A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

by Spike368

Sent out to gather the knowledge of the real world. A young scholar from the University of Oxenfurt finds a wounded Witcher on the steps to the inn where he was staying. So he starts gathering the material for his journals. Rated T for language I will be publishing this story on Royal Road /profile/349358

105. Chapter 105

(A/N: Those people that might know where the Yukki-Onna comes from, might consider some of the things that Freddie says as racist. He says and does these things out of confusion and ignorance. So I apologise on his behalf.)

It took us a long time to get off the beach of the Ice Giants.

For a start, the dead needed to be burned according to Skelligan traditions. Aided by, of all people, the trolls, massive chunks of lumber was brought down from above the cliffs by virtue of the trolls climbing the cliffs and simply uprooting the trees and tossing them down onto the sand below. Whereupon the axes of the Wave-Serpent chopped them into firewood and made pyres out of them.

Helfdan, being Helfdan, offered the leader of the trolls...

I say leader, he was more the one who could speak the most continental language and therefore was the troll that could talk to us the most.

… That his fallen should join the fallen of the Wave-Serpent on the fire. The troll had been astonished, and a little flattered I hope, but had turned the offer down on the grounds that his particular group of trolls share the belief of the Elves that once a person is dead, it does not matter what is done with the body. But the funeral rites were actually quite touching. The Trolls came and saluted and roared and stamped their feet in respect for their fallen enemies while the men chanted and prayed. Drink was found and was drunk accordingly and Helfdan and the leader of the trolls told each other that although the future might make them enemies again, that for now they would part as friends.

A number of other ice giants arrived to watch the proceedings as well which was when we also met our first female giant. It was not true, as I had first begun to suspect, that the Yukki-Onna were actually the female gender of the Ice Giant race. There were other female giants and they came out of their caves to mourn their fallen, same as the trolls. There was a larger problem here as centuries of hatred and fear have ears that do not hear.

There were two things that prevented another outbreak of violence between the giants and the remaining men of the wave-Serpent. The first was that the giants were just as angry at their King as Helfdan had been, which was when we started to see a little of their culture coming through. It seems that the title of "King" of the Ice giants is awarded by consensus. The "King" is the person whose knowledge, experience and skills are what is needed at that time. When it is proven that he has either outlived his usefulness, or the circumstances have moved past the place where he would be useful, then the crown is removed from his head. By force if necessary.

We didn't get to hear much of it and what we did get was passed through the filter of translators who weren't really listening, but it would seem that the "King" that we had fought had been chosen by the giants after the most recent conjunction. This was because he had attracted a wife from the new creatures that had come to the island through the rifts. Therefore, the giants had decided that in this new and changing world where relations with these new creatures would be important, the giant that had already formed a relationship along these lines was considered one of the best candidates for the position.

What they hadn't expected was that this giant would then have to fight off, or negotiate with one of the two ancient enemies.

The humans and the Vodyanoi in case you are wondering.

As an aside. The Skelligans refer to the Vodyanoi as "The Fomor" or "The Fomori". They seem to use these two terms interchangeably so I apologise if that is confusing. I don't know if one of them is the singular and the other is referring to the plural of the thing or what. And I didn't ask I'm afraid. I had other things on my mind.

So now that there were the first overtures of peace being made between the collection of "Ice creatures" and the humans, the Ice giants decided that they needed a new King. They hadn't found one that would be suitable yet and were still arguing on the matter. The fact that the old King had lost his battle against the hated humans and potentially driven a wedge between the giants and the other creatures of ice in the process was also something that had not been received with too much good cheer.

So the giants were arguing with each other, an argument fuelled by the fact that there were no male candidates that were able to maintain the relationships between the new comers and the giants, while also having an open enough mind about potentially pursuing peace with the humans.

The Yukki-Onna had added fuel to the fires of debate by suggesting that maybe it was time to consider offering the crown to a female giant. After all, it had worked for the humans. The comment had not helped as much as the Yukki-Onna had thought it would though.

The other reason that there was no outbreak of violence was because of the presence of the Yukki-Onna. The daughter figure never left Sigurd's side and he was lying in his blankets close to the fire as he passed in and out of consciousness. She fed him and brought water when it was needed but otherwise, her eyes were glued to his face. It was odd and kind of sweet, as she seemed to think that they were already married. But on those occasions when Sigurd woke, he wanted to talk about planning their wedding. She would laugh and agree with him before pushing him back down and getting him to go back to sleep.

Although she was learning our language with astonishing speed, her voice was still heavily accented. Despite this the two had seemed to find a way with which they could communicate properly using a combination of sign language, body language and comically exaggerated facial expression. All the while, the girl's bodyguard stood over the pair of them, looking out over everything impassively, her hand resting on the weapon that was tucked into her belt.

I was astonished to find out that the young lady in question was only three years old.

Yeah, just let that roll around in your head for a minute. I found this out when talking to the girl's mother who told us that she, in turn, was six hundred and forty three of our years old. The emphasis on "our" was entirely hers. Then she did a thing that seemed to be a common saying among her people which was to tut, lift their eyes to the heavens before sighing, shaking their heads and muttering "humans" under their breath.

She told me that her people are affected by time in different ways. A male born of a Yukki-Onna is of the race of the father while the female offspring is another Yukki-Onna. The daughter is born with a lot of the knowledge of how their race and society works but are lacking in their own experiences which is why she didn't know all the languages that her mother knew. But she did know her marriage traditions and the traditions of love among her people.

As we would perceive it, the girl was of marriageable age but she had reached that appearance by the age of two and had, in fact, been looking for a worthwhile husband since that time, having found no-one suitable amongst her father's warriors or any of the other people that had come into the world. She had long been curious about the humans that sailed on the horizon but had been forbidden from going to search among them for a husband by her father's hatred.

The other thing was odd that I, in particular as a chronicler, was struggling with was the fact that they really did not have names. Or rather, they chose a name according to who that marriage was with. The girl, as soon as she had finished learning the language of the Skelligans to her satisfaction, would choose a name with Sigurd's input. When Sigurd eventually died to illness, injury or old age, that name would be set aside until she would marry again.

In all innocence, I asked the mother what her name was given that she was married to a giant and she laughed at me. A thing that she did more and more often now that she was becoming more comfortable with me and the situation was becoming less formal.

"Remember that giants don't communicate with only their mouths." She told me. "So my name is actually part colour, part a psychic communication and part noise."

"What is the noise?" I asked.

She whistled. A long noise that started at a high pitch before descending in a bow and lifting at the end.

"Oh." I said and she laughed at me again. She had relaxed a lot more since our opening greetings. She seemed to regard us all as some kind of family now that her daughter had chosen one of us for her mate. If I had been more awake, less terrified about the passage of time or generally less mentally drained by everything then there would have been more questions that I could have asked and had answered for me.

The musician walked freely among the men of the Wave-Serpent. It turns out that she was an entertainer and had lost her most recent husband relatively recently although not during the battle.

I checked.

As such, she did not feel the need to get married again just yet and was less influenced by the presence of "so many beautifully warm men" around herself. That was a direct quote. She walked around and when Helfdan asked her for a performance from the instrument that was slung on her back, she agreed before warning everyone that the sounds would be unusual to us and that we might struggle to understand or enjoy it.

I watched, along with everyone else as she sat near the fire that marked the funeral pyre of the dead, with her large instrument across her knees. The way she seemed to play it was like a large lute. If you played the lute across your knees rather than against your chest or belly. The strings were plucked or strummed horizontally and she controlled the pitch of the instrument by moving her fingers up and down the strings in the same way that you would a lute.

The individual strings produced a sound that I found remarkably pure and resonant before the sound seemed to die. But the order in which she seemed to play the strings, let alone when she strummed at a group of strings at a time, was atonal and unpleasant to me. It was made even worse when she started to sing.

I call it singing but it was more like an odd, shrill kind of shrieking. I could only stand it for so long before I had to move away and I was not alone. When asked for my honest opinion later by the mother. I told her that if the music was just a series of individual notes played slowly and softly in a quiet place, either amongst trees or next to a river then I could see how the sound would be pleasant and simple. How it could aid thoughtfulness and relaxation.

But the more complex the sound became, the less enjoyable it was.

She looked at me strangely. "Interesting" she said.

The only person that liked it all was Helfdan. Because of course it was Helfdan. He loved it declaring that it was "a fascinating marvel of mathematics." I could do little other than look at him strangely after he made that declaration.

The rest of the Yukki-Onna, as more had shown up in the meantime, stood in a line between the giants and ourselves. Made up of what I took to be the Warrior caste of the Yukki-Onna, they stood in their armour with their strange curved blades in their wooden scabbards at their belts. Some faced towards the humans and some faced towards the giants in a way of protecting one side from the other.

I hated the entire process. I wanted to leave. I knew why we couldn't. I knew that it was getting dark and cold and that we needed the fire and the hot food and we needed to pay our respects. But I wanted to go. I wanted to be doing things and working at things. I wanted to be moving. And I was hating myself for that a little bit.

The Wave-Serpent herself was all but undamaged. The wood was too thick and old to have been too damaged by the axe-blows of the retreating men and it had been too cold and damp for the thrown torches to have caught fire. Helfdan's assessment was that the beams that had taken the axe-blows would need to be sanded down when the ship had returned to port and then they would possibly need replacing but other than that, they were good to go.

"You knew that they were going to betray us didn't you?" I accused.

"Who was?" He asked, apparently openly curious.

"Lord Finnvald and the rest."

He stared at me for a long time. "Yes." He said after a while.

"Then... why?... What?...If?..."

Helfdan watched as my mind tried to unravel itself before he decided that I had asked all the questions that I was going to ask, that it was pointless to wait any further for me to decide what I wanted to do and simply walked off while my brain was still trying to process that revelation.

I tried again later. He was sat by the fire talking with the Yukki-Onna. I think that they were doing something vastly more important than what I wanted to ask, something to do with alliances as well as visiting rights when she wanted to come and visit her daughter as well as any potential future grandchildren.

"But if you knew that he was going to betray us. Then why did you...?"

Again, he seemed to wait patiently for my brain to catch up. He was staring at a point just over my shoulder as he waited for me to finish my thought.

It took me a little time to realise that he wasn't going to help me any. That he really was going to sit there and wait for me to give him a real question before he answered it.

"Why did you let him come with us?" I finally managed to ask.

"Ah." It was a small sound of satisfaction that came out of his mouth. As though he had been waiting and expecting a little too long for things to happen for his own comfort. Then he turned and looked into the fire as he ordered his thoughts.

"Yes," The Yukki-Onna commented. "I will admit to some curiosity on my own part as well. Your men fought valiantly and your, up until that point, allies also fought well and bravely. Theirs was not an abject fleeing from the field of battle but an orderly planned and timed withdrawal. They knew that they were going to do that. They knew that they were going to betray you. If you knew that too, then why did you take them along?"

Helfdan ignored her, still looking into the flames.

"Is it the kind of thing that would happen in your previous world?" I asked the woman.

"Yes and no. Such a matter would be considered, but if there was even the hint that one party would betray the other then they would not have travelled together. Let alone coordinate their strategy and tactics. If a man had withdrawn from battle that was not yet decided then he would be in disgrace. Especially if his side had gone onto win, proving that his withdrawal was a matter of cowardice or political motivation, then the man's lord would be demanding his head. The penalties for dishonour and cowardice are rather strong where I come from."

"I see."

We both turned to watch Helfdan who had stared into the fire for a while longer while he considered the question. "Who would claim to be that which they were not?" He asked us both.

"Anyone." I told him after a moment of wondering if he had gone mad.

"Those who's wish is to deceive." The Yukki-Onna suggested.

"Not true." Helfdan responded, still looking into the fire. "although the answer about deception is closer than the Scribbler's answer."

There is a certain school of thought that says that when you are telling someone that they are wrong, you are supposed to soften the blow in some way. To tell them how close they are to being right so that they can correct their mistakes in future times and so that they don't feel quite as bad as they would have done otherwise. It would seem that this sentiment simply didn't occur to Helfdan. Either that or he simply didn't care about it. It was jarring to me. Like so much of the other things about life with Lord Helfdan.

"The answer to the question of "Who would claim to be that which they were not," is not quite so simple."

He sounded like every philosophy professor, who's lectures I had attended in an effort to convince girls that I was actually more intelligent and witty than I was.

"To be able to claim that they are something other than what they are, they must put some work into it. They must find out what deception is going to work on the target of their deception. They must know things. Finnvald needed to get that information from somewhere. He needed to know where I was. He needed to know what I was doing and where I was going. He also needed to know what combination of words he would have to use in order to compel me to trust him."

"What words were those?" The woman asked.

"Do you not remember Scribbler? He told me that the Queen had sent him."

"I remember. You commented that you didn't think that he was a royalist."

"Which he isn't. Just as he knows that I am devoted to the Queen and her rule. And as I know that he leans more towards the traditionalist values. Starting with the facts that the Skelligan isles should be ruled by a King rather than a Queen. He was not incorrect in saying that his Jarl is a royalist either."

"The best lies and deceptions are often built upon a basis of truth." The woman nodded agreement.

"As you say." Helfdan flicked his gaze towards her. "So he was sent. This seems certain. He told me that the Queen had sent him because he knew that my own honour would trap me into accepting his help."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I am known to be a Queen's man. If I decline the Queen's help then I am dishonouring the Queen as I am saying that I do not need her help. Which was true. But also that I do not want her help. Which is not true, any help that the Queen can give me would be more than welcome. But also, I might be saying that I do not trust the Queen's help. Which would be the part where I was insulting her.

"I would hope that the Queen herself would know that I would never do that and that my devotion to her and her cause is absolute. But I am known to be a Queen's man and..."

"If you decline her help," The woman interrupted. "Or infer that she cannot be trusted then other people will consider whether you know something that they don't. Why would you, a Queen's man, turn down and insult the Queen? It must be something important or horrifying to make you do that."

Helfdan flinched at the interruption. I had also realised that point but travelling with Helfdan for a while had made it clear how he would react and I didn't want to upset him. The woman hadn't learned this it would seem. It's petty but this failure on her part made me feel a little better.

"That is correct. He was right in thinking that if he invoked the Queen's name then I would be compelled to allow him to come along on the attack against the Ice giants. There was also more than a small possibility that the offer of aid was genuine and that he really was going to help. I couldn't discount that possibility either but I knew that the balance of things was going to be that he would betray us at some point."

"Why?" The lady asked.

"Why did I know that he was going to betray me or why could I not discount the possibility?"

"Go for both." I told him. "See how we do."

Helfdan nodded at that. "I could not discount the possibility that he was there to help because he invoked the Queen's name. It is one of my most well-known weaknesses that if the Queen orders it, then I obey. People often forget that the follow up to that is that the Queen only tends to order me to do something when she is not as concerned about the "How" something is done. Because the other quality that I have over some of her other captains is that I don't think like they do. So I will do things that they would never consider in order to fulfil the will of the Queen. She had asked that this quest go ahead and as such I would, and will, go to any lengths to see to it that we succeed. People often forget that.

"I knew that he was going to betray me because I know the man. Finnvald is a an opportunist. He tries to play everything to his advantage and is always looking at every situation to see how he, himself, can come out better. He does not care if it kills his men, he does not care if his lord is insulted or dishonoured. So long as the cause of Finnvald is furthered,. If he gains more riches, more fame, more glory, more power or more influence? Then Finnvald considers those actions well taken. The downside of this is that he has little to no purity of purpose. He is always looking for the angle, so he often has a problem with focus or committing to the course of action.

"So here's what I think happened. I think that he really was sent to help us. I think that word of the various things that were being done to delay us, or to prevent our quest were brought to the attention of the Queen. Whether by Rymer or by any of the Queen's other contacts and avenues of information. The Merchant cartels or the traditionalist fighters or someone had realised that there were mercenaries being hired all over the islands in order to prevent our successes. I think that one, some or all of those things came to the Queen's attentions and she asked, in her court, whether there were any captains that were brave enough to sail to our aid.

"I think that Finnvald volunteered. Why? I do not know for sure but I can suppose several reasons. The first is that he saw an opportunity for my destruction. He hates me for my abilities at sea, the fact that I am regularly as successful on my raiding despite my ship being smaller and my commanding less men, and the fact that when the Queen really really needs something doing, she asks me rather than him.

"He also saw an opportunity to gain some favour in the eyes of his Jarl."

"Who is his Jarl?" I wondered. "I never thought to ask."

"He sails for Hjallmar An Craite. They're old drinking friends and Finnvald was part of that crowd of us that used to tool around and get into fights when Eist was still king and Crach was the Jarl of the An Craite clan."

"With The Swallow?" I asked. Now well used to Helfdan's dislike of being reminded about Ciri.

"Yes. So the opportunity to do what the Queen asked would have scored him points with his Jarl. Who is what passes for a moderate on the islands. Hjallmar was a traditionalist but the Queen is his sister so he often falls on both sides of the line.

"But, if he could prevent our success and see to my destruction in the meantime then Finnvald would also gain favour with the traditionalists. When he gets to port, he will allow rumour of what he had done to get out in the local taverns, thus proving his ruthlessness while also letting people know that the reason he had taken this action was to dispose of so untraditional a ship's captain and to ensure the ongoing survival of that most ancient of rites."

"The passage of the Skeleton Ship."

"Correct. If I had to guess, he will now sail back to Kaer Trolde where he will, with tears in his eyes and a tremor in his voice, inform the Queen that I fought most valiantly in the pursuit of my quest but that I was overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers that I faced. That I charged ahead, hungry for glory and got myself and my crew killed.

"The weight of the blame for the death of the Swallow and the death of The Scribbler will thus be placed on my head. The traditionalists will breathe a sigh of relief and it will add fuel to the fire of saying that the Gods dislike me and anything that the Queen does. The Queen will be upset and won't believe that I would be so foolish, but will be unable to prove otherwise and will be forced to reward Finnvald for his loyal service. Thus furthering Finnvald's most important of causes."

"Clever." The woman mused. To my horror, she seemed to admire the man.

"Yes." Helfdan agreed. "Or it would have been if it had worked. Now, we can use this to our advantage."

"To what end?" I wondered.

"Well, my countrymen will think we are dead. The Skeleton Ship will have driven all other ships into port so the only people out there to see what we are doing are going to be those merchant ships who do not understand the concept of Skelligan honour. So the seas are ours. And should we be lucky enough to survive where we must go next. Then I will get to listen to the stories of my death while still being alive."

He gave one of his rare, genuine, if slight, smiles.

"So why did you build him into your battle plan?" I wondered. "If you knew he was going to betray you, then why didn't he just leave you to your landing. We were already committed on the beach. He could have just turned his ships away and sailed off, leaving us to it."

"He could have done. But he wanted to ensure that we were fully committed. Also, if his men escaped free from injury, then that would prove his failure and his lie. He fought, he waited until we were beyond the point of no return where retreat would be impossible and then he left. Svein worked that into our deployment. We wanted him to think that we were destroyed in order to be able to use that against our enemies."

I shook my head. In disbelief more than anything else. Every time I run the risk of underestimating the Skelligans, they take some kind of steps to prove just how different they are, and that they are by no means stupid.

But I still had one question. "What about the Swallow?" I asked. "Would they have been happy just to kill her?"

"I think he would not have even brought that into his thinking. If he thought about it at all, then he would have assumed that the blame for that would have fallen onto my shoulders and that things would have been fine for him and his. Unfortunately for him though, he obviously doesn't know that she can teleport. Which is the flaw in his plan. Because she can go back to Kaer Trolde at any time and expose his treachery for all to see."

He sighed in as close to happiness as I think that Helfdan can get. "I hope I am there to see that."

There were other preparations that were being made as well. Things that I did not entirely understand but that needed to be done. The first and most obvious was that there needed to be provisions made for the wounded. T

he concern was that if we took the wounded over to the local village then there would almost certainly be enemies in that village who would be able to pass the information on that we had survived the battle. Thus squandering any kind of advantage that we had over whichever of our enemies that were still out there. But at the same time, it was beyond the pale to even consider the possibility of just abandoning them to their fates.

Fortunately, this was the easiest problem to solve. The Yukki-Onna told us that the wounded would be cared for until we could come and pick them up. They had already accepted the fact that Sigurd himself would be unable to move as his injuries, both from the monsters as well as the strange nature of his courtship, would mean that he would barely be able to be moved. Let alone doing anything as strenuous as fighting or sailing. So it seemed logical for him and the other wounded members of the Wave-Serpent to stay where they were under the care of the lady of the Yukki-Onna.

Helfdan was nervous about this and understandably so. Wondering what would happen if the ice giants would decide to take their anger out on the injured in return for the recent deaths that had been inflicted. The Yukki-Onna smiled at that and tilted her head to one side for a moment, strangely like a dog listening to the whistle that only it could hear. Then she told us that she and her people would take care of the matter. That the wounded would be brought onto the beach when another human landed on the beach.

She did not promise that those wounded would not also come back with other wives however.

But then there was the less pleasant problem of the fact that it was getting increasingly cold. The sea wasn't freezing yet but it was still getting colder. Every time I thought that it couldn't possibly get any colder at all, Svein or one of the others would tell me that there was still some way to go yet before the temperature would bottom out. I told him that he was not reassuring.

We spent the night on the beach but in the morning, Perrin and Kar went off to go "hunting for supplies to help with the cold," although they wouldn't tell me what those supplies were. I should have known that it would be unpleasant though, given the face that Ciri made. A kind of resigned grimace of anticipated disgust.

She was not wrong.

They came back with some seals and set about butchering them. The old joke about thinking that they smelled bad on the outside was often repeated and although I made no secret about the fact that I was chafing at the continued delays, over and over again I was told that such delays would be the difference between life and death over the next couple of days. The surviving men of the Wave-Serpent got to work and out of the seals and the seal blubber, fur and other things that you don't think of as a seal having. They made gloves, Hoods and all kinds of things. It stank and was made even worse as we had to smear the stuff on our faces and all kinds of unpleasant things in order to retain the heat.

It was an effort just to keep from retching. But I was reassured by the fact that Ciri in particular was clearly as disgusted at the necessity as I was, but that she didn't even blink before she covered herself in the goop and the smelly hides of the sea creatures.

They were, actually, extremely warm.

I also had to listen to a lecture from Perrin on the subject of being out in the ridiculous levels of cold that we were expecting. It had the feeling of one of those speeches that people give soldiers before battle. Or that huntsmasters give hunters before they set out on the hunt. Not the stirring, uplifting kind of speech but rather the practical kind of speech. Where they tell you what the dangers are, what you're supposed to do. The calls you are supposed to make if you find yourself in trouble. To always look for the banner if you get lost. To stay together, shoulder to shoulder. Don't let yourself get drawn out. Stay with the group. Watch where you're going and don't let your horse eat from this kind of tree.

That kind of thing. The kind of speech where everyone always knows what's in the speech and has listened to either that speech or a speech just like it hundreds, if not thousands of times before.

There was an odd atmosphere amongst the men as they did it. It was clear that the sailors already knew about all of this stuff but they listened carefully anyway. Kerrass and Ciri were intent too. In my occasional role as a recorder, I found myself paying attention while also watching the reactions of the crowd.

There were some obvious pieces of information. Cover up at all times. Never touch cold metal with bare skin. Do not fall into the trap of being dehydrated. If your fingers or toes start to feel numb or tingly then you need to address the matter immediately.

But there were also some surprising ones. Like the one about measured exertion. Apparently, one of the most dangerous things that can happen when you are moving, working or travelling in extremely low temperatures is whether or not you start to sweat. Apparently, that's really dangerous. We were also told that it is better to strip naked and return to warm clothing than to trust in the water-proof nature of the clothing itself.

Go figure.

There were also some other things that I didn't know but I could understand why they were important. That I was to look out for any kind of discolouration of the skin on myself, especially fingers, toes and genitals. That many problems could be solved by making sure that my feet were warm and dry and so on and on.

I also had my first snow bath. It was, at the same time, the most painful and most exhilarating thing that could have happened.

There were conflicts in just about everything there. Disagreements and paradoxes that I couldn't possibly understand. Nor did I try to. In the end, I just continued with the way that I had learned to behave when travelling with Kerrass. Head down, pay attention and do what you need to do. Because I was being told things that would go towards keeping me alive.

And, so Svein told me, making sure that I was still enough of a man to satisfy my wife on my wedding night. I didn't need that extra piece of encouragement but it did rather stick in my mind.

Then there was the other problem that we had. Something that was fueling my dissatisfaction and that was with the information that the Ice Giant had given us. Or rather, the lack of it.

It was all really anti-climactic really. It turns out that the very first thing that he told us was true. When he said, "even if he knew, then he wouldn't tell us." Thus suggesting that he didn't know. This was true. He had no new information to give us and that was heart-breaking for me. There was an enormous weight of guilt that came crashing down on my head when he finally admitted that. That all those people had fought and died for nothing. That I had been the instrument of their death. That came close, again, to my calling the whole thing off.

Kerrass had to take me a bit in hand after that and not for the first time. I wanted to call the thing off because all that I could think about were those men that had lost their lives since my quest, my mission to find my sister had begun. All the injury, death and destruction that had happened since then had been unneeded. The matter with the church of Sansum, the Cult of the First-Born. What had happened in the business with the Unicorn and now, the death of the many fine men of the Wave-Serpent.

Logically and clinically I know that none of those things were my fault. I can claim the guilt of some of the things that happened in Toussaint but for the rest, there is even an argument to be made that things would have been worse if Kerrass and I hadn't been there. Would the cult of the First-Born still be hunting Elves and the less fortunate through the woods. Would the Unicorn and Schrodinger now be alive or would they now be dead? Would the knights of Sansum have continued their crusade against their perception of evil.

There is no knowing the answers to any of these questions of course. And when I was feeling strong enough and healthy enough, you know, when I'm not in the middle of my normal post battle depression, I would be able to see these things for the self-flaggelation that they were. But right then and right there. I saw all that death and all of that suffering as something that I was responsible for and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Kerrass intercepted me before I could go to Helfdan and call the entire thing off. He told me, backed up by Ciri, that Helfdan and the crew would take it as an insult to the men who had died in the carrying out of this quest if we stopped now that it was getting a bit hard. The pair of them also told me that they would be right to do so.

Then Ciri hugged me and told me that she loved me for feeling that way though. We had a little weep together and talked about how much we both missed Francesca before we returned to the small clump of people that were still questioning the giant.

I absolutely believe that there was nothing more that he could tell us about the ship. Both his wife and his daughter pressed him closely and harshly on the subject and no-one. Not even the hardest-hearted man in the world could have stood before the onslaught of the woman that he loved and the daughter that he plainly adored.

There was simply nothing else to be told. He could not give us any information about the ship. He agreed with us that the thing was ancient and that it had been coming to these islands for a long time. Since long before the colonisation of the islands by the Humans. He agreed that it was a thing of power and he did speak a bit about the significance of the thing when it came to the giants themselves.

The giants didn't feel the cold, it didn't affect them in the same way, there was even something to be said that the giants actively became stronger the colder that it got which, in turn, suggested the real underlying reason why the giants weren't entirely happy with the prospect of helping us destroy or dismiss the ship.

He gave us plenty of myths and stories about it. Including the theory that the giants themselves had come to the islands aboard the Skeleton Ship but even he admitted that this was the giant equivalent of a bed-time story. He told us that it was the ship that carried the Eternal Frost everywhere. He also said that it was Winter itself travelling through the lands. It was plain to see that he himself didn't believe in any of these things but as to what we wanted to know? What the ship might have lost? He couldn't help us.

What he told us was where to look.

One of those things that seems obvious when you look back.

He told us that the ship was a thing of the sea. The undisputed lords of the sea in the ancient times were the Vodyanoi so we should go and talk to them. That they knew everything that happened in those oceans at those times which is why they always knew where the human longship were. Where the Ice-Giant crafts were. They always knew because the sea was their realm and they knew how it worked, they understood it in a way that no other creature could even begin to understand.

So we were going to see the Vodyanoi.

The effect that this had on the Skelligans was extraordinary.

I had always thought of the Skelligans as being a fearless people. Often to the point of ridiculousness and foolishness.

But that day I learned a different interpretation. It's a controversial one and one that they probably won't thank me for. But I do think it's one that is worth writing down.

I should say, for those few of you that might want to take this interpretation to the islands, or those few Skelligans that I know that might be reading this...

Hello by the way,

…. That I say all of these things with love. The truth is probably that it lies somewhere in the middle. But here's my alternative hypothesis.

Are you ready?

My alternative hypothesis is that the Skelligan people are actually ruled by their fears. They go so far as to have codified their fear and set them down in books of "traditions" and "customs." Then the Skalds learn vast numbers of stories about times that these customs and traditions have been abused or denied in some way which means that the lesson is reinforced for the young Skelligans who then go on to reinforce those same lessons into their young folk and on and on and on.

Some time ago I talked about the traditions of sea faring but there are many others as well. No-one takes the laws of hospitality quite as seriously as the Skelligans do. Wars have been fought over this person or that person breaking just the smallest measure of the traditions.

I have also spoken about the Skelligan love of storytelling. That they have a story or an anecdote about every situation. Sometimes that story is true and sometimes it is meant as a metaphor and sometimes a parable. But the story is always told with the conviction that the thing being imparted onto the listener is the truth of the universe being imparted.

And for all I know it might be.

What this means is that there is little to no way of telling fact from fiction. I was talking about Hospitality. I once asked a warrior why the law of hospitality is so important and he spun me a tale. This was early on after my landing on the islands while I was still recovering from the crossing and he told me a tale about how a warrior had been sent to speak with a Witch...

I'm not getting into the politics of calling a woman a Witch when she's actually a sorceress, wise woman, healer, herb-woman or anything else. I'm not touching that with a ten foot boar spear.

The locals were worried about the presence of the Witch with the normal kinds of worries that locals have when a woman settles in the area and seems to know a little bit about things that normal people aren't supposed to know about. Things like the laying numbers of the hens, the quality and quantity of the milk that the village cow produces, crop yields and weather patterns and the like.

So they sent the warrior. The warrior, being a Skelligan, marches up to the old-woman's hut (as I say, I didn't touch the gender politics of the thing) and knocked on the door to enquire as to the woman's purpose in the area. She invited him inside with courtesy so the warrior took that as an expression of hospitality.

They spoke for a while when it became clear that the warrior was unsatisfied with the answers that the witch was giving him and told her that she would have to move on as the local lord was not happy with the kinds of things that the Witch wanted to do in the area.

As I say, there is a lot of context missing and I had so many questions as a result of this that I found it a little off-putting. But that wasn't part of the story and therefore the details were unknown. If there was any kind of realism to the story, then the chances were good that the woman wanted to act as a midwife and to offer preventatives to those women that didn't want to get pregnant in the first place. You'd be quite astonished at the number of lords who see this kind of thing as being anything to be upset about. There are any number of things that meant that a lord could want the wise woman, Sorceress, witch, Herb-woman to move on and I'm sure that you can fill in the blanks yourself.

The point being that the warrior told the woman that the Lord would not be happy at her presence and that she should move on at her earliest convenience. Which, as we all know, means right fucking now.

The witch did not take kindly to this and cast a spell at the warrior who rose to his feet ready to flee. "Never had the desire to fight back been stronger in the warrior's heart. But he was invited in and could not break the laws of hospitality." Instead, he chose to flee but the woman's voice faltered as she looked down at her feet in horror and saw the slow spread of crystalline structure creep along her limbs as she turned into salt before the horrified warrior's eyes. So let that be a lesson to you. Never ever break the laws of hospitality less your own curse be turned back against you."

The story was told with more flourishes than that. There were jokes and silly voices and miming, all feeding into the skill of the storyteller. But can you imagine being told that when you were young. The sheer power of a child's imagination going along with that.

It is the same with the act of cowardice. Only the bravest of warriors can pass into the afterlife, borne aloft on the winged horses of the Valkyr while cowards are cursed forever.

So, there is an argument to be made that Skelligans are not brave. What they are doing is being terrified of being cowards. Terrified of being afraid.

Does that equal bravery? I'm not the wisest person to ask on the subject. I think that the Skelligans are brave. As I say, sometimes to the point of foolishness and are a little too eager to elevate and cherish strength at arms above all other virtues for my taste. But you will never see a more caring people. They care so very deeply about everything.

But I had never seen them be afraid, not truly, not until the giant told us that the answers that we sought would be found among the Vodyanoi. It was like a collective shudder went through the survivors of the battle. There was a common refrain of "Out of the frying pan and into the fire," all while men milled around and stared at nothing.

This was strange for me. I had been used to men being with me and on my side when it came to my desperation to move on, to get to the next stage and to do the next thing. But now, it was as though I was against the remaining members of the crew as well. Those wounded men were commiserating with those that would carry on about what they were going to do. There was... It was as though the enthusiasm had completely left them and I did not understand it.

In all honesty, I didn't want to understand it either. To me it was a desperately unfair thing. I wanted to get moving and carry on. But I was worried. These men were willing to sail into the arms of the oncoming Skeleton Ship in order to help me to carry out my quest. They followed me onto a beach of giants and had sailed against pirates and walked into battle in order to see this through. But now, now we were going to see the Vodyanoi. A people that the Priestesses of Freya had promised us, would be receptive to our overtures of discussion. Much more so than the giants had been. We had been given everything we would need in order to make contact including location. The only thing that was in short supply, really, was time.

So it horrified me to find that the Skelligans had lost their energy, their confidence and their... I want to say drive. Whatever it was that had powered them into the waiting trolls and giants, it was as though it had been snatched away.

And I didn't understand it. So I did what I always do when I come across something in the world that I don't understand. I went to see Kerrass.

I found him sitting at a fire with Ciri. They were exchanging notes about the creatures that we had just met. Talking shop mostly about the names of the things that the Yukki-Onna had talked about as well as maintaining their weapons. Discussing the origins of the names of the things and therefore what they might be like and onto what might be used to destroy them should any of them get out of hand. It was a bleak topic but it struck me as more the kind of thing that two Witchers would do in order to just pass the time. Their equivalent of shop talk.

Where other craftsmen might talk about wood or different kinds of stone, Witchers talk about variations in monsters and how that effects the hunts. On those rare occasions where I've seen Kerrass interact with other Witchers, there is often a moment where they exchange notes on the monsters that they've both seen and the variations that occasionally crop up. Things like "I'm heading south soon, do Wyverns fly differently in Lyria and Rivia when compared to those that are found amongst the Hengfors league?"

The answer is, yes. Yes they do.

But they both looked up as I approached.

"He's got that look." Ciri commented to Kerrass.

"Which look?" Kerrass wondered.

"You know the one. The one that essentially declares that he's confused about the way the world is working at the moment."

"Oh that look. I always took that look for meaning that he needs to get laid. That or he's constipated."

"How do you normally deal with that look?"

"Generally, I ignore him until he goes away. That or find a willing woman to deal with that."

"Does that work?"

"Not as much as it used to. Not since he got engaged. In all truth, I'm a little worried about him. He must be getting quite backed up by now."

Ciri laughed a little. "Are you talking about the constipation or the other thing?"

"The other thing mostly." Kerrass squinted along the edge of his sword.

"I can't even begin to tell you." I began carefully. "Just how glad I am that the two of you have started ganging up on me."

"What can I say?" Ciri protested. "You occasionally look like you need a big sister to slap you about a bit."

"I have a big sister thank you so much."

"And she isn't here so I will just have to do won't I." She grinned at me before tilting her head to one side. "Alternatively, I do have a mix of herbs that works to dislodge something if you are having bowel trouble. If it's the other thing then I can't really help you."

I looked around for a suitably sized clump of snow, fashioned a snowball and threw it at her. She dodged.

Because of course she dodged.

And laughed. "I'll leave you two to it." She told us both. "I'm not in the mood for deep thoughts just yet. So I'm going to go and see if I can persuade that Yukki-Onna to play some more music."

"Are you sure?" Kerrass asked her. "I think I would rather have my own eye-balls scooped out than listen to any more of that horrible screeching." Kerrass had not appreciated the strange music.

"Quite sure. Even if only to watch the expressions that you pull when she starts hitting some of those high notes."

Kerrass glowered at her. The last refuge of a man who has run out of things to say.

Ciri got up and walked off in the direction of the fire as I sat on the piece of driftwood that she had just vacated.

"What's on your mind Freddie?" Kerrass asked. He had switched to his steel sword now and was running a whet stone along the edge in long, even strokes.

I took a deep breath and plunged in. I was actually quite glad that Ciri had chosen to move away, her love for the Skelligans can sometimes be a little overwhelming and I didn't want to run the risk that my questions would make her angry.

"Ummm. I don't understand."

"There are many things that you don't understand Freddie, care to narrow it down a little bit?"

"I sense that you are teasing me."

"Only a little bit. You're locked into your own head, anyone can see that and if I had to guess, there are actually several dozen things that are bothering you at any one time. So pick one and we'll talk about it and then, with a bit of luck, you will sit the fuck down and calm your self." There was another metallic rasp as he ran the stone up the sword. "You're making me nervous."

"I'm making you nervous."

Kerrass sighed. "And now you're dodging the subject. But yes, you are making me nervous. I am concerned that the visit to the cave of the berserkers has changed something in you a little bit. I can feel something building in you and I'm not sure what that thing is or whether or not I like it. I had kind of hoped that you would feel a bit better after having something honest to Goddess to be able to hit. But that doesn't seem to have worked out for you. Instead, if anything, you seem more jittery afterwards."

He took another stroke of the stone. "I stress that you have plenty of legitimate reasons to get cross and angry and confused and everything about. But for right now...?" He shrugged. "But I don't think we're going to fix that today. Instead, what is it you came over here to talk about and we'll see if we can put that one thing to rest. So, I say again, what's on your mind Freddie?"

"I don't understand."

"Ok, now you're mocking me."

"Only a little bit." I intentionally mimicked him from earlier. "But it's true, I'm struggling to understand what's happening here. The Skelligans are mighty warriors, up until today, if you'd asked me, I would have told you that I thought that they were fearless. But after it's been mentioned that we would be going off to see the Vodyanoi. It's like a... I don't know, it's like they're jumping at shadows and walking on tip-toes. I've seen them spit to ward off evil more in the last few hours than I have seen them do since we came to the islands. Svein keeps touching the axe at his belt to reassure himself that it's there and I don't get it. What's different about the Vodyanoi?"

"What do you know about the Vodyanoi?"

"As little as everyone else I suspect. I know that they're ruled by their different religions and if you meet one say, around the lake in Vizima, the chances of whether or not they are going to behave like friends or try and rip your throat out depends on whether or not they worship Dagon or the Lady of the Lake."

Kerrass nodded and gestured for me to keep going.

"I know that they are on a technilogical par with ourselves except in those areas where they exceed us. I have heard stories of machines that allow them to talk to us although I have never seen one or met anyone that has seen one. The fact that they can forge metal and armour that works as armour and keep it under water without it rusting into dust speaks for their advanced knowledge of metallurgy. Maybe even more than the Dwarves and gnomes."

"Go on."

"They can breathe underwater and I understand that they wear masks to allow themselves to breathe on land. They share the sea and some of the Pontar tributaries with the Merpeople and the Naiads but their relationship with those two other races is either antagonistic or respectful. Again, according to whatever religion the Vodyanoi in question are following when they meet."

"Do you know their history when it comes to the Skelligan islands?"

"Not really. I know that they were an invading force and that they occupied these islands while being at war with the Ice giants. And that they enslaved the humans in the following of that war."

"Correct as far as it goes. For the full version of that story, you would be better of talking to one of the Skelligans. Thorvald probably or even Helfdan might be able to give you a more accurate historical recount of the matter. But the Vodyanoi defeated the Ice giants with using the Skelligans as slave armies. Then the Skelligans resisted until the Vodyanoi retreated. Presumably as part of a desire for a quiet life. But there were years where the Vodyanoi would still raid the shoreline of the islands. Stealing babies and massacring settlements. In every way that the Skelligans are feared up and down the coastlines of the continent, the Vodyanoi did the same around the islands."

"So there might even be a historical argument to be made that the Skelligans learned their trade at the hands of the Vodyanoi?"

"There might, but don't mention such a theory around the Skelligans if you want to survive."

"Good advice." I mocked him. I know that Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but sometimes, Kerrass deserves it. "Because I've had a deep and increasing desire to see what my spleen actually looks like."

Kerrass chuckled. "Alright..."

"I mean, I've seen other people's spleens but I always thought that mine would be that little bit better you know? Because I'm better than they are."

"You done?"

"I've got more but... I suppose I can let you off."

"They never defeated the Vodyanoi. They drove them away but that isn't really a victory. The ice Giants were all but destroyed, driven underground only for odd giants to come out and wreck havoc around the place. But the Vodyanoi? The Vodyanoi retreated. There were a few battles to be sure. And both sides won some of those battles but it wasn't a war like that. It was a war of skirmishing. Of men and Vodyanoi jumping out and fighting. Eventually though, the Vodyanoi can't breathe the air. So suddenly, all the ore and other raw materials that the islands gave them were just... not worth the effort. So they left. Or at least, that's the most reasonable explanation for why they retreated.

"But that leaves the Skelligans with the fear. What if the Vodyanoi came back? They haven't. There hasn't been a raid for decades, if not centuries by now. But what if, one day, the Vodyanoi came to the surface in a massive wave and decided to destroy the upstart humans. What could any of us possibly do to stop them?

"And that's the fear. It's the fear of the boogeyman behind the door, the monster under the bed. It's the dark gap in the trees that your mind imagines red glowing eyes in the depths of and why we're so keen to imagine supernatural causes for all of life's little problems rather than to just admit that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad. The difference is... or rather one of the differences is, that the Skelligans know that the boogeyman is out there.

"There is also the fact that the Skelligans make their living off the sea. Queen Cerys is right in many of her reforms. About teaching her people to farm and creating arable land and working with the druids to drain some of the swamps and make other bits of land more fertile. And one of the reasons that some folks are supporting her in that is this. If they wanted to, the Skelligans would lose their mastery of the sea. They would just be destroyed. In the same way that we have our mastery of the ground and the air, the Vodyanoi have the mastery of the sea. We intrude on their realm every time we set sail and the Skelligans know that.

"A water breathing Vodyanoi warrior swims under water and takes one of their spears to the underside of the Wave-Serpent's hull. There is absolutely nothing we could do to stop that. So their fear is very real.

"But then there is the cultural thing. Fear is anathema to them. They see fear as being a weakness rather than the very real instinctual reaction of a body to danger. Fear breeds caution but they can't see that. They don't know that and they resent anything that might cause them to feel that same fear."

"All of those are good answers Kerrass. And I can see and understand them all. But I don't get it. I just don't. All of those fears are valid. But what you describe are obstacles to overcome. Yes, all of those problems would be serious. I agree. But, off the top of my head, there would be things that could be done to protect from them. The Skelligans have already proved fierce fighters so if the Vodyanoi took up raiding again then they could be fought off. There are already alarm systems set up around the islands. And as you say, the Queen is taking steps to address the dependence on sailing and raiding.

"I might argue that self-sufficiency might drive the Skelligans towards isolationism but they are already doing that. And as for the whole thing about drilling holes in the bottom of the ship thing. I have no doubt that there are magical things that could be done. I don't know how it would work but if you had a mage who could detect underwater attackers. A lightening bolt into the water would have some effect. Or other countermeasures."

"I think you're missing the point. This is a primal fear for the Skelligans. It's an instinctual, bone deep fear. An enemy that they have never been able to defeat that could return at any time to destroy their way of life. And they don't know how they won. Now, here's a crazy continental Lord and his mutant friend along with a woman that so obviously causes their lord distress by her very presence. And they are expecting to be taken off to talk to their ultimate enemy."

I still didn't get it though and Kerrass could tell.

"Ok. Real talk now." He began, putting his sword away in the sheath on his back. "This is going to make you feel awful and I apologise for that in advance but you want to know the truth? This is why these people are terrified. You ready?"

I nodded. Taking a deep breath.

"You and I have had a remarkable run. We really have. Neither us have been crippled. Injured? Yes. Sick? Yes. Forced to adjust thinking against our own will? Absolutely. But neither of us have lost limbs or lost facial features and the scars that we have received have been more of the kind of "sexy interesting" scars that give us something to talk about with women at parties. We haven't lost our ears, or a nose, nor do we have huge mass of scar tissue on the side of our faces or any of the other things that can happen in my line of work. We have fought, we have bled and, for the most part, we have been victorious. Am I wrong?"

"Interesting phrase that. "For the most part"."

"Which is actually my point. We have outright failed, once. Against Jack. But there are two other times where our victories hardly count as such. Let's discount Jack for a minute. My darkest moment during our journeys together came at the hands of the Cult of the First-Born. I am dissatisfied with where that was left. We won because I managed to put together an obscure number of things into the right order to come back with a victory. But we succeeded because we fled and made it to safety. We did not destroy our enemy. We fled from them. But that's about me and we're talking about you."

"You saved all of us Kerrass." I told him. Not for the first time. "You saved us and if you hadn't then the cult would still be..."

He waved me off. "I know I know. I know all the lines but I'm still not happy with it. But as I say. This is about you not me. For you, and as I say, I'm sorry if this upsets you. But we're talking about the Beast of Amber's crossing."

I shuddered and fought down the panic that had formed in the pit of my stomach.

"See?" Kerrass asked. "You are far from a physical coward. You are not afraid of physical hurt or injury. You don't like the idea but then again, who would? You have accepted the possibility of injury, maiming or death at the hands of a blade or the claws of a creatured. But the loss of sanity... The loss of your soul or whatever you want to call it. That terrifies you. And rightly so.

"But here's the rub. We didn't kill it. We defeated it by luck and trickery rather than design and strength at arms. We manipulated it into leaving but it could just as easily have gone the other way and taken your soul with it. You nearly didn't survive that and it was only through intense effort on your part. Effort and a bravery that few would be able to match, that you were able to bring yourself back from the abyss and survive what that creature did to you."

He stared at me for a long time. "Am. I. Wrong?" He asked.

I shook my head. I was shaking.

"So now, picture the scene. We are going up against a terrible and terrifying evil. A thing that we can barely comprehend and that could overwhelm us. We go everywhere trying to find a way to defeat it. We speak to Ariadne and Maleficent. We talk to all the Witchers that we can find. We consult druids, Sorceresses and priests and we can find no answer. We talk to travellers from different realms and beasts that can barely communicate with us and finally we receive news. That news being that there is one being that can give us the information that we seek. That being is the darkness that lives in the woods outside of Amber's crossing. So now, we have to go and speak to it. And get it to tell us what we need to know."

Kerrass stared at me for a long time.

"Now do you understand? The Vodyanoi are the ancient, undefeated enemy that did a lot to make the Skelligans who they are today but that, in turn, the Skelligans did not manage to actually defeat. And now, we are going to talk to them."

I nodded, gritting my teeth against the tremors.

"I'm sorry Freddie." He put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's ok." I forced out, placing my hand on top of his. "I asked."

He nodded at that. "If you want to know the history of the thing. I would suggest that you ask the questions. Speak to someone. I have no doubt that the battles in question would make for fascinating reading."

"I will." I managed to find the humour somewhere. "Maybe not today though eh?"

"You're right." Kerrass smiled at me. "maybe not today."

So, you might be wondering how Helfdan overcame this problem with his people. I certainly was. Now that I had seen that a problem existed I was really curious as to how it would effect his decisions and what he was going to do, or say, in order to get people onto the ship and get us back in the water and doing what we needed to do. Because, I had no idea how we were going to proceed from there.

The answer was rather surprising really. He didn't do anything. He just carried on with his chores and did everything that he was supposed to.

He arranged the dispensation of the wounded. He furthered the illusion that the Wave-Serpent had been destroyed at the hands of the ice giants by directing the walking wounded to head to the nearest settlement in order to tell folk what would happen. This did cause some controversy because it meant that Helfdan was lying to a clan that might be an ally but Helfdan explained it away as saying. "If it gains us even a moments confusion then it was worth it."

The Yukki-Onna promised to keep an eye on them and to make sure that they made it there safely. Sigurd would not be going with the walking wounded as he was far too injured to be moved easily. That and his new lady simply refused to be parted from him. After a while it was decided that it was more trouble than it was worth to explain how these wounded men would find a strange, beautiful, white skinned girl out in the wilderness. A girl who could barely speak anything intelligible, despite her rapid progress in picking things up, and was clearly from a vastly different culture.

That was kind of sweet as well. The girl clearly thought of herself as already being married but Sigurd was still struggling to get his head round the idea. He kept apologising to her for not being able to "pay court to her" as he properly should. The compromise was that when he was picked up. Either by Helfdan and the Wave-Serpent, or from the local village when it became clear that Helfdan had failed and had been destroyed, then there would be a Skelligan marriage ceremony where she would wear a dress and there would be an exchange of gifts and a druid, a priestess would bind the two of them together formerly before the Gods.

It was clear, to me at least although I suspect that some other people spotted it, that the girl was humouring him. I think that Sigurd had gone into a state of shock. He was still struggling with the fact that he had been so permanently and utterly injured, while at the same time, he had found a woman who loved him.

And she really did. You could tell that just by looking at the pair of them together. I suspect that it was just taking a bit of time for him to catch up with everything.

But I digress...

Once that was sorted out, the Yukki-Onna also agreed to find some other ship wreckage from up and down the coast and to set it adrift into the ways. That in an effort to tell anyone that might come after us that we had, indeed, been sunk.

But Helfdan did nothing about his men's worsening mood. Once he had assured himself that we had all the supplies that we would need, again we were helped in that by the Yukki-Onna, he simply ordered his men aboard and we set sail again.

I did wonder about that. Whether he did it intentionally or not, his simply not addressing the fear of his men meant that it was seen as almost a lesser problem. As though it was beneath him. It showed his men that he, at least, was not afraid of whatever there might be waiting for us all underneath the waves. So his men looked to him, saw that he was unafraid or that he didn't care and simply straightened their shoulders, came aboard and got to work.

I do wonder if he did it deliberately and I also wonder how things might have been different if he had taken the time to address what was going to happen. Would there have been a change as to the attitude of the men? Would it have confirmed the risk in their eyes or not?

I have no idea and I didn't want to ask him. I didn't know what I would be more afraid of. Knowing Helfdan, there was a very real possibility that it simply hadn't occurred to him to be afraid in the first place. Therefore he had assumed that his men weren't afraid and had just got on with life.

I don't know which theory I find more interesting.

So we set sail. It took every hand, including mine and Kerrass' to get the Wave-Serpent off the beach. It turned out that another of Helfdan's precautions in protecting us from the treachery of Finnvald was that he had intentionally driven the ship onto the beach quite hard. Thus meaning that Finnvald's men wouldn't be able to set the ship adrift and maroon us on the island.

The downside though was that we were digging and heaving to get the ship back afloat and many of us were cold, wet and sweaty by the time we were done.

Which was when I found out why sweating in extreme cold is so dangerous. Turns out that it's because the cold will freeze the sweat which will bring the body temperature down. So there you go. Never say I don't teach you anything.

And then we were under way again.

It was bitterly cold. Horribly cold and there was no shelter from it at all. I don't know if we could have made it without Kerrass' ability to heat rocks and therefore to make hot food for us all to eat. The necessity of sharing body heat meant that we all got much friendlier with each other and modesty was a luxury that we had to do without as we all huddled together for warmth.

We also stank. There had been no real time to cure the furs that we were wearing to try and keep the heat in, this with the grease and stuff that we smeared our faces with in an effort to insulate ourselves. In certain circles there is sometimes an effort to make the idea of "sharing body heat" in extreme cold come across as sexy. Well I'm here to tell you that it isn't. There was just a lot of tired, shivering men and one woman trying to survive Even the most attractive and beautiful person in the world doesn't look attractive when they are turning blue and shivering with the cold.

But not a one of them complained. Flame love them for it. Not a one of them suggested that we should turn for port or that we might want to consider an alternative course of action. When I eventually asked what the cut off point was that we would be forced to turn to port for our own safety, Helfdan told me that when the sea around where we were going was truly becoming solid then we would be forced to hack our way to shore.

When I questioned the choice of words he pointed to a bundle that had stayed in the bottom of the Wave-Serpent. Turns out that the bundle was of these huge, ugly and monsterously heavy axes. He literally meant that we would have to hack our way through the ice for the Wave-Serpent to make port.

The other cut off point was if the Skeleton Ship became visible as the ship was known to occasionally attack those other ships that could be found on the waves. And if it became clear that the Skeleton Ship was heading for Ard Skellig for it's final circuit. When I asked which of these things was likely to come first, he couldn't answer me.

So we struggled onwards.

The meeting point that we had been told about was to the North. It felt a little bit as though we were being mocked by this as this was also the direction that the Skeleton Ship had gone in. So we were sailing blind. Our hope, maybe a fool's hope, was that the Skeleton Ship was caught up in the group of smaller islands to the North West of the main group of islands. Therefore, we could cut inside the circle of the outer islands in order to get where we were going. We were not that hopeful though, such thoughts meant that we were depending on luck and our luck had not been all that great over the time that we had spent on the mission.

But what else was there to do?

It was not helped by the fact that we had to take very real precautions while sailing. The course we had laid meant that we would be perilously close to Ard Skellig. Not that we were afraid of the waters, but that meant that our survival might be given away to spies. But the other thing, as I say, was the sheer cold. This meant that ice was forming on the sail overnight. It meant that we would need to stop that little bit earlier in order to build fires and set shelters.

It was the first time that I ever heard of something called an igloo. A small domed construction made out of ice where you would then light a fire inside. It sounds stupid to take shelter in a room made out of ice, but the ice had this effect of reflecting the heat back into the room until it got surprisingly warm. And we needed every warmth that we could get or we would not survive.

Everywhere we went, we could see signs of the coming of the Skeleton Ship. Huge boulders of ice floated in the sea, floating south. Helfdan steered us well round them telling me that ice bergs were much larger beneath the surface than was easily understood. So it was actually really dangerous to get too close.

I saw a tree shatter with the cold. I had heard about it before but had never actually seen one. When the cold is so intense that the sap inside the tree freezes. As it freezes it expands and the tree seems to crack and explode.

We found a sheep that had frozen to death. It was impossible to tell how it had happened, presumably it had wandered away from the herd and the Shepherd had not realised what had happened as he was gathering in the rest of the flock. Or, as Svein told me was more likely, the farmer in question was far too afraid of the coming cold than he was of the possibility of losing a few sheep to the cold. It was like a solid lump of meat. There were scratches on it from where slightly hardier predators had tried to take bites out of but had been unable to get any purchase in order to get at the meat properly.

So we ate it ourselves. It made for a good mutton strew with a broth for the following morning. Skelligan pragmatism at it's best.

I also had an exciting experience the first time that my hair froze to the ground while I was asleep, or that time my drool froze to my face.

Oh come on, we all do it.

It was tough. Really tough. Tough enough that we weren't really able to train. Tough enough that even Kerrass was struggling, to taunts and jeers of "Kitty cats prefer the warmth". Ciri really struggled with it. And I was worse off than she was.

But here comes the surprise. It was actually a really happy period. If I hadn't been so wound up about everything and the pending delays and the constant state of fear that was coming over us. The threat of the Skeleton ship and so on. I would even have said that it was among the high points of my journeys so far.

Obviously the exceptions would be meeting Ariadne and falling in love with her as well as her agreeing to marry me.

But when one of us was struggling, there was always someone else there to offer a joke. When one of us got angry and needed to blow off some steam, we understood. It was a bonding experience. Taking nothing away from the men that we had had to leave behind due to injury, those of us that remained were forged into a crew. There were twelve men, plus Helfdan, Ciri, Kerrass and myself and the sixteen of us formed a kinship that was formidable.

If you want to know, my contribution towards the generalised entertainment was that I started to learn how to row. Once again proving that just because I can ride, or walk all day. Train with Kerrass twice a day and all the physical hardships that go with that. I am still monstrously unsuited for physical labour.

But there was something missing. I still didn't know anything about the Vodyanoi and their relationship with the Skelligans. So I actually went to Helfdan with my problem.

As always, he was sat by the fire, feet stretched out towards the fire, boots, possibly a little closer to the flames than they really should have been and he was reading. The book on his knees. Periodically he would un-tuck one of his hands from within the folds of fur that he had wrapped himself in in order to turn another page. He did so carefully and precisely, presumably to preserve the pages in case they had frozen or been damaged with the snow and the ice that was in the air. He alternated his hands as well. First his left hand would sneak out from the wrappings to turn the pages, before then his right hand would come into the open. I giggled as I was reminded of a rabbit, or a mole poking his head out of a burrow before deciding that it was far too cold to emerge properly and thus retreating to their burrow.

He had given up on the idea of writing. Like mine, his ink had frozen making the work impossible. I suppose there was the possibility of charcoal to be used as writing implements but the possibility of tearing or otherwise damaging the paper would have been too high for my comfort as well as, presumably, Helfdan's comfort.

"Lord Helfdan." I greeted him as I brought him his bowl.

"Lord Frederick." He carefully replaced his leather book mark and closed the book before tucking it into the oilskin pouch that he had at his side almost permanently now. All this before he accepted the bowl of food from my hand, wrapping his own hands round the bowl for the added warmth. "How are you holding up?" He asked politely.

"I must admit, that I am surprised by the climate for the time of year." I told him. A few of the nearby men chuckled, appreciating the dry humour. I had pitched my voice to carry as though I was playing to an audience.

"It is much colder than we would normally expect it to be." Helfdan admitted. "But at the same time, it is bracing. But you did not come over here to talk to me about the weather."

"I did not."

He scooped a portion of his mutton stew into his mouth. "Then how can I help you, Scribbler?"

"Well," I began. "It is now several days since we left the coast of Undvik and it struck me that we have not had a decent tale told round the camp fire in all that time." There was some rumblings of agreement from the listening people. "So I was wondering if you would grace us with a story?"

Helfdan shook his head. "I am not much of a one for telling stories." Then he played straight into my hands. "I much prefer the truth of history. I struggle with the dramatic embellishments that a tale-teller, bard or Skald add into the real events. What actually happened is interesting enough."

"I couldn't agree more." I told him to some more laughter from the remaining crew. "As it was a matter of history that I wanted to ask about anyway."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I know that the subject is taboo. I know that there is a lot of history between your two peoples. So I want to know that history as it is outside my experience. What is the history between your people and the Fomori. The Vodyanoi as I would call them."

He considered this. "Thorvald is far more knowledgable about this subject than I am."

"I am at that." Thorvald called out. "But the Scribbler asked for the history of the thing rather than the tales that I know. I would tell stories of the heroism of Hemdall and his children." Thorvald made his voice a mocking exaggeration of the grand, tale-telling voice that he would normally spin his yarns with. "I would tell of the love between the God-King and the Goddess and about how their love bred a strength into their children so that the Fomori could be cast aside. So that the Fomori could be thrown aside and that their ruin could shatter the cliff-sides." His voice returned to normal. "The Scribbler wants to know what actually happened."

"Also," Svein spoke up. "He is not wrong. We have not had a tale out of you yet. My Lord." He bowed with a flowery, over the top imitation of a continental courtly salute.

Helfdan's eyebrow rose as he watched this. "I also note that we have not had a story out of you yet Svein."

"Not so. I told the Scribbler about my history with you and why I gave my oath to you." Svein grinned happily. "I have fulfilled my debt as host."

I wondered if I was imagining the calculating look in Svein's eyes. I thought that it was possible that he was goading Helfdan in some way but I couldn't guess as to what the motivation for that could be at the time.

Now, I suppose that a factual account of how the Fomori were expelled from the islands would be a reminder to the crew that the Fomori could be beaten. That they were not some hidden terror that lurked in the shadows, but rather, they were flesh and blood creatures that could be defeated in battle.

"Besides." I added. "I have heard the legends before from my time in Kaer Trolde. But the history of what actually happened? That is still a mystery to me."

Helfdan looked around the faces that reflected the firelight. Then he looked at the sky and looked at the sail of the Wave-Serpent. All this before he wolfed down the remaining food in his bowl.

"Very well." He said, wiping his chin on his sleeve.

We know, due to the work of the Arch-Druid Gildas, that this part of the world used to be much colder than it is now. It was so cold in these waters that a man could walk around the islands without getting his feet wet in much more than snow and ice. He would not need to swim even though the cold would have been so intense that to go for a swim would have resulted in the man's almost instant death.

At the time, there were two powers in this realm. Those that lived above the ice and those that lived below.

The Giants and the Vodyanoi respectively. And they hated each other. It was as simple a matter as them both having things that the other wanted. The Vodyanoi had access to the oceans and therefore all the food that was found in the oceans. The cold meant that farming was impossible for the giants and they were unable to build ships to sail because the wood that that would require would not grow and even if it did, the Fomori would simply sink the ship in turn.

But the Fomori hated the Giants in turn for everything that they had that the Fomori did not. The giants had access to the iron, the stone and the metals that are still part of the islands today. No-one knows why they didn't come to some kind of trade deal. There are no records from either race for us to consult and no-one who was around back then still survives to be able to tell us.

It was not a war as we would understand it. There were few battlefields as such, just a long, slow series of skirmishes. One of the few things that we know about the Fomori is that they are cold blooded, so coming to the surface back then would have been intensely harmful to them. They needed the...uh...comparative warmth of the deeper parts of the sea. We would still find it freezing cold and utterly against our abilities to survive. But apparently there are degrees of deadly.

So the Fomori would form raiding parties to attack the strongholds of the giants. The Giants would go to the shores to fish, or dig through the ice to do the same. All the while knowing that they were simply opening up new ways for the Fomorian warriors to attack their holdings as they drilled their fishing holes.

We also know that there was one exception to this pattern. One difference to this normal kind of status of things and that was the battle of Mag Itha which took place on the western Shores of Ard Skellig. Roughly speaking where Clan Drummond used to have it's major harbour. You can't find any signs of it now. Historians, treasure hunters and archaeologists of all kinds, including magical ones have trawled over the field of battle looking for remnants of what had happened. We even know that the Fomori won that battle. Their technological superiority prevailed over the relative barbarism and individuality of the giants and the giants fell back and a Fomori colony was made on the shore.

We also know that this colony failed and we don't know why. It's possible that the cold was just too extreme for the Fomori to survive and so they retreated. It's also possible that the strain of living above the water was too difficult and that the machines that they use to survive on land could not support them during that time. It's just as likely that the Giants reformed and drove them away. Or that Giant attacks rendered the colony unsustainable and that the Fomori simply retreated.

All of these things are possible and there is no way of knowing for certain what happened.

We do know that the next events to take over the land was that the world started to get warmer and the ice that had covered the islands started to melt.

With the rising temperatures, the Giants began to lose their domination of the islands. Gradually their strength became diminished and they fell back and fell back into the coldest areas of the islands. They went up mountains and into caves, surviving on the tundra. There is even a suggestion that this "thawing" is what precipitated the giants descent into barbarism but that is impossible to prove. It is entirely possible that this thawing was precipitated by the Conjunction of the Spheres in some way. Either the one that brought the humans to this place or the one before that. There is no way of knowing.

But the thaw brought other visitors to the island. Led by a figure called Nemedd.

(Freddie: It was pronounced Nemeth. The pronunciation suggests that the origins of the name are Elven in nature)

It is generally believed that Nemedd was an Elf or a Half-Elf. Certainly he counted Elves and humans in his followers. We know this because those Elven ruins that are still here date back to this time and that the humans were left behind after the departure of the Elves.

The retreat of the giants with the retreating snow line had made it easier for the Fomori to pillage and plunder so that when Nemedd landed, he found a group of islands ruled by the Fomori. No-one knows for sure who started the war between the two groups, the followers of Nemedd or the Fomori. Skelligan tradition would have us believe that the Fomori simply attacked out of hand and that would certainly fit with the characteristics of the Fomori race at that time.

The counter to that argument is that Nemedd and his people must have come to the islands by boat or magic. If it was magic then fair enough. But if it was boat, then why did they survive to make it to the islands in the first place? Especially if the Fomori were going to object to their presence.

So God-King Nemedd fought against the Fomori and defeated them in a series of battles. We know that at least two of these battles took place on Ard Skellig, one on Undvik and another on Spikeroog. Again, because historians have found evidence that this was the case. No sooner did the Fomori raise a chieftain or warlord up against Nemedd and his people, than he was destroyed in battle. How many battles there were is unclear but we know that the victories were as decisive as victories can get.

Nemedd ruled over the Skelligan isles for a period of nninty-nine years before he died, thus proving his Elven heritage. The official writings in the Elven ruins that record these events say that he died of a plague that wiped out a significant chunk of his people. It was this event that finally drove the Elves from the islands. Since then, many people have wondered if there was something else going on with the death of Nemedd and so many of his people. We know that the Elves are more resistant to diseases than Humans are and yet this particular plague seems to have targeted the Elves directly leaving the humans relatively free.

Less charitable people suggest that the humans were resentful of Nemedd for some reason and poisoned him and his people. This seems a little foolish to me. Nemedd had proven ability to rule and to hold off the enemy invaders and so why would the Humans wish to overthrow their closest allies. There are many suggestions that present themselves however. The first is that the Elves flaunted their superiority and that they lorded and elevated themselves over and above the humans. This is not outside of the realms of possibility as Elves are known to be arrogant in certain areas. If is also possible that certain factions within the humans decided that they wanted to be self-governing and decided that Nemedd was the obstacle in their way preventing this.

There is also the very real possibility that the humans involved were simply too stupid to see that this would significantly reduce their personal safety. Just as arrogance can be a defining trait of the Elves, so can stupidity be considered a defining trait of Humanity.

A trait that we have not yet been able to remove from our general personality.

There might even have been factions within the Elves that came here. We know from the stories and sagas of the bard that there has been infighting within the various factions of the Elves since before the dawn of our recorded history.

But there is no way to tell.

Instead I prefer the much more likely possibility that the Fomorians, who know more about water and liquids than we could ever even hope to be able to understand, were able to engineer a poison that targeted Elves. So that every time that an Elf took a drink of water, they were, in fact, killing themselves. This would seem much more likely to me. Especially given the relatively short time period between Nemedd landing and his eventual death. I would like to think that even human stupidity and Elven Arrogance would take longer than a few years to come to fruition enough to cause treachery and murder.

So the Elves died or fled and the humans remained to face a new offensive from the Fomori. As led by Coannand and Morc. Two great warriors and generals of the Fomori people. The two of them soundly trounced the human forces and we found ourselves all but enslaved We were forced to give food and metals to the conquerors. We were organised into work camps and any time it looked as though our population would grow to a size that might cause the Fomori any problems, there was a cull for the purposes of "our health and the sustainability of life on the islands."

There was a rebellion of course. Legend tells of humanity raising a huge army of well over sixty-thousand men. I have little doubt that this number was something of an exaggeration as I struggle to think of a place on all of the islands where sixty-thousand people could stand in one place. Let alone, then have a battle against enough of a force to defeat them. Because, as I say, the forces of humanity were soundly trounced.

These ancient Skelligans spent many centuries under the heel of the oppressors. As I say, the Fomori couldn't maintain too much of a presence above ground due to their inability to breath the air. Instead, they used Humanities factional bent against us.

The Fomori installed a client king above us and gave him rule over the islands. All he had to do was to maintain the payments of the tributes. He had to send the proper amount of slaves to the mines which had to happen as well as the production of the proper amount of ore and stone. But in return for that, the King and his family and friends got to live in relative comfort.

Our Sagas and culture are unkind to these men and for good reason. But I find that I am, at least, a little sympathetic to what they were trying to do. We were a conquered people. There was absolutely nothing stopping them from simply rolling over us and destroying us utterly.

(I looked over at Ciri during this particular piece of the history. I struggle to define what Helfdan was saying as a tale. But I looked over at Ciri and wondered if anything that Helfdan was saying hit home with her. She was a monarch of a conquering people so I wondered how she felt about some of that. She was certainly wearing her serious face and I could see an echo of the Empress about her in the way that she watched Helfdan so intensely. I don't think that she saw me looking though. I hope that she didn't.)

It is easy for me to imagine that some of those men and women, because yes, some of those monarchs were women. But it is easy for me to imagine that they thought they were doing the best thing for their people. They possibly even thought that in performing their duties, they were preventing the Fomorians from wiping our people out. Some of them probably even did their best to alleviate the worst depredations of the Fomori and did their best to stand between the Fomori anger and the people that they "ruled".

But I also think that there were just as many of those Kings and Queens that did the things they did because they enjoyed the power that it gave them. That they enjoyed the superiority of being able to bully their people and lord it over them. To live in comfort while others toiled away in the darkness.

Many of these client monarchs are forgotten to history now. The only thing that we kept hold of from back then is that the Fomori gave us the freedom to elect our chosen oppressor. It is this fact that allows me to believe that there must have been some genuinely good people who were elected to the position of ruler.

Because sooner or later, a person can stand up and make a case for how they are a better person than the last person to hold the crown and that they will do much better for the people than their predecessor did. Popular movements are a thing and I can easily imagine that they were still a popular movement back then, just as there are today.

But it's just as likely that there were bullys back then and that bullys attracted their like and bullied people to vote for them with empty promises and false hope.

As I say though, many of those names are now lost to us. Because we also took our tradition from not reading or writing from this time. The reason being that if we wrote anything down, as the Elves had taught us to do, then the Fomorian puppets would be able to read our plans for rebellion. So it became more expedient and necessary for our survival to keep things hidden and secret. To keep things from being written down so that they couldn't be used against us.

But there is one name that we remember from back there and back then. And it was the name of the final puppet King of Skellige. His name was Bres the Beautiful.

(Despite his assertions to the contrary, Helfdan did indeed have certain abilities that were part of the storyteller's craft. That being that he knew how to present his principle villain. The assembly literally hissed in hatred as the name was spoken aloud and Helfdan had enough instinct to let them boo and hiss until they were done. He was not telling a story. He was recounting a history. But we were rapt with attention, the same way that we had been rapt when Ivar had also stood before a fire and recounted the past events. Or Torvald had told his ghost story.)

For beautiful he was. There is a story, probably apocryphal that suggests that his method of ascending to the throne was to seduce the women, and some men, into voting for him in return for his favours and promises of future lives of luxury in his harem. I never liked that story. I much preferred to think that he certainly tried to affect the outcome of the election in such a way but that the people did not fall for it. That they were too clever, that the only people that fell for it were the people who would have fallen for any gambit.

He was called the beautiful, and in his youth, he probably was. He was probably beautiful and charming and witty and persuasive. But he was also a glutton and a hedonist. We know that he gathered much of the food of the islands to himself and would eat and drink himself into a stupor. He attracted men and women, of course, who felt the same way and a famine swept the land as all of the best food was taken by King Bres both for his own table as well as to be given to the Fomorians.

It was this famine that finally caused the people of Skellige to rise up in rebellion.

Now do not think that we hadn't been fighting before that. We had. There was an ongoing guerilla war being fought all the time. Supplies were burned, fomori and collaborator forces were attacked and killed. There is no denying that there were dark deeds committed which we justified to ourselves by declaring those people murdered as being "non-people" and therefore impossible to murder. To those early fighters, killing a collaborator was like chopping wood. Whether that collaborator was a man, woman or even a child or old person who collaborated because they needed food or medicine.

It was a dark time, there is no getting away from that. Like any civil war where brother fights brother, there were crimes committed on both sides. Those dark deeds are almost certainly the reason that we didn't throw off the yoke of the oppression sooner. The freedom fighters were so uncompromising that there was no room for people to have half measures. A regular test for a new freedom fighter was to kill or otherwise abuse a friend or family member who was being seen to work for, or with, the enemy. So it was not hard for what passed for the propaganda of the time to portray the "freedom fighters" as being villains.

Why didn't they succeed? Because they were made up of lots of small bands. Often young men and women. Sixteen years old to their early twenties, thinking themselves heroes they threw themselves against the greater whole. They would often fight each other before they would fight an enemy in an effort to become larger or to become famous.

But in the end there was a hero who rose. In the wake of the famine of Bres the Beautiful, a man did rise up and unite the people of Skellige and he was the one who began many of our greatest traditions and it was he that formed the basis of our society.

His name was Hemdall.

I'm not going to get into the debate about whether or not Hemdall was a man or whether or not he was a God. The Scribbler wanted a history of our interactions with the Vodyanoi and I'm not entirely sure that Hemdall's divinity or lack of it is relevant under those particular circumstances. We know that he had six children that went on to found the first six major clans and that their descendants are very, very mortal in nature. Given to all the flaws and vices that are inherent in our race.

We also know that there are various supernatural phenomenon that occur when his name is invoked. He and his wife Heulyn are both represented in many visions and spirit quests and I am not in a place as to answer whether or not one version of the story is accurate and the other is not. That would take a lot of work at the hands of greater scholars than me.

I can tell you that I don't necessary see the two things as necessarily being mutually exclusive. I will also state that I prefer the idea that Hemdall was, at least, born human. That means that his undeniable accomplishments were the result of hard work, courage, determination and all of the virtues that humanity can possess. I prefer that idea to the proposition that his virtues and benefits are the result of any potential divinity, either from himself or his wife.

We also know that the dead go on to the halls of Valhalla, especially when they die on the field of battle with a weapon in their hands. But the Goddess is known to choose her favourites and take them to her own hall. If Hemdall was a man I prefer the idea that Freya took notice of his accomplishments and elevated him in some way. There is plenty of evidence for this as well given the accounts of many of his deeds.

But it seems that I have ended up discussing Hemdall's potential divinity after all. I am not entirely pleased with this as it's not really important to what happened.

Bres the Beautiful was a hedonist. This is known. The story goes that Hemdall was marrying the love of his life, his childhood sweetheart Heulyn when Bres, who was jealous of the love that Heulyn showed Hemdall, decided that he was going to interfere in the wedding. He demanded that Hemdall would go off to the mines to work himself to death, confiscated the wedding feast and demanded his right as Lord, that Heulyn would share her bed with him.

Heulyn resisted of course and was able to use her wit and courage to continue to string Bres along while also taking every opportunity to undermine his rule and weaken his resolve.

Meanwhile, Hemdall worked in the mines until minions of Bres who were seeking the favour of the King, tried to have Hemdall killed in what they would attempt to label a mining accident. Unfortunately for them, Heulyn had sent word to Hemdall that this plot was going to take place so that when the ambush happened, Hemdall was waiting for them.

Then, as the legends say, his wrath was terrible. In the first recorded account of a berzerker, the Warp-Spasm came upon Hemdall and he turned the cave into a red ruin while his enemies fought with each other in an effort to flee.

Covered in blood, standing over the broken bodies of his attackers, holding a sword in one hand and the broken pick-axe that he had been using to hack the iron out of the rock-slide. Hemdall looked out at the rest of the mine. He was tired, breathing heavily and his hair hung around his face. Then he said the words that caused a nation to rise. "This cannot be borne."

As The Scribbler can tell you. When there are many different accounts of an event or a series of events. One of the ways that you can tell whether or not something actually happened is from those places where the accounts of those times match up and agree. This is one of the few tales regarding Hemdall that all accounts agree on. There are men and women, to this day, who have those words inked into their skin. Especially when setting out on blood feuds and quests of vengeance.

What happened after this starts to vary again. Many accounts say that the guards fled in fear from Hemdall and his wrath which meant that Hemdall was able to hide in the caves and the woods while the King sent his soldiers after him. Others still argue that the miners rose up in order to support Hemdall in his attack and took the fight to the many many guards and soldiers that were still watching the mine. Then there are all the accounts that are somewhere in between. The ones where the miners rioted so that Hemdall's closest followers could get the wounded and exhausted man to safety. While others contain the premise that Hemdall wanted to continue the fight and take the battle to the guards, such was his rage, but his followers, seeing that he would get overrun and killed, carried him from the field to safety.

There is no way to tell which is true. But what we do know is that the rebellion started around this event. There are many stories about this. Stories about how Heulyn refused rescue and continued to feed information to the rebellion. Stories about the daring rescue of Heulyn. The many raids on the supplies of the Fomori and the followers of King Bres. Also tales about how Hemdall defeated some of the more destructive rebellion leaders and stopped their own depredations.

What is known is that Hemdall did unite the various splinter forces into a single and cohesive whole and step by step, village by village and mine by mine. He liberated the islands from their oppressors. We also know that he did, eventually rescue his wife and that there was much rejoicing.

So why did Hemdall succeed where others had failed? I don't think that there is that much to it in all honesty. We are Skelligan and if we have one great strength, it is also our greatest weakness. We love a good story and it was just as true then as it is now. Hemdall was the perfect downtrodden hero. Cut off from the woman he loved. Kept down and beaten up and then he began to fight back. To make matters even better on his behalf it turns out that he was a man of honour. He didn't kill prisoners, he didn't torture people for information. He treated his captives as well as could be expected and yes, he did put them to work which is where the tradition of Thralldom comes from. But otherwise, he was a good and honourable man fighting in a good and honourable way.

Naturally, King Bres was furious and every time that Hemdall found a way to rise above everything and be a proper and decent human being, Bres was forced to descend to new lows. He intimidated, tortured, threatened and bullied his people in an effort to prevent Hemdall's forces from expanding. Naturally, all he really did was to drive more and more people into Hemdall's ranks.

The Fomori were not pleased and held Bres to an accounting. For the first time since the subjugation of the descendants of Nemedd, the Fomori rose in anger to attack the forces of Hemdall.

So it was that the first battle of Mag Tuired was fought.

No, I don't know where Mag Tuired is or what it means either. I suspect it is some lost form of language which is meant to be about the battle for freedom or the throwing off of shackles and the destruction of certain constructs. I don't know. What we do know is that the battle was fought for a long time. Probably, over several days at least and the forces on both sides were decimated.

We're pretty sure that this battle was fought on Ard Skellig, or certainly the climax of the battle was fought on Ard Skellig. Some people have argued that what we think of as a battle was actually a war with a series of running skirmishes, ambushes and smaller battles fought on all of the parts of the Isles. I can't answer for that. What we do know is that the battle was... mostly inconclusive and hugely destructive.

In the end, the Fomorian King, named Balor who had risen from the depths to oversee the final destruction of Hemdall was forced to make some concessions. It is generally thought that he had been led to believe that the rebellion was relatively small, as such things often were at the time and he had been taken aback by the ferocity of Hemdall's forces.

But regardless. King Balor met with Hemdall and offered that Hemdall replace King Bress as the client King of Skellige on the Fomorian behalf. Hemdall refused. Hemdall demanded that Balor and his people leave the islands and never return. Balor refused.

In the end, Hemdall and his people were allowed to retire. The catastrophic losses that those forces had suffered meant that they were unable to hold onto what they had anyway. The Fomorians agreed that the island that we now call "An Skellig" would be given to Hemdall who was now being called "God-King" by his followers and that neither Hemdall or his followers would be setting foot on any of the other islands which would continue to be ruled by Bress and the Fomorians.

Hemdall was not a stupid man. He knew that this phase of the war had gotten to the point where he could not win a protracted war. That his numbers were dwindling through the attrition and that his resources were limited. He knew that, although technically, his people held the most territory, that his lines were spread too thin and that it couldn't possibly hold against a concentrated attack. So he agreed.

Hemdall and Heulyn went to An Skellig with their surviving people and somewhere between twenty to thirty years passed. The pair had at least six children and Hemdall's orders were sincere. That his people should live like they have never lived before. The issue wasn't decided and they all knew that the matter wasn't decided. That the war would have to be taken up again at a later date. So his people needed to have children, lots of children while taking the time to train and gather resources.

It is also true that there was a lot of room to move in these negotiated terms. The treaty said nothing about accepting fugitives that fled to An Skellig. Nor did it say anything about those same fugitives returning to the other islands in order to gather more followers.

But then. As was inevitable. After enough time for his six sons to grow into strong men capable of waging the war, Hemdall committed his first and only dishonourable act. He broke his word to King Balor. Such a fleet had never been assembled as the warriors of the God-King climbed aboard and sailed back to Ard Skellig.

The Fomori saw them coming. They had to. It is inconceivable that the flow of information only went one way. There was certainly a force waiting for the forces of Hemdall on the beach. But Hemdall landed anyway.

Then, after all the warriors had disembarked, they turned and burned their ships behind them. Thus telling the gathered forces that there would be no going back and that the final battle was about to begin.

Which was how the second battle of Mag Tuired began.

There are so many varied tales of this event that it is impossible to separate fact from fiction in this case. There are many stories about warriors being there that are provably born much later than during these events. Or from long before these events.

There is one story told which I don't believe although I wish it were true. That the warriors of Hemdall tied huge boulders to their backs making it impossible for them to retreat. So that every step forward was bought in pain and blood and that the Fomorian forces fell back before the righteous rage and anger of the men of Skellige.

As I say, I don't believe it. Fighting requires movement and the ability to change position, even when fighting in a shieldwall so sacrificing that mobility would be the last thing that we needed to happen. It is far more likely that this is an extension of the burning of the ships in that it displayed the determination and cold fury of the returning men against the Fomorian forces.

But I wish it was true nonetheless. One of the few places where I prefer the story to the facts.

Unfortunately, for those of us that like the history of the thing rather than the myth. There is relatively little information about the battle for us to know. Plenty of stories yes but few actual facts. We can guess that the forces of Hemdall landed on the eastern shores of Ard Skellig but even that we can't know for certain. Burnt out remains of ships are not uncommon and the elements are never kind to such remains. So I'm afraid I can't give you the proper account of what happened on that most bloody of days.

The long and short of it was that we won. We threw King Balor into the sea along with the rest of the Fomorians while exiling King Bres and his hired mercenaries back to Cidaris which is why they hate us and attack us at every opportunity. While we hate them and attack them at every opportunity for the same reason.

Hemdall vanished from history then and we do not know what happened to him. The myth and legend says that he found King Balor on the field of battle and slew him in single combat before the Valkyr, so impressed were they with his deeds that they elevated him to Godhood where he guards the rainbow bridge to this day, against the coming of Ragh na roog.

But the truth is probably, and uncomfortably, much more simple than that. He will have been an old man by this point. Certainly old for his time when any man who reached the age of forty was considered so doggedly ancient that people would regularly consider whether they were magical in some way. So it's possible that he died. Possibly before his children re-invaded Ard Skellig although we know that that was always his intention. He might have died during the crossing or he might have died during the battle. What is certain is that there is no record of what he got up to during the aftermath of the battle.

Sometimes, I find that I can be a romantic. It is just as likely, even possible, that he was in-enamoured with the life of a spiritual and literal hero and ruler. He was the first High King of Skellige but I like to think that after defeating his enemies he decided to retire from his life of combat and rulership. That he went with his wife, who has also achieved a semi-status of divinity, into the hills and lived out the rest of their lives in peace and harmony.

That is not the end of the story. This is history after all, rather than a saga or a poem. History has no beginning or ending that can easily be wrapped up and tied into a bow for easy consumption. Although we had defeated our enemies and driven the Fomori from our shores, that was not the ending of the wars of the children of Hemdall.

They had a couple of years where they fought of the raids of the Fomori who would sneak ashore in order to raid for the goods and things that they had been delivered as tribute before. But then we were subject to the invasion of the Cidarians. King Bres, as it turns out, was not a happy man in exile. He had been used to living the good life and so he returned at the head of a Cidarian fleet. Having reached a similar arrangement with the Cidarian king as he had maintained with King Balor of the Fomorians he was unable to give up that good life.

So he returned and easily managed to invade and conquer a lessened and war-weary Skelligans. But now we were Skelligans who had learned how to fight and how to win. So fight we did and over the years, we drove them off. Then they would re-invade and we would drive them off and for a while that cycle continued.

It became clear that we would need to guard all of the islands to prevent foreign powers, whether Fomorian or continental, from establishing a foothold in our lands. So The sons of Hemdall, and probably by now the Grandsons of Hemdall, founded the clan system and the origins of the first six main clans. Clans An Craite, Tuirseach, Dimun, Drummond, Brokvar and Heymaey. One per major island in order to guard it and prevent others from invading.

(Freddie's note: Yes, I know that this misses out clan Tordarroch. I did ask about that and it would seem that originally, the now defunct Clan Drummond were set to guard Undvik. But at some point later, they decided that they hated their rivals of the An Craite Clan who had more prosperous lands, better harbour and more prestige and so they re-settled in the South-Western parts of Ard Skellig. Clan Tordarroch were those people that they left behind.

Depending on who you speak to, this is either because they wanted to honour the ancient agreement that they would guard Undvik against invaders. That or Clan Drummond left them behind, presuming them to be weak and worthless. That Clan Tordarroch managed to turn this into a strength and became the foremost weapon and armour smiths in the islands is testament to how wrong Clan Drummond were.

There is another note here. The Jarls of the great clans act as advisors to the monarch. These are also the lords that elect the new monarch. Sometimes this means that the council of Jarls is split. So someone, at some stage, decided that there needed to be an odd number of Jarls to avoid this kind of situation. Thus a new great clan was born to lift the number to seven. I would advise, however, not to tell any members of Clan Tordarroch that they were made a great clan just to make up the numbers. You may not survive the experience)

So that, Scribbler, is why we are so afraid of the Vodyanoi. They were and are, our ancient conquerors. They defeated us and beat us and it took us lifetimes and more blood than we are entirely comfortable with to throw them from our shores. It is true that our history is written by the early invasions into our territory. But the Vodyanoi, the Fomori as we call them, were the first and by far the most brutal.

It took us another two days after this remarkable account of ancient Skelligan history before we got to the place where we needed to go. I don't know whether or not I was getting used to the cold or whether or not it was actually getting warmer. We were behind the Skeleton Ship now, we could tell because there was more ice floating in the bay. It was not far in front though and Helfdan warned that it could just as easily turn and start sailing back towards us with all of the horror, cold and rage that it possessed.

Let me say now and before witnesses. Helfdan is a genius. How he knew that we were in the right place is something that I could not have told you. He did not navigate by the sun as the could cover and freezing fog made that impossible. Nor did he navigate by the stars for the same reason. We were in a chain of smaller, uninhabited islands to the north of Ard Skellig itself but even those landmarks were obscured by the fog and the cold.

But he positioned us in the water with a precision that was uncanny and I had been there when the Priestesses of Freya had told us that precision in this matter was vital. He didn't even look up from the tiller. The air was still and there was no wind to stir the sail or the waves on the water. He just turned his head ever so slightly.

Just like a dog does.

I don't even think he opened his eyes as he was doing it.

The rest of us just stood and watched him. The Priestesses of Freya had told us to be precise, that the offering would need to be made at the specific place in order for the message to be properly received. So Helfdan maneouvered. A touch this way, an inch that way. Almost using the tiller as an oar. Occasionally gesturing for small movements from one of the oarsmen.

It was fascinating to watch.

It also had another one of those side effects that made me think that Helfdan is either some kind of extreme genius, or that he is just really really lucky. Because what remained of the crew was hanging off every gesture and every movement of their Captain, it meant that they didn't have time to worry about what was going to happen when he was finally happy with what was going to happen next.

The Helfdan equivalent of keeping people busy to stop them worrying.

He brought it to a halt by kind of nodding to himself and stepping to the side of the ship with Kerrass and I moved with them. Svein and Ciri joined us while the rest of the men stayed at their oars. Ready to help us to leave at a moment's notice. One hand on the oars, another on their weapons. Perrin was at the prow, having wedged himself just below the figurehead of the ship. One arrow already nocked to his bow with another three in his hand. I had seen Perrin training and I knew that he could have all of those arrows shot in less time than it took me to write those words. As I think I've said before. Rickard would disapprove of the technique but it was effective for the closer quarters of combat that the Skelligans prefer.

"Right then." Helfdan spoke almost to himself. "What was it the Priestess said? Flame, Iron and Blood?"

"It was." Svein told him. "In that order." He was no more fooled than I was. Helfdan knew exactly what the Priestess had said, but was saying it aloud for others to hear.

Helfdan nodded as Svein spoke. "Witcher, would you mind?"

Kerrass nodded and gestured. A shower of sparks flew from his hand into the water. Which hissed where the sparks hit and a steam rose.

"Iron next." Helfdan commented.

"I don't suppose she said how much Iron." I wondered aloud. More for something to say and to feel as though I was adding to proceedings than anything.

Helfdan shrugged and went into the bowls of the ship, pulling one of the huge and ungainly ice cutting axes out of the sack. There was no way that such a thing could be used in battle but I could not help but think of the horror that the blade would make of a body. Helfdan heaved it into the water where it sank quickly. It was only my imagination that made the Wave-Serpent seem to sit on the water a little lighter.

"Which leaves blood." I said drawing my dagger and stepping forward. Helfdan held me back with a smile though. "I should... you have already shed enough blood in my cause." I protested. "I should do, at least this."

Helfdan smiled a little as he stared at my chest. Svein looked away while I did not look at Kerrass or Ciri.

"Ah Scribbler." Helfdan said after a moment. "It is no longer your cause." He clapped me on the shoulder. "It is our cause. The very blood that you talk about makes it so."

"Besides." He went on. "You would probably do something foolishly poetic like cut your palm for the blood. You will need that gripping strength should we need to fight or row for our lives."

Svein turned back and he had produced a wineskin from somewhere. "And we were prepared for this." He upended the skin, it looked like a pig's bladder, and poured a thick, dark red liquid into the water.

I suddenly found the funny side and laughed. "It doesn't matter what kind of blood it was does it."

"No." Svein smirked. "It symbolises the old agreements. Flame for fuel, iron for the ore that we used to give them, and blood for the food. It's actually supposed to be a pig or a cow's blood." He squeezed the last of the goop into the water before tossing the skin in after it. "You'd be surprised how often that is the case. And how often people in stories just assumed that people were talking about human sacrifice when anything would have done."

Ciri chuckled and there was a notable lessening of tension in the crew as people shared the joke. We were still hushed though. As though the fog was a blanket that we had used to muffle the world.

"How long will we have to wait?" Kerrass wondered.

Helfdan shook himself. Like a Cat that has just been startled from a nap. "Not long I should think." He replied, pointing at a patch of the sea that was beginning to bubble.

It took a long time for the Vodyanoi to make their presence felt. A very long time, despite Helfdan's words. They climbed to the surface slowly but when they did get here, they burst out of the water quickly.

The first things that we saw were three heads in a triangle, almost standing back to back. Golden helmets broke the surface with metal fins on their heads, red circular glass holes in the place of eyes before, in turn giving way to the rest of the mask which betrayed a slightly elongated snout with two bulbous metal protrusions on the end of it that were made out of a different coloured metal than the rest of the Golden Helmet.

The next thing we saw was the weapons. Led by the arrow points, the three Vodyanoi were carrying huge crossbows. They seemed to be made entirely out of a similar kind of metal that the helmets were made out of, that same kind of reddish gold. Even the "string" of the crossbow was obviously twisted wire that glistened with water.

The point of the bolt, which was longer and wider than a standard, cloth yard arrow, was barbed with one edge rather than the double edged head that they use in Redania and Temeria. I shivered at the thought of what one of those things would do should they strike flesh. I had been doing a lot of that type of shivering recently.

The bows were carried by hugely muscled arms that were covered in scales in much the same way that a fish is scaled. Forcing me to assume...

and everyone knows how much I hate assuming,

…. that their arms were bare. Their hands had three fingers and a thumb with considerable webbing between the digits. They moved the crossbows easily.

Their arms might have been bare but the rest of their bodies were also armoured with an all encompassing chest and back plate that left room for the shoulders and arms to come out the side. I thought that this might have been something to do with the need to keep their limbs free in order to move underwater. Each of them had on a large backpack of some kind. Strange piping connected the backpack to the mask, coming over the back and round the neck made from the reddish gold again. Or rather segments of it that seemed to fit together in a way that allowed the pipes to be flexible when the Vodyanoi wanted to turn their heads.

When they reached the surface, they were facing in three directions with their backs to each other before they realised that we were alone and turned to face us, with little apparent effort.

When they did climb out of the water, it turned out that their legs were also heavily muscled, ending in feet with three clawed toes with, again, webbing between them.

They lifted their crossbows to point at us and waited. Perrin had raised his bow slightly and Svein had moved nonchalantly next to Helfdan with his large shield on his arm. It did not escape my notice that even though Ciri was showing no signs of concern, She had still been pushed slightly, but gently behind The big shield as well.

So we waited. Trying to sense some kind of meaning, or a motive behind the helmets of the three swimmers.

But there were more bubbles coming to the surface. As it turned out, this signified the rumour of another dozen people that I thought of as guards. They were carrying spears with the same, double barb as part of their point and their shields were broad. They moved to position themselves in front of the archers who were also joined by more of their fellows.

Helfdan turned to the other men on the ship and held out his hand to quieten the slow but steady rumbles of discontent that were going through the remaining crew.

Then we waited again. The Wave-Serpent gently moving in the water with every shift of weight of the crew. Helfdan stood and stared out over the water impassively as we spent a bit more time waiting. I have no idea how long for. Easily long enough for some food to be passed around.

Then there was another set of bubbles that came from behind the Vodyanoi soldiers and two more figures swam to the surface.

It was impossible to tell gender, but one was smaller than the other. He, because he turned out to be a male, was much smaller proportioned than the warriors that we had seen so far. Instead of the armour and helmets that the others had worn he wore a simple robe of dark, sea green. He did have a mask on, same as the others but rather than it being part of an overall helm, it was a smaller thing that fitted over the snout of him, leaving his mouth clear for use. He had on a torque of the same coloured metal that the armour seemed to be made out of. He carried a box in his arms.

But we were not really looking at him. He was hiding behind the other that came with him. Where the warriors seemed tall and heavily muscled, this Vodyanoi was tall and slender and moved with a grace that was beguiling to watch. He wore a robe, very similar in shade to the one that his fellow wore but it was plainly much more ornate, with woven patterns in the cloth. It was voluminous in appearance and I guessed... Sorry, I assumed, that it was designed to be more impressive underwater. He wore a large hat upon his head and like the smaller man, his mask was smaller, coming round what appeared to be their nose.

But instead of a large and bulky pack, his mask seemed to be part of his ornate head-dress. He also wore a golden torque with many other necklaces and bracelets that were made from precious stones, or at least they appeared to be precious from this distance. He carried a large, wide, flat bladed spear. The pole of the spear was easily six foot long with a long, leaf shaped blade at the end. It looked more ceremonial than a weapon of war to me but as Kerrass has proven time after time, a thing doesn't need to be designed as a weapon to become one in the right hands.

The smaller of the two swam forwards easily carrying his burden until he was close to the Wave-Serpent. He opened his mouth to display a large set of sharp fangs and a long tongue.

"It is my distinct and great honour," he began, the shape of his mouth giving his words a strange accent, but he spoke clearly and carefully in order to counter this and it was not difficult to decipher his meaning. " to bring you the greetings of the Priest of the Lady of the seas, Prince Kanrohoodra whom I serve." He gestured to the taller one. "I am his translator and it would be customary to address the Priest himself when talking to him. Please pay me no mind but to hear my words. Please speak as though you are speaking directly to the Priest Prince himself and I will translate your words to him directly."

Helfdan considered this for a moment.

"Then I am Helfdan, Captain of the Wave-Serpent."

I watched carefully in an attempt to try and guess how the translator communicated with his master. I didn't catch a great deal but it seemed to be a series of whistles and clicks. I was reminded of the Yukki-Onna and her reminder that not all communication is verbal. Then I became curious as to how a written and spoken language would have developed under water as this culture must have done given their advanced uses of metallurgy would display.

But that's just how my brain works because I'm a scholar. I was distracted from this train of thought by the translator beginning to speak again.

"We have heard of you... Captain. But you have other titles do you not? We have heard of the Black Boar, Lord Helfdan whom men call Fatherless."

I saw Helfdan's mouth twitch. "I do have those names and titles, you are correct. Although I wonder how you came by them. But we are all given titles by others, including our names. I also expect that you yourself have other names and titles. Princes tend to collect them in my experience."

Ciri's face went carefully blank. The last time I had to write out her entire list of names and titles it took me a solid ten minutes of penmanship.

"Very true," The Vodyanoi answered through his translator. I got the sense of some humour. "But to recount them would be a waste of everyone's time and would be meaningless to you anyway. As I say though, we have heard of you Lord Helfdan. You are known to us to be a human of honour, intelligence and cunning. Men say of you that you do not think like other men but that once given, your word is your bond. You are known never to lie although you are clever when it comes to withholding certain language to obscure the truth."

Helfdan twitched again. "I have had worse things said about me."

"

Your people are known to have a tradition of hospitality. If I come aboard your craft will you guarantee my safety and the safety of my translator?"

"I will." Helfdan did not hesitate. "Although We cannot hold all of your guards. More because we do not have the room to spare."

"Will you accept two of my warriors? I would not bother but they get so twitchy when I stand by myself in the hands of enemies."

The men of the Wave-Serpent laughed at that. Ciri and I exchanged glances though. That comment had been carefully aimed by this Vodyanoi prince.

"My own men have similar issues," Helfdan said with a slight smile. "But please come aboard. This shouting is difficult in such weather."

The priest and his translator swam to the side of the ship along with two of the warriors. They did so quickly with remarkable speed.

"Steady lads." Svein told us. "No posturing. Lets not start another war just yet."

The guards came aboard first. I had wondered if they would stand and start some kind of staredown with one or two of the warriors aboard but they seemed to just climb aboard before steadying the rope that Ursa had provided for the climbing of the others.

I got the feeling that a rope wasn't really needed but they took the gesture as the offer that it was and climbed up nimbly.

The translator came up after the soldiers and held the box in front of him. The Priest came last and stood on the deck, looking around himself with curiosity. He was wearing coloured plates of glass over his eyes now and it became clear what they were for as the translator was blinking furiously.

Helfdan waited with a slight smile.

"I am curious as to several things." He began. "First and most importantly, what should I call you. Prince? Priest? I would call such titles "Your Highness" and "Your Grace" if you were from the continent."

The Priest shifted. He held the spear like a badge of office. "And if I was Skelligan? What would you call me then?"

Helfdan scratched his chin as he thought about this. "We have neither Princes nor priests. We have Jarls, Druids and Priestesses. We call the Queen "Majesty" when we want to annoy her though and for everyone else we call them Lord on formal occasions or a variety of impolite things otherwise. For instance, my men have a tendency to shout "Hey you." When they want me attention in a feasting hall."

Helfdan was testing the Priest. He was trying out the sense of humour. Trying to see how literally they would take it.

"Priest is fine." The Priest eventually decided. "But you had other things that you were curious about."

"Yes. How do you know my name?"

"We know about most things that happen on the water. Especially over seas that we have ruled in the past. The banner of the Black Boar is known to us."

"How would you know such things?"

"The force that you call Magic runs beneath the ocean as well."

"Ah."

There was a pause as the Priest and the Lord took stock of each other.

"So," The priest began. You can take this as a victory on Helfdan's behalf if you like, that the Vodyanoi broke first. "You have summoned us here. Using the ancient compact although I would be surprised if you would want to take up the old agreements again. Nor would we be interested in restarting the war that would surely spring out of such. We are not willing to involve ourselves in dynastic struggles of Landfolk again."

Helfdan did not react to this.

"Do you want to take up the old contract between our people and yours?" The priest prompted.

"I do not know that there was an old contract." Helfdan answered. "Do you refer to the tribute that King Balor of your folk demanded of my ancestors?"

"I do."

"We would not be interested. No. Never again. Not for anyone."

"Good." The priest said precisely. "Our people have moved on since then as well."

The translator was good at suggesting the tone and thinking behind the Priest's words. In this case, the tone that he wanted to convey was that we had just been tested and had passed in some small way.

"So we are summoned," the priest began again. "I judge by the expressions of some of your fellows that you are also not here to swear eternal friendship to us. Nor are you here to start a war as I have yet to be taken captive, nor have we been attacked. So what are we here to do? And, I must also ask, how did you know to come here and do the things that you did?"

"We were given the instructions on how to summon your people by the priestesses of Freya who said that they had some dealings with your people when we weren't all being foolish."

A small break occurred here as the Priest started to hiss, with his tongue hanging out. The translator turned to the lot of us and with an utterly dead-panned voice said "My master is laughing."

"Yes," the priest said finally after his mirth had subsided. "Both our races are given to foolishness aren't we. Your race likes wars over things that will still be here long after you have died and my race fights wars over religions and beings that haven't been seen or heard from in years. Many of whom might even be dead. Some of whom certainly are.

"I can at least show that your Priestesses are telling the truth. I am a follower of the Lady of the water. Your folk call her the Lady of the Lake although that name is rather simplistic as she seems to move between lakes at her whim. And although she seems to prefer inland waterways rather than oceans and rivers, she has used those as well but that is by the by. So that is how they knew of us."

"I was wondering." Helfdan's expression and tone of voice was exactly the same that the translator had used when he had been getting frustrated and annoyed by his master.

"So why did you summon us?"

"I will not lie, you are our final option." Helfdan told the priest. "If you know so much about the ocean then you will know that this one is freezing in advance."

"Yes. The death ship is on the water."

"We call it the Skeleton Ship."

"So I had heard. A little inaccurate a description I thought."

"It sometimes looks like the skeleton of a ship, when it comes through the harbour."

"Ah, when it is losing it's power. Yes."

"You seem to know a lot about it." Helfdan said cautiously.

"I know as much as there is to know. Which is not a lot."

"What can you tell us?"

"Come now. There is much I could tell you. Much and much again. But that would leave us exposed and we do not have a great deal of time as the death ship is turning towards us even now. Possibly even sensing our presence on the surface. Also, how would I know that you weren't trying to use that information for the benefit of your people."

"I am trying to use the information for the benefit of my people."

"Really. How interesting." The priest shook his head although the gesture looked awkward on his body. As though he had affected the movement for our benefit. "Let us stop dancing around each other here Lord Helfdan. What are your intentions towards the Death Ship?"

Helfdan looked at me before his gaze flickered towards Kerrass and on to Ciri. "We seek for a way to destroy it."

There was another pause as the Priest gave his kind of hissing laugh.

"It has been tried before." He said, the translator giving us the scorn of the thing perfectly. "It cannot be done. Good luck with your foolishness." He moved towards the rail and the sea.

"We think we have a way."

"Oh yes. And what way is that."

"The ship is looking for something." Kerrass said. "We think it came here and lost something, or someone. We think it cannot rest or move on with it's journey until that thing is returned to it."

The priest stared at Kerrass for a long time. "You are a Witcher." It was not a question.

"I am."

"A Witcher slew Dagon the unclean whom some call "The Beast"." All of the Vodyanoi made a gesture which I took to be a standard gesture against evil. The Circling of the chest from the south or flame burst over the heart from the north.

"I wouldn't know." Kerrass told him. "It was not me certainly unless I knew it by a different name."

The Priest gave another unnatural looking nod. "And now you seek to destroy the Skeleton Ship?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"I am under contract."

"And there is some kind of rule among Witchers about not discussing contracts."

"Sometimes. Some of our kind use codes in order to properly control their work and their actions. For myself though, I rather think that you have enough information from us. It is your turn to give us something."

I winced at that. Kerrass was possibly being a little too forceful.

"Maybe so. But I notice one thing. You, Witcher, seek to dismiss the ship. But Lord Helfdan is seeking for a way to destroy the ship."

"True." Helfdan stepped forward, past Kerrass I noticed. "The final decision as to what we do with that information lies with the Queen."

"Interesting. Yes, I had heard that you had a Queen now rather than a King." The Priest seemed to muse for a while. If he was human I would have said that he had already decided upon his course of action and was playing for a bit of time. He was making us wait for his own reasons or to exert some kind of authority. The only thing to do in these circumstances is to wait them out and allow them to feel foolish.

"Tell me," he said after a while. "If I help you. Will your Queen use the information to destroy, or otherwise get rid of the Death ship?"

"She might." Helfdan said. "I think that there will be an honest and distinct conversation had. I think that she will summon the Jarls and take advice on the matter. She was talking about doing that even before we left. Let me ask you a question in return. Why would the Skeleton Ship turn back towards us? That would not be a pattern that it follows. It has already sailed through and past these islands. It is not, generally, a thing that doubles back on itself. What relationship do you have with the thing? Why is it coming back?"

"Because you are right." The Priest told us. "It did lose something and it thinks we have it. Why do you think we never came back to the islands? Why did we use human surrogates during our time of rulership. It is because the Death ship would destroy us. It is looking for us.

"We call it the death ship because that is what it means to us. The cold in it freezes our blood. We are already cold-blooded and the cold leaves us being lethargic and slow but the extreme cold that it brings. It is deadly. Under that amount of cold, hearts have been known to stop. My father, the hight priest and King of our people urged me not to come here. He told me not to talk to you on the grounds that I would be endangering my life to do so. Already, I feel the awful lethargy sapping at my spirit and my energy.

"Like you, our world ends in ice and cold. For us, it is the sign of the end times. The final freeze and the death of all when the cold reaches down into the darkest and deepest places of the ocean and the water there, barely above freezing as it is, turns to ice. Our people will be there. Imprisoned forever in our tombs of ice and it will be the Ship of Death that brings us that cold.

"But you don't mean to destroy it do you. You mean to give it what it wants."

"I do." Kerrass admitted.

"What's to stop it from taking what it wants and making itself more powerful?"

"Nothing." Kerrass admitted again. "But the choices are not that broad. The ship is cursed. We know this due to the rage and anger that it feels. A rage so palpable and real that men from far away can feel it. We also know that it comes here from a different world, even a different time. We... I... Think that it just wants to go home. We should let it."

"You also mean to do this don't you. Regardless of what the Queen decides."

"It is a thought that has occurred. I hope that I will not have to as I think that the Queen will see the benefits that would come to her people if the Ship stopped sailing through her islands once every two years or so. The impact on her economy and her people would be enough to her to convince her of the merits of seeing the thing off. It would then be a matter of politics depending on what she decides from there."

"I notice that you have not declared what you will do if she decides to not get rid of the Skeleton Ship."

"I have not because I have not. That is a bridge that I will cross when I come to it."

The Vodyanoi nodded and stared out over the side of the Wave-Serpent again.

"It is a strange fate that leads us to this moment." He said after a while, the translator still translating. "When I think of all the things that have to have happened in order for us to get here and for you to ask me to help. Your defeat of King Balor One-Eye meant that his cult, the cult of the Deep one unchained, lost power and my people, the followers of the Lady were able to take over these waters. We have been looking for a way to make contact with your people again ever since that day. And now, of all things, it is the death ship that brings our two people together."

He chuckled. "As omens go, it is not encouraging."

"As a rule," Helfdan said carefully. "I do not believe in omens."

"You should you know." The Priest said. "Just because you do not believe in fate, superstition or omens, does not mean that they do not believe in you. Do you have the ear of your Queen?" He suddenly asked Helfdan. "Will she listen to your advice?"

"I seem to be asked that a lot lately." Helfdan answered. "She does listen, when she asks. But I am, by no means, inside her inner circle."

"This grieves you." The Priest peered at Helfdan.

"No." Helfdan said. He may even have believed it as he said it although I did not. "No it does not grieve me. I know what my strengths are. On the sea, I stand like a giant and a hero. In the courtroom I have some talent but there are greater than me at the Queen's court and all I could offer would be alternatives that they might not have considered. In all other cases, spiritual, military, logistical, financial, religious, personal, there are better people than I to advise her. And the Queen rarely needs to ask advice as to what she should do at sea."

"I think you are a rare man, Lord Helfdan. You see things the way they are rather than the way you want them to be and the way you think they ought to be. You do have a blind spot however."

"Oh?"

"You have a remarkable capacity for self-delusion as you believe yourself to be unimportant."

I saw the corner of Helfdan's mouth creep up towards a smile. Svein shrugged and nodded his agreement with his ancient enemy.

"I would be interested in finding out how you come to that conclusion." Helfdan said, just the hint of an edge about his voice.

"There is no great trick to it. When we knew what ship it was that waited for me, we thought about everything we knew about you and quickly found your patterns."

He waited for a moment.

"I normally avoid rash decisions, but time is short so I will make one now. I will help you. What is it you wish to know?"

"You and the ice giants ruled this land before humans or Elves even thought about coming here." Kerrass began promptly.

"And indeed, before both had come to this part of the world." The Priest agreed.

"So what happened the first time that the Ship came here?"

"Ah."

At first we thought it was a weapon. A thing so very destructive to us and yet so empowering to our ancient enemy.

People talk about our enmity, between my people and yours but the truth in that matter is that you were victims of the cult that ruled these waters at the time. Our true enemy is our utter devotion to our religions which are many and varied. We are a people that worship with all of our souls because the alternative, that we might be wrong and that the next cult is right, is terrifying to us.

Or even worse, that there is actually nothing out there. That we are just deluding ourselves. That is truly terrifying. Hence the tendency to move towards worshipping actual things. The great beast Dagon and the Lady of the waters are good examples of things that ACTUALLY exist and can convey powers on their followers.

But at the time of your enslavement, these waters and your lands were under the influence of the cult of the Deep one. He who will rise and consume us all in his rising. Whose very existence will tear reality asunder and all that look upon him will know madness and disdain.

We now believe that he does not exist, ever since our Sorcerer scientists have been able to map the bed of the ocean and there is nowhere for the Deep one to exist. Your defeat of King Balor the One eye was seen as the final damnation of those people and they fled in order to search the oceans of the world in order to find him, wherever he may lie.

But I digress.

At first we thought that the Death Ship was a weapon. Sent against us by the Frost-Giants. Their own idea of heaven is the great frost where our idea of hell is the great freeze. At the time, our people were much more unified than they are now and as such it was a great terror to us when the waters around the islands started to freeze. We thought it was the herald of a great offensive by the Frost-Giants. They would be able to pass over the waves where they liked and the freezing of those waters would drive us away without a blow being thrown in anger. Terror is not the word for it. We have always dreaded the prospect that the Frost-Giants would be able to harness the magic that is at the root of their being and so, this was what we thought we were seeing.

After all, there is no magic that can be performed with water if an Ice-Giant can wave their hands and the wave, or water spout, or spear of water, or tidal wave or any of the other cataclysmic forms of water that our magic can summon will suddenly freeze before being able to actually achieve anything.

But those of our spies that were able to stand the colder temperatures of the surface told us that the Frost-Giants were just as confused as we were. The water was still cooling at the time but we were beginning to see the ice forming on the water.

Individual ice crystals were joining together and flowing together turning the water into slush. I suppose it would be similar to one of your people walking through high winds all the time. But to us, it was just as fearful.

The cold increased. We could occasionally still see the skies but now the landscape started to freeze. There were still the warm currents coming up from the south and from over the sea and this carved great caverns in the ice. But our greatest fears were being realised. We had outposts on the surface and we received our last messages from them which was that the skies had changed. There were great waves of light in the sky that moved in the same way that the tides do. The same way that waves wash against the shore. They told us that the stars were strange and unrecognisable. They told us that they were afraid.

Then it came.

It was like nothing we had ever seen before. We recognised it as a boat. The Giants don't bother with ships or boats of that kind on the grounds that they don't really need to move around a great deal and so they tend to stay in those places that leave them feeling the most comfortable.

The only boats and ships that we had seen on the waters at that point were the dwarves and the Vran, on those occasions when either of their people decided to take to the water. Which was rare. The dwarves tend to live below ground and the Vran tended to keep to their mountain fastnesses. The only people that really employed boats to live and work on the water were the Werebubbs. But their craft were simple things to be used on rivers and lakes in order to fish.

This was something else entirely. There was a line of logic to it. In the same way that your mighty longships and the ships of the continent are extensions and improvements on what those ancient river and lake craft of the werebubbs would be. So to, this would be a feet of nautical engineering that was greater and larger again. On top of what can already be achieved.

To us, it was like a thing from the future coming to our waters and were terrified of it. We immediately wondered what it could be and why it was coming for us. We now know that the creatures that walked about on it's deck were human. They would dress strange to you but at the time, we had no idea who they were or where they came from. There was a spectral light about them and our magic users were able to tell that there was a magic about the ship that they could not unravel or understand. They were afraid of it. They told the Priest Kings of the time that it was a magic of life, death and life-in-death. They told us these things but could not explain what that meant and this did not assuage our terror.

But it was a different ship then. Very different. There was no Albatross flying in the sky above the ship. There was none of the rage or anger about the thing. Indeed, the main thing that seemed to be true about the ship, was that it was afraid. Not just the people that were aboard the ship and moved up the masts to work the sails in attempts to try and work them in a way to make the best use of the wind in the air. But the ship itself seemed to be afraid in some way.

It was also lost. After a while, you can tell a ship that has lost it's way. Has it's star charts the wrong way round or is captained by someone who "is sure" that they are going the right way and as a result, won't listen to the other members of the crew that actually know what's going on.

It was wandering about. Going this way and that way. Part of the problem was that it was trapped in the ice caverns the same as anyone but even when it made it into the outside of things and into the open air, when anyone can take a bearing off the son during the day, or the stars at night. They would travel around in circles, often narrowly avoiding the ice that threatened to tear their hull out from underneath them. It was lost and the sailors were plainly terrified.

And angry. At each other but more especially, they were angry at one of their number.

As I say, our magic when it comes to things happening on the water is quite powerful and we can often see many things that would be hidden from the direct line of sight that is used by our eyes. There was one figure on the ship that was in a terrible state. Much more so than his fellows who were not doing well themselves.

You remember when I said earlier that there was no Albatross flying overhead. That was correct but it would be wrong to say that there was no albatross at all. The figure that I speak of was a man. He was thin by this point, all but a skeleton, a fraction of his former self. You could see the bones sticking out against his skin and he wailed most piteously.

The other men aboard ship ignored his pleas for mercy as their fury against his betrayal was all consuming. We never found out what that betrayal was but to signify that betrayal, as a reminder of that betrayal, they had tied the corpse of an Albatross around his neck. He was tied to the central mast of the ship and the corpse of that greatest and most mighty of sea birds was dragging at him.

It must have been an incredibly painful torture, the weight of the corpse along with it's stench, filth and disease that came with it, pulling down on his neck and tugging at his arms and body against the rope that bound him into place. I can only imagine the pain that he might have been in and it was said that his howls of agony were the only sound that was heard across the miles of frozen water.

The Ice giants had withdrawn to their caves while they tried to reason out what this all might mean and we had been driven below the ice in order to maintain our own survival so it must have been a hell-scape the likes of which we, here assembled, could never imagine. Your people are not made for the cold either and the crew of the thing that would go on to be called the death ship were suffering and beginning to fail.

It would seem that the man tied to the mast was not without recourse though. According to our mages that were watching, his cries of pain, fear and recrimination were only partially true. The rest of the time he was looking for a means of escape.

And he saw it.

The ship must have been passing one of the larger islands although I have no idea which. The islands actually change location over time and are now in different positions to where they were then. But just as the ship sailed out of one of the ice caverns, the captive saw a rocky protrusion. Correctly deciding that this meant that there was real land nearby and that he wouldn't be isolating himself on an ice flow, he looked to the albatross that was tied around his neck and saw the crossbow bolt embedded in the things corpse, presumably the thing that had killed it.

He leant his head forward and seized the bolt with his teeth and wrenched it free. Using the agility of the sailing profession, he worked the point of the bolt into his hands and was able to cut himself free while the others were not watching. Then he threw the corpse from his neck and hurled himself over the side of the ship to swim towards land.

He shouldn't have survived. In that kind of water, the shock of the cold alone should have forced the air out of his lungs. His limbs should have gone rigid as all of his muscles should have tensed up so that he couldn't move them and he should have sunk like a stone. That's what he should have done.

But he didn't.

Was there magic in it? Almost certainly. Because he did sink like a stone at first but then, by some effort, he started to move, swam for the surface and made it to the rocks where he was able to climb over the rocks and lie flat on the stone.

There were calls from the ship itself. Men called his name and tried to get him to come back. But whether by exhaustion or the cold, he could not even lift his head.

Ships like that don't just turn straight around and the death ship is still governed by the laws that keep the ships in the water. It cannot turn on a sword point. The escapee realised that his ship was coming back for him, leapt to his feet and fled, heading further inland and further from our sight.

We never saw him again.

The ship sailed around and around the area, the men calling out for their missing fellow. Eventually the ship faded and the ice melted in the normal way of things at that time of year.

And we thought that that was the end of it. We thought that it was all over. But it wasn't over. Six months later, the ship came again. In the middle of winter, this time, so that there wasn't that much difference. The winters were much colder back then so there wasn't really that much difference between how things were and how things seemed to get under the influence of the ship. But it came again.

This time we were prepared. Our swimmers and trackers had our cold water gear on. In the same way that you wear furs and wrap yourselves up in skins, eat hot food and take all kinds of other precautions, we have our own ways of staying warm in the coldest of temperatures. The problem being that we need to be prepared for such things.

No, we're not telling you how we do it so don't even ask. And yes, a few fathoms down our cold water gear is waiting for us so we don't give anything away to people who might still be enemies.

So we were able to track the movements of the ship much closer. But even then, and even now, there were some boundaries that we could not get close to. There was just no way that we could get close enough to the ship to properly communicate with it.

That first time that it came, it moved around at a frightening speed. With more sail on it's masts than anything we have ever seen, before or since and it sailed the seas with a power and a strength that was almost intimidating to see. It smashed through the ice flows sending chunks and splinters of that ice high into the air with the force of that impact. Impacts that would have torn steel let alone the wood that the ship seemed to be made out of.

There was no pattern to that first visitation. Or the second or even the third.

The fourth time it came, the Albatross flew above the mast, circling in greater and larger circles every time. The fear on the ship was palpable and almost pitiable. The bird, the crew, even the very ship itself seemed to cry out in fear, pain and longing for the missing man. We would have helped it if we could. Even our most hard-hearted warriors felt themselves tremble with the pity of the thing.

And so it was. It would be around the islands for a few days, sailing this way and that way in a frantic search before disappearing.

Then there was a long delay between visits and we thought that the ship had gone. That it had either found that person that it was looking for or that it had given up it's quest. We still kept an eye out for him and, occasionally, we did find things that would suggest that he had gone this way or that way but he seemed skilled at concealing his tracks and hiding his passing. We had no idea of his physical capabilities and for all we knew, he was magical in nature so...

But then the ship came back. As though it had provisioned itself properly for an extended period in distant waters. This time it started to search methodically, search properly with a structure. They were still worried but there was a slow, gradual, creeping kind of methodology to their searching. The pattern that is now the standard for it's movements became the normal for what it would do and how it would do it.

As the ice retreated and we learned more of men, we reasoned that the escaped man must have died. We even tried to tell the ship that. According to what few records we have of that time, the cult of the deep one having taken their own records with them, one of the agreements that we had with your people as part of the compact, was that the islands should be searched for this strange man. We did not have much of a description for him but anytime a strange, slightly shorter than normal skeleton was found, then we would try and leave it in a place that the ship and the circling Albatross would find it.

But over and over again, the ship would just ignore the corpse.

It was therefore proposed, that in the absence of any other kind of reasoning, that the man must have survived in some way and the ship, or whatever was controlling the ship, was looking for him. So we looked for the man.

But the ship was getting angry now. It's grief had moved onto anger. Instead of the cold that it brought with it being a kind of aura that floated round it in a cloud, now that cold was a hammer that it used against anything that tried to approach it. A weapon that it would use to defend itself. Like we know that your people have done, we attacked it and tried to drive it off, back when we still thought that it might be some kind of weapon or ally to the Frost-Giants. But the cold of the thing would just reach out and shatter our spears and bolts. Our magic would be swatted aside in the same off-hand way that you might swat aside a pebble, or an insect, or a floating puffball seed.

So we withdrew. In our minds, it changed from being an enemy force into being one of those supernatural occurrences that we could do nothing about. We treated it like a natural effect. The same way that we would treat an underwater eruption or a tremor. The way we avoid the filth and horror that comes out of the Pontar and Yaruga rivers now. It was a thing that we avoided. Sooner or later the tree must bend before the hurricane. It must bend or it will break.

The ship is the hurricane. Your people have bent before it for centuries. But if you have a way to dismiss it, or to end it's torment in any way. If you know where this person, this missing crewman is, then we will be grateful. It will forever change the power-structure of our people. But we would be grateful. Of that you can be sure of.

He stopped abruptly. I thought that there would be more to it than that.

But that was it.

Helfdan turned to Kerrass. "Is that enough?" He asked. "Does that get us what we need?"

"Oh yes." Kerrass told him. "That is more than enough."

It's been a while since I've talked about the day to day grind of a Witcher's life. The day to day tasks, the looking for notices on the noticeboards of the world. The trees, the fenceposts and the signposts. Scanning for details amongst those posters showing badly drawn pictures of wanted men and the bounties attached. Those notices for lost items or offerings of so much money for so many things to be gathered and delivered to such and such an address in order for payment to be received.

In amongst there there might be a notice for something strange happening. Something out of the ordinary that no-one can explain. Or sometimes it might be something simple. "Griffin terrorising cattle." or "Dragon frightening towns folk."

It's never a dragon. It's always a Wyvern of some kind. Do not be fooled.

But more often than not. There is something that needs to be investigated. "People going missing in local cave, strange tracks seen," even if there isn't an overt sign saying "Witcher wanted."

"The other method of finding work is the slightly less common method of approaching a town or a village and standing there, proud on a local landmark such as a tower or a small hill and allowing yourself to be seen with the two swords on your back so that everyone can tell that you are a Witcher. Then, if someone approaches with the offer of work, then you know to approach and enquire.

Then there is the time of investigation. That period of time where questions need to be asked and answered. Where witnesses need to be interrogated and small pieces of information need to be teased out of the locals in the same way that a mother might coax a small splinter out of the skin of a child. There is often a portion of reconnaissance, where the Witcher will go out and look at the tracks, examine the leavings and the slime and the remains of the creatures prey. The Witcher might watch the beast from a distance, taking notes so that they can be absolutely certain what they are dealing with.

This is because there are similarities in some of these creatures but although there might be outward similarities, the differences are pronounced and might require a different oil to put on the blade. Or it might be more advantageous to attack at night rather than during the day.

I don't talk about these things as much any more because after a while, it all becomes depressingly routine. Once you have gone on a few hunts, you've been on them all. So the only reason why tou would want to record them is if something interesting or out of the ordinary happens. Which is a lot rarer than you might think. Trust me when I say that I am well aware of the stupidity of the statement.

The fact is that, despite the exciting nature of the work from an outside perspective, even the exciting or the magical can become mundane to those people that have to live with it on a day to day basis. So such matters are only of interest to academics who want the detailed accounts of what it was that we were hunting which are published in the more official university journals. Kerrass has even argued in the past, that it is this precise boredom that has resulted in the deaths of more than one monster hunter. Although I can't comment on that.

But after all this routine, there comes a moment where all the preparations are done. When Kerrass has brewed the oils, has the necessary potions lined up in his belt and he knows exactly what he is facing. There is no longer any question of what it is that he is dealing with. He knows which way the creature is going to move, which way that it is going to jump and now all that is left is for the killing to happen.

When we get to this stage, a strange look of hunger comes over Kerrass' face. The hunger of a man that knows what needs to happen now and what he is going to do. The hunger of a man for whom all of the confusion has fallen away and now he is left with a certainty. That clarity is enviable and sometimes I wish for it to exist in my normal life.

But that clarity was on us then. There was only one thing to do now. We must sail back to Kaer Trolde and tell the Queen what we had found. If she agreed then the druid who had lied to us, as we knew he had, would probably be given to the ship in order to get rid of it. If she disagreed, then Kerrass and I would find alternative means of getting the information out of the man.

In truth though, I did not believe that it would come to that. I absolutely believed that we would be given the permission that we needed and I would find another piece of the puzzle in the mystery of where my sister had gone.

I did not allow myself the hope that the Druid would simply point to a map and say, "Your sister is there," but I did hope that he would tell us where to go next. There were some other things as well. I wanted to be able to close off this chapter on the Skeleton Ship so that I could have it published. I rather thought that the world would like to know about everything that had happened and that it would be of interest to certain scholars. As well as an outsiders perspective on the islands.

But all that was ahead of me. Like Kerrass, I felt the hunger of wanting to get going. To, essentially, dump the Vodyanoi over the side and to get underway. Ciri looked a little wistful but the others seemed to share my thinking on one level or another.

"We do not have a lot of time." The Priest told Helfdan. "One of my guards tells me that the Albatross has been spotted approaching these islands. Whether it senses us or if it is just coming this way on a whim is impossible to say. Normally these matters would be accompanied by ceremony and etiquette but time, it seems has caught up with us and it comes time to say farewell and part."

"As you say, Farewell then."

"You misunderstand." The priest told an already moving Helfdan. "We have gifts for your Queen in the hope that, although such matters will take time, the world is shrinking and we would move towards understanding, even if we cannot manage trust and friendship. So I offer these relics of your people and mine that were taken from the cult of the Deep one when we drove them away."

He gestured. The translator held out the box that was made out of an old weathered wood. "First the ceremonial head-dress of King Balor One-Eye." The box was opened to display a crown of a black metal with deep green gems embedded in the points. The box was closed in short order and handed over to Svein with haste.

"And this spear was once wielded by one of the generals of the people who over-threw King Balor and cast him out of your islands. We know little about it other than it was as much a banner as a weapon and that your people called it "The Sun-Spear". But we can't tell you much more about it than that."

The priest held it out in both hands and bowed. Helfdan accepted the gesture a little awkwardly.

We all heard it then. The distant cry of a bird. It reminded me most of a sea-gull but it was both deeper, and more shrill.

There was no disguising the fear in the translator's voice then. "But now we must go. Come back and contact us again if you, or your Queen would like to speak further. Farewell."

Then without leaving us any further time. The remaining Vodyanoi simply leapt over the side and vanished from sight almost as quickly.

"Fuck me." Someone muttered.

Helfdan's mouth worked a bit, opening and closing a few times. As though he had been in the middle of a prepared speech and then someone had told him not to bother.

Then he shrugged.

"Kaer Trolde it is then." He told us all. "Oars, best speed. Sounds like we get to race the Skeleton Ship."

We did not hesitate to do what he ordered.

(A/N: Helfdan's story regarding the origins of the Skelligan people is mostly cribbed and adapted from the stories regarding the ancient settlers of Ireland. Although the Skelligans are mostly adapted from Norse mythology and culture there are elements of them that remind me more of ancient Celtic myth. Especially the facts regarding the invasion and subjugation by Cidaris that happened in Skelligan history.

It is also a thing that resonates to me because the English voice acting on the Islands, in the game, is from Scotland, Ireland and Wales. So it just occurred to me to use Celtic myth there.

It is also true that I know more about Celtic myth and Legend than I do about Norse myth and Legend. As always, thank you for reading.)