CHAPTER TWO

THE ESCAPE

"So who's this then?" asked the Nord, kicking the heavy iron cell door. Inside, the prisoner remained shrouded in darkness, offering no indication that he was there at all.

"Calls himself 'Rojack Arreth'" muttered the Dunmer, consulting the heavy clipboard and list he had in his hands. "Breton. Caught him sneaking over the western mountains in the Reach."

"Towards High Rock?"

"Away, actually."

"So he's a spy."

"That would be the most logical conclusion" said the Dunmer, fiddling with his list. "However, he hasn't said a word since we got him."

"So? You know the drill with spies, little elf. You drag him down to the dungeons and start branding his scrotum until he says something" snorted the Nord, chuckling. Again, if the
occupier of the shadows in the cell heard a word of this, he gave no indication.

"We've got that scheduled for tomorrow, actually" hissed the Dunmer indignantly, angry about the 'little elf' insult that the half-brained Nords seemed to be so fond of. The kitchen slaves in the Telvanni high tower could come up with better put-downs that that in a heartbeat.

"Get the lizards to give him his meal then" said the Nord, kicking the cell door again. "Hey, Arreth. I'd start choking my chicken for a while if I were you, 'cause I don't think you're going to have much chance after tomorrow."

Laughing, he wandered off.

Inside, Rojack finally stirred. He stood up, stretched, and shook himself awake. He was going to need every function of his body at its peak for what he was planning.

There was a guard patrol coming past his door, and he listened in the shadows. When casual, they appeared to be slow and conversational, far more interested in themselves than guarding their prisoners. Their hands were kept away from their swords, helmets appeared to be askew – nearly everything pointed towards easily-exploitable disorganisation.

Rojack stood beside his cell door, waiting for the guards to pass by before banging hard on the bars with his foot. The effect was immediate as the two soldiers snapped to attention, staring at his door.

"What's with the racket, Daggerfall scum?" muttered one of them, squaring up to the door and looking around for him. Like lightning, Rojack whipped away from the wall and lashed out with his fists, catching the guard full in the face.

"Argh! You- I'll kill-" snarled the guard, swinging for Rojack in retaliation. The Breton stepped away the instant his own punch had connected, so the Nord guard's fist only passed through empty air. This enraged the guard even more, as he scrambled for the keys on his belt.

"You're going to die, you – ACK!" choked the guard as he threw open the door. The flat of Rojack's hand came flying seemingly out of nowhere, chopping him in the throat and making him double over, unable to breathe.

The second guard charged through the cell door just as Rojack pulled the suffocating guard's sword out from the sheath and struck, his mace smashing into the stone wall where the Breton had been seconds ago. Rojack returned the blow, slashing him across the arm. The guard bellowed and dropped his mace, and couldn't shout to raise the alarm as Rojack impaled him through the chest.

The other guard was a quick kill, and now Rojack was on his own for a few moments. He rooted around for the guard's keys before stumbling out of his cell into the guard barracks.

"GUARDS! GUARDS!"

The Dunmer who had been holding the clipboard and list was racing towards him, bellowing for reinforcements. With his escape plan royally fucked, Rojack took off towards the exit, bowling out into the cold of Dawnstar.

The cell had been freezing, but the chill of the snowy night still hit him like a brick. Rojack ran, his heavy breathing creating a sheen of mist in front of his face, around the edge of the town towards the docks and the path into mainland Skyrim.

"GET HIM! STOP HIM!"

That bloody Dunmer was still screaming for blood, and as the first guard took notice and drew his weapon, Rojack acted instantly, slashing him across the chest, spinning around the guard and impaling the unfortunate Nord in the back.

Two other guards – this time a Nord and an Argonian – were sprinting towards him, one with a large steel axe and the other with a spear. The Argonian jabbed first, thrusting at Rojack with his weapon while the Breton dodged and tried to avoid it. The Nord lunged at him, axed raised, and Rojack sidestepped, slashing him across the stomach with one hand and grabbing the spear shaft with the other.

As the Nord fell to the ground, holding in his guts, Rojack wrenched the spear forward, offsetting the Argonian's balance somewhat. The lizard stumbled forward and Rojack seized his chance, pushing forward and ramming his sword into the guard's open mouth. The blade pierced the back of his throat and emerged out the other side, and the shocked Argonian dropped lifeless to the floor.

Leaving the sword behind, Rojack sprinted for the path out of the town, where just one single guard blocked his way. With a roar, the first truly audible sound that he'd made since his arrest, Rojack seized his weapon wrist, spun around until the guard was pressed into his back, and heaved, pulling the guard over his shoulders in an extremely impressive feat of strength. The man crumpled to the snow, howling, as Rojack tore off into the snowy wilderness, the rage of a bested town echoing at his heels.