Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Drowning in Sin (heartlesskitten x Kuro)

Cerdic was strapping on the belt that held the bearded axe and shrugged, "I know about war and creating fear in your enemy is a good way to make him back down. If you can intimidate him enough that he retreats or offers peace without blood being spilled, then it is worth it. You just showed your father that you are not just the unwanted bastard that can't wield a sword. What are swords when faced with the anger of the gods?"

He went over to where Vigi paced and took him by the shoulders, looking directly at him, "I may already be damned to hell but let's say you brought those storms about. The Jarl would have to be thick as an oak to not see what an asset you are at his side rather than to be his enemy."

Giving him a hearty squeeze, Cerdic pulled back and picked up his shield, "There's only one way to tell. We face him."

He frowned a little at his use of the word "we", it was Vigi's battle not his, he was only there to act as a human shield. Slipping the shield onto his arm, he went out the door, glancing back expectantly.
 
Vigi frowned briefly before taking in a deep breath and nodding. Cerdic was right, he knew he was and that was why he did this. He was only panicking because today he would have to be face to face with his father.

Gods only knew what would happen.

He finished getting ready before joining Cerdic at the door. A sudden impulse came over him and he closed the short distance between them. He pushed Cerdic against the wall of the hut and kissed him fiercely, his tongue pushing his way past his lips to taste him.

After a few moments he pulled back, staring into Cerdic’s eyes while breathing heavily against his lips. “Just in case,” He rumbled with a small smirk. “Things go wrong, I wanted to indulge one last time.” He kissed the Christian again, this one more chaste and softer before he pulled away to head for the dock.

==

Walking through the village Vigi’s face was a mask of indifference. He nodded his head to people that greeted him respectfully, but he didn’t stop to chat or try to sell anything. His destination was the Great Hall.

His heart was pounding in his chest and his palms were sweating, but in no way did he let the fear he was feeling show on his face.

When they reached the Hall, warriors were standing outside the steps and speaking to each other. As Vigi and Cerdic grew closer, they stopped talking to look at them. Vigi felt his heart leap up into his throat, but didn’t break his stride and the warriors silently parted for them.

He pushed open the heavy door of the Great Hall and saw his father and his wife seated on their high chairs. He also saw Sven standing nearby along with the Jarl’s housekarl. All of them stopped their conversation to look at him.

“Everyone, leave!” The Jarl’s voice bellowed and the people that were in the room, slave or not quickly left through the closest door they could find. When the last person had gone Vigi walked further into the now empty hall, with a confidence he did not truly feel.

tumblr_muexb8piIM1qhspalo2_250.gif

tumblr_muexb8piIM1qhspalo4_250.gif


“Hello.” Vigi greeted them all, stopping a respectful distance from the chairs the Jarl and his wife sat on.

Álarr glared at him with fire in his pale eyes. “You are fortunate your childish tantrum did not damage our crops.” He growled out, both Sven and Geira gave him a similar look.

“I was within my rights.” Vigi responded, looking over at Sven and their eyes locked. He felt a sense of reassurance in his brother’s gaze so Vigi relaxed his hands from fists. “The treatment I have received as of late has been unacceptable.”

“We realize and understand this.” Geira spoke up. “And you have made your point and your power known.”

“I do not wish to bring misery to these people.” Vigi said, motioning his hand to the door to indicate the village beyond the Hall’s walls. “So if things do not change then I shall leave and never return.”

Sven straightened at the statement and turned a look between surprise and anger toward their father. Obviously he hadn’t thought such a thing was a possibility.

“I’m sorry Sven.” Vigi spoke to his brother with a slight frown. “But if the abuse continues, then I will have no other choice.”

Sven took in a deep breath and slowly nodded. “I understand.”

“Then the question is,” Vigi turned his gaze to his father with a glower. “Will things change?”

Álarr visibly tightened his jaw. “Yes. It will.”

“You will no longer belittle me? You will no longer strike me and attempt to control me with violence?” He asked.

“Yes.” The older man breathed out heavily. “It was...wrong of me to strike you.”

Vigi doubted the man was sincere, the words came out very forced and it was not an apology. “Do you have an apology?” He asked.

Geira and the housekarl looked to each other with slightly startled expressions.

“Apologize? You have my admittance I was wrong.” Álarr growled at him, clenching his hand into a fist. “Do not push me boy.”

“Do you not push me.” Vigi snapped, taking a step forward with his hands clenched into fists. “All I hear from you are words, insincere words. Until I see real change I do not believe a word you tell me.”

Álarr snarled and stood up from his chair while drawing his sword.

Vigi gasped and instantly took a step back, fear washing over him like cold water.
 
With the unexpected kiss still tingling on his lips, Cerdic followed Vigi closely as they walked down the muddy road towards the village. He could see the people out inspecting their property and fields. Truthfully, the rain could be a blessing if this was it and the sun might shine for a week the crops would grow wildly but if it started raining again and flooded the fields, it would be a hungry winter. The Hall loomed at the center of the town and Cerdic girded himself for what might happen as Vigi confronted the thick headed Jarl. His hand flexed instinctively near the hilt of the axe as they passed under the eyes of the housekarl.

If the Jarl attacked his son, it would fall to the Saxon to defend him and no doubt Sven and the housekarl and God knows how many other guards were around would be on him. Cerdic might not last long but maybe enough time for the shaman to make an escape. It was a thin hope but there it was. He prayed for God to give the Jarl some good sense to see it was not all brute force that was needed to rule.

He stood back, his body taut and alert as if he was in a shield wall, waiting for the enemy to charge. The muscles of his forearm stood out as he held the shield, the tension clear in his body language. As the conversation grew more heated, Cerdic glanced at Sven and the Jarl, trying to judge what they might do. Vigi was not going to back down without a full apology and while he understood the sentiment, perhaps the admittance of wrong doing should be enough for now. A man like the Jarl was stiff necked and did not bend easily, he would snap.

The moment he saw the big man reach for his sword, the rasp of steel on leather seemed to ring loud in Cerdic's ears, he was moving. Rushing to put himself between his master and the Jarl Alarr, he raised his shield defensively. The axe was gripped in his other hand, held low but in a manner that held threat. The Saxon slave's eyes were flinty and hard as he met the furious stare of the nobleman.
 
"Stop!" Sven shouted, quickly stepping onto the stairs leading up to the Jarl's seat and putting a hand on his father's shoulder. "Both of you stop." He said firmly, looking at his father then over at his brother. "This constant bickering is getting us no where and is only tearing a wider divide in our ranks."

Sven shook his head and made a frustrated sound in his throat, running his hand over his beard. "We need to stand untied for Gods sake. This petty feud between you two has gone on for long enough and I will not stand to be in the middle of it anymore. Today is the day that this foolishness ends. But it will not end through force," He glared at his father as the man sheathed his sword. "And it will not be through magic." He turned his glare to Vigi and he dropped his gaze.

Sven pointed to the doors of the hall. "Vigi, please leave, go off and walk the forests and clear your head. Once you've both calmed down, come back and we will attempt to settle this like bloody adults."

Vigi felt a small sting hearing Sven order him to leave, but knew it was for the best. He had gotten too heated and demanded too much too soon of the stubborn Jarl. "Cerdic." He called to the slave, lifting his head and turning to leave the Hall. There was a small gathering of the Hall's warriors at the door when he opened it and he glared at them. "You're all a bunch of gossiping old women." He said with a snort, hoping that they heard none of what happened inside because it was rather embarrassing.

Once again the crowd parted for him and Cerdic and Vigi started on a path toward a grove of trees. "Well, that was a disaster." He muttered to Cerdic once they were alone as they walked. "I got too heated didn't I?" He asked rhetorically with a sigh, running a hand over his face.
 
Cerdic did not lower his shield until the Jarl sheathed his sword. His face was stoic though his knees threatened to unload him onto the ground. He thanked God for Sven's quick thinking, for he knew even if he successfully defended Vigi against the Jarl he would be a marked man. And woe to him if he had to kill the leader. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked after Vigi once he was asked to leave. Warily he watched any warrior that might want to curry favor with the old man and slay his troublesome disowned bastard.

In the grove, Cerdic leaned his shield up against a tree and crossed his arms, "You did. You've got your father's temper if nothing else. Not quite a disaster, you got your point across but the Jarl is stubborn and prideful, you just pushed too hard, too fast. But you saw your brother sided with you, in his way."

Thinking for a moment, Cerdic considered his next words, "Give it some time, do not back down from your demands. Your rightful place is at his side but keep in mind, with your...power, you'd find a place anywhere to serve. Your father is just being stubborn because he feels ashamed that you were not a warrior. Any other Jarl would not care, they would pay you for your magic."

Rolef watched the pair pass, his dark eyes glinting with interest. Just as on the ship, that seidrmadr was causing Sven trouble. His loyalty to his strange twin was going beyond admirable to foolhardy. But that worked in Rolef's favor, so he made no comment about it. Once they had departed, he entered the Hall. He was dressed in a fine dark golden wool tunic and rich brown breeches, his soft leather boots finely made, stolen from an English lord. Rolef's bronze and silver arm rings glinted in the hearth light and the soft clinking of the rings in his beard could be heard in the quiet as he approached. Taking a knee, he bowed to the Jarl, "My lord, I hope I'm not intruding, I wish to call on your daughter once more."

His eyes cut to Sven, giving a small smirk that was hidden mostly under his beard. It was a trying time for the man, he had to balance between doing as his father wished and defending his ergi brother. And Rolef would use the strain to his benefit.
 
Vigi sighed and leaned against a tree, tilting his head back against the trunk and shutting his eyes. "I feel horrible for Sven, my father and I hate each other but we both care about him. He's stuck between us and it must ware on him terribly." Vigi said, opening his eyes and looking up at the sunlight slipping through the bright green leaves of the trees. "But maybe that will be enough to sway my father to bend just a little so we can put this hostility mostly to rest."

He lowered his head to look at Cerdic, his lips twitching up slightly. "Impressive reflexes you had back there. My father had barely drawn his sword and you were right in front of me with your axe ready."

Sven lowered his hand from where he was rubbing his forehead, narrowing his eyes at Rolef when he entered in such fine clothing. As though the clashing tempers of his brother and father weren't enough, he must also deal with the man trying to court his half sister.

Álarr was still simmering in his chair with rage at the encounter with his disowned son and waved his hand at Rolef's request. "You may, she is off in the back practicing her fighting." He grunted, shifting in his chair and letting out a heavy breath. "At least you provided me with an honorable second child." He said to his wife and she responded with a proud smile.
 
Taking his leave, Rolef went around back, sauntering out to where Arnleif was sparring with one of the house guards. By the look of it, she had him on his heels and ready to make the killing strike if it was a real fight. The raider walked around, studying the tall young woman. Certainly she was not fairest but she was striking and had a way about her that made men pay attention. If he wanted just a soft thing to warm his bed, he would just buy a slave girl. Arnleif was proud and had fire, she would make a good Jarl's wife. His wife. Smirking slightly, he clapped as the house guard yielded on his knees.

"Why don't you practice with someone that's actually killed before," he said, casually picking up a practice shield and reaching for his bearded axe, spinning it in his hand. His dark eyes looked her over, studying her lithe body. "Unless you worry about sparring a real warrior. Do you play or do you fight to kill?"

His smile made the large scar on his cheek crinkle and Rolef was suddenly concious of it. It marred his handsome features, the result of a duel with another raider who claimed he had stolen from him. That claim was answered and he sent the other man to Valhalla.
 
Arnleif looked over to Rolef and smirked, bringing up her axe to rest on her shoulder as her eyes flicked over him. "Are you saying I am no real warrior?" She asked him, adjusting her grip on her shield. "Make no mistake my dear Rolef, I fight to kill." She growled playfully. "Besides it doesn't look as though you are dressed for a quick sparring match." She observed, motioning to how fine he was dressed with her shield.

"Why are you here dressed like a fancy man?" She inquired, genuinely curious. "I much prefer a man in chainmail.
 
Rolef raised his eyebrows and nodded, "I came to see your Fadir but he was busy with that pair of bastards he sired off the mad woman."

Setting his weapons down, he simply shrugged out of his tunic, tossing it aside, slipping his rings back on the bare skin of his thick biceps. "You fight like one, if I lead the raids, I would have you along as my second," he said. The black tattoos on his arms stood out in the sun and he glanced her way, fingering the ties of his trousers, "I can fight like one of Odinsmen if you prefer."

He gave her a look, "Clothes don't matter, weapons don't matter. I once beat a man to death with an iron pot."

Moving closer to her, he took his weapons back up, "I was ten and a man tried to break into our house while my Fadir was off on a raid and this fool thought my mother was unprotected. Are you blooded Arnlief?"

He waited, to see if she would strike first, his shield held defensively, the axe loose in his hand. He had a sword but preferred the axe, often the two handed axe since he was tall and it gave him an even bigger advantage in reach but in spars shields and hand weapons were ideal. "And I don't mean your woman's blood."
 
Arnlief ran appreciative eyes over Rolef's bare torso, ignoring his remark about her damned half brothers. She didn't want to think about them right now unless it involved maiming them in some fashion. She smirked at his quips and got herself into an attacking stance. "Of course I am, but that is a story for another day." With that she charged forward and their match began.

They were fairly evenly matched as they sparred and did not stop until they both grew fairly wary. "Enough, time to break." Arnlief said, taking a step back out of the invisible area marked for practice use.

"That was one of the best sparring matches I've had." She panted, shooting him a grin as she took off her heavy practice shield and leaning it against a wooden bench.
 
Arnleif was even better than he had though and he truly had to be on his toes, for what she lacked in raw strength she made up for in agility. When he would step into his thrust, she was spinning away and he had to react fast to avoid her axe in his shoulder or back. Once they were both winded, she called a hault and he sucked in air, putting his axe back in his belt. He walked back with her, grabbing his tunic to hand to her to wipe her sweat.

"I'd have to say the same," Rolef agreed, taking the shirt from her to rub his face. He clicked his tongue, "Tch, it's rare I've fought a man with such skill. If you had been born a boy there would be no doubt who would be our next Jarl."

He shouted to a passing slave, a pretty pouty faced blonde, "Bring us water, be quick."

Turning back to Arnlief, he rolled his broad shoulders, "I have to admit, I am glad you were born a woman. Less competition for me."

Rolef winked at her and then glanced at the Hall, thinking about the night he swore his fealty to Jarl Alarr. He had been twelve but big for his age and he had got his first ring, making his father proud. His old man had long since gone to Valhalla, in battle at the Jarl's side in a shield wall. His family and Alarr's had history, he was no stranger to the village. Rolef had land and roots here and he had earned everything by paying the iron price. The idea of being Jarl had been in his head since he had lead his first raid. It had been successful and he had returned to cheering crowds with gold and slaves. Then the next season, Sven had come along as his second, at the insistence of the Jarl. Rolef was a few years older than the bastard and when Sven proved himself more than capable, Rolef was pushed aside. It left a bitterness in his mouth he never could rinse, his respect for Alarr shaken.
 
Arnleif noted his expression after rubbing her face free of sweat. She considered his words and arched an eyebrow at his wink then meaningful glance at the hall. "Oh," She snorted. "You do have some mighty competition." She said, sitting down on the bench and waiting for that slutty blonde slave to return with their waters.

"Sven is undoubtedly my Fadir's favorite to take his place." She spotted the blonde coming toward them and snapped her fingers to make the girl hurry up. She yanked the water from her hands and tossed her head back to drink. "Not only because he is a skilled warrior and decent leader, but also because he has that ergi twin of his." Arnleif sneered in disgust. "They are deathly loyal to each other, so if Sven rises to power then that means the village has the unwavering support of that blasted Seidrmadr."
 
Taking a drink of water, he hardly looked at the slave. His focus was entirely on Arnlief and despite the girl being only a thrall he knew better than to look at her shapely body. Arnlief's mother was rumored to not abide her husband fucking his slaves so he assumed her daughter might be the same. His dark eyes watched the tall woman's reaction and he could see the hatred twist her sculpted features. "You say it as if you are displeased with your bastard half brother being so favored. He is a great warrior and the men respect him. Ah...but there is Vigi to consider...your Fadir has no love for him. I've been around them, Sven turns to a fretting old woman when it comes to his brother."

Glancing sidelong at Arnlief he shrugged, "Still your Fadir is hale and healthy, it's not so much a worry now. Do you not like the idea of Sven being Jarl?"
 
Arnleif paused as she thought over the question. "I know he is a good choice to be the next Jarl." She answered after a small length of silence. "However, it doesn't mean I have to like him or his whore mother and brother." She added with a scowl. "That woman and her bastard twins caused my mother a lot of grief. Everyone is ready to just sweep it to the side as though it doesn't matter because Sven turned out to be a good potential predecessor." She shook her head. "Including my mother! It just feels wholly unfair that they worry about the hurt feelings of some weak little man but ignore the misery of the Jarl's wife."

She finished with a heavy breath and rubbed her hand over her mouth. "I apologize, I went on a rant. It's just...very frustrating to me."
 
Rolef tongued the inside of his cheek, narrowing his eyes as she spoke. "I do not care for your half brothers, though Sven is a good warrior and he can lead but he favors his brother too much, to the point of endangering others. Vigi brought that Christian slave who killed two men and crippled a third. Not to mention fighting aboard the boat. I would have thrown him overboard for such being such a threat. But Sven let Vigi keep his pet...and now this seidrmadr seeks to replace his mother. That witch is a danger and so his her son. Sven makes poor decisions when it involves his brother...that is a weakness. You have no need to apologize. Your mother has been injured, made to feel shame because she bore no sons. She should not, not with a daughter like you. Proud, powerful and beautiful...you should have everything."

Arnlief was a tough young woman but she was a woman and Rolef reached up to brush an unruly strand of brown hair from her face, his calloused thumb grazing down her freckled cheek. Leaning toward her, he brushed his bare arm against hers, his face close. Speaking in a low, deep voice, he asked, "My question is very simple, do you wish to be the half sister to a Jarl or a wife of one?"
 
Arnleif's eyes flashed and she smirked up at Rolef. "The wife of one." She answered, able to see the determination and ambition in his eyes. She reached up to touch his face, then moved her hand down to lightly grip his throat. "Don't think you can use me for your quest for power, Rolef. I am no one's pawn." She warned him, the nail of her thumb grazing against the large vein in his neck as she glared into his eyes. "Treat me as one and I will not go so easy on you in our next fight." She grinned and released his throat before standing up.

"You are a charming man though." She complimented him while picking up her shield.
 
Rolef smiled a little, his eyes hooded as she stroked her slim, strong hand down his neck. He liked feisty women, those with fire in their eyes and loins. He reckoned she was not a virgin but he did not matter to him, let the followers of the White Christ worry about their women's virtue. Arnlief was certainly no one's pawn and he cocked his head slightly, "I wouldn't dream of it, I'm looking for a partner to rule beside me."

With a flash of a grin, he picked up his shield and followed her.
 
Bright blue eyes watched the pair leave together from in the shadow of the Great Hall. She had been ignored as soon as she delivered their water and heard the most interesting bit of news. Smiling to herself, she moved away from her hiding place and sauntered off, thinking of just how this information could be used in her favor. Who would benefit the most from this information? And did that person have the power to free her from this blasted, rotten life as a petty servant to these savages?

And could she use it to free another person? A certain priest with broad shoulders and a wealthy lord father...
 
Cerdic smiled a little, “Well it is what you pay me for, right?”

With a snorted laugh, he shrugged, “I’ve trained to be a warrior since I could pick up a wooden practice sword. Even as a monk, I would practice when I could. Keeping you safe keeps me safe, so it’s wise for me to move quickly.”

The Saxon leaned his shoulder against the tree, “The Jarl is a prideful man, foolishly so but he takes stock in what Sven tells him. And if your brother is clever, he’ll make the Jarl think it was his own idea to allow you to stay and raise you to the seat of power.”

He fell silent, watching from their out of the way spot as the town continued to do their business, unmindful of the dramas and intrigues that unfolded around them. There were times Cerdic had wished he had been one of the small folk and not have to be concerned about much except for putting bread on the table for a family. It was not in his stars and he had to admit, he would have been bored with such tedium, as he was in the monastery. At least so far, life with Vigi had been anything but dull.
 
"You are not paid." Vigi reminded him with mild amusement. "But yes it is in your best interest to keep me safe." He nodded, shifting so he was sitting down at the base of the tree. Vigi shut his eyes and took in a deep breath of the fresh forest scent.

Silence fell between them save for the gentle rustle of the leaves in the wind. Even some of the sounds of the village drifted to them. It was low, merely background noise but in a way it was soothing. Vigi continued to sit still, merely breathing and allowing his mind to grow blank. With each exhale he felt himself growing more and more at peace.

He was almost about to fall asleep when a sound drifted to his ears and made him stir. Pale green eyes fluttered open and a curious frown tugged at his lips. "Do you hear that?" He asked Cerdic, cupping one hand around his ear and tilting his head to the side to hear better.

It was extremely faint and he may be wrong but it sounded like the shrill song of a flute. Coming off from deep in the wilderness. It was confusing for a moment before he realized he heard it before and he knew the source. "Oh no." He said, quickly standing to his feet and looking to Cerdic with open concern. "That's my mother." He looked in the direction the song drifted from. "She should not be so far from the village. She could hurt herself or be attacked by an animal or robbers." Panic and worry started to curl the hair on the back of Vigi's neck.

"Come on, we have to go get her." He said, not even looking back at Cerdic as he took off at a quick walk into the brush.
 
Cerdic tugged the leather collar around his neck with an exaggerated gesture, indeed that was the joke. He remained silent and watchful as Vigi rested, seeming to fall asleep. The bird song was strange to his ears, there were different creatures that roamed the woods of this north land. The more he listened, the more he realized it was not a bird but a flute. The hairs rose on his arms as he felt a chill, the sound was haunting and mysterious, a tendril of music from the depths of the nearby forest.

"I do hear it, Master," he replied, crossing himself out of habit.

He was surprised and somewhat relieved it was something as ordinary as a woman and not one of those fantastical creatures Vigi claimed lived in this place like the elves or land wights. Not that he believed the heathen nonsense, but still he preferred this explanation. "Who watches your mother then?"

Cerdic followed him, his shield on his back and the axe on his belt. The trees soon closed in on the path, the light taking a pale green luminance that reminded the Saxon of Vigi's eyes. Lindens and oak shaded their path as they walked, ferns swatting at their ankles. The sound of the flute grew louder until they came across an ash grove, a circle of young trees with a grassy glade among them. There Vigi's mother was, the thin elderly woman with nearly white hair blew into the bone pipe, sending the fluttering notes into the air.
 
"Madir." Vigi sighed in relief seeing his mother was well. She turned to them with a serene smile before she went back to playing her flute. Shaking his head Vigi approached his mother, looking around the grove to make sure everything really was well and safe. "Madir, what are you doing this far out?" He asked her with a frown.

The Seidkona continued to play the flute as though she had not heard Vigi speak.

Frown deepening Vigi looked back at Cerdic, raising his hands helplessly for a moment before letting them fall again. "Madir." He said louder to be heard over the song of the flute. Still nothing. "Madir!" He all but shouted and was again ignored. "Odin's eye." He sighed in frustration, throwing his hands into the air and turning back to Cerdic. He made his way over to the slave and sat down heavily on the grass, leaning back against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest.

"We, may be here awhile." Vigi informed him with a frown, watching his mother continue to play. It was a familiar melody, one he often heard as a child. It was soothing and he remember well curling up with Sven in their mother's lap as she played the small bone flute. The warm sun on his face, the peacefulness of the quiet forest.

His eyes started to grow heavy, he jerked up whenever they fell closed but eventually the pull of sleep became to strong. He slumped against the tree in sleep, his hair falling and curtaining his face.

The music stopped playing shortly after and Freylaug approached, a small smile on her face. She stopped in front of Vigi and crouched down to brush his hair from his face, gently touching his cheek then stood up to look at Cerdic. "Finally, we have a moment to ourselves Cerdic, son of Osric." She said to him, still smiling.
 
Cerdic stood stiff as the old woman danced in the meadow, calling her heathen gods with the unearthly sound of the piping flute. A shiver went down his neck, his scalp tingling with the sensation of deja vu. He recalled the trip to his mother's homeland, far in the mountains of the west, among the hill tribes of the Welsh, called Cymru in their tongue. His mother had told him tales of long winters that capped the mountains in white and brought wolves to door. The land was one of refuge and last stands and in the long dark of history had been the final home of the ancient people of his homeland. The small dark people that worshipped the sun and moon and hid from the invading Celts, Romans and then the Saxons. The Christians called them Druids, heathen demon worshipers that were scourged from the land but his mother whispered of the sound of drums that still beat among the depths of the forests and bogs.

Cerdic's heart sped up as she played and he shook the spell off when it felt as if his head were filled with cobwebs, the memories of the Snowdonia peaks and the constant veil of rain blocking the present. He took a sudden, ragged breath and filled his lungs with air, clearing his head. He noticed Vigi had fallen asleep and the small elder woman stood before him, touching his face.

"What do you want with me?" Cerdic asked warily. "I am just a slave...my names mean nothing anymore."
 
"Oh please, you will not remain a slave for long." She said with a soft snort. "That is not future telling either," She pointed down to Vigi. "That is knowing my son. Come, walk with me a little? I don't want to wake him." She walked over to Cerdic's side and hooked their arms together. "He'll be perfectly safe." She assured him, tugging on his arm a bit to get him to walk.

"Have you heard of the tale of Sköll and Hati?" She asked him as they walked. "They are two wolves that run through the sky, Sköll chases the sun and Hati chases the moon; wishing to devour the sun and moon. On the day of Ragnarok, when the world as we know it comes to an end, they will succeed and swallow the sun and moon. Aiding in plunging our world into darkness and endless winter." She explained, looking up at the sunlight streaming through the trees.

"I will not remain for long in this world." Freylaug said suddenly after a few moments of silence. "My body as well as my mind are weakening. It is only a matter of time, I have so few moments of clarity and sanity now. I was worried I would not be able to speak to you before I passed." She reached out and tugged gently on a leaf on a low hanging branch.

The older woman looked up at Cerdic to meet his eyes. "The wolves are coming, they are circling. If something is not done, I fear my boys will be devoured by them. Sven is strong, but Vigi...The wolf that chases him is unyielding and it is becoming harder to keep her away." She reached out to grip his arm tightly, her eyes watering. "Please, pass this message on to them. I wanted to tell them but I've wasted every moment of clarity I have because I could not bring myself to speak it to them. I am trusting you to give them this warning, I can already feel myself slipping back into that cursed abyss of madness...Also Please tell them I love them, when I forget who they are, remind them that I love them with all my heart." Tears started to leak down her cheeks. "Please, Cerdic. Will you do this? I am not ordering you as a freewoman, I am pleading to you as a mother. My son's are all I have."
 
Cerdic walked with her, casting a sidelong glance at the frail woman. Did she know about Vigi's offer of freedom or was she just assuming based on his character? He could feel her bird like bones of her arm as she hooked it against his. He listened quietly to the tail of the wolves that chased the sun and moon, he had never heard it nor the tail of the end of the world. It was not what the Bible taught, that the end of times would come with a beast and in a hail of fire and brimstone. It was not worth arguing, as the end of the world seemed distant in the peaceful meadow.

He looked down at her when she spoke of her impending death, "You are so sure your end is near? Only God knows."

Listening to her pleas, he bowed his head unsure what to say to her worries. There was real fear and a warning in her story. Who the wolf was he could hazard to guess but he said nothing. Freylaug was aware of her illness and it was all the more sad. He reached down, gently wiping away a tear with his calloused thumb, "You have my word, no harm will come to Vigi as long as I draw breath, my lady."
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom