The wheel of the year turned. Wulfric plowed the fields all through the spring and tended to them through the summer. His muscles grew stronger, and Halvard's grasp of the Kalosian language grew with each passing day. To practice, the two men would converse late into the evening, switching between languages as Halvard dictated. Ragnhildr and Torvald begrudgingly accepted Wulfric into the daily routine of their home, though many of the other northmen, Skaldi the most vocal among them, still treated Wulfric with wary distrust. The northern priest's disgust with Wulfric's southern religion was writ plain on his face, and he never passed up an opportunity to spit on Wulfric as he walked by.
At least once with every turn of the moon, Torvald would take Jarn and vanish for over a week. Sometimes he took other men with him, but more often than not, he left alone. No one in the village spoke of this. The one time Wulfric judged Halvard inebriated enough to address the question, Halvard had simply waved him off, saying Torvald was doing his part for Rovngalad before quizzing Wulfric on Kalosian military strategy, something Halvard had a keen interest in but that Wulfric only had a passing knowledge of.
When the time came to bring the harvest in, the village hummed with a frantic energy. Wulfric labored alongside Halvard's family in their fields from first light until sunset to reap all that they had sown and store it in the large stone granaries and barns on a raised mound in the village center. Once their own field was clear, they immediately set to work helping other families who did not have as many hands.
After one of their nightly language lessons, Wulfric asked Halvard what the rush was. "I know you've said the winter comes earlier here in the north, but surely it will be weeks yet before we lose the harvest to frost."
The northman shook his head. "It's not the winter or the Blue Spirit we're afraid of. It's the Storm Bringer."
"Zapdos?"
Halvard nodded. "Aye, that's your name for him. For years now, the Storm Bringer roosted in the Sea Spirit's Den, not far from where we took you. You know this?" When Wulfric said that he did, Halvard pressed his lips together. "We aren't sure why, but he seems content to leave the south alone. It's just us that he terrorizes. We've made offerings and sacrifices, said all the prayers we know, performed every rite that's been handed down, but nothing seems to work. In late fall, the Storm Bringer rampages up and down the coast. If we don't harvest the crops in time, the storm ruins them."
Several days later, the sky darkened and thunder rumbled in the distance. The people of Rovngalad hastened to bring their Mareep herds into the stone barns, where they would be hidden and could not start any fires in the village in their panic. Halvard and his family huddled around their hearth. Torvald calmly slid his knife across a long spar of wood, carving intricate designs into the handle. Skerast drifted around his head, and Branna preened on a carved perch nearby. Sigrund, Ragnhildr's Noivern, took up much of the rear of the longhouse, fidgeting and wincing with each clap of thunder. Halvard picked burrs out of Steinarr's mane, but Wulfric could see him cringing each time lightning split the sky. For his part, the monk curled up in his assigned corner and held Dismas close to his chest, listening to the howling wind and lashing rain rage just outside the longhouse.
A heavy pounding came at the solid oak doors of the hall. Torvald rose and opened them, and Skaldi staggered into the hall, his Ampharos in tow. The northern priest pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. "Halvard, I am going to make an offering to the god." Halvard looked up and titled his head to the side, saying nothing. Skaldi narrowed his eyes. "I have Tyri to protect me from the lightning, and it can't do anything but help! Perhaps the Storm Bringer will leave us in peace this year."
"What will you be offering?" Ragnhildr asked.
"Two Mareep," Skaldi replied. "Ivarr and Ulfi have offered one each. But perhaps the god requires a greater sacrifice." He glanced over at Wulfric and smiled.
Halvard rose. "We are not killing my thrall, especially in an empty gesture like this. Kill the sheep if you think it will do us any good, but leave Wulfric out of it."
Skaldi muttered something under his breath before turning on his heel and stalking out of the longhouse. The priest took the two Mareep out to a hill some distance from the village, squinting against the rain. The Mareep began to panic as they got further from the village, and no amount of bleating from Tyri could calm them. Once Skaldi judged they had moved far enough away, he drew out his knife and quickly butchered the two sheep. He sang out a prayer to the Storm Bringer, praising his great might and beseeching the god to show mercy on the village. The blood of the two Mareep seeped into the muddy earth as Skaldi and his Ampharos returned to their hut in Rovngalad.
Later that night, as the heart of the storm drew closer, the cacophony of the thunder grew deafening. In between flashes of lightning, a sound like metal grating against stone split the air, drowning out even the thunderclaps. The villagers huddled closer to their fires, and none dared to look outside. When the storm moved away the next morning, the Mareep carcasses were gone, and a large swathe of the nearby forest was levelled, many of the trees scorched by lightning, and deep gouges carved into the earth.
Skaldi proclaimed that the sacrifice had spared the village a similar fate.
Several days after the storm, just as the villagers were beginning to clear the last of the debris left in Zapdos's wake, Halvard woke Wulfric with a grin. "We'll be doing something a little different today. Come with me to the docks." Outside, Torvald was checking over a collection of spears, murmuring something to Svein. Ragnhildr stood off to the side with her arms folded. When she saw Halvard emerge, she strode over to him.
"I still say he is too young for this."
"Torvald and I went on our first hunts when we were younger than Svein is! It's past time!" Halvard clapped a hand down on Wulfric's back. "Besides, we need every hand we can get. I'm even bringing Wulfric along!"
Ragnhildr's nostrils flared. "If anything happens to my son, Halvard, I will send you to the Bringer of Death with your entrails in your hands." She turned on her heel and stalked off to the longships riding at anchor.
Wulfric tugged on Halvard's sleeve. "Hunt? What are we hunting?"
The northman took a spear from the rack and hefted it in one hand, checking the balance. "Wailmer! They migrate past Rovngalad every year. We hunt a few to use their meat and oil to help us get through the winter, and we need everyone who can pull an oar to help. Come."
He led Wulfric down to the dock where three of the longships were prepared to sail. Svein and Torvald followed behind them, and Halvard directed Wulfric to his place. Ulfi, one of the warriors in Halvard's band, took his place beside him. The warrior grinned through his thick red beard. "Try and keep up, priest."
Svein and Torvald took their place on the bench directly across from them, Svein sitting ramrod straight and trembling with nervous energy. Wulfric clicked his tongue at Dismas and glanced over at Svein. The Chatot turned his head in confusion for a second. "Sit over there," Wulfric hissed. Finally, Dismas seemed to catch his meaning and fluttered over to sit on Svein's shoulder. The boy reached up and stroked the bird's feathers and smiled over at Wulfric. The priest turned his eyes down, but couldn't resist quirking his lips up in a smile as well.
In her boat, Ragnhildr watched the exchange with expressionless eyes as she checked the straps on Sigrund's saddle.
Halvard strode down the middle of the longboat. "All right!" he called. "Let's go!"
At the stern of each boat, a man began to beat out a steady rhythm on a hide drum. The rowers matched their strokes to the tempo and they slid through the water toward the mouth of the fjord. Ivarr's Beartic and Aesgir's Sharpedo swam alongside the boats. Halvard clambered up a rope to the top of the longship's mast and whistled. The water at the mouth of the fjord frothed as Uthald burst from the depths of the trench that ran its length, his sinuous body undulating beneath the surface. When the boats drew closer, Halvard walked along the narrow spar that held the sail and dove headfirst over the side of the ship, kicking through the water to the Gyarados's flank. Uthald lowered himself so that Halvard could climb atop his head and grasp one of the three spines there.
When the three ships reached the open water, Ragnhildr shot off into the sky on Sigrund's back, circling the surrounding sea in a wide arc. After several minutes, she circled back. "I've found them," she called down. "Follow me!"
Wulfric saw the splashes the Wailmer made as they breached before he saw the pokemon themselves. The drums began to beat faster as the ships drew close. Sigrund swooped down and shrieked at the pod, the sound sending the Wailmer into a panicked frenzy. The Noivern made continued passes, splitting the pod with each successive scream. Halvard and Uthald dove before coming up on the other side, hemming the Wailmer in. Ulfi smiled at Wulfric. "Get ready, priest. This is where the fun starts." The other two boats cut off three Wailmer from the rest of the pod. When they tried to dive down to escape their pursuers, the Beartic and Sharpedo quickly dove deeper and forced the Wailmer back to the surface.
The Wailmer began to panic, and Torvald leapt to his feet, grabbing a spear from the rack. He hurled it into the flank of one of the Wailmer, bloodying the water. Ulfi and several other northmen picked up their own spears and began to attack the Wailmer. Ragnhildr and Sigrund swooped over the longships, using sonic blasts to keep the rest of the pod at a distance. Torvald barked orders to warriors on the other two ships, directing them where to cast their spears. The Wailmer struggled and tried to break through the triangle the boats had formed, but they were already weakening. Svein cheered as one of the Wailmer let out a long, low moan and turned up on its side. It still breathed, but it had stopped fighting. Sharpedo and Beartic turned their focus on the remaining two.
Halvard and Uthald swam around the pod, the jarl scanning the sea for something. The sea began to seethe as a massive creature beneath the waves rose to the surface. "Arceus above," Wulfric gasped. In Coumarina, he had sometimes seen Wailord breaching far out at sea. He had heard from sailors and fishermen that they were massive creatures, but nothing had prepared him for this. The Wailord rose from the depths, its massive bulk cresting the waves. Halvard signaled to Ragnhildr, and an instant later Sigrund released a sustained pulse of sound. The Wailord began to fall away from the longships, and Wulfric let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Halvard shouted something, and Uthald put on a burst of speed, circling back towards the longships in a long arc. As the Gyarados passed by, Torvald lobbed a spear towards his brother. Halvard caught it out of the air as Uthald changed direction again, this time swimming straight at the Wailord. Uthald drew close and lunged forward, sinking his fangs in the Wailord's flank. The leviathan groaned and drew away, but Uthald struck again and again, the water around the beast turning red. With a long, low groan, the Wailord descended beneath the waves, its fins working furiously to get it away from the Gyarados.
Halvard barked a command to Uthald and shifted the spear to the crook of his arm while he tied his waist to the longest of the three spars that crowned the serpent's skull. Uthald roared before plunging into the depths after the Wailord, Halvard clutching the spine in his right hand and holding the spear close with his left. Wulfric and the northmen waited in breathless anticipation, staring at the water where Halvard had disappeared.
The northmen had begun to secure the wounded and dying Wailmer to the ships to be towed back to Rovngalad, but Torvald barked an order to bring them all to attention. "Leave them!" he shouted. "Back to your oars! Halvard's coming!"
A massive shape was rising from the depths, and the northmen frantically worked their oars to get out of the way. The Wailord burst to the surface again, bleeding from several new wounds. Uthald had wrapped himself around the back of the Wailord, where it was less broad. Halvard still clung to the spike on the Gyarados's head, but his hair was plastered to his face with a mix of salt water and blood. The spear he had dove with was now buried halfway up its length in the Wailord's flank, and every time he twisted it a fresh gout of blood poured forth. The northmen cheered as the Wailord groaned in obvious pain.
Uthald contorted, sliding back into the water, but instead of delivering the final blow, the Gyarados surged up and bit down at the highest part of the Wailord's back that he could reach. Halvard leapt from Uthald's crest and drew his sword, driving it into the whale's back. He proceeded to walk towards the Wailord's blowhole, drawing a long, gaping wound as he did so. When he was nearly there, the Wailord gave a final moan before closing its eyes and ceasing its struggle. Wulfric clutched his iron ring and said a prayer for the repose of its soul.
Halvard wrenched his bloody sword from the Wailord's back and held it triumphantly above his head, and all the northmen cheered. Torvald grinned up at his brother before turning on his heel and barking more orders to the rowers. They pulled up alongside the Wailord and began driving hooks into the dead pokemon's flanks, securing it with lines to tow back to Rovngalad. Uthald circled around them to keep scavengers away from their prize.
The northmen laughed and joked as they returned to their benches and began rowing back to the fjords of Rovngalad. Svein looked over at Wulfric. "We've never taken down a Wailord before! My uncle said that he and Uthald could do it, but Mother always thought he was just being stupid."
Ulfi laughed. "Next time we go to the clan meet, we'll have to tell everyone all about it!"
"No one will believe us!" Torvald replied. "We'll have to bring some of the bones!"
When the boats finally cut their way up the inlet that led to Rovngalad, Wulfric nearly collapsed off his bench in sheer exhaustion. The adrenaline that had propelled him through the Wailmer hunt had long since faded, and even months of working the fields had not prepared his muscles for nearly nine straight hours of rowing. The boats docked and Ulfi laughed while Wulfric struggled to his feet and tried to disembark. After letting the monk struggle for a moment, he picked Wulfric up and deposited him none to gently on the shore.
Those who had not joined the hunt, mostly the old, the young, the infirm, and many thralls, immediately set out on small fishing boats to carve the meat and blubber from the warriors' catches, along with siphoning off the oil. The smell made Wulfric retch, and he bent double as his stomach threatened to expel its contents, only for him to realize there was nothing to send back up.
Halvard jumped down from Uthald's crown and waded through the shallows, brandishing his sword aloft for the children of Rovngalad to marvel at. He beamed and laughed, but a shadow eclipsed the setting sun, and Sigrund crashed to the earth, landing in a flurry of wings and wind. The Noivern collapsed the moment her feet touched the ground, exhausted from the extended flight. Ragnhildr leapt from her back and laid a hand on the dragon's flank, pressing her forehead to Sigrund's snout and breathing slowly, deeply. Sigrund's frantic breaths slowed to match Ragnhildr's, and she slipped into unconsciousness. Once the Noivern was seen to, the woman whirled on Halvard.
She stalked towards him, and Halvard's grin vanished immediately. Ragnhildr punched her brother across the mouth, sending him sprawling to the ground. The villagers around them gasped in shock and horror, but no one moved to interfere. While Halvard climbed to his feet, Ragnhildr spat in his face. "You idiot," she snarled, punching him again as soon as he stood up, sending him sprawling once more. "How could you be so reckless? Would you deprive your people of their jarl? You could have killed everyone on those boats!"
Halvard got to his feet again, holding up a hand to forestall any further blows. "I did what I had to so I could feed my people through the winter and have enough to trade at the clan meet. Besides," he lowered his voice, "Even were I to die, Torvald could take my place."
Ragnhildr leaned in close. It was only because Wulfric and Dismas had crept closer that they could hear what was said at all. "You know damn well he couldn't do what you can," she hissed. "If you die before you can lead us against the Usurper, I will pray to the Bringer of Death to cast you out of the Glowing Halls and into the Abyss."
Halvard narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."
Ragnhildr tensed to strike him a third time, but held herself back. "You put us all in enough danger just by being alive, Halvard. But it would be worse for all of us if you were dead." She walked off and the villagers went back to carving up the hunt's spoils, but Halvard seemed stricken. After a few moments, he shook his head and made his way up the village's central path, back towards his longhouse. Wulfric forced himself to his feet and trudged after the jarl, but when Halvard reached his fields, he whistled for Steinarr and swung up onto the Gogoat's back. The two of them cantered off into the forest on the far side of the field, and Wulfric knew he had no chance of following now.
He fell to his knees and fumbled for the iron ring around his neck. "Pray with me, Dismas." His Chatot fluttered to the ground next to him and looked up at him expectantly. Wulfric took a shaky breath. "Oh great Arceus, Your humble servants come to you in need of Your grace."
"Praise be to the Lord Most High," Dismas said, giving the proper response. He had often accompanied Wulfric to the daily prayers.
"Oh Lord Arceus, come and heal my troubled heart, deliver me from the darkness and grant me clarity. In Your name we pray."
"Hail to you, oh Lord of Light."
"Craft me into Your instrument so that I may be a light in this darkness, and with your benevolent power deliver me from the torment I find my spirit in. Fill me with Your light and direct my mind and heart into the grace of Your love."
"We bow to Your great name, All Seeing Light."
"Have mercy on my soul, trapped in this purgatory, and look with mercy on this forsaken and troubled man. Admit me into Your thousand-armed embrace and show me the way to guide Jarl Halvard so that we may become the tools with which Your mission on this earth is fulfilled."
"For this, we pray."
Wulfric and Dismas remained there, nearly motionless, until Wulfric's muscles began to stiffen and then pain him. He remained with his forehead pressed to the cold, hard earth, waiting to feel the light and warmth of his faith fill him, but it did not come, and he found no solace.