The death of Satres did not end the problems for the invaders of the castle. Shouts and the sounds of horns were heard, sending the group fleeing across the battlements to a corner of the Citadel. From there, they descended the circular staircase to another level. As they poured out of the stairwell, they ran into a small group of guards led by Ircia.
“Surrender!” the man demanded.
“That's not going to happen,” Urith shouted. “Your Sacred Overlord is dead of his own hand. We are leaving as we have duties elsewhere. Stand away, and we will leave peacefully.”
While some of the guards relaxed their stance slightly, Ircia remained unconvinced. “You play an old trick. The Sacred Overlord remains within our walls, under our protection. “
“He's telling the truth,” Narslac insisted, keeping Urith from challenging the guards further. “Come Ircia, you know me. My Skalds and I have drunk with you in the village below. We tell you the truth. Satres went crazy and threw himself from the top of the Citadel. Your guard saw him pass running to the battlements.”
“What you say may be correct, but I need proof. I cannot let the killers of the Sacred Overlord escape now.” The leader of the guards pointed to his other guards who came down the tunnel behind the small group of invaders. Mivraa and Fedelm turned to face them, but they were trapped.
“Very well, let me reassure you. We had arrived before the sun set yesterday. Do you have men missing from before that time?” Narslac asked. Ircia stood up from his crouch, nodding.
“Aye, several of our men have disappeared.”
“Then, let me take you to the hidden chambers where the sidhera sits, holding corpses of your missing men along with two of the Aberffraw council members. Will that convince you?” The one-armed man sheathed his sword and walked toward Ircia, who nodded and did the same.
“I will follow you with some of my guards. The rest will wait here for our return. Lead me to this place you speak of.”
Narslac turned back to Urith, giving him a broad grin. “I told you I was needed.”
Urith shook his head at the jest and grunted, “Just don’t forget to return. You can find heathmead after we leave.”
After the Skald and leader of the guards left, Urith gave a grudging smirk to Mivraa. “He's right, we did need him.”
~~~
Deep in the Sky Realm, Ecarca was nearly finished with his work. The energy required for his work drained him by the end of the day. Now, as he looked over the clay figures, the god did so with a sense of satisfaction. Thousands of the statues stretched along the Exyts, each human shaped piece a copy of the next. The army of hardened clay figures was made in his image and Kamin's god of rock and earth was quite pleased with himself. It was a grand clay army. All that was left would be the power of the magical waters and the right spells to control the warriors of his creation.
Ecarca smiled to himself when he thought of how he duped the spirit of Caestia. To think the ghost of a human would believe himself smarter than a god was the highest of folly. In his eyes, the statue army surpassed any of the great temples built by the people on Kamin. Soon, he would transform them into the finest warriors since in the realms. Impervious to pain and fear, his legions would set things right throughout the realms. When he took control of the domains, the god of soil and rock decided he would send Caestia to reside inside the throne of Caruun. It would teach the human spirit some manners.
But, first Ecarca needed to refresh himself after the taxing efforts of the day. As the god moved toward the stream of waters that immortality to the gods, he heard a voice.
“The sprites were correct; you have been busy.” Dughorm silently flew on the breeze, stopping next to one of the statues. The god watched the oracle inspect his work, resenting his presence but vain enough to want affirmation of his grand masterpiece.
“Yes, despite that lucky shot from the human, my weakened state does not stop me from creating perfection.”
Dughorm nodded as he dusted the shoulder of the statue. “I can see your superior capabilities. Only a god could create such exceptional fighters. Soon, you shall have a force to be reckoned with. Duwdamon must be quite pleased to lead such an army into the underworld.”
Ecarca scoffed lightly as he disrobed. “My father makes amends, not war. I will give life and lead these creatures.” The naked god strode to the middle of the narrow stream to lay in the chilling waters. As he let the water's powers return his strength, he glanced at Dughorm who walked to another statue.
“I see you have decided to follow the visions. That is good.” The spirit looked over at the god who turned his head toward the sky. Dughorm quickly pushed an amulet of inscribed metal on the cloak of the clay, just like all the others. It left the impression of the word, regaligc. The God’s oracle smiled to himself at the irony of word’s meaning. Sacred was not a term he associated with the Sky Realm now.
“Tell me more of this vision, oracle. You have not spoken to me of such a vision.” Ecarca spoke suddenly, causing the spirit to quickly turn back to the stream, hiding the amulet from the god’s view.
“That is because your father dismisses such things in the many times I’ve tried to help. It is most distressing since my sole purpose is to serve the gods. Your guidance would be valuable.”
Ecarca kept his focus on the sky, his words were careful. “That is because my father and I don't always see things the same way. He sits in the temple, rather than forcing the humans to give him the Skool. It is a weakness to rely on others when you have the power.”
The oracle nodded, carefully avoiding a smirk at the way the god spoke. Dughorm knew only threats from Duwdamon forced the god floating in the water to go after the Skool in the first place.
“So I understand. Well, it's quite simple actually. The visions I've seen show a strong leader taking the helm of an imposing army of stone. The Realms will tremble at the battle which will ensue, bring a new world,” the seer told the god honestly.
Ecarca sat up, the bluish hue of his skin returning as the water dripped from his long hair. “Your words interest me. Tell me more.”
“I see the vast army sweeping out the monsters of the underworld. New masters appear as well. But this dream was not clear. You must remember, these visions are vague, not sufficiently clear as the participants help control the events.” Dughorm continued to appear distracted by the next statue he floated to.
Ecarca said nothing but his face carried a sudden determination. Refreshed, the god lifted himself from the water, pulling the finely spun robe back over his body. Head down in thought, the god of the rocks left Dughorm who pushed the amulet impression into the next statue. The oracle smiled as he hummed the ancient warrior song.
~~~
As Urith and his comrades finally left the Citadel, Mivraa was missing again. Fedelm made a smart remark about how that was normal, and the Esterblud just grunted. However, his attention was on the winding road from the port which showed many riders on ossanes galloping to the fortress. When he recognized the warrior tunics, the Esterblud let out an oath, cursing what else might go wrong. The rider’s tunics and hats meant assassins. He was about to reach for his shield slung over his back, but Fedelm's sharp eyes caught sight of the lead rider. It was Brihar wearing his green tunic. To everyone's surprise, the Gramcle clan leader was followed closely by a band of Fealharans wearing their notorious tunics and brown leather bowl helmets with thick protective leather flaps. The assassins were highly skilled with a bow and knife.
“Did you save any for us to deal with?” Brihar asked grimly when he arrived. His sword showed drying blood.
Perplexed, Urith waited until more of the fighters came close. He noticed some Esterbluds and Eran clan members, along with the Gramcle tribe as well. Their clothes bore the bloodstains of recent fighting as well.
“You surprise me, Brihar. There is nothing here for you. Satres is dead.”
The short, stout man smiled. “That is only one head of the serpent. Since we landed in the port, we have already disposed of the Ynyover allies of the Aberffraw. We now follow Lyncus who still lives. Those Ynyover dung eaters who gave him shelter will pay as well. Once we burn out these vermin within the Citadel, we go after Lyncus.”
“Allied with Fealharan?” Narslac asked, surprised as Urith at the sudden alliance of Esterblud and the assassins.
“The Aberffraw leader owes us a debt, and we will get repayment.” One of the death creepers in the brown tunic spoke up.
“I’m Skart,” the man told Urith. “Your leader Brihar realized the mutual benefit of our combined forces.”
Urith stepped next to Brihar, giving Skart a sneer. “I smell Malhair guild behind your interest now.” He turned to his friend. “Revenge is not the answer.” Those remaining in the Citadel are not loyal to Satres or Lyncus. Such people are long gone. Those left remain faithful to the code we follow.”
Brihar scoffed. “Those we just battled were loyal to the serpent. They were wearing the clothes of the enemy.”
Still filled with the lust of battle, some of the men who surrounded small group began to push close. As they muttered threats and catcalls, some of the Fealharan bandits agitated the situation with their shouts of revenge. Brihar tried to restore order over the din. Warriors, who were just allies earlier, started to shove and jostle those who spoke up for Brihar or Skart. At one point, a Fealharan who tried to push by the Clovel Destroyer made a fatal error. By pressing his ossane close to Urith, the mount and its rider came against Urith's shield.
The surge of electrical power went through man and beast, sending out a shockwave. The small blast threw Urith forward into Brihar's mount, knocking him to the ground. Nearby, men fell from their mounts when their ossanes panicked, trying to scramble away from the explosion of energy. The rest of those nearest the god’s weapon scattered.
Urith jumped to his feet with the Shield of Skool now attached to his injured arm. Banging his Clovel Sword on the shield, sparks flew across the area. The men around him carefully watched the spectacle.
“Pitshogs and calwards, you disgrace Heptarc’s death. Each of you just kissed the ass of the underworld gods by your actions. “
The giant warrior jumped on top of the dead ossane’s body which still smoldered. His eyes were ablaze with a touch of madness. “The Skool is now whole, and the power of the gods resides here with me alone. If one more warrior fails to heed my directions, I will turn you into dust now.” He slowly turned the shield at the men while they stared at the deadly object. The Esterblud recognized the mix of fear and awe in most of their faces as they recalled the stories of the weapon in his hands.
“This shield is now Regaligc.” Urith initially used the term for Sacred for those might oppose him. “My mission comes from the Fates to restore the balance to the realms. It is not a burden I wanted. But, no man,” he stopped and gave his death grin to the leaders he recognized among the group around him. “I say no man will stop me from ending the chaos that descends upon the lands. I don’t care about vengeance and revenge against the Aberffraw or Cahmais or any other tribe. The monsters which come from the underworld will be happy to destroy you and your families while you bicker among yourself. Only the Skool can allow us to survive the coming onslaught from the underworld.”
He swung his sword across the shield one more time, sending another burst of sparks around him, causing the circle to retreat a few paces. “Now, together we can set things right in Ynyover. But this means we start by ruling as just people, not petty tyrants thirsting for blood.”
Urith pointed to Brihar. “You are my friend, but you’ve forgotten your people helped build this fortress. I ask you. Do you want to destroy it or make it be something worthy of the Gramcle? Do you follow in the footsteps of Joenhip or not?”
The short, stout man in the green tunic looked down, his face turned red at the chastising given by Urith. The crowd around him waited. Finally, Brihar looked at his people. “Urith speaks the truth. None of our clan would lead in destroying the Citadel.” He turned back to Urith. “But they wish for the head of Lyncus and his followers on pikes like many of our relatives and friends.”
There was a murmur of agreement in the crowd as they slowly moved closer. Urith stepped down and stepped over to Brihar. “In this, you and I have a common cause. The Gramcles, like all within the Esterblud lands, are justified in seeking the men who invaded. Just like those in Ynyover who suffered as well. Now put away your weapons, and we can hunt down Lyncus.”
Brihar nodded and ordered his men to put away their swords and spears. As they slowly complied, Urith spoke up to all.
“Time presses against us. We must find his path and move quickly before Lyncus returns to Cahmais.” He looked around at the warriors. “If he returns to his lands, we don’t have enough people gathered to get him out of there.”
Brihar quickly agreed, making sure to cut off any hesitation among those he brought to Ynyover. “I say Urith is right. Let us cut off the Aberffraw by going through the highlands?”
Urith smiled. “That’s a good idea. Don’t forget, many Ynyover suffered under the Aberffraws. Let us try to get their support to help us. Is that agreed?”
Brihar looked at his followers. “I’m in agreement. Warriors of Esterblud, Eran, and Gramcle, you will follow Urith and me, or you will return home.” Then, he rode slowly in front of his fighters, making sure each looked at him to agree.
Urith sheathed his sword as he spoke to Skart, “What say the Fealharan leader? If you join us, you follow our path.”
“As long as Lyncus pays, we follow you.” The man's thin face remained expressionless.
“I thought as much. The guild is paying well.” The Esterblud replied bitterly as he watched Mivraa pushed her way through, bringing Urith an ossane for the journey.
“I made my way to the other side of the Citadel while you were showing off you speaking skills. If you want to follow Lyncus, I know the route he took.”
Urith nodded, suddenly realizing they were short two ossanes. He gave Mivraa a glance remembering only one mount went lame. However, the demigoddess paid no attention as she got on her mount. The warrior saw Fedelm fuming at the intentional slight by Mivraa. The woman whispered to Narslac about the lack of mounts, and the stout man’s face was dark at the thought of being left behind as well.
Urith called out to Brihar. “My friend, do you have spare ossanes for my group? Apparently, we had two go lame on the other side of the Citadel.”
“Yes, I'll have a man bring them. The dead in the port will not need them any longer.” There was grim laughter at the joke.
“Actually, let me get them. I just realized that I need to go to the Malhair House first,” Urith gave a grin as an idea came to mind. He pulled himself on the ossane and held out a hand to Fedelm. “Come, I'll need your help on this matter. You can bring back an ossane for Narslac.”
The blond woman smiled, then pointed out his deadly shield on his back. The Esterblud warrior pulled off his shield, hooking it to his saddle and Fedelm joined him on the back of the beast. The Esterblud waved Mivraa and Narslac toward him after a quick conversation with Brihar. He noticed the demigoddess hesitated at first before finally walking back to his group.
“Brihar agrees to leave some of his men here,” Urith informed them. “The rest of the fighters will join us to hunt down Lyncus.”
“I'll make sure that my men work with this Ircia who runs the fortress now. We should have no problems. However, I don't think a few fighters can patrol the town and port.” The stocky Gramcle leader told them.
“I agree. That's why I'm heading down to see the guild. I'll send word to my brother for him to join us here with men. He is the perfect man to help rebuild this place.” Urith replied.
“You old bater, you're up to something,” Brihar exclaimed.
“Just a thought,” the Esterblud shifted in his saddle. “Pehnuwick knows many leaders throughout Kamin, and he has a reputation as a fair man. I will get him to come here and help the Citadel. What do you think?”
“It's risky. Can Wilgam and Oslaf handle Esterblud without his help?” The Gramcle leader replied.
“You’re probably right about that. However, it would be only long enough to get the satgerts gathered for a new Sacred Overlord. He can bring help to guide Ircia who leads the Citadel’s defenders. I think Ircia is a good man.”
“It makes sense. You will need to hurry, it will grow dark soon, and we need to go after the Aberffraw now,” Brihar reminded him.
Fedelm leaned over to whisper in Urith's ear who nodded. “I like that.” The warrior looked over at Mivraa. “You know Lyncus's route. Can we catch up by using another trail?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Fedelm. “Yes, over the old trail that runs through Ynysbeag. The same way you took to find Dughorm.”
“Then, the goddess of Haligulf should lead the way for Brihar and the Fealharans. I will speak with the guild leaders and catch up.” Some of the men around Urith, including Narslac, spoke up in support of the idea.
Grudgingly, Mivraa accepted. She turned her ossane to the trail and spurred the animal forward. “Alright you warriors, see if you can keep up.”
Soon, the sound of hooves filled the air as the men scrambled, racing away to catch their guide. Brihar and Urith exchanged knowing smiles before the Clovel Destroyer turned his ossane to the port.
“Stay here, and we'll bring you a mount from the harbor,” Urith told Narslac who nodded.
As they rode away, Fedelm leaned close. “Thanks for taking my suggestion. She seems to want you alone for some reason. I don't trust her anymore.” She paused, “I mean, she's never betrayed us, but I know she would slit my throat if you weren't around.”
Urith grunted. “I have my suspicions about her as well. But I cannot tell her to stay out of this now. Besides she is still valuable. I suspect she is our only link for getting into the other realms.”
“But you know humans cannot go into the other realms,” the woman reminded him.
“Says who? The gods,” Urith scoffed, turning quiet as the mount came upon one of the dead Ynyover comitatus fighters who stood against Briahr's men earlier.
“This chaos must be stopped,” Fedelm said somberly. “It's clear that humans piling up the dead are just adding to the hordes of the underworld. But I don't think this Kriell is intent on destroying our world. Otherwise, wouldn't he have already sent them out of the realm into ours?”
“I think Dughorm was showing us more than just the underworld,” Urith told her as he spurred the ossane past the body. “The Skool is now complete. Once we get Lyncus, then I believe I will be entering the underworld with the shield. At least, that's what I think I saw in the dreams.”
“I wish he was here to tell us.” The woman confided in him.
“You hakras are supposed to know it all.” He laughed at his own joke until she gave him a friendly slap on the back of his head.
Stopping at the Malhair House, the pair saw several of labors and sailors taking the bodies of the dead to the beach. Urith walked to the small hut used by the guild as Fedelm followed. Inside, they found an ancient man sat behind a single table. He didn't bother to look up at the visitors as he read a scroll in front of him.
“We are closed. Take your business elsewhere, Clovel Destroyer.”
Urith's eye's narrowed. In the blink of an eye, he took a long step while he whipped out his Sagrian dagger. Slamming the tip of the weapon through the parchment held between the ancient man's hands, the Esterblud growled out his reply.
“Messenger, take this to Kaoden and Rordan. They will send a message to all of the kingdoms stating the Sacred Overlord is dead, and the guild will ask for all loyal satgerts leadership to return to Ynyover to determine a new leader. Remind your masters that if they fail to comply with this, I will make it my mission to destroy this guild, starting with this place.”
The old man's hands were visibly shaking when Urith removed the dagger.
“Now little man, since I know you dine on koinons, I will pay you to send a messenger to my brother, Pehnuwick. No doubt, you can figure out he is in Eran. You will tell him to come to the Citadel in Ynyover.”
“Is...that all?” The ancient one asked softly.
Urith gave him his death sneer. “If you do that, I'll have no need to remove your head.” The warrior threw the last of his money on the table. “Now leave and do your job.” With surprising speed, the little man scampered out the door.
“You were a little hard on him,” Fedelm commented. “You just needed to throw down a few koinons.”
“It made me feel better,” the Esterblud replied derisively. “These people remind me of vensars, always squawking even with they get the largest pieces of the carcass. Let's go find an ossane for you and Narslac. I don't want to let Brihar and Mivraa decide the fate of our friend Lyncus if they catch him.”
After retrieving the mounts and scavenging some of the food bags from the docks, the group rode hard. When their beasts became winded on the narrow, twisting climb through the back trail, the riders dismounted and pulled them along to keep up the pace.
They reached the village of Ynysbeag; the first thing they noticed only charred remains of the stone signal tower on the outskirts of the village. Used to communicate to the Citadel, Urith guessed the Aberffraw came this way, leaving their mark with the destruction. As they followed the trail into the small town, the scenes of death and destruction greeted them. Now, with the enemy hurrying back to Cahmais, the rabble was quickly executing people and leaving only the largest buildings burned. The residents were able to save some of the nearby structures. The remaining residents peered out cautiously from behind the buildings at the trio coming through.
“Why?” Fedelm stopped her ossane suddenly at one of the dead men laying in the street. She recognized the body of Wiclam, the little man who guided her to Dughorm when they arrived at the village after joining with Urith. It seemed like ages ago that the little man tried steered her to the old blind man. She looked at Urith when he guided his mount next to hers. Narslac peeled away to one of the villager's he recognized.
“I recognize him,” the Clovel Destroyer
told Fedelm.
“The Aberffraw are not much better than beorhs now. Come,
don't think about it. We'll have to check which trail they took.
Hopefully, we can get to them before they do this to another
village.”
As the pair started down the main trail, Narslac spurred his mount to catch them. “We're not far behind Brihar's men,” the Skald informed his companions. “The survivors told me that only a small group of Aberffraw came through earlier. They were just a few raiders who found this trail. It seems Lyncus has most of his men on the main road. The bandits who came through only bothered to carry off a few of the women after killing some of the elders who made the mistake of hanging around. The villagers suggested we could take a back trail to catch our people.”
“Fedelm and I know that route. Anything else?” The Esterblud turned his mount, leading them between some of the huts to the trail.
Narslac pulled a flask from his saddle, taking a drink. “I asked about the underworld monster, and they told me the local satgert is telling people to remain inside the temple at night, with guards at the entrance. For the moment, only their animals are getting slaughtered.”
“Well, at least that priest is smart. The temples are nearly always made of stone and narrow passages so easier to defend.”
“That’s true,” the Skald agreed. “However, I get the feeling the locals would be happy if both the Esterblud and Cahmais kingdoms were destroyed by the underworld.”
Urith grunted. “I can't say I blame them.”
“From what I've seen, I doubt that Kriell will show mercy to any side.” Fedelm offered ruefully as the trio went silent at her thought.
The darkness swiftly fell over the trio while they made their way down the treacherous path from Grimma to the main road toward Cahmais. By the time they reached the road, they could see nearby campfires. Unsure whether it was friend or foe near the camps, Urith left the group to investigate. Spying movement near the road, he saw the familiar colors of the guard's tunics and helmets. They were Brihar's men. The warrior retraced his steps back to his friends, and together, the group entered the camp. There were several campfires, but only one held the large tents of the leaders. Brihar came to them as they slid off their saddles.
“You made a good time. I wasn't expecting you until the sun rose.”
“We took a short cut. We were hoping we might find Lyncus here.” The Esterblud replied. “You have any idea how far ahead the Aberffraw are?”
The short, stout man gave him a grin. “Close enough to catch them before they can reach the border. My guess is, by the end of tomorrow, our scouts will have found them. The farmers and shepherds heard of the killings and enslavement by the Aberffraw. They are staying away, hiding in areas away from the main roads. While the Ynyover people don't like us, they are willing to give us information.”
Thinking back to the last village, Urith nodded. “Narslac found the same in Ynysbeag.”
“You should get some food and sleep. We will leave when the daylight appears.” Brihar said as he yawned.
Urith nodded, feeling an overwhelming weariness at the suggestion. Nearby, Fedelm and Narslac were already working on removing the packs, saddles, and blankets from their ossanes. Urith took Brihar by the shoulder, moving them away from the others.
“How are you getting along with Mivraa?” The giant Esterblud looked around. “By the way, where is she?”
The leader of the Gramcle shrugged his shoulders. “She took off just after dark. She's hard to figure out. One minute she’s a hard-driving leader, pushing the men on and cursing out those who are slacking. The next minute, we rest, and she eats alone, then takes off without a word.” Brihar sighed. “Such is the world of a demigoddess I guess.”
Urith nodded absently. “I suppose so. Let me know when she returns. I'll grab some food and sleep. If the weather holds we should move quickly.”
The morning light brought the demigoddess to the camp where the warriors were nearly finished packing their ossanes. Urith squatted by the campfire, chewing on dried meat while warming himself. Narslac and Fedelm were away, filling the water bags.
“I see you found your way back,” Urith observed the woman appeared exhausted. “You should have rested. We have a long journey today.”
Mivraa glared at him with bloodshot eyes. “That’s my business.”
The Esterblud stood as she came closer. “No, it's all of our business. Even a goddess needs sleep to stay sharp.” He noticed the bloodstains on some of her armor. “I'm hoping you found the enemy.”
Her eyes narrowed, then she looked at the stains. “Yes, I found some enemies. Don't worry; their spirits won't be going anywhere.”
Immediately, the giant fighter became suspicious. “With you and Wurms no longer filling Haligulf, there is no one left but the Vanths leading them to the underworld. We don't need more monsters. How about capturing them alive instead?”
Mivraa looked like she was about to say something, but she walked away to feed and water her ossane. Narslac and Fedelm returned, walking by the demigoddess who focused on her mount. Fedelm quietly told Urith that they saw Eran scouts gallop by, heading to Brihar. Urith forced himself to watch from a distance as the group of scouts spoke with their leader. The Esterblud finished his breakfast while keeping an eye on the conversation among the Gramcle fighters. Finally, Brihar got on his mount, trotting over to the Clovel Destroyer.
“My fighters have seen the Aberffraw camp about a half day ahead of us. If we move swiftly, we should be able to see them before the sun sets.”
Back on the road, the large group of fighters pushed their mounts hard as the followed the winding road. The thin forest on either side echoed with the sound of the cloven hoofs. Not far after they left their camp, they came upon a body in the road. It was a boy, younger than Oslaf, dressed in the blue tunic of the Aberffraw. However, his helmet had a pointed metal cap in the style of the comitatus within Ynyover wore. Brihar, riding next to Urith and Fedelm wondered aloud if it was one of the local militia's working for the Aberffraw. He was surprised since none of his men mentioned running into a scout of the enemy the day before. Urith glanced back at Mivraa who was staring at the body. The man spurred his mount forward.
Further up the road, they came upon the remains of merchant carts, still smoldering after being set on fire. Bodies beside the wagons were Ynyover traders. As they continued, the fighters came upon one small hamlet after another which held similar sights as the Aberffraw continued their murderous retreat to Cahmais.
When the warriors from Esterblud reached the outskirts of Yns Cearcal, the Great Circle, they came upon a band of Ynyover militia. At first, it appeared a battle between the two groups might break out. The blue tunics some of the Ynyover wore, and their steadfast defense of a trail leading to the Great Circle forced the Esterblud men to come to a stop. However, something in their manner caused Brihar to hold back his men. Urith with his comrades caught up as Brihar was talking with Skart, the Fealharan leader.
“They don't look to be asking for a fight, but we can't bypass them, leaving them to cut us off.” The stout Gramcle fighter said.
“Did you think of talking with them?” asked Fedelm with a sigh.
Urith smiled at the quizzical look the men shot at the woman. “She might have something. That road seems familiar. Where does it lead?”
“To Yns Cearcal,” she replied. “You remember; I took you there before.”
“That's right; you tried to get us ambushed there by Alrpan.” The giant man winked to the blond who turned red.
“How does this help us now?” Skart spoke up impatiently, and Mivraa agreed with the Fealharan.
Urith let out a slow breath. “Instead of a fight which will slow us down, even more, I'll go ask what they are guarding and see where their sympathies lie. Can you wait before we decide others must die?”
He spurred his horse forward, giving the assassin leader and Mivraa a glare. Brihar and Mivraa rode forward with the Esterblud. Fedelm stayed behind with Narslac who suddenly began to sing a Ynyover poem, loud enough for all to hear. His voice was rough and unsteady, making the notes of a sick vensar at times.
“It's times like these, I wish I could still play the lute,” he told her after he finished. “I've seen times when the Skalds can help stop a war with our songs. Too bad, my friends are no longer among us.” The woman hoped the man’s friends sang better than Narslac or a battle could break out.
Urith stopped his ossane several paces away from the line of blue-clad men. Their leader stepped forward. He was an old warrior, his face ravaged with scars and one blind eye.
“You are in the wrong land, Esterblud.”
“This is true. However, we may have a common cause. We are after those Aberffraw who ravage your lands.” Brihar spoke up.
“That would be our concern,” the scarred man replied. “Your people come through enough to think you own our soil.”
“We are not here to fight you unless you favor the Cahmais cause. You wear the colors of the Aberffraw. Are you with this man called Lyncus who destroys the villages of Ynyover?” Urith got down from his mount and stepped toward the man.
“We don't follow that cursed Aberffraw. I wear the tunic taken from one of the bodies recently killed near here. We have little after those from Cahmais steal and burn. No use giving clothes and weapons to the worms. However, our people stand against invaders now. We have decided we will not let invaders come and go as they please through our land anymore.” The man's one eye widened as Urith came close. “You're the one they talk about; the scarred man with the god's shield.”
“I'm called Urith,” the Esterblud replied as he slid off his mount, stepping closer to the man. “Like you, I've been scarred by battle. We only seek to capture the leader of the Aberffraw. We will take him back to the Citadel for trial and punishment.”
The militia leader laughed sarcastically. “Put that scum back in the hands of the Overlord. You might as well, kiss his ass first. Satres and his council are why my people suffer.”
“Satres is dead. The Citadel is controlled by Ynyover people now.” Urith decided not to mention Brihar’s men at the port helping.
The man looked at him, then Brihar and Mivraa. “That's too good to be true.” His tone was skeptical.
“We have little reason to lie about such things,” Brihar told him. “What Urith says is the truth. I have but a few men in the port outside the fortress who are helping stop the destruction now. Once we catch the vermin who invaded our lands, we will leave this place. You have a warrior’s oath on that.”
The old man turned back to his men, yelling out the news. The cheer that came from the other blue-clad fighters showed their satisfaction. He turned back to Urith. “My name is Deijumb. If what you tell is correct, you will be surprised who waits near the Cahmais border for Lyncus and his men. He is not welcome in any kingdom now. Let us join your cause. The Aberffraw are not far from here.”
Urith cast a glance over to Brihar who was visibly suspicious. “Why do your men not attack these Cahmais invaders when they came this way?”
“We only arrived at this crossroads last night. I've been rounding up whatever fighters I could find since many of our leaders were sent to Mugga on the orders of Satres. For the moment, the fort in Mugga holds the only loyal Ynyover leaders left. My group was directed to cut off any riders why might be coming from the Great Circle.”
He pointed over to a young man dressed in a blue tunic, holding a Ynyover helmet. “My boy there just came back to tell us where this Lyncus is.” A thought came to the man. “Say, on your journey this way, did you not see anyone? My other boy should have returned by now. I sent him to Ynysbeag.”
Urith heard an ossane trotting away and saw Mivraa leaving. He turned back to the man. “Our group came upon the body of a boy this morning wearing the blue tunic. He had brown leather armor, and canvas pants like you wear. No one here knows how he died. It doesn't appear he made it to the village.”
The one-eyed man's face remained unchanged, but Urith immediately knew the mask that crossed Deijumb’s face. “That’s too bad. Hopefully, he died facing the enemy. The gods will take him to Haligulf.” He turned away, slowly going back to his friends. “We'll lead you to the Aberffraw. Then, you and your people can let us live in peace.”
Urith walked back to his ossane. As he awkwardly climbed on the saddle, he accidently struck his injured arm, sending a wave of pain through his shoulder. When he watched the old warrior pull himself on the ossane held by his son, Urith realized the old man carried a far greater injury inside. Fedelm and Narslac drew next to the Esterblud.
“What happened with Mivraa?” the woman asked him.
Urith shook his head. “I just saw her ride away.” He didn't tell them he thought he knew why.
“I've never seen her look like that,” Narslac said. He didn’t want to tell the others he saw the warrior goddess in tears as she left.
“She remains,” Urith groped for a word.
“Confused,” Fedelm finished his thought, her tone was hard, and Narslac raised his eyebrow at what they told him. He decided not to ask as Brihar came joined them.
The Gramcle leader waved the group forward, and soon they were following the Ynyover militia. Narslac saw Mivraa remained far behind the group, slowly following them. He told his friends who glanced back, but they remained quiet. The one son of Deijumb traveled ahead with several of the comitatus. The one-eyed warrior fell back, directing his ossane next to Urith.
“Tell me Urith, why the women in your group? I’ve never seen fighters travel with cup-bearers to battle.”
The giant man laughed. “Cup-bearers? I’ve not had such a thought like that in ages. I once believed as you. But now,” he shook his head. “Would you believe the auburn hair woman is Mivraa? One of the fiercest fighters you will know. I’ve seen her behead her half-brother, Wurms.” He shifted his weight and pointed over to Fedelm. “This lovely lady next to me is called Fedelm. Don’t underestimate her size. She has saved my life several times. The woman’s a hakra as well.”
“Enough of the tales,” the grizzled man laughed at the description. He stopped when he saw Brihar and Narslac’s serious expressions.
“I’m the Skald, and I’ll tell you the truth. I witnessed both of these women kill beorhs who attacked us. They are not cup-bearers, and Mivraa is certainly not a peacemaker,” Narslac told him firmly.
Deijumb went quiet for a while. Finally, he spoke. “Then, the rumors appear to be correct. You are the new Heptarc.”
Urith frowned. “That is a tale that is not true. I’m only following where the Fates send me. I don’t want what hangs on my saddle.”
The old man eyed him. “If that is the Skool, many others would give their limbs for it.”
“Then it would mean their death,” Brihar spoke up. “I’ve seen a man try to take it, only to die a quivering death. The Shield of Skool protects Urith.” The old man whistled at the news, then redirected his ossane around to the other side of Urith.
~~~
While the gods of the Sky Realm slept, there was an unusual silence in the great hall Haligulf. Where the great warrior spirits would normally be eating, drinking, fighting, and carousing with the pretty water sprites, now they listened intently to one soul. Heptarc stood on a table, holding a mug of heathmead made from the waters of the Exyts Spring. The many great fighting ghosts around him held the same drink in their hands.
“As you know, I bear the responsibility for creating the pact with the gods of the Sky Realm and Underworld. It is also my terrible mistake. Before I step on this platform, Dughorm told you what is coming to our dimension. Quite simply, the Guardians will return, bringing destruction and misery to our children, grandchildren and long lost families. It is not a tale of the Skalds. It is a reality now for us. I trust this seer of the gods.” He paused as his voice still echoed across the silent chamber. The maker of the warrior code continued.
“The time is here for a decision. We can continue our eternity to fight as individuals, maybe to die at the hands of rivals only to return to these tables to drink ourselves into oblivion. Maybe the Guardians will let this continue, who can say.” Heptarc shrugged. “Or, we can try to help our offspring to create a new realm. To fix the world as it should have happened the first time.”
Murmuring swept through the fighters around the hall.
Those of you who remember our vows to our clans and lands, I'm asking you to join me to correct the wrong I brought. Our new forms wait by the water's edge. Once we enter these new bodies, we will be mortal again, to feel pain and die without a future. It is the risk I'm asking you to take. But, be assured, a great fight is coming for us. The biggest battle any of us will ever know.”
The spirit jumped down from his perch and pushed through the crowd as a change swept over the room. Fighters suddenly felt a rush of adrenalin, something lost since their death. They also began to remember their families, long dead wives and children who never made it into their dimension. Their souls felt the overwhelming tug of raw emotions which disintegrated like their bodies. A roar slowly built in the hall and when Heptarc opened the massive doors, the avalanche of sound came with a new dawn as the waves of spirits swept across the Sky Realm.
~~~
The combined group of Esterblud and Ynyover fighters stopped near a stream, letting ossanes drink and their riders to fill water bags. As Urith squatted by the water's edge, one of the local scouts galloped by on his way to report to Deijumb. The Esterblud glanced over to see the young fighter talking with the one-eyed leader along with several of his comrades. Returning to filling his water bag, the giant man felt someone come close to him. Turning, he saw Mivraa sit beside him, staring at the water. He waited, but the woman remained quiet.
“Is something bothering you?” The man recognized the words were inadequate as he watched the bubble rise in the stream as the bag filled.
He expected the demigoddess to suddenly scorn him. Instead, Mivraa surprised him.
“Much bothers me.” The woman told him, then she paused for a moment.
“I still see his face.” Mivraa broke a twig, reaching down to swirl it in the water to break up the reflection of her.
Urith turned to her. “Whose face?”
“The boy on the road,” she went silent again, and the man really didn't know what to say. He watched her twirl the stick around again.
“You've seen death before,” he finally replied.
The demigoddess nodded. “But the faces don't stay with me. The human didn't deserve it.”
Urith knew the answer, but he asked anyway, “Just another kill against a human opponent who could not match you?”
Mivraa nodded again, taking a deep breath. “I guess the old man got to me. I saw it in his eyes when you told him about the boy. Why did the fool send him on that road?”
The warrior shook his head. “Why would you kill a person who could not possibly win? Maybe it was to wake you?”
“Why?” she asked, he thought he saw a tear on one cheek, but she turned her head as she wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I’m beyond this. Emotions bring nothing.”
“I have no idea why. But since the mountain, you seek the blood of others. I know this much. You're better than that vengeance you wish for. You and I have been part of too much death.” He stopped, his mind going back to the first time they met. “Remember the time on the bridge when I first met you and Narslac. I can still feel the hate and bitterness of which came out of me on that day. Those bandits did not cause the deaths of my wife and father. But I wanted to butcher them, to make them feel my loss. That went on for a time for some crazy reason. While some might have deserved their death, others did not. Being a butcher does not stop the pain inside. In fact, I still wonder what waits for me after my death. The whole idea of Haligulf is gone for me. How can my spirit wash the blood I still wear from the suffering I cause?”
She stopped twirling the twig and threw the branch into the water. The demigoddess rose and began to walk away.
“We both have questions. Yes, I remember you on that day. I saw your madness and desperation,” she told him. “I just hope my mind is not already gone.”
Before he could reply, Mivraa quickly walked away, heading downstream. Urith thought about following her but realized she would need to answer the questions inside. Her life, like his, was part of a changing world which could become even more hopeless.
As his eyes followed her, he saw the demigoddess suddenly stop, peering closely at the foliage across the stream. Then, Mivraa quickly stepped through the creek to the other side where he lost sight of her in the brush. He thought about what he saw for a moment, then went back to finish his work.
On the other side of the stream, the warrior goddess carefully entered a thick grove of young trees and spiny brush. Inside, she sensed spirits watching her, but she couldn't see them. Suddenly, she turned, whipping out her spear as she expected something behind her. Only the green and blue foliage showed, covering the path she made entering the grove.
“The goddess of Haligulf is mighty jumpy.” The breath of a woman's voice came from above.
Mivraa looked up and saw Spanca hanging upside down, the talons on her feet embedded into the thin trunks of two trees. Her nude green body camouflaged the woman among the canopy of leaves. “I thought I saw you come into this grove,” Mivraa growled. “You're getting easy to spot.”
The nature goddess blinked her yellow eyes several times. “Perhaps I wanted you to follow me. Not all of us who travel between realms are against you.”
The woman warrior slid her spear back into her cloak. “I'll believe it when I see it. What do you want?”
“Rumors fly among the sprites that grow fearful, hiding in the lost lands within Kamin. They tell me that you are brgensoc, crazy from your time on the mountain.” The upside down woman paused when Mivraa glared at her. “Forgive the pain of truth but remember I was born of a god raping my mother. There are not many of us left now. With the underworld beasts unleashed upon the lands and the death of gods in the Sky, should we not work together?”
The warrior goddess remained quiet. Fathered by Uugara, Spanca was worshiped primarily by the Gallaeci and controlled the local forests, crops, and forest creatures. While Mivraa took on many of the characteristics of her mother, the nature goddess carried more of the attributes of the god creature who fathered her. Along with her complexion and unusual feet, the woman had unusually long arms, perfect for trees. Yet, her face was attractive with angular features and full lips. Her long brown hair twirling, Spanca flipped herself over from the trees, neatly landing in front of Mivraa.
“You travel with the scarred one. I can help you. I know a way to the gods who fathered us.”
Before the demigoddess could speak, the two women heard another voice.
“If she is not interested, I would be.” Urith slide in behind the green goddess who turned with a startled cry which sounded like a wounded bird. The man smiled at her, hoping his death sneer would not send the creature running away.
“No need to fear. It's not often a man meets with two beautiful demigoddesses in such tight spaces.”
Immediately, Spanca blushed, her face turning a shade of blue. She looked at the scarred man as he tried to keep from admiring her naked body. Despite her green hue, the woman was stunning, especially when she smiled at him. “The Clovel Destroyer is known for death, not flattery.”
“I'm trying to change my ways,” the giant man said jokingly. Then he saw Mivraa's look, and he turned serious. “I noticed Mivraa hunting something, so I followed. Your conversation suddenly interested me.”
“Don't mind him,” Mivraa told her fellow goddess, her attention peaked at the new possibilities. “Tell us about your idea. We know something is coming and it seems to involve the Sky Realm.”
Spanca waved them to come in closer. As she leaned in, she put her long arms around them and began whispering. “The one they call Kriell in the underworld has been seen near Yns Cearcal. It is said, the creature transformed into Uugor within the Great Circle.”
“By the gods, I don’t know how but Oslaf’s wound must have killed Uugor. If Kriell stole the god’s soul, does that mean he can get into the Sky Realm?” Mivraa asked, her mind reeling at the implications.
The nature goddess nodded, her face was grave. “The sprites that blow with the wind tell me so. Their souls are in torment. They hate the Sky Gods, but the nymphs fear the underworld nearly as much.”
“You mean they have nowhere to turn,” Urith said bitterly, and Spanca nodded. He remembered his dead wife’s voice urging him to help the villagers in Eran.
Mivraa stared at the Esterblud suddenly understanding what she heard that day as well. The sprites sought a way to rebel against the Sky Realm. “So, how do we get into the realm without Duwdamon finding out? Some of those who watch for intruders will still give out an alarm if I try to enter.”
The green woman smiled, and her eyes brightened. “I take you to Yns Cearcal and show the way. The spirits who protect the entrance will listen to me.”
The warrior goddess broke away from the circle, excited. “We can go now.”
“I’m going to finish with Lyncus first,” Urith told her.
Mivraa flashed her temper, “Fine, I’ll go alone.”
“And do what?” The large man responded. “Can you fight Duwdamon by yourself? Only I carry the weapon that can fix this.” He saw her anger rising, but he kept his voice steady. “Mivraa, nobody is saying you can’t go after them. But I’m asking you to think first. If our past means anything, let me help. I don’t want you hurt again.”
Spanca took her sister goddess’s arm. “He’s right. I heard what happened. The Skool is with him. Use it for your justice.” She turned the woman fighter toward her, her yellow eyes staring into hers. “For our justice, you know what I mean?”
Mivraa recognized the sorrow she saw in the green demigoddess told her much about herself. The goddess turned to Urith. “Let me talk with Spanca alone. Go back and get our ossanes and come for me. We will decide what to do when I return.”
Urith nodded and left. True to her word, Mivraa was waiting by the stream when the Esterblud returned. Fedelm and Narslac came with him, although both showed their confusion at the secrecy. The giant Esterblud refused to discuss what he and Mivraa talked about as the demigoddess climbed on her mount.
Suddenly, Brihar whistled for them as the Gramcle along with the rest of the fighters galloped away. They followed the road toward Cahmais.
“We will see Lyncus by the end of the day if our scouts are correct,” the Esterblud told her. Mivraa nodded and spurred her ossane back to the road.
“We will follow your plan,” the woman told them.
“What plan? What's going on?” Fedelm asked, glancing over at Narslac.
“Mivraa found a way for the two of us to enter the Sky Realm. After we get Lyncus, we will go to Yns Cearcal.” The warrior told them matter-of-factly. The stunned silence from their comrades continued for a while. Fedelm's face went sour at the words while Narslac looked at the stub of his one arm.
“We will come back and meet Spanca at the circle,” Mivraa told the Esterblud who nodded.
“Have you got the nature goddess of the Gallaeci on your side now?” Narslac moved his mount closer to Mivraa who nodded. The Skald beamed a smile and laughed. “That is good news. I remember hearing about her, but few get to see her. They say she is beautiful.”
Urith nodded absently while Fedelm gave the warrior a hard glare. Narslac smiled to himself.
“Well, I always wanted to see the Sky Realm but doing it while I'm alive will prove to be kind of interesting,” the Skald reflected on the idea.
“What makes you think you're going in,” Urith grunted. “The fight coming is between the gods and me. Mivraa has her own reasons.”
The stout man suddenly grabbed the reins of Urith's mount, forcing him to stop. Narslac scowled at the Esterblud. “I joined with you to the finish. Friends we are and warriors as well. Like it or not, I'll be needed, and you'll not decide my fate.”
Urith looked at his friend for a moment, before he took the reins back. “You're correct. It is not my place to stop you.”
“You might as well get that idea out of your head for me as well,” Fedelm came up beside the two men. “By my oath, I'm finishing this for my father.”
Urith gave them a grin, knowing he lost the argument. “Let's try to get ourselves to the Great Circle alive first. Lyncus and his vermin will not be coming back with us willingly.”