Sejuani's head hit her chest with a muted whuff and she jerked awake. The black fingers of sleep stroked her eyelids in time to the swaying of Bristle's back, however she fought the urge to close her eyes. It was tempting to sleep on Bristle's saddle, she had many times before, but circumstances were different as was her company. The four travelers, with the boar included, trudged through knee-deep snow towards an elusive destination. The Ursine village had been thought to have been located a half-day's walk from Winter's Claw, though with the wind whipping them from every side it was hard to stay on track. Sejuani used the ragged mountain peaks as a marker for them to reach before nightfall.
For the past few hours none in the party had complained. Morale seemed to be holding up nicely, albeit on a taught thread. Soraka trailed a few meters behind Bristle and his rider while Illaoi plodded on tirelessly beside them. The priestess had taken up to chanting in a tongue none in the party could understand. To Soraka's ears it sounded like a passionate conversation with an unseen partner, perhaps her god?, and she did not dare break the communion. Sejuani felt rather than heard the words. Accompanied with the swaying of the saddle and the low incantation, it was all the right conditions to induce sleep on even the most stoic of souls. Perhaps Sejuani could just close her eyes for one second...
Whuff. Sejuani jolted awake.
"I didn't enjoy drugging anyone, that's not a lie." Soraka commented. "It should leave your system in a day or two and you'll feel fine. You have to understand it was not only for your own good, but everyone—"
"Silence!" Bristle's reins were yanked in the healer's direction and he swerved his great body toward her. The slender woman lost her footing in an effort to avoid his sharp tusks.
"Being that you are only someone driven by hate, you may have mistaken my kindness for weakness. I could call down the starts to kill you, I swear it."
"Save your bluffing for someone who doesn't know what you've done. You don't scare me."
Soraka did not have to see Sejuani's eyes to know that all had not been forgiven. She had not expected it, truth be told, but it was nice to dream that her thankless job would be recognized in some way other than scorn.
Much to Bristle's dislike, his reins were wrenched in the opposite direction. He roared loud enough to shake loose snow off the sheer cliff faces and send a strong echo through the bowl-like valley they were passing through. A primordial shriek answered from all sides without an identifiable origin in sight. This was a sound those from Freljord knew well.
"AUGH!" Illaoi and her relic fell limb over stone into a snow bank, followed shortly by the determined face of Sejuani. "Get off m—"
"Shut up."
Over their combined breathing an unsettling sound arose: the rapid beating of wings. It sent fear down the back of Soraka and Sejuani, but Illaoi could not comprehend how this sound meant anything other than good news. The beating went on for a minute or two and the closer it got the more rigid Sejuani's body grew.
It wasn't until the sound had been gone for over a solid minute that Sejuani rolled off her companion and surveyed the scene. Deep tracks in the snow showed where Bristle had charged away in fear of the attacker finding him.
"What was—" Illaoi's question was rudely shut down.
"Shut up. She could be close."
"Who?"
"How dense are you people? Anivia."
Illaoi fought the impulse to put the bossy woman into another coma. It was so tempting to just knock her out with one slap— it wouldn't be hard— but they had somewhere to be. Instead of acting on her desire to hit someone, the priestess glanced around for any sign of Soraka. There! A snowbank shuddered and out stepped the healer.
"She's not looking for us."
"Of course she's not looking for you." Sejuani snapped. "You're not important. She's on her way to find that stupid bastard, so that means I need to get to Volibear before she comes back." She didn't wait for Illaoi or Soraka to follow as she waded through Bristle's tracks. She'd make it to the village tonight, even if the journey killed her… and it just might.
Olaf thought himself to be a rather jovial man. He often told stories of glory— all his— and bought drinks for all those who stuck around to hear the tales of heroism, but he couldn't understand why he had so few friends. In fact, he had two. Three if you counted the boar (which he did). Sejuani and Volibear were the only two people he considered to be his equals in war and it was always a pleasure to unite with them under the same banner. When the Noxians invaded, Olaf had taken great pleasure in cutting men and women down with the aide of Winter's Claw. With Volibear's contribution, the holy trinity was able to defeat their common foe.
It seemed that Freljord was in need of the three great powers again. Olaf found himself sitting in the shaman's long house with a tankard of ale resting untouched on the table. He didn't drink much, but today might be a good day to start again.
Volibear pushed through a screen of leather flaps with a somber expression. "Yes, it's hers." In one of his great paws was a bola made of True Ice. It looked out of place in his plate-sized fist, not because of its size, but because it was never seen without its owner. Volibear took a seat across Olaf and placed the heavy weapon next to the untouched alcohol. His black eyes flicked up to read the consternation on Olaf's face. "What of Sejuani? Surely she was nearby."
"No, but I didn't hang around. I knew something was changing in the winds and had to leave as soon as I could. I was hoping you could practice some of your magic stuff and see if she was alive." Olaf's understanding of Volibear's craft was tenuous at best. "I have a theory of who did it, but I want you to take a look first."
"I don't deal with the dead, Olaf. That was never the gift I was given, but that doesn't mean she's dead. How did you find her bola?"
"It was in the snow outside Winter's Claw… or what was left of it anyways. I know it wasn't Ashe; not her style. Lissandra was definitely behind it— there was black ice on the ground! That shit doesn't melt or go away, you know? It was like… there was that time! Remember? How could anyone forget." The bearded man spoke with his hands where words failed. He was about to launch into more evidence of the Ice Witch's involvement in the destruction of the settlement when a paw stopped him.
"Come."
Olaf followed closely with his axes at the ready. The shaman's house was set at the edge of the village, an arguably good spot to see anything approaching but poor in the way of attracting visitors. From here the two friends could see a beast charging towards them. Olaf tensed up, eager to let his nervous energy out on anything that did not declare itself an ally. His friend was less impulsive and equipped with a keener sense of vision.
"Don't! That's Bristle!"
And it was. The boar was frothing at the mouth and breathing hard, but definitely alive. Volibear and Olaf waited for him to approach while more curious villagers crowded around the entrance to the settlement. It was a rare sight to see Bristle without Sejuani— in fact it was unheard of! Every visit she paid was on the back of her trusted companion. How uncanny that the princess' bola and her boar would show up without their master.
Volibear did not believe in coincidences, neither did Olaf. Seven strong members of the community wrangled Bristle into the livestock pen where the cows and sheep ignored his frenzied behavior.
The great shaman looked to the skies where dark clouds hung low. It reminded him of the time he first came into his power. It was on the highest peak of his territory, though it had become a spot in which others tried to recreate the conditions that brought him his divine power. Now, the clouds did not drop lightning from their canopies, rather thick, blue-tinted flakes of snow. One landed on Volibear's snout and he swiped it away.
"This is Anivia's work." The bear declared.
"Gods! How did you know that? I don't see anything." Olaf had to admit, there was something about this storm that didn't sit well with him. He tried to stay out of the supernatural struggle Sejuani was tangled in and focus on the people that bled and died. He didn't care much for a bird he couldn't kill.
Rather than answer, Volibear went into his home and returned a few minutes later. In his paws he carried the bola like it were a newborn. Olaf was too heated to notice this.
"That must mean Sejuani's dead. That sneaky bitch is going to break like a twig! She won't unite my Freljord!" The axes in his hands spun over and over in a dizzying pattern. He'd gut the soft queen like a pig, no offense to Bristle, and feed her scraps to the eels. Yes! That's what he'd do!
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Huh?"
The axes dropped as his head was turned back to the dusky horizon. There was less than an hour of light left, but with the cloud coverage they'd be lucky to get even half of that.
"What am I looking for?"
"Sejuani."
"She's dead! You said so yourself!"
"No, you, said so. I can smell her."
"You're just smelling Bristle— "
A deep throated roar erupted from Volibear. It was rare for him to lose composure and even rarer for him to snap so violently at an ally.
"Serylda! I got it! No need for that." Olaf squinted in earnest this time. He wasn't sure if it was the intense gaze on his neck causing a hallucination or the desire to believe Sejuani was alive, but a very dim light seemed to be beaming from beyond the settlement. It wavered a few times and went out, only to be picked up a few paces to the right. "You see that, right?"
"Of course I do." Came the huffy reply.
"Well, I'm no lightning priest, but I guess we're seeing something… well, it's not a miracle. Freljord has many enemies, it could be anyone."
The light was moving slowly but surely toward the Ursine village. None of the other villagers seemed to notice in the confusion surrounding Bristle.
"You don't have to be a shaman to see miracles, Olaf."
"I guess I do, because that's not Sejuani."
While the light had been swaying, Olaf thought long and hard about the light so far away. It seemed familiar… but not in the good kind of way. Seeing the greenish hue tickled the back of his brain in a way he did not like. Also, an inner, more vulnerable part of him squirmed as well.
"What do you mean by that?" Volibear saw a grimace flash across his friend's face followed by a deep frown. "Who are you not saying, Olaf?"
"That's not Sejuani."
Olaf was plunged into a memory he had not dwelled upon in years. Thirteen years to be perfectly accurate. This memory was one that he did not count as a victory, rather a loss, and the woman at the heart of it was not one he thought of fondly. She had beaten the literal soul out of him and he had never forgotten her face. She was handsome, dark, and full of pride.
I am Illaoi, she had said. Be happy the Mother has accepted your tithe!
At the time Olaf had not known who the Mother was and after so many years, he still did not know. He didn't want to either. If this 'Mother' was anything like her 'daughter', then he'd travel the furthest away from Bilgewater as he possibly could. And that was how he had gotten to Freljord. He vowed to never meet the supernatural being who called that crazy woman to him.
Serylda, if you haven't passed on to Valhalla, turn her away. Olaf prayed to a spirit he did not believe in. To Volibear he said, "You better call the council; your life is about to get more complicated."
...
Olaf waited outside the large meeting hall. He wasn't a huge fan of long talks unless he was the one doing the talking. So, rather than listen to Volibear ramble about a supposed war, he juggled his time between throwing axes and checking the progress of Illaoi.
The ghostly light seemed to have stopped for a while and did not move. Olaf felt a kindling of spirituality growing in his heart, but he doubted Serylda had actually halted the priestess' advance. Few outsiders fared well against Freljord; that included the strongest of women.
When she gets close enough, I'll show her what I think of her mother! Had any sane person taken a look at Olaf at this exact moment, they may have concluded he was suffering from a seizure. His hands twitched, as did his facial whiskers, and he let out occasional barks of laughter. Luckily most Ursine had filtered into the hall to hear what Volibear had to say.
The meeting concluded with the chieftain assembling a search party to look for the missing princess. Volibear respected the elder-bear but wondered whether her decision to look for a body was founded on her extreme dislike of war. Still, now was not the time to question her openly. He'd wait until they were in private to hash out a more effective plan.
The spot Olaf had been occupying was empty when Volibear came upon it. The bear considered following his obvious trail or going to speak with the chief. Olaf was a capable man, albeit a bit of a loose canon, but he wouldn't do anything dumb. Volibear didn't waste anymore time thinking about it as he strode back into the hall.
By the time he had gotten an audience, the first search party had left.
They weren't far from the village that Sejuani collapsed. The elements, constant fear of being discovered by Anivia, and general fatigue swept her feet out from under her. Illaoi wasted no time in plucking her wasted body from the snow and carrying her in a hug-like manner to the outskirts of Volibear's territory. Sejuani's head rested in the crook of Illaoi's neck and shoulder where she found it easy to tuck her cold face into the priestess' furs. Every once and a while her breath would hitch and stutter like a broken record, but then it would start up again.
Illaoi worried what feeling their motley party would arouse in whoever owned this land. If Sejuani did in fact die in her arms, she and Soraka would have a hard time explaining what happened. Even now, neither outsider knew the true cause or details surrounding the attack on Winter's Claw. It would not be helpful for Soraka to mention she knew Ashe was plotting some kind of attack on her sister, though it were true.
Illaoi paused to collect her bearings. Bristle's tracks had led them right where they needed to go. It appeared they were at the base of a rise where the village could look down on approaching visitors. No doubt that's what they were doing now. Some movement could be tracked in the fading afternoon light.
Soraka stared listlessly at the white expanse; perhaps exhaustion was catching up with her too. Illaoi felt tired too, but she had not come this far to stop. No flying chicken could stop her from getting a proper night's sleep.
Illaoi's feet carried her up the gradual incline. Lights began to awaken on the hill the closer they got. Her relic added its glow to the choir of lights and Illaoi felt the power surge through her legs. She could make it these last few meters and then take off her boots and eat—
A cry broke Illaoi's concentration and she stumbled. Sejuani fell unceremoniously to the ground where she was joined a second later by Illaoi.
Four large bears, all white with black noses, had their paws on Soraka and were forcibly dragging her to the entrance of the village. A bear standing on two legs looked down at the pitiful woman. A crowd of curious bears adorned in various armor and robes gathered behind the leader and seemed to wait on her verdict. Beside her a man of short stature brandished two axes, ready to swing on command.
Suddenly Illaoi felt very exposed. She didn't have much regard for the underhanded healer, but she knew the key to getting home was hidden somewhere in this mess of war and politics. Perhaps it was tied to the fate of the unconscious woman in the snow. There was only one way to find out.
Illaoi got to her feet with much effort. The movement drew attention from Soraka's grating cries and soon the host of bears were focused only on the dark skinned woman.
"She's got Sejuani!"
The name spread like wildfire among the bears. Soon they were surging on either side of Illaoi and gently lifting her limp body from the snow. The majority of the crowd followed the procession while a few hung back to the determine the fate of the two foreigners. Of those who stayed behind, the most notable was the human man and a bear crackling with electricity. His fur stood on end and he bared his teeth at Soraka.
"You!" He snarled. It looked like he was about to take a bite out of her, but thought better of it.
The bear who seemed to hold the most authority finally spoke. Her voice was like that of a sweet summer's day, an odd sound for such a desolate land. "Soraka. Many years have passed yet that name does not fade. I know more about you than I do myself, which is to say much."
"Let's kill her!" The human spoke up. His voice was eager as were his axes. However, the leader did not share in his enthusiasm.
"No, Olaf. That's not how we Ursine work. The world of man is chaos, but ours is of order. Volibear, Korin, Naoke, Totel, and I will be the council that determines your fate." The last part was addressed to Soraka. The pale skinned starchild looked small next to the hulking bears. She no longer screamed, rather she seemed to be collecting herself, though the fear never left her eyes.
"You forgot me," Illaoi dusted the eye of God off and hoisted it onto her shoulder.
"I didn't forget you," The man named Olaf barked. Illaoi admitted he did have a rather familiar look about him. Still, she tested so many souls it was hard to keep track of them all.
"You will remain in the camp. What do they call you?"
"Illaoi."
"A strong name."
"And an even harder hit."
"Well met, Illaoi. I am Ursa, the leader of this clan. You have done my brothers and sisters no harm, but you are not from here and would not benefit from this trial. Go. Olaf, see to it that she has something to eat."
Olaf didn't feel terribly inclined to help the woman who had almost bested him. He stalked away not bothering to offer any help to the exhausted priestess. She'd have to find her own way, just like he had.
Illaoi didn't pay any mind to the retreating form of her 'guide'. She had come this far on faith and determination. She still had both intact and needed no one to tell her how to fend for herself. She found herself following the stream of Ursine to an infirmary where Sejuani was being treated by delicate paws. It was an odd sight to see animals taking care of a human, but Illaoi had seen stranger.
There was an unoccupied bed in the corner of the room. Illaoi settled into the nook and closed her eyes, not to sleep, but to meditate. It was time to commune with the one who called her. It was time to get some answers.
It was time to talk to god.
a/n: I'd like to take a moment to thank Chrosis for their continued support. Each comment makes me feel like a winner and I hope everyone has someone this kind and special in their life. This thank you also extends to anyone who has made it this far in Hell and High Water; you're all truly outrageous ;)
