Chapter 13
The young Thalmor soldier ran.
An arrow whistled past him, barely missing his ear by an inch. He was leaving a trail of blood that his pursuers picked up easily. The path was easy to follow, but the speed of the Altmer was not.
The soldier had no time to cry – There was no time for sympathy. War was about survival. He had learnt that when he reacted at the last minute when he was about to be executed. They had shot an artery however, and he was either going to die in their hands or bleed out.
He swallowed the pain, and carried on. The landscape was unusual to him, and he needed shelter – fast. His eyes, frantically scanning the area, he spotted a small shack near a waterfall.
It seemed empty at a glance, and he decided to take his chances. With one hand gripping his wound, and the other holding a fireball, he slammed the door open and collapsed on the sheets of the bed immediately.
He was tired. Too tired to realize that there was a hidden trapdoor next to the bed. Too tired to see it opening, and too tired to react to the stranger grabbing him by his legs and dragging him down.
To be continued
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