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Waging War Against the Heavens (Alvis and xanaphia)

This time the run had not left Althaea winded or sore or barely keeping up with the group. Of course, it was significantly shorter, but that meant everyone was moving faster. Heeding her warning. Still, she managed to keep pace and was only huffing lightly as they entered the cave. Clearly her training among the Vikings was paying off. Perhaps they would make a warrior out of her, if she stayed among them.

Which was why it was likely best that she didn’t. With that thought on her mind, she joined Thorkell on the ground, refusing to shy away from affection. Maybe not kissing him, or anything of the sort, but she did cuddle against him, as she had wanted to do on the ship, and had done more than once when they shared a bed. It was still uncomfortable, in the armor, but the beating of his heart and the rhythm of his breath relaxed her. His heat and his strong arms wrapped around her were all she need to slip from consciousness for a few hours.

A storm battered the beaches and sea before her, as she stood atop a cliff. The storm she saw in her visions, without a doubt. Not a long tempest, but violent in its brevity. There was no crossing as it raged.

Behind, a legion of hopolites pursued, encircling her. Enclosing her. Taking her back to her prison, as Thorkell called it, perhaps? Taking her back home. But, instead of going with them, instead of surrendering, she took the hand of someone beside her, just out of sight and jumped from the cliff, into the raging waters below.

Althaea woke as her dream-self crashed into the waves, gasping for precious air before submerging. But there was no submerging, no pursuit, no cliff and no storm. Just the Vikings, and Thorkell, still asleep. A few were up, already, having completed a cycle or two of rest, and soon the rest would rise. Thorkell’s arm was still around her, still tight. Somewhat possessive, in a way she found she liked.

Despite the comfort of his embrace, the dream left her uneasy. Was this too, something that would come to pass? But why? Why would she flee her home? Why would she flee the safety of Athens? And who was with her, holding her hand as they plunged together into the sea?

The questions and their answers would have to wait, as she noticed Thorkell stirring from his slumber.
 
She wasn't a warrior, not yet, but she was coming along far better than she might have. Thorkell had to admit that she had impressed him with how much better she'd done this time than the last. With the short time they were spending here, no one stoked a fire, prepared a meal. There simply wasn't enough time before they left on their task. But all of the raiders knew well enough to snatch rest where they could. When they fell on the Greeks, they were going to have to fall on them like a thunderbolt from Thor's own hammer.

But he set such thoughts aside as Althaea dropped into place beside him. He didn't object to her drawing close, far from it. He felt his face shift into a contented smile, drawing his arms around her, keeping her close as he let himself relax. He caught a glance from a few of the other warriors in the band, some of them grinning at him, a few looking away, a touch of envy written on their features. Thorkell drank it all in, and let it run over him. He was happy with what he and Althaea had discovered in one another, adn he had no need to explain himself to anyone else. He knew no shame, and would brook no question of it. Rest was fast in coming, and let himself drift, a flutter of apprehension coming to him. He'd had strange dreams many times when close to Althaea.

The lash on his back bit into skin, a harsh blow, but his pride didn't let him fall. He barked out a laugh, thorwing a comment at his abuser, adn the next blow came fast and furious, but much less skilled. There was an art to hurting someone with a whip, Thorkell had seen several that possessed it, the kind of person that could flay the flesh from bone in a single swipe, and his abuser was not unskilled. If he was to make it through this without suffering permanent damage, then he would have to keep his opposition off balance. Another blow landed, adn his laughter echoed off of the stone walls. His hands were in iron chains, bolted to the walls, and he tensed his body, pulling on them in a familiar motion, like he'd done it a dozen times before, and nothing happened. There wer other figures in the room, the shadows cast from torches obscuring them. He stared at one, as though he knew it, and his lips peeled in a grin. The look was a challenged, daring them to act. But in what way, he didn't know.

Thorkell opened his eyes. Althaea was already awake, he could feel the difference in her breathing. He loosened his grip, but didn't release it. He didn't speak, taking the moment to simply enjoy being close to her. Yrsa was moving past quickly, tapping sleepers to awaken them. It was time. He let go of Althaea, heaving himself to his feet, and offering her his hand to rise. When he had her on his feet, he kept his grip on her hand. With a smile, he lifted it to his lips, placing a small kiss on her knuckles before letting her go.
"Come. Time to go to work." He said the first to Althaea, the rest in a louder voice tot he crew. Weapons were lifted, and shields readied. "Here we go." Thorkell led them out of the cave, and out into the night air.
 
Althaea’s cheeks pinkened as Thorkell kissed her hand, and she had to turn away some. It made her feel giddy, these little gestures. Giddy and…guilty. What was it about the kiss that made her feel guilty? Was she having second thoughts about going home? About leaving Thorkell? She didn’t want to leave him, just the threats of violence that came with living among Vikings. Besides, it wasn’t her choice anymore. The Gods had decreed it, there was no changing it now. So, she flashed him a smile and a nod, preparing herself for the raid.

She didn’t draw her weapon, but she did wield her shield. She had gotten pretty good at defense. Her gifts allowed her to anticipate the attack, and she had been learning how best to block, and deflect. She hoped it would be enough to keep her safe, until someone else could step in to help her, so she wouldn’t be forced to kill her country men. But, as Thorkell said when she first began training, she might not have a choice.

The night was cool. Perhaps not to their north sensibilities, but to her, in her armor-clad form, with its exposed skin. Not uncomfortable, for she knew once she was moving with the raid she’d warm up, and perhaps even sweat. Thorkell lead the band, while she stayed towards the back, staying out of the melee. Watching for the opportunity to return home. Or be returned, as the case may be.

This raid started off the same as the others. The nearby farms, the ones that had been spared last time, were attacked. Common folk killed, most before they even had a chance to fear for death. Fire razed crops and danced in the pale moonlight, creating monsters out of the shadows of the Vikings. For a few hours they move unimpeded, until she sensed the troop approaching from the east. As large as the knot of Vikings terrorizing the land.

This time, Althaea said nothing.
 
The Norse swept through the area like a scythe. Experienced raiders all, they knew what had to be done. Fear was a goal this time, so more of the farm folk were allowed to flee rather than a wholesale slaughter. A small band of the farmeres had assembled ahead of the raiding force, and Yrsa stepped forward, casting a spear high over teh formation to the puzzlement of the Greeks. The Norse paused, several of them bowing their heads in reverence of the moment.
"I dedicate these deaths to the All Father." Yrsa announced with a solemn tone that madse no mistake about the gravity she felt about the moment. Thorkell raised his axe, and then aimed it at the packed mass.

The Norse moved ina coordinated wave, adn bore over the Greeks in a single motion. Men died in an instant, a small orgy of bloodletting taht laid them low. Thorkell wiped the blood from his face, and looked around at his people. They were in good spirits, after a short fight dedicated to their chief God. Ingavain and Thunir, the two most commonly worshipped Gods of his pople were many things, and went by many names, but they were soul reapers first and foremost. Thorkell moved the group on, keeping close to Althaea. There was a part of him that had the prickling of a sense of dread. Something was wrong. He knew it, blood and bone deep. What that thing was, he didn't know. He had to keep his trust in Althaea though, there was nothing else for it.

They were on their way to the next site when Yrsa came back to them at a dead run, her spear in the air, and her voice raised in a fervent screech of warning. Thorkell pulled the group to a halt. Sure enough, the Greeks were coming, and the could feel the ground shake beneath the treat of their feet. As the armoured foes came into easy visual range, THorkell did the math. They were outnumbered significantly, and had his warband been made up more prominently of heavy infantry, he'd have been confidant in their ability to take them in a direct fight. But so many Shield Maidens meant that simple direct conflict was not going to be the way to victory. If there was more time, they could harry the Greeks, wear them down, and break up the formation of them. But that would only leave them engaged long enough for reinforcements.

Thorkell raised his hand to signal a withdrawal, when he saw something int he formation. They shifted, moving from a deeply packed mass to a wide one, only four men deep. He grinned. This was something he could work with. The heavier troops amongst the Norse formed up around him, while the lighter troops spread out. A Shield Maiden moved to Althaea's side, silent protection while Thorkell led the assault on the Greeks.

The Norse trotted forward, most of them throwing spears at the Greeks. Iron weapons smashed into bronze shields, many of them embedding into the heavy faces. The Norse gave a thunderous bellow, charging home in the flying wedge that their people ahd done so well with in their history.

This time was no different.

The Greeks shattered under the impact of the wedge, breaking the packed formation, and turning it all into a bloody scrum, the Shield Maidens coming in on the flanks to rip into the vulnerable warriors. The Greeks did all they could to pull back into a workable formation, but the Norse gave them no room to move. Thorkell grinned as they fought, not finding the Greeks wanting for courage, despite any dissadvantages that might be there. It was glorious.

The Shield Maiden near Althaea kept her eyes moving, tracking possible sources of danger. SHe hunkered down as arrows arced towards her, three of them thudding into her shield. She turned to try adn warn Althaea, but an arrow hammered home, going through her neck. The maiden died on the spot. Greek rangers approached Althaea, bows drawn tight, aiming at her.
"Surrender now, and we spare your life." One of them snarled at her, not picking out her features as being different fromt he Norse in the night.
 
Watching the Vikings in action really was something else. They were good at what they did. As terrifying and inevitable as a force of nature. Seemingly unstoppable, that for a moment, Althaea feared her visions had been stripped from her, or perverted somehow. Because she had seen herself back in Athens, yet the raid group seemed unstoppable, as Thorkell led it.

But she brought up her shield nearly unconsciously, protecting herself from a hail. Her protector was not so lucky, and even as she tried to heal the woman’s wounds, she knew there was no point. The Greeks surrounding her were not a shock now, but a disappointment.

“I’m come quietly,” she announced in Greek, holding her hands up in defense. Still, the soldiers didn’t recognize her, not as the Oracle of Athens, cuffing her upper arms to take her away from the rest of the group. A few others were given the same ultimatum, but they fought to the last breath, refusing to be taken captive.

Perhaps that was what she should have done, the first time around. She wouldn’t have gotten to know Thorkell then. She wouldn’t have a sinking feeling in her gut as she was led away. Her heart wouldn’t be gripped as she realized she’d never see him again. She had to be strong. This was what she wanted, right?

Right?

A score of rangers surrounded her, stripping her of sword and shield. Reclaiming the shield that had belonged to the temple. She whispered a prayer to Athena for Thorkell, appropriate or not, she didn’t care. So long as he lived, it didn’t matter what happened her.
 
THe head of the last Greek went sailing through the air, Thorkell giving a wordless, bloody roar to the skies. GLory was what his people sought, and they had found it in plenty this raid. There were wounded, and the healthy moved through the area, making sure those that could move were ready. Yrsa skid to a halt near Thorkell, panting, Canute behind her.
"Thorkell...they...they came. Rangers. Too many. They took her." Yrsa gasped, out of breath. Thorkell froze as the implication of what she said sank in. He swore, a vicious curse that made Canute blink.
"Your orders?" Canute asked. Thorkell ran the situation through his mind. There wasn't a good answer here. There was only one thing he could really do.
"Canute, lead the band. Get them back to the ship. Get them home, adn go now." Thorkell ordered firmly, passing his axe to his shield hand, adn lifting a throwing spear from the ground, and then another.
"Where are you going to be?"
"She's a seer, and she knows where we are based. We can't leave her in enemy hands." Thorkell said grimly. "And she's my responsibility." Canute nodded.
"I'll hold the ship as long as I can. But if that storm comes up, I have to take it home."
"I know. I'll try and make it, but I can't be sure. If you have to go, I'll make my own way back." Canbute nodded, and set off, calling out orders. Thorkell looked to Yrsa, and she point in the direction that the rangers had gone. Thorkell took off at a run.

The rangers eyed Althaea uneasily, the only enemy that had surrendered. That she was a woman meant little to them, they had seen the ferocity of hte Norse women, the acumen they had for battle, and had suffered becasue of it. They seemed to fear neither death nor pain, and made sure their enemies paid dearly for every kill they managed. But this one spoke perfect Greek, and there was a niggling feeling of something being wrong. One of the rangers turned to her, and opened his mouth to speak. There was a faint whistling sound and the man jerked as a spear head errupted from his mouth, driven through the back of his skull. As he fell another spear pierced the body of another man who toppled screaming.

Thorkell came leaping over a small hill, his axe in hand, his voicer raised in a roar as he came crashing into the rangers. His axe swept out in a wide arc, the blade ripping through unarmoured foes like a scythe through wheat. His shield swept up, catchiung a hastily fired arrow before swinging in to connect with the neck of a man, crushing his windpipe. He turned to Althaea, his face lit with concern for her and a simmering battle lust.
"Go!" He roared. "Run!" He swept back in like a storm, the rangers drawing out short blades to try and fight him, but they were outmatched by a huge degree. As Thorkell slew the last, he turned to see that he had been outmaneuvered after all. There was a ring of Athenian hoplites around them, spears pointed inwards, shields locked together.

"Surrender barbarian! There is no way out!" A voice shouted in Greek. Thorkell looked around himself, picking his place. They were only one layer deep. He could force an opening. He hefted his shield, and started to move. "Halt! Do not move!" The voice shouted. Thorkell grinned, and lunged forward , his shield leading, scraping away a spear, adn hammering into the Greeks to force an opening.

Yrsa stood on a hill, seeing the battle Thorkell fought, lit only but he torches of hte Greeks. It as one man against many, just like the sagas of old. She knew she should be running with the others, but she couldn't pry her eyes away. Someone had to witness this, someone had to bear the tale back to Canute to be woven into song. This moment, this fight, it could not go unremarked, could not be unremembered. If Thorkell was to fall, then he would at least be sang of in the next feast, and be welcomed in the next world. Eyes straight, voice silent, she watched...

Blood was int he air, and not all of it was the Greeks. Thorkell was trying to force an opening for Althaea, but the Greeks were canny and dogged, keeping them surrounded. He grunted as a spear jabbed into the back of his leg, before withdrawing. He turned, his axe breaking the shield of his attacker, along with the arm behind it. Another blow hit his side, then three more on his legs. He stumbled, blood running freely from him before he threw himself into the attack one more time, breaking through the defenses of two men, laying them low before he felt a hard blow to his back, sending him sprawling onto the ground. He'd been hit by a shield charge. Spears plunged into the ground around him, pinning him down before a heavy blow slammed into his skull. Blackness overcame him.
 
As gifted as Althaea was in the sight, she knew it could not divine the secrets within a man’s heart. She knew what was coming, not often why. Sometimes the answer was clear. Like in her case, being led away by the Greek soldiers, because as far as they knew, she was a Viking shield maiden. What she couldn’t divine was Thorkell’s heart, as he charged in to the center. Throwing himself headfirst battle, cutting down her captors with that familiar ferocity.

Althaea used what she could, blocking and evading, but every seeing things before they came to be was not helping. After all, the attacks came from everywhere, and even she wasn’t so fast as to dodge from every direction at once. Thorkell may have lacked that gift, but had more experience in actual combat, turning away blows and taking hits, turning his pain into rage into brutality. Still, as impressive as he was in the moment, Thorkell was but a human, and he fell under the weight of dozens of strikes. He wasn’t moving anymore, just breathing. There was a moment of relief among the remaining Greek soldiers, catching their breath at finally putting him down. Until a spear raised up over his prone body.

“Stop!” She screamed, putting herself over him, protecting his body with her own.

“This brute doesn’t get to live after what he did. What he’s done,” The leader spat, “Move her. Or kill her if she will not.”

“And how will Athena punish you for slaying her Oracle?” Althaea demanded, speaking with the voice of authority. Soldiers who had pulled and pried at her arms suddenly stopped, and take a step back. Glancing among themselves, and their commander. He stare hard eyes at Althaea, scrutinizing her. Still, he was silent, so she continued, “This man yet lives. It is Her will.”

“What does Athena care for a foreign heathen?” He questioned, sensing her slight uncertainity. But she was stronger that they knew, and stronger still than she was when she was taken by Thorkell.
“You dare question her wisdom?” she hissed, her voice low. The tone caught the captain off guard, leading him to vigorously shake his head.

“Bind this…man,” he declared, cuffing Althaea’s arm and leading her away, “We take him and the Oracle back to Athens. He will face justice for his deeds, and she will be returned to her rightful place within the temple.” Without another word, they were lead along.
 
Thorkell had been knocked out more times than he could recall. One didn't become a warrior of hte Norse without taking some hard knocks in your life. The hit had been harder than expected, Thorkell had to wonder if had been a shield that had hit him to deliver that much force. He and others in the band had experimented with teh Greek shields, and found them to be effective, but too heavy for most warriors to use comfortably. He felt pressure on his wrists, knew the feeling. He'd been bound, ropes to his wrists, making sure he didn't make a get away. He knew that could only mean one thing.

He was a prisoner now.

There was a certain amount of irony in the situation, he knew that. He was being dragged along, and he stayed limp in their hands, not wanting to tip them off that he was aware. Thorkell flicked his gaze to those in the band that they were in the midst of. There were a daozen rangers, an nearly that many hoplites now. And Althaea. And what was more she wasn't under guard. She was being led by the group, but not dragged. She was going with them. Freely. There was a maelstrom of emotion warring in Thorkell. He hadn't been saving her, he'd interfered with her escape plan. He bit back on the tidal force of his anger, keeping himself calm for now. He'd need that anger when his opportunity came.

Yrsa bowed her head, seeing Thorkell be taken down, saw from a distance that Althaea was the one who spared his life, and saw the war leader be taken away. Yrsa was a potent warrior in her own right, but she knew that she'd never be able to help Thorkell alone. She began to run for the ship. The others had to be told.

The great walls of the city of Athens loomed. A torch was waved to allow the guards on the gate to know that they were coming, and the doors swung in. Thorkell took careful stock of where they were leading him. They were going back to the temple. Returning Althaea no doubt. As they neared the structure, Thorkell saw that the scorch marks fromt he oil fire he and his men had started was still not completely cleaned from the stone. He allowed himself a grin as they stopped before the temple.

"What is the meaning of this? WHy have you come here bringing this barbarian adn his whore to our temple?" Came the arrogant, sneering voice of one of hte priests that manned the temple. Rare as it was to see a male priest attending to the temple of Athena, there had been a shortage of priestesses after the last raid. Thorkell didn'y bother hiding his smile as he knew that Althaea was likely going to have her opportunity to show what she was made of, and on her home ground.
 
After the vision that had shown her that she would return to the temple, Althaea believed her gift unmarred by her night spent with Thorkell. But how could she miss something so big? How could she miss the presence of her Viking lover in her return to her home? Was this the future Athena had shown her, or was this something else entirely? Had Thorkell changed things, when he flew to her rescue? There was no one to ask, right now, no way to know. All she could do was continue to trust her visions and her faith, trust in Athena’s wisdom.

“Whore?” She whispered the word, pulling her arm away from the captain of the band. “Do you not recognize me, Knaios? Althaea, who speaks with our Goddess’ own voice. I know you could not have foreseen my return, while the temple lacked its oracle. Now that I am returned, I assure you that you will not be caught off guard like this again.”

“Althaea…” he whispered, the weight of his mistake dawning on him. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Are you still…an oracle? We could not help but assume what the heathens would do to you, and how that might affect your gifts.”

“I assure you that my sight is intact, even after my captivity. Such assumptions about the Vikings is what leads us to lose so much to them. You cannot hope to defeat an enemy you do not understand,” she lectured.

“We can’t defeat them if we show them mercy, either,” Knaios countered, still glowering at Thorkell, “So why is this one still alive?”

“It is Athena’s will,” she declared, feeling more confident in the lie this time. Knaios studied her face for a hint of weakness, but she was impassive.

“Then they must be something yet we can get from him. Chain him up in a cell,” He ordered the rangers, leading Althaea back into the temple. “Let us get you in some proper attire.”
 
There it was, that fire that Thorkell had seen in Althaea, that spirit that had drawn him to her. And she handled herself better than he could have hoped, short of actually striking hte man in question. But she'd come from a softer people, ones mroe focused on their mind than their warcraft. Thorkell tested his bonds, finding them still secured. He would have very few opportunities to act, and he had to time it right.

"The city has suffered greatly since you've been gone." Knaios said with a faint growl as he saw Thorkell being carried away. "Food is becoming scarce, and there is talk outright starvation in the poorer quarters. We've sent for more from our trade partners, but that is taking too long. And it has caused them to demand more in payment. And of course, with our city in such a state, Thebes has begun to call for quiet aid to remove us from our position of prominence. If we are3 to survive this coming trial, we shall need the aid of the Goddess. And your Sight."

He led her to what had been her old chambers. The door had been made right once more, and the room within was clean and scrubbed, exactly as it always had been before her capture. He gave a nod to her, his gaze lingering on her a moment in her leathers, before he withdrew from the area. It was onyl a few more moments before attendants came to Althaea to help her dress properly.

Thorkell was surprised to find the cells below the temple in good condition. There was a large cell, the heavy iron bonds leading from the wide walls to let them restrain someone in the center of the room. Room enough around the captive then to pace, to plan...to do whatever was needed.
"Is he safe to untie?" A ranger asked, clearly not aware that Thorkell could speak Greek.
"He's not struggled. I think he may still be out." Another answered, drawing a short knife to cut Thorkell's bonds. The iron rasped through the ropes, but Thorkell remained limp, knowing that they would have expected him to act as soon as he was loose if he was going to. He let them drag him to the center, adn start to feed one of his arms into an iron fetter when he acted.

There was a welling scream that carried up to the temple proper, the sound of someone in unbelievable pain. There was a shout, and the hoplites that had not yet departed from the temple moved to the stairs to assist in containing the problem.

What they found below shook them to the core.

Thorkell stood int he cell, a short knife in his hand, a long slash across his cheek from one of the rangers trying to fend him off. All around him was a mess of blood and meat that had been men once. Armed with only his hands, he had not had time to be subtle, and being outnumbered four to one ahd forced hi to be crude. Broken limbs were easily visible, while there was a torn off jaw on the floor, as well as one man that seemed to have had his entrails ripped free. With a howl he charged at the hoplites.

The short knife lodged int he eye of his first target, his weight bearing hte other man over, before the other men laid in. They hammered him witht he pommels of their swords, the edge of their shields striking when they could. It took only a few moments to subdue THorkell, the trained men able to surround him and bring him down once more. They shackled him beofre they fled his bloody visage. THorkell, still barely awake, only gave a mocking laugh as they left him alone below.

"Not human...he is not human!" One of hte hoplites babbled as they came back into the temple proper.
 
Althaea didn’t realize how much she’d miss wearing armor until a couple attendants were peeling her out of it. It had been uncomfortable at first, tight and form fitting, showing off more skin than she would have thought herself comfortable with. Oh, what she had grown comfortable with, in her time with the Vikings.

Of course, there was also a discomfort with being nude in front of the attendants. Which was bizarre, because she had been nude before them before. But now she felt as if her body contained secrets, truths she needed to keep hidden. As if the things she had done with Thorkell could were written on her flesh, and the loss of virginity was imprinted on her skin.

Oh, she could lie about it. Claim she was raped by the Vikings, and none would disbelieve her. It would be yet another crime Thorkell could be charged with, yet another reason for the Athenians to kill him. But such a lie felt like an insult, dirtying the memory of a night spent in his arms. Instead it was a secret she kept, avoiding eye contact with her attendants lest she spill it, then and there.

She was hardly dressed when the cries came from below. Perhaps it was a symbol of her time with the Vikings, that she rushed towards the screams instead of away. As she did she saw the hoplites, the ones who had brought Thorkell, fleeing the from cells, babbling about the inhuman prisoner. And beyond that, terribly injured soldiers, sporting broken bones and gaping wounds. Thorkell had done this, had fought until he literally couldn’t stand anymore, trying to deal one last injury to Athens. She could hear his weak laughter, echoing through the dungeon to mock the Greeks.

“Athena wills him to live?” Knaios asked her, glaring at her. His question boring into her, challenging her conviction. Hearing the unspoken implication in his words. Athena wills it, or you do?

“Bring the injured before me,” she called, ignoring Knaios’ question for now. She’d have much to answer for, in time, but she wouldn’t deal with it now. There were more pressing matters, pressing her hand against the broken arm of one hoplite, feeling her goddess’ touch. The bone mended and the wounds closed, until he was back at full strength. Then there was a familiar look of awe and fear on the faces around her.

“What did you do?” one asked, as if he hadn’t seen it happen with his own eyes.

“I am a servant of Athena, and I do her bidding. And her bidding is that her worships shall be healthy,” she declared, moving onto the next soldier, undoing the damage her decree to protect Thorkell had done to the hoplites. She was drained by the time she reached the last man, learning the limitations of her gifts. She could not regrow the parts Thorkell had ripped off, but she could speed the healing, so there was no more wound, and no chance at infection.

“What use does Athena have of this man, that could outweigh the death and destruction he has caused?” Knaios asked again, as she recovered her strength against a wall.

“It is not our place to question her. She will reveal her wisdom in time,” She assured her fellow priest, empty platitudes she hopes would cover her.

“Well, she should show it with haste then. We can hold a trial for him, tomorrow, proving that we are not the same as the barbarians that raid our shores and kill our people. A trial that will prove his guilt, and sentence him to a public death. None are beyond our laws, heathen or otherwise,” Knaios moved to meet her gaze, “You should be there, representing our Goddess before the people. They need to see you, and see that Athena’s glory has returned to Athens.”

“Of course. Where else would I go?”
 
"I may need you to repeat that. Once more." The normally calm voice of the Jarl had an edge to it, a tinge of incredulity that made the others in the room feel nervous. He was not well famed for his sense of humour.
"The Seer was taken during a fight. Thorkell went to find her. He...fell. The Greeks were too many." Canue explained.
"And you know this for certain?"
"Yrsa remained behind, bore witness to his stand." The jarl panned around the room, looking for Yrsa.
"And where is our witness?"
"She...remains on the mainland. Watching the city. She wished to have information for any that might attempt to rescue our taken." There was a distinct pause.

"And what if I should choose not to act? Thorkell has endangered all of us by letting himself be taken! We've not the supplies to survive on this island under siege for long. Our very lives are in danger should we remain!" The Jarl argued.
"And should we leave, where would we go? No other place provides us with the chance to defend our lives as capably. And what is more, Thorkell went to the Seer as she is a sworn member of the band. He did his duty." Canute answered, knowing that he was getting into dangerous waters. He felt he owed the Seer nothing, but he had called Thorkell friend for some time. He owed the man all he could muster as a defense.
"Thorkell followed other urges than his duty. It is no secret what came between himself and the Seer." Canute knew he had the Jarl now.
"Such as it may be, was such not your intent? After all, why leave her in his care, if not in the hope to bind her to us in more ways than one?" The Jarl fell silent. To deny it made him look like a fool, leaving him nowhere to go. But to accept it conceded to Canute. "Or is this anger coming from another place my Jarl? Is this now a regret at not having taken the Seer as your own?" The entire hall fell silent at Canute's words. It was a subtle challenge to the Jarl, but one that had to be answered. "Thorkell is a Thegn of the band, loyal and true. Do we not owe him an attempt at rescue?"

"So be it. Take a small craft, not the warship. Make contact with Yrsa. Find what information can be gleaned. Come back to me with a plan that does not doom us all to death or capture. And then we will see about a rescue." The Jarl conceded. Canute nodded, and took his leave. He rallied a few men and Shield Maidens to his side, and head for the docks. They would need to be quick and quiet. He had the right people for such, and they had a good man to rescue.

Faint words made it to Thorkell from above, the Greek barely managing to roess through his mind. He was wounded now, sorely so, the damage largely from the shield edges fro the hoplites. Whatever faults he might lay at the feet of the Greeks, they knew their shields, and built them well enough to be used as a weapon. He was on his knees, and tested the range of motion he had. They had adjusted his chains, making it much more difficult to move at all. Still, that was not a large factor to him. Thorkell wondered if he would even make it until morning from the loss of blood. He spat blood from his mouth, shifting his head, the long braid of his hair falling away from his face. He fixed his gaze on the entrance to his prison. Who would they send for him next?

The temple was abuzz with the talk of the 'giant' in the lower section. There had been talk that supplies were being gathered to make sure that there was enough of a frame to allow him to be executed properly. In such cases the convicted would be fastened to a great wooden frame with iron collars, letting the weight and exposure kill them. A bloodless crucifixion. The doors opeed quietly, admitting a tall man in the panoply of a hoplite, but the crest on his helmet went from side to side, denoting him an officer. His armour was chased with silver and bas relief carvings,a fortune of work in it.
"Lamachus! To what do we owe the honour of your coming?" Knaios asked. The name was well known, a general of Athens with several successful campaigns under his belt.
"The Seer has been returned, and you hold a man prisoner. That man has information that I require to stamp out this threat. Or if the Seer might now the way to their lair...?" Lamachus asked, arching his brows to Altheae.
 
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