Dardeh still looked grim by the time they returned to Helgen.
Roggi had done his level best to cheer him up. He’d sung songs, told funny stories, and kept Dardeh well occupied when they stopped for the night in Kynesgrove. Dardeh had felt very cared for, and even managed a smile now and then in response to something or other Roggi did. But it never left his mind that once again he found himself in possession of knowledge and power that he’d not had before, and that it was on account of Hermaeus Mora. He could feel the magic bubbling about in his mind, although he knew very few spells to use it with.
Roggi’s right though, he slowly admitted to himself as they walked back up the hill to the gates of Helgen. Nothing says I have to cast spells except to heal myself and, well, if that works better than it used to, who am I to complain? Maybe it’ll be alright. I have more than enough power in my Voice.
That bothered him, too, every time he thought about it. They kept dealing with wayward dragons. He kept absorbing their power, in that heady rush that sometimes had him wondering whether there would ever be any limit to it. It didn’t seem so.
Soon nobody will be able to touch me.
He frowned again, as they passed through the courtyard of the keep. Paarthurnax had said something about their shared blood that had stayed with him.
“I would not trust another dovah,” he’d said when Dardeh had mentioned the Blades’ demand that he kill Paarthurnax. They were wise to suggest that, the ancient dragon told him.
“Why not? Why wouldn’t you trust one of your own kind?”
Paarthurnax had grinned his toothy grin and said the words that had seared themselves into Dardeh’s mind.
“Dov wahlaan fah rel. We were made to dominate. The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?”
He did. It was true. And the worst of it was that Hermaeus Mora clearly understood that will, that overwhelming drive, and had positioned himself to take advantage of it, first through Miraak and now through Dardeh.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. I will strive to be like Paarthurnax, and overcome my evil nature through great effort. He glanced to his left to find Roggi, and smiled. With the help of this man.
They made their way down through the keep to the kitchen area, where Valerius had set up camp with his men. Marcus Jannus was seated at the table and Valerius leaned nearby against the wall.
“You told us to give you a day,” Dardeh called out, “and here we are. What’s been decided?”
“Ah yes, we’ve been waiting for you! Now that you’re here, we have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you.” Marcus rose from his chair, and Valerius stepped forward to meet him. “Do you really think this nonsensical plan of yours will work, Val?”
“Jannus, it has to work. We have no choice.”
Two people emerged from the room just beyond. One, a young man, wore the showy red armor of an Imperial legate and the other, a woman, was in standard-issue Imperial light armor. Dardeh reached for his swords without thinking, the fire in his blood readying itself.
It was a trap! They knew we were with Ulfric at Solitude and stalled for time to get the Imperials here to take us down!
He felt a hand on his arm and glanced at Roggi, to find him shaking his head and nodding toward the young man. The soldier kept pulling at the openings of the armor, and grimacing in obvious distaste. Dardeh relaxed as he realized that these people were there at Valerius’ bidding, and that Marcus seemed unruffled by their presence.
“Reporting… as ordered, sir,” the young man said, squirming uncomfortably in the armor.
“Good,” Valerius said. “The armor looks good on you two.” He chuckled.
The young man frowned. “Well, it itches. And it stinks.”
Valerius grinned. “It’s had a dead man in it. What do you expect?”
“So now that we’re all here,” Marcus interrupted, “Valerius, would you like to fill in our friends on your plan?”
Valerius nodded, whatever amusement had been on his face disappearing as if he’d never laughed before. He turned to face Dardeh.
“Did you ever stop to wonder how my men and I came to this place?”
“Not really, but now that you mention it… I would assume that you were here to spy on the Thalmor.”
“Well, yes, but that’s not all of it. Up until a couple of weeks ago we were still in Cyrodiil. Then our sources began reporting on new Thalmor activity taking place south of here.”
“Bastards are everywhere,” Roggi grumbled.
“Rumor – credible enough to investigate – was that they were turning an old fort into a prison for captured Talos worshippers. I sent my best man, Korst. He was ordered not to confront them, but to observe only. Unfortunately, he did not return, and I’m afraid something went very wrong.”
“How long has he been missing?”
“About two weeks. After one week went by we started to fear the worst, so we mobilized and came here. Finding Korst is the main reason we’re here. This fort gave us the perfect spot to rest, resupply, and prepare to find out what happened to him.”
That makes sense. This place has been just crawling with bandits for months and now we have soldiers in it, instead. There had to be a good reason.
“So,” Valerius continued, “we eliminated the bandits, took over the fort, tried to blend in and not draw attention to ourselves.”
“But Marcus found you anyway,” Dardeh said, grinning. “So. He said you have a plan?”
“Yes. Fortunately, the Imperials left everything behind when they abandoned this place. It looks like Elenwen herself was here.”
Roggi hissed from the other side of the room. Dardeh glanced at him and nodded.
“She was, and you’re right. They left everything, and almost everyone. I saw it all a bit too closely for comfort. But what does that have to do with a plan?”
“I need you to pose as an Imperial officer with orders to transfer Korst back to Elenwen for interrogation.”
Roggi snorted.
“Legion prisoner transfer parties always travel in groups of three, so Falco and Cienna will be going with you. As you can see, they’re already in Imperial uniform. You must do the same if this has any chance of working. We found some officer’s armor that should fit you, and put a little enchantment on it for you. It’s only worn by high-ranking officers, so it should help you carry a little more influence. If you have any other powers of persuasion, this would be the time to use them. Perhaps between the two, it will be enough for this to work.”
“Out of the question,” Dardeh said as soon as there was a pause. “I fought with the Stormcloaks. I will not impersonate an Imperial. Besides, look around you. There will be four of us, not three, because Roggi goes where I go. That means we’ll already be obviously not a prisoner transfer group, so the disguises won’t be necessary.” He felt the familiar surge of pride rising within him, and grinned. “I am confident in my own abilities.”
Gods. This is what Paarthurnax was warning me about. I don’t need to stumble over my own ego.
Valerius frowned. “Oh, very well. I understand. You’ll just have to kill them all. But please do not get my men killed.”
Dardeh suddenly thought of Jine, telling him when men stand in our way we kill them all. He nodded. Sorry to spoil this carefully designed plan but I won’t do it.
“Don’t worry. If Korst is alive you can rest assured we’ll bring him back.”
“Thank you, my friend. You know, Marcus seems to be quite impressed with you. And if he trusts you, then I trust you. The prison is located south of here, on the road past Fort Neugrad heading for the Cyrodiil border. I’ll mark it on your map. Please return as soon as you can. And good luck.”
Valerius and Jannus both left the area then, and their two soldiers followed Dardeh across the room to speak to Roggi.
“What do you think? Do we do it?”
“You’ve already told them we will, Dar; we can’t very well go back on your word. Besides,” he said, his eyes glittering in a way that made Dardeh a bit uneasy, “I will be more than happy to spill a little Thalmor blood. Won’t you?”
“Yes. No doubt about it.” Dardeh sighed. “I had actually hoped they were going to set us on clearing rubble. Something that’s only dangerous if you miss your swing and sink a pickaxe into your foot.”
Roggi grinned. “Yeah, I know. But you’re too valuable an asset, Dar. We probably have a better chance than most of rescuing this Korst fellow.”
Dardeh nodded. “I agree. Let’s get going, then.”
It was dark by the time they were running south toward the old fort Valerius had pointed out for them. Dardeh grimaced as he ran uphill toward the Pale Pass. This was the very road he’d traversed bound, in prisoner’s garb, in the back of a wagon on the beautiful sunny day that had ended with Alduin destroying Helgen. Just the memory of it made him angry.
If I hadn’t been trying to find Dag, I wouldn’t have been at the border gate when they caught that horse thief and took me along too. They simply wouldn’t listen to me. How different my life would have been, if not for that. I would never have gotten involved with dragons, or Graybeards, or Miraak, or the war. I would have just gone home to Markarth and spent my days digging up silver ore. I would never have known what sort of power was flowing through my veins.
He swiveled around for a moment to be sure that everyone else was keeping up to him, and saw Roggi, his blonde hair showing bright in what little moonlight there was on this night. He turned and resumed his run up the mountain.
And I never would have met Roggi. How empty life without him would be.
I suppose there’s simply no good to be had in second-guessing my life since Helgen. It happened the way it was supposed to happen.
He took the spur in the road that led around Fort Neugrad. It would be too easy to be distracted from their purpose if for some reason Imperials were trying to take back the fort. He needed to keep Valerius’ people alive, and there was a good chance they wouldn’t be if he and Roggi got involved in another war skirmish. It was a mercifully uninteresting trek aside from the sky becoming even darker than it had been and snow beginning to fall.
Rounding a corner, Dardeh saw up ahead an old Imperial-make tower. He vaguely remembered passing it on his cart ride down the mountain from the border, but hadn’t been truly focused on anything then aside from how am I going to stay alive? It hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder what was in there. He slowed to a walking pace and waited for the others to catch up.
“This is the place?” Roggi asked as he approached.
“Yeah.” He leaned closer to Roggi so as to get a good look at his eyes. “I hate to ask this, Roggi, because I know what you’ll say but… it’s a Thalmor prison. You know what we’re going to find inside, don’t you?”
Roggi’s expression was steely. “Of course I do. Some of the best techniques we learned came from those bastards.” He shrugged. “You know what I am, Dar. And foremost, right now, I’m someone helping to free up things so we can rebuild Helgen. That’s why I’m here with you. Unless there’s a good reason for it I’m not likely to exercise my other talents any time soon.”
Dardeh nodded slowly. Roggi clearly believed what he was saying just then and yet Dardeh could feel the shimmering undercurrent of excitement in his words, the desire to use his power the way only he could use it. I know that feeling because that’s how I am. That’s why I didn’t want Hermaeus Mora’s extra gifts. It’s too easy to actually use them.
But Roggi didn’t need him sowing any seeds of doubt, so he smiled and nodded. “Ok. I just wanted to be sure. Now then,” he added, turning to include the other two in his statement as well, “we’re just going to have to fight our way through these people to find Korst. I’m going to do something to give us a little edge. It’ll likely put everyone inside on high alert, so be ready.”
He drew his breath and Shouted. “MID – VUR SHAAN!”
Roggi grinned. Falco and Cienna each looked startled until they realized the extra energy they had, and began smiling too.
“Ready? I’m opening it up.”
As soon as they stepped in the door, Dardeh found himself face to face with an Altmer dressed in Thalmor Justiciar robes. Tall, as expected of an Altmer, and with medium-length brown hair and beard, the man presented as elegant and refined. Dardeh wasn’t much for mer, as a rule, but he did appreciate an attractive male no matter his race; and when this one spoke, his rich and cultured voice heightened the impression he made. Another Thalmor, in the gaudy, green glass armor they favored, stood behind the Justiciar in a doorway. Dardeh found himself smiling in spite of what he knew was serious danger before him.
“Who are you?” the mer asked. “And what do you want?”
“I’m here for a prisoner transfer. The Nord is to be taken to cell block 1138 in the Embassy.” He held out the papers Valerius had given him, but the elf’s eyes crinkled up with amusement and he laughed.
“You’re not even in uniform. Do you take me for a fool, spy?” Without taking his eyes off Dardeh, he raised his voice and called out. “Guards! To arms!”
Chaos erupted. The Thalmor standing behind the Justiciar swung around to his side and began firing lightning bolts at Dardeh. Another Thalmor soldier hurtled toward Dardeh, raising his sword to strike.
Dardeh whipped his own swords into position and blocked the mer’s blow, then began his own counterattack. Behind him, he could hear Roggi shouting at the Thalmor; and from the corner of his eye he caught the red of Falco’s pilfered Imperial uniform as he took on his own foe. Dardeh could neither see nor hear Cienna and was a bit worried; but he was fully occupied taking down the Thalmor soldier before him and hoping to avoid the spells sizzling and crackling off to his left.
I can’t use my Voice in here. I can’t! It’s too close and there are too many of us. I’d burn one of my own people. He grimaced and kept hammering at the Thalmor closest to him.
The soldier finally went down. Dardeh swung around to find both Roggi and Falco in a tight knot of enemies. Another Justiciar had joined the fray and was casting a frost spell at Roggi. Dardeh roared and hurled himself at the Justiciar with both swords flying, hoping that Roggi would step back out of the magic’s range; but of course he did not. He merely held his sword up before him, in a blocking stance that Dardeh knew would shortly be followed by the deadly diagonal slash that had ended so many other foes.
The mage in glass armor had faded back toward the exit door and was once again raining lightning bolts down on all of them. Dardeh swung around to his right, intending to take him on, but as he stepped forward an ice spike caught him just under the arm. He gasped, almost blinded for a moment by the pain of it, and looked for its source: one of the Justiciars had stepped back into a more open corner of the room and was firing ice spells one after the other.
Dardeh gritted his teeth and forced himself forward. Even in this more open area he didn’t feel comfortable using a Shout. Instead, he threw all of his weight into a whirling attack that dropped the mage after only a moment or two. Dardeh cast his healing spell and blinked in surprise; a single casting had him feeling almost fully restored. He frowned.
Damn it! I didn’t want to use it! I don’t want Herma Mora in my head! But I had no choice. I don’t have time to rifle around in my pack for a potion.
He looked across the room to see Cienna facing two Thalmor soldiers at once. She was holding her own, slashing with her single sword; but he saw her gathering the icy blue of a frost magic spell into her left hand and knew that meant she was going to need help. He dashed across the short distance between them, felling one of the soldiers by barreling into him and then stabbing him once he was down. Cienna finished the other and then ran back across the room to assist the others.
“You’ll need to do better than that!” Roggi was shouting. Just as he lifted his sword to engage the Justiciar in front of him, a female Thalmor mage in the doorway once again fired sparks at him.
Roggi only taunts people like that if he’s in trouble. Go! Go!
Dardeh practically flew across the room – to the extent his heavy body could fly – and brought his double-edged sword down as hard as he could in a leaping attack that would have done great damage even to a dragon. The mer in glass armor crumpled to the floor, dead. Dardeh swiveled around just in time to see the final Justiciar meet his bloody fate at the hands of all three of his companions.
Everyone stood silent for a moment, just catching their collective breath. Cienna cast a healing spell on herself, and Roggi downed a potion. Falco seemed mostly unscathed, a testament to both the heavy officer’s armor and his own impressive swordsmanship.
“That went pretty well, all things considered,” Roggi said. Dardeh couldn’t help it; he laughed out loud at the familiar refrain.
“I guess so, Roggi. Now then.” He pointed down the short flight of stairs leading to a closed door. “If I know anything about old Imperial buildings it’s that the most secure locations are either at the very top or the very bottom. I’m guessing that’s where we need to go.”
“Yeah the cells and torture room will be down there,” Roggi said matter-of-factly. “I picked up a key off the leader here. Guaranteed it’ll open that door.”
Dardeh slipped him a glance and tried not to shudder. “Right. Let’s go.”
Dardeh let Roggi unlock the door but then pushed him aside, motioning that he himself would take point. On the other side of the door were two branches: the first, directly in front of them, led to another closed door. To the right, though, light and color caught Dardeh’s attention. A short hallway with a set of descending steps at the end led to a lighted room; and, standing just beyond the opening, was another Thalmor.
Dardeh crept forward, but as usual his heavy armor gave him away. He saw the moment in which the mer began drawing in power for a shock attack. The path before him was clear. He drew his breath and let the power erupt from him almost joyously.
“YOL- TOOR SHUL!”
The fireball didn’t kill the mage outright, but Dardeh could see and smell him cooking inside his glass armor as he dropped to one knee. Roggi, Falco, and Cienna rushed past him to attack, and it was only a matter of a few blows before the mer was dead. There was a cage door beside the spot the mage had fallen. Dardeh peered into the area beyond and saw no prisoners. It was clear, though, that they were closing in on their target.
A sound to Dardeh’s right and farther down into the prison had him pulling his swords out defensively. Before he could get fully into the descending stairwell another green-clad Thalmor mage came flying toward him, casting a flame spell. Darden smirked. You don’t know flame, son. But rather than Shout again, he merely knocked the mer to the floor with his weight and lit into him with both weapons.
Dardeh stepped back to set himself for another attack but never got a chance. Falco and Cienna rushed into the room and attacked the Thalmor, keeping him down. Then, out of the shadows behind them, Roggi stepped forward, calmly raised his greatsword, and took one massive, perfectly-placed swing between Falco and Cienna that finished the mer off.
They killed one more Thalmor soldier on their way down through the keep to the main prison area, a large open space full of rows of cages. After taking a turn through it to be sure nobody was imprisoned in them, they returned to the previous room and took the opposite passage. The narrow hallway was well-lighted, and at the far end of it was a female Thalmor walking away from them.
Dardeh grinned. The path was clear; none of his own people were in the way. Once more he allowed the flames within to blast out from him. He could almost hear Paarthurnax saying What will you burn? What will you spare? Not these, he thought. These, I will never spare.
The Thalmor groaned, burned by the Shout but not killed. “Time to finish this!” she taunted from jaws clamped nearly shut.
Dardeh laughed. “Indeed.” And within a few moments, between his swords and those of the people accompanying him, it was well finished.
Around the corner to the left and down one more half-flight of stairs was another large interment area lined with cages, a very well-lighted open space at its far end. The smell of blood was strong in this area and behind him Dardeh heard Roggi grunt as he recognized it, too. They had no time to discuss it, though, as two more Thalmor, a Justiciar and a mage, ran out from the open space.
The mage was a conjuration specialist, a fact that became obvious as a large ball of blue energy revealed a flame atronach. Dardeh snarled and ran toward the mage. It didn’t matter how deadly the Justiciar might be; if he could take down the mage he would also likely dissipate the conjuration as well. He was well on the way to doing so when a fireball caught him square on, burning fiercely, the sound of its explosion deafening him enough that he couldn’t track how the others were doing against the Justiciar as he knew they must be. He couldn’t help but cry out as he felt the skin under his ebony armor begin to cook; but there was no time to heal himself. It was life or death: the Thalmor mage, or him.
Roggi growled. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”
That taunt – for reasons Dardeh would never understand – drew the mage’s attention away from him for just long enough. He had just enough space to slip around behind the mage and slice him to ribbons.
And then the atronach exploded.
Dardeh went down on one knee, yowling in pain. His heart was pounding in his ears; his vision was dimming, his breathing was shallow, and he knew that if he couldn’t somehow cast the healing spell right then he would be dead.
I can’t do it. It’s too hard.
“No! DAR!” he heard Roggi shout.
He nodded – or at least he thought he nodded. It was hard to tell. It felt almost as if he was floating above the body in black armor that knelt on the floor of the cell block. He focused on his hand, as hard as he could, and brought every tiny shred of magic that he owned into it.
Heal. Cast heal.
The feeling of burning inside his skull intensified, and it was as if yet another layer of understanding of healing had been revealed. He released the spell. Comfort washed over him. He gasped, a deep cleansing breath, and raised his head to find Roggi staring at him. Roggi held his greatsword horizontally before his body and was pushing back against the Thalmor Justiciar’s sword. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off his enemy for a moment, but he did, just long enough for Dardeh to see the relief wash over his face.
I won’t leave you, love. I promise.
Dardeh cast another healing spell on himself. This time he felt almost completely well; definitely well enough to rise to his feet and rush toward their final adversary, a female mage in green glass armor.
“Hah! Found you!” she laughed.
Dardeh sneered. And you’re done.
“YOL- TOOR SHUL!”
The woman dropped to the floor, dead.
“Well there,” Roggi murmured. “That’s the end of that. Dar, are you alright?”
Except for having Hermaeus Mora floating around wriggling his tentacles in my brain, I’m super.
“Yeah, I’m ok now. It was close, though. Closer than I’ve been in a long time. I guess I shouldn’t get quite so cocky about my own strength.” He rotated his shoulders around under the heavy armor, trying to relax, and taking stock of the place before them.
The Justiciar had been seated before a rectangular table. Dardeh glanced at it and did a double-take; for the items on it included a saw, a nasty-looking hook, some embalming instruments, leather bindings and – most horrible to his eye – a full set of torture implements in a case much like those that Roggi owned. He glanced at Roggi and saw him staring at the table, his face a stony mask that revealed nothing at all. He wanted to go to Roggi, pull him away from the display; but a cough and a metallic noise on the far side of the room drew his attention.
A large Nord man with steely gray hair hung manacled to the wall. There was blood on the floor all around him and for a moment Dardeh thought they’d been too late and had fought all the way in here to recover a corpse; but then the man coughed again. They all rushed to his side. Falco wrestled with the manacles for a moment until figuring out how to release them. As he was freed, the big Nord collapsed onto the floor, then struggled to rise.
“Let me see if I can walk,” he mumbled. He took a couple of steps forward and shook his head. “So… so dizzy,” he said, dropping down onto his knees and groaning. “So weak. Can’t… can’t walk.”
Falco spoke up. “Cienna, he’s not going to make it if you don’t help him. See what you can do.”
She nodded and raised her arms. Warming magical light flowed out of her hands and surrounded the Nord.
“Hang on, Korst,” she said. “I’ll have you as good as new in a second.”
Healing hands. I wish I’d learned that. Dardeh looked back over his shoulder and saw that Roggi had taken a seat next to the torture tools. He winced. What is he thinking? What kind of thing goes through his mind when he sees those? How can I help him?
He approached Roggi, slowly, watching the blank look on his husband’s face.
“Are you ok?”
“Um…” Roggi glanced sideways at the table and then down to the floor. “No, not really.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. Not unless you can revive one of these bastards and tie him to the rack so I can get in some practice.” Roggi chuckled, and then looked back at Dardeh.
My face must give me away, he thought as Roggi’s eyes widened and his face went pale.
“I’m sorry, Dar. I don’t really mean it. I mean… well…” He trailed off, looking distressed.
Dardeh reached for one of his hands. “Yeah, you do,” he murmured. “I understand, Roggi. It’s ok.”
He was about to say more, but heard the voices behind his back.
“Yes. It’s much better now, Cienna. Thank you.” There was a pause and then he continued. “What are you two doing here?”
“Valerius sent us here to find you and bring you home,” Falco said. “Did you think we would let you rot in here?”
“I didn’t know, Falco. I thought I might die in this stinking place. Are all those guards dead? You killed them all?”
“No, not all of them. Our new friends here are quite the fighters.”
“Yes? Who is this with you? I’ve never seen him before.”
Dardeh was about to respond when Falco cut him off. “A traveler. And a new friend of Marcus Jannus.”
Dardeh chuckled. “Korst, I’m happy to meet you. I’m glad we got here in time. My name is Dardeh and that’s my husband Roggi over there. We live in Falkreath Hold, up near the border of Whiterun, and, well… I’m one of the people who was in Helgen the day Alduin burned it.”
“Korst, you won’t believe it,” Falco said. “Marcus is in Skyrim. And he’s back in Helgen with Valerius.”
“Helgen? I’ll bet Valerius never saw that one coming,” Korst laughed. “Why is Marcus here?”
“I’m not sure, but… something about rebuilding Helgen, I think. Korst, we can talk about that later. We need to go.”
Dardeh glanced back over his shoulder and saw Roggi standing, leaning against the front of the table, inspecting all the grisly tools laid out there.
“Yeah, we really do,” he said. I need to get him away from here. For that matter I need to get me away from here.
“Yes,” Korst agreed. “Let’s get out of here before any more of those Thalmor maggots show up.”
Korst’s gear had been stowed in a chest just beyond the table where Roggi stood. As Korst got himself re-equipped, the rest of them moved in that direction. Dardeh was all ready to move toward the exit when he noticed that the set of torture tools had disappeared from the table. He stopped for a moment, and looked up at Roggi, questioning him silently.
Roggi said nothing. But his face and his eyes carried an expression that said he would not be sharing any thoughts on this issue and did not want to discuss it. Dardeh looked at him for a moment longer, then sighed and nodded. As he passed Roggi on his way toward the exit, he patted him on the shoulder.
“Ah, that’s much better,” Korst said. “Perhaps our new friend here will lead the way.”
“Let’s get going,” Roggi agreed.