Private Tales Endirinn

[Brenna]

Haraudur.

Skad had said the name enough times for Brenna to assume it was one of the twisted Gods long before the Goddess had mentioned it. She still wasn't sure what exactly the God had asked of Skad or the Nordenwiir race, only that in following them they had lost their Svalens. Or, at least, that was how the story went. It couldn't simply be that he asked for Death, could it? The thought made her uncomfortable. What kind of God would ask that of his people, surely he didn't want his people to suffer and die at the hands of one another? But even as she thought the question a sinking part of her whispered that yes, this God very well might delight in such things.

That was the God they were meant to defeat?

The thought was almost as disconcerting at the one that Skad had never had a friend before.

"Nice definitely isn't always fun," Brenna sighed but returned the bloodied smile with a twin of her own. Nice had got her into as many problems as it had out of them. The problem was that not everyone was nice. It would be a much easier world if they were. On the poignant thought, she trudged back to the cave entrance to finish up what she had been doing.

Five minutes later they were setting off again back through the wilderness towards the village they had left in such a hurry. Along the way Brenna checked the traps she had lain and collect the three dead snow hares, tying them to her pack. They'd have to skin and salt the meat before setting sail. She was debating the idea of hunting for something larger when the faint lights of the town appeared like insects on the horizon.

"I'm still not sure they won't just kill us both as soon as they see us."

 

[Skad]

There was a newly sprouted part of Skad that sought to understand what Brenna meant. Her own contemplation brought her to a small revelation about the folly of being nice, at least from her skewed perspective:

Killing was easy; kindness was hard.

The journey back seemed shorter, mostly owing to the fact that the Nordwiir had been unconscious and blind on their first trek. At least the navigation was more straightforward, well, almost. The swelling of her eye had begun to have an impact once more upon the woman's limited vision. Perhaps goading Brenna into violence had not been the most intelligent plan of attack.

In the face of her friend's doubt, Skad met her with reality.

"They might trying," she answered bluntly, looking to Brenna with her swollen and bloodied mess of a face, "now you must tying me up."

It had, after all, been a far better suggestion than her own.

"I do trusting you, Brenna."

 

[Brenna]

That trust settled across her shoulders like a yoke.

All she could offer Skad was a wobbly smile in an attempt not to look as unsure or worried as she felt inside. Unslinging her pack from her shoulders it didn't take long to rummage through and find the coil of rope she had packed. In a few deft, practised movement - albeit on dead game rather than a living person - Brenna had strung Skad's wrists quite securely behind her back. A leading rope led from the binds to Brenna's own hand and she gave a firm tug to test her handywork.

"Let's go," she said after a deep breath and a squaring of her shoulders. For this to work she needed to seem in control of the situation; she had to make the lie real.

Villagers paused in their daily tasks as Brenna and Skad stepped inside the towns boundary. Usually it would unnerve her but with the return of her hearing stepping into a town with so many people shouting, heckling, clanging and jostling, it had threatened to overwhelm her and she was glad for the eerie quiet. It stretched before them as news of their return was carried ahead and Brenna stepped into it far more confidently than she felt. She just had to get to her boat.

Of course it would never be that easy.

As they reached the heart of the town a crowd had gathered. At the head was the same man who had initially challenged them when attempting to leave. His face still bore the mottled bruises of their fight. Resisting the urge to wince she drew to a stop, keeping a tight hold of the rope in her hand.

"You have a lot of nerve, coming back 'ere," a muttering of agreement rumbled through the crowd. Brenna lifted her chin.

"We're passing through. The Nordenwiir will face proper judgement in the Capital, I've simply come for my boat and a few supplies. Then we'll be on our way."

"Real justice would have been letting her die of that poison."

"Over a goat?" Brenna lifted a brow. "As far as I was aware you were under Maude's law. Stealing does not warrant death. Or do you think you know better than our Queen?"

 

[Skad]

It was a fool's gambit.

From the moment she had smashed that rock into her face to the moment that Brenna tied her hands behind her back. It was perhaps even beyond mortal foolishness and instead on the precipice of madness. Kin-Slayer, the merciless blade, would have scoffed at the idea of playing pretend to pacify villagers in pursuing the boat. She would have waited until they were asleep, caught them in their beds one-by-one with swift strokes of the dagger in service of the Crimson Father.

She was no longer that person, or at the very least, did not want to be.

So, while Brenna assumed the posture of the absolute, Skad opted for that of the subdued, letting her shoulders sag and head hang heavy, a remnant of brute held in her stiffened lower jaw. Her role was easy; she wasn't the one who had to talk.

As they made their way through town, it seemed as if fortune smiled upon them, judging from the avoidance of the villagers. Unfortunately, it was the precursor to a gathering.

Brenna handled it well; her retort was a challenge of authority as Skad silently contemplated what true justice would have meant. Was the poison enough as a form of retribution? They thought so. She disagreed. On Eyjarnar, they had Hátíð Sársauka, the Feast of Pain. Perhaps that would have been just, but only if eternal damnation was to follow.

"No, that...that's not what I-" the man half-sputtered, his jaw setting as he faltered against the notion of their Queen.

"It was more than a goat!" came the shout of a woman, stricken with wavering grief, "Where is the justice for my husband?"

"And his brother!" followed another shout, this time from a man whose face and neck were wrapped in rust-coloured bandages that evidently needed changing. She recalled blindly stabbing at one of the villagers on the night that they left.

She also recalled being less than forthcoming with her friend about what had transpired between her, the townsfolk and a goat. I eat their goat, we have fight. What hadn't quite been established was the outcome of that fight, Skad had been far more concerned with her loss of sight than the life shed over an animal.

The leading man once more found momentum, "It is our judgement to pass, not the capital's."

 

[Brenna]

All this over a goat... Brenna wanted to shake her head in despair. She imagined the villagers souls getting to the doors of the Great Hall and proclaiming they had lost their life over a fight about a goat. How the Gods would laugh at them and turn them away from the Eternal Hearth.

"You are a part of the Queen's land, and by the Queen's judgement only can justice be passed. Or all of you who decided to take a life may face the same fate. We are not lawless savages," she glanced to Skad and though her gut twisted at the words forming in her mind she knew it would appeal to the mob. "We are not like them." there were a few murmurs of discontent and more than a few angry glares but Brenna stood her ground. The leader took a step forward until they stood toe to toe. The stench of his breath made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"And how do we know you be takin' her to where you say you be takin' her?" Though a good head taller than her, Brenna still managed to look down her nose at him.

"Write to the Queen. She will be needing your account anyway, but if I am false she will send the Guard to bring her and me to justice."

 

[Skad]

Once more, Brenna held fast, wielding the law of the Queen as both sword and shield against their collective desire for retribution. She even drew the line between them and us, which gave Skad cause to bare her teeth, the newly formed crust upon her broken nose splitting as it furrowed in a feral manner.

In reality, she was elated; the trust placed upon her friend's shoulders was the most intelligent thing the Nordwiir had done in some time.

Then came the suspicion, right up in her face with a lack of better judgment, given that they had witnessed the destruction that the pair of women could unleash if pressed. It was a fair question; they had left together, albeit not on the same wavelength. One longing for a peaceful resolution in the retreat, the other with a gaping axe wound in her chest, revelling in the shedding of blood.

Was the bluff enough? What if they followed through? The last thing they needed was more enemies. At that point even Skad was unsure what was deception and what was truth.

Perhaps unwisely, the one-eyed Nordwiir intervened, turning her head and spitting upon her "captor's" face, which moved the crowd from grumble to gasp. Skad's lower jaw jutted forth as she sought to further the gap between them and us, her upper lip snarling in a manner that was no doubt expected by the villagers but likely strange for Brenna to witness.

"Fuck your Queen."

Surely, it would embolden them to agree with the woman who stood for proper justice rather than agree with the one who had killed their neighbours.

That, or start a riot.

 

[Brenna]

A tense silence fell across the gathered crowd as Brenna wiped the bloody spittle off her face. The outrage on her face didn't have to be faked at all. Really?! her blue eyes seemed to ask as they burned with ire, spitting?! It also left her with very little alternative. If she stood and accepted such an insult then they surely wouldn't let the pair of them continue on their way, but if she went too far then it could be the spark that set the tinder aflame. The man who had just been shouting in her face stepped forward - to defend or rebuke her she wasn't sure - but Brenna didn't bother giving him the chance either way.

Her fist lashed forward aiming for the woman's already bloody nose at the same time her foot lashed out to aim a kick at Skad's knee, her aim being to send the woman sprawling to the floor where she could crush her boot into her throat.

 

[Skad]

Skad could see from her friend's stare that they would be having a talk about spitting in the near future, provided there was one.

The reaction of Brenna was without hesitation, demonstrating single-minded authority before the flock. It was, at least in the Nordwiir's mind, the only correct course of action, even at the expense of her tortured nose. She didn't have to pretend to be laid out by the Nordenfiir; with her hands tied behind her back, the combination of blows was more than enough to deck her.

However, the follow-up with the boot was unexpected. Not entirely unwelcome, as the gesture caused the spokesman for the village to falter somewhat, now stepping back where he had previously stepped forward. It was ruthless. It was brilliant. It spoke of a woman of little compromise in the face of those who had sought to challenge it. It was...

...crushing her windpipe somewhat.

Having to struggle against the boot pressing into her throat was counter-intuitive to Skad's nature, who, in reality, would have remained passive, awaiting a glimmer of weakness or a slack moment to strike. No, these people needed assurance that they were safe, and that required the feral savage to be prostrate.

But not too safe.

<"...may the...kaldurhrafn...peck out...your eyes...!"> Skad threatened in seething strangled tones of her mother tongue.

 

[Brenna]

"Well..." the towns speaker cleared his throat and licked his lips as the crowd watched the little show. His piggy eyes darted from the two women to the crowd, attempting to interpret what the majority of his people wanted him to do. From her own brief glance it seemed divided. Half were nodding in approval - some of them had even left assuming the whole affair over - but others, such as the grieving widow continued to glare at them with hatred. Nothing but a death here and now would settle that kind of call for vengeance. In the end the man seemed to make a decision.

"As long as you have her under control," he tugged on his thick seal-skinned jacket. "And go directly to the boat," he continued louder to be heard over the sharp cry of outrage from those who had lost loved ones. "I will be writing to the Queen, though," and with that he stomped off, leaving Brenna to hurl Skad to her feet. Most of the crowd peeled away with him but those few with murder in their hearts remained. The Nordenfiir pretended to ignore them as she strode towards the docks.

"Spit? Really?" she whispered angrily in her friends ear.

 

[Skad]

It seemed that their ploy had worked, and at the very least, without violence on Skad's end.

With the bulk of the crowd satisfied by the false promise of justice, they began to disperse. Perhaps the lie would allow some to sleep a little easier, although for others they would go to their beds with hollow pits in their stomach in the place of vengeance.

Or perhaps they had other plans.

As she was hauled back to her feet by Brenna and escorted to the docks, she was painfully aware of the lingering presence of those who had cried out.

"It was good, no?" Skad hissed back, her face, all blood, teeth and venom to disguise the conversation with her friend. Without hearing her words, it looked as if the Nordwiir was threatening the Nordenfiir with feral intent.

They walked.

The stragglers followed.

Either it was a piss poor attempt at an ambush, or they were letting their feet be guided by emotion. It was hard to sense any level of threat from a dumpy widow and a heavily bandaged yokel, but tensions were fraught enough in the village to make it dangerous. Perhaps they'd throw stones, maybe shit if they had it to hand. All it could take was one knife and a bad idea.

"You going to do something about them?" Skad growled under her breath, very much trying to keep discreet.

 

[Brenna]

"And start a riot?" Brenna hissed back and then grabbed Skad by the scruff of the neck as the docks at last came into view. Her boat was not the largest amongst those moored. Little more than a fishers boat in truth, but it was still a vessel the Nordenfiir was proud of. She'd repaired it herself with her brothers help on one of his odd spells home. It had a single mast with a large sail when it was unfurled and about enough room on deck for three people to move about comfortably. Brenna all but threw her 'prisoner' on board before following suit.

The crowd stopped on the pier.

Brenna pretended to ignore them as she went about the routine checks every sailor worth her salt should do before casting anchor. Nothing looked rotten or moth eaten. She'd half expected to find the rudder jammed or the mast splitting in an attempt to hinder any chance of escape. Idly as she passed by the glaring group once more she fished in her pocket and flipped the youngest - a boy no more than ten - a silver coin.

"Go fetch me some legumes, salted meats, hardtack, and dried fruits. There's another silver waiting for you when you get back," the boy's eyes bulged and before his mother could stop him he was off.

"He's not your errand boy," the woman seethed.

"Strange, I thought you would be eager for us to get going. Or were you hoping I'd leave her alone for you to met out your so called justice?"

 

[Skad]

For as small as the vessel was, Skad couldn't help but feel a sense of hope when it was revealed to her. The boat was far better built than any she'd seen crafted by Wiir hands. It only made sense, with the scarcity of wood and all progress of their people hampered by the Dark Gods, there was not much chance for artisans of any craft to emerge. No wonder most Hæfurkappi were lost to Uratash, never reaching dry land.

Skad's knees hit the deck as Brenna manhandled her onto the boat, her friend doing a remarkable job at matching physicality to her false intent.

The stragglers remained, still at odds with the Nordenfiir and her supposed due process. She understood their plight, albeit from the primitive scope of their own people. More often than not, if you wronged somebody then it would be their axe that split your skull in the name of justice. However, that was not to say that there were greater systems at work. Falling foul of a unified tribe could lead to more established forms of execution.

"They were good men," the heavily bandaged man spat through the muffle of dried blood, "not that you would know anything about that."

"It's not fair!"

"And what about the next time this happens?"

The widow, with her great watery eyes surrounded by swollen flesh engorged on tears stepped forward, on the verge of boarding the boat, "How will I feed my children now?"

Skad's jaw set, observing as they riled themselves up with their grief. There wasn't much in the way of options on her part, not without antagonising them further. But, perhaps, frightening them would bear better fruit.

The Nordwiir, still upon her knees, bowed forward, her forehead touching the deck and blood dripping down from her nose to christen it. She began to 'pray', words snarling forth in her guttural native tongue to cut through and interrupt the crescendo of rising grief. The 'prayer', of course, was nothing more than a nonsense assortment of words as Skad had no wish to actually invoke Haraudur in her deception.

"What is she doing?!"

"Blood magic," the wounded man stammered, pulling the widow back. He had witnessed the Nordwiir survive an axe to the chest, all the while spouting that incomprehensible tongue. What else could it be but a wicked incantation? Now, he looked to Brenna for aid, "Stop her!"

 

[Brenna]

The questions rained down like arrows one after the other whilst Brenna continued with her preparations. With care she pulled the ropes binding up the mail sail and checked the canvas for any rips of wear. She tied it off when she was content no moths had been at it whilst she was away then moved on to check what supplies she did have left from her trip here. It was easy enough to tune the whinging out at least until Skad oh so helpfully began to chant.

She stifled the urge to strangle her.

"Why? It's harmless. Her Gods are false," she waved a dismissive hand even whilst she eyed up her friend and hoped to their new shared Goddess Skad wasn't really chanting. Especially not to Haraudur. She suppressed a shudder that threatened to run up her spine. "It's my boat she's cursing so it should be no bother to you. Run along if it scares you."

 

[Skad]

"It wasn't bloody harmless the last time!"

They likely didn't appreciate that Brenna hadn't heard much of anything during that violent skirmish and was very much distracted by the pitchforks and ire that had been directed her way. They definitely hadn't appreciated the Nordenfiir's restraint in not killing any of them.

At the very least, it had deviated the conversation away from the topic of justice.

Finishing off the garbled nonsense masquerading as a prayer of death and leaving a crimson stain upon the deck, Skad lifted her head and looked to Brenna; savagery still affixed to her face in the form of blood-stained, snarling teeth. It was a gleeful malice, so far removed from the usual stoicism that afflicted her that it likely seemed alien.

"Endirinn comes, drowning bear. Uratash claim us both."

Probably shouldn't have been threatening the wrath of the God of Storms before setting sail on a perilous journey, but at the very least, it was buying time before the boy returned with their supplies.

 

[Brenna]

The wind around them seemed to shift. The temperature dropped and a cruel wind nipped at Brenna's unfurled sail making the boat jump about the waves. They all stared at the sky as though expecting the hand of some dark and vengeful God to reach down and swat them. Several of those on the docks spun about and spat to ward off the evil. It took every ounce of control not to copy them. Brenna had to believe their new patron would offer what protection she could against the dark forces they sailed against.

With a few deft tugs she pulled off the thinned scarf she wore about her neck and shoved it unceremoniously into Skad's mouth, tying it firmly in places with one of the bandages about her hand.

"Stop it," she hissed in her friends ear before all but dragging her to the mast and further from the villagers.

 

[Skad]

On the one hand, the immediate omen of ill winds had provided the fear Skad was striving for. She watched them, spinning and spitting, their minds becoming more malleable to the idea of the good Nordenfiir taking charge of the primaeval savage they had sought vengeance upon.

On the other hand, she had seemed to have invoked the ire of Uratash. Which, naturally, wasn't ideal.

The Nordwiir expected the God of Storms to make himself known during their voyage to Eyjarnar, but before they had even set sail seemed a touch premature. Skad forced herself to grin into the precursor to disaster, but she was aghast at her own stupidity, made even worse by the fact that the Dark God had already dashed her against the rocks once before.

So, she didn't blame Brenna for gagging her; it was the kindest form of damage limitation possible.

"What will," the widow started, seemingly accepting that personal justice was now out of her hands, "what will the punishment be?"

"Gallows are too good for that cunt. I hope it's slow and that it hurts."

They sought solace in the idea of their vengeance. Perhaps, with that idea, they could soothe themselves to sleep, their dreams tainted by bitter retribution. The weakness of love. Skad did not blame them nor resent their wish to see her suffer. Did she really feel guilt for such irrelevant, small-minded strangers? They weren't even Wiir. The thought alone caused her to clench her jaw and close her eye, head hanging low in another assumed prayer, this one decidedly silent.

Mercifully, before Brenna would have to rattle through the nature of official Nordenfiir punishment, the errand boy scampered back into view, hefting their sack of supplies with considerable struggle.

 

[Brenna]

Brenna tried not to look relieved when the boy held out the sack with a proud grin, eyes already skimming her pockets as though he might be able to see the coins within. Almost as soon as she thumbed it from her jacket the boy had whisked it out of her hand and was trotting back towards the village proper. Unfortunately, the little crowd of haters Skad had gathered seemed determined to stay until the boat left the harbour. Maybe they thought they would double cross them in some way and sneak back into the village. Or maybe they were still debating the wisdom of jumping onto the skimmer and attempting to met out justice themselves.

The big lad who had claimed to have lost a brother definitely had the look.

"Maude is fair, but ruthless," Brenna said truthfully. The best thing when lying was to tell as much of the truth as possible after all. She quickly assessed then stowed away the supplies; certainly not the best she would have been given before she had met Skad but it would do. "She will do what is right. Have your elder write to her, it will influence her decision," with that she undid the final mooring knot and pushed off from the dock.

 

[Skad]

There was an air of expectation as the opportunity for vengeance grew slim. They could do something now, or they would have to remain content with the idea of the Queen's justice.

In the end, as the boat departed, those clenched fists and gritted teeth were found to be impotent. There was no last stand, no ill-willed storming of the vessel for their pound of flesh. Just the silence of seething stares from grieving eyes.

Not that Skad noticed, having remained in supposed silent prayer with her head down and eye shut.

Feeling the movement of the boat beneath her, there was a small sense of accomplishment that lingered. They, or rather she, had dealt with a problem without the need of death. Perhaps it was not so farfetched to believe that her nature could change.

Her brow creased, the Nordwiir finding such celebration premature. It was one thing to forge a peaceful solution against hapless villagers, but against her own people, primed for bloodshed at the behest of the Dark Gods?

Skad remained in silent contemplation, but mostly because she was still bound and gagged.

 

[Brenna]

Brenna forgot about Skad. Not entirely, but the gathering clouds had stirred up the seas making them choppy and difficult to navigate and she had become preoccupied with reading the ship for a tough voyage. She ran up and down the length of the ship tightening or loosening ropes and adjusting sails, pulling them in then expanding them again when they were beyond the natural shelter of the harbour. Only when they were on the ocean proper did she finally seem to remember her friend.

First she took the gag out before proceeding to untie her hands. She didn't wait for the bonds to fall, however, before picking up their earlier whispered argument.

"Maybe I should gag you more often - calling down the Gods!?" Brenna didn't bother with gentleness as she yanked on the last knot and worked it loose. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

 

[Skad]

Skad allowed herself a moment to realign her jaw as Brenna unleashed verbal frustration, continuing on from where she had left off. Her anger felt in the rough manner in which she loosened her bindings was not unwarranted.

"I am the fool," she conceded plainly, flexing her wrists before bringing her arms back around to her front, "but I was wanting them to trusting you."

The two remaining fingers of her right hand reached up to touch her battered nose, gingerly pinching where her friend had punched her. From touch alone, she could feel how mishappen it was; her bridge practically flattened. Although how much blame was to level at Brenna was questionable, and Skad imagined the rock had done the lion's share of the damage.

"But Uratash will trying to drown us no matter what," she followed up, unceremoniously sticking her fingers up her nostrils and using the heel of her other hand to attempt to reset her nose, "he almost was getting me before, and you are a bear."

The pop of broken bone and cartilage seemed to punctuate her point.

"The storm will come."

 

[Brenna]

Brenna turned about in a circle then spat, making the sign of protection over her heart.

"That doesn't mean you have to keep saying it!" she hissed and stomped off to recheck the lines for the fifth time. They didn't need checking of course, she had been sailing since she was young enough to walk, but she needed to busy her hands or she would sit and fret over what was to come. Another round of tests took frustratingly little time and so she settled down to properly go over their supplies.

"I'll follow the shoreline North," she'd taken a map out of one of the chests in the small cabin and now smoothed it out in front of where she sat cross legged on the deck. "We can make dock up in these parts and hunt before beginning the crossing to the Lost Isles," she traced her finger up to the darkly shaded area of the map where the vague impression of land was.

 

[Skad]

It was a peculiar thing to be berated by Brenna.

A part of her was proud, overjoyed to see the woman have a bit of bite about her, which cast a light of hope on their survival. Another part was ashamed, knowing that her foolishness had played a role if the depths became their grave. It was strange; it actually hurt in a measure beyond flesh and bone. Skad was perfectly content if the yokels of the southern lands considered her to be an idiot, but for Brenna to think it?

Much easier to slit throats than deal with such feelings.

As the Nordenfiir kept herself busy, the Nordwiir simply sat and stared off into the horizon. A foreboding grimace played across her grizzled features as she sat and stewed in the novel concept of shame.

Agreeing with Brenna's plan of attack before they sailed into oblivion, the one-eyed woman offered a muted hum of agreement from the back of her throat before finally turning her head to look at her friend, expression still steeped in a contemplative frown.

"What will happen to you if they are writing to your Queen? You will be able to go home, yes?"

 

[Brenna]

Brenna's fingers stilled on the map. It was a question that had been chasing her since the moment she had dared the villagers to write to her. She had no doubts that they would; the death of kin was a blow to anyone and in a community as small as theirs it would be felt for months yet to come. Maude was a fair and just Queen - it was why Brenna had followed her to the South on a mission to commit her lexicon to the intellectual vaults of the scholars. She would have called for Skad's execution and the villagers would have had their justice. For Brenna to rob them of that...

"I don't know," her shoulders slumped at the admission. "I could lie and say I lost you in the crossing, but she might see through it. It.. it is something I will deal with if I come back."

 

[Skad]

"When you go back," Skad corrected, finally rising to her feet and approaching the boat's edge. She wasn't accustomed to seafaring, hailing from a place far removed from any coast. The sight of the waters beneath filled her with a certain dread, not least because she had lost half of her Hæfurkappi to those depths.

Instinctively, she reached for the knife no longer in her possession as if an offering of blood might have tempered ill-omen. It hadn't worked the first time; why would it have worked now?

"But I cannot go with you," she stated plainly, her brow creasing as her head turned to look at the dejected shape of her friend, "there will be no cake."

Brenna may not have invoked the wrath of a God in her efforts to soothe the villagers' righteous fury, but she had set in stone a far more tangible consequence. That alien sense of embarrassment wanted Skad to rub it in more, to save some face, but demoralising her only friend and the person responsible for their safe crossing seemed both unwise and unkind.

"It will be fine," she lied, approaching Brenna and crouching down beside her to study the map instead, "and your plan sounding good. I will teaching some Wiir while we sail."

 

[Kol]

The raindrops cut into his flesh.

The wind beat against his bones.​

It hurt. It all hurt so much, but the screaming didn't stop. The shouting. The whispers. The voices that escalated and echoed in a cacophony of unceasing chaos. Even as the storm beat him. As the gales hounded his skin and the razors of ice sliced through what little remained of his rags.

They were still there.

The waves dashed over him, sending him plummeting into the sea.​

Still they screamed their demands, their agony, their relentless howls for savior.

Always their voices had been there. Always questioning, beckoning, manipulating, but never crying out with terror. Never asking, begging.

The water rushed into his open mouth as he desperately tried to scream.

Fingers gripping for earth that was no longer there.​

All of their voices sounded at once. Screaming, talking, whispering. Even those that spoke in near silence seemed to thrum within his head. A reverberation of their words; their desperation. He could hear them howling through the black abyss, calling out to him. Desperate for him to hear; and in their screams found no words.

For it was all lost in the cacophony.

He felt himself slipping beneath the waves. Icy cold water becoming warm. His vision fading.​

Kol's mouth opened as his body suddenly jerked sideways, his form plummeting to the floor of the little cottage as he violently vomited seawater onto the floor. The liquid repulsively hitting the ground and splashing against his sodden clothes.

"Kol!" A voice echoed out from behind him. Estrid, or maybe Elwin as they ducked into the little hovel and rushed over towards him. The other Nordwiir's fingers gently gripping the Shaman's shoulders, pulling him off the ground as a cough continued to wrack his lungs.

As he felt himself pushed back onto the cot his eyes seemed far away, the voices still calling, his own lost within them. "They will drink from the Sea to see."

The words passed his lips, but he was not sure if they were his own.