Skyrim: The Last Dragonborn (The Dragonborn Saga: Book 1)

Chapter 10: Roggnavar

Telik didn't say much as his trade ship rocked against the waves. The wind was going North, so Roggnavar rowed hard against the churning and unforgiving Ghost Sea and Kyne's breath. Telik grunted and swore at the steering oar. 

When he was a younger man, Roggnavar had joined a ships crew and even joined in a rowing competition. But that was when he was a younger man. Not scarcely older than twenty-six winters, his body and muscles ached as he heaved and pulled the oars until his hands blistered and the oars were slick with his blood. There were three other sailors, none of them had sailed with Telik before, but were from different merchant vessels. Their masters and companions were either slaughtered by the vampires or taken prisoner, so Telik was their new master. 

Despite being Nords, they froze at the oars. Seaspray soaked what little clothes they wore followed by a vicious wind. The waves, large, tall, and black, struck the merchant vessel like a shield wall trying to topple its enemy. Roggnavar and another sailor snatched up buckets and baled the salty and foamy water out from the bowels of the vessel. 

Another crash of the sea, a great lurch, sent Roggnavar against the edge of the vessel when one of the sailors grabbed him by the edge of his breeches. 

They shared a chuckle of relief, then went back to work.

They knew they cleared the worst of the ocean when they saw the flickering lights of Sea Point through the fog. Roggnavar felt some warmth return to his body. 

The warmth went as quickly as it came. 

The mountains on the coastline of Haafingar started to define themselves through the murky black waters. Lights flickered through the fog and sea spray. Sea Point was a popular fishing village for ships journeying along the Ghost Sea to stop and rest before heading back out to go East towards Solitude, North to the Islands, or west to civilization in High Rock. 

But Sea Point wasn't a great village with a dozen or so Hearths. Not nearly big enough to shine as much light through the fog as it did. 

The village was on fire. 

"We have to turn back," said one of the sailors. "Make our way back to Solitude."

"I agree," Telik said.

"No." Roggnavar twisted to see Telik squinting through the seaspray, mist, and fog. "Get me close enough and I'll go ashore. Then you can go wherever you'd like."

"Your funeral pyre, boy."

Telik got as close to shore as he could to let Roggnavar over the edge and onto the pebbled shore. The vampires, if they were the cause of Sea Point's burning, were long gone. They probably would have seen the massive black ship before they saw the fire. 

The sailors used the oars to push off the coast and let the waves rock them into the murky waters before rowing Eastward. 

Roggnavar carried himself up the beach past overturned fishing boats, wet nets, and bodies strewn along the outskirts of the fence-wall. The guards in their ring mail shirts were slashed and painted over in their own blood. The people suffered a worse fate. The animals in their pens hand their guts spilled into the frozen dirt. The barns were broken open, food littered about. It couldn't have been soldiers or pirates because the attackers weren't interested in plunder.

Roggnavar knelt by the body of an elderly man who held a young boy in his arms. Three arrows stuck out of the boy's red back. The elderly man laid in a pool of his own blood from a slash across his chest.

Then there was the sound of hands clapping together. They crackled through the air. Roggnvar's head snapped up the dirt path inside the village.

"My, my," rang a voice with a very, very, distinct accent.