Kris fell into a doze, for the first time in many years her dreams were empty of the events on the battlefield at Colovia. Purged away as she had hoped by the death of her long time quarry. She hoped that all the legionnaires who had died there would rest a little easier.

She woke sometime after midnight. Scouts learned how to tell how much time had passed, though no one had a good explanation for exactly how the trick was accomplished. Dax’ scaly hand covered her mouth in warning not to cry out. Instinctively her hand went for the heavy knife at her hip but she managed to catch herself.

“They search for us,” Dax hissed. 

Kris, who had fallen asleep in her armor stood up feeling the painful spots where the leather had pressed into her skin while asleep. The Argonian gestured to the window and Kris could see torch light out in the street. Peering through the dusty pane she saw a squad of livered soldiers head into a tavern with weapons drawn leaving a half dozen men on the street to keep watch, arrows knocked in their long bows and red eye scanning.

“Shit,” Kris commented and glanced up at the city above. A faint red glow still lit the night sky, indicating that the fires had not yet been extinguished. She could feel the distant pull of magicka as the Dark Elf wizards used heir magic to chill the flames from existence, accompanied by nod doubt the vast majority of the garrison hauling buckets of water. That meant that Dax’ people had probably made a clean escape, with no one worrying about slaves at a time like this. She didnt waste time pointing out the obvious fact that if they were found here they were worse than dead.

“Lets go,” she told the Argonian grabbing her pack and whispering a spell. Cool healing energy flowed into her body, easing her aches and relaxing her muscles. Her mother had been a healer and had taught her the basics, though her daughter, wild and rugged had prefered running through the woods to lessons. The slipped wordlessly down the stairs and into the taproom. Quite a few of the denizens were awake, many smoking pipes or sipping at ale and casting nervous glances at the street. They might be reasonably sure they weren't the ones being hunted, but no man has a clean conscience when the watch come calling. 

“Out the back,” Kris whispered and they moved to the back door. Pausing to whisper another spell Kris seemed to soften, chameleon like into the background and then slipped through the door. As she had expected a dunmer soldier stood at the end of the alley, though his eyes were out into the street at the tavern currently being searched. Drawing her knife she slipped down the edge of the alley until she was only a few feet behind the oblivious elf, then, with the speed of a striking tiger, she clamped a hand over the Dunmer’s mouth and yanked him into the alley, her knife sawing across his wind pipe and turning his attempted scream into a choking gurgle. She lowered his slackening corpse to the ground and then peeked out into the street. The remaining sentries hadn’t yet noticed their fellows dissaparnce.

“We have to move quickly, down the street towards the docks,” she told him. The both set of at a quiet run, moving as swiftly as they could while keeping quiet. It felt eerie to be in plain sight but there were very few other options. For a moment Kris believed they might make it but then a shout sounded behind her and a arrow buzzed spitefully past her ear. She skidded around the corner and down onto the stone docks, where long jettys thrust out into the inky black ocean. As she had several craft were in the process of getting underway. Ship captains had no cleaner consciousness than tavern patrons afterall. 

A hue and cry erupted behind them as a half dozen soldiers reached the corner. A sleepy looking dark elf in stained livery stirred from his slumber just in time for Dax’ axe to take his head off with a sweep. At the end of the closest dock a long ship was casting off its mooring lines.

“Run for it!” she shouted and bolted for the ship. The crew gave up their attempt to undo the lines and grabbed for axes, cutting the heavy ropes just as Kris and Dax reached them. Steeling herself for an axe thrust she leaped into the ship. There was no deck and she plunged into the thwart with  crash landing in a tangle on a pile of rope. There was a second thud as Dax landed beside her, a little more gracefully. She made to get up but a fur clad nord with a tight expression and a rusted axe pinned her to the deck with a foot and raised the blade, pausing to cast a questioning glance back at a red beared giant who stood at the tiller.

“You there, hand over those fugitives at once or I’ll have you skinned alive!” snarled an aristocratic Dunmer voice. The red beared man shook his head at the crewman and the pressure on her chest eased as she was allowed to stand. The ship was already sliding out into the ocean two horse lengths from the docks and gaining. 

“Tell your mother to go back to fucking horkas!” the Nord called sounding for all the world as though he were wishing the officer a pleasant morning. The crew howled with laughter, adding their own insults impressive both in their creativity and in their flavor. 

“You are aiding the escape of criminals!” the Dunmer screamed, “our ships will hunt you down!”

“The day a fucking dark elf sea cow can run down Halfdan son of Haifiar, ill cut off my own fucking skin!” the Nord yelled. Arrows whizzed through the air but the Nords merely ducked beneath the shelter of the gunnels. Men grabbed oars and began to stroke, driving them farther and faster away from the docks. Within moments the arrows merely splashed into the water astern. The Nord, Halfdan apparently, jumped down from the steerage board and thumped over to the two stowaways.

“And just what the fuck to do you two think you are doing?” he demanded, his voice was loud but good humored. 

“Working passage,” Kris replied, “at least I hope so.”