Key
Italic writing = Third person not in the book
Normal writing = Dareio's perspective written in the book
CAPITAL LETTERS = "Anonymous Dunmer's" perspective written in the book
Shorter chapter, but I hope you like it!
Chapter Four
It didn't take us very long to get prepared, since the Dunmer seemed very well-practiced in this area. We got ourselves the essentials first: food, flasks of water, some bandages and other medical supplies, a few health potions, what money we could find around the storerooms (though this didn't really amount to much). He was very firm about only packing what we needed, but, being the alchemist and rule-bender I was, I managed to sneak in a mortar and pestle from their stores, as well as some empty phials and ingredients for potions and poisons. I had to change from my uniform into some form of commoner's clothing, which I actually didn't end up minding too much because it was more comfortable than uniform, and had a lot of pockets to keep things in, however less attractive it made me look.
The sleeping arrangements for that night were quite interesting, considering we had to get ourselves comfortable in the crate we'd sneaked onto the boat in, lest we get ourselves caught by the shipmates while we were sleeping. It consisted of a strange game of "Elf Building Blocks", as well as a discovery that muscle weighed a lot more than I originally thought. ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT? No, of course I am not calling you fat! I simply found you considerably heavier than I first estim- THAT WAS A JOKE; I LITERALLY DO NOT GIVE A SHIT. You made me think there was a reason to be sorry when there wasn't and, for that, you are a bastard.
I actually slept considerably well, when bearing in mind that we were on a ship, inside a crate, sharing this crate with a Dunmeri assassin that had killed my boss recently. Though, when I woke, I had two things to deal with that were less than positive. Firstly, the hangover headache, which pounded heavily in my head and made me reluctant to wake up, but at the same time reluctant to stay still due to wanting to find a way to cure it. The second point was discovered once I was able to pull my consciousness into reality, and was more out of slight fear than irritation, as I realised that the Dunmer had woken up and gotten out of the crate without waking me. I figured that, if he could manage to do that without stirring me from slumber, than he could get away with anything while I was asleep. I didn't want to question how much I could trust him, but, well, that's exactly what I did. He'd helped me escape a fate of war for no obvious immediate gain to himself, yet he was still an assassin who had, technically, a history of killing Thalmor. He was right when he said that we wouldn't have gotten out of the isles without each other, but I had already planned what I could do to escape the war from here without him, and if this was a matter of survival…
I stopped the thought there, made nervous by my thoughts of potential disloyalty, and rubbed my eyes. When I brought my hands away, I saw black smudges smeared up the length of my fingers, which immediately made me huff; I rarely left my eyeliner on overnight, but whenever I did, it was always a pain. Reaching into my bag, I took out a flask of water and wetted my sleeve, putting the flask back before scrubbing my over and around eyelids. You might find this slightly feminine of me, but I always carry a small pot of oil-kohl and a small brush to apply it with, which was one of the few things I had with me when I escaped Alinor, thus I was able to redraw the lines around my eyes. Even with the boat rocking, I was well-trained in the art of applying eyeliner, swiftly drawing the lines in place with accuracy.
"That's quite a boast you got there, Dareio," the Dunmer pointed out the last paragraph, feigning an impressed tone, "you're an expert make-up applier. I can almost hear the reader hyperventilating as they try to overcome just how awesome you are."
"You're just jealous," Dareio replied, before continuing writing.
Though, I wasn't quick enough, it seemed, to do it before the assassin noticed. "Oi, missus," he accosted me in the polite manner he always held FUCK OFF point made, "I found something for that piece of shrapnel you call a knife." Chucking something towards me, I heard a light slap of leather against the deck just as I finished lining my eyes, glancing over to what caused it. It was a sheath, small enough for the kitchen knife I'd picked up the last evening. I packed away my make-up and picked up sheath that was attached to a thin belt, turning it over in my hand. As I did, the Dunmer continued, "Is that thing seriously standard-issue in the Thalmor?"
I immediately burst out laughing, the quickly dissolved into a groan as my head pounded from the suddenness of it, prompting me to press my fingers into my temples and let small wisps of healing magic roll from my fingertips and into my head. "No, it's not standard-issue; it's a kitchen knife I picked up just after you assassinated Major-General Telgamin."
"Oh. Huh."
I clambered out of the box, my headache calming a bit due to the application of healing magic, before putting the belt on, adjusting it so the sheath lay flat against my hip, and sheathing my knife into the holder. "Thank you," I spoke a bit quieter due to my head, but tried to put enough tone into it so I didn't sound sarcastic. He didn't reply, instead chucking an apple in my direction, which hit me in the chest before landing in my open hands. I was starting to gather that, being an assassin that killed targets with throwing knives, he liked throwing things. Regardless, I was starving, so I gladly took the apple and started to eat it. As I indulged in this small breakfast, he went off to scout the area for potential escape routes, so I was left alone. Aside from his return about quarter of an hour later, there really wasn't much to that day, or in fact the few days we spent on the boat. We indulged in a bit of small-talk (the only type of talk I thought the Dunmer was capable of at the time), and he even managed to swipe a deck of cards from one of the crewmembers to play a few games with, but apart from that, it was just hiding and waiting for us to hit the docks.
But something always has to go wrong.
It was bad enough with just the storm, which arrived explosively halfway through what felt like our billionth game of Go Fish (yes, I managed to convince a full-blown assassin to play Go Fish, one point to Dareio). The ship swayed dramatically from side to side, a rough wind cutting through the front-most hatch up to the top deck and creating a loud, piercing whistle that was occasionally cut off by the crash of waves against the sides of the vessel. The Dunmer had just about stashed the cards away when we suddenly heard the shouting of orders overhead, their voices strained with professional tension over the howl of the gale and the lashings of heavy rain against the deck. To be safe, we bundled back into the box and closed the lid.
"What the fuck is going on up there?" The assassin grumbled, half-whispering.
"Hush up a second and I might be able to tell," I mumbled back to him, tilting my head so that my ear was pressed against the top of the box in an attempt to decipher the words in the shouting. I wasn't able to listen for too long though, as the boat was suddenly jolted to the side, throwing us both against the side of the crate as the soul gem that was supplying the magelight was knocked out of its holder, plunging the whole deck into darkness.
The Dunmer grunted from being thrown to one side, before growling: "Let's get out of this thing before we break our necks." He then kicked the lid off, grabbed my forearm, and jumped out of the box, pulling me out behind him.
As someone who favoured hiding to running, I protested with a squeak. "Where are we going t-?" But, before I could finish, the boat was violently knocked again, throwing us to the same side as before; if it hadn't been for my wrist being held, I would have surely toppled backwards into the box. We gained full balance quickly, and I was just about to ask a question, though I found my words halted as I noticed water snaking across the deck, only able to be seen crawling towards us by the reflections of the lighting strikes outside across the water's surface. With a glance up, I traced the water to its source: a hole blown into the side of the ship, with seawater now pulsing through it like blood out of an open wound.
"Shit!" The other elf choked out, immediately pulling me away from staring at the water and making a dash in the opposite direction, down the deck to a ladder that lead up to the top deck. Before we could get to it though, a Thalmor agent jumped down from the hatch landing in front of the ladder. My military training prompted magicka to surge to my hands, but I was not quick enough, for the assassin did not hesitate to swipe his tanto across the agent's neck, sending the Altmer tumbling to the ground. Fear locked my brain from doing anything other than stare at the body, soul extinguished in a fraction of time. Following the blood that trailed down the deck from the fallen scout, the last sight I remember seeing before I was tugged up the ladder was the meeting of the ocean and the blood, the darkly coloured liquid clouding into the sea into smoke-like swirls, before being dragged back into the main body of the chilling water.
As soon as we got on deck, the rain lashed down onto us, mixed with the saltwater from the ferocious waves, making my eyes sting a bit. With the deck being as slippery as it was, the two of us only made it so far before we found ourselves clinging to the bottom of some rigging to keep our balance. Looking about quickly, I could agents lining the opposite side of the ship, flinging blurs of mage-fire across the ocean in an attempt to hit the enemy, which I soon made out as an Imperial Legion defence ship. As a scout ship, the sloop we were boarded on was quick and small, but it wasn't enough to hold out against a defence ship, especially considering that the defence ship had cannons and the scout ship did not.
This was soon made obvious to me by a cannonball whizzing into the mast, hurtling through it with a splintering crash, and sending it toppling towards us with an almighty creak. We dived out of the way in time to miss it, helpless against the destruction it caused as the weight of the mast pulled it straight through the top deck. With instinct amalgamating with adrenaline, we scrambled to our feet and dashed away from the collapsing decking, struggling to stay on our feet as the mast's weight continued to drag the boat to the side. I was so blinded with panic that I didn't even notice the Dunmer slice his way through two more soldiers who attempted to intercept us, my vision spinning as I was overwhelmed by the action. I had never been in an actual combat situation until this day, so being struck with one on a boat in the middle of the ocean, in a storm, at night, thrust upon us in a matter of minutes, and being on the losing side, was too devastating for what little courage I had already to take.
Waves began to throw themselves over the barriers of the top deck as the ocean began to devour the sinking ship. As my mind closed up on me like watery jaws that threatened to eat up the ground I stood on, absolute fear feasted on my insides, twisting knots in my stomach and shortening my breath as it squeezed my ribs tightly. It must have been a mix of terror, the darkness of the night, and salt in my eyes that blurred my vision as much as it did, but it made me unable to locate the assassin, which only made the fissure in my hope grow into a consuming abyss. Then, a thread of light shot through the black abyss as I heard a voice over the storm: "DAREIO!"
I span towards the voice, struck still and dumb by the sudden surge of faith that I could possibly get out of this. But my inability to break my frozen state caused the luminescent strand to slip my fingers, as the ship was hit by multiple cannon blasts, throwing me off of the deck and sending me toppling backwards, over the barrier and into the sea. As I felt the wind against my back, my mind shot to the image of the blood dissolving into the ocean, a life extinguished and made insignificant in a moment. There was a sudden burst of icy cold enveloping my body, and then it all went black.