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

Chapter 16: Roggnavar

The black ship reeked of rotten flesh, blood, and vomit. Roggnavar's back was pressed to the hull as the ship rocked violently against the waves. He had vomited twice already, clutching his stomach and trying to bite it back. His entire body ached, the bruises turned yellow, and his mouth tasted like he sucked on a piece of copper. 

Vampires. He had heard the stories, was sure he might have seen one or two though he might not have been aware of it before. But to be this organized? To look as if they had a holding somewhere in Skyrim?

They had stuffed him in an iron cage - one of what seemed like hundreds. Villagers, soldiers, sailors - men, women, and children. All frightened. All sobbing and stained black with dried blood. They were mostly Nord, mostly plump. 

They were livestock. 

Roggnavar shuddered to think about how many vampires required this many people for livestock. Worse, vampires in black armor over crimson tunics and brown hose patrolled the aisles with jagged iron swords. Their candle-lit eyes scanned the prisoners like they were cattle on their way to the slaughter. 

In his iron cage were five men stripped to their patched tunics and hoses. They had introduced themselves as Jof, Defrik, Gilden, Osst, and Halfdan. Gilden was nearly the same age as Roggnavar, give or take, lean and as tall with a proud face and golden hair. Osst was the oldest, his hair graying but his body was still lean enough to be considered cattle - Roggnavar guessed. 

They knew nothing of Lofton or its villagers. Gilden and Osst were from Sea Point, though, they knew of each other but had never really met. Jof was a fisherman when the vampires had seized him and Defrik was a Stormcoak who was caught on a foraging party or so he said. 

"We need to escape," Roggnavar said.

Defrik made a coughing sound in the back of his throat. Jof chuckled cynically. Osst appeared to be sleeping. But Gilden raised an ear.

"Impossible," the golden-haired Nord said. "We'd get cut down even if we managed a way out of this cage."

Roggnavar looked at the rows of iron cages. The prisoners packed together in their own piss and shit. The vampires that patrolled the rows. Then, a horn sounded. 

The upper decks thundered with boots and many of the vampires on their level and made for the stairs leaving one or two to stand guard. Gilden gripped the iron bars and pressed his ear through to get some kind of idea of what was happening. 

"What's going on?" Jof asked.

"I don't know."

Roggnavar had considered using his thu'um to break out, but how? If anything, he'd likely drown himself or crush himself with the sudden rushing of water. He was a mage, and probably could get the gate open, but how would they escape?

Something slammed into the boat, and hard. Everyone in their cages were tossed about as the ship lurched towards its side, then recovered. Smaller thumps sounded like taps on the hull above. There was shouting, the scraping of steel and wood. The boards holding the blackship growned. 

"It's a battle!" Osst proclaimed, snapping out of his slumber. "We could escape while they're distracted."

"How do we do that?" Jof snarled.

With his hands, Osst cradled a small rolling ball of fire the size of a fist. Jof and Defrik backed against the iron bars and someone from the other cage next to them looked on with excitement. 

"Free us," someone hissed. 

"Put it away," Roggnavar snapped. "It'll draw attention."

"Too late," Gilden growled. 

One of the armored vampires walked in their direction, sword drawn. He wore a hood and all Roggnavar could see was his blood-red eyes and the tip of his milk-white nose. 

"Gilden," Roggnavar said in a whisper. "I'll hold him, you get the keys."

Gilden gave a nod. When the vampire came towards the iron cell, he glared at Osst. "So we have a mage, do we?"

"We do," Roggnavar answered. With two fingers together, he raised them to the sky with a crackling. The vampire took a step back but Gilden and Defrik took him by the edges of his clothes. Roggnavar's fingers flared and he directed a bolt of lightening into the vampire's hand, blasting it and the sword across the prison level. Roggnavar took the vampire by the neck and pulled him against the iron bars. Gilden grabbed the keys. 

"Let me," said Osst as flames consumed his hands. 

The Nords stepped back as Osst wrapped the fire around the vampire's face. It gave a horried shriek as the older Nord melted its face, its once milk-white flesh curling into black flakes and dots of fire. 

Jof retched and Defrik pinched his nose. Gilden already had the gate open and slammed through it, knocking the smoldering body aside.

Hundreds of voices seemed to cry out for the five men to free them. Roggnavar raced to the sword, kicking the charred hand aside and bringing it up with both hands as Vampires came down the stairs from the upper levels.

"Now what?" Defrik asked with half-amusement. 

"To the stairs!" Gilden said, pointing. "We'll slaughter them and get out that way."

"Behind us!" Jof cried.

Osst coughed. Roggnavar swung around to see a speartip soaked in blood run through Osst's chest. The old man coughed again, spitting blood all over the floor. His hands swam in fire. 

"Run!" Roggnavar shouted, pushing past the other men so he could clear a way through the vampires. 

He didn't see what happened, but felt the tendrils of flame lick his heels, warm his back. There were dozens of screams worse than anything he had ever heard. The tip of the heavy iron sword found its mark in the neck of one vampire. 

There were too many streaming towards them. Roggnavar looked at the terrified faces in the cages. At the men who huddled behind their new protector. Back at the vampires brandishing their weapons. 

There's only one way to save them. But he didn't want to do it.

He had no other choice, either he died with his blood being sucked out of his body or he drowned.