"Sigrún did this!" Friða howled the moment she heard that Sigrún was missing.
Guðleifr could have groaned.
He was not alone in expressing annoyance towards the sister of Aghi, as Wolffish exclaimed in response to her accusation, "Do be quiet with such nonsense, Friða! No one believes she would do such a thing."
"You shan't know such a thing for certain, dog," Friða hissed at him, "But Sigrún is missing, and I will hazard a guess that no doubt her mount is missing also."
This Wolffish sought to deny, as did Gertrud and Thorgils, with it being Guðleifr who ordered Auðun to return to the fort, to inspect to see if her horse or Gyða's horse were missing. "Auðun go back to yon castle, we must know if that horse is indeed missing if only to prove the witch wrong." This Auðun did not do, instead of answering he deviated his stare. Growing impatient with him, Guðleifr barked out at him, "Auðun, what are you doing simply standing ramrod with that strange look in your eyes."
"It is only that the horse is indeed missing, I looked into that the moment I noticed the horse was missing," Auðun confessed at once, with a troubled look in his eyes.
The stare that all around him directed at him, was so stunned, so horrified that even if fire had exploded from the heavens, none might well have noticed it.
The first to overcome his shock, was Thorgils who queried, "How could this be? Her horse and your possessions are missing? Why would she seek to take them?"
"What map? I had thought that that map of Helgi's had been lost," Wolffish interrupted as he stared from one person to the next, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
It was at this time that Thorgils adopted a shameful look, and struggled to meet the gaze of the other Wolffram. At this hour Auðun interjected himself in between them, if only verbally so. "This is not the place to discuss such things I think, let us go back to the fort where I will complete my explanation."
This seemed unreasonable to some, such as Friða, who shouted at once, "So that you may cover up this murder, and do all in thy power to cover for her."
"Oh do go home Friða," Gertrud snapped; only to add, "Guðleifr you follow Auðun and there of the youths to Thormundr's home, while I escort Baggi home."
"You shan't silence me!" Friða said outraged by their attempts to shush her.
"No objections Friða, unless you have something of value to add," Gertrud retorted once more, with a pitying glance in the direction of the still weeping Baggi and his kinsmen. "Baggi is in tears, he has lost his wife and his children their mother. We must see to the dead, before we can point fingers and think of culprits."
"She is right, but once we have determined the identity of the culprit, we will have the guilty party properly punished," Holmfríðr was to add, in support also.
The women had the matter well in hand, in the view of many of the men who chose to retire to Thormundr's fort as advised. The most noteworthy were of course Guðleifr, his son Thorgils, there was also Kári the owner of the local tavern, the Wolffish, his brother Oddr and also Auðun.
None of them were wholly convinced that Sigrún could have committed so heinous a murder, and yet they were unable to discount it entirely. Most wished to believe her, this much Auðun could see at once, as he guided them into the mead-hall where just a few weeks prior they had received the dark warning from the strange fellow who appeared before them.
Worried over this fact he was to fret over what had happened, and over what fate might await Sigrún. Such was the apprehension that gnawed at Auðun that he could not quite repress it, nor ignore it so that while the others talked, he listened more than he spoke.
"Sigrún has gone, and has taken the Darkspire map, but how could she have done this if the map was taken away to the Order of Sorcery by Thormundr?" This question was asked by Thorgils, who had only just finished explaining to Wolffish and the others how he had saved the map.
His clarification on this matter, was one that awoke in some a certain hostility and irritation, as they had thought it long since gone.
It was Kári the tavern-master who voiced what they were all thinking, "This was ill-done and shame on thee, Thorgils for having left the map intact and not destroyed it at once! On top of which, you then handed it over to Thormundr to endure, what is thy burden? Shame on you Thorgils!"
"Enough, Kári," Guðleifr intervened always keen to protect his children; he was to add gravely, "The burden was not Thorgils' alone, but mine Kári. I did not burn the map at once, so that I share a portion of the blame also."
"Indeed," the older man agreed at once, saying with a scowl, "That map has wrought only devastation, death and misery to all involved."
"The map survived somehow, but if it was taken away by Thormundr how did Sigrún escape with it?" Oddr queried for all present, not yet aware of what Auðun had done, with the Wolffram receiving several approving nods from those around him.
Even Kári was compelled to agree with him, in spite of his anger regarding the map, and what had recently happened. All knew that he was close friends, with Baggi and his family so that none were at all surprised by his frustration.
It was at this time that Auðun answered, if reluctantly so, "I drew a map from memory, one that was an exact duplicate of that which we sent away with Master Thormundr."
"Why would you do such a thing?" Wolffish asked hoarsely, staring at him in utter disbelief, "Knowing full well the trouble and tragedy it has wrought."
"I did it because I had to know more, I wished to understand King Bynjarr and his successors better, and also because I felt that the map was still needed." Auðun retorted with a shrug of his shoulders, as he met the gaze of his friend evenly. "I still maintain that view, certainly the stranger had good reason to warn against it, and to call for its destruction however we cannot simply repress such a thing or burn it away. It will inevitably be found once more, and once it is it will be rediscovered by those who might not have as good intentions as we."
They all stared, with few if any of them understanding his thinking. Most such as Kári and Oddr still looked doubtful and as though they did not understand. Auðun could see in their eyes that they thought him something of a fool.
Their lowering opinion of him was made all the more evident when they turned away from him, dismissing him for a fool. If it had been Thormundr who had spoken to them in this manner, they would have agreed he mused bitterly, frustrated by their rejection.
Hardly paying them any mind, just as they preferred to ignore him, the more the talk went on for, the more Auðun inched away in the hopes of escaping the room. Keen to escape that he might make his own preparations and from there, he intended to escape from the castle so that he might accomplish something, rather than discuss it.
"We must consider the possibility that whoever did this, came from outside the village," Thorgils was saying arguing against Kári.
"I think Friða was correct in her accusations against Sigrún," Kári retorted sharply, with a growl as he continued to cross his arms over his large chest. "Sigrún has gone missing, her horse is also absent so that there can be no other person who could possibly be the murderer of Ragna."
"So you say, however what of the battering hooves that was heard, night after night before now?" Wolffish reminded him from one side.
"Oh do be quiet you dog, all know you have become over-attached to Sigrún," Kári snapped at him.
"All have the right to be heard, at such a time," Guðleifr retorted, seeking to prove himself utterly neutral in this matter.
In the end little was accomplished, with the guards declaring the meeting at an end. Wolffish and Kári glared at one another, evidently convinced that the other was being foolish, and with the two coming near to blows. To ensure that they might not do anything to worsen the situation, Guðleifr was to volunteer to escort Kári home, while Oddr and Wolffish departed together. The younger of the two brothers grimacing in the direction of father and son, who hardly sympathetic were to both remark that they would have to thank him later. Quite how, they did not know quite yet, but they only knew that it would be necessary given how close to blows Wolffish and Kári had come.
"We must be sure to have Gertrud cook something special for Oddr in the morn," Guðleifr muttered almost more to himself, just before he went to leave with Kári.
Thorgils though stopped him, with a restraining hand on his arm, a look of visible confusion on his face as he uttered, "Why is it so silent?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it has gone silent, I shan't hear the second horse that which Gyða rode on to return hither, to warn of the massacre of Helgi and his household." Thorgils remarked as he strove to listen as best he could for the horses.
"What are you babbling about? Do hurry Guðleifr," Kári hissed at the two of them, "Quite why I must have an escort back to my home, is beyond me."
Guðleifr threw his son an exasperated glance, ere he murmured to him to wait for his return. This he did, with Thorgils hardly waiting for his return before he went to investigate the stables. On his return Guðleifr was to find his son awaiting him just outside the stables, wrapped in a fur-cloak he harboured a downtrodden, worried frown on his face.
Guðleifr felt his stomach, sink down to his feet, "What is it, my son?"
"It is Auðun, he and the horse are missing."
"What? How could this be?"
"He was silent throughout our conversation, with Kári and the rest of them, I suspect he slipped away while we were distracted." Thorgils revealed in a trouble voice, brow furrowed and hand in his short beard.
The first instinct that Guðleifr had to was curse the folly of youth and to give chase after the sorcerer's apprentice, and to drag him back to the keep. His next instinctive reaction was to throw something or to break the nearest object; such was the violence of the anger that overtook him.
He knew with a glance at his son's worried expression that this instinct was unlikely to be the best one, so that he once again as with talk of vengeance against Helgi's killers, he stifled his anger. It would not do to give vent to anger, when it might be better served he thought, by trying to discover where it was the two had raced off to.
This he was to query after a moment later, after seeing the stables' interior for himself, so that he was to exclaim, "Those two fools! Where could they have gone?"
"Likely east, I followed while you were gone some of the horse-tracks," Thorgils told him if quietly so, "I think that Auðun gave chase after her, out of sentimentality and because we did not pay heed to his words."
"He would have followed that blasted stepdaughter of mine; even had we paid him more attention," Guðleifr grumbled furiously.
Contemplating the road that stretched east through the village, and out of her, Thorgils considered his words. It was his view that much as Auðun had behaved in a manner many might call foolish, others might well have accused him of being the most stupid of love-struck fools. Yet there was a part of Thorgils that could not help but question this more conventional view on the matter.
He was to ask of his father, "Should we not go after them? They will need aid and protection, especially given the nature of Sigrún."
"Hmm," Guðleifr grunted visibly annoyed wherefore he threw his hands in the air, saying as he did so, "We will decide how best to proceed on the morrow. I must speak with Gertrud, and speak to Baggi as he is the only person besides Thormundr with any horses."
Thormundr had taken the only horse he owned, on his journey Thorgils had noticed, something that he knew was the reason for his father to call for a visit with Baggi. The mayor was an excellent horse-breeder, one who had acquired the art after time spent in the south, in the lands of Valholant. There he had spent some of his youth, learning to breed, train and care for horses and on his return some decades ago, he had begun to raise the finest steeds in the region, after those of Helgi of course.
Baggi though typically held them up, and was fiercely protective of them, and rarely if ever let them out of his sight. Thorgils was not certain that the old man was likely to part with one now that Ragna had passed, as it was usually Ragna who persuaded him to lend them out (even if for a price).
"Should I return home, at once with you?" Thorgils asked, wondering about the purpose of staying in an empty castle since he knew that Gyða had decided to stay with their family, for the night.
"Stay, but for a half-shift, then join us at home, I will have need of you when we discuss this matter with our women, ere I go to look after Baggi." Guðleifr told him after mulling over his query for a moment.
Nodding his head, Thorgils might well have preferred to prefer to follow his father, than to stay to guard the empty keep, so that he sighed dispiritedly. Reluctantly he was to turn away, to return inside keen to find himself a mug of hot ale, and to warm himself by a fire.
The wind howled as before, it happened that, very night, there was to be another strange event that was to rock the village. One that was to see someone traverse once more through the whole of the village, with the hooves of this stranger's horses striking the earth with the likes of Wolffish greatly irritated by it.
"How are we to find sleep, if there is still that thrice bedamned rider, traversing our village?" He demanded outraged by this behaviour on the part of this stranger.
The stranger in question was to stop before the home of Thormundr, thereupon the hill where he was to strike the door several times. Awoken from a deep rest he had fallen before a fire, Thorgils was to make his way outside where he was to halt open-mouthed as he stared in shock at the figure that stood before him.
"Let me in, you blundering fool," Thormundr gasped just before he fell forward into Thorgils' arms.
Stunned, by the newly return of the sorcerer, he was to attempt to help the older man stand on his own, only for his hands to come away with blood. Alarmed by this, he was to hurriedly guide his friend further inside, even as the old man stumbled hardly able to remain standing. His efforts were to be rewarded by Thormundr snapping at him and treating him as he otherwise might have treated Auðun.
Once he had bound his wound, and had hurried back hither to the doors, to close them just before he returned without tarry to the side of his friend. Already asleep on his return, to find him in the same bed once occupied by Gyða, Thorgils was to struggle to determine what he ought to do. He decided in the end to remain by Thormundr's side, in the event that he should need help, also because he was worried that the old man's attackers might make their way into the keep.
This decision was to result in Guðleifr losing patience so that he came along to find the warrior in the bedchamber of the sorcerer, speaking harshly as he arrived he was to fall silent suddenly. "Have you any idea how worried thy stepmother and sister have been? What in the name of Oðinn's beard have you… is that Thormundr?"
"Yes father," Thorgils informed him wherefore he explained what had happened to his father, who was to stroke his beard thoughtfully in response.
"You did the right thing, my son," Guðleifr told his son, "This is a strange night; first two youths find themselves missing, an old woman is murdered and now Thormundr has returned. There is also the sound of hooves still echoing across the village."
"Really now? I have not heard anything from there, since I welcomed Thormundr back into his home."
"It is unmistakeable, Thorgils," Guðleifr replied apprehensively, "I may have to stay the night in the other room, rather than walk back home."
This won him a concerned look from his son, who had never heard of his father, conceding that he might feel afraid of anything at all. Intrigued by this, Thorgils was to follow his father back into Thormundr's room, where they were to wait for the old man to awaken. When this failed to happen, they were to retire to separate bedchambers to get some sleep, before they woke up early in the morning to prepare breakfast.
Thormundr awoke late in the morn'. Doing so with a start he was to at first glance about in confusion and fear, wherefore he was to calm himself when he saw the duo sitting by his bedside. Sagging back into his bed he was to smile up at them, relieved to see them he was to take some time before speaking to them.
The first person he asked after was, Sigrún, saying to them in an inquiring voice, "Sigrún, is still abed I imagine?"
"Erm Thormundr, Sigrún is not present in the fort," Thorgils revealed after glancing quickly at his father, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes.
"Really now? Mayhaps you could send for her, and recall her from her mother's home, do so Thorgils while thy father and Auðun watch over me." Thormundr replied waving his hand prepared to sink deeper into his bed, "This is of the utmost importance."
Father and son exchanged worried glances, ere they were to inform the old man if reluctantly so of how his apprentice had also abandoned the fortress. "My good Thormundr, it happens that Auðun has abandoned the fortress also, in pursuit of Sigrún," Guðleifr explained nervously.
Thormundr stared at him, an expression of utter disbelief crossing onto his face slowly, one that transformed itself into an angry one. "How could Auðun do such a thing? He is sworn to this very building as an apprentice, to leave it is to break his oaths!"
Neither man had ever heard of any such oaths, such was the secrecy that shadowed the Order of Sorcery that they could not express any contradicting words. Ignorance of the inner-workings of the Order was something both of them suffered from and had never truly found a way to cure themselves of.
Oaths were not to be undertaken lightly, Thorgils mused as he considered this revelation on the part of his friend. They could prove dangerous things, as they tended to twist and pervert destiny itself to the whims of the oath. What was more was that oaths when broken always ended in tragedy and death, or so claimed the Goði who occasionally visited the village in the summer. Harald was the name of the local Goði, a dedicated follower of Oðin well acquainted with the history of the kingdom of Norvech, and it was he who had told him of these facts. At that moment, he would have loved to have the Goði nearby to consult with him, on the question of oaths and their vast history going back to the age of Sigurðr.
"Auðun felt compelled to follow after the lady Sigrún who left by herself, with a copy of the Darkspire map," Explained Guðleifr with a worry frown on his face and brow.
"Auðun alone with Sigrún? You fools, and you call yourselves her kinsmen? What if some harm comes to them, such as those involving the breaking of his oath?" Thormundr thundered as he threw off the furs they had covered him with, so that he might regain his feet and give chase after the two youths.
"Calm thyself, Thormundr," Thorgils murmured at his most appeasing, at which time he was to be brushed aside by the sorcerer.
"Why should I calm myself? My apprentice and Gertrud's daughter are in incalculable danger! If they truly have a copy of the map to the Witch's Tower they will be in untold danger!" Thormundr exclaimed at them, at which time the exasperated Guðleifr lost what little control he had over his temper.
"What danger? Speak sense man, lest we restrain you further," Guðleifr snapped at him, wherefore the master of the fortress did as he was bidden if reluctantly so.
When Thormundr spoke it was after he had sagged in defeat, his head bowed and an air of defeat floating about his shaggy head. "The danger, of which I should speak to you of, is so unimaginable and horrible as to dwarf even the bravest, most fearless of minds. Trust me when I say when I tell you that the wickedness I have seen has left me stricken for days."
"What happened? I had thought that you had left to visit the Tower of Rauðrgard, to seek counsel with your friend Franir." Thorgils interrupted, earning him a glowering look from his father.
Shrinking back a little, Thorgils flushed red from embarrassment, the old sorcerer smiled a little wearily, in response, "You ask a great query my friend, and I will answer it. If you will allow me, I will explain what happened.
I journeyed along the 'short-road' as some of my Order dub it, and met no one along this pathway full of light. It was a journey that brought me a short distance from his great northerly Tower, I was simply relieved to have transported myself so close to the great home of my oldest friend. To have known my fellow magi Franir, in his youth was to know greatness! Never before had the Order known so brilliant a sorcerer, so witty a speaker, or so renowned a scholar. Such was his genius and fame that even in his youth; many of his works were selected for the education of the children of our Order!
The Tower of Rauðrgard was a large, series of towers, five in total set in a type of circle surrounded by a grand wall. It was into this place that I ventured, past the garden that Franir's wife once nurtured with such care before her passing more than twenty-four years ago, and which had since withered away. The Tower was built nigh on two thousand years prior, in the First Wars of Darkness when the Svartálfar first sought to conquer the whole of the world. The courtyard you must understand was more than forty meters long and thrice as wide, even as the twenty-meter thick and eighty high of the walls towered high over us. Towering higher than us, were the five spires four of which were hundred meters high with the central one nigh on twice their size.
It was therein the courtyard where Franir awaited me. To my surprise he was not alone, for Steingrímr court-sorcerer to the Friskalian Jarl Valthjófr, along with the Jarls Vragi and Ari were with him. It was with a start that I was to give away my surprise.
'Ah, my good friend Thormundr, how pleasant it is to see you,' Franir greeted me, a hint of mockery in his voice. 'I had hoped to see you, especially given the dire state of the kingdoms of the north since the death of Emperor Agmunðr the Conqueror.'
'Dire state seems a rather powerful choice of words, my friend,' I told him rather amazed by his choice of words, following present with us, 'I had thought that I might be well ahead of those who might menace them.'
'Really now? This in spite of how I was just visited by a representative of old Agnarr,' Franir replied with a raised brow. 'His representative informed me that he wished to know, if I had discovered a map, one once possessed by old Bynjarr and his heirs, until Hildend's fall almost two and a half centuries ago.'
This news was a revelation to me, as it must be to you both, I was quite disturbed as you could well imagine. I had thought that my mission was a secret one, and that I was going whither to Rauðrgard's Tower in complete and utter secrecy."
"Who is Agnarr?" Thorgils interrupted confused by the mention of the name Agnarr, having never heard it before.
"Agnarr is a former member of my Order," Thormundr answered him stiffly, visibly annoyed by his interruption. "He joined us just before the Second Wars of Darkness came to their abrupt and explosive end. At that time it was believed that most were more concerned with the actual conflict, rather than to a newborn Dwarf, who was to delve in later years into dark research. And make no mistake my friends, his research was very much dark in nature."
"Dark? What do you mean by 'dark'?" Guðleifr asked considerably more chilled than his son was by this time, by this talk of sorcerers, and wars against evil.
"His research was into the necromantic arts, along with the creation of the Collubars and their ilk," Thormundr revealed with a cough one that rocked him down to his toes and did not dissipate until Thorgils had brought him some wine to wet his parched throat. Accepting the horn with a grateful smile, before he continued, the sorcerer was to continue his clarification on the nature of Agnarr. "Agnarr's research was as you might have guessed was forbidden by the Conclave that commands the Order. Agnarr though escaped, so that in response they sent one of their highly trained hunters to slay him, this he seems to have accomplished or so I thought."
"How could you think him slain, mayhap this hunter was incompetent," Thorgils remarked with a shake of his head.
"Mind thy tongue boy," Thormundr reprimanded adding a moment later, "The Order once upon a time had a great deal of influence throughout the north. The line of the Völsungs since Bynjarr worked closely with them during the Wars of Darkness, however after they lost their throne two centuries and a half ago, everything began to go wrong. The kingdoms fell into internal conflict, that is they were all united under Agmunðr, the son of an influential Jarl of Arnrige, who began the process of bringing them together, the two ruled well, while they occupied their thrones. It happened that the Emperor Agmunðr's heirs ruled poorly and lost ever more power, and land until the kingdoms broke away from their 'Empire'."
"We know this," Guðleifr grumbled annoyed.
"My going through these details has a purpose Guðleifr! It was Agmunðr's heirs who began to hunt down sorcerers, and to chase out the Order's representatives from their courts. And none were to do more to hunt them down, and push them out from the kingdom than Brandr Bǫlræsir, the most wicked of those who had followed after Agmunðr."
"Why did the Order not fight back?" This time it was Thorgils who spoke up, rather than Guðleifr.
"Because they have a policy of tolerance, one which means they do not interfere in the lives of the people of individual kingdoms. To war with a people, is to interfere rather more directly than they like to, so that they felt it better to completely withdraw save for the odd location here and there." The old sorcerer answered sharply, with a hint of bitterness. "Some such as Franir though, refused to leave Norvech and were to defy King Brandr, who was unable to penetrate his citadel's walls and was forced to turn away. This along with his ambitions in Brittia meant that he preferred to look to the south-west rather than to the north-east, so that Franir was left untouched. It is for this reason that Franir was also elevated to the post of Archmage of Norvech, and has greater prestige within the Order than any other. It was for this reason that I sought to consult with him, and was disturbed to find Agnarr's followers of old all about the Archmage. Each of them was of a poisonous nature, with the likes of Vragi of Fehugrár the wealthiest man in the Kingdom of Swethin, and Ari the most connected noble in the realm of Swethin, with the latter also the last descendant of King Gunther, brother of Guðrun.
Valthjófr was to step forward, to inform me in no uncertain terms that, 'I have been approached once more by Agnarr, who wished to know if as one of the last sorcerers in Norvech if you might be interested in an alliance of some sort.'
'What? How could this be, if Agnarr is dead? I had thought he passed away decades ago,' I retorted utterly confused.
'To the contrary, and it is this matter that we wished to speak to you,' Franir intervened rather more smoothly than his wealthier good-brother, for the two were related by virtue of Franir's marriage to Valthjófr's younger half-sister.
'Really, the two of you ought to let Thormundr settle himself into place, before you bury him with dire news from the east.' Franir intervened with such smoothness, as to disarm even the most hostile of beasts or the least intrepid of birds down from a nearby branch. I must be honest with the both of you, there are few men half so charming, with as soothing a voice as my friend Franir, who was to allay my suspicions and encourage me to lay down my effects in chambers set aside for me.
It was the following day, after I came down after a fitful night, I was greeted by Agnarr, who was to ask me if I had slept well. Naturally, I told him I had struggled to do so, and was to ask of him rather irritably, 'The best was quite uncomfortable and most unpleasant. In the future, my dear Franir I would advise you to do something to improve thy keep's bedding.'
'I shall make a note of that for Densharr,' He was to answer me with a disdainful sniff when he spoke of his servant, 'If I could find the miserable feline.'
'Pardon?' You must know that Densharr was the only servant, who worked for the renowned Franir, quite why this was the case I did not know. I knew only that Densharr had come from northern Norvech, and was a fierce warrior one who was quite lowly and worm-tongued always keen to speak in silky tones to his Master.
'Bah, never mind the feline, I would speak to you of the purpose of thy visit my old friend,' He was to tell me in an eager voice. Suddenly, he was much more sinister, seemed less friendly than he had appeared the day prior, so that he almost took on the appearance of a giant spider, the more our conversation went on for. 'I wish to speak to you of Agnarr, he has sent a message with the lord Ari, requesting that we join him in the slaying of his enemies. You see, he has united with the northern Jarls and has recently had himself crowned King of Friskalia, he also has the support of the Collubars, those who survived the purge two and a half centuries ago.'
You must know my friends, that at that moment I felt such a great flood of guilt at the knowledge that I had confided what I knew of the map, and its existence to him. It was then that I understood what it was that had happened; my oldest friend had succumbed to evil.
'Join me old friend, with your knowledge of Norvech, and influence there combined with my own influence and the power of the Old Witch, we shall carve for ourselves kingdoms of our own!' Franir continued happily ignoring the horror that had begun to spread its way onto my face.
'But Franir, what of our oaths as sorcerers? We shan't rule over kingdoms, no sorcerer may do so!'
'Ah but what of the King of Korax? Was he not given his own kingdom, and granted permission by the Order?'
'He received a special dispensation after his marriage to the heiress of the kingdom and the three Estates of that realm voted him their ruler.' I argued knowing at once that it was a futile act to do so, for I could see that Franir was by this time too far gone.
His eyes flashed with anger, for he had never much cared for disagreements even in debates, I could see that this tendency of his had only worsened. So that he was to declare in a thunderous voice that, 'The time for the Order is at an end, Shaltair has led it down into ruin and darkness my friend.'
'Yet he is one of the most celebrated leaders it has ever had,' I protested my gaze going to the map that I had brought down from my bedchambers. I had brought it down to show it to him at greater length, thinking to point out to him the dangers of it and my concerns regarding it.
'That fool has failed our great Order, I say to you that he had one duty; to maintain the integrity of we sorcerers and to maintain order and control over all the disparate members that populate it.' He retorted in a great booming voice, one that could well have frightened even the bravest of knights from North-Agenor or Beveriand.
Stunned by the revelation of his contempt, it happened though that while he spoke I espied a nearby torch, and was to with a glance down at the map and back, made my decision."
"You cast it in the flames?" Thorgils guessed at once, surprised at which time he offered the thirsty sorcerer another drink from the drinking-horn he had held onto.
"Indeed."
"Then he attacked you?" Guðleifr asked of their old friend at once, thinking along the same lines so to speak as his son.
"Not exactly, he preferred to leave the task to his associate, the sepulchral Stálvǫrðr, the Jarl of Death as most men who know of him, have long since dubbed him." Thormundr replied at once, with a sigh adding with a furrowed brow. "He is a man of a sinister nature, one who never misses his mark, and during my escape I discovered that he had despatched one of his underlings, Stálvǫrðr I mean, to Heiðran under the belief that there was a secondary map."
"Why would he believe there is a second map?" Guðleifr wondered confused by this particular revelation on the part of his friend.
"Because, he is of the view that I could not bring myself to burn, the first one," Thormundr confessed rubbing at his temple. "I had felt confident that all was well that is until you told me of this secondary map drawn by that imbecilic student of mine, Auðun."
"What is to be done now?" Thorgils asked of the two men, uncertain of how best to proceed so worried was he that it took him a moment to notice that Thormundr had fallen asleep.
Thormundr slept for many hours, with the two guards preferring to keep his tale to themselves, along with the fact that he had returned a secret. It was the next day that they found that the village had hardly calmed down, after Friða's accusations against Sigrún.
Gertrud for her part, was horrified that so many could think so poorly of her daughter, certainly the two had of late begun to clash yet there remained in her a great deal of love for her eldest child. It was as he held her, as she gave vent to a great outpouring of grief that Guðleifr made the decision to go after her wayward daughter.
He did not tell her just how dire the situation was, but did say to her when she had ceased her weeping, shortly before lunch. "Gertrud I understand that you are quite worried about your daughter, and would propose to thee that I go whither into the forest, to give chase after her."
The offer was so kind, so sincere as to disarm the fiercest of all the women of Heiðran. "What did you say, Guðleifr? You would do that for me? Oh please husband, I beg of you!"
"But of course," Guðleifr promised at once, without a second's thought.
And so it was that he set out shortly after lunch, doing so after she had packed a proper lunch for him, and he had made certain that he would not be followed by any of his neighbours (or his youngest child).
When he went to leave though, he was to be stopped by Gertrud, who was to cling to him in a show of desperation and sorrow. "I have changed my mind, Guðleifr you shan't leave me also!"
"All will be well, my love, I will go find Sigrún, and return hither with her before long, and will also drag behind us if need be Auðun," Guðleifr promised her as he held her tightly against him. His tone so typically rough, and full of laughter, was filled with uncharacteristic tenderness, as he spoke to his wife. "Gertrud, I swear to you, I will return soon."
"Freyvar promised the same," Gertrud said quietly to her husband.
"I am not Freyvar and will not leave you alone," Guðleifr promised once more, before he released her, and turned to leave. "Give Myrgjǫl my regards; I hope to return before the new moon, to fresh fish and mayhaps I will take the time to find a fresh deer so that we might celebrate our return."
"Do try not to be too harsh on them," Gertrud said then though there were still unshed tears in her eyes.
With one last promise to return he left, going away whither into the forest and away from the home he had known for most of his life and the wife he had cherished for more than a decade.
The news that he had left was to sweep across the village at an alarming speed not long thereafter, with the likes of Wolffish and his kinsmen worrying over the reason for this, others such as Friða became at once filled with an almost demonic rage. She did not trust him and guessed at what might be the cause for his departure.
Her anger only quintupled when she found out that, Baggi had agreed to loan him a horse that he might use, to speed him on his way after Sigrún and Thormundr's wayward apprentice. It happened that the news remained hidden from the likes of Thormundr himself, for almost a day and a half. During which time, he was to recover considerably as he went from being bedridden to complaining loudly about how disorganised his library now was, to also fussing over all the myriad other 'mistakes' Auðun had committed in his absence.
It happened that when he learnt of the news of Guðleifr's departure, he exclaimed with a shout, "That fool! Thrice as foolish as those he intends to pursue, away with you Thorgils! I must be away!"
"Away? Where to?" Thorgils wondered confused.
"Why to pursue that father and sister of yours, and that imbecilic apprentice of mine, of course," Thormundr snapped at him, having no patience for conversation or arguments.
"But you are still injured," Thorgils protested.
"Bah, it is no matter!"
It was with a heavy sigh that the son of Guðleifr realised with an almost equally weighty heart that he would have to follow after the old man down the road. Thormundr might well have gone thither along the eastern road, just as the three who had inspired such ire in him had journeyed before him.
"If you insist on this decision, Thormundr I will have no other choice but to accompany you," Thorgils told him sharply.
Thormundr resisted this counsel, yet after almost an hour of argument, he was at last convinced that he might need a guard or two. Counting Thorgils among them at once, aware that he could not leave without him, he was to tell the younger man. "Very well, though choose the other guard with care, mayhaps the lady Gyða might be suitable."
"Hmm," Thorgils replied before he left though he did not go in search of Helgi's foster-daughter, but rather someone else. This was how he soon found himself before his closest friend's house, shouting vulgarities and indignities at him. "Wolffish you filthy cur, come out and greet me lest I burn thy house full of fellow maggots down about your flea-infested ears! Never have I known a lazier, more incompetent, more undesirable fellow or a more cowardly fellow in all my years! Why, I should say that what inspired such dread in thee years ago, was not the thought of leaving these hills but rather the notion of Brittia's monks, or girls fighting back against you!"
There were more insults, many of which cannot be repeated and all of which served to anger not only Wolffish, but also his mother and brothers. Most of whom were familiar with Thorgils' strange habit of shouting obscenities to get peoples' attention, yet they still succumbed to anger at that moment.
Throwing himself out the door to his long-house, Ragna's eldest son came out bearing the same double-headed axe he had wielded so formidably against the Collubar. "There had best be a reason for thy obscenities and accusations Thorgils, less I shall make it that thy father and stepmother shall bury a son before the dawn!"
Seeing how enraged his friend was, and that he had his axe with him, the stepson of Gertrud was to say to him, "Ah good, I am glad to see you are already prepared for the journey. Come along, and do not tarry Wolffish, time is of the essence!"
"What?" And when Thorgils had repeated himself, he asked confused, "Have you gone daft Thorgils? Where are we headed?"
"I will explain along the way, but I can only say at present that my father has gotten it into his head, to give chase after my stepsister." Seeing that his friend was familiar with this fact already, he was to add for good measure, "Thormundr as you know has returned hither from his journey to visit with Franir. He is insistent that he give chase, after him and the other two. But we have need of another guard, other than myself."
The weather was mild at this time of night, with the wooden building behind him which had withstood more than a dozen winters, and that creaked with every heavy breeze that threw itself against it. It was with a start that Thorgils at last noticed the blinking, glimmering wolfish eyes of his friend's family that stared out at him.
The howling wind was so soft, so quiet that it almost lulling him to sleep whilst standing, in the silence that followed. "Go now, Wolffish," Holmfríðr hissed at her son who started and glanced behind him, to find his mother staring at their guest. "It ought to be only for a few days, correct Thorgils?"
"Yes exactly, we ought to have returned just before Yule," Thorgils affirmed at once, after leaping a little at the sound of her voice, shaken out of his reverie.
"But-"
"You refused once before, and that was because there were none to care for thy family, at that time yet now Oddr is old enough to take thy place, my brother." Thorgils told him, only to glance over his shoulder in the direction of the fort, "I shall have need of thy help."
Wolffish looked to him then, stared him intently in the eye before he glanced back to his family, found them encouraging him to venture away wherefore he turned his dark gaze to the sea. It was to it that he looked, eyes half focused and distant.
Thorgils knew it best to keep silent, aware of the battle that waged within his friend's heart, likewise aware that he was no longer there with him, but several years prior when he leapt from the long-ship's portside and swam back to shore. This sudden burst of homesickness just before the voyage, had turned the Wolffish into a figure of local mockery at the time. A reputation that had remained until recently, when others had seemed him almost go berserk in the mountain battle against the Collubars.
At last something seemed to shift in the eyes of Wolffish, who at last nodded his head slowly.
The two men thus left the home of Wolffish behind them, the two refusing to stop to say farewell to Thorgils' stepmother and family. It was preferable he mused, as he guided his silent friend aware that this departure would likely be painful for his home loving friend. The trouble was that the last battle had proven that there was no warrior quite like the Wolffish, and also that there was no one else, he could depend upon half so much as he should things turn foul.
"Should we not say farewell to thy sister and her mother?" Wolffish asked with almost equal reluctance to Thorgils' own.
Having been trying to be courteous, as he was nervous that his dearest friend might just turn around and go racing back thither to his home, he was to reply. "No, it is for the best as I would not have the heart to leave if I were to see Myrgjǫl's face."
Wolffish said no more, preferring to fall once more into a brooding silence. Journeys were never easy things for him to go on, and since the last one he had endeavoured on, Thorgils had come to feel an equal apprehension about leaving. Life may have been quiet, in their small village but it was a good life, one of ease and warmth.
"Good, you chose a good companion," Thormundr said to them, ere he asked of them, "What of horses?"
"Give me a few minutes, and I shall return with two more," Thorgils promised just before he turned and left to go find the necessary mounts. When he returned, it was with the finest of Baggi's horses, with the young man cheerfully refusing to answer what questions his companions had regarding his ability to lay claim to them. "They were lent, as Baggi feels rather generous to-day."
"Meaning you stole them," Wolffish accused.
"Borrowed Wolffish," Thorgils corrected at once, "Borrowed, for I am no thief and I intend to return them to him before long."
"Bah, never mind we shall only need them for a few days I imagine, therefore enough of this, let us be away before Stálvǫrðr's murderous lackey reaches the village and strikes at us!" Thormundr proclaimed loudly, a hint of exasperation in his voice at all the delays their journey had already endured.
Away they thus went, but it was not to be unhindered or without troubles at the outset, for though none of them, took notice of it, due to the howling wind they were in fact already being pursued. So impatient were they to begin this quest, so keen to go forth and return soon, to better plan how best to counter Franir and his strange clutch of allies, and to return to celebrate Yule that they paid rather less attention than they ought to have, to their surroundings, for which they would over the course of their adventure pay dearly for.