Chapter 9:
Beras stared blankly at the wall of the room he was staying in, head tilted slightly to one side. He was trying to block out the drone of Gylas's endless chatter. Typical of the captain to keep everything routine by giving them the same roommates.
"And I just couldn't get over it! I mean, I've never seen one so large!" Gylas had been telling the same story about how he killed his first mudcrab for two hours. Each time, it became more and more fantastic, all the while becoming less and less believable.
"You know," Behrta said. "At two o'clock, one hour from now, we're going to be watching the entrance to the prison." He gave Gylas an accusing look. "Don't you think we should be preparing?"
Upon arriving at the inn, Aereth had revealed to them all the purpose of the mission. Three member of Tennsa's squad that had tried to secure the daedric weapons had been captured for questioning and taken to Riverhold. They were being held in the prison, and it was their task to break them out.
Beras, Behrta, and Gylas, being far less experienced than the others, would be posted as lookouts. Beras's partners were several years younger than him, each in their late teens, and had only been members of the Blades for half a year or so.
Annoyed at being told to stop talking, Gylas stuck his tongue out at Behrta. "What do we need to prepare for anyway? All we're doing is sitting outside, and if we see anything we shout to the others. We barely have a role. We'll just wing it!" We walked behind Beras and slapped his hands down on his shoulders, massaging his neck. It was as if he had some sort of compulsive need to touch people. "Right, buddy?"
Beras's ears had turned red again, and he mumbled something about not really being of much use either way. Gylas laughed, slapped him on the back, and jumped down on the bed.
The three of them remained in their room, Gylas endlessly talking and moving, Behrta repeatedly checking to see if he understood the plan, and Beras fidgeting awkwardly in the corner. An hour later, right on schedule, they were called out to begin the operation.
The night air was surprisingly cool, and caught Beras off guard after growing accustomed to the heat of the day. It felt nice, and tasted fresh. He and his two companions headed over to the prison, and, in accordance with the plan, leaned up against the outer wall. They each took out an empty skooma bottle. Anyone who saw them there would assume they had just gone somewhere remote to take the drug.
Ten minutes passed, the three of them standing there in silence. Beras couldn't help but smiling slightly. Things were actually seeming to run smoothly.
How wrong he was.
Mere seconds after the thought entered his mind, he began to hear shouting coming from the prison. Panic flushed up his body, tensing him up and prickling every nerve. His eyes flew wide open and made contact with Behrta's.
"It's fine," he said, giving Beras a weak smile. "Probably nothing." Then the door to the prison exploded, rubble and fire flying out like a jet.
"Run!" a woman's voice screamed as five or six of the Blades sprinted out.
Adrenaline pumping through his body, Beras bolted after them, Gylas and Behrta slightly ahead of him. "What happened!?" Behrta shouted.
"They figured us out!" Malia shouted back. "They knew we were coming! They somehow knew!"
"Where are the others!?" Gylas had a look of seriousness and fear that Beras never would have thought possible displayed across his face. "Your sister, Aereth, where are they!?"
Malia shook her head. "Dead. But we don't have the time to mourn them we have to ru-!"
She suddenly disappeared, falling behind the sprinting group in less than a second. Turning around, Beras saw her lying face down in the street with an arrow sticking out of her back. A pool of crimson blood was forming around her.
Beras's eyes flew open in horror, a quiet noise escaping his lips that sounded like a scream, only move wavery and pain-filled. He stopped moving, paralyzed by fear and anguish, and fell to the ground. This wasn't happening. He had to be dreaming.
He felt himself being pulled to his feet by someone, and saw that person shouting at him to do something. Beras's mind wasn't able to comprehend who he was seeing, or what they were shouting. He had just gone numb.
Half aware of what was going on, he didn't even react as he was swung over the person's shoulder. Everything sounded muffled, everything looked blurry. Nothing made sense. Why were people falling over around him? Why weren't they getting up?
"Beras!" a voice that sounded miles away shouted. "I need you to be able to run! I can't carry you!"
Beras turned his head slowly. The speaker looked familiar. Oh, he thought. It's Gylas. Why is he so scared? Then reality hit him like a warhammer. They were all dying. Many of his friends were already dead. If he didn't move, he would die too.
In an instant, he was up, fully aware of his surroundings. The air felt crisp and tasted oddly metallic as he and seven others burst out of the city gates. Only seven. That meant half of Beras's companions had been captured, or more likely, killed. Tears streamed down his face upon coming to this conclusion.
Bruda lead the way, screaming back at the others. She was hiding her pain in order to take the lead, but Beras could see the profound sadness in her eyes that came from her sister's death. The two had never really got along, but that did not deny the fact that they were of the same blood.
"Just keep on going!" she shouted. "We can outrun them if we can just make it to-" Suddenly, she was glowing as blue lightning danced across her skin, her mouth open in a silent scream. She fell to her knees gasping for breath.
All the other Blades skidded to a stop, turning to look at her. Most of them had the daggers that they had hidden in their sleeves at hand.
Bruda coughed, a sickening, gut wrenching sound. She looked up at them, for once showing some form of emotion. Pain, sadness, and desperation. "What are you doing!?" she moaned. "Run, or they'll kill you all too." A second bolt of lightning silenced her and sent her twitching, but unmistakably dead body into the dirt.
It was then that all hell broke loose. Gylas screamed in fury and rushed at their Thalmor pursuers, brandishing two daggers, the divines only knowing where he found the second one. An elven sword flashed gold in the moonlight, and his head went spinning off his neck, crashing into Beras's chest.
Beras fell to the ground, shaking like a leaf and looking down at the bloodstains on his robes. That blood had run in the veins of someone whom he had been talking too minutes ago, someone who had been very much alive. Now it ran freely, turning the ground into thick, strong smelling mud.
He could hear his heart pumping, feel smashing into his ribcage like a battering ram. How many beats did it have left? Twenty? Ten? What was dying like? Would it be quick or painful? He wondered whether he would rather have his head cut off or be killed by magic. Tears ran down his face as he realised he would never be able to keep his promise to Annel.
Don't die. It was a simple request, yet here he was failing to meet it. He leaned backwards, lying in the blood and filth. Divines help my soul, he thought as he shut his eyes, bracing for death.
"That's the last of them," an elven voice said after a few minutes passed. "What a bother. Did they have to attack tonight? I was supposed to be sent home tomorrow, but now I'll have to fill out reports on this whole fiasco."
"Never mind that," a second voice replied. "Lets burn these bodies before the rats get at them." Beras heard the crackling of flames and decided that he honestly would have prefered death by decapitation.
"Wait!" shouted the first elf. "I think I saw one move!" There was a strange noise and a flash of purple light. "Yes, right over there! It's alive, I just used a detect life spell!"
The second one laughed. "What a stroke of luck! We needed to replace our old prisoners anyway. A hand grabbed onto Beras's throat and lifted him slightly. "Lights out for you," the elf said.
Beras felt the pommel of a sword thwack his skull and saw no more.