Libelle climbed the frozen steps of Uppsala, her horse behind her, both taking short steps and carefully watching their feet. If either were to step in the wrong place, they would simply slip and probably fall to their death. The double doors of the monument were in view, and the exhausted pair both seemed to take a breath of relief. Her armor had become frosty, and her eyelashes were sticking together in the cold. Each breath resulted in a puff of hot air, and the cold was stinging her lungs and making it painful to breath.
It had been nearly two weeks since she had left Gaalin standing like a fool in a scorched wheat field. Her journey to Uppsala had taken longer than expected, and heavy storms had forced her to seek shelter more than she had cared for. Typically, she would travel to Uppsala in the early fall to visit with the priests of the Gods, conversing with the Gods and spending several days sacrificing to honor them.
The height of the temple within the mountains made it difficult to reach, and more than half the year the temple was covered in snow. The climate this high up was colder than anywhere else in the land, and during early fall was the time when there was the least amount of snow. The frigid temperatures were marginally less freezing, making the yearly pilgrimage slightly more tolerable.
Libelle led her horse up the final slope of stairs and pushed open the heavy door, letting her horse walk past her into the warmth of the building. She stepped in after him and shut the door behind her, sending a loud thud to echo into the main hall. Her horse shook its entire body, sending the build up of snow and frost onto the floor. She patted her armor down and pulled off her wool cloak, setting it near the fire on a high hook to dry.
Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she turned to see the Seer, Davyn. He was the high priest of the Gods and governed the other priests within the temple. She had not seen him for almost three months; the last time they had spoken was during her pilgrimage. "The main hall of Uppsala is not a stable, slayer."
She shrugged, "You're right, it's not...But it would make a fine one."
Davyn did not find any humor in her comment and stood on the opposite side of the room with his hands crossed together. He waited patiently as she shook the snow and frost from herself, then joined her as she stood next to the fire in the main hall to warm her frozen fingers.
"If you're here unannounced like this, you must need something?" he spoke, his voice elderly and wise, his thick accent much more proper in comparison to hers.
"Yes, it's rather urgent."
His eyes never left the flames. "It must be something serious then."
"Yes, it is." She rubbed her cold hands together and then blew into them, the heat from her breath stinging the chilled nerves. "It's about Eskil."
Davyn smiled, his shaved face wrinkling with the gesture. "Isn't it always? Come, Vegeir will surely want to hear about this if it's such an important matter."
Libelle followed him as he turned and walked from the main hall, his footsteps muffled beneath his heavy robes. Talismans around his neck clattered, the carved animal bones signifying his place as head priest to the Gods. "Vegeir is down from the peaks then? He doesn't do that very often anymore. What's he up to?"
"Speaking with the priests. It is rare, but occasionally he does travel down to the courtyard to keep us company." He walked past a large pillar before approaching another set of twin doors, turning and waiting for her as she took a moment to pay her respects to the large wooden and stone carvings that depicted a few of their gods; Odin, Freyr, and Thor.
Despite there being a large lineage of gods, Uppsala displayed statues of only three. The remaining gods and goddesses were conversed with through talismans, smaller shrines, and through the priests. They were capable of going into a deep trance, delving into the empty world where man and God could speak.
Her conversion to paganism had taken years, born to a dying race of elves that worshiped deities who were now unknown to her. Adopted by a kind Nordic couple, she was raised as a pagan; however, she had to wait until she was of age to convert to the religion she held dearly. She bowed before the statue of Thor, praying to the God of Thunder and Battle to aid her in her upcoming fight.
Davyn nodded to her when she stood up straight and returned to his side. He pushed against the heavy lumber and allowed her to walk down the steps into the snowy courtyard. She paused in front of the remaining priests, taking a moment in front of each one to clasp her hands together and give them a slight bow. Olief, Kirk, and Jolgeir returned the gesture, however, their expressions were much more placid than hers.
She walked towards the center of the courtyard, stepping through the deep snow drifts to approach Vegeir who sat perched at the top of a tall cliff. He was one of only a few dragons from the islands who would take the time to converse with mortals, and one of very few beings she could trust. His snow colored scales practically blended him into the scenery, and if it were not for his movement and his voice, one could easily mistake him for a large, oddly shaped rock.
A gust of wind kicked up all the loose snow and pushed it into the air, creating a small twister that danced about. The courtyard was always cold, but the once tall walls that surrounded it were now crumbled down into piles of rubble. A trio of large stone pillars held a large fire pit, which they all seemed to stand ever closer to. The large fire radiated a lot of heat to warm them when each gust of wind threatened to chill them to their bones.
Vegeir nodded at Libelle, and when he spoke, his voice carried out to her in the wind. "Welcome, slayer, you have traveled to the temple at quite an odd time. Do you come to pray to the Gods?"
She shook her head. "I am sorry, Vegeir, but I have come here today for other reasons. A rather urgent matter."
"Oh?" he asked, his ancient voice rumbling. "What reason is that?"
She pulled her pack from her shoulder and opened the leather flap, reaching in and rummaging around for the one thing she had been working so hard on for the last few weeks. She pulled her hand from her bag, and with it came an ivory-papered scroll with gold ends. She held it up to the dragon whose gaze never seemed to change.
"What is that?" he asked.
"A ritual. It combines great magic and the power that the gods have lent me."
Vegeir's eyes widened, and he leaned further in towards her. Davyn spoke next, disbelief and annoyance breaking through his tone of voice. "Slayer, the gods do not simply lend their power to all those that ask. What you are saying is lunacy."
"Yes, it may be a tad crazy. But, if you listen to my story you will all understand."
Vegeir remained close to her as he examined the small scroll. "Go on, slayer."
She inhaled, "Eskil is up to something. He has been plotting something evil for months now. I don't know what it is he plans, but it is not good. Two weeks ago, an ancient dragon attacked Edinburgh on Eskil's command. It did not speak of anything wise, it was nothing more than a pawn in a game; it said so itself.
"It attacked and then waited; waited for me to come. It was drawing me out for some ill plot. Moments later, Eskil appeared. He could have killed me in an instant, yet he did not. He spoke and he...then he left. I did not know what to do, but if he'd wanted me dead, he had his opportunity. It makes sense now, especially when I think about it. For months dragons have been attacking towns at random and killing townsfolk and livestock before disappearing. They never seem to return for their meals, not unless I am summoned to that location. Eskil is testing me, right?"
Davyn nodded. "Yes, it sounds like he is. But for what reason?"
"I don't know. The reason behind that devil's actions is beyond my understanding. But I've been planning, trying to find a way to defeat that vile creature. He cannot be killed, this much I know. I have spoken with the Gods, Odin and Borr."
His eyes widened as she continued. "Búri created dragons around the time Odin's sons, Thor and Loki were born. Eskil was the first dragon to be created, this I am sure you know."
"Correct, I am aware of my history, slayer."
She sighed, "What many may not know, what I didn't know...is that Eskil is the vessel of the gods, it's what his name means anyways. Búri created dragons to be a companion to the Nords, and it did start out that way, however, now we've been warring with each other for thousands of years. Vegeir, the gods want the war to end just as much as you or I want it to."
Vegeir nodded. "I believe that, man and dragon never would have gone to war if it had not been due to that unfortunate...event."
"I've heard the stories, Vegeir. Eskil's concubine or something was killed during a peace talk."
Vegeir spoke again, "Some things are not so simple, slayer."
"Odin is having his son aid me, lending me his knowledge and strength. And Loki knows of magic that will help us defeat Eskil once and for all."
"This is madness, slayer," Davyn growled.
"Look, you need to..." She shook her head with a sigh, trying to stay on topic. "Vegeir, you know the turmoil that boils in my soul each time I am faced against one of your kin. I do not like killing the dragons. I have found great allies with some of you, but others are still stuck in the old ways. They want nothing more than to have mortals become an extinct race, a pile of ash and bone for them to nest on. You know I must not let that happen."
Vegeir and the priests nodded in agreement. "So what is this plan of yours?" Davyn asked with a frown.