This is Our Home: A Collection of Skyrim Short Stories

Rescue: Part One (Etienne Rarnis)

10th of Frostfall, 4E 201

How many days had I spent rotting in this wretched place? How many beatings had the Thalmor given me? How much longer would it take for me to die?

I let my head droop, legs giving out beneath me. Me entire weight rested on my wrists, painfully shackled above my head. I still had blood dripping from the fresh set of wounds those monsters had given me. I barely recognized my own body now, all covered in scars and bruises. My ribs protruded through my pasty-white skin, and the hair across my chest was stained with blood, like the hair on my head. I shuddered to think of what my face must have looked like; if it looked half as bad as it felt....

Now's not the time, Etienne, I told myself, wincing as I tried to get my feet beneath me.

The prison's door swung open on its creaky hinges, and I froze in place. Those monsters were already back. Rulindil and his lapdog Eralain. They had returned for more information, even though I had already told them all I knew. Why would they come back so soon?

I looked up as they opened my cell's door. Eralain stepped in first, prodding me with a long, sharp stick while Rulindil came in after him. I winced as he drove the point into my shoulder, dangerously close to breaking the skin.

"Ready to talk again, cur?" asked Eralain, taking the stick away just before it drew blood.

I let my head fall, and my legs nearly gave out beneath me. "Stop. Please. I don't know anything else. Don't you think I'd have told you already?"

In response, Eralain backhanded me across the face. I had gotten so used to this form of abuse, I almost didn't feel pain. Almost. "Silence. You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions."

My gaze flickered to Rulindil, and I cowered under his cold stare. He snorted once and crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's begin again."

I could not help the shudders that ran through my body. Oh, gods, please. Anything but this again. "No... for pity's sake.... I've already told you everything—"

Growling, Eralain lunged forward and slammed his fist in my jaw. "You know the rules."

That first punch was only the tip of the iceberg. He hit me, again and again. He created new bruises and deepened old ones. He opened up past wounds; blood coated his hands and my body with every strike. I yelped and moaned at each blow, trying and failing to keep quiet.

After watching the brutality for several minutes, Rulindil stepped up and waved his hand. Eralain stopped and stood back, shaking his bloody hands out. "Start at the beginning, as usual," said the Master Thalmor. "If you persist in this stubbornness, I'll have—"

My head shot up. "No, wait! I was just... catching my breath.... Why wouldn't I tell you again? I don't even know anything...." I sighed, breath rattling in my throat. "There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this Esbern you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. That's all I know."

"And his name is...?"

"I don't know his name. Like I've already told you a hundred—"

Before I could finish, Eralain held out his blunt mace and clubbed me in the side. My ribs cracked, and blood instantly sprayed from the wound. I let out my loudest scream yet.

Rulindil had been standing close enough to me that my blood spattered on his robes when Eralain hit me. His nose curled as he casually wiped it away. "You know the rules. Just answer the questions. Where can we find this nameless old man?"