Mists on the Mountains

Chapter 2: Get Out Alive

Chapter 2

Get Out Alive

"Getting in is the easiest part. Getting out is much harder and getting out in one piece? Sometimes that's more luck than anything else."- An Unofficial Pocketbook for Thieves, written by Marvadine Shadowtalons and published 3E 386

The first thing Hammel heard was Ralof. "I can't see my beard in this darkness." The words, casually spoken, seemed to come from everywhere, the exact origin impossible to discern due to the utter darkness.

"Ralof," Lianna's words carried just the tiniest hint of sarcasm, "You can't see your beard normally."

"True enough." Ralof chuckled. "Could you light a torch? I didn't escape the block just to break my neck fumbling around in the darkness like some drunk."

"Give me a moment, I'm not a god you know." A rustling came from the Altmer's assumed direction as she fumbled along the walls, looking for a torch. A few words were muttered before a blast of fire erupted from her right hand, igniting a nearby sconce. The torch burst to life, chasing the darkness away.

Now that he could see, Hammel looked around. The walls and floor of the entrance chamber were stone, an Imperial flag dominating the left wall and an empty weapon rack the right. A iron gate on the left and a thick oaken door on the right blocked passage deeper into the keep. A table with a few chairs took up the middle of the room. A dead Stormcloak was slumped against the table. His throat had been slashed open, his blood staining the table.

Ralof's eyes fell at the sight of the fallen Stormcloak. "Swift journey to Sovngarde, brother," He said sadly. "You might as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't need it where he's going." The words were soft-spoken and directed towards Hammel.

"Be respectful of him as you do!" Lianna growled, pointing her shovel at Hammel.

"One problem," He responded casually, pointedly ignoring Lianna's threat, "My hands are bound. I can't pick up much of anything."

"Oh right," Ralof said, "Hang on." Looking over the table, Ralof noticed an iron dagger stuck in its surface. The blade was stained with food and coated in rust, clearly more for eating than killing. Snatching the dagger up, Ralof approached Hammel. "This should do the trick. Hold still."

Hammel held his bound hands outward, "I'm a statue." Ralof chuckled but Lianna didn't seem amused. Pressing the rusted blade against Hammel's bonds the Stormcloak began sawing. It took a moment but the ropes finally snapped with a loud twang.

Throwing off the remaining rope, Hammel rubbed his chafed wrists. "Thanks," he said, feeling the blood flow to his hands again. Bending over Gunjar's corpse, he pulled off the supple fur boots.

"Don't mention it," Ralof answered warmly. "Now, Lianna and I are going to try those doors, you get that armor on."

Hammel almost groaned from pleasure as his feet snuggled into the soft rabbit-hide. He'd get his feet cleaned and bandaged later but for now the boots were a vast improvement. He'd rather escape the keep alive but a little sore than die in comfort.

Removing Gunjar's fur gauntlets, Hammel put them on his own hands. He was reaching for the chainmail shirt when he heard the voices.

"I don't give a damn what you think! There's a mythical beast rampaging through my town at the same time we've got a full blown prison break on our hands! We can't afford to play nice. You see a prisoner, you put it down, understand?" Even though he couldn't see the speaker, Hammel knew she was the same captain who'd ordered his death.