But I'm a Black-Briar! (A Skyrim Fan Fiction)

Chapter 41: Solitude

Shouts carried faintly across the water, accompanied by a continuous loud banging.

I didn't bother to look in the direction of the door, knowing I wouldn't be able to see it through the darkness. "Jiran?" A dozen aches and cuts announced themselves with a fanfare of head-ringing trumpets as I dragged myself to my feet.

"We... we have to get out of here." Jiran's voice grated like the tilting stones under my feet as I stepped toward him. "We'll have to swim under the ship doors. The guards will blame us for everything that happened here."

"I—" A wave of dizziness filled my throat with nausea. "Okay."

Two quick steps brought Jiran to my side. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm not sure. I have a few cuts from Sinmvur, and my hand hurts. A lot. But I feel dizzy."

Jiran's hands felt me over quickly, checking the holes in my clothes. He cursed when he touched my shoulder. "That's not exactly a scratch, Mere."

I looked down, saw a large bloody rip in my riding habit, and swallowed more nausea. "I don't know how that—oh. Something hit my shoulder in the water, but I thought it was a fish." So cold, Divines. I've never been this cold. I can't even feel any of these cuts.

"You have to swim, Mere. I can't help you with that. It's the only way out of here, and if we don't go now the guards will see us and send boats to find us in the water."

"I know. I know. I can do it." I squared my shoulders and clenched my chattering teeth. "Let's go." I stepped into water, plotting the best path through the burning oil slicks.

"We're going to have to swim across the river. There's a bridge over this warehouse and nowhere to hide on the shore across from the docks, we'd be spotted right away."

"Okay." I hated this. I hated that Jiran and I might have survived Sinmvur's twisted games only to drown or get shot in the back by watchful guards.

"Go ahead. I'll—I'll be right behind you."

Images of Jiran firing his bow at the guards in a foolish last stand of misplaced heroism flashed through my mind. I opened my mouth to argue, but I bit back my words and turned away when Jiran crouched beside Sinmvur.

He's killed three fathers now.

I took a series of breaths, each deeper than the last, psyching myself for the swim before I dove into the water.

Swim. Cold water. Breathe. Swim. Cold water. Breathe. Thick, algae-slimed wood. Dive. More wood. Dive deeper. More wood. Dive deeper. No wood. Swim. Resurface. Gasp quietly. Swim. Fight the current. Swim. Swim. Swim.

Ice?

Maneuvering the ice at the edges of the shore took more out of me than the grueling swim. Every time I tried to lift myself out of the water and scoot my stomach along the ice like a horker, it broke under my weight and sent me back into the river. By the time mud squelched under my fingertips, I had no strength left. The water that flowed gently around my knees and calves felt warm now.

Jiran's voice, loud and insistent, woke me from my stupor only fractionally. Good, he made it, I thought sleepily before letting everything fade away.

***

When I woke up, nothing made sense. A fire crackled, but there should only be water. Warmth encompassed me, but lingering memories of terrible cold made my limbs shiver. A roof loomed over my head, but my eyes had closed on starry skies.

Sweat broke out on my face. Sinmvur, the river, everything rushed back, and I jolted upright.

"Ouch." My hoarse, weak voice scraped at my raw throat. So many parts of my body had protested by sudden movement that I couldn't tell what hurt the most.