"Dagfinnr, call for a physician! Or a goði!" Sigrún shouted frantic with worry for the only brother she had ever recognized, attempting to hold up Helgi and assist him to his feet.
Dagfinnr, quick as lightning, was to turn to one of his men, shouting orders for him to depart at once, and do as she had bidden, before she had finished her plea. Thorgils not to be outdone, recognizing Helgi also was by his side in a heartbeat and was to also seek to help with his wound, tearing at the ring mail that covered the other warrior. Wolffish for his part was to hurry past to help calm the still frenetic horse only for him to stop mid-step, to gape at it when he realized that the animal had wings.
The rest of those who had rushed along after Sigrún, Guðleifr, who had caught sight of them as they ran through the halls, and Auðun, respectively, held themselves back at first. Neither of them was particularly certain of what ought to be done, or how best they might assist the new arrivals. In this regard, they were soon made extremely grateful towards Völmung and Skalmöld, who took the situation in hand for them.
The former was to shout, "We have men other than Helgi who are injured, Guðleifr, help Harald down the steps!"
Skalmöld, for her part, was to yell also, "Auðun, you help the Lord Helgi to walk, while I assist the lady here with her injuries!"
Down the Glittering Hall went a number of guards, both Dwarven and not-Dwarven. Their feet bounded and echoed across it, even as the chains ground and gritted as the massive stone doors were to seal shut with a loud boom that resounded louder than any footsteps.
Helgi, tall though not nearly as Thorgils, was a proud man with thick dark hair and a short beard and with vivid blue eyes. Dressed as said in ring-mail with a cloak thrown about his shoulders, he was in many ways a younger version of his grandfather, both in appearance and temperament. While she had been fostered in Bleikrhaug, he had been as a brother to Sigrún and had always treated her with honour and dignity, even friendship. It was he and his cousin Reginleif, she loved best of all those of Helgi the Elder's kinsmen after the man himself and his wife.
This was why it was a shock to Sigrún when he pushed her away. Going so far as to slap her upraised hands away, he was to also refuse aid from Thorgils, who blinked in surprise and told him. "Helgi, let us help you!"
Still, the proud heir of the previous Jarl Helgi shook his head and refused, preferring to bleed where he stood. One of the only three survivors of his men, a great hirsute bear of a man, grey in hair and beard and face, dressed in ring-mail, also ignoring his own wounds, was to press himself to his liege's side. And with grey eyes flashing with fury, he reprimanded the young Jarl, "Let them help thee, else old Aðalstein bend ye over his knee and do what thy grandsire would in other days have done were he to see you now."
The words had something of an effect upon Helgi, one that was almost immediate as he paid heed to the head of his guards, where he had refused the assistance of his foster-sister and her kinsman. Reluctantly, he let them at last slip the ring-mail shirt from him and have a glance at his wounded shoulder where he had been stabbed.
"The wound has not pierced the bone," Thormundr declared, arriving in time to study the wound, alongside a number of goði and others.
"Thank the gods," Dagfinnr agreed at once, assessing the wound with his eyes, "I did not think that the Death-Riders had remained, after Skalmöld had chased them away."
"They did not, they have indeed scattered," Dagfinnr informed her sharply, a frown on his bearded lips. "I do not know who it was that attacked them."
"It was… these strange snake-like men, who surged from the ground, it seemed from beneath the snow; it was thereupon the fields just outside this place that they ambushed us," Aðalsteinn answered in place of Helgi, gasping as he spoke and glancing continuously behind him. "I have never seen anything like them."
"I do not think any of us have ever seen such monstrosities before," Gasped another guard.
"I have," the Ogre muttered in his accented voice, his accent one that Sigrún could not quite place, no matter how hard she tried. "I have seen them once before, in the lands of Gallia from whence Gontran and I came."
The man he motioned to wore the same sort of plate hauberk armour that he did for raiment, with the man bearing on the tabard he wore over his armour a black stallion. His hair was long and dark, with his beard the same colour and his eyes clear, green and glimmering with emotions at all times, be they mirth or sadness. He was in all handsome, and bore, despite his youth, the look of a man who had endured many battles. The man in question, whom Sigrún guessed to be Gontran, declared in a louder voice than his companions. "Thank the goddess, Marianne, we made it to safety! Those vipers are as vicious as ever!"
"You encountered them before?" Dagfinnr asked them almost sternly.
"Oui," the Ogre replied, shaken, "Just before we set out into exile for these lands, they attacked the small village we were staying in."
"Whereabouts was that village?" Thormundr asked of him, if idly so as he worked to apply pressure to Helgi's open wound.
"It was a small thing by the name of Gauchard, and was on the northern coast of Mabillon," Gontran replied wearily as he sagged a little to the ground. "Alban and I were given leave to come to the home of Helgi, and it was there that we were welcomed until he was slain. Afterwards, we offered our service to his grandson, only for rumours to arrive on panicked lips of all the strangeness that was happening throughout the six northern kingdoms."
"It was then that, hearing thy name, and being familiar with it though we are from the faraway south, we chose to accompany Helgi hither in the hopes that we might protect him from the knaves and snakes who might wish him dead." Alban the Ogre interrupted, taking up the story for the other man, who had sagged to the ground next to him. "Even in Gallia, your name resounds, for you are considered among the wisest who live in the frozen north."
"I am flattered, truly I am," Dagfinnr replied ere he turned away to study Helgi once more, just as a number of servants were returning. "We must move Helgi, along with the other wounded, then and only then shall we discuss this at greater length."
The two Gallians nodded their heads, if reluctantly so. Neither of them was injured, and both were far more concerned for their travelling companions than they were themselves. In this, they had much in common with the likes of Aðalsteinn, who was to refuse to part from his liege lord's side until his wound had been cleaned, stitched closed, and properly bandaged.
Hardly willing to abandon Helgi's side either, Sigrún was to accompany him to his bedchambers, accepting kind words with little more than a blink or a nod. So great was her concern for the friend she had known since childhood, she was hardly able to notice aught else; his strange comportment earlier hardly dented her consternation.
Picking up the youth, Aðalsteinn was to, with the aid of Thorgils, carry Helgi away down the entrance hall, and to the eastern quarter of the city, where Dagfinnr's palace was. The King, acting as guide, saw to it that no crowds would follow them everywhere, with a great many of the people visibly intrigued by what had taken place, and whispering amongst themselves as they watched the royal procession crossing through their city. What was more was that a number of Helgi's surviving guards had also been injured and were carried also to the palace and from there down a series of halls to the 'west-wing' of the estate. It was therein, the opposite wing of where Sigrún had been placed, that Helgi and his guards were to be carried.
It was to be only after Helgi had been put in his own bedchambers and told to rest that Sigrún was to allow herself to be escorted out of the room by Darin. "Come along, Sigrún, he must rest, lest his wound worsen."
"But I must help care for him," Sigrún attempted to persist futilely.
"No, think of what Helgi, his grandfather, would have said," Darin replied no less obstinately, whereupon he was to say to her. "All know how much you care for his kinsmen; there is no need to prove it. Leave such poor judgment to the fools and liars of the world."
His words and soothing tone were a comfort, though Sigrún still would have preferred to remain by Helgi's side. Her heart ached for him, and the suffering he had gone through, suffering that she could better sympathize with then, than that which others in her family had endured.
If Sigrúnwere a little more perceptive, she might well have taken notice of the irritated state of the likes of Thorgils on behalf of Auðun. The sorcerer's apprentice was considerably more concerned than he was jealous.
"Sigrún, mayhaps you ought to let matters lie as they are for the moment," Thorgils whispered to her, with a glance towards his friend, he muttered. "There are others who are better equipped to help him than you."
"I am not so certain of that," she retorted, not noticing the significant glance he cast in her friend's direction. "Unless you mean Skalmöld, then I shall agree with you, stepbrother."
"He should recover," Auðun piped up, adding while he squeezed her shoulder with one hand in a comforting gesture that conveyed more warmth than any fur-blanket or embrace from Gertrud could have provided. "Fear not, Sigrún, Helgi, if he has anything of his grandfather and grandmother in him, is full of vigour and strength, he will live."
Eyeing the two of them closely, with uncertain eyes, Thorgils fell silent even as his father drew him aside to reprimand him. Quite what was said, she was not certain, nor did she pay much mind to the two of them, even as Thorgils turned away irritably from his father.
Guðleifr, for his part, was to approach the two of them, while encouraging others with the aid of the lady Skalmöld, for them to disperse. The most reluctant were the likes of Völmung and Sigrún, both of whom were quite attached to the young Helgi for similar reasons. Both were considered as kindred to the likes of Helgi, in some manner, though not in the most direct sense of it, in the minds of some of those dearest to them.
Yet chase the two away, they did, with both of them taking refuge with their friends from Heiðrrán, along with the Ogre from Gallia, in the libraries. It was only as they arrived at the entrance to the grandest of all rooms in the eyes of Sigrún took notice of the last member of their small group.
A little disconcerted by his presence, she turned to look at him archly, "May I ask what it is that you think you are doing?"
Alban, for his part, was surprised by her cold tone and responded in like manner, saying to her rather more icily than the coldest of northern frost. "I had thought that apparent dear girl; I do not know this place and do not know very many Dwarves who might welcome an Ogre into their midst, so I had thought it best to stay close to your group. What is more is that if you are indeed headed thither to the library, I had thought I might read any Gallian or Koraxian texts that might be found there."
His explanation made a great deal of sense, and it was with a start that Sigrún realized too late that she had been the rude one of the two. It was, however, with a glance at her stepfather, who had accompanied her for the first time there, that she found herself reluctant to apologize. The husband of her mother had a way of making her feel as though she were still a little girl, one who had never tasted battle and might never reach adulthood.
It was a demeaning feeling, and filled her with humiliation, so that she resented him all the more when he asked her. "Sigrún, if I may, can we speak in private?"
"No, I would prefer not to," She retorted at once aware that, as with Thorgils, he intended to reprimand her.
Thorgils might have accepted such a thing, but she would not. She could see that he was burning with anger now and meant to reprimand her rather more publicly than before. The sense of childishness that overcame her then, in front of her friends, made her feel even smaller, and it was worsened when Völmung intervened.
"Sigrún, I have never known you to behave quite so poorly. Certainly, you are a cold woman by nature, one who clings to your foster-father far too tightly even in death. However, Alban the Ogre might soon prove himself a companion of ours on this quest, I would think it only natural that you welcome him, especially since it was he who helped to safeguard Helgi along the road hither." Völmung reprimanded her rather more publicly than her stepfather might well have done, his brows blond and thick furrowed together as she had seen several days prior when he had confronted Aslaug and Myrgjǫl over a broken bust of one of Dagfinnr's ancestors.
There was little she could do then, with the young woman's cheeks burning. Alban thankfully was able to take the moment in stride and did not seem to think much of it. Saying as he did so, "There is naught to be concerned over, sir. I would enter the library with or without the girl's permission." Forced into a climb-down, Sigrún was to however receive something of a consolation when Alban the Ogre, no less a courteous knight than Gontran, had seemed to ask of her and the sorcerer's apprentice. "In return, should I offer what knowledge of Gallian I have, would you be so kind as to read for me those written in your northern runes?"
"You cannot read our tongue?" Auðun asked of him.
"They are incomprehensible," Alban grumbled with a roll of his dark eyes, advancing into the library with the sorcerer's apprentice by his side.
The two were to go on bickering for some time about the merits of the northern runes, in contrast to the southern alphabet, which had been given to Gallia by Roma millennia ago. The Ogres had their own alphabet also, one somewhat derived from that of Doria, called the Mahldorian alphabet after the inventor of the said writing system, Mahldor Bloodthorne. A renowned scholar and sorcerer from the First Wars of Darkness, and younger brother of the finest Ogrish hero of that long ago conflict, Mahldor had invented the written system of letters of the Ogres long after the wars, when he was old. He was also as revered as his elder sibling, with the two being ancestors of the current royal family of Korax, with Alban revering the two as much as he did the likes of Aemiliemagne and Roland the Valiant.
This discovery sparked considerable interest in the likes of Auðun, just as it did in all of them, Wolffish, who was fascinated by tales of the south. The two were not the most widely travelled, having never gone Viking as Thorgils and Guðleifr had, yet they had a passion for what lay across the Glacial Sea.
No less interested than they in the lands to the south, Sigrún, though she tried to hide her own curiosity now about the Ogre Knight, hardly succeeded as she soon found herself asking her own questions. Some were as inane as the latest fashion in Gallia, as she was immensely curious about this particular subject, the Dwarvish princess Eldrid had dressed in nondescript Nordic styles that seemed to have more in common with Heiðrrán than any true demonstration of fashion. Other questions she had for the Knight had to do with the southern lands' faith and the lands there.
"The land of Gallia is vast, with a great many mountains, ridges, cliffs, but also plains, with the greatest proportion of the people living as farmers or in small towns." Alban said a hint of wistfulness in his voice as he searched for a place to seat himself, "If I may, the fashion is not something I am entirely familiar with. Gontran and I are from the countryside, and have never visited the cities of Armand or Hector, which are the centre of fashion."
"Oh," This was a terrible disappointment to Sigrún, though she was pleased to hear about the fields and landscape.
"Never mind such idle nonsense, how came you to be here?" Thorgils asked with a roll of his eyes at her queries, which won him a dirty glance from his stepsister.
"It might well be best to wait to hear that particular tale with everyone else, on the morrow," Völmung said, intervening between the two.
"You only say so, because you have journeyed through Gallia," Auðun grumbled beneath his breath, visibly disappointed. He loved hearing of Gallia and the south; this much even Sigrún had observed over the course of their travels.
"He has?" Alban replied, pleased, "What parts have you visited?"
"I have seen a great deal of Norençie, Mabillon, and of course the cities of Roven, Armand, and Hector." Völmung retorted, he appeared prepared to say more when there was a knock at the door, with the doors tearing open so that Durin might push his head through the opening.
"Völmung! If I may borrow you and Guðleifr, I would be very much obliged," He said, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"Why?"
"The girls, whom you have foisted upon me for the day, have begun to get a great deal more rowdy than they ordinarily are, so that I am not wholly certain of how best to handle them." Durin said with a pained expression on his face, "It is Myrgjǫl in particular that worries me…"
There was more that he said, but the door closed behind the three of them, so that the rest of the conversation was sealed and hidden from them. Hardly interested in pursuing their talk of Gallia further, Alban was to promise to tell them more the following day, with the aid of Gontran, when they were to meet with Dagfinnr.
Frustrated as she was, Sigrún preferred not to press him, not when she had the history of Guðrun placed before her by the Wolffish. The Wolfram had only just discovered it in his own search for books on the history of Friskalia. The rest of the evening was spent in reading for the journey that lay ahead.
"I do hope this history of the lady is far more detailed than the previous history Auðun found of her," Sigrún grunted unhappily.
"Mayhaps it is, or perhaps it is not," Wolffish told her with a shrug, "Read it and discover for yourself, I myself will keep to the histories of the eastern kingdom."
"Why that kingdom?" Auðun asked, pulling his nose from a text detailing the history of the Völsungs that Völmung had selected for him, shortly after their arrival in the library.
"There is a good chance we will visit there before this quest is finished," Wolffish replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I wish to look into their dynasty, and what has come about there since the First Wars of Darkness, and the father of the current King."
Friskalia had its roots in ancient times in the Tigrun clan of the Icefangs; it was from them that the fearsome Freysson clan stemmed, as Frey Icefang stemmed from this clan. It was he who conquered, rallied, and forcibly united a large group of Tigruns shortly after the rise of the Guntherssons over Norvech. Conquering the south, he was who took in the heirs of Sigurðr's half-brother and even for a brief time Sigurðr's grandson. Frey was said to have paid for this when he was slain in defence of the youth, but not before he so frightened Gunnar Gunthersson by even in death remaining standing just outside the fortress of Sigurðburh. The clan renamed itself the Freyssons, yet they were only to rule until the First Wars of Darkness, when their last member was destroyed.
After this, Friskalia briefly united under Oddr Arngrimrsson, who combined wit, cunning, and charisma enough to rally the rival clans that had so divided that land. Ruling for twenty-six years, he was able to inspire in them the old loyalties and begin the process of rebuilding the old port-city that the Freyssons had sought to build into their largest port. Ultimately, after his death, it all dissolved away until Remia arrived to reorganize and rename the port-city Frizaka. And after Remia had departed, the port regained its old name, and the kingdom at last was to claim its own royal family of the Raegarssons. Founded by the Remian general, the Friskalian Raegar the Tall, he was to lay claim to the frost-lands and to expand the old city, force his rule northward, and seek to push back the invading barbarous beast-folks from Beveriand and further east. It was his rule that stamped his clan into the realm, yet later the royal dynasty faltered, at which time his line's heiress wed into the line of Brynjarr, which was defeated in Friskalia. Still later, the hero Jarvi was to rise to rescue Friskalia in the midst of the Second Wars of Darkness. It is from this figure that the current royal line was descended.
In response to the doubtful expression on her face, Wolffish huffed and turned away, "I maintain that we ought to read of all the kingdoms to see if there is anything of use to our quest."
*****
The following day, they were called before Dagfinnr, this time to hear the tale of Helgi and that of those who had accompanied him north from his estates. In total, there were four who were to tell this story: Gontran and Alban were to begin their own, then there was Helgi and the Lady Azalea. This last personage had come a long way from Arlenea, the hidden city of the Kalthéan-Knights, those riders of pegasii renowned throughout all the world for their skill in taming the winged horses that populated many of the northern mountains.
"Let us begin once more, all of you shall tell thy tales, then my son Dunneyrr shall tell his," Dagfinnr announced quite suddenly, motioning to a young Dwarf to one side of his grandson. The Dwarf in question certainly looked similar to the King himself; he had the same prominent brow, same nose, same cheekbones, and even wore his beard and hair in the same fashion.
The sole difference was the cheerful manner with which he carried himself, and the casual manner in which he sought initially to lay his feet upon the council table, only to stop when he saw the disapproval on his nephew's and father's faces. It was strange, but with the friendly wink and slight snigger he let slip, Sigrún liked him from the start.
Hardly daunted by this behaviour on the part of the Dwarf, Helgi, who had by this time mostly recovered from his wounds from the day prior, addressed the council. The day was cold the heavens could be seen through the odd holes in the roofing that had been dug centuries ago along the top floors of the palace. Some of the sunlight was thus reflected via mirrors into the large feast-hall where they had gathered.
It was at this time, with the suns' fully risen in the skies above, that they all felt themselves to be most awake and most prepared to hear the tales Helgi's companions had to tell. Not all, though, who were present were keen to hear what he had to say, with the likes of Auðun absorbed in a book, and Gontran humming a tune and Skalmöld fiddling about with one of her tresses. This latter act in turn served to distract the likes of Thorgils, Aithlin, and also Darin, the grandson of Dagfinnr. It was not difficult for Sigrún to see quite why this was, given the beauty of the other woman, who was, for the first time, distracted and somewhat disinterested in the day's affairs.
"We began our journey," Alban began to say, only to cough, clear his voice, and begin anew with an annoyed glance at Gontran, who was not paying proper attention. "Gontran, what are you humming? You must pay attention, I shall need your assistance in the telling of this tale of ours. Now, where to begin?"
"I daresay it might be best to begin just before our exile," Gontran countered with a shrug of his own muscular shoulders.
"Very well," Alban retorted shortly before he began once more. "We began our own journey in the far south, in what can be called the north of Gallia. We are both knights of the Duc de Mabillon's court; he is a grand and loyal Seigneur to the High-King of Gallia. It was while we prepared for a new joust that the Duc was hosting that misfortune struck us, you see. Some of those serpents arose; now they are known in Gallia but are dreaded and despised, since long ago, and they sought to rob our liege strangely of one of his most ancestral possessions. The possession in question is a simple ruby given to his grandmother when she first wed her husband by a clergyman cousin of his. It is hardly priceless, and as far as heirlooms go, it had more sentimental value than any true value.
Drawn into combat against them, I was to bloody my sword and bathe it in their filth until there was naught left but corpses in the treasury of my liege. Somehow, though, while I was distracted there, they had slipped away to murder one of our liege lord's sons! Oh, how he wept when he found the corpse, and how it wounded him so! If I could, I would have gladly exchanged my own life for the boy's! He was an innocent, and it made little sense to slay him!"
Alban punctuated his statement by slamming his fist with all his strength upon the table. The whole of the stone table shook and trembled, with some of the plates that sat thereupon it leaping up as though in a vain attempt to escape it. Trembling with the force of his emotions, it was a wonder that the Ogre did not keep from giving way to the vast wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. All looked on him with sympathy and pity, save for Thormundr, who stroked his beard, while Darin, Dunneyrr, and Aithlin all looked still upon the Ogre with visible dislike.
"It did if he was the true goal, were there other lives lost while you were distracted, friend Alban?" Skalmöld asked of him, ever the most perceptive one in the room, so that she detected that there was something he had not mentioned.
"Why yes," Alban remarked, surprised by this guess, and exchanging an equally startled glance with Gontran before he addressed her query directly. "It so happens that there was indeed another murder on our liege-lord's lands. You see, the man who had given over the ruby in question, as part of the wedding gifts a number of years ago, was murdered. A douvain, he was a genial old man and a cousin of the lady Duchesse, and so he was held in high regard, so that his murder was the source of a great deal of consternation. Formally, after I was accused of the murder by one of her servants and a rival knight, our lord, who believed my tale due to several witnesses standing up for me, and he himself having seen me attend to my guard shift by the treasury room himself, he decided to make a show of punishing me. That is to say, he commanded me to go north, to investigate the lands where the ruby had come from, suspecting, after seeking the counsel of the lord Archmage Findralan, that the ruby had some role to play in the murders. And so I came hither to consult first with Helgi, who was respected by the Duc and sorcerer, then, when he disappeared, we volunteered to escort his grandson to these very halls."
"Wait, it was Findralan who advised that the two of you be sent north?" Thormundr asked, visibly rattled by this revelation.
"Indeed it was, though I fail to see what bearing it has upon this conversation? All in Gallia trust him," Alban retorted impatiently.
"Who is Findralan?" Sigrún queried, feeling foolish when she saw how everyone turned to stare at her.
"He is head Archmage of Gallia; he is renowned for his wisdom and has advised every king of Gallia since her foundation nigh on a hundred years ago," Aithlin explained proudly, eyes glimmering with visible joy when discussing Findralan. "He is one of my people and is renowned for his wisdom in spite of his great youth as an Elf."
"He is also said to be Sheltar's heir, and therefore next in line to be head of the Order of Auguria," Auðun told her with no small amount of pride and fascination of his own. "He is famous as something of a genius, in the Order such that men from all lands and kingdoms of the world journey far and wide to hear him lecture and speak, in his Tower in Breizh or in Armand."
"I still shan't believe he took interest in such an event; things must be dire," Thormundr muttered, visibly disturbed.
"But you knew they were, how could you say so when you have seen evidence of how terrible the situation has become with thine own eyes?" Aithlin demanded of the sorcerer incredulously, before he turned to grumble to Vegarðr, "I see now how old age may affect the wits of those of the race of men. How difficult it must be."
This remark made several faces flush bright scarlet, and there might well have been a great clash there within the halls of Dagfinnr, were it not for the Dwarf himself. Interceding as always to smooth out all disagreements and ruffled egos, he was as swift as he was honeyed in his choice of words. "There is no need for such harshness, Aithlin, and do continue, Alban, with thy story. Mayhaps it can be explained how it was that Gontran came to also be here."
"Alban has reached the end of his story; I myself was to join him on the journey as we are sworn brothers by sacred oath and by a shared drink in the younger days of the Goblet of Faith," Gontran told him with a shrug of his large shoulders.
Quite what the Goblet of Faith was was a mystery to many present, but as the knight went on to explain, this rite was a holy one. The Goblet of Faith was drunk from for only the most sacred of oaths, and the two had sworn brotherhood by these means, mixing their blood as the ritual demanded with the wine before it was blessed by a douvard or douvain. It was in all one of the strangest rites that Sigrún had ever heard of, even as it was one of the most intriguing.
Gontran, once he had finished explaining the nature of the ritual and the reason why he and Alban had done it many years prior, went on to explain. "As our fates are bound up with one another because of the Goblet of Faith and our oaths of brotherhood, I came north, though I did not much fancy such a voyage. Certainly, these halls are preferable to others we have seen; the very worst part of the north has been the Collubar, who have ambushed us twice along the way from Bleikrhaug to this place."
"And there is sure to be a great many more ambushes ahead of us," Skalmöld predicted sagely, still running a hand through her long braids.
"Very true, speaking of ambushes, we must now turn the discussion to Helgi before I reveal my own preparations for those that lie ahead of you all," Dagfinnr said at his most sombre as he called attention now to Helgi.
*****
Helgi, for his part, had spent the greater proportion of the council meeting avoiding the eyes of Sigrún and Thorgils, along with those of Guðleifr. The three of them were all equally disturbed by this, for all of them had once been on excellent terms with the youth. All but kin, they could not quite understand why it was that he was so cold to them, with the first of the three to become suspicious as to the reason behind it, being Thorgils, who muttered beneath his breath, while Guðleifr sighed sadly when he realized the reason. Only Sigrún could not quite understand why the only man she had ever called brother was treating her so icily.
"Many moons ago, I received a message from Heiðrrán, one that was accompanied by the corpse of my grandfather and grandmother, along with a great many others of our house. It was for this reason that I sent the first of many urgent messages to thee Dagfinnr. Seeking counsel and aid, should the forces of Jarl Njarla infringe upon my lands, which he had begun to do shortly after the fall of Helgi. It was terrible, and being bereft of family and abandoned by others who showed themselves to be cowards and bereft of the slightest courtesy," Here his gaze turned icily towards Sigrún so that all knew of whom he spoke. "Even as they claimed vengeance for his fall themselves, I was left to match wits alone with the wicked man, even as he demanded also my cousin Reginleif."
"He has? That scum! He is nearer to Helgi the Elder's age than to hers," Völmung growled, his fist striking the table with a fury that made it jump and tremble, almost as much as it had because of Alban's own outburst earlier.
"Oui, and he has not done so with full respect for her standing or person, since thy departure," Alban retorted sombrely.
At which time Helgi piped up snidely, with a dark look in the Prince's direction, "Mayhaps she would have felt safer had you still been there."
"And perhaps she would feel safer if her cousin guarded her better than he does his tongue," Wolffish snapped heatedly, wherefore the youth before him flushed scarlet with rage.
Indignant, he came near to throwing himself across the table at the Wolfram, only to find himself restrained by his guards, such as Aðalsteinn. The eldest of the guards placed a single hand on the young man's shoulder, one that was accompanied by a stern expression.
There was more that might well have been said; however, Dagfinnr called for the story to continue, at which time Helgi the Younger, as many had taken to calling him, once more threw himself into his tale. "I was left to attempt to defend my lands, at which time I faced Hrǿríkr alone and with bandits awakening and raiding my lands-"
"Mayhaps it is a sign of a weak Jarl," Wolffish cut in with the same sharp tongue his mother might otherwise have wielded. "My mother always said that bandits prey upon people only when Jarls are weak, as weak Jarls leave their people desperate and defenceless."
"Wolffish, you have had your own chance to speak, and therefore shall sit still, and allow Helgi to speak." Dunneyrr reprimanded on behalf of his father, speaking up for the first time, "Do go on, Jarl Helgi."
"Otherwise, we will have thee dismissed from this hall," Darin, the grandson of Dagfinnr, piped up with an annoyed look in the direction of his uncle for intervening.
The Wolffish glanced about only to find no one willing to stand with him, so that he, to the surprise of all, made to regain his feet. Surprised as the threat was a conditional one, conditional on bad behaviour, and yet he had volunteered nonetheless to leave irreverent of the nature of the aforementioned threat.
When it was sought to clarify this matter, Wolffish shrugged the King's words off with visible indifference. "All due respect, your Grace, but I shall not stand idly by and wait through the rest of Helgi's foolish words. I have no interest in listening to his pitiful wailing any further. If all he seeks to do is blame others, especially women, for the problems that menace his domain, he has time to do what his grandfather might have done: fight to defend it."
Wolffish departed thence from the hall, with a grand bow to the King, who gave him leave to depart the hall, much to the amazement of those who surrounded the council table. There was a pause as Dagfinnr considered the doors before he turned to the rest of those assembled.
His expression grave, when he gave the rest of them permission to leave also, "If any others wish to leave, speak now and do so; else hold thy peace until after Helgi has finished with his tale."
It was slow, and at first seemed as though none would speak as Wolffish had done, but after several minutes, there were two others who regained their feet and made to leave. The first was Guðleifr, which came as no surprise to any present, save for Thorgils, who was visibly unhappy with his father's red-faced departure. The leave-taking of Gertrud's husband came as a blow; it seemed to Helgi, who was hardly pleased by this, with the likes of Darin and even Vegarðr bewildered by his decision.
When prompted, he declared himself in agreement with the Wolffish. Yet it was not his departure that was to most affect those present the most, but rather that of Auðun. A lover of knowledge and one who had never missed the chance to note down what others were saying throughout these councils. A duty he had explained as necessary for posterity, with these records given over to Dagfinnr's scribes, who dutifully copied them before they returned Auðun's notes to him the following morning, just before the next council. In this way, they proved their own integrity in such matters that concern scribes and scholars, and yet, before being any such things, Auðun was a man like any other.
"I shan't continue in as scribe here, and think it best if another comes to take over my duties," Auðun proposed with a harsh stare in Helgi's direction.
It was a stare that was returned with some venom, so that there was none present therewith that doubted the animosity between them. Few there were who puzzled over how this feud that divided the two youths had begun, and even fewer doubted that it might prove an unworthy distraction to all involved. Disconcerted, as she was one of the few utterly ignorant as to the true cause, even as she began to have an inkling of the reason Helgi and Auðun had taken such a dislike to one another, Sigrún was to look from one to the other, divided over what to say and to whom.
In the end, she sought to compromise; by ignoring Helgi and attempting to dissuade Auðun from behaving so impulsively, "You need not go now, Auðun, we need you here. I do not mind Helgi's harshness."
"You ought to mind a great deal more. I shall not sit idly by whilst he insults not only yourself, Sigrún, but also those who perished that Helgi's memory might be avenged, along with those who triumphed over those serpents. All while he hid beneath his bed for months doing naught more than hoping some other man might step up to the rescue, whilst his people suffered." Auðun snapped, pulling his hand away from hers, ere he turned upon his heel to storm out from the feast-hall after Guðleifr and Wolffish.
"How dare you!" Helgi bellowed, rising to his feet.
"You have no right to insult our Jarl, get on thy knees, you worm!" Aðalsteinn growled no less infuriated than his liege-lord.
When they had left, more shouts and outcries took place. That is, until Thormundr interrupted their shouts of rage with a great display of coloured fire that exploded from his staff with a great 'bang' that startled all present. Once he had captured the attention of all present, the old sorcerer spoke quietly, a hint of menace in his voice. "I would warn the lot of ye to tread lightly and speak of my apprentice with care. He has ten thousand times- no, a hundred times the courage and valour as demonstrated by thou, now let us move along to what was done after the return of Helgi's corpse."
The chaos and rage that had sparked to life after Auðun's words died as quickly as they had come into being. The telling of the tale took a bit of time to return to, as Eldrid, the granddaughter of Dagfinnr, felt it best to recommend that all take some time to eat food brought into the hall.
"When arguments break out, it is often due to empty stomachs or little sleep," quoth the sister of Darin with a grave grimace on her face.
"How very true and wise you are, dear lady! Let us eat, then speak no more of accusations and who did what, or why he or she did this or that." Vegarðr said eagerly, speaking up for the first time in quite some time. When they had all eaten their fill of honeyed and berry-sauce-covered pork, it was he who spoke first, encouraging the heir of Helgi to continue with his tale. "As Thormundr said, what was it that happened after the departure of Völmung, after he had delivered a great many of the remains of those who had accompanied his grandfather and grandfather to him."
"Very well, after Völmung departed, we were troubled by the activities of our neighbours so that we struggled to hold our own. But it was as I departed to confront Njarla, who had just invaded my lands, yet when we made to clash with him in the north-easternmost parts of my lands, we found that not only had he done so in force, but he had brought with him the Collubar. Remembering the words of Völmung, we fought as only those chosen by the gods could and found that a great many of us were taken to Valhalla before we could properly push back the forces of Hrǿríkr." Helgi answered in far more eloquent words, if with a continued hint of bitterness in his voice. "So that all present herewith us will know and recognize that I was not idle, and neither were any of those who followed me into battle, behave in such a manner."
"None present believes that, my brother," Sigrún told him faithfully, truly meaning the words though they won her naught but the annoyance of her beloved foster-brother and the discomfort of some of his men.
"Hmph, well, we fought and many of our people died, so that after the battle, when they had been pushed back, we sent back the corpses of the slain and made to investigate these Collubar closer. It was that very night that a strange dream came upon us all. It was one which we shared; we were all standing as it was within the remains of what was once the grand city of Miklasteinnr, founded by Agmunðr's father, just as he set out to attempt to conquer Brittia. The city, which, when last visited, was bright and beautiful and stood tall, now was laid low with filth covering its holy places, its temples burnt, and its royal palace utterly destroyed. There was not even the sound of the crashing waves to soothe our broken spirits. It is strange, but it was at this time that we heard the name of Dagfinnr and knew to look north to find the answer to the mystery of this dream. When we returned home, we expressed our desire to venture north, only to find that Gontran and Alban had had the same dream."
In response to the surprised glances thrown their way, all looked to Gontran and Alban to confirm which they needed with heavy nods, and with the former clarifying to all present when prompted. "It occurred to us that it might be best, explained in Helgi's version of the tale, than to reveal at once what we all saw. We were left to defend Castle-Bleikrhaug, where a battle was fought, if a brief one, as Smaragdborg had attempted to betray Helgi in spite of having been his grandfather's good-brother."
"It grieves me to know that thy grand-uncle has proven himself perfidious; he shall be properly dealt with in the fullness of time." Skalmöld hissed, eyes ablaze with fury as she showed her perfect white teeth for the first time since the council had begun. "How dare he, after he was made years ago, to promise that he would support the heirs of Helgi?"
"We appreciate your kindly words, milady," Helgi replied with flushed cheeks, moved by the passion with which so beautiful a lady might speak in his favour. "It is for this reason we took along a number of volunteers to come seek out Dagfinnr to discover from him the meaning of this dream."
"This is why we must ask, what is the meaning of the dream, good King?" Gontran asked of the Dwarf-King.
The Dwarf studied them with care. It was no secret he was wise, especially in old lore, so that even the Elves revered his wisdom. Raised amongst the Mountain-Elves to whom his mother had sent him in his youth for his fosterage, he had learnt much of dream and star-lore, just as he had secrets that made him seem almost magical to his own people. Though it was widely known he could not practice magic, all knew him to be the wisest of the Dwarves alive in the whole of the Northlands.
Stroking his beard thoughtfully, he was to remark, "I shall require time to ponder it. This I must ask of all of you, for now, while I ponder and puzzle out this particular dream, I will ask the Lady Azalea to tell us her tale."
*****
The Lady Azalea was a soft-looking lady, with a beauteous appearance and the haunted look that left her well-placed as one of those who had joined Helgi for the latter part of his journey. There was such an air of unhappiness about the woman, dressed that day in a blue dress, a gift from Princess Eldrid, she wore it with the same grace and dignity a Queen might have. Her long hair was bound together in a long braid, in the same manner that Sigrún wore her own in.
In all, she was the other sight within those halls that stole the breath of all who lived there, with a great many Dwarves having paid the Lady Azalea many bowed heads and complimentary words during her stay. Never one to behave presumptuously or rudely, as the icy Sigrún was often wont to do, Azalea had, of course, accepted every kindly word, every bow of respect with the sort of grace and gratitude that might have melted the heart of even the most hardened of men. Of all those who now called themselves 'guests', she and Aithlin were the best loved by their hosts, her for her beauty and innate politeness. He was beloved for the fact that he was one of the Iron-Elves, those Elves who were innately closer to the Dwarves than to any other Elves, both in their religious views and in their cultural ones.
What most fascinated those from Norvech and Gallia, though, was the accent with which Azalea spoke to them. It was an accent that seemed somehow even more distant from the Arnish tongue that was the lingua franca of the Northlands than the dialects of the Dwarves or even Alban had spoken with. Only Ailthin had sounded more foreign than this young woman at present did, even as her appearance gave her away as being from Norvech or Swethin.
"My people have long as any will have guessed, kept to ourselves. This has been done since the days of the New Kingdom that followed after the withdrawal from the north by Remia, as we Kalthéan-Knights were hunted down by a great many of the Kings who ruled over the many kingdoms. These kinglets and Jarls hunted us out of jealousy of our military might, and because they believed we had in our mountain fortress of Arlanea, some great treasure or other."
"Do you?" Dunneyrr asked eagerly, only to shrink a little when his relations, his father included, glared at him.
Azalea snorted, "Absolutely not. Not the sort that most might think of, we accept tribute from local farmers and, in turn, protect them from those Jarls who would think to do them harm. But that is the extent of our wealth. Our Knights and Pegasii are our treasures."
"As they should be, and as you should, fair lady of Arlanea, the Knighthood, as any true sons and daughters of Norvech know, is the gem upon the crown of the Kingdom," Völmung remarked not unkindly, whereupon the good lady flushed scarlet at his high praise.
Stumbling for words for quite some time, she was to throw herself once more into her tale, in a hurried voice, "Over the past decade, we have been in retreat, though many of those in the south could never know this. It happened at first gradually, but then about eleven years ago, Fránir began to push us ever further back with the aid of two of the Jarls under his command, as they began to raid into our lands. At first, we sought to negotiate and compromise, but after we put to death our Grand-Lady, who was involved with his schemes, and elected the Lady Astrid to the position, we at last began to fight back. The trouble was that he unleashed his wyverns, which have given him an advantage in the skies, and have left our fortress citadels in the mountains besieged, so that here I am, to plead with those at this council to come to our rescue! We have a longstanding friendship with thy kingdom, Dagfinnr, for when the kingdom briefly fell in your youth, it was we, and we alone, who stood by thee, and I have been told to call upon that debt!"
The young woman became so consumed by her emotions, by her fear for her sisters in Kalthéa, that she burst into a flurry of tears. Ones that the previously stoic lady was visibly shamed by, and took several minutes to at last swallow, with none of those seated there unaffected.
"I know well how far back the friendship between our people goes, and would be proud to lend my assistance to Kalthéa." Dagfinnr replied genially, a small smile on his lips, at which time he murmured, "I will call for my armies once I have a better understanding of the situation in Kalthéa; the Jarls Ivarr and Ragnarr have encircled thy lands, and relied upon a small detachment of wyverns to aid them in the battle, correct?"
"Indeed," Azalea confirmed at once, "What is more is that Fránir has made repeated sorties against us, and has also, since his tower is not far from where our citadels are, begun to we have observed amass an immense army."
"Wait? An army?" This time it was Thorgils who spoke up. "Thormundr, what do you know of this?"
Thormundr grimaced before he joined in the discussion alongside Azalea, "On my visit, I observed that there was indeed a large encampment just outside of his Tower, yet I saw little of his troops."
"I have flown overhead of his troops, shortly before the fall of Kalthéas," Azalea began, yet was interrupted now by Skalmöld, who burst out.
"Kalthéas has fallen? Are you certain?" At this time, the young woman's expression twisted itself for the first time into a genuinely afraid one, as Dagfinnr froze also.
"Yes, it has, but three months ago, after three years of siege, with all those within it put to the sword, including our noble pegasii that dwelt within the courtyard." Azalea confessed with a sorrowful look, "Amongst the fallen was the Grand-Lady's own infant niece, along with her nephew, the noble lord Erlendr, who fought like a demon before he was slain." She then added sorrowfully, "I was the one who retrieved his head after it was put atop the wall, believe you me, it was no easy task."
"Erlendr has died? One of Kalthéa's noblest men-at-arms dead? Oh, how the gods have turned upon Kalthéa!" Völmung hissed, stricken with consternation, only to turn to Dagfinnr with an impatient gleam in his eyes. "Dagfinnr, how much longer must we wait? All know that should Kalthéa fall, there will be none to stand between Fránir and his conquest of the whole of Norvech and her neighbours."
"Not long," Dagfinnr replied quietly, signalling for her to continue. He said to her, "Carry on, Azalea, we will hear more."
The lady nodded her head, wherefore she continued with her heart-rending tale, of death and tragedy, "We have lost the Citadel of Kalthéas, and Ynggard, along with her, so that we are left to defence all the more. It happens that with the death of her nephew, the Lady Astrid has lost a great deal of her resolve, the death of her niece, she has taken to her bed. Her last command was for me to set out for this place, to plead for aid; it happened, though, that as I departed, the enemy had begun to move the great mass of their troops west, against the principal stronghold of our Knighthood."
"And you shall have our aid," Völmung promised at once, only for him to remark, "We shall have to first see to the matter of the Darkspire, and the one entombed there beneath it."
"Agreed," Dagfinnr said at once, only to quietly remark, "Fear not, Azalea, I shall give the order for the eldest of my sons, Kardrin and Walin, who are not present herewith us, along with my nephew, Sigurðr, to return from the easternmost parts of my domains. It is there that they have been exploring the remains of the city-fortress of Helgrath. As I had hoped to give the fort over to Sigurðr for him to become my Jarl, but shall order them north-west to the assistance of the Knighthood."
"That would be most welcome, O thank you, good King Dagfinnr!" Azalea burst out earnestly, throwing herself from her seat so that she might kneel before him and take his hands in her own, kissing them as might a vassal, then as might a grateful lady.
Such was the earnestness of her gratitude that all stared on with soft expressions. Even Helgi's expression turned gentle as he looked on the beauteous young maid and the grateful tears that flowed from her eyes. Only Thormundr seemed unmoved, preferring to stroke his beard with a grimace and a troubled gleam in his eyes.
"It shall prove difficult, I imagine, to gather troops enough to send them over-ground without alerting a number of the feudal Jarls of Norvech," He commented, troubled and worried over Fránir's actions and how best they might fight back against him and his supporters. "What is more is that we do not know the composition of his troops."
"To the first, we shall journey whither by tunnels that are kept secret from the race of men, and other surface-dwellers," Dunneyrr replied proudly with a defiant, almost disdainful look in the direction of the old sorcerer.
"As to the second, I could report on the composition of those forces; many are steelier, more forceful Collubars and other breeds of serpent-men. There were also, by my count, almost a dozen Jarls and their men who also form a part of the army, and many strange, monstrous, and hideous, hairy, horned men from the distant north, drawn south by promises of wealth and riches by Fránir." Azalea informed him when she had wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, and after Dagfinnr had encouraged her to once more take up her chair. "There were also some men of strange appearance, where they come from I do not know; however, they have come as sell-swords and speak a guttural tongue and seek to destroy all that they find. They are ravenous, and of an exceedingly violent nature, and full of hatred in particular for we Kalthéan-Knights. When I say they are ravenous, it is not simply for food or drink but for our women, for those under our protection, and for our gold, silver, bronze, and all other precious objects we have. They lust for it with a hunger that the Collubar manipulate and that can never fully be sated. These strange men have also come in sizeable numbers, they slaughter and indulge in all sorts of terrible practices, and rarely bathe, and even more rarely think to revolt against the Collubar or Fránir. To the contrary, no matter how ill-used they are, they look on them as a child might their father, and look on the demonic figures who have joined them and the younger serpent-men as their brothers. These swarthy men are also well-trained as archers and make no mistake obey their commanders quite well, never questioning, and though not skilled in engineering or in battle as individuals, they make up for it by having excellent commanders and greater numbers. Once I left the lands of Kalthéa behind me, I came hither only to encounter Helgi and his troop en route to this place, and when they invited me to join them, I gratefully accepted."
"An offer we were proud to make," Helgi replied quite hurriedly, evidently quite overtaken by the beauty of the warrior-woman, who looked on him with grateful if wan eyes.
"Is there aught else we ought to know about these men who serve Fránir?" This time, it was Thorgils who spoke up, his tone soft as he scratched at his beard and frowned almost more to himself.
Thormundr remained silent, though many eyes turned to him. Stroking his beard as though he sought to tear it from his chin, he lowered his gaze. Most took this for a sign that he knew little more than they, and was frustrated by his own ignorance, which served only to worsen the dour mood in the feast-hall. Even fair-haired Skalmöld appeared deeply worried to the point of lowering her own gaze in a sign of despair.
This silent admission of defeat was a concession on the part of the two of them that deeply troubled Sigrún, who was to begin chewing on her lower lip. Worrying it, she could not help but feel frustrated. Certainly, the Kalthéan Knights were at present on the cusp of defeat, yet surely she told herself they would hold out, as they had done in the Second Wars of Darkness when the Svartálfar had reached their mountain-fortresses? At that time, the Mazoku commander of Marzorius had sought to destroy them when the Kalthéans had, from seeming defeat, charged forth, with their heroine Hildr at the head of their forces, even as the heroine Sigrún had arrived upon the scene to attack the enemy from the rear.
The Mazoku were those monsters and beasts that were said to have appeared from the east, fighting alongside the Svartálfar who enlisted their aid in the Second Wars of Darkness. These demonic creatures, said to be descended from actual demons and twisted into being by some black arts that defy any man's imagining, were said to have been far greater and fiercer in might and arcane arts than most mortal men. Some were recounted to have inhuman appearances, others appeared as ordinary men, if different, with these creatures having, however, been beaten back alongside the Svartálfar centuries ago. None had been sighted since that time, so that they had begun to fade and had become almost little more than children's stories.
Until now. Just as it had happened then in that era that they had won against the tide of darkness, so too would it happen now, Sigrún told herself, for the alternative was too terrible to consider.
"There is," Azalea admitted in a ringing voice so that she broke the silence that had followed, if briefly, so after Thorgils' words. "It happens that the men who have invaded our lands, also have begun to purge all peoples north of the Kalthéan-Mountains, that is to say, the mountain passes that serve almost to divide the realm in two. They have begun mingling and settling the monstrous folk they have brought south, Collubar, these foreigners, and others, wherever they could. Placing them not only all throughout the fields where our own people once tilled the land, but also in the fortresses they seize. It is the view of milady that they are not simply seeking to invade Norvech and Swethin to the east but building a new kingdom."
*****
The expressions of all gathered there turned ever greyer and paler the more Azalea described the horrors of what she had seen, of the great armies that had been raised against them. The greatest amongst them became queasy and full of pity for the ladies of Kalthéa. Many there were who mulled in silence what ought to be done; more than one man opened his mouth to speak, only to fall silent. And more than one lady looked at her hands, clenched them all while biting their lower lips in sorrow for those women of the north who had suffered countless losses and indignities at the hands of Fránir and his horde.
"There must be something we could do!" Sigrún exclaimed after some time, her voice full of outrage for the Knights of Kalthéa, as she had deep down always longed to join their ranks.
"There is little that we can do at present, beyond calling for my people to assemble and to send them under the command of my sons and nephew." Dagfinnr told her full of regal dignity, his expression soft as he glanced in her direction, "And we must also pray that they will hold out until they arrive."
"They must," Völmung commented quietly, "Else the rest of the realm shall fall not long thereafter."
"You are of divine blood, Völmung. Why does your ancient grand-sire not send down an army of Einherjar and Valkyries, and who knows what else, to aid us in this, our most dire hour?" Helgi burst out with unexpected exasperation, throwing his hands up into the air as he spoke.
Looking at him then, with a face full of disapproval, the blond-haired heir of the house of Völsung replied at his most harsh. "It is not for you to question the gods, or to recriminate against them, Helgi. They are indeed with us, else how could you explain how we made it so far, sit here now, and the failures on the part of our enemies to grapple with ultimate victory in spite of years of siege against Kalthéa? As to divine blood," Here he snorted, "I am no more or less divine than say you or say Thorgils, or Dunneyrr. What blood of the Allfather is in me dates back millennia and ought not to be counted for much; what ought to be counted upon is our own wits and strength in the days to come and the piety that lies in our hearts."
*****
"Well said," Dagfinnr said abruptly, whereupon he stood up and announced to all present, "Just as thou all have had each a great array of stories to tell. Each of you has recounted how you arrived here, to deliver unto us news of how Norvech has fallen into disarray and how the situation shall only grow worse, without our intervention. So too do we Dwarves have a tale to tell; one that many of you may well find troubling to hear."
Everyone listened to him with glum expressions, each of them hardly able to believe that the situation could possibly prove itself worse than they had hitherto come to believe. While he looked fairly troubled, Dunneyrr, nonetheless, when his father at last glanced in his direction, stood up with a grim smile on his bearded lips.
"It has happened that many weeks ago, we observed not only strange activities down in the Edranite Depths, when a small host of us wandered into it via the east-gate. It seemed as though, where ordinarily it is the least dangerous of all the routes into that place, someone had awoken it. Because we encountered even less danger but saw proof of a battle in the form of weapons broken and laying about all throughout the mines there. It was bizarre and strange, especially since we encountered few if any monsters or beasts there."
"I did not know you had gone down into that place; it is forbidden!" Darin objected, leaping to his feet with a cry of outrage.
"Calm yourself, Darin, I ordered Dunneyrr to investigate every week that part of the Edranite Depths," Dagfinnr reprimanded his grandson, who gaped at him. "It may seem foolish, but for some time in my youth, I noticed how the beasts in that place were in retreat, and had considered at one time expanding into it and moving the gates; however, in recent times, they have returned."
"Indeed, father," Dunneyrr affirmed with a sombre look to his nephew, "It happened that we noticed just that shortly after we entered, though we did not encounter any beasts as mentioned; however, what we discovered also were the remains of a few fingers and small bits of flesh here and there. This is unusual, as most of the beasts in that place eat all that they can find of their victims, who rarely find their way there. Suspicious, I was to propose to my father to go overland and investigate the opening to the Edranite Depths, it was there, near the lesser city of Valleifr, which my brother Ketillaug rules over, that we discovered the remains of a single man. The only one to have escaped from the Edranite Depths, he had slipped into through a new opening, within Mt-Valstein, which lies next to the mountain city of Valleifr. Suspicious, we investigated and discovered that someone had dug a new hole down into the Depths; naturally, we sealed it off as is our duty. It was then, though, just as we were en route back to Valleifr, that we were ambushed by Collubar."
"They attacked you?" Sigrún gasped, "But then why have us tell our tales first, if you had already encountered those Collubar snake-men?"
"And what are the Edranite Depths?" Alban demanded adding his own question to hers.
"We felt it necessary and natural to let our guests speak first, and to share our own tale last. It was some time ago, several months ago, that all this took place. Since then, we have maintained an eye upon each of the openings to the Depths." Dagfinnr explained with a knowing glance in the direction of his youngest son, who scratched at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture.
"The Edranite Depths are the most cursed place in all of Miðgarðr. It was once the beating heart of our Empire. Millennia ago, before it fell, it was said that the deepest parts of the Depths are where the original palaces of the first Emperors are to be found. It is also rumoured that when we lost access to these vast subterranean depths, we lost a great many treasures." Dunneyrr said, continuing on from where his father had begun.
"Yes, but what are they?" Wolffish asked impatiently.
"I was about to explain; we Dwarves once lived far deeper underground, and ruled a vast inter-continental Empire that dwarfs any and all that have succeeded it. The reason we abandoned the deeps into which we dug has its source in our quarrel many millennia ago with the demon Loki. After his daughter Hella was expelled from the distant lands of Beveriand, we began to dig deeper and deeper than ever before; it was then that we established the Empire. At its height, it spanned from distant northlands to Beveriand to the two Agenors and even Ifriquya, it is said. The tragedy lay in that we refused to pay homage to Loki, and insulted, he chose to 'prank' us as it was claimed during the reign of Emperor Thurian IV, the penultimate Emperor. This act of mischief involved a curse that perverted and twisted all the pets and livestock and many of our people, all throughout the Depths. Many of the beasts and demonic creatures down in that place are descended from those twisted by Loki, who took up residency for a time in that place to begin sowing his dark seeds all the deeper. The last Emperor was Thordrin XXVI, who, it was said, attempted to lead an army against him, but they were lost, and some say that Loki turned them all into more of his perversions. Regardless of what it was that happened to them, we Dwarves soon found ourselves banished from that place, never to return there." Dunneyrr said in a dark voice, one full of sorrow and melancholy, though his voice blazed with anger and hate when he spoke of Loki.
The tale at an end, Sigrún was stricken with a sense of horror that left her nigh on suffocated. Such a dreadful thing happened down beneath the very floors they now stood upon, she thought, hardly able to bring herself to believe them.
Yet there was something in Dunneyrr's voice and eyes, a haunted quality that purged her and others of doubt and left none in any doubt.
It was Helgi who let slip a quick chortle, a nervous gesture that was soon echoed by one of his guards, "Children's stories."
This response drew a scornful look from Aithlin, while the Dwarves stared on with disgusted expressions on their faces. "Children's stories, you say? Could children's stories reduce Dwarves, long hardened to war, and in command of the largest and most intricate empire this world has ever seen, to quivering mice? Besides, you and yours are know-nothings; those who have never entered the Depths cannot possibly understand the terrors that haunt it."
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner?"
"Sir Aithlin meant no disrespect," Vegarðr snapped at the young Jarl, "He spoke true when he said that the Edranite Depths are filled with horrors unimaginable to those from above."
Something in the old man's voice deterred Helgi, who sat back where he had begun to rise. A hint of embarrassment on his face, it was evident that he was full of remorse even as he was still outraged at the manner in which they had addressed him. Torn between wishing to reassure him that no one truly thought him a fool and the desire to mock him for his rejection of her, Sigrún chewed her lip.
Watchful of the mood within his halls, and all the tales at an end, Dagfinnr declared suddenly, "This matter is at an end; therefore, let us discuss this further at a later time. We shall reconvene on the morrow, after we have all broken our fasts."