It was another week's ride to Skullmont. The terrain was beautiful, but open grassland didn't make for easy hunting. Foraged vegetables and berries supplemented their dried stores, but Otto's hunger hadn’t felt fully satisfied since leaving the village.
Lukas had avoided Otto that first night, sharing his suppertime with Britta as they reminisced about a skirmish with another nomad band. Otto was slightly disappointed by it, much to his own chagrin. The second night, Lukas had delayed going to bed, and Otto'd hoped they might be able to talk again, but Rolf had grabbed Lukas and insisted he look at a sore on his rump that he swore was getting worse with each day in the saddle. Lukas taciturnly listened to Rolf's complaints and examined him without enthusiasm. When Lukas told him it was nothing serious, Rolf only grumbled louder, until Britta threw her empty soup mug at him and told him to shut up so she could sleep. Lukas performed some sort of healing on Rolf, which Otto suspected was mostly just to quiet him. As entertaining as it was, Otto was frustrated at again lacking an opportunity to talk to Lukas—and beyond that, frustrated with himself for caring so much. He'd never intended to develop feelings for Lukas beyond martial comradery, and yet he couldn't deny that over the course of their journey, he'd been thinking about Lukas more and more.
The next night, however, Lukas volunteered for the first watch shift, and Britta's pointed glare at Rolf sent him to his own bedroll instead of hassling Lukas again. Otto took some extra time to brush Leif before winding down for the night, waiting for the others to retire. Apprehension pattered within him as he approached Lukas, but he steadfastly ignored it; if Lukas wanted to be left alone, he'd make it clear, and Otto would respect that.
"You having trouble sleeping?" Lukas asked as Otto sat across from him.
"A bit," Otto said.
"Prince like you must not appreciate a thin bedroll on the hard ground, being used to feather-filled mattresses."
"Hard ground's good for a warrior's back, isn't it?" Otto said. "Too much softness for too long and one'll go soft. I'd like to think I'm still a good many years away from that."
"Some of us can do without softness at all." Lukas poked the fire with a twig. He sounded sulky, not sincere.
"I don't think I ever saw you before this summer. You were part of a Hoartower band before, Greendeer?"
"That's right." For a minute, there was only the sound of the fire between them, and Otto thought the conversation might die here. Just as he was seriously contemplating whether to walk away, rather than forge ahead with another awkward false start, Lukas went on. "Before that, Hollyhide of Hoartower. I was born to that band. Left it eight years back to come out to Skullmont. When I returned, Hollyhide wouldn't take me back, but I knew Britta from solstice seasons. She vouched for me as a good warrior, which Greendeer desperately needed at the time, and they let me join up."
"You made it to Skullmont and back on your own?" Traveling alone was dangerous, especially outside of well-populated areas.
"With the gods smiling on me, I suppose." Lukas wore anything but a smile. Despite his burning curiosity, Otto sensed it would be unwise to pry into why exactly Lukas had gone off on his own to Skullmont. "And you've spent your whole life in Thunderhill."
"I have, nearly. I've been out on hunts and missions, of course. There were the raids on Yewcastle, back when we were at war. Once, when I was young, I traveled with my fathers for a great feast at Coldriver. That was the year Queen Ice was slain, and the nests on Mount Gizzard located and destroyed." It had been a grand celebration, and a show of Coldriver's martial might against monsters—one that benefited Thunderhill as well, since Thunderhill had lost many livestock to Queen Ice and the other giant white owls of Mount Gizzard. King Johan and King Alvar, as it had still been at the time, didn't risk bad blood by refusing the invitation and brought gifts of sheep, mead, and gold with them.
"Always more monsters to hunt. After the white owls, the dire foxes got bolder." Lukas's frown deepened. He stared intently into the fire. "And now Ursa Magnus."
"The cycle always goes on. Eat, be eaten. Slay, be slain," Otto said. It was harsh, but it was the way of the world. Ursa was particularly terrifying, but at his core, he was just another monster. "For every monster we kill, another one of Thea's spawn rises to take its place. But we must fight to protect our families and livelihoods. If we didn't slay the monsters who threatened us, who's to say Thea's fertile womb would not keep birthing such beasts until they swallowed up the world?"
"All things will be swallowed up in the end, if myths are true." Lukas looked up mournfully, the flames reflecting in his dark eyes. Otto couldn't tell exactly what was on his mind, but he was willing to bet Lukas was thinking about something more than just monsters.
"I don't intend to let that happen in my lifetime," Otto said firmly. He was here not just for himself, but for his brothers back home, his fathers and their subjects, for all of Thunderhill. He could not control, and hence would not contemplate, the end of the world. But the wellbeing of his kin and friends was well worth the risks and sacrifices of hunting monsters. "And to keep up that struggle, to fight until I die and pass through the gate to Isendann, that's all I can ask for."
Lukas didn't reply to that at once, though he regarded Otto thoughtfully. Otto kept his gaze, feeling a longing to reach out, to clap Lukas on the shoulder, if not pull him into an embrace. But he just waited until Lukas said, "I suppose that is all we can ask for, in this life."
Otto sat with Lukas a while more, watching the red and orange and yellow dancing up from the blackening branches. Otto wondered if Hald was still awake back home, drinking and gossiping, and how Johan was faring, whether he was recovering or just wasting away. With one king now too maimed to fight, and both getting on in age, Otto knew his time to step up as king was coming soon. The burden of Thunderhill's future fell upon Otto heavier than ever before, and he hoped fervently that the visit to mysterious Skullmont would give him what he needed to find Ursa Magnus and bring their quest to an end. Lukas looked thoughtful in his own way as he stared into the fire, and Otto wondered what was on his mind, what worries were causing his brow to furrow. But neither struck up conversation again, and sleep soon called.
*~*~*
Part of Otto hoped against the odds that they'd stumble across some sign of Ursa on their travels to Skullmont. He had no such luck. His feeling of guilt for not putting a stop to Ursa sooner grew with each passing day. Irrational though it was, he felt personally responsible for the deaths Ursa had caused since leaving Thunderhill. The reindeer remnants being feasted on by the carrion-eater, and worse, the grisly scene of the slain nomad band, lurked at the back of his mind.
At the foot of the mountains, they encountered a nomad band, but it was whole and unharmed. The group was small, perhaps three dozen in total with twice as many reindeer, and watched them warily. Otto approached with Britta and Petra, asking if they'd seen any signs of a great bear, but they said no. It was clear they didn't trust nor want to deal with these unknown warriors, so Otto thanked them and each group continued on its own way.
Earlier, they had come across the mangled corpses of some wild goats, about three days into the plains, which they’d spotted thanks to the fleeing ravens, scared off by a landing carrion-eater. But nearby predator leavings were from dire foxes, not a great bear. Through the rest of that day and night, Otto worried about another monster attack. They could certainly defeat dire foxes, but not necessarily without casualties, and they'd already had to leave Ulf. But be it by luck or the blessings of the gods, they reached the foot of Mount Kalevar undisturbed.
The mountain showed its great age and signs of traffic, stones worn smooth, and more than once, Otto spotted a small animal skull carved into the rock face. The initial ascent up the base of the mountain was manageable, but once it began to get steeper, more rock than soil on the ground and much of it impassable, Otto had them pause for a meal and a stretch. He left Leif with the rest of the group’s mounts, but only grabbed a handful of dry food from his satchel, not pausing to eat. Bitty followed on his heels, eager to explore with her master, and likely hoping to spot a cliff vole to eat.
"Lukas, with me," Otto said. "We'll be back shortly," he told the others.
When they'd walked a short distance from the group, along what appeared to be the last remaining patch of gentle slope on this part of the mountain, Otto continued.
"I know Skullmont's on this mountain, but I don't know where," he said. "I'll need you to guide us, if you can."
"I can, but you shouldn't need me to." Lukas pointed to a nearby overhang of rock, just higher than a man's head. It was in a strange shape, and as Otto took a step closer, he saw the side was all carved into the likeness of a dire wolf skull.
"Follow the skulls?" Otto asked, thinking of the other two he'd seen. "How much farther is it, though?"
"If we leave soon, we can get there before the evening's close."
Otto had a better sense of direction after Lukas’s advice, but the winding path was still not easy to follow. Riding was out of the question, so the reindeer had to be led while the dogs were impatient. The vegetation grew thinner but never disappeared entirely, fireweed and rowan trees growing in cracks in stone and the uncommon patches of dirt. The farther they went, the more skulls appeared on the rock around them, ranging dramatically in size and species. The trail curved around the mountain, ascending steeply at times, though they were still far from the mountain's peak.
The fire-deep hues of the sinking sun swept the sky by the time the path's end was in sight. It ended in a large landing, like a platform, carved into the rock. As they approached, Otto saw that it lay outside the mouth of a cave—a mouth carved with hundreds of skulls.
Deer, ducks, boars, shrikes, owls, rabbits, humans, trolls, mice—and many, many more species that Otto could not recognize by skull alone—were represented in the carvings. Several feet back into the mountainside, set among the horde of skulls, was a great wooden door, reinforced with iron and marked with only a metal knocker. Otto strode forward and lifted it, then let it clang down. He waited a moment, then repeated it twice.
Behind Otto, some of the warriors shifted nervously. Other than Lukas, none had been here before, and no one had much of an idea of what to expect.
"What if nobody's home?" Rolf muttered. "Or the mad priests of death decide we don't meet some arcane requirement for entry?"
"Then I stab you and leave you as a blood sacrifice, see if that gets the door open," Britta replied.
A loud creaking noise stopped the bickering short, and all eyes locked on the door. It swung open to reveal a torchlit passageway, the stone ceiling black with soot, and two maroon-robed priests. On either side of them, standing so close to the wall and so still that at first glance Otto had assumed they were statues, were guards with curved swords and skeletal helmets.
"Welcome." The two priests stepped forward; Otto couldn't tell which one was speaking. Their heavy hoods and the dim lighting obscured their faces. "What brings you warriors to Skullmont?"
"I am Lord Otto Johanson, Prince of Thunderhill," Otto said. He bowed, erring on the side of formality. "My companions and I seek Noll's guidance. We would be grateful for shelter for the night as well."
"Welcome, Otto of Thunderhill, and companions. Shelter for the night, we can gladly provide. And within you may find Noll's guidance as well, but please, come inside. You may bring your reindeer as well, but take care they don't spook."
"Thank you." Otto felt uneasy, between the lack of introduction from the priests, their genial but vague response, and the shadowy corridor that loomed ahead. Monsters on the battlefield were frightening, but in a way he understood. This utter uncertainty about what lay ahead was quite different. But he smiled and led Leif, and the rest of his party behind him, down the hallway after the priests.
The corridor was only a few minutes' walk before it opened into a large, stone-hewn hall. The walls were undecorated but for giant ribs carved in intervals, mirrored by decorative pillars of the same design, curving in from the entrance and around both sides. There were passageways on either side, and a great stone altar on a dais ahead of them. The ceiling here was sooty as well from innumerable torches streaming smoke, with a few little ventilation holes. As the warriors moved into the room and shifted closer, Otto saw the altar was clean and polished, but darkly stained.
One of the priests went down the left corridor, and the other beckoned them to the center of the room. The reindeer neighed nervously, noise faintly echoing through the chamber. There were no other priests or guards in sight; the emptiness felt unnerving.
"He's going to fetch the bishop, who will speak to you about the guidance you're seeking," the remaining priest said. Now, in better lighting, Otto could see the lower half of his face. It was unremarkable, milky skin and a graying beard. Otto felt slightly better seeing he wasn't some inhuman wraith or demon. He wasn't sure what he’d expected, and wished he'd probed Lukas more before they’d set foot here.
"Thank you," Otto said. "Is there a stable we could bring our reindeer to?"
The man smiled, which Otto didn't find reassuring. He didn't like being inside this rock room, the smell all mold and soot, some moldering hint of decay and death under it.
"Of course," the priest replied. "We can take them there for you. The bishop will be here shortly, and you won't want to miss him." Perhaps seeing the doubt on Otto's face, the priest added, "Rest assured, your animals will be well cared for."
"I'm sure," Otto said. "That would be appreciated."
No one else spoke, just continued to stand and wait, occasionally shooting each other uncertain glances. Otto kept his own doubts out of sight—if not out of mind—as the hounds sniffed around the stained altar. Blood sacrifices were not practiced in Thunderhill; blood was only to be shed on purpose in the heat of battle or in the hard work of green sorcery. There were tales of other burgs practicing such rites, but none were reputable, or so Otto had long thought. But here, though the priests were unfailingly polite, was clear evidence that something—or someone—was killed ceremoniously in Noll's honor. The thought made his skin crawl.
Otto knew he wasn't the only one thinking about the altar, the juxtaposition of seemingly helpful holy men and foreboding architecture. Even Rolf was subdued, trying to act calm but visibly nervous. Lukas looked grim, though unfazed.
The departed priest returned with several others in the same robes, and one taller figure in white, presumably the bishop. The new priests approached the group, silently taking the reins of the reindeer. Otto watched Leif escorted out with the other mounts, feeling uneasy. The dogs remained, pacing nervously. The priest who'd stayed nodded approvingly, then left with the rest as the bishop took his place by the altar.
"Welcome to Skullmont, warriors," he said. His voice rolled through the room like the rumble of an incoming storm, his gray beard thick and braided with skull beads. "I am Sigrid Boson, servant of Noll, Bishop of Skullmont. I hear that you have come to seek shelter from the night, and guidance from our god."
"I am Lord Otto Johanson, Prince of Thunderhill. We thank you for your hospitality, as we do indeed need shelter for the night. And yes, we are in need of guidance from Noll." Otto paused, not sure if it was appropriate to spell out their troubles immediately, or whether there was more rigmarole the priests required.
Fortunately, Sigrid prompted him. "Please, tell me what troubles you, so that I may consider how best to advise you in your search for guidance."
"We seek Ursa Magnus, the great beast. He slew many in our burg, and has slain more since. If we do not bring him down before seasons change, he will disappear to hibernate, and we will not see him again until he returns for his revenge years or decades from now. We followed his trail east, but lost it before we reached the mountains. We hoped Noll in his great wisdom would bless us with a sense of direction, so we may find Ursa and bring his rightful time to him."
"A considerable request," Sigrid said. "But not an insurmountable one. Noll does not offer without taking, but sup with us, and we will discuss the matter and see if we can come to an arrangement that benefits all, and brings balance of life and death."
"We would be honored to sup with you," Otto said. An arrangement that benefits all and balance of life and death rang in his ears like ill omens, but he did not waver. None of the gods gave something for nothing, and the means to slay one of the great monsters was worth a steep price indeed.
*~*~*
Dinner was held in a large mess hall, the walls and curved ceiling decorated with nothing more than torches. The furniture was all carved of stone, unassuming at first glance. A few dozen priests sat at tables nearby, but more tables beyond were unset and empty. As the warriors filed in, the hounds ran to the empty space to play, chasing each other and sniffing for scraps.
Otto sat first beside Sigrid, quietly pleased when Lukas took the other seat next to him as the rest of the party filled the benches. As he made himself comfortable, however, Otto noticed that the tables, wrought directly out of the foundation of the room, had their corners carved into bony knobs and kneecaps.
Black-robed acolytes brought in wet, warm squares of fabric to clean their faces and hands. It was nothing compared to a sauna, but Otto relished in removing some of his accumulated grime before digging into supper. Next, the acolytes brought out the meal: bowls of mushroom and garlic stew, bread- and celery- stuffed white caps, and simmered chanterelles with juniper. Otto was unclear on whether the abundance of fungus was a matter of necessity or religious tradition. Thank Orvar the wine, though more sour than sweet, was not mushroom-based as well, and that some bones were provided for the dogs.
Based on what Sigrid had said, Otto expected the meal to be an opportunity to further detail their situation and negotiate the divine assistance, but his hesitant attempts to do so were swiftly derailed. Instead, Sigrid pointedly talked of mundane things instead. How was the weather in Thunderhill this time of year? How did they like their supper? How was the path up the mountain, and did they have any trouble with their mounts?
Most of the warriors seemed wary of Sigrid, and of the whole situation. Lukas didn't appear to share their concern, eating heartily but quietly, no more or less terse than he usually was. Otto wished he'd asked earlier why Lukas had been here before, minding his own matters be damned, but now certainly wasn't the time to inquire. Lukas's calmness reassured Otto slightly, but the visible discomfort of the others resonated with him too.
Cori looked particularly uneasy, while Petra and Britta talked stiltedly with occasional interruptions from Rolf. Only Elov didn't seem to mind the morbid setting at all. As Sigrid tried to address others in the group, Elov was the one who stepped up to chatter, using every bit of his oily tact to compliment the fungus-filled meal, the rockwork, and the "unparalleled aesthetic" of Skullmont.
Only when the plates had been cleared and the priests shuffled out of the room did Otto, impatience mounting, directly address the matter that had brought them here.
"I thank you again for this hearty and much-needed meal," Otto began.
"Much appreciated," Elov chimed in.
"Now that we have supped, might we return to the matter of Noll's guidance?" he continued.
"Ah yes," Sigrid replied, as if it had merely slipped his mind. "We will return to the main sanctuary then. Unless you would prefer to rest first?"
"No, thank you." Further delay was the last thing Otto wanted.
"As you wish." Sigrid rose. "And please, all of you must join us." He swept the table with his smile, lingering on Cori, who blanched. Otto resisted the desire to slap the expression off Sigrid's face, resenting that the bishop seemed not just indifferent but pleased by the group's unease.
They returned to the sanctuary with their hounds. A giant rug of stitched animal skins was laid out across the floor where they'd been standing earlier. A single copper-red pelt sat before it, near the altar. Sigrid took his place on the dire fox fur, settling down cross-legged. Otto and the warriors trod onto the rug and sat in varying positions, Bitty curling up next to Otto. It was only slightly less uncomfortable than sitting a bare stone floor.
"I am sure many of you are here seeking vengeance," Sigrid said. "Or pursuing some sense of justice, or a restoration of balance between predator and prey, man and animal, life and death. Noll has seen your dead, as he sees all dead, and has welcomed them into his embrace. He cannot right past wrongs, nor soften the pain of your losses. Those things, if you believe them achievable, are up to you, and your other gods.
"You seek the trail of Ursa Magnus, to find his path and his lair, so that you may slay him." Sigrid paused, and Otto realized he was supposed to agree, so he replied affirmatively. "You have doubtlessly heard tales of other warriors coming to Noll in times of need, when prospects against Thea's monstrous children were bleak and growing bleaker. Noll has no more nor less love for Thea's children than Gyda's or Anya's, yet it is Thea's that may live unnaturally long lives and defy Noll's call. As such, as an earthly delegate of Noll, I have heard your request, and I will speak to Noll on your behalf, if you are willing to pay his price."
Otto nodded again. He didn't like this man, or this place at all, but he had no better options. He was wary, but trusted that Noll could aid them, and was not fool enough to think he could avoid paying the price.
"The cycle of life and death will continue," said Sigrid. "Life begets death, and death begets life. What you seek is the death of a monster, but more than that, it is the promise of life. Life for all who still live in Thunderhill, and all of Tegland. Life for your husbands, your wives, your children. Life for your reindeer and sheep, your geese and ducks, your bountiful fields and game-filled forests. To protect the life you so value, Noll asks that you bring him meaningful death."
Sigrid pulled himself onto one knee and beckoned. Otto was immediately offended—this whole affair was strange enough, and now Sigrid was calling him like a dog? But Bitty trotted over to Sigrid, and Otto realized it was the dog that Sigrid wanted. Fear pierced his heart. His dog meant less than the livelihood of Thunderhill, by a great deal, but he did not want her to die in this hard place at the hands of a stranger.
Sigrid drew no knife, nor grabbed her throat. Bitty sat beside him without direction, in an uncanny show of obedience to a stranger, and Sigrid gently laid a hand upon her head.
"Along with the raven, the kell hound is held sacred to Noll. In the realms of the gods, Noll maintains his own pack of one hundred and forty-four hounds who serve as his noses to track and bring down those ready to die. I can tell that this dog and your others have served you well, though not yet well enough."
Otto did not look away, but he could only imagine Cori trying not to wince, and the look of dread cracking across Viggo's face. He took some reassurance in thinking that Lukas must be as stoic as ever, and kept his own poise even as his heart raced.
"I can call a blessing upon your hounds, to fill their noses with the scent of Ursa and their hearts with the burning desire to find him no matter how many miles from you he may be. They will lead you to wherever he is, no matter how far he has gone. Which I suspect will not be terribly far, given that you have injured him enough to drive him back to the east from which he came. He is probably in his home territory, seeking easier prey to build his strength before winter. But note that when so hurt, he may retire to his den early, and once he is inside and ready to sleep, you will not be able to get to him."
Each word brought more hope to Otto, but he tempered his expectations. He didn't expect to get Noll's favor for nothing, and as it stood, the blessing sounded too good to be true.
"The blessing you describe sounds like a great boon, and one which would provide us the guidance we need," Otto agreed. "As you say, life must be paid for with death, so I must ask: What would Noll require from us in exchange for this blessing of our hounds?"
"For the blessing he gives to your hounds, whom he favors, to safeguard the lives of many, Noll would take the offering of equally beloved creatures."
The reindeer.
"I understand." Otto thought quickly, not wanting to delay, nor to appear uncertain in front of the warriors. He cared for Leif, whom he had ridden for many seasons, and he knew that many of the others had even stronger bonds with their mounts. Kennet would be devastated. But more importantly, in this dire time, without the reindeer, they would be forced to pursue Ursa on foot, carrying their own gear.
Without Noll's help, however, they were directionless. And as strange as Skullmont was, and as little as Otto liked this bishop, Otto trusted the gods. And Lukas's recommendation.
"We understand the seriousness of this gift, and we would offer our eleven reindeer mounts in sacrifice to Noll, should that please him," said Otto evenly.
To their credit, not a single one in the party made a noise of questioning or discontent, though Otto knew not all would have so clearly agreed. Sigrid grinned beneath his hood, and scratched Bitty behind her ear.
"Once you make the sacrifice to Noll, the hounds will not be content to stay in this place," said Sigrid. "They will rest little until you confront Ursa Magnus. As such, we will perform the sacrifice tomorrow, after you are rested and ready to go on your way."
Sigrid lifted his hand from Bitty, and she looked at him quizzically, and abruptly sneezed before running back to Otto's side.
"Your quarters are ready," Sigrid said, rising, "but should any of you wish to pay your respects to the fallen warriors here, brave souls who were refused a place of honor in any burg, I will lead you down to the Hall of Reverence."
Otto glanced around at his companions. The somber expression Lukas had held since they walked through the doors of Skullmont was still firmly affixed. Cori was pale but maintaining her composure. The deep lines in Viggo's frown made him look older, elderly, and Peder stood close beside him, along with Kennet, who couldn't disguise the anger in his eyes as he looked at Otto.
"I would like that," Petra said, stepping forward. Sigrid nodded, apparently pleased.
There were murmurs among the group, and Otto saw Britta and Lukas exchange hushed words.
"And I," said Lukas. Otto's curiosity was piqued; he had a feeling somehow that Lukas had been waiting for this.
Sigrid led the two of them down a staircase, while a priest came to take the rest of the party to the baths, provided another round of beer, and showed them their dormitory. Their dormitory, while sparse, at least had wooden beds instead of more stone. Otto went through the motions of bathing and drinking, but he kept wondering if Lukas would find whatever he was looking for in the Hall of Reverence.
*~*~*
By the time Lukas and Petra returned to their shared dormitory, Otto felt near ready to collapse. Most of the others were already in their beds, save for Kennet, Viggo, and Peder who were spending the night beside the reindeer they would be mourning tomorrow. Petra made a beeline for her own bed, but Lukas lingered by the torchlit washbasins, taking his time cleaning his face and hands.
Otto hung back, wanting to talk with Lukas but unsure if his company was desired. He sat on the bench by the door and combed his beard and hair, until Lukas turned around and made eye contact with him. There was no annoyance in Lukas's eyes, but instead, what Otto couldn't help but read as a sort of sad longing. They regarded each other for a moment, and then Lukas went over and joined Otto on the bench. Otto could feel the pluck of his heartstrings as Lukas sat close, closer than they'd been to each other since they’d had their swords locked in the tournament.
"Tyr fell to a firfiend," Lukas said, looking not at Otto, but at the torch flickering on the opposite wall. "We'd wed less than a month before. It was in the summer, soon after the solstice festivities ended, still within sight of Hoartower's walls. Some archers had gone out to hunt…" Lukas's voice trailed off. He swallowed once, a distant, sad look in his eyes, then picked up again.
"He fought valiantly. He had fought off wolves and trolls before, bandits and rival bands. He'd placed in the ax tournament only days before. But Hoartower wouldn't let a nomad warrior into its mausoleum, not unless he had both died within its walls and in the glory of a well-fought battle. The crypt keeper told me he had done neither.
"I'd heard of Skullmont from the stories. Few made the journey to petition the priests to let their fallen loved one be included within, but it had been done. My band didn't agree, didn't want to lose me to the trip, and was too thinned by the attack to send anyone with me. They voted against us all going. So I left in the night, alone on my reindeer, and brought Tyr’s skull here so his memory might rest in a place of honor, not just in my own heart."
"May Tyr rest in honor until the end of days," Otto said. He placed a hand on Lukas's upper arm, carefully, then heartily as Lukas leaned into his touch. "I'm sure he was a great warrior."
"He was." Lukas turned to look at Otto. He was not crying, but moisture glimmered in the corners of his eyes.
"I've never been wed," Otto said. "But I was ready to offer my heart in betrothal once. A lad my own age, who'd been my lover for some time. Rasmus." His name was still hard to say, yet there was some relief, some healing, in speaking it again. "He was killed by a sorcerer in a raid three years ago."
"Rasmus rest in honor," Lukas said quietly. He took his other hand and placed it on top of Otto's on his arm. "I've been no friend to burg dwellers, since the injustice against Tyr. But for risk of sounding like a poet, I'm finding my heart softening, even in this trying time. Life without passion is hollow, and the flame sparked by being wronged is not the one I wish to carry for the rest of my days."
"I thought my heart to be extinguished after I lost Rasmus. But I too have found that dwelling in such emptiness is not where I wish to be for the rest of my days. It would honor him more to live fully, for any day we could die."
Otto placed his other hand upon Lukas's, his long-fingered hands warm to the touch, each of them leaning in toward the other. Neither spoke as Otto reflected that such death could be sooner rather than later. All the better to spend it in the arms of a fellow warrior, someone he could trust with his body and his life, than to spend it solo trying to make his own way through a blizzard of loneliness.
Too tired to think of doing more, Otto held Lukas until he started, realizing he'd begun to fall asleep on the bench. Reluctantly, he squeezed Lukas's arm firmly, and then withdrew to his bed. For all that lay ahead of them, Otto felt relief knowing that his feelings for Lukas were not, after all, misplaced or unwanted.