Chapter Two
Swan was trapped in a deep sleep. In fact, it was a sleep so deep that were one to look upon her sleeping form, they might mistake her for a dead woman. Her breaths came unnaturally slow and there was not an ounce of tension running through any of the muscles in her body. Thus was the nature of the drought she had been forcibly given. They had taken away her magicka. That was no small feat; she had a lot of it. However, poisoned though she was, it was not enough to take away her dreams.
Swan had always suspected that her dreams were unusual, but she had no desire to share this information with anyone. In fact, she had no desire to share a great many things with anyone. Before her, in the dream, were thousands upon thousands of tiny dots sparkling like the stars in the night sky. They swirled slowly together towards a central point in a vortex, creating a massive point of light in the center of the cluster. She did not know what any of it represented, but she had her theories. For a while she had thought, perhaps, that they were the dreams of other people. Sometimes she wondered if they were planets and whether or not she was viewing all of the known universe. She could almost make out various shapes and figures among the lights when she drew closer, but whenever she tried she would inevitably awaken back into the real world.
Swan sighed to herself, though she didn't know how she did it. She had no body and thus did not have the equipment to sigh, but this was not a normal place. That was not why she sighed, of course. Swan sighed because even though this was the perfect time to investigate the things that taunted her in her dreams, she knew that she had bigger issues to worry about. She needed to escape. She did not know where she was in the real world. Not any more anyway. She doubted that her body was in the same location where she had been knocked unconscious.
She should be scared, she knew, terrified even, but it was hard to be afraid in this place. She could go to other places in her dreams, but this was always where she found herself first and it was comforting to her. The lights here gave off a soft warmth and did not strain her vision. She would doubtless be terrified when she awoke but, at this moment, she felt more anxiety than fear. Who attacked us? She thought. I was on the road near the border with Calcifer and then… Nothing, Swan cursed at herself. Oh Divines! Calcifer! Now she really was getting worried. The old Altmer she had been traveling with must have been attacked as well. Was he okay? Did he get away? Questions raced through Swan's mind like foxes being chased for sport. "The old prick had better be okay or I swear I'll trap his soul and use it to enchant a mop bucket," she growled.
Before she could finish her thought, the dream began to change around her. The lights turned a repulsive shade of red. It was deep and thick like blood. Something was wrong. She felt a ripple of some kind coming from the glowing center of the swirl. It struck her with the force of a flying mountain. When she opened her eyes, she was awake in the real world. She could smell blood.
Yorik grinned to himself as he lifted the lid of the trunk. He had taken the time while all the commotion was going on outside to search the room for useful supplies. Inside was a fresh Imperial soldier's uniform folded with typical military discipline and precision. He pulled the clothes out unceremoniously and placed them onto the wooden table next to him. "Ha!" he chuckled in a raspy voice, "First try." The air in the keep was musty from being underground. Underground complexes of this nature were a very common occurrence in Skyrim, but this one lacked decent ventilation. With a grunt he began to strip down to his undergarments, leaving his rag clothes in a wad stuffed inside the trunk.
After his encounter with the enormous black dragon outside, he had taken shelter in the first semi-fortified structure he could find. It seems that he had chosen wisely; dragons were rubbish underground. On the outside, the keep had looked like a tall cylindrical tower built of stones and mortar, connected to another building adjacent to it. When he had gone inside, however, it wasn't long before there had been stairs to take him downwards into the dug-out basement of the keep. It wasn't very far downwards, but downwards all the same. Now his main focus of concern was whether or not he had to worry about the ceiling overhead coming down on top of him. He could still hear the dragon outside roaring. Every once in a while he would hear something that sounded like a loud booming voice followed by an impact that would cause dirt to briefly spill from above him.
Yorik closed the lid of the trunk and sat down on the lid. He really hoped that these boots would fit. He had been without a decent pair of boots since he had been captured. He held one boot up to his left foot followed by another to his right. Yorik frowned down at the comparison. They were just small enough to be uncomfortable, bunching up his toes near the point. It would be enough to put him in a foul mood after a while, but they were not small enough to encumber his movement. They would have to do.
When he had finished changing he went over to one of the shelves taking care to keep his weight on his heels for now and took a bottle of Alto Wine from it. He yanked the cork out with his teeth and spat it off to the side in one fluid motion. Next he poured half the bottle onto the floor and crouched down to look at himself in the puddle he had made. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and analyzed his appearance. His hair was unkempt. That was unavoidable, but he would cover that with the helmet he had pulled from the trunk. His face was also covered in travel dirt from the road, so he dipped two fingers in the puddle of wine and attempted to wipe his face clean. It wasn't a perfect job, and he smelled like alcohol, but he would have to be satisfied with it for now. All in all it was a passable disguise. That being said, he needed to find a weapon just in case. He felt naked without one. From what he could tell, he was either in a kitchen, a cellar, or a pantry of some kind, so he doubted he would be able to find much.
Yorik hastily searched around until he found a knife made out of dull iron. He scowled, cursing under his breath. It looked like its previous owner had been using it to cut his food. He was armed with a butter knife. Still, it was better than nothing, so he tucked it into his belt.
"I need to get out of this bloody keep..." he said to himself. There was another boom from above and more dirt fell from the cracks in the ceiling. "… Before it comes down on me." He looked over the room one last time, finding two small healing potions, then left the room, going deeper into the Imperial keep.
When Swan realized where she was she immediately closed her eyes again. She was lying on the floor in a cage. That cage was in a dark room and she could smell blood. There was a noise that sounded like fighting, but it seemed very distant to Swan's ears. Her first instinct was to feel out the magicka within her. It's gone! She thought. She fought down a wave of panic almost unsuccessfully. She hadn't been this disarmed since she was a child. She tried to move her hand to quietly feel out her location. She couldn't move her hand! She tried to move other parts of her body and found that they were just as limp. If she could move, she knew that she would likely be shaking out of fear.
Swan never felt this exposed. Her magic was what made her special. Without it she felt powerless. They must have given me some kind of potion, she thought. I don't think I was supposed to have woken up so soon. That either meant that what had occurred in her dream had woken her up forcefully, or that the potion was wearing off. Either could be true, but whether it was or was not was irrelevant as there wasn't anything that she could do about it. She wanted to writhe on the ground, willing her limp limbs out of numbness, but the only successes she had were in her facial muscles.
I have to be quiet, I have to be quiet, she repeated to herself. If I pretend to be asleep long enough I can break out of this cage when my arms and legs wake up. She wanted to believe that would work, but she knew that was unlikely to happen. Whomever had captured her would likely re-administer the concoction soon and she would be unconscious and powerless once again. The fighting seemed closer now. She could hear the sounds more clearly. What was going on here?
With that last thought, Swan heard a man scream and something crashed down onto the floor next to her. The room was silent. Swan felt something warm pool around her hand through the numbness. She bit down on her lower lip as tears formed in her eyes. She tried not to think about it.