Luke Velaryon: The Last Dragonborn C10 (Patreon)

Chapter 10: Escaping Helgen  Part V

Hadvar had said the passage lay beneath the keep, so they headed for the lower levels. 

They had barely descended a flight of stairs when the dragons’ roars echoed overhead, sounding much closer than before, but what followed was a much more terrifying sound: something big crashing against the keep somewhere above them. 

The three of them looked up and saw the ceiling trembling, then the stones began to crack. 

"Get down!" Hadvar shouted.

He threw himself in front of them, raising his shield just as chunks of masonry crashed from above. The impact nearly drove him to one knee, but he held on. 

Dust exploded through the corridor, and for several seconds the only sounds were the falling debris and the dragon’s roars. When the shaking stopped, Luke coughed and brushed the dust from his face. 

“Are you alright?” Luke asked Hadvar.

"Aye." Hadvar lowered his shield and flexed his arm, looking at where a dark bruise was already forming. "Nothing broken."

"It's just a flesh wound," Ralof said with a shrug. "Let's move."

Luke eyed the growing bruise.

"Are you sure? That looks painful."

"Aye." Hadvar patted Luke's shoulder. "I've had worse. Come on, we need to find that passage."

The corridor ahead was blocked by fallen stone, so they diverted through a door to their left, which led into a storeroom. 

"Search the place," Hadvar said as he began rummaging through shelves. "See if you can find more potions. We'll probably need them." 

Luke and Ralof spread out and several minutes later Luke had gathered a small collection of vials. Two were the same reddish potions Hadvar and Ralof had given him earlier, and three smaller vials appeared to contain a weaker version of the same potion. He also found two blue potions, six green ones, and a single clear vial whose purpose he could only guess at.

More importantly, he found food. The moment he spotted a rack of dried meat, his stomach growled loudly, and only then did he realize just how hungry he was. 

He had not eaten since... He had to stop and think about it. Dragonstone. Yes, since he left home, which was... A day ago? Maybe two, depending on how long he had been unconscious before awaking in the wagon this morning. 

Without a second thought, he snatched up a strip of dried meat and began devouring it. Future Luke could worry about manners; present Luke was far too hungry to care as he crammed as much food into his mouth as possible.

A moment later, he added some cheese and fruit to the feast, and before moving on, he tucked several extra portions into his satchel.

When he rejoined the others, he saw Ralof with a chunk of cheese in one hand and a strip of dried meat in the other. It was obvious that the Nord had been just as hungry. 

"Good haul?" Ralof asked between bites.

Hadvar looked at the pair with a raised eyebrow.

"Is this really the time to eat?"

"Haven't had anything since yesterday. You Imperial dogs didn't even give us the decency of one last meal before taking our heads." Ralof snorted.

Hadvar rolled his eyes.

"You still have your head, don't you?"

Luke opened the door and hurried forward before Ralof and Hadvar could continue bickering. One would think fighting side by side had put an end to their fighting but no...

After descending another flight of stairs, they entered what looked to be a torture chamber where they saw several Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers locked in combat.

"Enough!" Hadvar shouted, but no one listened. 

"A dragon is slaughtering people outside!" Ralof bellowed. "We can kill each other after we saved the people of the town!"

The torturer laughed.

“A dragon? Please.” The torturer scoffed. “Don’t make up nonsense.” His hands began to glow, and the nearest Stormcloak raised his weapon, but he needn't do anything, for a sword crossed the room in a blur and buried itself in the torturer's throat.

The man staggered backward, clutching at the steel protruding from his neck before collapsing to the floor.

Silence fell over the chamber, and every head turned toward Hadvar. The sergeant strode forward and ripped the sword free.

"I said enough." His voice was cold. "A dragon is destroying Helgen, people are dying as we speak, and their only hope is a passage beneath this keep."

He pointed his bloodied sword around the room.

"You can help us save them." The point settled briefly on an Imperial soldier. "Or you can keep fighting." It shifted toward a Stormcloak. "And die down here like idiots."

The torturer's assistant swallowed.

"Forget Brutus," he said. "My wife and children are still in Helgen."

That gave everyone pause, as both soldiers and Stormcloaks exchanged looks. 

"So is my niece." A Stormcloak lowered his axe.

"My grandmother," said an Imperial soldier, lowering his sword.

"My father."

"My cousins."

The tension gradually eased, and weapons were lowered throughout the room. For the moment, the war for Skyrim and its lingering grudges were set aside as the men united behind a greater cause: protecting their families.

Hadvar nodded.

"Good. Grab whatever supplies you can carry." He pointed deeper into the dungeon. "I'll search for the entrance to the passage." 

With that, Hadvar headed farther into the dungeon to look for the entrance to the passage while everyone else gathered supplies.

"Looks like there's something in this cage."

Luke turned toward Ralof. Inside the cell lay the body of a young man who could not have been much older than himself. The corpse wore faded blue robes, now stained with dirt and dried blood.

Luke swallowed. The dead were becoming disturbingly common today.

"A mage's apprentice," the torturer's assistant said.

"What was his crime?" Luke asked.

"He tried to sell a Dwemer artifact."

"A Dwemer artifact?"

"The Dwemer were a race who vanished during the First Era," Ralof explained. "They built vast cities beneath the earth. Their ruins still stand to this day, filled with machines, traps, and treasures."

"And enough dangers to kill most treasure hunters who go looking for them," the assistant added.

"Is it illegal to sell something you find in a ruin?" Luke asked.

"Imperial law." Ralof snorted. "Anything recovered from Dwemer ruins officially belongs to the Emperor."

"You're jesting."

"I wish I was."

Luke looked back at the corpse.

"And that carries a death sentence?"

"No." The assistant shook his head, his expression grim. "At least, it shouldn't."

He looked away.

"Brutus threw him in the cage while waiting for the paperwork. Then he lost the key."

"He lost the key?" Luke stared at him blankly. 

The assistant rubbed the back of his neck.

"I tried to convince him to break the lock, but the old fool refused.”

Luke looked back at the young mage. That boy had survived whatever machines and monsters guarded those ancient cities only to starve to death in a cage, speak about bad luck… 

"Of course he did," Ralof muttered. "Luke, see if you can find some lockpicks."

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Mages' robes are enchanted." Ralof shrugged.

"Enchanted?"

"Aye. Worth a fair bit of coin, too. And you're going to need all the coin you can get."

Luke looked at the body again. Taking clothes from a corpse felt wrong, then again, the dead apprentice certainly had no use for them anymore. And if the robes were truly enchanted... Well, he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious.

***

In the Torturer’s office, he found several books that caught his attention: Biography of the Wolf Queen, A Brief History of the Empire Part I, The Cabin in the Woods, Reality & Other Falsehoods, Arcana Restored: A Handbook,... 

"This backpack will serve you well." 

Luke nearly dropped the books as something flew toward him. He caught it awkwardly and looked up to find Ralof grinning. The Nord must have entered the office while he was distracted by the books. 

He examined the backpack, and the first thing he noticed was that it was far lighter than it should have been, even empty, a bag that size should have weighed something. 

"It’s a Bag of Holding."

"A what?"

“A bag enchanted to stay light no matter how much you're carrying, and bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside. ” Ralof said. “Some mage started calling them Bags of Holding back in the First or Second Era, and the name just stuck.” 

Luke opened it, and nothing about the interior seemed unusual. He slipped the books inside and was astonished to find that the bag's weight remained unchanged. Curious, he placed his own satchel into it as well, yet it stayed just as light as before.

"I found the lockpicks." Ralof held up several thin metal tools. "Come on."

After stuffing a few more useful items into the enchanted bag, Luke followed him back to the cell.

"Ever picked a lock before?" Ralof asked.

When Luke shook his head, the Nord spent several minutes explaining the basics, adding that it was a skill that might prove useful later.

"I do not intend to become a thief," Luke said. Part of him wondered how Ralof had learned to pick locks in the first place, especially given how critical he seemed of thieves, judging by the way he had treated poor Lokir.

"That's good, but any decent adventurer needs to know how to pick a lock. Otherwise, he might find himself trapped in some old ruin with no way out."

"Speaking from experience?" 

"Something like that. Now, do you want to give it a try?"

"Aye." The skill might prove useful, so he took the lockpicks and tried to unlock the cell. The first attempt failed, so did the second and the third. By the fourth attempt, he had snapped two lockpicks.

"The metal's intentionally thin," Ralof repeated. "Needs to fit inside the lock. Force it too much and it'll break."

After several more attempts, Luke finally felt something click, and the lock opened.

"Well done!" Ralof clapped him on the shoulder. "Now get those robes."

Luke grimaced. Taking clothes from a corpse... Before he could make up his mind, footsteps echoed through the dungeon.

"I found the passage!" Hadvar emerged from a corridor accompanied by several soldiers. "Gather your belongings and let's move."

"Hurry, cub," Ralof urged.

Luke sighed and, defeated by practicality, greed, and curiosity in roughly equal measure, he stepped into the cell.

"Sorry about this," he muttered.

He quickly removed the apprentice's robes and folded them as respectfully as circumstances allowed, after which he offered a brief prayer for the boy's soul. A moment later he emerged from the cage carrying a dead man's clothes. 

Luke stared at the bundle in his arms.

"From prince to grave robber in less than two days." He shook his head. "Kepa would never let me hear the end of this."

***

Author’s Note: Luke is learning the most essential skill of any Elder Scrolls protagonist: looting. 

Also, Luke is absolutely not going to become a thief. He has morals, principles, and a healthy respect for the law. Stealing is wrong! It's illegal and- Ah, Brynjolf, my old friend! How have you been? 

OMAKE 

Some moment in time, maybe the future, maybe an alternative universe: 

"Never should have come here."

"In my defense," Luke said while sprinting away with an entire household's silverware, "the door was unlocked."