Dolan and Cathal sail to the shore of Njorldar with the band of Nomads from the Gautrakka clan. The nomads guide them through the tundra and taiga, leading them to the walls of Aaldvika. The nomads depart; Cathal and Dolan find lodgings in the city.
The next morning, the two of them go to the market at the city’s southern gate. There they search for a caravan to join on the road to Veikanger, the greatest city of Hogunmark, and the Yngvi’s seat of power. They have no luck for most of the morning, until an old man named Magnus, travelling with his grandson Wulfhere, offers a spot on his cart for the two of them. Magnus refuses payment, so Cathal vows to protect them in exchange, giving his name as Hakon Hakonsson. He introduces Dolan, much to the man-at-arms’ chagrin, as a mute named Dolf. Dolan, though he is learning the language, still has an atrocious accent, and Cathal believes discretion is best until they reach Veikanger.
On the road through the great northern forest, Magnus and Cathal speak of a number of things. Magnus tells Cathal that Wulfhere’s parents and siblings perished in a hall-fire, and they two are all that remains of the family. They make for a hamlet not far from Veikanger, where a friend of Magnus’ has offered him land to settle an old debt. Cathal asks about the unrest he and Dolan witnessed or heard tell of elsewhere in Rjurik. Magnus is surprised to hear of Jankaping, but says Hogunmark is uneasy as well, if still relatively peaceful. Cathal asks of news out of Veikanger, and Magnus says the city is quiet, and the Lord’s Hall is in mourning, though for what, nobody outside knows.
A day or so outside of Magnus’ hamlet, they find the road blocked by a large, fallen tree. Cathal and Dolan collect their arms. Cathal tells Magnus and Wulfhere to hide among the piles of furs in the cart-bed. Sure enough, a ragged band of outlaws, led by a scarred and weathered man, steps out of the tangled woods. They demand payment for passage. Dolan whispers to Cathal in Anuirean that he has spotted a small number of archers flanking them in the woods. Cathal, though sure he and Dolan could make short work of the bandits, is loath to place Magnus and his grandson in danger. He haggles for a moment with the bandits’ leader, worried that eagerness to comply could be interpreted as an attempt to hide greater wealth. The bandit offers to waive the fee in exchange for the sword Cathal took from the Fulcairn hoard, miraculously retained after the wreck of the Anora. Cathal refuses, and pays the toll in full. The bandits prove reasonable, remove the roadblock, and let them pass with no further issue.
They reach Magnus’ hamlet, and to thank Cathal and Dolan for paying off the bandits and saving he and his grandson, Magnus offers to pay for their lodgings at the local inn before leaving to get his new home in order. He will not take no for an answer, so Cathal and Dolan head to their lodgings, asking Magnus to join them later for supper.
They share a simple but satisfying meal, and Cathal reveals his true identity to Magnus. Magnus had been aware Cathal was lying, and forgives him for it. Cathal explains that he is a close friend to Fulgrim of the Yngvi, and that in return for Magnus’ unfailing decency, he and Wulfhere would be well provided for. They part amicably. Cathal and Dolan rise the next morning and are given a pack of supplies by the barmaid. They leave before mid-morn and make way to Veikanger.
Upon reaching Veikanger, Cathal is nearly overwhelmed with relief from a homesickness he had not realized he felt. The city is rustically beautiful. Where Tariene had been pastoral and decorous, alight with vibrant pennons and banners, Veikanger is a city and a forest both, gold and red with the autumn leaves of birch and maple, green with the needles of spruce and fir. Its wooden houses and buildings are festooned with carvings, each beam a work of art unto itself. It radiates from a high, wooded hill, dotted with waterfalls and lined with fast-flowing streams. Atop the central mound, Þeotanheall, the cyclopean manse of the Yngvi, rises defiantly out of the canopy and into the clear autumn sky, its central support beam jutting from either end, capped at each with a proud, bronze, wolf’s head.
The city itself is more somber than Cathal remembers, its people quiet and insular. Some sorrow has them in its grasp. He and Dolan climb the spiraling path to Þeotanhall’s gate, whereupon they meet a pair of Yngvi huscarls standing guard. The older one leans sleepily against his spear, while the younger steps sternly forward, demanding their names. Cathal ignores him and calls out, cheerfully and vulgarly, to Fulgrim. “STOP POLISHING YOUR BALLS AND COME TO THE GATE, YOU LAZY OROG’S FART.”
The younger huscarl is somewhat angered by Cathal’s apparent lack of respect, but the other warrior steps in before things escalate. His name is Egil, and he is a long-time friend of both Fulgrim and Cathal. He recognizes the Fulcairn and the two embrace, sharing greetings. Cathal introduces Dolan as a great warrior and friend in his own right, and asks audience with Fulgrim. Egil leads them into the hall and calls for the prince.
When Fulgrim appears, he looks almost a ghost. His eyes sag, his skin is pale, and his muscles are leaner than they were the summer of the Wilder Tourney. Nevertheless, he welcomes Cathal with great warmth, embracing his erstwhile brother and proclaiming joy that the anuirean has come north again. He leads Cathal and Dolan from the great hall to his inner chambers. As they pass through the rooms, they meet a darkly beautiful woman in robes and furs, necklaced with bones, eyes shaded. Cathal offers a jest in greeting, and is troubled when Fulgrim admonishes him for it. The woman is a druid, her name Njorna. Cathal apologizes, but wonders when the queen’s hall became so serious.
When they reach Fulgrim’s rooms, Cathal asks Dolan to remain outside for a time while he and Fulgrim speak. Fulgrim tells Cathal he is relieved to have someone he can be totally honest with, and begins to speak of what befell Queen Freila. A few years past, she had begun to have visions, seemingly prophetic. She took Njorna into her service as a personal seer, and spent much time with the druidess attempting to discern the meaning of her dreams. She spoke of the prophesies of Wjulf, the first Yngvi, and showed great worry. Then, one day, months ago, she suddenly departed, alone, saying only she went on a quest. She had disappeared, and the jarls of Hogunmark called a moot to determine the land's future. Fulgrim asks Dolan to come back in, and tells them their arrival is uncanny, as the moot is scheduled for the following day. The three of them discuss the moot, Cathal imploring Fulgrim not to give up his mother for dead. They disperse, a small feast is held in Cathal’s honour, and they retire for the night.
The next day, the moot gathers. It is held on a broad stone circle, ringed with stone seats, and carved with runes and knots, below Þeotanheall. City-folk and concerned travellers, all Rjuven, gather around to listen while Jarls from every corner of Hogunmark take their places and prepare to speak. Cathal recognizes many; Jarl Heimdjor, his clan long an ally to the Yngvi; Jarl Jarvyll, long their rival; Jarl Gautrakka, whose kinsmen led Cathal and Dolan through Njorldar, and last Jarl Rolulf, whose son once attempted to steal Cathal’s bloodline and now feeds the roots of Valkenheim. The others he had had rare occasion to meet; Otryff, Hjarni, Halskorrik, and Aegilsgaard. A wizened and powerful druid named Thorjak, who Cathal knows and likes well, stands by, overseeing the discussion. A stone seat stands empty for the lost clan of the Trygvaar, who now fight under the banner of the White Witch.
Before proceedings begin, Cathal approaches Jarl Gautrakka to offer thanks for the aid of his kinfolk, particularly praising Alfhilde. Gautrakka is delighted to hear the old woman still lives, and appreciates Cathal’s thanks. The Jarls take their places, and Fulgrim steps forward to talk.
The prince puts on a brave, almost quarrelsome front, threatening retribution for any who attempt to take advantage of his house. He reiterates that Freila was alive when last he saw her, and that he still held leadership of Hogunmark by law.
Jarl Jarvyll stepped up next, explaining that the queen is too long absent, and a new monarch must be chosen, lest Hogunmark tumble into chaos like the rest of Rjurik. He respectfully but strongly condemns Fulgrim for stalling.
Cathal steps forward from the crowd, the right being his as a thegn of the kingdom. He first asserts his right to be among them, allowing that he is not Rjuven by birth but has been made so by honour, blade, and blood. He then offers his experience among the Anuirean court to lend credence to his following council. He asks Jarvyll to leave off the choosing of a new monarch until the spring, warning that the upheaval such a transition could cause might break an already unstable kingdom, at a time when cohesion was most critical, before the long want of winter.
Rolulf spits venom at Cathal, claiming he is not Rjuven, he knows not their ways. He says he is but a boy with no real wisdom to offer the lords of Hogunmark.
Cathal acknowledges the bad blood between Rolulf and he, but names the Jarl his neighbor. He says that when calamity looms, Rolulf is as much his kin as any Hogunr. He then speaks to the battles he has fought in the eastern forests against the beasts of the Blood Skull Barony, of dealing with the emperor and the archduke in Anuire, of contending with monsters and awnsheghlien. He once again implores the moot to wait until spring to choose a new leader. He then declares that he will undertake a quest to find queen Freila, though winter howls near, and he will return her to Veikanger, dead or alive. Jarvyll challenges him, saying he speaks for Fulgrim because Fulgrim cannot, and that his outbursts mark him an impatient boy. Cathal replies “Do we Rjuven not desire this of our thegns? Boldness of voice and action?” and turns on his heel, putting his back to Jarvyll. He strides off of the platform to take his place behind Fulgrim. The seer, Njorna, stands silent beside him.
Jarl Heimdjor steps forward next. He speaks calmly, with wisdom and strength. He councils patience and prudence, and greatly reminds Cathal of Gaelin Isilvere. He does, however, turn to Fulgrim and demand that a decision of some kind be made, that Hogunmark needs to be ruled.
The prince once again takes the centre of the circle. He stands firm and speaks proudly. He states that he will rule in Freila’s stead until a vote can be held in the spring, and reveals that she divested the whole strength of her bloodline to him before she departed. The moot is struck dumb by this revelation. The passing of blood is unheard of in Rjurikan custom, and many Jarls are angered by Fulgrim’s revelation. Fulgrim raises a hand and speaks further, his voice thunder splitting the gusts of dissension. He proclaims that he will release his mother’s strength into Cathal, merely as a vessel to hold it, so no attempt on his life can claim the power of the Yngvi, and should Cathal be slain the power will simply return to the earth, and cannot be claimed by any bloodthief. Cathal is taken aback, and becomes fraught with anxiety. His past failures give him pause to accept such responsibility, but he steps forward reluctantly.
The druid Thorjak performs the ritual on the spot, before all of those gathered. Cathal’s strength is not augmented, he serves merely as a container for Freila’s power. Fulgrim then puts voice to his decision: Cathal will go forth into the wild, into winter, to seek Queen Freila. Should he not find her, should he return with her corpse, or should he not return at all, come spring, the Crown of Hogunmark will pass to its next monarch, whoever that may be.
No comments:
Post a Comment