Luke Velaryon: The Last Dragonborn C14 (Patreon)

Chapter 14: Road to Riverwood 

Luke did not know how long he remained there on his knees, staring at the two moons hanging above the forests of Skyrim. Minutes, perhaps, maybe longer. His thoughts felt distant and sluggish, as though his mind simply refused to process what his eyes were seeing.

Every explanation he had clung to since waking in the wagon had shattered: he wasn't in some distant, undiscovered continent—he wasn't even on the same world.

"There you are, lad."

Luke barely registered Hadvar's voice.

"Thought you might have joined Ralof for a momen—" The Imperial soldier stopped speaking, and his eyes widened. "Damn it."

Before Luke could react, Hadvar grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him behind a large boulder. The movement snapped him out of his daze. He saw from the corner of his eye something move high above them, and then he heard a distant roar. 

Luke looked up just in time to see the black dragon flying overhead. The massive beast crossed the night sky above them before disappearing among the distant peaks.

Hadvar remained crouched for several seconds, and only when the dragon vanished completely did he finally release a breath.

"Looks like it's gone for good this time." He stood and offered Luke a hand. 

Luke stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it. Hadvar pulled him back to his feet, and as Luke brushed dirt from his clothes, another voice echoed through his mind.

When you're lost, pick a direction and keep moving. Panic kills faster than the sea. Survive first. Understand later.

Luke closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

The Sea Snake was right; there would be time to panic later. The wilderness was full of dangers just as Ralof had said, and the dragon had proven how close he had come to dying again. Had Hadvar not dragged him under cover, the beast might have spotted him and decided to finish him off.

He needs to keep his wits about him. 

"You alright, Luke?"

"Aye." Luke nodded. "Ralof and the others left a few hours ago."

"And you didn't go with them."

Luke shook his head.

"I said I'd only accompany them to the cave entrance."

"Aye." Hadvar patted his shoulder. "You did."

His expression softened.

"You handled yourself well." Hadvar shuddered and rubbed the back of his neck. "We found the nests while making our way through the passage. Of all the creatures in Skyrim, frostbite spiders are..."

He grimaced, and Luke nodded. 

"Aye." No further explanation was needed, the two shared a brief look of mutual understanding.

Hadvar glanced toward the cave behind them.

"And those bears in the last cavern." His expression brightened. "They'll keep the people of Helgen fed for tonight."

Luke nodded.

"Saw you gathered wood too."

"Thought it might be useful."

"You thought right."

After a moment of hesitation, Luke asked: 

"How- how many?"

The Imperial soldier's expression darkened.

"There are a little over twelve hundred civilians sheltering in the passage now."

Luke grimaced.

"In total?"

Hadvar was silent for several moments.

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Some escaped before the gates were blocked and fled into the wilderness. But the estimates aren't good."

They remained silent, and the words hung between them. 

Twelve hundred survivors sounded like a lot until one considered how many had not survived. Helgen had held at least nine times that number that very morning, and now the town was gone, with most of its people dead.

There was nothing either could say that would make it better.

"What will happen to the survivors now?"

Hadvar folded his arms across his chest.

"Word's already been sent to Legate Skulnar. He'll speak with Jarl Siddgeir about relocating the people of Helgen."

"And then?"

"They'll be divided among the settlements of Falkreath Hold." Hadvar shrugged. "Some will stay with relatives. Others will try their luck elsewhere. Depends on what they have left."

Luke frowned.

"They won't rebuild the town?"

"Not likely." Hadvar's expression turned sour. "Helgen was a military town first and foremost. Without the garrison, there isn't much reason for the Jarl to spend the coin rebuilding it."

He snorted.

"And Siddgeir likes his gold far too much to spend it unless he absolutely must."

Luke made a face.

Lords like that did not deserve to rule. A ruler's duty was to protect and provide for his people; that was one of the first lessons he had been taught as a boy. Of course he knew that many lords did not live by that ideal; most thought very little of the smallfolk. More than a few of those men were part of his mother's circle, and even among those who claimed to care for their people, many were better at speaking of their duties than actually fulfilling them.

"What about you, lad?" Hadvar asked. "What's next for you?"

Luke looked toward the forest.

"Ralof said the court wizard of Whiterun might be able to help me."

"Aye."

"So I'll head there first."

Hadvar nodded approvingly.

"That's a good plan." He adjusted his sword belt. "As it happens, Legate Rikke wants me in Whiterun as well. Someone needs to warn Jarl Balgruuf about the dragon."

Luke looked at him.

"So we're going to Whiterun?"

"Aye." A small smile tugged at Hadvar's lips. "If you don't mind the company."

Relief washed through Luke, as Ralof had said Hadvar would be heading towards Whiterun. Travelling with someone familiar sounded infinitely preferable to wandering through Skyrim alone.

"That would be great."

"Aye." Hadvar chuckled. "Thought you might say that."

Hadvar glanced toward the dark forest surrounding them before looking back at him.

"Well, lad. Are you ready?"

Luke stared at him with a frown. 

"What?"

Hadvar raised an eyebrow.

"We're leaving."

"Now? In the middle of the night?"

"Aye."

Luke stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

Traveling at night was always more dangerous. Many predators hunted after dark, and an animal's senses were far sharper than a man's, putting any traveler at a clear disadvantage. And that wasn't even considering how exhausted he was. After everything that had happened that day, along with the time he had spent practicing magic earlier, Luke doubted he could stay awake much longer, let alone travel through the night.

Hadvar reached into his satchel and took two green glass vials.

"Stamina potions." He said. 

"What do they do?"

"Drink one and you'll feel like you've had a full night's sleep."

Luke's eyes widened.

"You're jesting."

"I'm not."

Hadvar tossed one of the potions toward him, and Luke caught it.

"If these work, why does anyone sleep?"

Hadvar barked out a laugh.

"Because potions are expensive, most common folk can't afford to buy them regularly. And even those who can don't abuse them. Drink too many, and your body starts to adapt, making them less effective over time. Push it further, and the consequences can become far more dangerous."

"Noted. "Luke uncorked the bottle. "Tastes as bad as the healing potions?"

Hadvar's grin widened.

"Luke, all potions have a foul taste."

Luke let out a sigh. If this potion was anything like the healing ones, the awful taste would be a small price to pay. He tipped the vial back and swallowed it in one gulp. The flavor was atrocious, and his face twisted in disgust. 

"Gods..."

Hadvar laughed before drinking his own. 

Warmth spread through Luke's limbs, and the ache in his body faded, and so did the heaviness behind his eyes. Within seconds, he felt alert, awake, and ready to move. 

"Magic is amazing," Luke said. 

"Potions are." Hadvar corrected him. "Magic is something else entirely."

Luke glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. 

"Aren't potions magic?"

"Alchemy."

Luke opened his mouth and closed it again. Something told him that arguing with Hadvar about his would lead nowhere.

After securing his shield to his arm, unwilling to risk being caught off guard after everything that had happened that day, he followed Hadvar into the wilderness. 

***

The night stretched on around them.

The road wound through forests and rolling hills beneath a sky full of unfamiliar stars. Luke had never seen so many stars before. In Driftmark and Dragonstone, the sea mist and the Dragonmont's breath often hid half the heavens, but here the air was cold and clear, and countless lights glittered overhead.

Perhaps, a quiet voice in the back of his mind suggested, this world held more stars than his home. They certainly seemed more varied, displaying a greater range of colors and patterns. His curiosity about the constellations and the stories behind them nearly prompted him to break the silence several times, but in the end, he decided those questions could wait until later.

Hadvar led the way along a narrow trail, his shield held firmly in his left hand and his right hand always near the hilt of his sword. Luke followed a few paces behind, alert to every sound. 

The trees began to thicken around them and the stars vanished from sight. 

The darkness between the trunks seemed deeper, and Luke found himself gripping his shield tighter. He could hear the wind rustling through the branches and the occasional cry of some distant animal.

Then a chill crawled down Luke’s spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He froze, scanning the darkness until he spotted a pair of amber eyes staring back at him.

Hadvar halted and glanced his way. Luke pointed ahead, and the soldier tensed.

"Damn," Hadvar swore and drew his sword with a hiss of steel.

Once they had been spotted, the wolves began to advance slowly. One by one, they emerged from their hiding places and circled around them. Their eyes glinted faintly in the moonlight as they spread out, six in total—large beasts with thick dark fur and bared teeth.

"Stay behind me."

Luke reached for his own weapon but hesitated.

Six wolves, and large ones at that. Wolves were intelligent predators, hunting in coordinated packs rather than charging blindly. The fact that they had revealed themselves meant the alpha—the first one he had spotted—had already decided they were easy prey with no hope of escaping

Maybe they could fight their way through. Luke figured he could handle one wolf, perhaps two if he was lucky, but no more than that. And while Hadvar was a trained soldier, Luke had no idea whether he could take on three or four at once.

Damn it, if only—

A glimmer lit Luke’s blue eyes as he remembered something. Wild animals—including wolves—were often wary of fire. Hunters and travellers used it to keep predators away from their camps, and Luke had just learned a spell that, according to the notes, was meant for exactly that purpose.

Well, learned might have been too strong a word. At the moment, he could only manage a small flame, and he doubted that alone would be enough to frighten off the wolves. Still, if there was one thing he had discovered today, it was that he learned remarkably well under pressure.

"Wait," Luke said.

"What?" Hadvar did not look at him; his eyes moved from wolf to wolf. 

Luke raised his hand.

"I have an idea."

One of the wolves snarled and edged closer. Luke swallowed hard, pushing aside the voice in his head insisting this was a terrible idea and concentrated on the instructions Gareth had written in his journal.

Feel the magicka. Guide it. Shape it around the idea of fire.

A small flame flickered to life in his palm, but it did little to deter the wolves. The alpha snarled and pressed forward, prompting the rest of the pack to follow.

Hadvar adjusted his stance.

"Luke—"

"I'm trying!"

Luke concentrated harder. Damn it, Arrax would have turned these mutts to ashes in a- Thinking about Arrax, he felt something stir within him—a strange warmth, a tingling sensation—and he focused harder on Arrax, on their bond, on the fire that connected them. A moment later, flames burst from his palm.

The alpha had lowered itself, ready to lunge, when the stream of fire shot toward it. The wolf recoiled immediately, its ears flattening against its head.

Luke clenched his jaw and maintained his focus, turning his hand toward the rest of the pack. The sensation was strangely relieving, as though he were pouring his pain, grief, and fury into the flames and letting them burn away. As he focused on those feelings, reliving the memory of Arrax's death, the fire grew brighter and stretched farther than before.

He swept the flames from side to side, and the wolves jumped back with frightened whines. One of the smallest broke first and fled into the trees, and the others quickly followed.

Luke watched them disappear, and after a moment, he cut off the flow of magicka to his hand, and the flames vanished. His heart was still pounding as he lowered his arm.

"Well," Hadvar said, sheathing his weapon. "That worked."

He stared at Luke with a frown. 

"What?"

Hadvar crossed his arms.

"When did you learn a spell, you did not even know to use magicka a few hours ago? Since when are you a mage?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. 

Luke snorted. He did not lie; he really did not know what magicka was or how to use it. 

"I'm not."

"You just scared off a pack of wolves with a destruction spell."

"I only learned that spell about an hour ago."

Hadvar blinked.

"An hour ago?"

Luke nodded, and the Nord's expression became increasingly doubtful.

"You're telling me that you learned magic today and you already can cast a novice destruction spell?"

"I read about it in a book." Luke shrugged.

Hadvar stared at him for a long moment.

"That's not how learning magic works." He said.  

"It worked for me."

Hadvar rubbed his forehead.

"By the Divines."

Luke shifted.

"Is that good or bad?"

He let out a breath.

"I don't much care for magic." He glanced toward the path where the wolves had disappeared. "But even I know enough to recognize talent when I see it."

"You think I have talent?"

"I think most people spend days learning what you managed in what, an hour, two?"

That was unexpected. Luke had never considered himself naturally gifted at anything. True, he had accomplished a great deal both as a warrior and as a scholar, but he would never call that talent—only the result of relentless effort.

Everything he knew had been earned through hard work and persistence.

"Maybe I got lucky."

Hadvar laughed.

"No, lad, that's not something luck can explain." Hadvar resumed walking, and after a brief pause, he added, "Maybe you've got the makings of a mage."

Luke looked at his hand, the makings of a mage. He quite liked that. 

He hurried after Hadvar as the first faint hints of dawn began to appear on the eastern horizon.

***

Author’s Note: Is not that Luke isn't talented, he is. He is just a bit oblivious at times.