Lucia was sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to Roggi, when he went to check on them the next day. She was giggling at his stories and he, propped up on several pillows, looked pale still, even for a pale, blond Nord. They’d been lucky, the healer had told him. The sword had only missed Roggi’s heart by a whisper.
“Papa!” she cried, and ran over to give him a hug.
Dardeh scooped her up onto one of his hips so that she was eye level with him.
“Have you been taking care of Roggi for me?”
She smiled. “Yes, Papa. Lydia told me to make sure he didn’t do anything ridiculous while she went to the market.”
Dardeh looked past Lucia’s head to meet Roggi’s eyes, which were twinkling. They grinned at each other.
“And has he been ridiculous?”
“No he’s been good. I’m very stern when I have to be. But he told me some funny stories, so I didn’t really have to be stern.”
“Oh, and it’s true,” Roggi said in mock solemnity. “Both of them made it clear that Lucia was to be obeyed in all things, so I have been doing my best to, uh, stay put. I know when I’ve met my match.”
Lucia giggled as Dardeh put her down again.
“Why don’t you run and see if you can find Lydia, all right? She probably could use some help.”
“OK, Papa. Now make sure Roggi doesn’t do anything ridiculous.”
Dardeh laughed. “I will. “
Lucia ran down the stairs, and Dardeh sat down on the edge of the bed.
Roggi tried to push himself up, but winced; Dardeh reached out a hand and pushed him gently back down onto the bed.
“Stay put or I’ll tell tales about you when they get back,” he chuckled.
“She’s a sweet little girl, Dar. You did a good thing to give her a home. So, where were you last night?” Roggi asked.
“Bannered Mare, for all the good it did me. I keep having these dreams about….” He trailed off, frowning.
“About what?”
“My father.”
Roggi frowned. “I thought you didn’t know him. In fact Dag said he died when she was just a child.”
Dardeh met his eyes. “That’s right. I never met him. But now I know what he looks like.”
“Well that’s just strange as can be. So… what does he look like?”
Dardeh grinned. “He looks just like I would if I had darker skin and hair and was about ten years older.” Then he was seized by an idea. “And this.” He reached up and started unbraiding his hair. It stood out on his head in bunches like great unruly sausages. Redguard hair, only blonde.
Roggi tilted his head to one side. “That’s … interesting. It would take some getting used to, to be sure. But he wouldn’t look much like a Nord.”
Dardeh rolled his eyes. “Because he’s Redguard, foolish. I got the blonde from my Ma.” He ran his hand over his hair, shook his head, and started working it back into braids. “I’d best fix this. I don’t want to scare everyone,” he said, snickering.
Roggi chuckled, and then winced as he moved the wrong way. “What do you think it means?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s Miraak. The one those Cultists keep yelling about, when they try to kill me. Or you.” He felt the anger stirring in him again, the embers of the fire flickering back to life. “I have to get rid of him. My father told me to go kill him, with his swords. These swords, the ones I carry all the time.”
Roggi frowned. “Where did you say this Miraak was?”
“Solstheim.”
Roggi sighed. “Gosh, I don’t know if I’m well enough to go to Solstheim right now.”
Dardeh shook his head. “You’re not. You almost died, Roggi, you’re not well enough to fight a training dummy in Jorrvaskr’s back yard right now. You’re going to stay here and recover, and if you feel better in awhile and I’m not home yet, you can go back to Kynesgrove if you want, but I’m going after Miraak.”
Roggi looked alarmed.
“But Dar, I thought you wanted me to help you…”
“I do. Or at least I’d hoped you’d travel with me. I can’t really ask you to fight my battles.” You have no idea how much I want to have you with me. “But you can’t travel right now. I won’t let you. Listen, Roggi, it’s my fault you’re hurt. Those Miraak cultists are after me. If I stay here and try to do anything else – visit Balgruuf, catch a dragon, anything else – other people are going to get hurt, too, specifically because of me. I can’t have that. I won’t have it. How could I live with myself if something happened to any of these people in Whiterun? Or any of your friends in Kynesgrove? I just couldn’t stand it.”
Roggi nodded slowly. “So what does this have to do with your father?”
Dardeh met his eyes again. He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure he trusted his voice. It was the same sort of feeling he’d gotten fighting Alduin, when the Fire Breath shout had erupted from him almost without any thought on his part, an overwhelming blaze of anger that wanted to consume everything in its path. This was not quite as overwhelming, but it had been building ever since he started talking about Miraak, and it threatened to take over if he didn’t get it under control fast. He had to take several deep breaths to damp it down.
“My father. Dadarh at-Jine. I saw him. He said we’re from a long line, and when men stand in our way, we kill them all. He told me to kill Miraak. I saw another ancestor, too. Jine af-Avik. I don’t know whether he was my grandfather or farther back than that, but he said the same thing.”
“I… uh… thought you liked being a Nord,” Roggi said quietly.
Dardeh frowned. “I am a Nord, Roggi. It’s all I know. But I’m a strange Nord, aren’t I. I don’t like killing. That’s why I won’t take a side in the war. It’s all so needless.” He met Roggi’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you did take a side but I just can’t.”
Roggi shook his head. “I did. But then I left. Don’t worry about it.”
Dardeh nodded. “This is different, somehow. I don’t know why. But I have to do it. Miraak has to die, and every one of his Cultists along with him.” He found himself speaking through gritted teeth, almost growling, by the time he reached the end of his statement.
Except that I do know why. I have to kill Miraak because he almost took you and I won’t have it. I simply won’t. Those Cultists died for it and so will he.
Roggi’s reaction surprised him. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Dardeh for several long moments, scanning him. He didn’t seem surprised, or shocked in any way. Finally he nodded. “I understand,” he said softly. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Your sister said the same thing. About needing to set things right. I know that feeling too. Sometimes that is just what has to be done. I can see it in you.”
He looked back at Dardeh and gave him a lopsided, sad smile. “Well I guess that’s it, then. I had hoped I’d be travelling with you for a while longer, but I guess I’m just not cut out for it.”
What is this? Does he think I’m discarding him or something?
“You will be, when I get back. That is, if you haven’t come to your senses and thought better of it by then.”
Roggi nodded, but Dardeh thought he seemed sad.
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t have any idea. I don’t know what I’m going to face there, and I don’t know the island at all. I barely knew it existed until recently. Heck, I was more or less prepared going to Hammerfell – maps and everything — and it took me near forever to make it back to Skyrim.” He tried to smile, but felt how false the attempt was even without seeing it. “I can’t take long. There’s this small business of a black dragon.”
“Yeah,” Roggi said, his gaze wandering away from Dardeh.
He’s really sad about this, isn’t he?
“Look, you know I’m going to come looking for you the second I get back, right?”
“Sure.”
“Roggi, I…”
“So are you going to let me feed the patient? Do I have to kick you out?” Dardeh hadn’t even heard Lydia come back. She was standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of something that had steam rising from its top.
“Move out of the way, Papa,” Lucia said. “You’re being ridiculous.” She was carrying a small board with sliced bread and cheese on top.
Dardeh grinned. “Ridiculous is the word of the day, I take it. Okay, okay, I’m moving.” He got off the bed and stood nearby, watching the two women fuss over Roggi just as though he was part of the family.
“I’m not really hungry,” he started to protest.
“And you’ll eat anyway, because you know better. War wounds require protein to heal, and something filling, and you’ll eat every drop of this or I’ll sit here until you do,” Lydia said. Lucia nodded and solemnly put a slice of bread with cheese under Roggi’s nose, and finally he smiled at them, chuckled, opened his mouth, and took a bite.
Dardeh smiled and went downstairs to start preparing. Roggi would be fine with them to watch out for him. And, he thought with just a twinge of jealousy, he’ll probably enjoy looking at Lydia. And who knows what else might happen. He sighed. I suppose I would have to be happy for them, wouldn’t I.
He readied himself for the journey. Lydia was none too pleased that he was leaving again but seemed to understand it when he explained that the Cultists would continue to be a danger to everyone around them until he was able to take care of them. If Roggi got restless and wanted to return to Kynesgrove she was to make sure he took the carriage to Windhelm instead of trying to travel the whole way on foot. He would send messages as often as he could.
He sat with Lucia for a long while, talking to her about his going away, promising that he wouldn’t be killed the way her real father was and feeling horrible about the fact that he had no way to know that and was making an empty promise. What if I am killed? Will she hate the memory of me forever? Will she even remember me, after a few years? I’ve been gone more than I’ve been home since I adopted her.
He decided to leave in the middle of the night so that there would be no opportunity for tears, or recriminations, or anything else. He stood at the foot of his own bed and watched Roggi snoring gently, wincing when he moved and the wound pulled the wrong way. Roggi’s a good bit older than me, he thought, and it’s going to take him longer to recover because of it. But I’m coming back for you. Don’t doubt it for a second. I’m coming back for you and I’m never letting you out of my sight again. Unless…it turns out that you want me to.
He stood for a long while watching Lydia sleep, thanking her silently once again for taking care of his household. The two of them would make a good couple, if it turned out that way.
His face fell for a moment. Well I’ve thrown them together, haven’t I. And both of them deserve a little warmth and companionship. I don’t really have any standing to complain if that’s what happens.
We’ll see how it goes.
And then he stood in the doorway of Lucia’s room, smiling at the fact that she was there, warm and safe, and at the fact that her pet fox also stood guard over her slumber. I’m not a very good Da, little one, but I will do everything I can to make you a good life.
He was about three-quarters of the way to Windhelm when another pod of three Cultists attacked him.
He never knew what, exactly, happened. He remembered pulling his swords and roaring, a great, incoherent sound that washed over him, filling his ears with the rushing of his own blood; and then there was one charred body, another in ribbons from scimitar wounds and a third without a head.
He wasn’t certain what he, himself, must have looked like after that battle. What he did know was that in Windhelm, Captain Gjolund Salt-Sage, who wasn’t keen on the idea of sailing back to Solstheim, gulped and changed his tune quickly when he said “You brought those people to Skyrim. They tried to kill me, and they almost killed my friend. You’re taking me to Solstheim.”
He settled at the bow of the ship and faced into the wind, hoping that the salt air would do something to cool the flames.