The southernmost route to Riften was a beautiful run along the edge of the Jerall Mountains through the thickly-packed forest of yellow-leaved birch and aspen. Dardeh couldn’t quite get over how different this part of Skyrim was than the stark grays and dark greens of his home in the Markarth area. If it hadn’t been for needing to fight a wolf or bear every half hour or so he would have been tempted to just stroll along.
The Ratway in Riften. That’s where he probably needed to go. Delphine had mentioned the old sewers in the lower level of the city as a potential hiding place for Esbern, and had warned him that finding him might be difficult, dangerous, and – if Esbern were still as stubborn as he had been years earlier – frustrating.
Dardeh had spent several days in his home, resting, preparing for the trip, talking to Lydia and Lucia, and thinking about the dragons. If Esbern had eluded the Thalmor for this long he would be safe for a few more days; and if Delphine couldn’t spare him enough time to get himself into shape, they were all going to die sooner rather than later. He told Lydia what was going on and why he needed to leave, and had instructed her that if anything should happen to him, the house was hers and Lucia’s to share. He’d also written his instructions down.
“Just in case, Lydia,” he’d told her in response to her not-very-thinly veiled aura of anxiety about the whole thing. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen to me. I’m pretty good at shouting people down these days,” he’d added, smirking. “But I don’t want someone claiming that you two don’t have the right to stay here if I’m gone for a long time.” He had placed the document in the safe and had told Lydia how to open it.
He had spent a long time talking to Lucia about being away. It was obvious that losing her own father had been a huge trauma for her, because as soon as he mentioned going away her eyes had gotten huge. I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to leave, too.
“I’m not going to leave you alone, little one,” he told her. “I don’t want you to worry. I have some important work to do that is going to help a lot of us, if it goes well. I’m not going to the war, and I’m not going to just disappear like your da or my da did. I promise that I’ll be back as soon as I can. All right?”
Lucia had put on a brave face and smiled, and had given him a hug. “All right, Papa,” she told him. “I’ll help Lydia with the house.”
“That’s my girl. Now go out and play. Maybe Braith is around.”
Lucia frowned. “Braith bullies me and Lars. I don’t want to play with her anymore.”
Dardeh laughed. “I’ll bet she’s just lonely and wants someone to pay attention to her. Don’t let her bully you. They used to bully me when I was a little boy, too. I just laughed at them and look how big I turned out to be.”
She smiled at him and ran out the door.
“Be careful, my Thane,” Lydia had told him as he was leaving. Dardeh looked at her, ready to scold her about the “Thane” again, but just smiled when he saw the look on her face. She was truly concerned.
“I usually am.” Usually, not always. He would never say that again after Helgen. “Thank you. It means a lot to me that you would say that. And that you’ll take care of Lucia.”
Lydia smiled, but it was a wan smile. “Of course. Come back to us, Dardeh.”
He had left Whiterun on another of its rare sunny mornings, reflecting on how much his life had changed since he had left the Reach. He looked up into the warmth of the sky and once again thought of his mother as he walked down the road, heading east along the river and around the base of the mountain.
What do you think, Ma? When you left I was a miner, single, and had never been very far away from Markarth. Since then I’ve been through High Rock and Hammerfell, and parts of Cyrodiil, and I haven’t mined any ore in what feels like months and months. To look at me you’d think I was some kind of warrior. I’ve met two different Jarls and one of them calls me his friend. I’m a Thane of Whiterun, can you believe it? With a house of my own and a woman housecarl and no, it’s not like that. And I have a daughter. It was wrong the way they just left her out there on the streets by herself. You’d like her, Ma. She’s the sweetest little thing.I wish you could see her. I’ll probably always be single but I have a family, what do you think about that? I miss you, Ma.
There were butterflies simply everywhere on this morning, and bees zipping past his ears every so often. The air smelled sweet and moist from the rain that had passed the night before, and there was a light, warm breeze. He heard wolves howling, but they were far away howls and he simply relaxed and enjoyed his leisurely walk.
I still haven’t found my sister yet but I’m looking for her, Ma. I’m glad you told me about her. If I find her I’m going to need a bigger house. But here’s the most important thing. I’m Dragonborn. All those stories you used to tell me, when I was a boy? They weren’t just stories. But you knew that, didn’t you. You always told me I was different, and not just because of the obvious. That thing I could do with my voice? It was part of it. It’s like I was getting ready for the dragons, somehow. You were right. I’m the Dragonborn. And Alduin is real. I wish I could talk to you because I know you would be able to tell me what I need to know but I can’t. And I’m… afraid, Ma. But it would be worse if you hadn’t been such a good ma. Because at least I know.
It was late in the afternoon on the day he reached the south gate of Riften, only to be stopped by a guard.
“Hold. And stand down. You need to use the north gate.”
“Why? This one’s right here.”
The guard glared at him. “My orders are to tell the riff-raff to use the north gate. You can either go there or find another city.”
Dardeh was not pleased.
He did, however, trudge his way around Riften’s high stone walls, grumbling the whole way. They were good, solid walls here in Riften, old but solid. Where the wall came closest to the base of the eastern foothills, though, shrubs and dried grasses were thick, and Dardeh looked at them with eyes that had seen dragon fire. He caught a glimpse, here and there, of a wooden roof on the other side of the wall and thought the same thing he’d thought in Ivarstead. They’d best hope there are no more dragons this far south or they’ll be in trouble. They may be on a lake but there would never be enough time to get enough water to the top of these roofs.
When he finally reached the north gate, he was stopped again. He glared at the Nord guard standing to his right, who puffed up his chest, acted official, and tried to convince Dardeh that he needed to pay a visitor’s tax. Dardeh sighed and shook his head.
“No. There’s no such thing as a visitor’s tax. There is such a thing as a shakedown, though. And there’s also such a thing as a guy who isn’t going to fall for it. You’re looking at him.”
The two guards had exchanged a glance, and the one to Dardeh’s left actually chuckled.
“He just really needs to come up with a new idea, that’s all there is to it,” he said to his fellow.
The other guard glared at him. “Do you want to get us both killed?” Then he looked at Dardeh and shrugged. “All right, I’ll open the gate. Give me a moment,” and went to do so. Dardeh pushed through the gate, trying to keep a straight face as he heard the guard with the key say “So who’s gonna go over his head, me or you?”
“Gods, brother. Not me. I value my skin. She’s scarier than he is.”
Guess this little game’s been going on for a while.
Delphine had given him the name of a man who might be able to point him directly to Esbern, but before he headed down into the bowels of the city to search for either of them he wanted a drink and a bite to eat. The inn was right in front of him as he approached the noisy marketplace; he pushed the door open and made his way to the bar. It wasn’t especially busy yet, although he had no doubt it would be very soon. All the better for the questions he needed to ask.
The innkeeper was a pale Argonian woman with the familiar raspy voice common to her race. She also had an obvious chip on her shoulder, warning him to hit the road if he didn’t have any coin.
He grinned and slid onto a stool. “I’ll show you my coin if you’ll tell me what’s on the menu.”
She smiled. Argonian smiles had always baffled him. They looked ever so close to snarls if a person wasn’t paying attention, or so he thought. Keerava, as she introduced herself, cut him a slice of the apple pie that she had out on display and a flagon of ale to wash it down, and took his coins maybe a bit too eagerly. Then she hovered near him, leaning on the bar with her elbows.
“By the way,” he said, taking a bite of the pie and instantly losing his train of thought. The pie was heavenly; juicy, tart and sweet at the same time and with a crust that practically melted in his mouth. Pie. It was the best. “Oh, this is really good, thanks. Really wonderful. Sorry, what I meant to ask you is this. I’m looking for someone. An old guy who is supposed to be in hiding out around here.”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve never heard of anyone like that. There are plenty of old guys around, for certain, but none of them are hiding. But I’ll tell you this much. If I were hiding out in Riften, the Ratway’s where I’d be. There’s a kind of tavern down there called the Ragged Flagon, where all the lowlifes go to get drunk and knife each other.”
He nodded. “Sounds wonderful. Thanks. That’s what I had heard. I’ll head down there to start looking.” He slid a couple extra coins across the bar to her. Information was information, after all, and he had brought plenty of coins with him. She nodded and smiled, sweeping them off the surface and into her pockets.
“Well watch yourself down there.”
The fog had rolled in off the lake by the time Dardeh stepped back out into the marketplace, but that didn’t seem to have driven anyone indoors; it was still noisy and full of activity. He had found himself carrying a number of wolf pelts, a couple of bear pelts, and a few weapons by the time he’d gotten to Riften, and he decided to see what he could do with them at the smithy just outside the marketplace. The smith exchanged some of the weapons he’d collected for some crafting feathers and a few ingots of moonstone; Dardeh wanted some better arrows and elven ones would be just the ticket. He chopped some firewood, then set to work on the pelts to make leather strips from them.
He had just turned to the forge to start making the arrows when there was a voice behind him, a deep, soft brogue.
“A little light in the purse, eh lad? I can help you make some coin if you’re interested.”
Oh, that’s excellent, Dardeh thought. Very good. I have four thousand, two hundred and some odd septims in my purse and they are not, all told, light. In fact, I should have left a whole lot more of them behind with Lydia, but I wanted to be sure that I could buy anything good that might show up at a smithy or a shop. Or a bar. I would tell him that, too, because it’s so funny that he’s so wrong, except for the fact that I know this gambit and I’d just as soon not give him a reason to have his hands in my pockets. I’ve had that happen before and I’d like to avoid it right now.
“No, not really,” he said, as pleasantly as he could manage, without turning. “Thanks for your concern, though. Is there something I can do for you?”
He heard a snort.
“I can take a hint, lad. Never mind, then. If you change your mind and would like to make a bit of money, come find me.”
Dardeh turned to look at the man as he walked away. Tall, red hair, a nasty scar down the left side of his face. Too bad, he thought. He might be good-looking if not for that. But I don’t like a man who will walk up to a complete stranger and proposition him to do something shady. Odd, though. Usually a guy like him would be a better judge of things. Or maybe that’s his standard line and he’s just going through the motions today.
He shook his head, made a couple of batches of arrows, and then looked around for the stairs down to the lower level of the city, stairs that he knew must be nearby.
It wasn’t hard to find the Ragged Flagon. There was muffled noise coming from behind a closed door at the bottom of a short ramp, so he walked in. The area itself wasn’t exactly appealing, being in an old rainwater sewer, but it was clean and neat, which said to him that someone with a powerful voice had to be in charge. Clean a sewer? A challenge, to put it lightly. He walked through, taking stock of the patrons. Lots of townsfolk, and a number of people in matching dark leather armor. A number of them looked at him, saw someone they didn’t recognize, and kept staring.
The barkeep was busy sweeping around his bar, but Dardeh noticed how cleverly he kept an eye on everything, glancing up between broom strokes so smoothly a person might never catch him at it. If anyone might know something about an old man hiding out nearby, he would be the man; but down here in the dark Dardeh wanted to keep his interest in Esbern to himself unless it was absolutely necessary to ask elsewhere. Particularly given the number of stares he was getting. Instead, he headed for the exit at the far side of the bar.
It took him a good long while to navigate the warrens of the Ratway. They were well-named. There was a path to follow that wound its way around a large open space and through several levels, past rooms where beggars and people who sounded none too sane either muttered to themselves or erupted swinging knives and axes. He found himself, at last, on a narrow balcony, before a door covered with chains and locks.
Well if I were hiding out, I don’t know that I would advertise it quite so clearly as this.
He knocked. “Esbern? We need to get you out of here. The Thalmor know where you are.”
“Esbern? No, no, I’m not Esbern.” The voice was that of an old man, slightly querulous and most definitely anxious.
“Esbern, it’s all right. Delphine sent me. She needs your help. The dragons have returned.”
There was a distinct pause. Then the man spoke again.
“Delphine? So you finally found her. And she led you to me. And here I am, caught like a rat in a trap. Well. I guess you’d better come in.”
He still thinks I’m an enemy of some sort, that I was trying to catch him. Well, as long as he lets me in. Dardeh then waited, and waited, and waited. It would have been funny if he had not had the uneasy sensation of being watched for the entire time that Esbern fiddled with locks and chains and latches.
“Wait, this one always sticks. Just a moment.”
At last the door opened and Dardeh slipped inside.
Esbern was, as the Thalmor documents had suggested, in his late seventies. He was surrounded by books. He also seemed depressed: colorless, his face set in a sad frown, his eyes dull. When he spoke it was in tones of resignation.
“Don’t you see? The end is upon us. Alduin has returned, just as the prophecy said. He will devour all things, and the world will end. Nobody can stop him.”
Dardeh felt bad for him. He knew his prophecy, all right. But so did Dardeh.
“Except a Dragonborn, correct?”
“Yes, but no Dragonborn has been seen in centuries. It seems that the gods have forgotten us.”
Dardeh smiled. “It’s not hopeless, Esbern. I’m Dragonborn. It’s a very strange thing, but I can Shout, and when I kill a dragon I absorb its power somehow. In fact, I have met Alduin. He is raising the dragons from the dead but I can kill them. We need your help to stop him, and we need to get you out of here.”
The old man’s eyes lit up. “You’re… Dragonborn?”
Dardeh smiled, and nodded. “Yes, for better or worse I am.”
He watched Esbern’s face and eyes brighten as the implications worked through his mind.
“The gods have not abandoned us after all?” He looked around his room, eyes settling on this or that thing as he came to a decision. “We must… we must…. We must go. Take me to Delphine. There’s no time to lose. We have much to discuss!”
Dardeh waited again, for quite a good stretch, while Esbern rushed from one side of his room to another, looking for things that he simply had to have with him and not being able to find them. It might have been tiresome, given the need to get away without the Thalmor finding them, but Dardeh was amused. And pleased. He’d managed to give the old man a little bit of hope just by standing there and existing, and that made him unaccountably happy.
What happened next did not make him happy at all.
Once Esbern had secured as many important tomes as possible so as not to leave valuable information behind for the Thalmor to discover, he followed Dardeh out the door. They hadn’t gotten more than a few steps out onto the balcony when a voice from below rang out.
“There’s the Blades agent! Kill him!”
A figure in the distinctive gold and rose Elven armor of the Thalmor stepped out through a cage door into the open area several levels below Dardeh and began firing fireballs toward Esbern. Dardeh didn’t have a good enough angle of attack to Shout at the man, so he pulled out his bow and prepared to fire.
Esbern beat him to it.
Esbern didn’t use a bow. He cast a Stoneflesh spell on himself. Then he summoned a fire atronach, which immediately began throwing its own fireballs at the Thalmor.
That was the last thing in the world I would have expected. The old guy is good!
“Esbern! Come on!” he yelled, and ran for the first of the nearly endless corridors they would need to navigate in order to get out of the Ratway.
It was a long trip out. Dardeh took out several Thalmor. Esbern summoned a Frost atronach that beat another to death. They were almost to the doorway into the Ragged Flagon when one last Thalmor stepped out from the shadows and cried “Surrender to the Thalmor! You cannot escape!”
“Bet I can,” Dardeh said, calmly, rushing forward and attacking. He stabbed upward with both of his father’s swords, piercing the elf through and through, lifting him completely off the floor and then throwing him back down, dead, so hard that the body bounced when it hit the floor. It was a brutal attack.
Dardeh’s head swam for a moment. He looked down at the bleeding elf and shook his head.
Why did I do that? What is happening to me?
A few months before, the most violent thing he could remember doing was killing a saber cat that had attacked him on the side of the road one day while he’d been walking home from the mine. Aside from that, he had attacked ore veins, vigorously. That was all.
He had long since lost track of how many people he had killed since he had left home to search for his half-sister. It almost seemed commonplace, in any given day, to kill one or two people in his travels. Yes, they were people who attacked him first, but still.
This is madness.
He took a deep breath, shook his head, and looked around for Esbern, who was trying and failing to maneuver around his own frost atronach and get into the narrow corridor.
“Come on, Esbern,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”