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

Chapter 12: Roggnavar

Roggnavar watched the sunrise from the hayloft. The jagged points of the mountains hidden in the clouds. Mist poured down through the corpses of pine. The air smelled of morning dew. His chickens clucked about in their pens. The pigs snorted and rolled in the mud. A cow mooed.

He set down the pitchfork and dunked his dirty hands into the trough. He bent over and his face twisted in pain. Just above his tailbone felt like someone had wedged a needle into him. He rose slowly, then Rogger shook his hands off and massaged his back.

"Morning, husband," giggled Valeria holding a basket of laundry in her hand. Her hair and clothes disheveled.

She leaned forward and puckered out her lips. He caved in and gave her a long kiss.

"Getting washed?"

"You should come with," she said playfully, then kissed him again. "More swordplay today?"

Rogger chuckled and straightened his tunic. "Aye, Caius wants to give it another go."

Valeria's smile went away when she touched her fingers to the bruises on his arms. He winced at her touch.

"You're not letting yourself recover. You're rushing."

"I don't have much time."

She looked up at Rogger and tilted her head to the side.

"Please," Valeria said. "It pains me to see you come home at night barely able to walk sometimes."

"I know." Rogger said as he took her cheeks. "But I can't live knowing your in danger. You mean everything to me. You and," he gestured to her stomach with his eyes. "And if it'll be a him or her. I have to."

"I know you do. This is important." Valeria stroked his chin with her thumb. "Just come back to me in one piece, please."

"I promise."

"On your parents?"

"On my parents."

***

He didn't keep his promise, and he paid the price. The boat the Thalmor had dragged him in creaked and groaned, the smell of the sea and salt nauseating. 

His hands were bound behind his back and a gag was choking him. When he opened his eyes, he sat behind iron bars and there was a single Altmer guard outside on a chair reading.

Boots thumped down the stairs and Granor appeared. The guard sitting at the chair snapped to attention his feet and saluted.

"At ease," Granor said.

The Altmer stood on the other side of the bars looking in with a devilish grin. "My, my, the Dragonborn. I am curious as to why you didn't use your shout?" His eyes examined Rogger thoroughly. "Lost your tongue? Your voice? I am sure my superiors would be glad to hear that but it won't spare you from the horrible pain we will inflict on you.

"Oh yes," he continued chuckling. "We will give you a lot of pain. At that point you will be begging to your false Gods and then for death. When you invaded our embassy for that Blade's agent, you killed someone very dear to me. My brother. Remember that? They found you lurking in the dungeon after masquerading as a party guest. My brother was a good fighter and only luck saved you that night."

Rogger had remembered that night. He remembered the Altmer he hacked down in the basement of the embassy.

"I have my vengeance. And you? You shall have your death. I will see to that personally."

Granor straightened his back with a loud crack. He groaned and massaged his back.

Bells from the deck above rung. Men shouted and the two Altmer looked around frantically.

"What's happening," the Guard said as he drew his sword.

Suddenly, something crashed into the ship. All three men were flung to the floor. Wood creaked and groaned. There were more shouts and war cries from above.

"Fucking Nords," Granor snarled.

He drew his dagger from his belt and stumbled up the stairs. He turned before disappearing at the top and pointed to Rogger.

"Watch him."

The Guard nodded.

Granor vanished up the stairs. Rogger backed up against the wall of the ship. He noticed the Altmer guard shake.

Steel rang above the deck. More screams. croaks. Then it all stopped.

Every noise stopped. Only the ship creaked and groaned. The Altmer backed into the bars and startled himself. Rogger tried to get the Altmer's attention with his grunts through the gag but the Altmer ignored him.

Books and armor jingled from the stairs. They thumped loudly. First the armored grieves. Then the body of a man in a brigandine appeared. Rogger worked furiously to undo the rope around his wrists.

The Altmer charged, swinging his sword longways.

The Elven sword clattered against the brigandine. A muffled chuckle steamed through the helmet. The armored man's thick hands wrapped around the Altmer's neck and raised him off the ground. Rogger undid the rope. The Altmer's neck snapped and his body thundered to the wood floor.

"What have we here?" Thirbald said in a thick Eastmarch accent. "What a coincidence. Baklaf would be happy."

He snatched the keys off the corpse and unlocked the bars. He ducked under the top of the cell and straightened himself over Rogger.

He guided Rogger up the deck to see the carnage he and his men had committed. The mast was on fire. Embers followed the wind. The deck was covered in sea spray and blood. Vampires roamed the ship, impaling the Altmer that tried to struggle. The others that were too crippled to struggle, were fed upon. Baklaf bent Granor over his knee and sucked the blood out of the Altmer's neck with a loud slurp. When the Mer stopped convulsing, he threw him casually across the deck.

"Look who I found," Thirbald said.

Baklaf turned to see Rogger. His cherry red lips creased and he wiped the blood that covered his chin.

"What a surprise. Guess fate does have a way of bringing us together after all." He took another step forward. "Your flesh..." he peeled down Rogger's collar and examined his neck and shoulder. He licked the blood off his lips. "I wonder what the blood of a dragon would taste like."

Baklaf's cheek cracked as Rogger's fist whirled from behind his back. The vampire twisted and staggered back towards the railing. In the same moment Thirbald tried to hold Rogger but the spry human spun out of his reach. A Vampire charged from across the deck, holding his sword high. Rogger ducked, spun, and wrapped his arms around the Vampire's chin and twisted. As the Vampire fell, he snatched the sword out of its hand. As another raced down from the bow, he hoisted the spear like a javelin into its chest.

The wind carried Hjonar behind Rogger. The human turned but a balled staff struck him had in the gut. Rogger reeled over, his legs gave out. He fell to all fours. The Vampire mage kicked him in the side with a pointed metal boot. The human rolled onto his back, groaning in pain. Thirbald rolled his shoulders, then charged for Rogger when Baklaf's voice boomed through the air.

"Enough," Baklaf hollered as he massaged the side of his pale face. "Leave him be."

"But he-"

"I said no. Harkon wants him."

Thirbald bowed his head and stepped back.

Hjonar slammed the bottom of his staff against the deck and pressed his boot on Rogger's chest.

Baklaf took his helmet from the mage and pulled his over his head. "Tomorrow, human, you will experience a suffering unimaginable. Then we will flay you and feast upon you."

"Get over with it," Rogger said between pained breaths.

Baklaf only smiled.

"Soon," said Baklaf, "you will be begging for death. Just you wait."