Herleif made his way through the streets of Eitrivatnen, seeking something to lighten his bad mood after the way Gunnar had left the stables. His war gear and weapons had been cleaned and set aside, and now he sought either refreshment or distraction before he turned his attention towards making preparations for leaving the city. Unfortunately he couldn't shake the feeling that he would be leaving Eitrivatnen with more problems to contend with then when he arrived. The feud with Ivar the Red was weighing particularly heavy on him at the moment, and so he made up his mind to seek answers from the person who had helped set him on this path in the first place.
As he passed under a decorated archway that stretched over the street, he found Ragnar and Ragna sitting at a table together, shrouded under a canopy in front of a building that might have once been an inn before being burned and ransacked, though by the Divine Pyre or Vikings he couldn't be sure. What he could be sure of was that he was on the right path to finding Helge, as the twins were never far from the Shaman who's life was intertwined with theirs. Currently they were hunched over the table, elbows planted firmly upon the wooden surface as they tightly grasped hands with each other. The thews of their tanned arms bulged and strained as each struggled to overpower the other, their teeth bared and snarling like wolves, and eyes alight with primal fury. At first glance one would think that they were sworn enemies locked in a terrible battle rather then siblings having a simple contest of strength.
"Ragnar, Ragna. How fares the score?" Herleif said in greeting as he approached. Wild as the Berserker twins were, they were without a doubt two of his best warriors, and he did not wish to just pass them by without acknowledging their presence. "Does Ragna still boast the most victor-"
He was cut off by a sharp and frightening snarl from both Berserkers at once, their fiery eyes flashing angrily and teeth snapping at him as he got too close, like guard dogs barking at a stranger. The table shook as they bolted upright and took a threatening step towards their Jarl, even as they still clasped hands between them.
Herleif swiftly turned without breaking stride, giving no glance back as he moved on and waved at them over his shoulder. "Right then. My fault, should have known better to interrupt. As you were!" Once they were far enough behind him he let out a low groan of frustration from years of dealing with the wild pair, but he soon heard the thunk of a hand hitting wood, followed by Ragna's angry cursing and Ragnar's fiendish laughter. Both sounds were enough to make the hairs on the back of Herleif's neck stand on end as he walked away.
Now keeping up a quick pace, he found Helge not far ahead in an open square close to the villa that he had taken for his own. The space was wide and welcoming, with a large crystal clear pool in the center from which a high column of marble rose up towards the sky, its white surface etched with the winding pictures of Ashfeld's past victories. Herleif was surprised that they had enough to cover the entire column, it stood so tall, and partially wondered if one or three of the depictions he saw were simply made up to make the pitiful Knights feel better about themselves. As large as the space was there were few people around, only some of his Bilrost warriors milling about in groups under the shade of the buildings that surrounded the square. Perhaps it was the sight of Helge working her arm into the butchered body of a man that kept them at bay.
There was still color in the dead man's cheeks, telling Herleif that he had just been killed recently. His naked body was split from groin to neck, the rib cage hacked open and pulled apart in a bloody display, with long trails of guts strewn about like slop thrown out for the pigs. Helge crouched low over the man and was elbow deep into the his chest cavity with her knife, her red lips spread into a happy smile and bared teeth dripping with blood.
As if the sight of a small young woman butchering a person so serenely wasn't shocking enough, a second man lay helpless not far away and still very much alive. He was curled up on the ground, naked under the bright sun with a balled up cloth gagging his mouth, and his wrists bound behind his back. His legs and feet were free, but the tendons along the back of his heels had been slashed apart, leaving blood to pool between the cobblestones. The steady whimpering coming from the man's gagged lips was unsettling to say the least, the sound of a man who realized just how helpless he was before his death. Herleif gave him a pitying glance as he stopped a good distance away, but knew better then to come between a Shaman and her sacrificial lamb, as it were.
"Where did you find these?" he frowned, gesturing between the dead man and the living one to catch Helge's attention. Her round bright eyes flicked up to him with a look almost childlike in nature, until she spit something dark and gristly from her mouth to disappear among purplish red guts.
Helge gave an amused little chuckle, grinning widely at Herleif with a smile that should have been full of white teeth if it were not for all the blood coating her mouth. "I managed to snag them before they were put to the sword. Now they serve a greater purpose. The voices tell me such wonderful things when I spill their blood, Herleif. Such wonderful things. They tell me of the death of our enemies, and of wars and glories both long in the past and far into the future."
Herleif gave a little nod, scarcely able to imagine what terrible visions and haunting words Helge experienced while wallowing with strange voices in the blood of living sacrifices. "And do they have anything useful to tell you about our fight to come? Do they say if we shall have victory at the Walled City?"
The gory Shaman simply shrugged, and hardly seemed interested in the question as she looked over the the ruined body like a proud craftsman examining a half finished project. "The gods and voices are fickle in what tales they share. They tell of such glorious things only to heighten our hunger for battle and blood, while keeping our own fates to themselves till the day that they fall upon us like a hammer's blow. Keeping us in the dark makes it so much more fun for them to watch our miserable lives unfold," she said with a wink, touching a red finger to her lips as if to hush him.
"Is that so?" Herleif grumbled, no less enthused by her evident restraint. "Speaking of the gods and these voices, I wanted you to ask them some questions for me."
Helge instantly perked up, clapping her hands together and splattering blood over the bones adorning her neck. She spread her arms wide and gestured at the bound man before her. "Well then, how fortunate that I still have enough left to beseech those beyond the veil! Ask your questions then, Herleif. Go on, go on!"
Herleif squatted down before her, clasping his hands together as he pondered his words. "Back in Bilrost, when I came to you seeking council, the gods," he stopped when Helge shot him a withering evil look, and for a split second he questioned everything he knew about just who it was that he was seeking help from, then tried again, "...the voices, spoke of three enemies I would face upon this raid."
"Yes, yes, I remember Herleif. I was there after all," chuckled the Shaman as she toyed with a protruding rib from the corpse, pulling it back and letting it jerk back into place by the connecting muscle tissue.
Narrowing his eyes, Herleif was not entirely certain that was true, clearly remembering the frightening experience where Helge had become seemingly possessed by the voices her that plagued her mind. "Of course. The voices first spoke of an enemy dancing upon their own flaming pyre. I think it is obvious who that was, given our time here in Ashfeld so far."
Helge tilted her head back and stuck her tongue out between her teeth as she hummed with laughter. "Oh yes. The voices beyond like to believe that their words are deep and shrouded in mystery. They jabber on like village drunks that let fly their tongues, spouting riddles that sound like nonsense to those too eager for the answers to be revealed. Jabber, jabber, jabber..." Mimicking a speaking mouth with her hand, her fingertips and thumb made a sharp sticking sound each time they touched from all the blood.
"I shall take your word for it. My question is what of our other two foes? Have we yet to cross paths with them, or are they already here in our midst among the horde?" Herleif continued.
This gave the Shaman pause, and she stared back at him with an inquisitive look. "Careful Herleif. Trying to unveil a message from beyond before the appropriate time is a good way to seal one's doom. Many have met a terrible fate simply by seeking such things, when patience and good sense would have delivered them from such peril."
"This matter seems too perilous to leave it be, Helge."
Helge squinted at him. "Truly? But you were so cautious before. Even after you came to me I was not entirely sure that you would commit to this raid. As a matter of fact you did not, until you spoke with Erik face to face at the Hallowed Bastion. What has changed?"
"Now is not the time to be cautious." Herleif said quickly, feeling somewhat on guard against Helge's words. He had come seeking answers, not to be questioned on his motives or the decisions he had already made and could not change now. "The mood here is tense enough already, and I would rather know who my enemies are before I meet them."
Helge's eyes narrowed, then went wide with sudden realization. "Herleif, are you afraid?" she asked him, her shoulders slumping as if the notion disappointed her to the core. "You know that this is not something you can run from, Jarl. No man or woman can escape the fate set for them by the Norns. Are you telling me that you seek to reveal yours rather then meet it bravely in due time?"
Herleif's eyes flashed angrily, his hand snapping up as he pointed an accusing finger at Helge. "Do not give me that talk," he growled. "I have had enough of people questioning my commitment to this raid, to our traditions, and I will not hear of it coming from my own warriors." He stood up as his temper flared, beginning to pace about in annoyance. "Time and again I have led us without hesitation against our enemy upon the Cherith and across this accursed lake, and I have even fought side by side with men that I do not fully trust. What is it about my leadership that makes people question my ability to see this raid through to the end?"
Cocking her head to the side, Helge looked up at him as if the answer was clear. "Because you do not live to die like you are supposed to." Herleif snapped around to glare at her, but Helge simply gave him that knowing smile that said she could see right through him no matter how hard he tried to hide his concerns. "You are not a man who truly longs for the elation of Valhalla after death, not when you feel that have so much to live for. To some that is enough to find your conviction lacking, my friend. That you would seek peace when it is time to fight. That you would wish for the warmth of home rather than the fire of battle. You know that this is not our way."
Herleif gave her a long hard stare, his hands balling up into tight fists at his sides. There was no need for her to explain herself further, as the truth of her words hung heavy on his heart. "The path to Valhalla is one that has been laid before me since birth, and I walk it gladly. But I will not apologize for cherishing what joy I have in life while my heart still beats. Should a man feel shame for loving his family? For wanting to see his children grow and to become old at his wife's side rather then die on some distant battlefield far from home?"
"Who am I to say?" Helge shrugged, looking back down at the dead body before her. "In the end it doesn't matter what we want. We all live and we all die. The voices will clamor for blood all the same." For a moment she got a far away look in her eyes, as if a sudden thought forced its way to the forefront of her mind to tear at her heart. Her bloody fingers squeezed down on the pale flesh of the corpse, leaving red claw marks in their wake.
"Will you entreat the voices for answers to my question or not?" Herleif demanded, having no more desire to discuss the futility of fighting against fate.
Helge's looked up at him slowly, her eyes searching about before focusing on him and gave a tight lipped smile. "Of course I will, Herleif. Who am I to refuse my Jarl?" Slapping her hands on the corpse, she pushed herself up to her feet and strode over to the bound man that still lived, ignoring his muffled cries as she approached before grabbing him by his hair and dragged him closer to his dead companion. The man whimpered through his gag, thrashing about with his hands fastened tightly behind his back, but Helge simply put a knee down on his shoulder to keep him still as she drew her curved knife.
Herleif watched on without care, ignoring the man's fear as he asked his questions. "I want to know if Ivar the Red or the Peacekeeper, Priscilla Arentii, have anything to do with the vision you saw before. If they are the knife at my back, or the enemy marching unseen, then I would know of it now before they have the chance to strike."
"You suspect Ivar of treachery even after he took a blood oath with you?" Helge asked, taking her sacrifice by the neck and holding him down.
Herleif crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "Ivar has always looked to our lands with a jealous eye, wishing to increase his hold along the coast. Our families have rarely ever seen eye to eye through the years, and I do not expect one night of ceremony to wipe everything clean." There was history between Ivar's family and his. Old feuds and bad blood that always seemed to find new meaning from one generation to the next. Always there seemed to be duels and skirmishes fought over the border between their holds, or over honor and so-called insults that could never be forgiven for one reason or another. It was more then enough to give Herleif pause despite the oath he and Ivar had taken under Erik's order.
Yet even as Herleif explained his position there was a tightness in his chest, a dark feeling of shame that he might question an oath made before the gods. This was dangerous ground he was treading on by asking these questions, and from the sour look Helge gave him she knew it as well.
"And what of the Peacekeeper?" asked the Shaman, "Where does she fit into this speculation?"
"Call it a hunch. A woman of her order might be more then she seems," Herleif said gruffly. "Gunnar is keeping an eye on her for now, but it would not hurt to have an edge on her if need be."
Helge held her inquisitive gaze on him for a moment longer, then suddenly broke out into a wide smile as she touched the tip of her curved knife to the captive's belly. "Well then, if that is all you want why waste anymore time?" The helpless man let out a muffled shriek through his gag as the sharp metal pressed against his skin, bringing Helge's attention snapping back to him. Together they locked eyes, his wide and watery with unadulterated fear, hers bright with absolute delight and excitement. "Hush now, little lamb," she whispered to him, running her red hand along his cheek as if to give comfort. "Your pitiful struggle is over, and in the end I have given your wasted life meaning." Leaning down to him, Helge gently pressed her bloody lips to the man's forehead, giving a parting kiss before whispering in his ear. "Hear the voices with me now. Hear how they cry out and clamor for this. Be at peace, and we will slake their lust, together."
The knife plunged deep into the man's stomach, and began to cut from naval to neck.
Herleif watched on in grim silence as dark blood flowed from the wound around the knife hilt and Helge's hand, dripping over pale flesh like red rivers cutting through snow. He listened as the man gave a pained gasp through his gag, eyes going wide before snapping shut as the pain shot through him. His naked body twitched and spasmed with each harsh cut Helge made to slice his flesh and muscle open, her cuts growing more aggressive with excitement until the blade met the bones of his rib cage. It was then that the gleeful Shaman withdrew the blade, dripping with the man's life blood, and let it drop clattering on the stones, only to then plunge her hand into the gaping hole she had made in his ruined body.
Over the course of his life Herleif had heard the death cries of many warriors as they suffered on the battlefield from terrible wounds, but the guttural retch of pain that came from the man was something that he knew would stay with him until the day he joined his ancestors in the golden hall.
Helge forced her arm further and further inside, until she was elbow deep in the captive's body, laughing to herself as purplish guts slid up around her arm as she displaced them from within his belly. The man went rigid from the pain, every sinewy muscle and vein showing tense beneath his skin. Strangely it was nothing Herleif hadn't seen before. A live sacrifice was always used when entreating the gods, but this way seemed especially cruel rather then just parting a person's head from their shoulders with an axe, or slitting their throat to water the ground with blood. Herleif had no mind for watching people suffer needlessly, but if this was the way of gaining answers to his questions then he would not stand in Helge's way.
With a sudden and brutal shove of her arm, the dying man stiffened and gave a gurgled cry, his eyes shooting open and bulging wide at the sky above. Then they slowly rolled upward, showing only white cut with red veins, and his body began to twitch uncontrollably as blood bubbled from his lips around the gag. Helge sneered at him, her gaze pitiless and stern as her arm worked at something inside his chest. Then she let out a triumphant cry as her arm slid free with a gush of blood, her skin colored dark red from her fingers to bicep. Lifting her hand high above her head, a dark pulsing mass was clutched tightly in her grasp, dripping over her and the sacrifice both like cursed rain.
The man who had once been a brave Knight, however misguided and cruel, went limp upon the ground, barely even having enough air within his lungs to give out a last choking breath as he died. Helge shot up to her feet, staring at the still beating heart in her grasp as if it was worth more to her then all the treasures of Heathmoor. "Behold!" she cried out joyfully, her voice echoing in the bright square. "By this sacrifice the voices shall be heard!"
Herleif spared one last glance to the butchered man on the ground, but he was still and quiet now, nothing but a dead sack of meat like so many others. The part he had played in this ceremony was over, and his soul was of no more consequence to those of this realm. He looked back at Helge just as she was withdrawing some white powder from a pouch that hung at her belt. What it was he had no idea, but she covered the heart in it liberally. Then from another pouch she withdrew a dried mushroom, pale in color, and proceeded to pop it right into her mouth to chew. She did not swallow, seemingly keeping the chewed contents in her mouth before bringing the heart to her lips and baring her teeth like a ravenous beast to bite into it. Ripping off a chunk of the tough muscle, she chewed openly and swallowed before going back for more.
Not wanting to interrupt Helge while her mouth was full, Herleif watched on silently and wondered how long it would take before she was communing with the voices beyond the veil. He didn't have to wait long to find out.
On the third bite of the heart Helge froze, her entire body going rigid as whatever seiðr she had conjured began to take hold. Suddenly she gave a gasping retch around the heart in her mouth, her body convulsing like she would be sick. The heart dropped from her hands and fell to the ground with a wet splat, and she dropped to her knees while clutching at her stomach as if in pain. Her breathing was coming on in deep, panting grunts, and Herleif was stunned to wonder if something had gone horribly wrong. "Helge?" he muttered, taking a step towards her to intervene, though truthfully he had no idea as to how. She gave him no answer, except for another terrible retch that saw pink froth sputter from her mouth before she went limp and rolled over onto her back.
Herleif stared on, blinking stupidly as he watched Helge begin to spasm and twitch, her eyes rolling up into her skull beneath fluttering lashes. It was like watching the butchery all over again, as if the dead man was taking his revenge upon his killer from beyond the grave. Helge's body was trapped in an endless attack of violent spasms, her back arching and limbs contorting in horrible ways. The shaved sides of her head scraped upon the cobblestones of the street as she thrashed about, leaving red scars among the little dark hairs of her scalp, and more pink froth bubble from her lips.
Was this supposed to happen? Herleif had no idea. He had never seen a ritual go like this before. Helge's ways were unpredictable at best, but more and more she seemed to give her council through new and terrifying means. Finally he could stand by no longer, and rushed to Helge's side. Kneeling helpless beside her, he wasn't even sure what could be done as she choked and sputtered an all the foam bubbling in her throat. "Dammit all! Helge! Helge, wake up!" Feeling at a total loss, he opted to pick her head up off of the hard ground and cradle her in his arms. It was out of sheer desperation that he quickly began to slap her cheek next, willing her to wake up and be free of this torment. "Thor's ass, what dark seiðr is this? Help! Somebody get help!"
A few of the warriors gathered around the edge of the square came forward, but none looked too eager to get roped into whatever foul thing the Shaman had brought upon herself. Herleif would have none of that though, waving his arm at them to act. "Go! Get a healer! Anyone who could help!" The warriors stared and gaped at him, their attention caught more by the horrifying sight of the butchered sacrifice and the writhing woman then his command, so Herleif let his anger and frustration fly free to get them moving. "Just go, damn you! Or I will throw you into the lake myself with rocks in your boots!"
The warriors ran off without a glance back, but even as they moved out of the square Herleif could still hear the sound of boots running over stone. He didn't even have time to look before he was hit by a solid weight from the side, giving a cry as he was knocked away from Helge and tossed onto his back. It was only when the world stopped spinning around him that he saw the Berserker twins taking his place as they knelt at Helge's side. How their terrible talents might help in this situation, he had no idea.
"What did you do to her!?" snarled Ragna angrily, her face contorted into a visage of rage and fear. She picked Helge up into her arms, cradling her protectively as she tried to shake her awake with Ragnar looking on helplessly over her shoulder. "Helge! Wake up!" Ragna pleaded desperately, her voice cracking uncharacteristically with fear, "No... you do not belong to them Helge! They do not get to take you yet!"
Ragnar's gaze snapped over to Herleif, all trace of respect and admiration for his Jarl gone as he growled. "What happened? What seiðr did you have her conjure?"
Herleif stared back angrily as he got up to his knees, not liking the accusing tone in Ragnar's voice, but now was not the time to reprimand him. "She did this herself! She ate the man's heart, covered in some powder. I have no idea what it was, but she went about it without fear."
"Stupid woman!" Ragna seethed, but the look in her eyes held nothing but worry. Helge was going still in her arms now, her hands frozen in a contorted grasp as if clawing at something unseen. One eye still twitched while the other was half closed, and the frothing had slowed to leave her chin and neck coated in a sticky wet sheen of watery blood. Ragna snarled again, then looked to Herleif in a complete loss of what to do. "She is too wild, too stupid to know her limits. She will have killed herself for this!" she wailed.
For a moment Herleif had hoped that everything would turn out alright, that somehow Helge was still in control of whatever torment assailed her body and mind. Seeing the fear in Ragnar and Ragna now though made his heart go cold. If there was anyone who knew the depths and intricacies of Helge's strange work it was them, and to see them so lost now put him into action again. "Get her to the water," he ordered, quickly moving to grab one arm and drag Helge to the pool next to them. For all their fear the Berserkers were quick to move with him, picking Helge up and bringing her to the edge of the water. A gnawing fear gripped at Herleif on whether or not this would help, but to do nothing would only yield one result. "Set her down. Gently..." Helge was going pale now, more so then usual as Herleif cleaned her of blood and splashed water onto her face. The crystal clear pool became murky with red clouds as he splashed her again and again, trying desperately to wake her as the twins watched on.
"Its not enough. We need to try harder!" Ragnar snapped suddenly, shoving Herleif aside and taking Helge by her collar. He hauled her limp body forward, only to dunk her head completely beneath the water and thrash her about.
Ragna gave a harsh cry and grasped her brother by the back of his armor, forcing him to pull Helge up and splashing them all in the process. "You idiot! How is that going to do anything but drown her?"
Dropping Helge on the pools edge, Ragnar sprung up and shoved Ragna off only to get right up in her face as he snarled. "We have to try something! We can't just let her die!"
"And you think this will help?" Ragna snapped, shoving him back.
"Ragna..." Herleif muttered, looking down at Helge's still form.
"At least I am doing something! You always freeze whenever she crosses into the beyond!" Ragnar bit back. "It's always up to me to bring her back whenever she is too far gone!"
Herleif held his hand over Helge's parted lips, feeling nothing. "Ragnar..."
Ragna shoved her brother again, getting in his face this time. "When are you going to learn that what she does is beyond us? Her power comes from more then just the gods! Every time she goes, it is by her will alone that she comes back. All we can do is call out and hope that she hears us!"
"You worthless weakling! You claim that you know her heart best, but it is you who would just abandon her to the voices!" Ragnar yelled.
Herleif closed his eyes, sighing deeply as disrepair flooded through him. Taking the knife that Helge had dropped, he put it into her hand and closed her fingers around it the best he could. "Quiet," he said softly as the Berserkers argued, feeling his anger begin rise.
"How dare you!" Ragna screeched, cracking her clenched fist against her brother's cheek to send him reeling. "What do you know of our love? You are nothing but a prick for her to enjoy when the mood fancies her!"
Ragnar sprang back, working his aching jaw before lunging at his sister, hands reaching for her throat. "Fuck you! I mean as much to her as you do, you're just too jealous to admit it!" The two Berserkers threw themselves at each other then, hands grabbing at throats and hair in a struggle to bring the other down.
"Enough!" Herleif roared, his temper erupting as he sprang up and rounded on the two squabbling siblings. They both froze at the command in his voice, falling back into line as warriors heeding their Jarl. But as quickly as Herleif's temper flared, so too did it fade away, turning his head back down towards Helge. "She is gone," he whispered, shoulders sagging as he frowned down at the still body. "She is gone."
Ragnar blinked slowly at Herleif as he tried to process what he had been told, while Ragna gazed down upon her lover with anger slowly giving way to despair over her face. "No..." she whispered, her voice sounding the most meek that Herleif had ever heard.
"I am sorry," Herleif said, knowing that the sadness he felt was nothing compared to what Ragnar and Ragna knew in that moment.
"No," Ragnar frowned, almost denying what was clearly in front of him. "She always comes back. Ragna, tell him. Tell him how she always comes back from the voices."
Ragna ignored him, pulling herself away from his limp grasp and falling to her knees beside Helge's body. "No!" she wailed, her hands hovering just above Helge as if afraid to touch her and feel the warmth fade away, "No, no, no! You can't go! You can't leave us!" she cried.
A wave of regret and grim responsibility hit Herleif like an avalanche. The idea that this was all his fault clawed at his mind, causing his heart to ache at the misfortune he had caused all for selfish gain. "I am sorry," he gasped again, blinking quickly to try and hide the hot sting of tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "She... she worked so quickly. I had no idea what she was doing. I never thought such seiðr would lead to this."
If he had thought that this confession would turn two of his most loyal warriors against him, he found that neither of them reacted to his words at all. If anything they acted as if he wasn't even there. Unable to look upon Helge's body any longer, Ragna stood up and turned to throw herself into her brother's arms. Where a moment ago they had been quarreling like wild beasts, now they embraced each other as one heart who had lost another. Ragna buried her face into the crook of her brother's neck, refusing to look behind her again while Ragnar could not tear his eyes away from still body of their lover.
Herleif felt completely useless, more of a burden to the twins for the grief he had caused. "My friends," he began hesitantly. "You should not be here. I will see that-"
"Have you not done enough already!?" Ragna snapped, her anger turning viciously on her Jarl. She still clung to Ragnar desperately, but from the way she shook it was almost as if her brother was holding her back from lashing out in anger.
Herleif frowned, his brow crestfallen and unable to look at either of them. "I only meant to..."
"To what? Have her speak with voices that wish for nothing but blood and death?" Ragna cried out. "You know nothing of this madness, Herleif. You know nothing of what it means to be touched by the power of the gods!"
"What is that supposed to mean? Herleif growled, his tone swiftly turning dark, "Are you saying that I do not hold the gods favor?"
Ragna pulled herself from Ragnar's arms, taking a step towards Herleif and glaring up at him. "I am saying that you do not know what it means to be Odin blessed, to feel the power of the gods coursing through your veins. You are just a man, stumbling your way to the fate awaiting you and hoping you live a life worth remembering along the way." Her eyes narrowed angrily at him, her voice dropping to a threatening whisper. "You worry and you hesitate. Look what happens when you try to reveal more then what the gods are willing to show. See how they repay such foolishness? If only you had been brave, Warlord. What violent victory we might have wrought against our enemy with Helge still by our side."
Herleif glowered back at Ragna. A part of him wished to put her in her place, to refute her claim and even challenge her with steel if she pressed the issue. In a way her remarks cut directly to the fear of what was being said about his commitment to the raid, but he was her Jarl, and no matter how hurt she was he would still command her respect. Death was a part of any warriors life, and he would not allow any person's grief to dispute his right to rule.
Of course that did not mean that her words stung him any less.
"Maybe... maybe she's just speaking with them now," Ragnar interjected before Herleif could speak, trying to makes some sense of the terrible situation. His gaze was still fixed on Helge, completely oblivious to the animosity brewing beside him. "You know, speaking with the voices. She might still come back... couldn't she?"
Ragna let out a groan of disgust as she turned back to her brother, finding the very idea of hope revolting at the moment. "Don't be stupid, you shit-brained mongrel. There is no coming back from where she has gone."
"How do you know?" Ragnar shot back, licking his lips and fidgeting as he clung to this one idea that this might not be the end. "You said it yourself, her power is beyond any of us! What if she is on her way back to us even now?"
"Ragnar, it is too late," Herleif sighed. "She is gone."
Ragnar shook his head, a shaky and fearful smile curling at the corners of his lips. "No... I don't believe it. She will be back. You just wait and see. Any moment now she'll be right back with great and terrible visions from the beyond. You'll see."
Ragna threw herself at her twin, gripping him by his armor and pulling him in close as she bared her teeth. "Listen to me Ragnar. She is gone. Dead. The voices have claimed her now, taken all that she is. Get this through your thick skull, you fool." Wringing her hands against him, she took a deep breath as if it pained her to admit what she didn't want to face. "She is gone, brother, and she is never coming back!"
Helge's body twitched abruptly as she arched up from the stones and sprang to life. Her eyes snapped open as dark blood bubbled from between her lips and she rolled over to loudly vomit into the pool. The deathly pale Shaman sucked in a shuddering breath, only to gag and regurgitate more bile to darken the waters of the fountain, leaving her red faced and panting as she clung to the pool's edge.
Ragna immediately let out a shriek of shock, horror and elation before falling to Helge's side. "Helge! My love! Are you alright?" she clamored, pawing at Helge's heaving shoulders and red face to get a glimpse at her. "Speak to me. My love, tell me you are alright..." Helge did not answer right away, instead vomiting more chunks of heart into the pool before she was finally able to turn to Ragna and give her a trembling, blood dripping smile. That was enough for Ragna, who let out a gleeful laugh before pulling Helge to her and peppering her messy face with frenzied kisses.
Herleif and Ragnar both gave great sighs of relief, with Ragnar covering his face and running his hands down against his cheeks as he felt all the pain of loss rushing out of him. "Odin be praised! I knew this wasn't the end! I told you. You didn't want to listen, but I told you she would be back!"
"And we will think better of your council forever more. Thank the gods," Herleif laughed with utter relief, likewise running a hand over his head in stunned amazement. Seeing Ragna smother the dazed Shaman with affection, and in the process getting her own face covered in a mess of blood, he reached down and gently touched the woman's shoulder to bring her away. "Give her some space. Let her breathe."
Ragna seemed hesitant to part with Helge, but for now at least she was too happy and relieved to fight back, and so let her sit on her own by the pool. Helge blinked slowly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as if getting adjusted to the bright light of the afternoon sun again. Then she lifted her hand and looked at the dagger clutched in her fist, giving a hoarse laugh before glancing around at all of them. "Did you all think that I would not be coming back?" she mused.
"I told them, Helge! I told them that you would be back!" Ragnar laughed, punching his fist in the air like they had all won some great victory.
Helge sucked in a lung full of air and held it for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the breath out slowly to relish the feeling. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was far away, as if she was somehow still held in whatever realm she had traveled to while she no longer breathed. "Now is not the time for us to part ways, my darlings. There is much more blood letting to be done before then."
That remark seemed to take the wind out of Ragna's sails, the smile falling from her lips as she leaned closer to Helge. "What did you see, Helge?" she whispered, almost too afraid to be heard. "What secrets did the voices reveal to you?"
"I saw many things, and was told much," Helge said slyly, looking to Ragna. "Of death and sacrifice, of high walls brought low and a fire at the heart of Heathmoor that will never be quenched. Dark is the path that lays before us, and I fear that we will not have the strength to face it." Setting down her knife, she gently reached out and took Ragna's hand in hers, squeezing it affectionately. "But of the questions asked by our Jarl," her eyes turned up towards Herleif, a hard frown fixed upon her face, "I saw nothing."
Herleif's face fell to reflect the Shaman's, and he felt the eyes of the twins upon him as well as he pondered her meaning. "Nothing? How is that possible? You told me there were two more enemies to face upon the volcano."
Slowly Helge's frown turned into a pitying smile, her head cocking to the side ever so slightly like a mother finding amusement in her child's ignorance. "And you asked if either was your rival Jarl or the Peacekeeper who was once our enemy. For you I sought the answers, and I tell you, of them I saw nothing." Her amusement grew the longer she took in Herleif's confused look, a bit of bloody spittle blowing from her lips as she laughed.
Herleif scowled, the relief he felt at Helge's well being once again giving way to annoyance. "So... They are not the ones, and our enemies still lurk somewhere unknown?"
Helge slowly nodded. "I told you, Herleif. The voices enjoy watching you fulfill your fate all on your own. You should have thought better on your questions before asking. As it stands," she gave a deep groan from her belly as she sat up and arched her back, "I will not be entreating them on your behalf again anytime soon."
Herleif's face grew hot with frustration and anger, and he was about to openly chastise Helge for scaring him so soundly with her Loki's trick only to come back with nothing to tell, but before he could the group of warriors he had sent to find help returned with one of the healers of his clan. "What terrible timing," he called to them as they all stood and gawked at Helge who had been in the death throes when they had left. "I will hope that if I should ever need a healer upon a day, they will be as close as my own shadow so that I might have a chance to live." The warriors all shuffled awkwardly in embarrassment at being admonished by their Jarl.
Helge smacked her lips together, sticking out her tongue for the bad taste of bile lingering in her mouth. She was about to get up when a glance over Ragna's shoulder caught her attention on the dead man who's heart she had sacrificed. Pushing herself up onto her feet with Ragna's help, she frowned down at the bloody body and sneered. "Useless cur," she growled, voice dripping with spite. Then working her jaw, she spat a thick glob of phlegm and blood to splatter across the dead man's face. Helge gave a grunt of disgust, and squinted up at the sun in annoyance. "What a waste of a perfectly good sacrifice."
Wrapping herself around Ragna's arm, Helge clung to her for support as she moved to take her leave of the corpses and bloody square. Herleif noticed her leaving and stepped up to stop her. "So that's it then? We are no closer to knowing who is a threat to us then before?"
Helge simply shrugged, but reached up to stroke Herleif's beard with her bloody hand, snickering as he recoiled. "The voices have spoken, and as it turns out they have nothing to tell. But, I do have one little glimpse of fate that I may depart upon you, if you wish to know." Her smile was more pleasant now, teasing even if it hadn't been for all the blood. Beckoning him closer, she shrugged Ragna away before leaning up to whisper into his ear. "What hope is to be found when brother turns on brother? What victory can be had when gold is not the prize? The mountain of rust will not be defeated, but if we are to see home again we must fight to defend that which we have come to conquer."
Herleif listened intently, trying to workout the meaning of Helge's words on his own. Even as he listened though his frustration only grew. What was the point in knowing one's fate when the answers only ever came in the form of strange riddles? He already regretted trying to unfold the mysteries of the first vision, he would not waste time trying to make sense of the second.
"Thank you Helge, but I think for now I will simply keep my sword close and my shield at the ready. You have taught me a valuable lesson today in seeking too much from the gods."
Helge's brows jumped as she smiled, and having no more to tell, took Ragna's arm again. "Do what you will, Jarl. I for one will be jumping into the lake for a refreshing bath, and bringing these two with me for a little celebration of life." Grinning wickedly, she ran her hand up Ragna's arm to her strong shoulder, the two of them making a bloody mess of each other as they pressed together.
Herleif shook his head, and gestured for them to be away. After everything that had happened he was in no mood to suffer further through their lovers antics. Helge and Ragna slipped passed him giggling to each other, leaving Ragnar to approach and clap both hands down on his shoulders. "Lets not do this again, shall we?" he said, giving Herleif a pointed look. Herleif pressed his lips tight together and sighed, not one to appreciate being dictated to by his warriors. But he nodded his head and patted Ragnar's shoulder in kind, inclined to agree with the wild man on the matter.
The longer he could go without experiencing one of Helge's terrible fits again, the better.
With the day nearly wasted and only a hot temper to show for it, Herleif stalked through the streets of Eitrivatnen in search of a quiet spot where he could be alone with his thoughts. He could return to the villa, but then he would feel too inclined to work on the preparations for leaving the harbor, and he was not in a mood to run into Gunnar again if he had returned after pestering the Lion Flame Knights. He wanted somewhere he could sit and pray to Odin on his own terms, without the frustration of dealing with a Shaman's cryptic words.
A cool horn of ale would not go amiss either, but for now every open tavern or watering hole he found was filled with warriors from all three clans still reveling in their recent victory. More than a few times warriors called out for him to join in a drink and a saga telling, but he politely declined and kept walking. He felt aimless, but for now at least that was not so much a concern as long as he remained alone.
It was only when he had walked closer to the lake that he noticed groups of golden Sea-Eagle warriors marching through the streets in tight groups, spears and shields in hand. To his knowledge the city was well and firmly secured of any threat after the incident outside the church, and any of the citizens that remained in Eitrivatnen were under constant guard by Erik's men near the citadel. He paused for a moment to watch as a group of Sea-Eagle warriors kicked in the door of a warehouse and stormed inside, all ten men moving with quick purpose. Through the few windows in the building's facade he could see them moving throughout the building, and even hear them as they tore through furniture and broke open more doors. It was clear to him that they were searching for something, but for what he did not know.
This realization did not sit well with him, having not known that Erik was searching for anything other then treasure and hostages within the walls of Eitrivatnen, and he already had plenty of both now. It seemed that the Golden Jarl was keeping even more from him, which only added to his anger and annoyance. It frustrated him to no end to think that his dedication to the traditions of their people were called into question by his hesitation to join in with these selfish Jarls, but with each passing day he was presented with new reasons to feel justified in his caution.
Rounding a new corner in search of some sense of solace that continued to escape him, he nearly ran head-long into Skuld as she made her own way down the street. She dodged out of the way just before he could barrel over her, but rather then take offense to his lack of awareness she simply bowed her head in greeting before moving on.
Herleif merely gave a half-hearted wave as she went by, barley recognizing her golden helmet and white garb until she was out of his sight. "Hold a moment, Valkyrie," he called out as he spun around to stop her, but to his surprise Skuld was standing directly behind him as if she had been expecting him to stop her all along. Herleif was struck dumb as he met those vibrant blue eyes staring back at him, the rest of her face completely hidden beneath her helmet, until he found his voice again. "Right. Is it done?" he asked her, his face falling into a dark scowl. Something in the back of his mind told him that this would be yet another question that would not see his mood improved that day. "Does my wife's father drink in the halls of Valhalla with the rest of his kin?"
Skuld's eyes glanced down to the seax hanging from her belt, taking the grip and pulling the blade free of it's scabbard. Once again the metal gleamed clean and bright, having yet gone without the taste of blood to see Ander Ottarson delivered into the halls of the gods.
The disappointment was too much for Herleif to handle then, and his hands curled into tight fists as he struggled to contain his anger. "Why?" he snapped rudely, smacking one clenched fist into his open palm in frustration. "Why is it not done? The fighting we saw on the river was fierce enough, but now we have gone through a battle that saw a city brought to it's knees, and you tell me that no one was worthy enough to earn Ander his rightful place in the next life. Granted, I realize these Pyre Knights are corrupt and vile creatures, but surely there was someone that gave a fight honorable enough for you to claim as sacrifice? Why would you accept this duty if you are just going to waste time?"
Without hesitation Skuld pulled the seax free from her belt and shoved it against Herleif's chest, locking him with a stormy gaze and daring him to take the blade from her. There was no meekness in her strong stance, no bargaining or excuses given. Her meaning was crystal clear.
Herleif snapped his jaw shut, knowing right then that if he pressed the issue further she would abandon Ander all together, and perhaps even the fight she had traveled with him to take part in. "My apologies, noble Valkyrie," he said softly, lowering his gaze in shame. "I did not mean to let my anger get the better of me. It has been a long day already, and I am weary of that which is not within my control. There seems to be too much of that going on for any one Jarl to endure."
Skuld held her stare unblinking for a moment longer, taking in the sorry state of the man before her in complete silence. Then just as quickly as she had offered up the seax, she slid it back into her belt at her side. Her body relaxed, the threat of retribution for his disrespect evaporating between them. Herleif let out a strained sigh and met Skuld's silence with a simple nod in thanks. Then to his amazement, the stoic Valkyrie placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, and uttered the three most wonderful words a woman had said to him since this raid began.
"Need a drink?"