn't feel the dagger in his hand.
Mercer stared at him with bloodlust in his eyes and really, he should've taken the chance to stab the bastard or something but he was too shocked to move.
"So, the rat knows how to bite back after all," he chuckled, the laughter sending an ominous chill down his spine.
He really should've hung back with his mouth shut.
Mercer roared and suddenly, he was attacking more viciously than earlier.
Rowan fought for his life, frantic energy thrumming through him as he parried and dodged strike after strike, his arm shaking from the force of Mercer's weapons clashing against his own.
He'd only survived so far because of the natural abilities bestowed upon his Shadow sign but his luck eventually ran out.
Rowan gasped at a particular hard clash of Mercer's sword against his dagger, his fingers felt as if they've been broken from the force as his knife went flying.
He didn't see where it landed as Mercer stabbed him in the stomach the very next second.
He let out a strangled cry of pain, the world reduced to the fiery agony in his gut where Mercer's sword was embedded.
Rowan barely registered the other's crazed look as he crumpled to the uneven stairs below him, gasping as the blade slid from his stomach, its edges brightly stained with blood.
He thought he heard his name but he couldn't be sure, staring dazedly up at Mercer, gasping, pained noises spilling from his lips as he clutched at the burning wound.
The Breton held the tip of the sword against his throat, drawing blood as it cut shallowly into his skin.
"The Shadows shall consume you, for all eternity" he snarled, holding his blade up while Rowan lay prone on the stairs, watching his death approach.
Neither of them saw the ugly Falmer spear that flew through the air.
Mercer let out a choked noise, his eyes wide with shock as the spear pierced his neck, the point of it embedded in his windpipe.
The sword fell from his hand as Rowan lay staring at him uncomprehendingly.
Mercer grasped at his throat, choking as dark blood trickled from his lips.
He turned to stare at the ledge, seeing Karliah lying on her back and Brynjolf falling to his knees, panting as he glared balefully at the man he used to work for.
Mercer stumbled and fell from the stairs to the bottom, eyes open and dead.
Brynjolf groaned as the spell finally loses hold on him. He climbed to his feet as the ground shook, rumbling noises echoing around the cavern. Karliah gasped, holding her injured shoulder as she struggled to her feet.
Another quake shook the cavern, pipes bursting open and water spilling into the cave.
Karliah glanced at Mercer's body below them.
"Brynjolf-"
"Rowan!" Brynjolf yelled, ignoring her as he leapt off the ledge, wading through the waist-deep water as he rushed for his lover.
Karliah watched as he ran up to him, ignoring all else as he looked the man over.
She jumped off the ledge and hurried over to Mercer's body, digging through his pouches until she came upon the Skeleton Key.
The water came up to her chest then, lifting her off the floor as it continued to rise at an alarming rate.
"Brynjolf!" She shouted, treading over to him where he was trying to stem the bleeding from Rowan's wound. "We have to get out of here!"
Brynjolf turned to her, grief-striken as Rowan gasped and grasped at him weakly, face turning grey.
"I won't leave him!" He snapped, looking angry and panicked.
Behind them, the doors are completely flooded.
"We'll all die if we don't leave!" Karliah yelled, turning back to see the doors submerged in water, her face paling.
The water lapped at Rowan's form as it continues to rise, his hold on Brynjolf weakening as his eyes slid close.
"No, Rowan!"
Tremors tore through the cavern, dislodging more rocks and dwarven pipes.
They managed to make it to Nightgate Inn just before they froze to death in the icy landscape of The Pale.
The innkeeper was perturbed at the sight of them. He was silenced when Karliah dropped a large bag of gold on the counter, allowing them to take a room for a few nights.
Rowan laid still in the bed, covered with a thick fur blanket. He was still unconscious and looked deathly pale. His stomach was bandaged, his ugly new wound sitting right by the other which haven't completely healed when Mercer tried to kill him the first time.
Brynjolf sat in the chair by his bed with his hands clasped in front of him, staring at his prone form.
Karliah was seated by the table by the other side of the room, occasionally glancing at them and fingering the Skeleton Key in her pouch.
"Brynjolf," she said softly, her voice deafening in the silence of the room.
Brynjolf turned to her, his face blank. Only his eyes gave away what he was feeling, worry brimming in their depths.
"Our work for Lady Nocturnal is yet to be done," she said, "We need to return the Key to her shrine."
He looked at her and waited.
"By failing to protect her temple, I have fallen out of favour with Nocturnal, I can't face her until our quest succeeds."
"You want me to return the Key," Brynjolf concluded.
Karliah nodded.
Brynjolf turned away from her, peering into Rowan's pale face, still looking as if he's on the verge of death.
"What if he doesn't make it?" He muttered in a dull voice.
Karliah was silent.
"Will she save him?" He asked, "If he starts to slip away?"
"The Night Mistress is like a stern mother to her followers," she answered, "Perhaps she will."
Brynjolf dipped his head in the smallest of nods.
He reached out a hand, brushing Rowan's damp hair out of his face. The Imperial stayed asleep, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only signs of life.
The Guild Second seemed to have come to a decision.
He stood and walked towards the Dunmer.
"Take care of him for me," he said.
Karliah nodded and handed him the Key.
Brynjolf took it and slipped it into one of his pouches. He quickly packed what he needed, buying some food and water from the innkeeper and grabbing his fur cloak.
Karliah approached him with her bow in hand.
"Take this," she said, holding it out with both hands, "I've had this bow for my entire life and it has never let me down. I hope it brings you the same luck."
Brynjolf took it from her, staring down at it, "I'm not much of a bowman but thank you."
She handed him her quiver that's still half-filled with arrows.
Brynjolf slung it over his back, along with the bow.
He glanced at Rowan, his heart heavy at the prospect of leaving him behind.
"We'll await your return," Karliah said.
Brynjolf nodded to her, looked at Rowan one last time before leaving the inn.