Chapter 11

Water was falling from the sky. Not raining, falling, as though thousands of buckets were being emptied in the clouds. Beras stood, or more accurately, floated in mid air. He was drenched, hair and clothes clinging to his body. His eyes opened slowly, and he held out his hand, watching the water run through his fingers.

Suddenly, drops of red were falling with the water. More and more of them contaminated the crystal liquid until blood poured from the heavens. Looking around hysterically, Beras watched the reflections of his friends' deaths in the crimson cascades...

His eyes opened wide, now very much awake. It was cold, and he was in a stone room with bars on the door. A prison cell. In a panic, he tried to stand, but found he was chained to the wall by his wrists, wearing nothing but a loincloth. All his belongings had been taken.

Judging by the small amount of stubble that had formed on the lower parts of his face, he had been in the cell for at least a few days, but no more than a week. But why was he there? Where was he? And why did his head hurt so much?

Then it all hit him like a warhammer. Malia, Bruda, Gylas, Behrta, Anthir, and all the others, dead. Killed before his very eyes. The horror of it all was too much to bear. Despite himself, tears formed in his eyes and he let out a choked sound of anguish and pain.

Something moved outside the cell, and a voice shouted, "It's awake!" Judging by the accent, the speaker had come from the Summerset Isles. A few moments later Beras heard the click of a lock and the door swung opened. Two elves, a man and a woman, wearing black and gold robes stood in the doorway. Thalmor.

Beras tensed up in fear, pressing himself further against the wall in a desperate attempt to protect himself. He looked away, tears still streaming from the corners of his eyes. Why wouldn't they just go away? They had taken enough from him already. He would rather have died than be used by the Aldmeri Dominion.

"So," sneered the woman. "Your people truly believe that they can waltz into elven territory without their human stink being noticed?" She stood there, gloating over him, pleased by how much he was at her mercy. "How many of you were there?"

Beras didn't answer, still desperately trying to swallow his tears. In a moment he felt her boot under his chin. With it, she pressed his head back against the wall so she could look at him.

"If I were you," she said in a threatening tone. "I would answer my questions." She held out her hand, tiny bolts of lightning bouncing around her palm.

Beras tried to speak, but his voice got caught in his throat. In a moment, he was spasming madly, crying out in pain as he was blasted by shock magic. Just as quickly, it ended, leaving him breathing heavily and twitching slightly from the magic.

"Are you ready to answer?" the elf said, preparing another burst of lightning.

Beras looked up at her, one eye half closed. "Fifteen," he muttered. Another choked sound left his mouth at realizing how easily he was giving in to the enemy.

The woman looked at him, scrutinizing his face with a look of disgust. "I think you're lying," she whispered. "I guess magic isn't going to scare it out of you, so let's try mutilation." She drew a curved dagger out of her pocket and twirled it around in her hand.

Beras couldn't believe it. He had been honest with her. "Wait!" he yelped. "I'm telling the truth!" He could feel the sharp point of the blade pressing down on the top of his shoulder.

The elf smiled maliciously. "Well, why don't we find out, shall we?"

The knife was like fire running down the length of his arm, carving a thin line from the tip of his shoulder blade to the back of his wrist. Beras shouted out, crying and screaming for it to stop. Why did he ever leave the temple? Why did they ever go on that stupid mission? Why didn't he just die with the others?

"Inyen," the Thalmor male said quietly. "Don't you think you're going a bit far? We do need him to be alive you know."

Inyen, the elvish woman stopped, knife still digging into Beras' flesh, the latter sobbing in agony. "You dare interrupt, Lathinar? Don't bother me, I'm enjoying this. It's about time I taught one of these filthy Imperials what I think of their worthlessness." She turned back to Beras, eyeing him like a piece of meat. "Not to mention," she said more quietly. "I've been trained in restoration magic. I can heal up whatever damage I cause."

Beras looked up at her, his golden brown eyes locking with her bright green, pleading for mercy. He received none.

He didn't know how long it was before she stopped. It felt like hours, but it could just as well have been minutes. All he knew was that his arms were horribly wounded, blood dripping off his fingertips and running down his skin. As Inyen stepped away from him, he was left hunched on the ground, head in his knees, reduced to a miserable wreck.

"Lathinar," she called. "I'll need you to clean up its blood. We wouldn't want human filth defiling our blessed elven property." Without another word, she sauntered out of the room.

Lathinar sighed, clearly annoyed. "Lathinar do this, Lathinar do that," he mocked, rolling his eyes. "Why am I always the one who has to take care of the prisoners?" He walked away, shutting the prison door and locking it behind him.

Beras looked down at the red that was seeping into the cracks in the stone floor and felt light to the head. That was his own blood. Bracing himself for the worst, he turned his head to look at the wounds on his arms.

Horrible red gashes were carved all the way up his arm, exposing the muscle beneath. Blood still dribbled out of them, and he knew if he didn't receive attention soon, he would die. It was probably for the best though. Better to die now than to suffer any more of this.

Suddenly, Beras heard a strange clicking sound at the door, then the sound of a lock opening. The door swung open and a third elf, also dressed in black and gold robes, entered. She had jet black hair, yellow eyes, and pointed cheekbones that made her face light up in strange places. Beras saw her slip what looked like a set of lockpicks into her pocket.

She walked over to him, and her palms began to glow with a golden light. She hovered her hands over the cuts running along Beras' arms, and instantly they began to heal, a soothing and warm feeling flushing through his body.

Then she leaned in close, so her mouth was less than an inch from his ear and whispered, "Just hang on for a few more days." Then she left, shutting the door behind her. She had been so quiet that he could hardly tell if she had actually spoken.

But what had she meant? Wasn't she just healing him up for more torture? Beras groaned. He was confused, tired, thirsty and hungry, and just wanted to go home. Things weren't supposed to be this way.

Would the people back home at the temple even hear of the tragedy that struck on the mission? Maybe some Thalmor agents had gone to them and shown them Aereth's head, like they did with Tennsa. If so, they probably believed him to be dead too. And Annel would think that he had…

He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think about that. He needed to figure out what that woman had meant. Hang on just a few more days. It sounded like they might release him, but that was too good to be true. More likely she meant, 'In a few days we'll execute you, so you're only going to be tortured until then.'

But why had she had lockpicks? She surely had a key to the cell. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. He had lost a lot of blood, and his brain might not have had enough oxygen to be able to function properly. Or he misinterpreted what he saw. For all he knew it was actually a spellbook, or something to remind herself how to heal people. Beras bit his lip in confusion, wondering what in the name of Talos was going on.

The door burst opened again and Inyen, the woman who tortured him, stepped in, looking furious. "That careless miserable wretch!" she spat. "I should have him demoted for leaving the cell unlocked!"

It was then that Beras noticed what she was holding. Wicked looking torturing tools; hooks, knives, clamps, screws, and more. Just looking at them made him cringe in fear. "No…" he muttered. "Please, I'm begging you." He looked into her cold eyes, more tears forming in his.

Inyen smiled a cold and cruel smile. "Oh," she sighed in ecstasy. "It has been too long since I've had this much fun." Then she selected a jagged knife from her set of tools and slowly approached him.

"Please!" Beras shouted, trying desperately to break free of his bonds. "I'll tell you anything you need to know!"

She laughed genuinely, as though what he said had amused her somehow. "You think this is about information?" she chortled. "There's nothing you could tell me that I would wish to know. No," she said, taking a step closer and preparing to cut him. "This is for my own enjoyment. For sport. To show you miserable humans how you are forever at our mercy." She was now very close, and she crouched to the ground, touching the tip of her knife to Beras' forehead. She smiled again at noticing her victim's loud and fast heartbeat. "And mercy is something you shall never again receive."