"You're leaving us?" Mairi sounded distraught at the idea. She wasn't the only one either, the rest of them were far from pleased by the news.

"For a short while, that's all." Rowena comforted her, "We wouldn't do it if it wasn't important." It wasn't what either of them wanted to do, but speed was vital and dragging along a baker's dozen worth of young magicals would make things more difficult. They'd considered one of them staying behind, but since they could return without any trouble, they decided it would be better if they did it together.

Meanwhile, Harry pulled Euan aside and instructed him, "Just keep your head down and look out for everyone. Make sure no one leaves the ward line alone, and that the younger ones always have one of the older ones with them. We won't be gone for more than a few days at a time. Hell, we might even be able to come back each night and sleep here." There was no guarantee, and they wouldn't want to risk the ire of the lords hosting them by going missing, but it was possible, "And if we're lucky, it won't take too terribly long." Please let us be lucky.

The younger man gave him a stern nod, but despite the brave face, Harry could see his concern, "Don't worry, I'll take care of them. I promise."

Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze, "I know you will. It's what you did in the monastery, so I wouldn't expect anything less now." While he only knew Euan for a short time, it was honest praise. Not everyone would show such defiance and bravery in the face of the hopelessness with the priests.

Proud of that praise, Euan asked, "Will we stay here?"

"For now, yes. In a week's time, depending on how things have gone, we'll move you to Varrich with the other Highlanders." It was a reasonable amount of time for Gamelin and Inan to reach the northern fortress and while there should be others there already, Rowena didn't know them and wouldn't be willing to trust them. Neither of them liked leaving the children in the forest because they knew that it was likely there were Church-loyal magicals amongst the mob that might find them. But it was out of the way, and they intended to add to the wards before departing. And at least there's no Taboo that'll give their location away.

"And if they find us?" Given everything they'd been through, Harry could understand the trepidation in his voice.

"I'll know, and I'll come back." Alarm wards existed for a reason, and there was nowhere in the British Isles that he couldn't apparate to in a moment's notice.

More than anything, that reassured him, and he relaxed slightly, "Alright, I understand."

Harry clapped his shoulder, "Everything'll be fine." At least I hope it will… as we go about organizing a war.

"When are you leaving?" Mairi hugged around Rowena's waist, head pressed against her stomach.

Rowena patted the girl's hair, "Now, I'm afraid. The quicker we do this the better." There was no guarantee that they'd be successful anyway. There's every possibility they tell us no without a second thought.

Mairi nodded her head before she gave Rowena one last squeeze, "Don't worry," the young woman told her, cupping her cheek, "We'll be back before you know it."

"Be careful while we're gone," Harry spoke to all the children, "And look out for each other." With that, Harry and Rowena walked away together. When they reached the ward line, they stopped, each of them taking to a different task. He turned back to the wards, and new layers fell over the top of the clearing. Meanwhile, his companion grabbed a simple branch from the ground and turned it into a portkey since she was the one who knew where they were going. It was always odd to him that such a useful spell could be performed using such non-descript objects.

Silently, she came to his side and offered him the branch. There was that unpleasant feeling behind his navel and a rush of air. He landed solidly on the ground, but not without leaning unsteadily into Rowena. You'd think at some point, I'd figure out how to get that right every time. He'd managed it on the journey to the monastery but wasn't quite as lucky this time.

Blushing slightly, a little from embarrassment but more thanks to the feel of her pressed against him, he mumbled, "Sorry."

The young founder didn't seem the least bit bothered by it, "Lucky for me, you're steadier in a fight."

"Had a bit more practice with fights," he agreed with a bit of chuckle.

"Well, I'd say that's a wee bit more useful most days… but, hopefully we don't have another one waiting for us here." Rowena was looking toward the town that sat along the water's edge. There were houses made of lumber, wattle, and daub and roofed with straw. Pretty sure you could destroy the whole town with some blue-bell flames.

Still, it was picturesque, sat in a natural harbor with a gravel beach along the shoreline and a lush green landscape behind. They were stood on the arm of the harbor across from the main town, "Where are we?"

"Stjornavagr, in the Outer Hebrides," she told him as she started walking, "It was founded by the Norse a hundred years ago, and it's the primary trading point out of these isles."

"And your uncle's here?"

"Yes," Rowena faltered and bit her lip, glancing at him almost nervously, "Or at least he should be."

"Should be?"

"I haven't seen him in years, and since my mother died…" She frowned, "He didn't hate my father, but he didn't call upon us as often. He loved his sister, but with her gone, he had his own life to lead and his own family to build."

"Is he not magical?"

"No… not in the same way." Harry could only guess that meant he was a squib with some small modicum of magical ability. Or maybe the magic manifested in some other way… something that went entirely out of practice in my own time.

"Right… so, there's every possibility he's not here then?"

As she worried her lower lip, he already had his answer, "Yes… but I hope he is. And if he's not, I'm sure we'll be able to find someone who can tell us where he's gone."

Harry could only shake his head, not at her, just at the situation. One of these days, I'm going to have more to go on than a bit of good luck and hope. But considering what they were trying to do, they would probably need plenty of it anyway.

They made it into the town quickly enough. There were no walls or gates to bar their entry. People didn't give them any mind, as it wasn't uncommon for people to come from further inland on Lewis and Harris to trade in the port town. All the pathways led toward the port, there were longships moored there.

When they reached the town center proper, Rowena approached an older woman, her once dark hair was almost completely greyed, and she was missing two of her teeth. Dental hygiene wasn't exactly a priority of the times after all, "Excuse me?" He felt her quietly cast the translation spell that he'd taught her.

"Yes?" The woman said warily.

"I'm looking for Torgils, he once served the Jarl Asbjorn as his helmsman."

Frowning, she pointed down to one of the buildings along the shore, "In there, you can usually find him wherever you can find the ale."

Rowena frowned slightly, "Thank you." Harry followed behind as they passed through what was ostensibly the market. They passed a fishmonger and a fur trader as they made their way to the tavern.

Harry found himself looking at everyone they passed because there was no knowing who they could trust. More often than not, there were Thor's Hammers around their necks, which put him at some ease. But he couldn't help the feeling that they were being watched.

There was laughter coming from within as they opened the door. There were maybe thirty people pressed together and it smelled of cooked fish and strong ale. One bear of a man was at the counter, yelling loudly, "I tell you… I shoved a spear right through the things gut!" He took a long pull of drink from his flagon, and some of it spilled into his beard. His hair was in a messy braid. There were gold and silver rings around his tree trunk sized arms. And he must have been at least half a foot taller than Harry and strong enough to cut a man clean in two. Looks like the sort of lad who can get in a fist fight with a troll and have a half-decent chance of winning.

"Well, at least we found him…" Rowena had a fond, slightly exasperated smile for her uncle. Unbothered by his boisterousness, she walked up and placed a hand on his back.

Turning at her touch, seeing her face brought a dopey grin to his own, "Asa… is that you… my word you don't look like you've aged a day! Come, come have a drink with me!" He was clearly drunk, and Harry could only wonder how much ale it took to manage it.

"I'm your niece, not your sister, uncle." Rowena told him gently. He looked at her again but didn't seem to manage any recognition. That changed when Harry saw her tip her wand out and cast a quick spell.

Sadness came to his eyes, which were very much like his niece's. Sobered from the spell, he told her "Of course, how could I have forgotten, I miss her every day."

They shared a sad smile, "As do I, uncle. But, in her absence, I'd be happy to share a drink with you."

"Of course, how could I refuse. It'll give you the chance to tell me what you're doing here." He gestured to the barman for another drink and offered it to Rowena before turning to go to a table. It was only then that he noticed Harry standing there, "Who's he?"

"Harry," Rowena told him simply as she took a seat.

The older man looked him up and down, appraising him. Whatever he saw at least didn't displease him as he gave a nod and sat down beside his niece, "You look just like her, you know. More beautiful than any man deserves." He glanced at Harry as he said it. Well, that's not too bad as far as warnings go.

Rowena's eyes flitted to Harry too, before she looked down to the raven's claw on her chest, "I think I'm the one who gets to decide that."

He boomed a laugh, "Aye, truly just like her." He gave a shake of his head, and took a quick drink of ale, "Now, you didn't just come to visit, nice as it is… so, tell me why you're here."

"What've you heard about Inverness?" She asked him. News spread a bit more slowly to the Outer Isles, so there was no guarantee that they'd even heard anything yet.

"Nothing new, why?"

"We…" She hesitated, not sure exactly how to explain this to her uncle.

"We raided a monastery in Inverness because they were holding our fellow magicals captive," There was no Statute of Secrecy to worry about, and he was family anyway, so he didn't hesitate in telling the man, "We killed the bishop that was overseeing it, and we thought, all the priests and nuns there, too."

Torgils eyes got big, before he slapped a hand down on the table with another booming laugh, "Good on yeh! Protect your own."

"Yes," Rowena cut back in, "But we didn't get them all. One of them scurried away to St. Andrews."

"So, I'm guessing they retaliated."

"Against any pagan they can find." Rowena confirmed, "Whether they be Scot, Dane, or Norse, if you hold to the old gods of your forebears, they don't discriminate."

The man looked incensed. His grip on the flagon in his hand grew tighter and Harry could hear the wood protest as he did it, "Why come to me? I can offer you a bed to sleep in and some small safety if that's what you're after, but not much more."

"Because we mean to fight."

"Of course, you do." Torgils looked between them, seemingly pleased at the news, "But you didn't just come here for me then, did you?"

"No, the highland chiefs that still hold to the old gods won't be enough to fight Causatain when he raises his army," Rowena explained, "We know that we'll need others. I'm hoping that you might help us convince Jarl Asbjorn to raise the Hebrides."

"A year ago, I would've taken you to him…" He shook his head, "but now, he's a changed man. I always knew him as loyal to the gods, a raider, a captain, a man that others were proud to call Jarl. But since the priest arrived…"

"The priest?"

"Aye, Father Gideon," his distaste for this man was palpable, "he's wormed his way into Asbjorn's confidence."

"They always do." There was nothing but cold contempt in her voice.

Her uncle agreed, "Asbjorn has grown quiet, weaker, and the man seems to always be at his side. I've been his helmsman for three decades, raided together, stood in the shield-wall side by side. All with the gods on our shoulder, but now… Now he's agreed to build a church here in Stjornavagr."

"Have there been many converts?" Harry asked. It'd be good to know if they could expect a confrontation.

"Half a dozen, no more." Torgils shrugged, "There might be more who have considered it, but there are many more who are furious with him." If it weren't for the years of respect he'd built, it sounded like he'd already be facing a coup.

"Take us to him," Rowena all but demanded, "I'd like to see for myself."

"I…" He saw the look in her eye and shook his head, "You'll just go yourself if I don't take you?"

"Yes." They didn't necessarily need her uncle, they'd known that. He just represented the best opportunity. Though apparently not anymore.

"Come." He stood and they followed, though not before the barman stopped him.

"Now, I know better than to let you out of here without paying. Come on now."

The mountainous man took off one of his armbands and threw it down on the counter, "That should settle me up for some time, yes?" The barman looked at the band and gave him a nod.

"Really, uncle?" Rowena said as they exited.

"I haven't been on the sea in two years now," He told her, "I've nothing better to do with my wealth. I'm no lord, no men follow me, and my own sons have made their way in the world."

"When did you last see Dagfinn and Magnus?"

"Five years ago, now," he smiled, "I don't blame them, they both had a restlessness and love for the sea. And since their mother passed, the call of the waves is stronger than the call of home."

They made their way through the town and ended up in front of a hall. It was half again taller than anything around it. Just a little further along was something else that caught the eye though. The beginnings of a new building, its footprint was bigger than the jarl's hall. I suppose that's the new church.

There were guardsmen outside of the hall, but they didn't stop Torgils as he made for the door. They actually gave a respectful bow of their head as he passed. Opening it, he led them inside. The ceiling was high and arched. There was a hearth in the center of the room, but no fire burning. Long tables ran from the front near the door to the back of the hall where there was a large ornate seat. Animal reliefs were carved into the back and the arms.

Sitting on that cushioned seat was a man. His beard was neatly trimmed, but he looked gaunt and pallid. He was staring at the door without really seeing. He was so deep in thought, he didn't even notice their arrival.

"Lord," Torgils walked down the long table to come to his side.

Asbjorn shook himself and finally took note of them, "Torgils, my friend, I didn't see you there."

Harry couldn't help but notice that the priest was nowhere to be seen as the two men spoke, "I'm sorry for intruding, but there's someone who'd like to meet you. This is Rowena, my sister's daughter, she was hoping to have a word with you."

"Of course, any family of yours is welcome here. Sit, drink with me." He gestured to a young woman standing over at the side of the room and she filled three goblets with ale, "What word would you like to have with me?"

Rowena visibly steeled herself, "We learned a monastery at Inverness imprisoned and tormented children with Freja's gift. We freed them and killed those who tried to stop us." She refused to start this war on a lie, such things only led to bigger problems in the future, "In response, there's been slaughter of pagans happening in Alba and the highlands, Lord. Bishop Cellach in St. Andrews has called for it and Causantain supports it."

While she talked, Harry found himself performing a bit of magic. If Torgils followed this man, Harry doubted that words alone were the sort of thing that could turn him from his gods. No, I'd wager every galleon I ever had that there's something else at work here. Wandlessly, he looked for traces of magic, of some influence being done upon him. There were traces of magic, but nothing actively affecting him.

Closing his eyes, the Jarl took a deep breath, "That's… horrible to hear."

"It is," She agreed, looking briefly between her uncle and Harry, "And we don't mean for it to go unchecked."

He nodded his head, "You mean to make war, against Causantain, and you've come to me that I might raise men for you."

"It was our hope, Lord." The Jarl wrapped a hand around the necklace on his neck, and Harry was happy to see it wasn't a crucifix there.

"I…"

"It sounds to me," A new voice spoke from above on the balcony, "that King Causantain is doing God's work, and that the pagans who refuse to see his light are simply getting what they deserve. The fire's will cleanse their souls."

Torgils and Rowena looked up, but Harry found himself looking at Jarl Asbjorn. He looked haunted by the mere mention of the fire's, and he grasped all the more tightly to his pendant. The priest walked down from above. He was young, of middling height with hair down to his shoulders. There was nothing but disdain in his eyes as he looked them over.

Rowena returned that feeling in equal measure as she bit out, "Those people were innocent, men, women and children who did nothing wrong!"

"Paying for your sin, yes, I heard." His voice was melodic, almost hypnotic, "I can't imagine the guilt."

"We feel no guilt for doing the right thing." Harry spoke up, there was an undertone of magic in his voice that caused the priest to falter if only for a moment, "We only regret letting one of your lot get away."

"No guilt at all?" He sneered at them, "I shouldn't be surprised. I'd expect nothing less from heathens."

"Out," Asbjorn rasped out before they could continue, "All of you out! I wish to be alone."

"Lord, I…" Father Gideon tried to interject but was stopped.

"No, you too." He turned to Rowena, "I'll give your proposal some thought, and you'll have your answer in the morning."

"Thank you, Lord," She bowed her head, "That's all I can ask." He gave her a tired smile, stood and made for his private chambers. None of them, not even the priest, wanted to draw his ire, so they left.

When they were outside, he turned to Rowena looking smug, "You'll fail here, whatever little plan your scheming up will die in its infancy… just as you should've." Torgils looked ready to rip his head from his shoulders, but Harry managed to stop him, which really was no small feat.

"Now's not the time." The best thing could do was determine what exactly he was doing to the Jarl and expose him. Even if half the people in the town want him dead, it'll mean more if Asbjorn is the one to do it.

"Just the other day, Jarl Asbjorn was telling me he's thinking of getting baptized." That brought all of them up short, "Once he's a Christian, he would never dare raise an army against Causantain." Satisfied that he'd won this little confrontation, he walked away toward the church's building site.

"He'd never." Torgils sounded horrified.

"He might, especially with whatever magic is being done to him."

"Magic?"

"The priest, he's one of us, and he's doing something to your friend."

Harry saw then the countenance that had no doubt put fear into many men across the battlefield, "We must put a stop to it."

"We don't even know what he's doing," Rowena rubbed her uncle's arm, trying to comfort him.

"No, not with any certainty," Harry agreed, "But I think I have a pretty good idea."

"What're you thinking?"

"That Asbjorn looks like he hasn't had a good night's sleep in months. Almost like he's been suffering from nightmares." Considering the magic wasn't actively affecting him, that meant that it was probably happening when he didn't know it. Like when he's sleeping. "Torment a man long enough, and eventually he'll become desperate for a reprieve. Especially when you whisper in his ear that all it'll take is embracing God to do it."

"Tonight," Torgils demanded, "You deal with it tonight." To know that his friends decline was not a simple case of trusting the wrong man, but because he was actively being influenced made him furious.

"Tonight," Harry agreed. The sun was already setting on the edge of the horizon, casting a beautiful light over the harbor. They wouldn't need to wait long.

They stayed in Torgils home until the moon hung high and clear in the sky. The paths were quiet, the guardsmen were the only ones out. But even then, Harry and Rowena meant to take extra precautions. Hidden beneath disillusionments with their footsteps silenced, they moved together through the town. They told Rowena's uncle to wait and watch, only intervene if it looked necessary.

Entering the Jarl's hall was simple, they levitated themselves up to the second story and entered through one of the windows. From there, they made their way down and into his chambers. For a moment, Harry wondered if he'd been wrong, if this had all been futile attempt at catching the priest out. Or maybe he was just wise enough to stop while we're here.

But then, that would've raised questions from the Jarl. Why would the nightmares stop only when we're here? So, no, he wasn't wrong. He just wasn't expecting the invisibility cloak. If it weren't for the little light, no bigger than a pin prick coming from Asbjorn's temple, he wouldn't have known.

Reaching out, Harry took hold of the translucent fabric and pulled. The priest startled, stabbing his wand into Asbjorn's temple and waking him instantly. There was blood dripping down his face as he looked around frantically, his eyes narrowed as they landed on a nervous priest, "Gideon?"

"Don't worry, Lord, you won't remember a thing." He raised his wand no doubt to obliviate the man.

But neither he nor Rowena had any intention of allowing that, His wand flew from his hand and into Harry's before he had the chance to get out the words. Both men jumped at the spell before they revealed themselves, "Apologies, Lord," Rowena said deferentially, "but we had certain suspicions regarding the father, here."

"What's going on?" He demanded.

"He's a magical, just like us, but raised by the Church, to manipulate and subvert." Father Gideon looked furious, eyes scanning for any means of escape, "I'd guess he's been giving you nightmares, ones that were meant to drive you closer to him and the Church."

Asbjorn looked utterly haunted, "It started six months after he arrived, at first it was just once a week at most. But then… every night… every night I saw the fires… the screams and the torment. And in the middle, my beloved Alof." His terror turned to fury as he looked toward the priest, and in that moment the man that he used to be shone through, "And you offered me comfort, claimed that I could see heaven if I just accepted your God, that I could even free my wife from the pit!"

"For a sizable portion of your wealth, I'm sure." Rowena sniped.

"It's the truth, lord." Gideon managed through his fear, "The dreams were meant only to guide you down the path."

"Liar! Rat!" Asbjorn bounded from the bed as others in the hall stirred awake. The first to arrive was the same young woman from that afternoon, "Inge, bring me my axe. Now!" The girl didn't question it, just hurried off.

Gideon could see the writing on the wall, and tried to run, but Harry stopped him, "Where do you think you're going?" The young priest looked truly fearful. Some of them are made of sterner stuff than others I suppose. "Not quite so smug now, are you?"

"With me." Asbjorn threw on a shirt and walked from the room. He spoke to the guards, "Rouse the people. Everyone should see this." A cry went up across the town as people were stirred from their beds. Inge arrived with the Jarl's axe and handed it to him as he pushed open the doors.

People were making their way down the streets, gathering together where they reached the hall. There were murmurings and confusion, as they saw their lord standing there axe in hand. To one of his guards, he said two simple words that made Gideon shudder in Harry's hand, "The block."

"Lord, please, no. I beg of you… don't do this. Don't do this!" The priest grew hysterical but his cries fell on deaf ears.

A stump of black wood, stained even darker from blood, was brought and placed at his feet. With the town gathered, he finally looked to Harry, "Bring him." Gideon struggled, but stopped as Togils came and punched him hard across the face. I imagine he's wanted to do that since the moment he met him. After that, Harry easily drove him to his knees with his neck across the block.

Asbjorn put his foot on his back to keep him in place. The terrified priest whimpered pitifully, but no one heard as the Jarl roared, "This man is a liar! For months, he's used and manipulated me. Just as he wishes to use and manipulate you! But no more!" He brought the axe down hard. While he wasn't as strong as he once was, the blade was sharp. It cleaved through flesh and bone, burying in the wood beneath in the blink of an eye. There was a dull thud as the head went tumbling to the ground.

"I've been weak but no more! I'll remember my gods, as should you. And never let another poisoned word reach my mind." He threw the axe down to the ground, and turned away from crowd. The conversations grew loud as he addressed his friend, "Torgils," the big man nodded his head, "In the morning, we ready for war."

"Yes, lord." The loyal helmsman gave nothing away, but pulled two of the guards inside and started talking with them.

It left him and Rowena with the Jarl, "So tell me, how do I know you won't lie and manipulate, same as him? Why shouldn't I take your heads to save myself the trouble?"

This would always be a problem when dealing with the mundane. They feared what they didn't understand, especially when it could so easily control them. It was an entirely different problem that would require a different sort of solution. But that was for a different time, "We're nothing like him, lord. We're pagan same as you and we understand ours is a gift from the gods meant to aid, not to hinder.

He regarded them for a long moment, before giving a chuckle. It sounded like it was the first time in a long time that he'd done it, "And if not for you, I would've been baptized within the week." He gave a wry shake of his head, "There's one more thing, I'd have you do for me."

"Lord?"

"Destroy that fucking church over there for me." He spit the words out like they tasted sour in his mouth, "I imagine you could get it done faster than any of my men.".

Harry saw no problem with it but Rowena didn't respond right away, and even he wasn't sure what she was thinking, "Lord, if I might offer an alternative."

"What?"

"It isn't consecrated ground, so it isn't a church, yet. Build a temple there in its place, to revere the Aesir and Vanir."

He turned and looked down the road to the unfinished building, and snorted, "I like it. I imagine the weasel shit would've hated that." He made to walk for the door, but stopped and spoke to them once more, "I'm not enough, you know? And I won't lead my men into a massacre."

They shared a look, before Harry told the Jarl, "We know." But it's a start.

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