It was almost a very short trip for Dardeh and Esbern.
They had barely made it to the top of the stairs in Riften when a shape came rushing out of the fog toward them. Dardeh barely saw it in his peripheral vision, but that was probably what saved his life. The dagger that had been meant for his heart caught him in the shoulder instead as he spun to face his attacker.
The other thing that saved him was that his attacker was a Khajiit, and was wearing a dress. Dardeh grunted and staggered backward, but as he did so he caught the lashing movement of a long tail.
Esbern yelled “we’ve got trouble,” and cast Stoneskin on himself. The assailant was startled, and turned toward him for just the moment it took to give Dardeh an opening.
Dardeh knew that he should be in pain. He must be in pain. But he couldn’t feel it. All he could feel was anger: a deafening roar in his ears, the rush of adrenaline from his chest as his heart pounded hard. Even though there was blood running down his arm, he grabbed the tail and yanked, hard. The Khajiit yowled and turned back toward Dardeh, dagger in one hand and claws bared on the other; but she got tangled for just the tiniest moment in the fabric of her own dress. Dardeh met her movement with one of his scimitars and a roar, the old familiar cry of rage and power that he’d grown up with and had used more times than he could count during the time since his mother had died. He rammed the scimitar through her and then stood there panting, holding her above the ground but impaled on the sword, his arm trembling with the effort of it, glaring at her as the light in her eyes turned from anger to fear and then faded entirely. Only then did he drop her onto the ground and turn his attention to his shoulder, gritting his teeth as the pain broke through the adrenaline.
What in the world is the matter with me? That wasn’t necessary.
As he slowly calmed, casting his healing spell on himself, he noticed not just Esbern but several citizens standing quietly observing him from a safe distance. And so now they’re afraid of me. That’s just great. I’m glad I didn’t do something foolish like use a Shout on her.
Once there was no more bleeding, Dardeh looked the body over carefully. She had a note in her pocket, reading: “I have reason to believe the target will be coming to Riften in the next few days. Discretion is preferred, but elimination of the target is of the highest priority. The usual restrictions on exposure are lifted – you will be reassigned outside Skyrim, if necessary, without penalty. Do not fail me. – E.”
So, he thought. Elenwen didn’t like the mess I left in her Embassy. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. He sighed and motioned for Esbern to follow him out the gate. Could I just go dig up some ore for awhile?
It was a long trip back to Riverwood, starting with a major delay at the old fortress called Faldar’s Tooth. Dardeh had assumed they would just pass by it and make good progress to the west, but as they approached they heard “Give ‘em the dogs, boys!” and three fighting wolves attacked from a cage that looked out over the lakeside path they were on. The dogs were hardly a problem. It was the swarm of bandits that slowed them down, both outside the fortress and in. Because of course Dardeh had not been able to convince himself to simply leave once the outside had been cleared of threats. There were bandits inside, and they would simply move to take over the ambush points their now-dead fellows had filled unless he got rid of them.
Esbern had held his own, both in Faldar’s tooth and on the long road back through the mountain pass to Riverwood. Dardeh had been especially glad for his company when they reached the narrowest part of the pass and a fireball had come at him from the dusk ahead. “When Lord Miraak appears all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!” cried a voice in Solstheim accents, and suddenly there were three of them, all targeted on him.
One was enough. He could Shout, if he was lucky, to interrupt a spell being cast, and if he could get close enough he could dispatch a Cultist with his swords, but three at once were two too many, especially in a place with nowhere to hide. Esbern summoned a frost atronach that doggedly pursued them with its huge bulk, and then continued firing firebolts. “I’m getting too old for this!” he yelped, but he and his atronach made the difference that allowed Dardeh to survive the encounter.
“Everyone wants to kill me,” he murmured as they continued on their way.
“Because you are the Dragonborn,” Esbern answered.
“Yes. And I don’t like it much,” he replied. I had a life to live, before this. It wasn’t an exciting life, but it was mine and nobody wanted me dead for it.
When at last they walked into the Sleeping Giant, Delphine met them. Her eyes met Dardeh’s for a moment, but then all her attention focused on the old man.
He looked at her for a moment, as if trying to reconcile the appearance of the woman before him with the Blade he had known years earlier. Then he smiled.
“Delphine. I… It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“It’s good to see you too, Esbern. It’s been too long, old friend.” Her voice cracked. “Too long.”
These two lived through so much and they are all that’s left. No wonder he was so anxious to see her.
Delphine led them to her basement room once again, and Dardeh then learned why Esbern was so valuable. He had been an archivist for the Blades. He knew everything. But he was old, and his mind wandered a bit, and he went off on long, rambling tangents that had even his old friend becoming a bit testy with him. Dardeh stood to the side and tried to suppress a grin.
At last, though, Esbern pointed to Delphine’s map and said “You see? Right here. Sky Haven Temple, constructed around one of the main Akaviri camps in the Reach, during their conquest of Skyrim.”
I know that place, Dardeh thought. At least the outside of it. It’s on top of one of the mountains. I always wondered what that was. Sky Haven Temple?
“So we’re going there, I guess?” he asked.
“Yes, this is where they built Alduin’s Wall. It was a hedge against the loss of recorded information. It holds everything they knew about Alduin and his return. There’s no guarantee, of course, but it should tell us what we need to know.”
Delphine looked at Dardeh and nodded. “I know that area of the Reach. It’s near the place they call Karthwasten. We can meet you there or all travel together. Your choice.”
Dardeh looked down at himself. My armor’s a mess again. I need something better. I’m tired. I need to see Lucia before I take on something else and I need to reassure Lydia that I’ll be all right. I need to reassure myself that I’ll be all right.
“I’ll meet you there,” he said, raising his eyes to meet Delphine’s gaze. “I won’t be too long behind you. I have a couple of important things to take care of at home first.” At home. Huh. Somehow Whiterun is home, now, not Markarth.
He stood there looking at the map for a moment while Delphine and Esbern walked back up the stairs to the inn. He heard her voice.
“Orgnar, this is it. The inn is yours. I’m probably never coming back.”
“Well. That’s something to think about.” Orgnar’s deep rumble was full of surprise, the first time Dardeh had heard something aside from a monotone grunt from the gruff barkeep.
“Take care of yourself, Orgnar. Goodbye.”
“Yeah… sure. You too, Delphine. You be safe.”
I would almost say I detect a little emotion there. It’s strange times we live in.
______
All the way back to Whiterun, Dardeh thought about the Thalmor in the Ratway, and the Khajiit in Riften’s marketplace. The more he thought about them the more uneasy he became, the more his stomach roiled, and the happier he was that he could spend a night resting peacefully.
I don’t like this. It’s one thing to kill an enemy who’s attacking. It’s another to make them suffer before they die. Where is this coming from?
Back to the Reach. Where I will undoubtedly have all sorts of chances to kill more people whether I like it or not. He was still shaking his head as he walked into Breezehome.
Lydia was standing behind the counter, peeling potatoes, and looked up. Her eyes widened.
“Dardeh!”
Before he could even respond, she dropped the knife, ran to him, and threw her arms around his chest, pressing herself to him.
Dardeh was stunned, not only by the fact that she was hugging him but that her hug was so strong. A warrior’s arms, no doubt about it. And a woman’s body, no doubt about that, either. He held his arms out to his side, not wanting to touch her, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.
She suddenly realized what she was doing and pushed back from him, her face red as flames. “I’m sorry, my… Dardeh. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m just happy that you’re back safe.”
Dardeh looked at her and smiled, sadly. It’s time to have this conversation, I guess.
“Lydia, I…” He slipped out of his pack and dropped it in the corner, earning himself a grimace from Lydia. He grinned. “Sit down for a moment. I need to talk to you.”
I should be used to this by now. It never gets any easier, though.
He reached for one of her hands and took it in both of his own, then met her gaze. “Listen, Lydia. You need to understand something, and we need to get it straightened out right now. You remember that I told you I’d never take advantage of our situation, right?”
She nodded.
“Well that wasn’t just me being a nice guy. I am a nice guy, of course,” he said, grinning, “but that’s not it. There’s never going to be anything between the two of us aside from friendship. It’s not personal. You’re really quite wonderful, you know, and I’m really pleased that you are glad I’m home. But it just isn’t going to happen, and it’s because of me, because of who I am and have always been, for as long as I can remember. Do you understand?”
Please, please don’t make me spell it out.
Lydia looked at him, thoughtful. At first she looked a bit hurt, but then her expression slowly changed to one of comprehension.
“Oh, I see.”
Dardeh heaved a huge sigh.
“Thank the gods. Lydia, you would be just perfect if that was something I was interested in. I hope you know that. I mean, it would be really wonderful to make a proper family of it for Lucia but it’s just not going to be.” It was true, too, he thought; she was beautiful, and willing to do whatever he asked of her, and he had a feeling that if he asked her to follow him into battle she would be ferocious and would save his hide more times than he could even imagine.
She nodded, and then grinned, a mischievous grin that made Dardeh almost regretful for a moment. I’ll bet she’s a lot of fun. “Well. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Dardeh. You are, though, rather … appealing.”
“I know,” he said. Then he shook his head and laughed, running one hand over his braids. “I mean… wow that came out wrong, didn’t it? I have been told that before, is what I should have said. Nice guy with a big head, eh?”
Lydia laughed. “It’s all right, my Thane. The Dragonborn is allowed to have a big head.”
The Dragonborn. Well there goes my good mood.
“Well. Yeah. About that. I have to get some better armor and I have to go back out and be Dragonborn some more. Tomorrow. I don’t want to do it but it seems that I’m all they’ve got.” He looked at her and sighed. “You know I’m really just a miner, right? I grew up mining silver out around Markarth.”
She shook her head. “You’ll never be ‘just’ anything, Dardeh. I think you need to get used to that.” Then she nodded toward the door of Lucia’s room. “You might want to go say hello to the newest member of the household.”
“What?”
She grinned. “Go see.”
Dardeh rose and went to the door of Lucia’s room, then knocked gently. “May I come in?”
“Yes, Papa, but don’t make a loud noise, please,” she responded.
Dardeh raised his eyebrows and looked back at Lydia, who was grinning from ear to ear. He pushed open the door and looked in. There was Lucia, on her stomach on the floor, with a fox nuzzling her neck.
“A fox.”
“Yes, may I keep him, Papa? Lydia said it was ok.”
Dardeh laughed, and traded another grin with Lydia.
“Well it seems you two have decided things already. As long as you’re responsible for him I don’t see why not.”
“Oh thank you, Papa!” She put the fox aside, gently, and rose to hug him.
He held her tightly for a moment, smiling. I love this child. I don’t know how it happened, but I do. I hope I can take care of her well enough. At least she’s not cold anymore.
_____
Dardeh did not sleep peacefully that night as he had hoped. His dreams tossed him about like the earth sliding after a quake. He saw the Stormcloak soldier stepping on a dead Imperial’s arm; dragons breathing fire and halving men with their teeth; cultists throwing fireballs at him. He slashed at them, stabbing, shouting at them with all the power his voice and his Voice could muster, but nothing he did had any effect. He saw the Khajiit trembling in agony, held aloft by his sword and his arm, bleeding into the stones of Riften, and in his dreams he wept, wondering why this was so.
The dreams subsided for a moment, and he drifted off toward rest again. Then, as if emerging slowly from a dense fog, he saw a place he thought that he recognized. A tower, in the Reach, where he and his friends had sometimes played when he was a boy. He recognized the Dwemer door and the spot where birds made their nests, season after season, only to have their eggs stolen by mischievous boys. I know this. Why am I seeing this?
A figure stepped forward from the fog and stood, defiant, glaring across the expanses of the Reach. A Redguard man, dark of skin and hair and powerful of build, wearing nothing but boots and the bare-chested armor of the barbarians of the Reach. He carried Redguard scimitars and a cruel expression.
Dardeh peered at him, with the eyes of his dream, unable to see anything more distinct than that and yet feeling as though he should know this man. Who is this? He strained to remember, his dream-eyes strained to see, and yet nothing came clear. Then he heard a deep voice speaking.
“Dardeh.”
He thrashed about, trying to turn to see where the voice was coming from but unable to make his body or his head do what he desired, his frustration growing more with every moment.
“Dardeh?”
This time it was a woman’s voice. He blinked and opened his eyes, to find himself completely tangled in the bedclothes with Lydia standing over him.
“I’m sorry, but you asked me to wake you early. It’s early now.”
“Oh. Of course. Thank you.” He watched her leave and then looked around the room, trying to catch his bearings. What was that all about? He rose and slid into his new armor, then had a small breakfast. I’m confused. I need to quiet my mind.
He gave Lydia a hug before he left, murmuring “thank you” quietly next to her ear, and she hugged him back tightly. They smiled at each other, and he was grateful yet again to have her on his side.
It was a beautiful, quiet morning in Whiterun. Only a few souls were stirring at this early hour, but one of them was Heimskr, the priest of Talos who ordinarily stood shouting his teachings in obnoxious fashion, most every day. At this hour he knelt, silently, meditating before the statue of Talos.
Dardeh joined him. Together they worshipped, and thought, and hoped for the future, in perfect silence.
