It was a long trip back up the mountain, but Dardeh didn’t mind it as much as he’d expected. He had company.
Roggi tried hard to hide it, but it was clear as they worked their way up from Ivarstead that he was more than a bit in awe – both of being on his way to High Hrothgar and of being the Dragonborn’s companion. Dardeh tried hard to distract him from these facts but it was no use, so he decided to show off, instead. A snow bear came barreling out of the trees and Dardeh Shouted it down the side of the mountain, snickering as it rolled away. Roggi just shook his head and breathed the word “Dragonborn.” Dardeh grinned at him.
They stopped for a breather by one of the wayshrines, and Roggi sat before it, meditating, for some time.
He looks like a man in search of something, to me.
Roggi was even more in awe when they passed quietly through High Hrothgar, stopping only a few moments to warm themselves before the last leg of the journey. Master Borri looked at Dardeh, nodded, and said “Dovahkiin,” and the building shuddered at his voice. Roggi gulped. Dardeh smiled at Roggi and whispered, “You should have heard it when all of them spoke at once. It was really something.”
When they left the monastery and Dardeh began the series of Clear Skies Shouts they needed to reach the summit, it was too much for Roggi to take. He sighed and shook his head.
“Dar,” he said quietly, “I can’t believe this.”
Dardeh grinned at him as they trudged up the path in the bitter wind. “Why not? You’ve known I was Dragonborn since you met me. You and a couple of guards were about the only people who recognized it back then. Even Irileth – and she saw me kill my first dragon — even she didn’t believe it, but you did.”
“But,” Roggi said, smiling at him, “I’m the one who got to travel with you through High Hrothgar. It’s like being in… some kind of story.” His eyes were shining.
Dardeh shielded his eyes and looked up toward the mist made blindingly bright by the sun. “Yes. I know what you mean. I’ve felt that way ever since Helgen. The problem, though, is that I don’t know what we’re going to face up at the top.” He turned to face Roggi. “I may not come out of this alive, Roggi, and I don’t know how you get back down the mountain if I don’t. You can turn back now, and I will understand. Completely. I can’t ask you to risk your life.”
“You’ll be fine if I have anything to say about it,” Roggi responded, frowning briefly. Then he grinned. “And turn back? Miss the excitement? Not a chance.”
“You may not have a choice. I don’t know what will happen when I read this scroll. But…” He trailed off. Do I really want to say this? Then he looked at Roggi’s face and knew he had to. It may be the only chance I ever have. I can’t tell him what I really feel but I can say this.
“What is it?”
Dardeh smiled. “I’m so glad you’re with me. I don’t know how I could do this by myself.”
Roggi laughed. “Of course you could. I’m just along for the tour.”
“Well, the tour ends at the top, where you will meet Paarthurnax. Oh, and by the way. He’s a dragon.” He laughed as he watched Roggi’s mouth fall open.
“A…dragon?”
“Yes. Don’t be alarmed by him; he knows me. And we’d better move. The mist is rolling back in.” He turned to face up the trail.
“LOK – VAH KOOR!”
____
The experience Dardeh had when he read the Elder Scroll at the Time Wound was something he was sure he would struggle to describe no matter how much time he had left. It was as though he was watching a scene unfold before him, but in which he couldn’t take part. He saw Alduin. He saw the ancient Nord heroes banish Alduin. And when he came back to himself he felt, deep inside, another Shout: JOOR ZAH FRUL. Dragonrend. That was what was written on Alduin’s Wall, in pictures.
He had an opportunity to use it immediately. Everything around him erupted into noise and chaos. Flaming boulders began raining down onto them.
“Dragon!” he heard Roggi shout, in a tone just short of terror. He looked up and saw the huge, black, looming form of Alduin.
I knew it was you. I’ve seen these rocks before. They didn’t kill me then and they won’t kill me now.
“Use the Dragonrend Shout, Dragonborn! You cannot defeat him on the wing!” Paarthurnax’s cavernous voice came from somewhere above them, as he circled the area, snapping at his brother Alduin.
“Stay back, Roggi!” Dardeh yelled. But Roggi couldn’t hear him; he heard Roggi roar “You’ll die this day, dragon!”
Dardeh turned to the black form circling overhead and Shouted, and the beast was forced to land. They attacked with swords, both of them, Dardeh trying to shield Roggi from the flames and Shouting Alduin’s snapping teeth back from him with Unrelenting Force.
It seemed to go on forever. Alduin would rise back to the skies and Dardeh would Shout him down again, all the while dodging flaming boulders and straining to hear any sound from Roggi amidst their crashing, the deafening roar of Paarthurnax and Alduin fighting each other, and the horrible keening wail of Alduin’s fire breath seeking him out. Once or twice he felt the fire rise up from within him and burst out into a Fire Breath shout of his own but he was no match for either Alduin or Paarthurnax; all he could do was allow his body to do what it must, and hold on until the next moment. The sword he’d found in Sky Haven Temple had more effect on Alduin than his scimitars did, but he could only use it during those brief moments Alduin was grounded.
I’m going to lose. He’s too strong, and I’m a fool for imagining I might ever fight him on equal terms.
Just as he thought it was hopeless and he was sure to die, Alduin landed and stopped attacking. He turned his enormous head toward them and spoke, his voice making the ground shudder.
“Meyz mul, Dovahkiin. You have become strong. But I am Alduin, Firstborn of Akatosh! Mulaagi zok lot! I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else. You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you… mortal!”
He rose again to the skies and disappeared over the crest of the mountain, and Dardeh stood in shock, his mouth open.
And it seemed that they would have to try another day, in another way, to stop Alduin the World-Eater. Paarthurnax could only think of one possibility. Dragonsreach had once been a trap, a cage, for a dragon. Perhaps it could be so used again, and perhaps in that way Dardeh could reach Alduin.
He had to speak to Balgruuf.
“Well,” he sighed, glancing at Roggi’s dismayed face, “there’s one good thing about it.”
“Really?” Roggi grimaced. “A good thing? What’s that?”
Dardeh smiled. “Balgruuf likes me.”
He clapped Roggi on the back. “Let’s go. It’s a long way home.” And he began telling Roggi about Balgruuf’s part in the excellent trick they’d played on the Thalmor, at the Embassy. Roggi’s laughter echoed off the rocks as they climbed down the mountainside.
____
They were just beginning the ascent through the narrow pass to Helgen when it happened.
One moment Dardeh was joking with Roggi, not really paying attention, just looking at him and grinning, and the next a fireball caught him full in the chest and threw him onto his back in the snow, writhing in pain. He was fighting to catch his breath, grab a potion to help resist the fire and heal his burns, when he heard Roggi bellow “Oh no you don’t!”
He struggled upright and saw them, three of them. Another group of Miraak cultists, and this time they were trying to kill Roggi right alongside him. He ran toward them and Shouted the first, the one casting fireballs, backwards out of the way. The man struck his head on a rock when he landed, and was still. The second attacked Dardeh with daggers, which might not have been a problem save for the fact that the man was deadly good with them. It took Dardeh more than a comfortable amount of time to dispatch him.
Just as he made a ferocious backhanded swipe that sliced the Cultist open and dropped him to the ground, he heard Roggi cry out. He looked up the hill. Roggi had been in a furious duel with the third Cultist, and was holding his own; but the greatsword was heavy and he was tiring. Dardeh started for them just as the Cultist thrust with his sword and pierced Roggi through the shoulder, the point of it emerging from just under the heavy leather bandolier.
“NO!” Dardeh roared, and ran for the Cultist.
A few moments later he stood and stared down at the tattered remnants of the man lying in the snow, with no recollection of what had happened. Dardeh was gasping for breath, disoriented. He looked around and saw Roggi trying to rise, but falling back.
“By Ysmir,” Dardeh growled, running to him. There was a pool of red spreading out from under Roggi and he was nearly as pale as the snow around them. Roggi’s gaze met his and Dardeh saw fear; all Roggi could do was try to breathe.
For the next few minutes Dardeh frantically tried to stop Roggi from bleeding to death. He forced every healing potion he could find down Roggi’s throat, pressed on the wound, and prayed silently to Talos please, please spare this man and I will never ask for anything ever, ever again. And he cursed himself for never having learned the healing hands spell his mother had learned in spite of her Nord reluctance to use magic, because she knew she would be called upon to use it.
Finally Roggi opened the eyes that had fluttered shut and he coughed.
“Guess I’m not going to Sovngarde today after all.”
“Of course you’re not,” Dardeh replied; but he could see that Roggi still had a fight on his hands and might yet die if they didn’t get to Whiterun, and the healers, right away. If nothing else, he might freeze to death if he couldn’t walk; it was snowing and bitter cold and even a Nord couldn’t survive, injured, in those conditions for long. And it was a long trek yet ahead of them. He tried to damp down the panic that rose in his chest, but he couldn’t see how to proceed. He would carry Roggi on his back if he had to, but Roggi was a big man and even someone as strong as Dardeh wouldn’t be able to make much headway with that much weight on his back.
Then he looked up the trail ahead of them. There were always hunters wandering along this pass, picking off the few animals foolish enough to wander near the road, on the exposed rocks. “I’ll be right back,” he told Roggi, then jogged up the path.
There was, in fact, a hunter somewhere ahead of them. But he had left his horse not far from where Roggi and Dardeh had battled the Cultists, and Dardeh hesitated not a moment before leaping onto its back and riding back to where Roggi sat leaning against a stone. He slid off and helped Roggi mount the horse, then jumped up behind him and smacked the horse’s rump to get it going.
“You stole a horse,” Roggi murmured.
“Yeah, sure did,” Dardeh rumbled, urging the horse into a gallop and thinking of the man he’d been with in the cart to Helgen. “I don’t care.”
They passed the hunter on the way through the pass. Dardeh ignored his shouts, and was grateful for his heavy armor as an arrow bounced off his shoulder.
_____
“… and now you know why I wanted to come with you, Dardeh,” Lydia scolded him, standing at the top of the stairs with her arms crossed, wearing a dress and a disgusted expression. “Both of you might have been killed. You have never seen me in battle but I assure you that I could protect your back as well as any man you know.”
“Shhh, Lydia. I know. I’m sorry.”
Dardeh had been trying to calm her down ever since the two of them had stumbled in through the door of Breezehome and he’d shouted for her to help get Roggi up the stairs and into bed. He’d sent Lucia dashing for one of the priestesses. “Tell them the Thane needs them and will make a large donation to the Temple if that will help them make a house call. I’ll introduce you to my friend when he’s feeling better.”
And she had, and the priestess had come and laid hands on Roggi. Dardeh could tell when the danger had passed, as the big blonde’s face had relaxed and he’d fallen asleep. It was then that Lydia had lit into him.
“You may be sorry, but do you know how hard it has been for Lucia and me to sit here, month after month, wondering if you were alive? And who is this man?”
Ahhh. Now we get down to it.
“Lydia, he’s…” Dardeh trailed off. My face must say it all, he thought as Lydia’s expression changed from anger to surprise. “His name is Roggi. From Kynesgrove. He knows my sister. Rather well, actually. He’s the reason I was able to walk through the door; if he hadn’t been with me those Cultists would have killed me. And I… can’t let him die. I just can’t.”
Lydia searched his face for several long moments. “Oh. I see. At least I think I do,” she said.
Dardeh nodded. “I think you do,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm, then letting his hand drop. “He has no idea, and I would like to keep it that way.”
She nodded. “I can do that.” She smiled. “So are you sleeping with him?” Then her eyes went wide and she blushed furiously. “I mean, tonight. I mean where are you… oh that didn’t come out well at all, did it?”
Dardeh couldn’t help it; he broke down into giggles. “Um, no, and I hadn’t considered that far ahead.” He tried to stop laughing but every glance at Lydia’s horrified face made him laugh more. “It’s ok, Lydia. Truly, it is. Well,” he said, glancing into his bedroom. Roggi was splayed out across most of the double bed and was hard at work snoring. “I could try to squeeze out a bit of room on the bed, but I don’t want to bother him. He lost a whole lot of blood and it’s going to take him some time and rest to get it back. I guess I can go stay at the Bannered Mare. I’d put my bedroll down out here but I really need a real bed. Can you….”
Lydia smiled and sighed. “Can I watch out for him and Lucia? Of course I can.”
Then she surprised him. She slipped both arms around his chest and leaned into him, her head against his shoulder. “I am sworn to carry your burdens, Dardeh. I’m glad you’re safe.” She kissed him on the cheek and then wandered away.
Dardeh looked after her with his mouth open for a moment. He reached up and touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had met his skin. Then he shook his head and made his way down the stairs. He needed to check in with the Temple, thank them yet again for their help, and leave them a fat coin purse.
What a remarkable woman she is, he thought. I know Balgruuf ordered her into this job but I can’t imagine why she hasn’t left anyway.
_____
He couldn’t go to sleep for the longest time. He tossed and turned. The tavern noise below, which normally wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, kept distracting him. The more he thought about the Cultists, the angrier he got. I don’t know who Miraak is. I don’t care. I have important things to do. But he keeps sending these thugs after me and someone is going to die if I don’t do something about it. I have to do something about it but I can’t. I have to go speak to Balgruuf and we have to catch a dragon….
He found himself, somehow, he didn’t know how, sitting at his favorite table in the back corner of the Bannered Mare, with a tankard of mead in his hand. Across from him was someone he didn’t know. A Redguard man, wearing a tunic typical of men of the Alik’r desert but topped with heavy, padded leather plates. There was something familiar about him, and Dardeh peered at him, his mind seeming to move slowly as if wading through deep snow. His hair is what mine would look like if I let these braids out, he thought idly. Where have I seen this man?
“So why are you still here?” the man asked matter-of-factly. He had a voice much like Dardeh’s, deep and penetrating, but without the same overtone of power. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to Solstheim?”
“Who… are you?” Dardeh tried to say. The words came out, but his mouth didn’t move.
I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?
“You don’t recognize me? You’ve seen me before. Reachwind.” The man leaned forward, examining him closely. “You’re a fine boy, aren’t you. A fine son. She did well.”
Dardeh laughed. “Boy? I’m nearly thirty winters. No boy.”
“You still don’t know who I am.”
“No I do not.”
“Perhaps it would help if you saw me as I was when we came to the Reach.”
Dardeh blinked. There he was, the man before him, but without his armor. Well-creased brow, scars down the left side of his face. Dark red war paint. Green eyes. Reachwind, the tower near Markarth where he had seen the dark-skinned man in barbarian clothing.
Green eyes.
A fine son.
“Are you … my father?”
The man smiled, a grim smile that had no warmth in it. “Dadarh at-Jine. From a long line with power such as yours. And when men stand in our way…”
Dardeh’s head swam. Dadarh at-Jine. Dadarh was his father’s name. Descendant of Jine, the man he had met before, in a dream. “…we kill them all. That is our way,” he murmured, finishing the sentence with the words Jine had said to him. He looked at the man again and saw that yes, he had this man’s face. If not for the weathering and his own lighter hair and skin they could be the same man. “You are my father, aren’t you?”
“Go to Solstheim,” Dadarh said. “Kill Miraak.” He smiled again. “Use my swords.”
And then he was gone.
Dardeh bolted upright on his bed, yet again. He had left the swords at Breezehome.
But he knew where they were.