The Elder Scrolls: Escape ~ Chapter 1.2 - The Last Straw

The woman that walked into the room wore an elegant dress like a smoky mist. The breast hand stitched with pain staking detail of ivy and nightshade. A veil clouded the woman’s face, obscuring any features that he might have gleaned. She closed the door behind her.

Gods forbid that she let anyone hear her with a Khajiit slave, he thought to himself. But none the less he gave a bow and addressed her in the most formal of tones. “I consider it a great honor for you to have called on me,” he said in an almost mechanical voice.

“Do you?” the noble woman inquired. She clasped her hands behind her back as she began to circle him, casting a scrutinizing gaze over him as she did so.

Do’amha glanced to her hands as she passed out of his sight. Ashen skin and neatly trimmed nails deftly clasped behind her back. A Dunmer? he thought with surprise. Even with a glance he could see that there was something not right with them. But she had made her payment to his master, and he was bound to honor the arrangement that he was forced into.

“You do not speak like the others of your kind. Why is that?”

Do’amha grit his teeth at the remark. “I was told that it was not civilized to speak in such a manner. So after much…education, I speak like a real person.”

“Do you know why you have been brought here?”

“Such things are usually because my master has been paid for my company.”

“Do you think that is right?”

“I am honored to serve such a fine woman as yourself.”

“I can tell that that lacked sincerity. You likely despise Elves for what they have done to you. What is it that you really think?” she suddenly asked, reappearing on his opposite side.

“I think that you are not truly a member of the upper class.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Those of the upper class do not have callouses from lack of doing their own work.”

The woman paused directly in front of him. Even through the veil he could see the twitch of her lips. She was smiling. Her hands moved up to her veil and began to unlace it.

“You have a keen eye, Khajiit,” she responded.

When the veil was removed, he got the first glimpse of the woman. Smooth features and high cheek bones, like those all elves have, all the color of ash. A thin nose flanked on either side with bright amethyst eyes.

Amethyst eyes? He thought. His eyes widened in shock as he recognized those eyes. “It is y…”

He was immediately silenced with a quick movement of her hand over his mouth. She brought her other hand up and held a single finger to her thin lips, which were currently pulled up into a coy smirk.

Do’amha let a growl that rumbled in his throat, but nodded in understanding. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his mouth to speak in a more hushed tone.

“What are you doing here? Was last night some sort of test?”

“No. Last night was not a test. It is by Nocturnal’s grace that I happened upon you and you awoke at just that moment.”

Nocturnal? That is a new one, Do’amha thought to himself.

“My name is Karliah. What is yours?”

“I am called slave.”

“And what do the other slaves call you?”

“Do’amha.” These questions were beginning to get on his nerves. Why does she want to know so much? What is her game? His instincts were telling him not to trust this Dunmer, but her eyes seemed to call him to trust her anyways. “What do you want?”

“I want to repay your helping me last night.”

“You want to repay me by buying me for your personal pleasure?”

“What if I told you that I have a means of getting you out of here?”

“I would say that this is either a trap or you are insane. Master Omeloren would never allow me to be free. He would hunt me down like a dog and kill me, or worse put me in The Box until the day I beg for death.”

“And if there were a place that you could go that he could never reach you?”

Do’amha hesitated for a moment. If there were such a place, a chance to finally be free of this hell, shouldn’t he take it? But what would happen to Vajrasha? No. I can’t. I cannot believe her.

“Such a place does not exist,” Do’amha said with a sigh, “I couldn’t. The power of the Dominion stretches everywhere. There is no place that he cannot reach. No place that a slave like me can ever make a start.”

“Slavery is illegal in the Empire, of which the Dominion is a part of,” she said. “But if you can get to Skyrim, the land of the Nords, the Dominion will not be able to follow you. They have pushed the Dominion’s influence from their lands and refuse to give them any ground.”

Do’amha didn’t want to give in. Karliah was holding hope in front of him like a tantalizing meal, but he couldn’t take it. If he allowed himself to hope, then he would be broken when it was revealed to be nothing more than a thin pane of glass, easily shattered.

“I cannot. Master Omeloren has a great deal of influence. I would never make it outside of High Elf lands.”

Karliah’s eyes softened. It was clear that Do’amha had been put through a great deal of pain to make him believe that leaving this place would be anything but painful for him.

“I understand. Shadows preserve you,” she said as she rustled her dark hair and undid a few stays on her dress. She moved forward and carefully ruffled some of his fur and undid a few ties to make it look like he had been used for the purpose that she had paid for. Karliah left with a final amethyst glance over her shoulder, much like she had done the night before. Do’amha sighed as he turned and pulled the silk sheets from the bed, making them look tousled as if they had been used.

Placed in irons once again, he was led down the halls to the fighter pits again. The entire time, though he tried his best to ignore it, he kept thinking about what Karliah had said. There was a place where the Dominion had no hold. The Empire did not allow slaves and yet here he was. The privileged are above the law it seems.

Thrown into his cage he pulled the clean shirt off and tossed it to the side. There was no use for it in the arena, it would likely get him killed. The thought of freedom still burning in his mind as he sat in the corner, trying to get his head ready for the fight he was going to have.

“Is Do’amha alright?” Vajrasha asked. She could see that he was deep in thought about something. Brooding over whatever had happened while he was away.

“I am not harmed,” he responded. “Just another upper class lady seeking pleasurable company.” That is what everyone on the outside of that room knew and that was what he was going to let them believe. Why would a Dunmer risk coming back here just for that? He couldn’t figure it out. Survival was about avoiding danger, not throwing yourself into it.

Of course, that was a complete contradiction to what his life had been for the last five years. Already, he could hear the sounds of people filling the stands. Everyone excited and ready to watch his fight with the latest opponent.

“Slave!” a guard said striking the bars. “Time for you to earn your keep.”

The cage door was opened once again and Do’amha headed out. Passing iron cages, holding other slaves for the arena, he made the short walk to the Arena entrance.Sand caked the walk way mixed with blood and sweat from far too many slaves.

From the whisperings, he gathered that this was going to be a very difficult fight. Probably fighting an Orc, he thought.They are a hardy folk and they love to fight. Orcs were not as common of slaves as the beast-folk, as he heard the knife-ears refer to him as, but they were not unheard of either.

He idly remembered facing off against an Orc a few years back. That Orc’s hide was thick and it nearly killed him getting the strangle hold that he needed to finish him.He thought he might actually die during that fight.

Walking into the arena he was greeted with a wave of cheers and applause as the announcer gave some long winded speech of him being undefeated in however many matches.Hundreds of individuals, many Altmer and Dunmer, surrounded the ring of seats that looked down on him from their lofty position around the sunken circle of the arena.Some were cheering for him while others were screaming for his death.It was easy to tell who had wagered coin were if it were for the chaotic mess of voices that surrounded him.

Across the way was a portioned section where his master sat with his newest personal slave. He always managed to have a new one kneeling beside his throne-like chair every few weeks.“Gods, how I hate that man,” he growled to himself.

As the arena gate closed behind him, he was confused by what was sitting in the middle of the open space. Jutting out from the sands was the handle of an iron dagger. Do’amha had never been given a weapon before and the sudden change was enough to make him wary of whom he was going against.

The gate across from him slowly began to open and a terrible roar rolled out of the shadows within. A huge beast, at least a full head taller than him, came charging out on all fours before slamming its massive arms on the ground and giving our a bellowing roar. Thick hair covered every inch of the beast’s body and its three eyes were staring at Do’amha with a hungry gaze.

Do’amha was in completely shock. For the first time in years he actually felt fear clutching at his chest as he stared down the brute. “It is a damn troll,” he whispered. He looked to where Omeloren was seated and was met with a smug expression. This is it.He’s going to kill you, a voice in the back of his mind commented.

With a growl he peeled his lips back in a vicious snarl, “Not without a fight he isn’t,” Do’amha hissed.Turning back to the beast, Do’amha sprinted for the dagger. That piece of dull iron was his only chance of survival.