Private Tales Endirinn

[Brenna]

When.

Brenna forced herself to smile but the doubts churned traitorously in her heart. When was a tall order. She had to survive a treacherous sea crossing, navigate a land and people who would want her dead, and somehow avoid being smitten by the Dark Gods themselves. Then do it all in reverse to get back here. Then there was the troubling idea of perhaps doing that return journey alone. Skad had become a comforting - if annoying - part of her life. Without her it would feel... empty. The comment about the lack of cake only worsened her mood.

"Wiir?" The flaxen-haired shield maiden blinked up at her friend who now hovered by her shoulder like an angel - or a demon. She pulled a face. "I can barely understand my own people," she motioned to her ears. "It is like suddenly being able to understand the wind."

 

[Skad]

"I hope you are understanding the wind. You are sailing the boat," Skad replied, her deadpan delivery making it impossible to tell if she was being cheeky or deadly serious.

"You do not having the choice," Skad continued, placing her mangled hand upon her friend's shoulder. It was left unsaid if the gesture was meant to be comforting or threatening, perhaps it was both. "Most are not speaking common on Eyjarnar."

The Nordwiir paused, a thoughtful expression cresting upon her grizzled features as she considered the potential advantage of Brenna being able to understand her people without them ever knowing. They needed every single edge in the face of those insurmountable odds.

"Eyjarnar is home, it is The Lost Isles," she explained, giving Brenna's shoulder a one-fingered pat before moving to sit, indicating that there was no escape from learning her mother tongue. At the very least, it would provide ample distraction from sitting and considering fate and consequences.

 

[Brenna]

Was that a joke? Were they friends who made jokes with one another now? Brenna pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Joking seemed so at odds with the Nordenwiir way of life but maybe Skad was funny in her own language. A language she was going to have to learn apparently. The momentary spark of humour in their dire quest faded back into reality causing her to sigh. Another language. Brenna scrubbed a hand down her face.

"Eh-jah-rrr-ner," Brenna repeated, wincing at her own bastardisation of the word. Goddess this was going to be a long trip.

Her fears soon became a reality. The journey up the coast passed agonisingly slow. The winds barely filled her sails and at times she and Skad were forced to row, not that that stopped the latter's constant lessons on not only her language, but the Nordenwiir people as a whole. The only reprieve was their brief hunting trip ashore where they spent the evening preparing their kills for the more dangerous leg of their journey.

It was two days later with no sign of land behind or in front of them that Brenna found herself standing by the wheel frowning at the storm brewing on the horizon.

"It looks like your God has caught up with us."

 

[Skad]

Skad did not share in Brenna's suffering as she inflicted a crash course in the Wiir language upon her friend. The languid pace at which they travelled might have scarred the Nordenfiir for life, but every word learned was another crumb of potential advantage to be gained.

To her credit, she was patient by her own standards, understanding that Brenna had only just regained her hearing. She doubted that her companion would be giving speeches to the masses any time soon, but if it was enough to pick up a whispered threat of a blade in the back, then it was worth it. That logic drove Skad, for as patient as she may have been, she was also unrelenting.

It was a small mercy that the Nordwiir had no written word beyond rune carvings denoting the Gods and their domains.

The preparatory hunt might have offered Brenna some reprieve, but it only unnerved Skad. With her blade hand maimed, it was an exercise in newfound impotence. It wasn't that she didn't know where to strike; the woman had honed herself upon the vulnerable flesh of man and beast alike, knowing where to strike to grant blood and death. The problem lay in a lack of strength and dexterity. Poor depth of vision and forced to use her off-hand; had this incarnation of herself served in her own Hæfurkappi, Kin-Slayer may have slain her for being a hindrance.

She attempted to hide her concern from Brenna, her frustration only shown in clenched teeth and strained silences where it could have been passed off as simple nerves.

Eventually, they were as ready as they could have been, setting sail into oblivion and leaving the mainland behind for what might have been the very last time. Skad hoped that thought was wrong, but she had to be realistic; what Saman would have them champion was suicide. Perhaps dying for it would prove that she was not made evil.

"Urutash was never my God," she corrected, her lone eye staring up into the dark mass that would soon engulf them both. Lacking Brenna's experience at sea, Skad opted to salvage some sense of safety by taking a measure of rope and tying herself to the mast with enough free length to still be of some help. The hungering depths of the Köldgröf would have to fight to claim her.

"If we are making it, you are my guide across the sea. That is why you are with me. Do not give Saman's truth yet. If we are not making it together, do not talking about me and find Kol," the woman advised, awkwardly pulling at her less-than-expert knots, a skill reserved for those who actually took prisoners, "he will be good help."

 

[Brenna]

"If I turn up without you, I'm dead," Brenna said flatly. There was no point being coy about it. Even with what little Wiir she had managed to pick up during the last week of travel would not be enough to erase who - or what - she was and convince a Nordenwiir to direct her to Kol. Kol who was, apparently, some revered sorcerer. Or at least by enough people they had formed some kind of cult around him. That had been hard to wrap her head around too, almost as hard as the language. It didn't resonate with the image of the man she knew. The Nordenfiir shook her head to clear her mind of that pointless line of thought.

One challenge at a time.

"What excuse are you going to use that you would pick a Nordenfiir to escort you home?" she couldn't help asking the question that had nagged at her these last few days. For even if she was with Skad - or Kor - surely they would question why one of their greatest enemies was allowed on their shores? Fat droplets of water began to splatter over the deck as they crested the edge of the storm.

 

[Skad]

"You are doubting too much," Skad replied, content that she was well lashed to the mast, "if any bear can be surviving home, then it is Brenna, Mad Bear."

She felt the swell beneath her feet, the growing winds already beginning to jostle their ship in what was only the beginning of Uratash's wrath. Kin-Slayer blindly believed that Haraudur would ensure her safe passage, incapable of that same doubt she chided her friend for. Without that faith, she felt restless.

Could Saman guide them? Did they even have the strength?

"My Hæfurkappi are dead," she offered, raising her voice somewhat to be heard over the sounds of the sea, "you are the best I was finding to sail me back."

A saltwater spray interrupted her, pelting well-worn remnants of clothing that had seen them through so much of their journey. If anything, Brenna could rest assured that Skad had quietly concocted her own lies to tell more hostile members of her people.

"You fucked good, and were willing to bleed for me and Haraudur."

 

[Brenna]

Brenna squinted through the rain in an attempt to keep her eyes on the horizon. Or at least, where she imagined the horizon was. The storm had grown so thick that the dark grey of the sky had melded seamlessly into the frothing waves and it was hard to tell for certain. She just hoped this storm didn't blow them too far off course. With great care, she adjusted the tiller again guiding them through a particularly rough wave. The boat crested then dropped back down into the pit of the sea making her stomach lurch. She'd been so busy concentrating on what she was doing that it took longer than she would like to admit to work out what exactly Skad had said... and meant.

She spluttered.

"What?!"

The God chose that moment to clap his hands together sending a thunderous noise rolling across the waves. Brenna clapped her hands over her ears with a yelp.

 

[Skad]

In one of Skad's less dignified moments, she responded to the large swell by crouching down like a wary frog. If it hadn't been entirely evident that the Nordwiir was not a seafaring sort, then her attempt to seek a lower centre of gravity in the face of turbulence made it clear.

Uratash made his threat, a tremendous boom across the skies that signalled his wrath. They were mere insects within his realm, errant souls to be claimed as bloated flesh upon the bed below.

"I would not keeping you if you did not have use and were not willing!" Skad shouted back, having switched from frog to spider as they crested another ferocious wave. The last thing she wanted was to topple over and crack her head on the deck, even if she looked ridiculous. "We do not keep suðurmynni slaves!"

On the topic of slavery, it was less a matter of morality and more a matter of resources. Not that the Nordwiir would scream the intricacies of her culture over the rage of the sea.

The turbulence of the Köldgröf did not sit well within her gut, and on hand and knee, Skad's forehead touched upon the wood beneath her. She could feel her mouth water in anticipation of losing her supper, and that was with the knowledge that they had only crested the edge of the storm.

"This is-" she interrupted herself with a dry heave, "-worst than first time!"

 

[Brenna]

"Oh well that makes it much better," Brenna seethed as she peeled her hands away from her ears. It had done nothing to dampen the horrific noise of the thunderclap and her sensitive ears still rang with the echo. Keeping one hand tightly wrapped around the spindles of the wheel she cast her eyes around for something she could use to block them. As loathe as she was to hamper any part of her restored hearing she knew it was the sensible thing to do. She didn't know for certain how the Goddess had healed her and whether it could be undone with over exposure so soon to loud noises, but either way she preferred to err on the edge of caution.

The ship lurched beneath their feet as they hit another crest and spray hit the deck sweeping anything loose off into the murky depths below. Brenna pointlessly wiped the rain from her eyes.

"Well you didn't call down a God last time," the wheel tried to rip itself from her hands and with gritted teeth she braced against it, keeping the ship from spinning side on into another wave. Instead she steered them round and on into the maelstrom.

The storm greeted them like a challenger on the battlefield: each wave might as well have been a well aimed spear or sword thrust, and the thunder and roar of the waves were the drums of war. Brenna's skull rang with noise even after she dared take one hand off the wheel to stopper her ears with bits of oil cloth. How ironic that she would wish for the past twenty years to have her hearing returned to her, only to wish it away again after a week.

"We're getting close to the centre now!" she nodded towards where the ominous darkness that had been a pinprick when they had first started now swallowed the whole horizon

 

[Kol]

"Please." Kol begged. His voice a narrow rasp whispered against the earth as he lay prostrate upon the floor. His head bowed against the blackened stone of the Lost Isles, his knees pressed into the hard pebbls of the beach. "Please."

He whispered again, the haggard retch of his voice barely audible above the sound of the waves.

Behind him stood the twins, each dressed within the traditional garb of their tribe. Intricate lines of crimson crossed their skin, drawn with patterns so ancient they had long been forgotten within this world. Their eyes were filled with concern as they stared down at a man they had once respected, but their lips moved all the same.

A chant calling out, again and again.

"Til himins og hafs. Til himins og hafs. Til himins og hafs. Blðd fyrir himinn og haf."​

They sang again and again, their voices reverberating and growing louder as they sang. The call echoing and sounding out like so many other voices in the Shaman's skull. His forehead pressed against the jagged rocks, pushing, pushing, until he felt agony lancing through his skull. "Please."

He begged again, desperation, need, so obvious within his mind.

"Be silent." Kol whispered as the chant rang out above him. The sound of it swirling and joining with the voices that screamed within his mind. They were a raucous cacophony, an endless whirling mass of noise which blotted out all around him. His eyes squeezed shot, and blood spilled from his forehead as he forced his skull against the stone. "Let me find him."

They will die.

BLOOD. BLOOD. GIVE ME THE BLOOD!

You will never be whole.

Your mind is mine, little Shaman. Mine and mine and mine!

Let them die. Let them all die.​

Through the voices and the noise he searched, through the endless caophony of screaming gods he hunted. The agony of it all growing with each passing second. "LET ME FIND HIM!"

The words ripped from Kol's lungs, as he whipped up from the ground. Crimson spilling down his face and into his eyes. The voices, as if cowed, suddenlny growing silent. Their shouting echoes flowing away in an instant until all he heard was Estrid and Elwin's chants.

Blissful peace. Silence.

It had been so long, so very long since there had been nothing within his own skull. Tears welled within his eyes, mixing with the slow rivers of crimson spilling from his forehead. His body seemed to shake, a slow breath drawing into his lungs.

Then the clap of thunder echoed along the sea.

Waves crashed against the rocks, speckles of frozen sea casting against the Nordwirr's bare torso as the oceans themselves began their shout. The skies above darkened, and the crimson upon the black stones before him began to wash away always seeking more.

The thunder clapped once more. The sound resounding and shaking the Shaman's bones, the whole of him shuddering as Uratash called. His voice not heard within Kol's skull, but upon the very earth. The twin's chant nearly breaking as the sound shook their very voices. "I hear you."

Kol called into the winds which threatened to sweep the breath from his lungs.

"I HEAR YOU!" The Shaman shouted at the top of his lungs, rain cutting against his broken skin. "I hear you."

The words turned to a whisper as the air around him seemed to still. Strange black flecks peeled from the stones surrounding Kol. Drawing into the air and raising up like a storm of ash. The twins chant died as they saw the Shaman's magic. Panic filling their eyes as the torrent of rain and cut of the waves seemed to still.

Then the storm came truly.

It tore not through the air but into the Shaman's flesh. His skin bulging, tearing, ripping. Bones cracking and breaking. Teeth rattling and fingers curling into fists as untold agony strove through his body. The torrent of Uratash tearing not at the world, but Kol, Twice Bloodied.

Pain and agony suffused him, driving into every muscle, every bone and tendon. His scream echoing out, but muted to his ears by the calls of thunder and the howls of wind. Kol's lungs burning as he shouted, and his hand extending towards the air.

The twins watched behind him as the storm shifted within his flesh. Drawing and tearing within his skin. Pulling into his arm and dragging itself slowly as if pulled into Kol's palm. Blood sprayed and splattered as the hurricane of force tore apart his flesh. He screamed as the agony was nearly too much to carry, too much to hold.

His voice failed him as the storm slipped into his hand, and then he grabbd the ax.

With one swift motion, Kol slammed his hand down upon the black rocks of the Lost Isles, and with a single stroke severed his palm.

The sea growing silent as a wave claimed Uratash's prize.

 

[Skad]

Skad might have suspected that Brenna would not soon let go of her slight indiscretion of invoking Uratash's wrath. She might have, were she not desperately trying to hold down her last palatable meal for the foreseeable future.

The opportunity for any retort was lost in the roar around them as the constant barrage of sea spray took umbrage with Skad's existence upon hand and knee, seeking to sweep the Nordwiir off the deck at every opportunity. Every wave felt like a hail of stones loosened from a venomous sling, and a newfound respect was born for her friend, who had so far managed to remain at the wheel.

If only those who had accused Brenna of being fragile could see her now.

As the centre of divine wrath consumed them, the tempest worsened, battering their boat like a predator toying with prey. The rope that Skad had secured herself to the mast with proved to be an astute decision as the woman found herself rocked to the side of the vessel and very nearly swept overboard on several occasions. Eventually, she was stuck fast, clinging to groaning wood that threatened to splinter and silently praying to Saman that her knots and the mast would hold.

How cruel it would have been to have gotten this far, those trials and tribulations dragged beneath the depths, their revelations nothing more than a bloated corpse at the coldest of graves.

With her eye shut in the whipping maelstrom and ears consumed by the howling fury, all Skad could do was feel every juddering motion and crashing leap upon the waves, her jaw set and teeth grit as if all the tension in her body could save them. The strain set into muscles bound tight as cords that held on to see a different Endirinn. It might have only been minutes, but in the same breath, eternity.

But then something changed...

The next lurch was not as savage as the last.

The wind soothed enough that she could hear herself think.

The pelt of rain no longer stung like hail.

Skad dared to open her eye, only to find a storm half-tamed. Still, the Köldgröf churned, and the sky remained marred by clouds, but it was no longer the face of Uratash's vengeful fury. This was not her first concern, however.

"Brenna! Are you still with me?!" the Nordwiir called out, twisting her body around to see if a mad Nordenfiir still manned the helm.

 

[Brenna]

Brenna could no longer tell which way was East or West, up or down. There was only the storm, raging and unrelenting surrounding them. The black of the sky had infected the monstrous waves below so no tiny crack of light could penetrate and help differentiate between the two. She wondered, in some detached, hysterical moment, whether this is what Brigitte with her shining bow had felt when she was devoured by Jaerl - the Great Sea Wyrm. Another wave lashed the deck of her small boat, sweeping her legs out from under her. With cold and blistered fingers she desperately clung to the spindles of the wheel. To let go meant death.

The boat righted itself and Brenna dragged herself to her feet. She wasn't sure how much many more times she would find the strength to stand again. Which wave would be her final one? She dragged down a ragged breath of air and wiped the mix of sweat, blood and sea spray from her face. Was that... light? Brenna raised her hand to shield her eyes and squinted at the horizon where a thin line appeared. It reached out towards them like a loving mother, soothing sky and sea like she would a child's cuts and bruises. The Nordenfiir slumped against the wheel and sobbed in relief.

"I'm... here," she croaked. Sensing the nearing safety her body seemed to give up to exhaustion. Her legs gave way and were it not for the wheel she still held, she would have fallen to the deck.

 

[Skad]

The sight of Brenna still at the helm was a more tremendous relief than the land cresting upon the horizon. Her once stoic face, bruised and now pink from the lash of the storm, broke into a haggard grin, every chipped and broken tooth taking a moment to celebrate one small victory in the face of still-certain death.

Her remaining fingers fumbled at the knot around her waist, and her arms were shaking in the aftermatch of holding on so tight.

When she had eventually freed herself from the precautionary bindings, Skad staggered towards her friend, who had safely guided them through Uratash's wrath. Perhaps there was more at play, reasons beyond her understanding for the sudden softening of the sea. Saman's intervention, perhaps? It did not matter; what mattered was the Nordenfiir at the helm.

"You did it," the Nordwiir said in a subdued murmur, refraining from laying a hand upon the woman's shoulder lest she crumple to the deck. "You have getting us through the storm."

As the barren land grew closer in view, Skad offered Brenna her shoulder for support. Her legs had not braved the same punishment and would be able to support them both. That single-eyed stare caught a flash of black amidst the grey skies, a kaldurhrafn circling above in what would usually be a grim omen but instead felt like a welcome from Eyjarnar. The black corvid flew ahead as if guiding them to the shore.

<"I am home.">

 

[Brenna]

Brenna took the offer of support with a grateful, weary nod. The challenge had not even fully begun and her body felt as though it needed a weeks worth of rest. She did not want to linger on the thought this might be the easiest part of their monumental task. With care she removed the oil cloths from her ears, wincing as the scabs broke anew. Thankfully it seemed the damage was only minor and she hoped it would clear in a few days.

<"Home."> Brenna repeated - terribly - and fixed her eyes on the approaching crag of land with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. How many stories had she heard of the lands of the Dark Gods? How many bedtime stories had left her frightened and checking beneath her bed for shadowed monsters? Now, here she was. Beside a Nordenwiir she called a friend no less.

<"What happen now?"> she winced at her own butchering of the language.

 

[Skad]

She hadn't expected Brenna to repeat her words in Wiir, never mind asking a follow-up question. Perhaps it was because she had taught the Nordenfiir for practicality's sake rather than any other reason. For a few seconds, she stared at the top of the other woman's head as a bemused smile crept towards the corner of her mouth.

<"We need to find out where we are,"> Skad answered slowly, taking care to speak her native tongue as properly as she could.

Even before they had met the land, the woman could eliminate a few locations from her mind. It was not green enough to be Ríkur, not white enough to be Tinda. There was a fair chance they had happened upon the mainland, Aðal, but she could not be entirely sure. That was the problem with the vast tundra; everything tended to look the same.

<"Eyrr will be the best place to seek out Kol. It is the largest Nordwiir settlement.">

Skad glanced upwards, noting the heavy cloud coverage that would obscure the guidance of stars with a soft grunt. Of course, there was more than one way to navigate the Lost Isles.

<"We will land here and seek out a..."> the woman began before pausing and switching to the common tongue for Brenna's benefit, "...we are looking for a rock. A leiðar. Rocks with markings to help knowing where you are. They are all over. Once we are knowing, then we can sailing coast for Eyrr."

Feeling the weight of the Nordwiir she supported and knowing how weary they were from the storm, she offered a slight head nudge like a friendly goat.

"Do you wanting to resting first?"

 

[Brenna]

Brenna's nose scrunched up with the effort of trying to keep up with Skad's words. Relearning how the Common Tongue sounded was hard enough, and she suspected her own native tongue would be even harder, but Wiir... She thought she understood every few words. We... find... where. Best... place Kol... place-of-houses. No, wait that wasn't right. Was it? She was so busy scrambling over the final word and whether it meant city, town, village or something more general, that she missed Skad's next sentence. Relief flickered across her face when she switched back to Common. It still wasn't easy but at least reading her lips was familiar.

"Yes," her lips kicked up at the gentle butt. "Please. I think I swallowed half the Ocean on the way here," she gave a hoarse laugh which turned into a coughing fit soon after as though to iterate her point. "Can you hold her fast whilst I check the supplies?"

 

[Skad]

"Hold her fast," Skad repeated, the individual words making sense but seeming like absolute nonsense as a collective. How did one hold quickly? Who was she meant to be holding? The Nordwiir, however, managed to pick up on the context clues that Brenna asked for her to take the wheel so that she could take stock. "I can do that. Maybe."

She took the wheel from her friend, her left hand having to put in extra work to compensate for the remaining finger and thumb of her right.

"Trying not to drinking the Köldgröf next time," Skad offered, the strange vowels of her accent once more making her statement ambiguous. Was she joking? Or being deadly serious with patently obvious advice? "Maybe closing mouth when sailing, yes?"

 

[Brenna]

Brenna's eyes narrowed.

"I had never thought of that before, how stupid of me," were all Nordenwiir jokes like this? Or... did they just let outsiders assume they were joking? Another headache to navigate in the days ahead, though she doubted there would be much humour among those they tried to convert to their cause. With a sigh she left Skad to handle the ship to hobble round the whole vessel. She checked ropes and broke strats, made notes of which sails needed repairing and the parts she had lost to the depths. Considering the severity of the storm the ship wasn't in a bad state, but they would definitely be limping until they could get to port.

When she returned to Skad to take over the helm she said, "Best pick a good spot you want me to pull in, I'm not sure if I'll be able to get her back onto the sea once we dock. There's a lot that needs fixing."

 

[Skad]

"Good luck that you are having me to keep you right," Skad commented, fully aware that Brenna had done most, if not all, of the heavy lifting in their journey together. The Nordenfiir had not only saved her life from the inevitable death of the poison, but she had guided her, a blind hindrance, in the efforts to find a cure even when she had made things worse with her abrasive nature and violence against those villagers.

As she surveyed the approaching land of home, she couldn't help but acknowledge that she had been nothing but a hindrance as a companion. Had it not been for the intervention of Saman...

There was little point in dwelling; instead, she made a silent promise to guide her friend through the trials and tribulations that Eyjarnar would undoubtedly bring. Where quarter was given, The Lost Isles would take—the bite of the elements, the claws of her beasts, the blades of the Wiir.

Brenna would survive this; Skad owed her that much.

"How long are you thinking the fixing will take?" She asked as the Nordenfiir resumed her duties at the helm, lone eye scanning the coast for any sign of immediate danger, "There is a..."

Skad's sentence faltered as she struggled to find the common word for an inlet. After a few stagnant seconds, the woman gave up and grunted, instead pointing towards the relatively sheltered cove in the distance with her maimed hand.

"...you can pulling in there."

 

[Brenna]

"I don't know," Brenna gave a tired sigh and eyed the mast. There was a nasty split in the wood that meant it wobbled in a worrying fashion as they sailed towards the cove. "I can patch it, but fixing it requires more skills than what I have," her brother would have been able to fix it but ship making had never really interested the shieldmaiden. She had always favoured her father's line of work. Not that she had the tools anyway to make a new mast even if she had had the skills. Perhaps there were shipmakers in the city Skad had spoken of.

"It'll take a day or so to do the patches," after a good nights sleep. As the boat cruised through the narrow entrance to the cove Brenna was all but slumped over the wheel for support. Exhaustion had etched itself into every line of her body. If anyone had watched as she jumped overboard to moor the boat, they might have thought she were drunk from the amount of times she stumbled or had to redo a knot. Eventually though the boat was secure and with Skad's help they removed the provisions they would need to make camp for the night. Once they were set up Brenna through herself down onto her roll mat beside the pitiful fire with a relieved sigh.

 

[Skad]

Brenna deserved the rest after doing the lion's share of the work to get them this far, which left Skad awake and sitting cross-legged on her bedroll.

It wasn't particularly wise to camp anywhere without at least one person on watch duty, never mind on the shores of Eyjarnar. Returning home only to wake up to a blade at their throats on the first night was hardly ideal, assuming the local fauna wouldn't have found and eaten them first.

During the night, the clouds above began to break up, offering fleeting glimpses of the cosmos above. She stared upwards, snatching those brief glimmers and finding comfort in the familiarity. The stars above must have been one of the few things that Wiir and Fiir shared, perhaps by virtue of the fact that mortal men could not claim the sky.

The fire eventually petered out due to a lack of fuel rather than the wind's chill, as the small cove was relatively sheltered. Their arrival coincided with the end of Magurvetur, as planned, offering something of a reprieve from winter's bite. The cold wasn't pleasant to sit in, giving way to pink extremities, but it was tolerable.

Before Skad could put much thought into their next adversary, shadows shifted upon the horizon.

Keeping a cool head, the woman stood before offering her companion a slight nudge with her foot to rouse her. The shapes grew closer, from their size: three adult kaldabatur and their riders. In Brenna's brief education on Wiir society, Skad had explained the importance of the frost boars. Not only did they provide tough hides and tougher meat, but they were the chosen mount of her people. Many had tried to bring over horses, but every attempt found the animals failing to adapt to wicked conditions.

Skad swiftly folded her arms across her chest, tucking her maimed hand underneath her arm to hide any trace of physical weakness. She looked back to her companion with a grimace, "Calm, but be ready." As she turned back to face the approaching trio, any trace of expression evaporated from Nordwiir's face. A practised skill, leaving her empty and unreadable.

Only one man dismounted his boar and approached on foot as if to douse the potential aggression in the air. The others lingered back, observing in the dark from afar. Even at night, their outlines were still visible. One a towering mass, and the other small and slight, at least by Wiir standards.

<"What a fine vessel!"> The man on foot hollered, his tone jovial as if trying to pre-emptively douse potential tempers. It didn't make him any more trustworthy; this was a land where actions had the final say and words ultimately fell by the wayside.

Proximity illuminated his face, and the shadows cast under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks were only deepened by the dark. His hair was unkempt, shoulder-length, and the colour of burnt wood. A black beard obscured his jaw and helped pad out lean facial features. He stood a mite taller than Skad herself, and while his face was gaunt and body was slender, it was clear that he was not wracked by starvation. Most importantly, he was not armed.

<"What do you want?"> Skad asked, blunt and unmoving as he stopped only a few feet from her.

<"Ah! Does Kin-Slayer not deserve a welcome home?"> He returned with a smile, revealing a checkerboard of missing teeth.

Her face remained rigid, his words set to unnerve and with good reason. Why, and more importantly, how did anybody know that they had landed, let alone that they had sailed across the Köldgröf? Already, they were at a disadvantage. Before she could reply, he struck again with a new question:

<"And who,"> he began, his head turning to where the Nordenfiir was, that same grin lingering, <"is this one?">

 

[Brenna]

When Brenna opened her eyes she couldn't remember straight away where she was. The sky above was her own but the tree line and cove... unfamiliar. She blinked her bleary eyes at the fire in an attempt to clear the dreams that still clung to her lashes. Years of training that the nudge of a foot was a sign to get up was the only thing that had her scrambling to her feet beside Skad. Skad... the storm... slowly the memories trickled back to her along with the sinking reminder of where she was and thus who exactly was walking towards them.

Nervously she loosened the axe in its frog.

Her blue eyes flickered back and forth between her friend and the newcomer, attempting to keep up with the conversation. Her eyes automatically went to their lips even though it did no good with the unfamiliar language and she forced herself to try and focus on other things, like the way this stranger walked and held himself, looking for any physical weakness. She knew enough to understand the question and that it was directed at her but still she looked to Skad first, unsure whether it was wise to speak.

 

[Skad]

Skad took the opportunity of her companion's wordless glance and ran with it. As callous as it seemed, it was preferable that Brenna did not take her chance to speak. She could forge the moment into deferential steel; it was their planned story, at any rate.

<"That is my helmsman,"> Skad spoke, tilting her head upwards in a gesture that sought to bring the man's attention back to her. <"She is southern and does not speak Wiir. Pay her no mind.">

His eyes still wandered back to Brenna, lingering for an unwanted moment or two. The leering intent was unmistakable even in the dark until it settled upon the Nordenfiir's axe. His grin twitched, curling further upwards in a manner that Skad found irksome.

<"Comely for a southerner,"> he commented wryly, his attention back to Skad, who remained an impassive wall devoid of emotion. Behind the mask, she found his intent abhorrent and that stirring of internal contempt perturbed her.

<"I presume you are not here to wet your dick. Who are you, why are you here, and how did you know of our arrival?">

<"She said you were blunt...or was it a cunt? You know, it might have been bo-">

<"You are wasting my time.">

Frustratingly, they were still on the back foot, at least in the sense of information. In terms of an active physical presence, they held the advantage. Brenna could have cut him down on a word, levelling the numbers game with a single stroke. It was a pity she was attempting to abstain from death, at least for the time being.

<"Sar, All-Seeing,"> the man relented, his smug aura not even bruised by Skad's abrupt nature. It seemed that he was well aware of the cards held in his hand, <"and your arrival was foretold by our Prestsfrú.>

A Prestsfrú? It wasn't a word easily translated into common, the closest approximation being shaman, although it didn't entirely cover the realm of their role within Wiir society. Could it be Kol? The man had never adorned such a title, but his abilities could have easily marked him as one. The thought was interrupted by a hand upon her shoulder, this Sar reaching out as if they were familiar.

<"We're here to take you home, where you belong.">

 

[Brenna]

Of course Skad had taught Brenna the word for dick. In fact, several words for it and how it could be used both affectionately and - more often - as an insult. She didn't need to know the context around it in this case however to infer what Skad was talking about, not when their new 'friend' kept looking at her like a piece of meat. Though in Nordenwiir culture maybe he really did see her as a piece of meat; Skad had said that food was scarce up here. She stroked her thumb up and down the shaft of her axe almost hoping for a reason to launch it.

Her whole body stiffened when the man stepped into Skad's space and attempted to put a hand on his shoulder. Before she could think of the consequences of her actions she caught his wrist before it could land and pushed back rather firmly. Skad had told her not to show kindness, that the Wiir only respected strength.

<Fuck off.>

 

[Skad]

In approximately twenty seconds, Brenna had gone from the silent helmsman to the aggressor with an axe to grind.

Skad couldn't say that she anticipated the reaction, not entirely sure if the Nordenfiir had taken umbrage with his sinister leering intent or that he had moved to lay a hand upon her. Nonetheless, she had to act as if it were anticipated, although given who she was, it meant remaining completely unphased, which, thankfully, was her signature move.

<"Your helmsman has quite the tongue, Kin-Slayer,"> he remarked with a step back, raising both hands in a gesture of peace. His rotten grin, however, only indicated a depraved thrill born from Brenna's aggression. <"Is that why you keep her around?">

<"She has her uses,"> Skad replied, her lack of inflexion standing in direct opposition with his dripping implication, <"and also an axe. You should mind yourself, Sar, lest she feels the need to use it.">

The chosen envoy of the trio's lip curled, and something deeper than base perversion glinted in eyes obscured by the night. <"It's no fun if there's no fight.">

<"You mentioned a she,"> Skad spoke, cutting off the conversation before it further deviated into something found amidst the bowels of sex and violence. She didn't need either of their impulses bringing forth havoc precisely half a day after they had arrived. <"Who is she?">

Sar's attention finally returned to the one-eyed woman, his grin simmering down into something more serious. A relief.

<"Our Æðri, an old acquaintance of yours.">

<"Who?">

<"It is not my place to say,"> he conceded with an apologetic shrug of the shoulders.

Skad considered the morsel of intrigue laid before them with the eye of a woman looking for a trap. It was long etched in stone that she was not a woman with friends; rather, she was a woman with more enemies than scars. An unnamed acquaintance was no incentive.

<"You can go now,"> she finally replied, still standing with her arms folded across her chest, <"We are not interested.">

<"I understand. I wouldn't trust it either,"> Sar chuckled, his gaze wandering to Brenna for just a taste, <"But we're not your enemy. We know that you come on the tides of change, and we welcome that.">

A soft grunt left the back of Skad's throat, practically an outburst in her stoic formation. The man knew too much, avoiding specifics while teetering on the edge of dangerous clairvoyance. It wasn't the disadvantage she had been expecting on these shores.

<"Would they welcome you in Ulsta? Or Eyrr?"> He pressed, with a shrug of the shoulders, <"Or would they seek retribution for their brothers and sisters, who should have returned to our shores with you? Can her axe fell an entire town? We offer food, shelter and safety, does your current course guarantee the same?">

The man wasn't wrong. Their predicted reception here was not one of warmth, but it was at least, expected. This was not expected, and in that churned the unpredictability of what could follow. It could have just as easily been a smiling trap set by opportunistic knives rather than the brunt of open fury. Trust was a rare currency, and one that the dead could not spend.

<"And what do you get out of this?">

He spread his arms, grinning as if the answer to her question was obvious. <"We get Kin-Slayer, of course, and her axe!"> With a flourish he gestured to Skad with one hand, before doing to same towards Brenna with the other.

<"Return to your allies and wait. I will think on this.">

Quite remarkably, without another word the man turned on his heel and obliged. His willingness to turn his back on them was a statement of implicit trust and one that only muddied the waters further.

Skad never moved, waiting until the man was out of earshot before she addressed her friend.

"I thought you were going to do the killing," she commented, turning her head to look at her Nordenfiir companion, "would have been much complicating," she considered those words again, "or maybe less complicating."

Given Skad's former modus operandi, it certainly would have made their choice a simple one.

"How much did you understanding?"