(A/N: No, the term “Warp Spasm” is not a reference to any of the worlds of Games Workshop. It's actually from a completely different place.

A/N the second: 100 chapters. whoop whoop)

I think it was on the first night of our journey that we met Sigurd, the Wave-Serpent's berserker.

Not the night that we spent in Helfdan's village. This was that camp-site where we had stopped for the night on a tiny little island which was little more than rocks, cliffs and caves. In a straight line across the island, you could probably walk the distance in a matter of minutes. But of course, the mountainous and craggy terrain would make that all but impossible.

There were sheer rock faces on either side of us with the remaining side being the sea. The wind whistled past the entrance to the beaching point but we were also well sheltered by the bulk of the Wave-Serpent itself. In the same way that there are camps and supply dumps all around the world, where wilderness living people leave caves where fellow travellers regularly shelter. So they leave stacks of dried wood, dry hay or blankets and occasionally, some left over dried food. This seemed to be a similar kind of place. A place where travelling or patrolling ships crews could spend the night and know that they are protected from prying eyes and passing ships. Where they were sheltered from the weather and could spend a quiet evening enjoying each other's company and telling tall tales around the fire.

There had indeed been dry wood kept under an oilskin in one of the nearby caves as well as some oil and kindling and before long we had a merry fire going. We only needed a single lookout who was on the end of the Wave-Serpent and I think it was Kar at that point in the evening. He was fine, he claimed to have heard all the stories before and it would mean that he could get a full nights rest later.

According to Svein no enemy ship would be able to beach and attack us here and no-one is going to be able to land elsewhere on the little island without us hearing them, so it was all but impossible that people would be attacking us over the rocks. That any ship or boat would smash itself to pieces trying to land on the shore.

So instead we sat in a circle around the fire, over which a large pot of stew was being cooked. Better quality than the usual kind of trail stew but it was still stew and I wasn't really looking forward to it.

That was alright though because it meant that I could just listen to the men and their stories. There were many of these and they seemed to compete in making their stories more blood-curdling and terrifying than their fellows.

Helfdan accepted all of this with good grace and sat quietly, still reading his book and writing in his journal. His reactions to the stories were somewhat subdued from what we would consider to be normal. When the men cheered at the destruction of an enemy he would nod. Often at the man that received the credit for that victory. When people were telling stories about his virtues as a lord he looked slightly shy and embarrassed. When people laughed he would smirk slightly. He was part of the group but he wasn't part of the group if you see what I mean.

But it was that night that I met Sigurd. I have described him elsewhere so I won't go into too much detail other than to say that he is a giant bear of a man. The term “gentle giant” was invented to describe him and I liked him a great deal. I suspect that he had a little bit of a crush on Ciri while also being self-aware and clever enough to realise that nothing was ever going to happen. Ever. So he manifested this into ensuring that she was fed and happy with the amount of food. He brought her water and drink and kind of appointed himself as her champion. He would frown at people that made Anti-Nilfgaardian jokes, despite the obvious fact that Ciri found those jokes hilarious, and would leap to her defence if anyone said anything remotely critical of her. Or at least he did until Ciri told him that she could fight her own damn battles thank you so very much.

She was more long winded and courteous than that but you get my point.

After that he still took care about his behaviour around Ciri, found her food and blankets and things. Ciri told me that she thought he was “Sweet” and that she liked that he had taken her comment about being able to fight her own battles well. Apparently it's a case in the various courts around the land, that men try and exert their authority over Ciri by being “overly gallant” (her words) and trying to protect her.

It's the same kind of thing as twisting your hand when you're shaking someone's hand so that your hand is on top. Or squeezing too hard. It's the, normally very male, method of marking your territory and exerting your authority. I'm told that Ciri handles it fairly well. She has no problem with letting people think what they like but that when she gives an order, she expects it to be upheld and disobedience is met with harsh punishments. Her father used to have anyone that treated his daughter like this put to death by being torn apart by horses and Ciri's responses are less deadly but more.... vindictive is the word that I want to use.

But in this case, Sigurd took the hint, apologised and backed off. But it was still a little clear that he occasionally caught himself looking over at the Empress. Then he would realise what he was doing and look away.

As I say, Ciri said that he was “sweet” and she mostly worked hard not to break his heart or prey on his emotions.

“He's a romantic, isn't he.” Svein said about Sigurd. “Falls in love with anything in a skirt or with a pretty face. And let's be fair here, The Swallow is a nice looking lady. Not as beautiful as my wife though,” he grinned smugly. “But it's understandable really. If we do end up fighting and The Swallow defends Helfdan and the ship, then the entire crew will be devoted to her.”

“So Sigurd isn't married then?” I asked in an effort to divert the subject.

“No.” Svein shook his head for emphasis.

“Why not? He's not a bad looking guy and he seems nice enough.”

“And he is. But he's a berserker isn't he.” He said that as thought that explained everything. “Not many women will marry a berserker.”

“Why not?”

“Berserkers die young don't they. So marrying a berserker is hard on the heart. It's not all one-sided though. Sigurd likes to be the martyr. He likes the drama of turning the girl down because of his perceived failings and sending her away in case she gets hurt. Not that he knows that of course but I think he likes the drama of it. There are just some people that like being a miserable bugger.”

This made me a little sad for Sigurd. As I say, he seemed like a perfectly nice person and I wondered if the love of a good woman might help him.

But then it came to his turn to tell everyone how he came to be following Helfdan The Bastard and swearing his oaths to the Black Boar.

He stood up and walked forward into the light so that we could all see him. He was playing with his fingers and looked endearingly like a child that has just been told to sing for an audience of family members.

“I was part of a rival crew.” He told us before holding his hands up to forestall the good natured booing that this statement was greeted with. “Yes Yes, I got better.” There were some cheers to this. “But I was part of a rival crew who, knowing Helfdan's luck on the raids, we had followed him in and meant to steal his plunder.”

“You're jumping ahead in the story.” Someone yelled at him. Now that I know them all a bit better, I wonder if it was Ivar that called out the instructions but at the time I had no idea who it was that had called out.

“I know, I know, sorry.” What parts of Sigurd's face that we could see beneath the beard turned bright pink as he looked over at Ciri. I didn't ask her about it but I guessed that she had seen the look coming and was taking a deep drink from a water skin so that Sigurd wouldn't have to see her judgement on his performance.

Not that she was judging, but he might have seen something unpleasant. We all tend to become delusional when we see someone that we are attracted to.

He took a deep breath, before accepting a long drink from a passing mead horn, and then he started again.

I was born on Spikeroog. My father was a hunter and my mother would work the skins and pelts that he brought home in order for us to sell them at market. I have a few siblings but Spikeroog is a remote place at the best of times and they left home in order to pursue their fortunes elsewhere aboard raiding ships and in other venues.

I don't have any contact with my family as they are loyalists to clan Brokvar and they see my fighting for Helfdan and through him to Clan An Craite as a treachery. But Jarl Udalryk can kiss my raging purple cock as far as I'm concerned.

Yes yes, I am aware that he was sinking into madness at the time and that he might be more agreeable now but regardless of that, that's still to come in the story. And after his betrayal of me, I feel it is on him to apologise to me rather than me going to him to try and explain matters. Also, my family turned their backs on me so even if Udalryk forgave me and told me that his judgement was harsh in the throes of madness, then my family could still go fuck themselves.

The Wave-Serpent is my home, and her crew is my family now.

The Statement was met by a cheer and rightly so. For those that haven't been kept up to date on the doings of Skelligan politics. Jarl Udalryk, the head of clan Brokvar was cursed by the presence of a monster called a Hym. It's one of those monsters that you don't normally see as it technically falls under the classification of “demon”. For all intents and purposes though it is a nasty piece of work that drives a man to despair, paranoia and anxiety. This curse was lifted by the actions of the then candidate for the throne, Cerys and Witcher Geralt. If you want to know more then I refer you to Dandelion's account of the matter. But to all intents and purposes, Cerys' actions that day saved Jarl Udalryk from madness and death and very possibly saved Clan Brokvar from destruction. After Clan An Craite it is possibly Clan Brokvar that are the Queens fiercest supporters as a result of these actions.

But I was in the process of learning my father's trade when the first Warp Spasm came upon me.

(One of the interesting things about travelling is learning about other cultures. So you learn that they all have different words and terms for things that you thought you knew about. The term “Warp Spasm” is the Skelligan term for what is happening when a berserker goes into a rage. The theory goes that when a berserker is in touch with their fury then that extreme emotion punches through onto another plane of energy which allows the berserker to do the crazy things that they do. I think it's a little far fetched myself but hey... I suppose it's possible that they know something that I don't. In fact, it's possible that they know quite a few things that I don't but that's a conversation for another time.)

I remember very little of the occasion. I know that I was struggling with stalking one of the deer that we were trying to get close to. I remember that I just couldn't stay quiet enough to get close enough to shoot it properly and every time I edged forward, or stood still and held my breath. It would look up and notice me before running away. I had done everything according to my father's instructions and all things being equal I should have been able to get the thing. He wasn't helping by the fact that he was laughing at my efforts.

I remember struggling to breathe despite the fact that I was breathing in and out really quickly and then...

Then I woke up.

Well I say I woke up. It was, and is when the spasm takes me by surprise, the strangest thing in the world. If I do it deliberately then I can control re-entry into my body and I can wake up having just been dazed for a little while.

It took a long time for me to come back to my body. It started slowly with returning sensation first and the realisation of a pounding headache. It felt as though I was returning to my body from a long way away. As though I was travelling through a tunnel, inexorably like I was being pushed and the end result is only pain.

Cold light stabbed through my eyes and into my skull. I felt sluggish as though my arms were tied down with heavy weights and when I opened my eyes, it was the most heroic action that I had taken in my young life up until that point.

Father had taken me to the local priest of Freya. A woman who did little more than help with any local births and medical problems. She was consecrated of course but at the same time, she was well aware of what had happened and calmly informed my father that I had just had my first warp spasm. She was very calm about the entire thing as I recall. Really calm and collected as she gave us the news.

But this was the first time for me and it took everyone by surprise. Including my father and the rest of my family. It turns out that there is a line of berserkers in my family but it was my maternal Grandfather's brother who had been the last true berserker that we knew about. So it really did take everyone by surprise.

My parents were upset though. That curious balance of being partially upset but also being secretly pleased. Like all the clans, there are laws protecting the berserker and their families. I would go off to be trained in my new craft and my parents would be looked after by the clan on the grounds that the work that would normally be done by me was now having to be done by someone else.

The life of a berserker is still one of service after all despite the fact that things have improved since my Grandfather's time. Now we are treated more like the men that we are, rather than the animals that we occasionally become in the throes of Warp Spasm. Among berserkers, on those rare occasions where we get together to share notes, there are always old stories about berserkers being kept in a cage. Being beaten with sticks and only allowed out when it was time for the killing. About times when hunting dogs were treated with more honour than berserkers were.

Fortunately that time was past. I was a big lad then in the same way that I am a big man now and I was sent to the home of the Vildkaarls to become a member of the cult of Svalbold.

(The term “Vildkaarl” used to be the term for anyone who doesn't belong to a clan in Skellige. It literally means “Wild man”. But over time, as the clan culture has become more pervasive, travel to the mainland is easier and outside threats to the islands have become more obvious, the Skelligans can no longer afford the luxury of having wild warriors who are capable of living off the land unemployed. At first they were often drafted into battles with the enticement of pay or places in the clans. But eventually it just became more and more common that anyone who was formally cast out of one of the clans in disgrace, would either be adopted by another, (Svein is a good example of this) or would travel to the mainland. Helfdan's situation about having been a ship's captain for one clan before joining the An Craite clan is the more common model.

Lords are capricious it seems and if a man doesn't like serving one clan then he can ask to be released from his oaths of service in order to pursue things elsewhere. Or if a Lord is getting rid of a rival in his own lands then he can release his competitor pre-emptively.

But I'm getting off topic.

So the term “Vildkaarl” took on a new meaning. Instead of meaning a man who is without clan and therefore wild, it became about a man who goes wild. Berserkers in other words. It is an old word and seems to only be used in formal or ceremonial situations. Sigurd called himself a berserker and most other berserkers that I met called themselves the same.)

There are a lot of stories about the depraved rites of the cult of Svalbold and I'm here to tell you that nearly all of it is false. Yes there is violence but if you put a group of people who warp spasm occasionally and need to learn how to control their temper into a confined space then you are going to get violent outbursts.

There is also drinking and the taking of narcotics. The process of forcing yourself to rage is a dangerous one and it often needs to be helped along with strong drink and the ingestion of certain mushrooms.

It is also not an “all or nothing” kind of a cult. There are stages to membership of the cult and if you want to resist the changes that they can help you achieve, then that is alright too.

I won't go into too many details on the grounds that a lot of those rites are meant to be secret. Correctly so in my opinion as they could be considered quite dangerous.

Kerrass smirked at that.

But suffice it to say that I went to their compound. I learnt how to control my rage and how to bring it on in times of combat or in times of war. I did not go all the way so I do not turn into a bear like the fully annointed warriors of Svalbold do. But I was an enthusiastic student and I left to my life of service, looking forward to being a hero of the clan.

Needless to say, it didn't go entirely according to plan.

He took a deep breath and stared at the floor for a long moment before looking back up at us all. I found pity then in a way that I had not expected. He was haunted by this and still found it upsetting. He spun in a circle and pointed at us all.

Every man amongst you. Every single one. Knows that there may come a time when you might have to die in order for your fellows to live. We all know that. We all know that and everyone would be proud to lay down our lives for our fellows. I would die for each and every one of you and I would do so with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. I know this. Just as I also know that you would die for me if the same situation was reversed.

That respect, that love that we have for each other. That honour that we pay towards each other. That love that we share is a privilege. It is not a right among warriors. I can see that many of you are shaking your heads in disbelief that there might be some other warriors that might disagree. Another boat crew that does not care for each other to the way that we do. But it is true.

I know this. I know this because it happened to me.

I should have seen it coming as well. I should have seen it when I was given the smallest share of the booty when we were dividing up the spoils of our war. When the excuse of “Well you're the youngest” began to be provably false. I should have seen it in the sidelong glances and at all the times that I was turned away from camp and cook fires. The way that men refused to look me in the eye or pour me a drink.

But I was a man of honour and I served clan Brokvar with all my heart. I took the problem to my parents and they were no help. My father was proud that he had a seat at a higher table, having given his son over to the clan as a berserker. My mother felt it a little keener as some people had thought it a negative that she had raised a berserker and she had taken to drink. Both of them told me that it was just a phase and that the men would get over it and accept me eventually.

But I should have seen the truth. They didn't make friends with me because I was expected to die. My deeds weren't allowed to make me wealthy because the money was wasted. As was decent armour and weapons. I can see all of this now but at the time it was just a source of pain. I was told, over and over again, that I was a berserker. I didn't need armour or decent weapons to destroy the enemy.

And destroy the enemy I did. But even when I was drenched in the blood of my enemies. Even when I had taken wounds that needed healing I was treated last.

I was a berserker. And to these men it made me disposable.

There was a long pause as Sigurd stared at his feet for a while. There was a feeling of rawness to what was happening. These were wounds that still hurt.

I should have seen it coming really. I should have known what was going to happen but I was so tied into the honour and service of the thing, that I just didn't see it. I was a raider and a reaver of clan Brokvar and I was proud of that.

I was sailing with a captain that I will not name. I prefer not to, it is a greater insult to him that I do not remember his name and that it not be recorded. We had heard of Helfdan the bastard. The black boar of Clan An Craite. We had seen the Wave-Serpent in dock and laughed at the age of the vessel. We had scoffed at how she would barely be able to hold herself up. How she would be unable to withstand our might. She looked shabby and beaten up. We reasoned that the men who sailed in such a vessel would be weak and spineless, that Helfdan's successes could be put down to luck rather than skill. That they were sailing for a rival clan was a factor to be sure but we wanted to prove ourselves the better crew. Helfdan's legend was growing and ours was being pushed into the shade.

So we decided to destroy it.

We listened carefully to when Helfdan was given his raiding territories. Our Captain didn't tell us everything but he had access to certain information that we did not which meant that we could follow the Wave-Serpent fairly easily. I don't know how he did it but he did and we were able to see where they landed. Our intention was that we were going to wait until the crew had gone ashore before we could land ourselves and set up an ambush for Helfdan and his men for when they returned.

Everything went according to plan. We were able to bring our ship close to the Wave-Serpent and we disembarked. Wore our armour and took our positions.

Only to discover that it had all been a ruse. Because Helfdan had seen us coming. Whether it was in the halls of Kaer Trolde where the raiding territories were assigned. Or whether it was on the sea, or whether there was some link in the Captain's information that had let us down in some way. I don't know and I find that I would rather not know. It is somehow better this way if I don't know.

But he did.

We outnumbered him. Clan Tuirseach still held the throne and although Clan An Craite was still powerful, Helfdan was not yet as rich or powerful within the captains of the An Craite as he is now. So there were more of us. We were better armed. Better equipped and we should have had every advantage.

We never stood a chance.

We were so over-confident. That's the thing that I remember the most. We still outnumbered Helfdan and his men by 2 to 1 and they were on their way back from the raid so they would already be bloodied and bruised.

We had our line. We were two deep and we were still longer than the longest line that Helfdan could form. It was a one-sided affair.

They just rolled us up. In the same way that you might roll up a rug or a carpet. I know the tactic now of course. We had put our physical strength in the middle of the line and then the strength of our troops and their armour lessoned on either side in the hope that we could split the enemy shield wall in the middle. Svein ordered his hardest hitters on the flank and then spread out down the line. So when his strongest troops hit our weakest we just folded up like so much linen. Then Helfdan's strongest troops joined forces with his next strongest and just worked their way down the line.

It was not a good fight for a berserker. I was un-armoured and wielding a glorified club with a lump of metal on the end. Calling it a hammer would be charitable. I called it my axe and took great pride in it but now I know the difference between a good axe and a poor one. This was a poor one and I was wearing a padded jacket that was too small for me.

So I was on the end of the line. I wasn't happy there. I thought that I would be able to win more glory in the middle or in that end of the line where the fighting was fiercest where I could take on some of the more named members of Helfdan's crew. Men like Haakon Dead-Eyes and Svein the Hardhand. But instead I was at the end of the line where our opposition were openly grinning and laughing at us as they just held their shields in the way of our blows and refused to fight us.

The truth is that we were beaten before the first sword was drawn and the first axe was hefted. Before shields were strapped into place and the battle cries were called. I don't know why and no-one ever told me. I would like to think that the crew of the Wave-Serpent were just better than we were. Or that our commander and captain was so over-confident. That our Lord's illness meant that he couldn't control his ship captains as well as he might have liked to. As well as he should have done.

But we were beaten and we were falling back and even worse than that, we were being pushed back from where our ship was so that we would not be able to escape.

I was already frustrated and angry. Already wanting to unleash my fury but it was stymied by the steadfast refusal of my enemies to fight me. I was stuck in a very static situation. It wasn't a fight, more like a glorified jugger ball match only with more pushing and shoving.

(I have no idea what “Jugger Ball” is. From the sounds of it it's some kind of team sport that the Skelligans play. I would imagine, knowing the Skelligans, that it is extremely violent and that broken bones are not uncommon.)

I was even kept back from the front ranks. I know now that they were concerned that I might rage and disrupt the formation. Not an incorrect worry but I was getting frustrated and angry. Not an entirely ideal place to be but it was better than some of the alternatives. But even I could feel that the fight was getting away from us and that we were heading for a defeat.

Then a moment came. A moment that I had not expected but I was glad for it to arrive. I heard my name being called by my captain.

Our friend and companion Lord Frederick the Scribbler...

“I thought I left behind that nickname” I commented to Kerrass.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” He whispered back so that Ciri had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

… has spoken about a warrior's pride. About how we long for opportunities to prove our enemies foolish and incorrect. But also, I was longing for an opportunity to prove myself to my Lord. To prove that I had earned my place on the rowing benches of our ship and that I was deserving of honour.

The Fighting around my Captain and Master was fierce. Now the Wave-Serpent was facing our best men but we were on the defensive and we were being overwhelmed. The Captain was there, kept back from the front line of the wal,l but he was there and he saw me coming.

“It is time.” He told me, grabbing me by the shoulder and pointing to where Helfdan stood. Relaxed and easy in his light chain shirt with his sword at his side. He hadn't even needed to draw his weapon “It is time for blood, time for fury, time for death.”

I remember that I laughed. I laughed as all the fury and the rage and the frustration that I had felt over my seasons on the ship had finally found an outlet and a focus. I had something that I could take out my fury on. Some way that I could show the world how it should not mess with me. How it should fall back from me and quake before my might and my fury.

I took a mushroom from my pouch and ate it in two swallows.

It's hard to describe what it's like to take the mushroom and bring on the rage in yourself. When I first took one I was in a safe place, surrounded by friends and it was impossible for me to hurt myself or anyone else but to take one in combat is to know how the world fits together.

I am not a poet or a Skald or any kind of story-teller. Not really, so that's the best thing I can say on the subject. Taking that mushroom is like having my eyes opened. It's like getting drunk with your best friend. Or the rush when the girl says yes or the charge with comrades in a righteous cause.

I laughed. I laughed and I howled my fury to the open skies and pushed through my comrades who parted before me.

I was a big man then just as I am a big man now. I pulled the padded jacket from my frame and tossed it aside so that I could feel the cool salt air against my skin. I had a longing to feel the wetness of my enemies blood as it sprayed over me. Our side were pulling back now, giving me room to swing and the Wave-Serpent crew were pulling back as well. They knew what was coming, just as much as my comrades knew.

There was a space between the two crews now which was just what my captain had intended of course.

I screamed, I howled, my mouth frothed and I whirled my axe above my head. I begged the enemy to come on, to come and feel the bite of my axe and the strength of my fury.

Not that they would have known that at the time. I am all but incoherent when the mushroom is flowing through my.

I saw Helfdan. There were men and shields in the way but I could see him. I laughed at his cowardice and his fear. He was hiding behind better men than he and I begged him to face me like a man.

Of course he declined. I suspect now that had he wanted to. Svein would have tied him up and dumped him somewhere well out of the way so that the rest of the crew could kill me at their leisure.

(This got a hearty laugh as Svein nodded his agreement easily)

So I determined that I would get to him and wipe the smile from his face. That small and ever so slightly mocking smirk.

I know that that smirk wasn't meant for me now. I am aware of that. It was directed at my Captain. But at the time, it cut me worse than any knife, sword or axe. That is the way of the mushroom and if my anger had been a red hot blaze, now it was a white hot furnace. The kind of heat that can melt iron.

I charged into the enemy ranks. Axe whistling as it cut through the air.

But we had been out-thought and out manoeuvred again. I am now aware that the crew of the Wave-Serpent were well aware of the presence of a berserker in our midst and they were also well aware of how that berserker would be used. So they knew that I was coming.

The air screamed as it parted before the onrush of my axe as I whirled and laughed and bellowed at the insolent nothings that were in my way. And although I leapt at my opponents with everything I had. I rushed, I shouted, I jeered and I spat. But my axe met nothing but the wood of shields.

Over and over again I struck. Over and Over again there was a thunk as metal hit wood. The frustration that I felt was growing the anger and the rage were becoming all consuming.

My axe broke, showing the quality of the weapon that I had been presented with, the metal head spinning off so that it glinted in the sun so that I was left with little more than a club. I don't know how it happened. I can imagine though. That someone trapped the head of the axe and attacked the haft rather than me. But I had lost my weapon and still I struck out at my enemies.

I was surrounded now and my rage was reaching a peak. Sooner or later, the body can only withstand so much before it begins to rebel at the onslaught of feelings and chemical reactions that it is being assaulted by. Sooner or later it just gives up and I felt that moment upon me. The small part of me that remains separate and detached when I am in the throes of my rage was aware that it was coming. They train you to look for it and be prepared for it. To make yourself safe before that moment happens. It is hard. Desperately difficult to get it right.

But I was surrounded by a wall of shields and I threw myself at them desperately and as I did so the circle contracted around me until I was confined. Just a rabid, wild thing inside a cage of wood.

Eventually I stopped. No-one ever talks about that bit. The part where the berserker just runs out of.... whatever it is that keeps the berserker going. Normally berserkers are found under mountains of corpses or in bits in front of the shield wall. I can say that we are normally unconscious. But in this case I just found myself standing. The weight of what remained of my axe had pulled my arms down to my sides and I just stood there. Drenched in sweat and shaking. I was struggling to breathe and my eyesight was going grey.

This is the most dangerous part of being a berserker. You go from being the strongest most frightening person on the battlefield who takes down men by the dozens to a man who would get savaged to death by a rabbit.

A young rabbit at that.

The circle of shields faced me. Men peered out at me through the gaps in the shield wall. There was a rattle of wood and I turned. Helfdan pushed his way though the wall of shields until he stood before me. His sword was still in his scabbard and his own axe hung from it's hoop next to his blade. He gazed at me for a long time, saying nothing, staring at a point a little above my heart. The significance of that didn't really register with me at the time.

Then he lifted his hand and pointed. I turned and I saw that my “Friends and comrades” had left me to die on the beach. They had used me as a distraction in order to make it to their ship and get themselves back into the water to flee.

“They left me.” I heard myself say as the remains of my axe slipped from my fingers. “They left me.”

“Yes.” Helfdan said calmly. “They left you. Left you to die and left me to kill you.”

I found, as my vision turned red, that I still had some fury left in me after all.

I dimly remember the impact of wooden boards as the men of the Wave-Serpent leapt on me.

I awoke some time later. It was night time and I was tied up. Same as it had the first time I had a spasm, it seemed to take a long time for me to return to my body.

That's what happens when the spasm is involuntary.

The same as it was the first time. Returning to consciousness was like travelling through a long dark tunnel. But where the return to light should be a comfort when the light is warm, this is like it's the other way round. I once heard it said that it was like being reborn. That the light is cold and bright and it hurts our eyes which have forgotten how to focus on things.

It took a long time. There were some differences though. Most notably, the fatigue was made worse by the fact that I was clearly tied up. Not uncomfortably. This was the kind of tied up that leaves you properly restrained.

I was also gagged.

Out of reflex, I tried to free myself but it was clear that I had been tied up by a professional. In the distance I could see firelight and the sounds of men celebrating. It was dark. A fact for which I was grateful.

There were footsteps. I couldn't turn my head too far around due to the restraints but I needn't have worried as Helfdan walked into view. He was rolling a small log of wood which he set on it's end in front of me. Then he left again before returning with a second which he sat on. He folded his legs under himself and knitted his fingers together in his lap as he stared at me for a long time.

I felt like weeping. It is a huge dishonour for a warrior to be taken alive. Let alone a berserker but it had happened and now I was this man's captive.

I wanted to weep so badly. My eyes burned, my throat was saw and I could hear the sobs in the back of my throat.

“We bound and gagged you because we were concerned that you might hurt yourself.” He said clearly. Speaking a little slower than his normal voice. Another kindness that I had not expected. When coming back from a Warp Spasm it can take a bit of time for my mind to be able to keep up with normal conversation.

“We took you alive.” He went on. His eyes were staring at, I think it was my neck. “I hold you as my thrall. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“Your life is mine and my first order to you is that you not harm yourself or cause another to harm you instead. Do you understand?”

I nodded dejectedly.

“I am going to untie you now and take your gag out so that you can eat something.”

And he did untie me. Not the normal cutting of bonds that I was expecting. He actually untied me before putting my arm over his shoulder and helping me to sit on one of the two logs. Then he left.

Not far, he came back with a water skin a hunk of bread with a steaming cut of meat on it along with a wooden bowl full of vegetables.

“Eat,” he told me. “Drink.”

I did as I was told and I was, indeed, famished. He just sat opposite me, still as a statue as he watched me consume the food.

“Do you need more food?” He asked politely and I shook my head.

The silence grew between us.

“They left me.” I said. I don't know where it came from but I was suddenly aware of the words and how that betrayal seemed to cut me to the soul. The tears that I had restrained at the prospect of being captured were suddenly overwhelming. “They left me,” I said again. I tried to swallow the grief and the hurt but it was too much. It was a lot like the feeling when I am in the beginning of a warp spasm. But this was not that. This was different and it hurt me more than any wound or injury.

“I know.” Helfdan told me. His face didn't change. He just sat there and watched me before, abruptly he stood. “I can see that you are in no condition to talk properly so we will talk more in the morning or when you have recovered from your spasm. In the meantime, your thrall-dom can start tomorrow when you are more able and in possession of your own mind. So for now you should consider yourself my guest. Come and join us at the fire.”

I blinked up at him through tear stained eyes. “I... I couldn't.”

“Why not?” His expression changed for the first time. “I know little about the effects of a Warp Spasm on the berserker but it is clear that you are in some form of distress. Come, be among friends for a while.”

“But...” I gestured at my face helplessly. I was trying to tell him that my tears were shaming me. I saw the light of comprehension dawn in his face.

“Oh I see...” Then he shook his head again. “Your tears are tears of betrayal and grief. There is no shame.”

I was stiff as an oar though and in the end Svein and his brother had to come and help me to the fire where I was welcomed with a warmth and affection that was astonishing. People ignored my upset and treated me like a long lost friend. I remember being astonished at the laughter and the sense of brotherhood in the crew.

There were two moments of astonishment. The first was when someone teased Helfdan to his face about the fact that he was writing in his journal. And Helfdan ignored it. On my old ship, if someone had mocked the Captain so openly, even in jest and affection then they could expect the harshest of punishments.

The other was the utter lack of formality or manners among the crew. There was discipline to be sure. I noticed that there was only enough mead flowing in order to purify the drinking water but other than that, there was a lack of rules that was astonishing to me.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

My ship had had a rigid structure of hierarchy. Where everyone knew their place. Where people knew who they deferred to and who to answer to. I was near the bottom of that and would regularly have to fetch other men their drinks and food before my own. Here, I was served my drink by Svein himself. The dreaded Hard-hand that had inspired so much fear in us before had poured me a drink and bid me sit next to him round the fire as Ivar told a funny story about a nymph that he had once known.

I was welcomed like a brother and it was... It was actually rather frightening.

In the end though, I could take no more of this and got up to leave. Svein pointed me in the direction of a bedroll and the events of the day caught up with me quickly.

I woke early to find that we were on an island near the coast that we had raided and as I rose, I took the time to realise that I was a thrall. It was a blow and a weight that pushed down on me. I had been trained as a warrior and now I would be waiting on a lord that I had been trained to despise. I found that lord next to the fire where he looked as though he had barely moved. The only difference that I could see was that he was now reading rather than writing in his book.

He looked up at me. I remember that he looked startled. As though he had forgotten that I was there.

“Please sit down.” He said as he returned to his book for a moment. Then he picked up a strip of thin leather that was draped across his knee and transferred it to the book before setting it aside.

Then he stared at me for a moment before taking a breath.

“Your name is Sigurd.” He told me.

“Yes master.” I answered in the manner of how I assumed a thrall answered their master.

He winced and shook his head. “Don't... Don't call me that.” He seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the suggestion.

“Call me Lord if you prefer,” he went on. “Or Helfdan. You know who I am?”

“You are Helfdan Fatherless.” I told him.

“You mean Helfdan the Bastard.” He answered.

I nodded after a moment, wincing at the insult. He saw it though.

“You have not insulted me. It is no insult to state the truth. I do not know who my father was and I have no memory of my mother.”

He stared at me for a long time. “Have you fully recovered from your physical exertions of yesterday? My understanding is that a Warp Spasm can be taxing to the body and mind.”

“How do you know that?” I asked before stopping myself. I thought that the question might be seen as a criticism. “Sorry Master...I mean, Lord... I mean...”

“I read a book on the subject.” He told me without any signs of anger or disappointment. “So have you recovered?”

“I think so,” I answered.

“Excellent, then we can discuss your duties. I captured you in a time of combat, despite the fact that the fault behind your capture was not yours... Therefore I propose a period of servitude for the standard period of a year and a day. At which time we will return you to your master and to your clan. We will, of course, send word to your home to let them know that you have survived and when they can expect to see you again.”

“Yes master.... I mean, my lord.”

“As to your duties?” He scratched his chin. I was aware that he habitually kept his chin free of facial hair but it looked as though some was growing back. I remembered thinking that it was odd. Most Skelligans, including me, working at making their beards long and luxurious. But Helfdan declined that vanity. “I will admit that I have not got that much use for a thrall. I do not take people for that purpose generally as it seems wasteful. But it seems foolish to me to throw away a man such as yourself in such a way.”

He stared at me for a while longer. Then he nodded.

“I shall find work for you suitable to your skills and your talents. We saved your arming jacket, do you have any other arms or armour?”

I shook my head.

Helfdan nodded. “Wake Svein and sent him to me.” He pointed out to where Svein was snoring. “Then find some way to help out somewhere.” He reached for his book.

“With what?” I had to ask.

His look of confusion deepened.

“I don't understand.” He told me.

“What do you want me to do?”

Helfdan frowned. “You're a warrior aren't you. What would you do on your last ship?”

I fled his disapproval. Svein was summoned and laughed as I put the question to him. Instead he pointed me in the direction of Snorri who put me to work helping with the breakfast while he spoke with Helfdan at length.

We sailed back to Kaer Trolde, I saw Helfdan hand Svein a large pouch and Svein took me shopping where I was bought mail, a shield, a helmet and a proper axe and I stared at Svein with open astonishment.

“But I am a thrall.” I protested. “I am meant to serve.”

“So?” He said. “Believe me, you will be serving. The same master I serve at that and we will do our best to turn all of his enemies into a paste.”

“But... I am...”

“A warrior yes?”

“Well... Yes.”

“So what use would you be without a proper axe at least? I saw what happened to that stick you had last time. Did they even want you to survive?”

Svein shook his head in disbelief and had walked on from where I stood rooted to the spot. The question had effected me in the same way that a kick to the balls would.

Svein turned and looked me in the eye.

“You're a good lad,” he told me, “and a good fighter. I saw you on the beach that day. Same as Helfdan did and same as the lads did. Your lord is a cowardly fuck who sent you to die so that he could get away. But you did it anyway.”

“Why didn't you kill me?” I asked him. It seems odd that that was the first time I had thought to ask that question.

“Because you're a warrior lad. A hero. You don't kill a hero just because his lord is a fool. He deserves better than that. You tell tales and give them gifts and throw beautiful women at them which they receive gratefully. Hero's are rare, you don't destroy them.”

I wept again. That's another thing that they don't tell you about berserkers. We're an emotional folk and we tend to laugh, rage, love and weep with equal abandon.

I served aboard the Wave-Serpent for the entire period of my thralldom. But in all truth, calling it a period of thralldom is a little bit harsh. I was as much a warrior and a sailor aboard as anyone. I fought side by side with men that my masters and former captain had taught me to ridicule and hate. I laughed, joked, fought and lived alongside those men until I thought of all of them as friends. In truth, they treated me far better as their thrall than I had been treated on the decks of a clan Brokvar ship.

Now I know, I know, that Jarl Udalryk is much better now but at the time, even while there were some men that wanted to help their Jarl to recover from whatever problems that he was having, there were plenty of others who were taking advantage of his paranoia and sickness in order to further their own schemes.

It would seem that I had become a victim of one of those men.

The only difference between being a warrior on the deck of the Wave-Serpent and being it's thrall was that I took no share of the loot. I did not begrudge them this. The simple friendship, trust and respect that I had been given was more than enough treasure for me.

During the winter, I guarded the village and went out on the patrols in order to keep Helfdan's lands safe. It was a strange time for me. I genuinely freaked out when someone asked me my opinion on something. Or when I wondered whether I should invoke a rage on a group of bandits and Svein responded with asking me my opinion on the subject. The experience was alien to me. It was wonderful but it was so strange as to be frightening.

But then came the day that my thralldom was due to come to an end and it was with no small amount of sadness that I was saying farewell to my fellows. Helfdan was sailing the Wave-Serpent with flags of parley, to Spikeroog to drop me off. I had been given a feast to say farewell and I felt a great sadness as we sailed into my home port.

I remember that Svein was calling out to the harbour master as to our business. That we were there to return a captured thrall to his proper place after his debt of honour had properly been paid. There was some argument as people did not like Helfdan and the Wave-Serpent and with good reason. Much wealth and honour had been taken from Clan Brokvar captains by Helfdan and his men.

And me too as it happens.

But Svein was yelling and the harbour master was yelling and there were men running around. Helfdan called out to me. We hadn't exchanged more than a few words during my year. You know the kind of thing, to pass the salt or for him to ask if I needed a top up of ale, that kind of thing. So I was surprised when he called me over.

He looked me up and down. The first time that he made eye contact with me actually. He gazed at me for a long time. A really long time while Svein's voice echoed out over the water.

“You have served well and with honour.” He told me. “You should be proud.”

“I am,” I told him, astonished to find that I meant it.

He handed me a large sack. “Here.” He told me. “It is your share. Time for you to go.”

The sack was surprisingly heavy and when I opened it I discovered many coins, a cup and even more jewels than I could count.

“Surely this is...I was a thrall.” I protested but Helfdan had turned away.

Svein approached me. “Time for you to leave lad.” He told me.

“This is too much.” I told him. “I was a thrall and...”

“But you are not a thrall any longer.” Svein told me. “You leave a warrior and with honour. Go well.”

He turned and I realised that the men of the Wave-Serpent were standing.”

“Sigurd,” They shouted and clashed their weapons together and against the rims of shields. “Sigurd, Sigurd the Fury.”

I do not believe I have ever stood taller.

I departed the wave-serpent with a heavy heart and heavier boots.

I don't think I was on land for ten heartbeats. I was met by a group of Clan Brokvar warriors as led by my Lord.

“Lord,” I called, genuinely glad to see him.

“Do not call me that. Filth.” He snarled at me.

“Lord?” I asked.

“I gave you an order and you failed.” He yelled. “I told you to kill Helfdan Fatherless. I told you to destroy him so that his dirt and his excuse for a crew would not stain the seas again. You failed and indeed you have served him.”

“It was a matter of honour. I was taken...and...”

“DON'T TALK TO ME OF HONOUR.” He raged. “YOU HAVE NONE. IF YOU HAD YOU WOULD HAVE KILLED THAT FILTHY COWARD AND TRADED YOUR LIFE FOR HIS. YOU WOULD HAVE DONE SO GLADLY.”

He stepped closer, followed by his men. There were not a small number of them. “You are honourless.” He told me. “You are scum, the lowest of the low and you will pay for your treachery.”

He turned to his men. “Take him. Take his wealth and his weapons. They are mine for his disobedience.”

I saw my father on the shore and I called to him but he spat and turned away.

“You may pay for your disobedience with service.” My Lord said. “You will arm yourself with what I give you. You will wear what I give you and you will fight and kill what I tell you to fight and kill.”

Hands reached for my belongings. Pulling my sack from numb hands, snatching the helm from my head and axe from my shoulder.

I felt the rage building within me. The shock from being treated better from my enemies than I was being treated by my Lord was profound. He must have seen my anger.

“You dare?” He demanded. “Your belongings were already forfeit for your failure in the combat. But now I see my error in treating you like a man.

“I was kind to you.” My lord continued. “I gave you a home. I gave you a purpose and I treated you like a man rather than the savage that you are. You clearly do not deserve such matters. I will treat you like a berserker of old. I will keep you on a cage and on a leash. I shall feed you the scraps that my dogs leave and you shall be beaten with sticks until you learn to behave and learn your place.”

There was more but then there was a sharp pain on the back of my head and I knew only blackness. The following few days were a blur of pain and horror. My lord made good on his threat. I was tied, beaten, spat on and treated like an animal. My mother wept but even she did as she was told and spat in my face, calling me oathbreaker and traitor. I was held in my master's hall in his village as he passed sentence on me. It was not lost on me that his son was wearing my helm and that my lord cradled my axe.

I saw the jewels that Helfdan had given me as part of my share on my lord's mistress and the cups and plates being used by his family. I protested my innocence. I told them that I was taken alive, that there was nothing that I could do. That my weapon broke and my armour did not protect me from my enemies.

He accused me of criticising him by saying that he provided his warriors with substandard equipment.

I said that I was outnumbered 30 to one and that I would have needed help to break through.

He interpreted that as my failure or that I was calling him a coward.

In the end, I realised that I was being made an example of. That my lord hated me.

It was my last moment of weakness when I told myself that I deserved it. All of my former friends, family and comrades told me that I was a traitor and an oathbreaker. All of my old authority figures who I had followed and listened to for years were telling me a thing and I believed them.

My Lord's threat of keeping me in a cage was not an idle one. I slept there for three days in my own filth and starved. I was given water and rotten meat. Chewing on old bones which made me vomit. Three days.

But then the Wave-Serpent came for me. Unlooked for, un-hoped for, undreamed of. But my cage was opened and wonder of wonders, Svein stood there with his brother Haakon. Kar was there with his dagger at the throat of the kennel master.

“Come on lad.” Svein said gently. “You're being rescued.”

“But...”

“None of that. Out you come.... Goddess' tits but you stink. Hold still while I tip this bucket of water over you.”

“It is no more than...” My words petered out as I choked on the icy water.

“I swear that if one more person tells me that you deserve it. Including you, then I'm going to kill someone. Come on, there's a horse trough out here for you to scrape the worst off. That barrel barely made a dent in the stench. We'll throw you in the sea for a proper bath later.”

“But... What's happening?”

“You're being rescued. We are taking our vengeance for your treatment and have received permission from the King to avenge the insult done to us through you.” I remember that he scratched his chin, a copy of the same gesture that Helfdan used. “To be honest lad, I'm sorry we couldn't be here sooner but it all needed to be done properly so that you could be protected.”

I gaped at him for a long time. I cleaned myself up. They had brought me clean clothes and as we walked up to the hall I could see the Wave-Serpent beached in our village. The Longship that my Lord and I had sailed on for so long was already aflame in the bay.

Svein pushed me into the hall. “You need to see this lad.” He told me.

They were all there. Every warrior that my lord commanded including the Lord's family. All were still armed with their personal arms but next to the fully armoured men of the Wave-Serpent, they were laughable. All of them were sat at benches with their backs to the walls. The warriors of the Wave-Serpent prowled in the middle of the room, fully armoured and angry. Helfdan was standing with two older man, one was my Lord's Skald and the other was a man that I did not recognise. Svein helped me to stand before Helfdan, who gazed at me levelly. There was an emotion in his face that I did not recognise. Then he nodded.

“The man standing with your former Lord's Skald is the royal Skald of King Bran.” He told me.

Then he moved to stand on the dais and pushed my Lord's throne aside until it toppled over. He stood easily. Unlike his men he was still dressed simply and he rested one hand on his sword pommel and the other was resting on his belt. Then he seemed to consider for a moment.

“When I swore my oaths for the first time,” he began, addressing the hall. “I remember noting what my Lord's duties were as part of the oath. I swore fealty, valour, honour and obedience. In return I was promised that he would reward Fealty with love, valour with honour and oathbreaking with vengeance. Later, when I got to know him better, he told me that a Lord has just as much of a duty to his people as his people have a duty to their Lord. He told me that not all Lords are leaders but that real leaders eat last. There was other advice that he gave me. But I took that mean that as their Lord, I must put the well-being of my men before my own. That if I did not do this, then I was breaking my own oath to them.”

He moved down off the dais and went to stand before my Lord who was red with fury in the face.

“I name you oathbreaker.” Helfdan told him. “You broke your part of the oath of fealty to Sigurd the Fury, when he broke none to you.”

“He failed.” My lord snarled. “And you have no right to do this.”

“I have every right.” Helfdan answered calmly. “The King has given me permission to raid your village in order to rescue my shipmate, to whom I owe my life, and to punish you for your insults against myself and a member of my crew for whom I have a responsibility. You have stolen from him. You called him coward. You demanded the impossible to save your own skin and when he failed, as any man would, you turn your back on him.

“He obeyed the ancient laws. He served as thrall for a year and a day in return for being taken alive in combat. During that time we did not fight against any properly declared man of Clan Brokvar and he served his penance with honour and valour. I gave him a gift as gratitude for his service. Then, when he returned as he was sworn to do. You insult him and me.”

“He is mine. What is his, is mine.”

Helfdan shook his head. “No. You miss the point about how loyalty and fealty works. You do not deserve a man of this kind. Fortunately that is no longer your problem. I believe you to have broken your oaths as his Lord which means that he is free from his oath to you.”

“You can't do that.” My Lord protested.

“The Skalds disagree.” Helfdan told him calmly. “Sigurd the Fury can go where he will from this day forward. I would be proud and honoured if he would sail with me.”

I nearly collapsed with the emotion when the other men of the Wave-Serpent stamped their feet in unison. Their Fury was terrifying.

“But I have one more lesson to teach you.” Helfdan told my former Lord. “If a man is taken in battle then he is considered a thrall for the period of a year and a day. Is that not the law, honoured Skalds.”

Both men nodded, the one unhappily but the other's glare against my former Lord was like ice.

“If a man is taken with out a blow being exchanged then he serves for the period of seven years and seven days. Is that not correct?”

“It is.” The royal Skald agreed. “Barring the mercy of the victor. But a minimum of a year and a day is required.” My Lord's Skald nodded again.

“If I touch my enemy.” Helfdan was still locked with eyes against my Lord. “And he does not, or cannot defend himself. What then?”

“Servitude for life.” The royal Skald responded. “And the losers children must also serve for a year and a day. All wealth and rights should be surrendered to the victor as well. It happens so rarely though and is very rarely claimed. Again, the victor can choose to be magnanimous in victory.”

Helfdan acknowledged this with a nod.

“What is the penalty for failing to follow these laws.”

“Death.” The Skalds said together. “And the worst kind of dishonour.”

Helfdan nodded before addressing the hall again. “I was given raiding rights against this village and against that ship that burns in the harbour.” He told the hall. At news of this, my former comrades groaned. “Before I decide what to do next, did any one of you protest your Lord's treatment of a former comrade? A man who did his duty and obeyed the most ancient of laws that we hold dear?”

There was no answer. Of course there wasn't.

“Lord Helfdan.” I found my voice. He spun on me and I quailed before the rage that I saw in him. Then he calmed instantly.

“Yes?”

“I beg for mercy.” I told him. “They are my people.”

“Not any more they are not.” The royal Skald said. “I am convinced of Helfdan's accusations and will tell King Bran as such when I see him next. The behaviour I have seen here is shocking.”

“Nevertheless my Lords...” I pleaded.

Helfdan nodded. “You deserved a better Lord.” He told me before addressing the room again.

“I was given raiding rights but I am inclined to be merciful. We will not treat your women and children the way that a conqueror and raider might.”

I saw one or two people sag in relief.

“Nor will we torch the buildings and strip the place of wealth.”

A number more people showed signs of relief.

“My reasons are that where one man deserves a better Lord then maybe there are more out there. The men and women that man your walls and watchtowers, the warriors that actually fought, will be allowed to stay and the honoured skald may tell them that I hold honour satisfied and do not require their service. I am told that those men are the least favoured and that it is considered a punishment to stand on the towers and the walls. That only the Lord's favourites feast in the halls. So they all deserve better. I also want my reasons known and I require that word be carried to them of my words.”

“I will do so.” The local Skald responded.

“No. You cannot do this, I forbid it.” My Lord screamed at his Skald.

“Be silent.” Helfdan's rage was sudden and frightening. He hurtled across the room only for Svein to intercept catch him before he reached my former Lord. He was wild eyed and staring. For a moment, I wondered if Helfdan himself was a little bit of a berserker. He got control of himself again. “Be silent before I have you, your wife, your mistress and all of your children crucified while you watch us burn all of your favourite warriors inside the hall paid for with the blood and sweat of better men.”

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he meant it. His voice turned cold and imperious

“I will take Sigurd with me. Along with what we can salvage of the wealth in this room. Have no fear Sigurd, I will re-equip you so that you can be properly prepared for whatever you decide to do next. I would not insult you by suggesting that you should salvage what you can.”

I nodded. Still reeling a little from his subsiding fury.

“As for the rest of you. Each of my men are allowed to take one piece of loot from the hall.” Like it was arranged, each man stepped forward and took the weapons from the assembly. Swords and axes mostly. One jewelled dagger. I noticed that they did so with hard stares and unwavering looks.

Helfdan took some more objects as well for those men still on the Wave-Serpent or on other Errands which he gave to the Royal Skald's keeping. He also took the Golden torque from around my former Lord's neck and gave this to the royal Skald as well, telling him that it was his gift to King Bran.

“But I have one more penalty.” Helfdan told the room. “Honoured Skald. Would you point out each man who served on the Longship with Sigurd a little over a year ago when he sacrificed himself for everyone to escape.”

“As was his duty.” The lord tried, to the protestations of his mistress. This time though, Helfdan ignored him.

The Skald went round and pointed the twenty or so men that were present.

Helfdan followed him and reached out to touch each man on the nose. Some tried to resist when approached but the presence of angry men of the Wave-Serpent prevented much resistance. Helfdan finished with the Lord and his son.

“Here is my lesson on honour.” He told them. “According to law. Every man that I have just touched owes me a lifetime of service and the service of their children to do with as I please. However I do not have room for you all on the Wave-Serpent. Therefore, if you are men of honour, you will present yourselves at the gate of my village, unarmed and in the grey of a thrall in order to begin your service. Failure to do so will result in my evoking the law and this time I will not be merciful.”

He turned back to the Skalds

“Do you witness my actions, honoured Skalds?”

Again, the local Skald limited himself to a nod. The royal Skald nodded. “And it is generous, Lord Helfdan.”

Helfdan nodded. “Svein,” he said before leaving the hall behind him.

“You are defeated.” The royal Skald told the hall. “Attack the Wave-Serpent and the King will know of it and Lord Udalryk will be instructed to kill every man woman and child here before sewing the ground with salt in order to clean away the dishonour to his clan. If Lord Udalryk disobeys then the entire clan will be destroyed in turn.”

Svein helped me from the hall.

True to his promise, I was bathed in the sea as we sailed away. Two days later I asked to speak to lord Helfdan. “Why did you do that?” I asked. “That was...”

He shook his head. “You are a shipmate.” He told me. “You sailed with me. You were my man. The treatment you were shown was shocking. We wanted to do something on the dock but such actions would have been illegal, risking my people as well as the crew from royal reprisal. I had to do it right. I'm truly sorry for not rescuing there.”

“You're sorry?” I was aghast.

“Yes. But allow me to say. That any ship should be proud to have a man like you on the crew and I would be honoured if you would come with me. The Wave-Serpent could do with a man of your skills.”

I fell to my knees and swore my oaths on the spot. I have never had cause to regret it.

The story drew to a close. I had to press Svein for the proper endings. Apparently Sigurd's former Lord managed to convince a still sick Lord Udalryk to declare Sigurd an outcast from before he had returned. The recovered Udalryk had no memory of the incident, but there are many things from that time that he cannot remember. As a result there was a lot of legal wrangling as Clan Brokvar were angry with King Bran over allowing Helfdan to go raiding on their coastline. The King ignored them, as was so often the case. But Helfdan's victory and shaming of the Lord and his former crew could not be ignored.

Clan Brokvar could not be persuaded to outlaw the Lord and so Helfdan claimed the right of vengeance which King Bran agreed to. This meant that Helfdan could punish that village, the Lord of that village and everyone involved with that village to his heart's content.

The place is now a ruin. Helfdan has raided it on and off over the five or six years since those events and makes it a point that, no sooner has the Lord in question had a new Longship built, than Helfdan hunts it down and burns it to the water line.

In the end, after his being cured, Lord Udalryk declared that the Lord was out of order and had him executed. The village was passed to a more loyal cousin of Udalryk's and that was the end of the matter. Unfortunately though, it turned out that there was a point of law that meant that Clan Brokvar could not take someone that had been cast out before. Not that Sigurd would have wanted to go back but even so

That's not to say that no-one turned up at Helfdan's gates. Many did arrive. Mostly those warriors from the walls that Helfdan had spared.

And the Lord's mistress as it transpired. She had been bewitched by the Lord's wealth and splendour but her fairy tale and epic inspired ideals of honour and things had been destroyed by the results of Helfdan's actions. Her image of the dashing older lord of Clan Brokvar was destroyed and she instead transferred her affections towards Helfdan.

She had tried to seduce Helfdan, who was not entirely immune to her efforts, but she found the village a little too provincial for her tastes as well as Lord Helfdan a little too....Well.... Helfdan for her to follow through on her earlier crush. So she went to court at Kaer Trolde to see if her undeniable beauty and charm could snare anyone else. Svein's opinions on the lady was that she would probably succeed. That she wasn't malicious, but had been brought up to believe that this was how people make their way in the world.

The last Sigurd heard from his family was that his mother had died and he did not care to talk about his father.

-

The five of us, Kerrass, Ciri, Sigurd and myself went with the new man Ragnvald, down through the trapdoor and down a set of stairs before we came out into a large and well appointed room. There was another door on the other side as well as several other doors off to one side of the room. The room was comfortable and well ventilated. In the Skelligan fashion there was a fire bowl in the middle and the smoke rose to the ceiling where it seemed to be pulled away by means that I could not see. There were plush looking chairs and cushions around the room as well as several tapestries and rugs that kept the room warm. There was also a table off to one side with bowls of fruit and jugs of liquid.

The room was warm but the air was clean. I was still feeling a little dizzy from whatever I was that had transpired between Ragnvald and myself although he seemed none the worse for wear. He turned to face us.

“You remember the way don't you Sigurd?”

“I do.”

“Your brothers are keen to see you again.”

Sigurd nodded to Kerrass, Ciri and myself before bouncing off through the other door in the same way that children bounce through the doors to meet their grandparents. It was quite sweet.

“Who are you?” Kerrass asked.

“I am Ragnvald. That means nothing to you though. Please sit, eat, drink and rest as your hearts desire.”

He spoke the same way that a priest does. Slowly and carefully. Emphasising every word so that you could be sure that you heard him. It was a voice of command and age.

“Yes Brother.” He told me. “I am indeed older than I appear.”

“Ok.” I took a deep breath. Trying to calm myself down. “First of all could you please not call me that until I understand more.”

“As you wish.”

“You still didn't answer my question.” Kerrass pointed out. He had wandered over to the table and was sniffing a jug before pouring himself a cup.

“I am Ragnvald. I am the high Priest of the cult of the bear. That is a simplification though as I hope you will appreciate. A lot of our ways are secret and I cannot tell you too much as you are an outsider.”

Ciri laughed. “You understand that the man you're calling a brother is a scholar and likes to tell everyone what has happened to him. In writing and in considerable detail?”

Ragnvald answered with a slight smile. “I am aware. I have read the works of Lord Frederick with some interest. I found them most informative. Especially when it comes to the character of the woman that rules over all of the known world.” Not for the first time, I was surprised. His voice and accent were still slightly Skelligan, but there was a clipped note to the voice, as though educated in Oxenfurt or Ban Ard, or any of the other places of learning that are popping up about the place.

“Not even close to all of the known world.” Ciri answered with a sniff. “Just the bit between the sea and the desert though.”

“Yes, I had heard that you were wise as well. And the presence of a Witcher all but confirms the identity of the people here assembled. But I think we're getting away from ourselves.”

“More than a little.” Kerrass agreed as he bit into a piece of fruit.

“Hang on. I still want to know what happened up there and where the fuck we are.” I demanded. Still more than a little bit unsettled.

“And I shall tell you. You, I can tell everything. But the Witcher and the Empress pose some problems.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The bear does not approve of them.”

“That sounds like mystical bullshit to me.” Ciri responded with another sniff, pulling a clother from her sleeve and blowing her nose with gusto.

“In my experience there is a lot of truth in mystical bullshit.” Kerrass warned her. “A lot of wisdom too.”

“That doesn't stop it being bullshit.” Ciri retorted with a slight smile. “But I am willing to let myself be persuaded.”

“So grateful.” Ragnvald told her with an answering, slightly mocking smile.

“Ok.” I told the room. “I think I'm being really calm at the moment. Really. Fucking. Calm.”

Kerrass and Ciri looked at me and giggled like school children.

“Helpful.” I commented with as much withering scorn as I could.

“I promise, Lord Frederick, that I will explain everything that you might want to know.” Ragnvald explained to me. “After that you can tell your friends, or your public anything you like. A loophole in our rules that has not been closed, to date, by those that we answer to. Therefore I'm going to take every advantage in order to spread the word and demystify what happens here. That's the deal Lord Frederick. In return for answering your questions, you have to speak about what you see, hear and experience here.”

“He was going to do that anyway.” Kerrass commented.

“Nevertheless. Lord Frederick? May I have your promise.”

“Of course.”

“Excellent. In which case, if you will permit me a few more words with your companions.”

“So courteous.” Ciri answered in her best courtier voice. “Words and manners that would not be out of place in the Imperial court. Startling coming out of a man wrapped in a bear skin.”

“Of all people, Imperial majesty, you should know that you must never judge a book by it's cover.” Ragnvald looked like a man who was enjoying himself. “yes, I read and write. And I have educated myself on many of those texts. Also... Yes, I am older than I look and have seen many things.

“Now...”

He looked at Ciri and Kerrass. “I would not be surprised to learn that time is of the essence, so I think it best that I take Lord Frederick below and start explaining things and give him whatever help that we are able to offer. In the mean time you can feel free to remain here. Food and drink will be brought. As well as bath water should you desire it. There are beds through those doors and you can feel free to take one each. At this time of the coming of the Skeleton Ship, we have very few visitors so it is unlikely that you should be disturbed.”

“What about the Watchers above?”

“We change the watch in the morning and the evening. Have no fear though, they will knock before coming through here. Your privacy is assured. If you wish to train you can either do so in here or go above. Either will be fine, we would just ask that you refrain from breaking the furniture.”

Ciri and Kerrass exchanged glances.

“What did you think we were going to do?” Ciri wanted to know.

“I generally refrain from guessing.” Ragnvald answered her. I doubt that Lord Frederick's questions will take me too long to answer however.”

“You haven't come across how many answers that man can ask yet.” Kerrass told him.

“I have some small idea.” Ragnvald answered with a smile. “Anyway. Shall we Lord Frederick?”

He gestured through the door that Sigurd had left through.

“I do believe we shall. Do I need my spear?”

“Do you think you will need it?” There was a challenge in the question and I stared at him for a long time. I forced myself to look him in the eye which I hadn't done since our first meeting and I saw that challenge there. This was a test. I had no idea what I was being tested on or what the point of it was. I also thought that if I consulted Kerrass then I would be failing that test in some small way.

I thought about it for quite a while before turning and tossing my spear to Kerrass who caught it easily. He Showed no reaction to my decision and was tucking into his second piece of fruit.

Then I followed Ragnvald through the door.

“Interesting choice.” He said as the door closed behind us.

I felt a certain amount of amusement bubble up from somewhere. “Correct me if I'm wrong. But you would have said that if I had kept the spear, given it to Ciri, or asked for their advice wouldn't you?”

“Of course I would. Because any result to that question was interesting. I notice that you kept your dagger though.”

I considered this. “And my boot knife.” I told him. “But the truth is that I would feel naked without them now. I can no longer conceive a time where I wouldn't keep a very sharp dagger in my boot and in my belt.”

“Even after you are married?”

“Even when I'm married. Even if I am walking alongside the Empress, surrounded by the very best that the Imperial Guard has to offer then I will still wear my knives. I miss the weight on my belt when I take it off. My boots are uncomfortable without them. Even when I'm at home, I sleep with a knife under my pillow and I cannot conceive a time when I wouldn't do that. Even if I share a bed with a woman, that I love, that could eviscerate any intruder to our rooms with the ease of breathing, I will still want that feeling of weight on my belt.”

“Interesting.” He said. “You once stated that that makes you feel a little sad. Is that still the case?”

“Of course.”

He nodded. Then he turned and walked down another flight of stairs. It was a little strange. It was an underground passage with torches on the walls. The kind of place that always begs the question as to who's job it is to go round and make sure that all the torches stay lit all the time. So it should have been a close, warm atmosphere. Instead it felt fresh. It felt freeing.

“So you have read my work?” I asked.

“I have.”

“Then let's start there. I thought that Skelligans were an aural society.”

“And they are.”

“But if you can read...”

He laughed. “It is not my task, nor the task of the people that live here, to preserve tradition. Instead, it is our job to help those people, like yourself, that have a little bit of the bear in their soul.”

“I thought it was your task to watch out for the Skeleton Ship.”

“We do that as well. But that is a matter of coincidence rather than by design. Or if it wasn't a coincidence then there is more going on here than I could possibly conceive of. But that is a vortex of paranoia and conspiracy that sucks at the mind if you let it.”

“I can imagine.”

“It's like this. We have three purposes here. As I say, there are three reasons why we are here. If you ask different people then it will depend as to which is most important. The first is the reason that you are here, which is that we watch out for the Skeleton Ship.”

“How does that rate on your own assessment of the importance of your tasks.”

“Actually, the least important. It is a traditional role and I can understand the comfort that it lends, having us watch out and send our signals into the sky. To let the world know that there is definitely a ship coming and that the current drop in temperature and exodus of marine life is not a result of a different phenomenon. Like a Vodyanoi invasion for instance.”

“A what?... Never mind. What is your next task and the same question about importance?”

“Our next task is that we care for, train and look after those people that have something of the bear in their soul.”

“You mean berserkers.”

“Yes and no.”

“That most annoying of answers.”

He grinned at me. “The term berserker is accurate although it is not unique to us. The curse of lycanthropy is the same kind of thing. There is a history about how the keepers of the Wolf, as we are the keepers of the Bear, let their secrets out or annoyed the Wolf in some way so that he cursed them and poisoned his gifts. You would have to ask them for the truth though. But for me, that is our first duty.”

“So there's another school of berserkers?”

“As I say, it's a little like a cult. But not a religion. We teach, support and often educate people that have that aspect to their character. And you wanted to know how important we view that task as being?”

“I do.”

“I think it's very important. Probably the most important task. But it is not what pays our rent, if you take my meaning.”

“I don't.”

“We live in an ancient fortress. We have had to prove our worth to the people of Skellige on multiple occasions or some lord is going to come and evict us at the point of a sword. One of those ways is that we watch the horizon for the Skeleton ship. The other is our last purpose for being here.”

“Which is?”

“We keep the records.”

While we had been speaking we had come to the foot of the stairs and walked along a corridor that seemed to curve round to the right. I was trying to be charitable and think that the corridor might have skirted the edge of the island but that thought escaped me when we came to a door which Ragnvald opened, gesturing for me to precede him. Just a small door really. The kind of side door that leads you into a bedroom. I walked through the door and stopped to just stare.

I had that moment again. That moment where my mouth just keeps speaking without my really giving it that much input.

“Ok.” I said. “Admit it. You timed that conversation so that you could answer my questions with a suitably dramatic flair to it didn't you. You deliberately wanted to wow me with that last reveal.”

“It was a consideration.” Ragnvald was smiling. I could tell from the voice but I couldn't take my eyes off the vista that was presented before me.

We were on a long stone balcony with carved pillars that looked out over a vast, impossible emptiness. I walked to the rail to look out over what was happening and saw.... well....

It was a hall with many pillars and it was insanely huge. Large enough that my mind wanted to rebel at the idea a little bit. There were many curved pillars that held up the ceiling but no matter where I looked I struggled to see a straight line. Each of the pillars was individually carved. The way that it would work if you gave a whole bunch of artists a pillar each and told them that the best pillar would win some kind of prize, while the worst pillar's carver would be put to death.

The ceiling was a similar work of art. Painted with many patterns that reminded me of the sea. There were wave-forms in them and although I could not see any kind of pattern, they were truly beautiful to look at. They were mesmerising and I could have spent hours trying to find the design beneath them even though I would be sure that there wasn't one.

It was warm as well, clean dry air without even a hint of mustiness that I would have expected from an obviously undersea cavern. Nor was there any kind of scent of the sea, not the briny ocean or the freshness of salt air.

There were many, carefully maintained fire bowls around the place that provided light as well as shuttered lanterns and candles behind glass which meant that the other reason for my astonishment were protected from the elements and the things around them.

The room was full of books. As far as the eye could see there were books and scrolls stacked on shelves. I was too far away to see much detail but what I could see was that there were men who were working away at copying the many volumes. Individual books would be taken down and carried over to a work bench before people would start copying the words along. There were other, more practical and hands on work being done as well. I could see in a corner where people were carefully scraping old ink off paper and hides. Others were working with glue to rebind old books that were falling apart. The place was full of industry so that I felt my heart gladden at the sight of it.

It reminded me of a monastary. The similarity was startling. There were two significant differences though. The first was that this was not a silent place. In monasteries the general rule is that people should be silent so that they can feel the spirituality of the place and work towards the peace and enlightenment that this would provide. But here the workers were laughing and joking as they worked. As I watched I saw a pair of younger men trying to hassle an older one who was hard at work copying a text. He finished what he was doing with, what I thought was, impressive grace before turning to tell the two younger men to go fuck themselves. The two youngsters clearly laughed and ran off.

The other difference was that where monks in the monasteries wear habits according to their religion. A dark red for the church of the eternal fire, black for the sun, dark blue for Kreve, these people were all warriors and wore the skins of bears and went armed for war. They wrapped themselves in the skins and otherwise seemed to go barefoot across stone flooring. It wasn't cold so I supposed that they could do so with relative comfort.

“So...” I began taking a deep breath. “The place is Elven right?”

“Correct.” Ragnvald agreed, gesturing me down a walkway. “If you scratch the underside of human civilisation then sooner or later you will find Elven civilisation underneath it. I strongly suspect, although it would almost be blasphemy to say it now, that Kaer Trolde is Elven originally although that can no longer be proven one way or another. But there are many Elven ruins dotted around the Islands if you know where to look. Corrosion from the salt air is a factor that effects everything so sometimes you have to go quite deep. Take a left turn down some barrows or to squeeze through a tight gap to get to it but eventually you will find Elven halls.

“Apparently there is a laboratory of a great Elven scientist Mage somewhere although I have never found it.”

He laughed again. Another man that seemed to laugh often.

“But the Elves certainly colonised the Islands for their own reasons. There is some evidence that they had already left by the time the forefathers of the Skelligans arrived though.”

“All of that is in your records.”

“The stuff that we can still read. There is a whole collection of things that is just sticks with notches on them but we can no longer read that. We think it was something to do with the spacing of the notches.”

“But once again, Skellige is an aural tradition. Why are there books? So... many... books?”

“Because people make mistakes. And there are things that need to be recorded that cannot be taught in the normal teaching songs that the Skalds use.”

“Such as.”

“Such as how berserking actually works for example.”

“I see.”

“As well as certain dark rituals that the Lords of Skellige want to preserve. Not to use them, but so that if someone else starts using them then they can be recognised as such.”

I felt my interest getting piqued. “Really? Then maybe you can help me in more ways than one.”

“Maybe. We have considered the matter on several occasions. Back when you released the Spider Queen of Angraal...”

“Hey, I didn't release her. Some other fuck made me release her but I am very glad that he did.”

Ragnvald smiled. “Not if you have read some of the history that we have on her you wouldn't. She was a terror of the Northlands in her day. She ruled a Kingdom of darkness that stretched a good length along the Pontar and up into what is now Kaedwen and down into Aedirn. There are tales within the vaults that would curdle your blood and make your scrotum shrivel up and try to retreat inside your body the next time she kisses you. I, and many of my fellows think the world might be better off if she had never been found.”

As I say, he smiled as he said that.

“There are records of armies that rose up against her in order to free the world from her tyranny and oppression. About the horrible things that she did in order to keep her rule over the people as absolute. I can even provide examples if you wish.”

I shook my head.

“I know all of these things. She has admitted many of them, as well as my own knowledge that history is written by the winners and so you can't believe in everything that you read. But do you believe in redemption?”

“Whether I do or not is unimportant in this case. The question is whether or not you believe in redemption. Specifically hers.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I love her.”

“Then I can tell you that I hope you are correct. Otherwise you are in love with an ancient evil that is quite capable of overwhelming the world in a new darkness. The spiders that infest every corner, crack and crag of every castle and fortress could tear them down in moments. Soldiers will be tied up in webs stronger than spun steel and then used for the food of her pets. And the world will once again scream in terror at the thought of the Queen of the spiders.

“But maybe we have been lucky. Maybe you and your Witcher companion have shown her that she didn't need to be the person that she was. Her recent deeds have certainly suggested that she is a changed woman. But a few years of positive actions versus a few centuries of the blackest evil that anyone can imagine..”

We came to a spiral staircase that we walked down so that we were on the floor of the cavern, moving through the massive stacks of books.

“But when we read about your adventures there, we did some research on the matter of the ritual regarding the enslavement of a Vampire.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. We spent quite a bit of time looking for it on the grounds that such a ritual might be useful. You know, if your betrothed really did begin to turn back to her old ways. Or that one of her fellows decided to follow through on such matters.” He sighed in what I took for disappointment. We couldn't find it, although we did find some mention that it had existed at one point. There was even an attempt to reconstruct the ritual in order to defeat the Spider-Queen as well as some of the other Higher Vampires that were terrorising humanity at around that time. The only record that we have on the matter is that “The price was to high and that the should of any who attempted such a ritual would be forever damned”.”

“Cryptic. And Terrifying at the same time.” Something was tickling my brain.

“We thought so.” He said offhandedly. “We had rather more luck on the subject of what happened to your sister.”

I felt my pulse start to race a little.

“Not a great deal of luck,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to my excitement. “But some luck as to ways that it could be explored. I have a list of people that you will be able to speak to that might be able to talk to you about the type of magic that was used to take your sister away from you, as well as those people that might have been able to do it. I hope you understand that we could not send word due to our vows of secrecy but we were confident that you would come here eventually anyway. I have compiled what we know into a volume for you so that you can take it away and study it at your leisure. ”

“Thank you.” I said, breathing a little harder.

“I also have some details on the subject of what you called the Cult of the First-Born and the cults of Crom Cruarch which you may find interesting. We have known about them for some time in all truth. We were aware that there was a problem but, again, we were unable to send word to anyone that might have the power to do anything about that. Really, it is quite lucky that you got out of all of that alive all things considering. But still, I will give you those as well in the hopes that you will pass the details on to whomever can make the best use out of them.”

“I will try. I was feeling a little dizzy. A sense of... anti-fulfillment was upon me. If I had known of this place then I could have come straight here and got the information. I could have used the information to save lives and to take steps that might have....

What?

Ragnvald had walked past me a little way before realising that I was no longer keeping up with him and he turned to look back at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Who?...” I began before having to swallow the acid feeling at the back of my throat. “Who do I...” I looked up at him and saw pity in his eyes. I didn't want pity. I wanted rage, I wanted...

“So I understand that you had oaths that you have to fulfil about secrecy.” I told him trying to come at it from a different angle.

His eyes seemed to glow and sparkle. I noticed that his eyes were golden.

There it was. There was the rage that I was looking for. In the centre of my chest. There it was. I found my lips pulling back from my teeth in a snarl.

“Who is it that I need to fucking murder for keeping this from me.” I growled. “Who is it that could have made the decision? Who could have sent a message to you to pass that information on? Who could have come here and told you to make that known. Do you have any idea how long I've been hunting up and down... Flame burn me for a fool but who do I have to throttle...”

I felt dizzy and I staggered. I felt bile in my throat and I had to spit. I could hear something roaring and I looked up into the face of Ragnvald.

“You're goading me.” I told him, snarling the words. “You've just told me all of that stuff to make me angry. You know nothing about my betrothed. You know nothing about any ritual that might be used to enslave her and most of all you know nothing about what happened to my sister.” My voice had risen almost to a bellow.

“There it is.” He crowed. “There is the bear, roaring in your eyes. I can see it now and you should not be afraid of it. You should embrace it..”

I snapped. My dagger was out and I was roaring at him. Other hands seized me and I was restrained. It all happened so fast as I strained at the people holding me back, screaming that they should let me go so that I could claw out his remaining fucking eyeball. I wanted it so badly, to get hold of him and feel the soft burst of warm, wet jelly as I pushed my thumbs through his eyesocket and into his brain. I wanted it so much that I could feel it in my soul.

“Is this me embracing it enough for you motherfucker?” I screamed.

But then Ragnvald pushed forward and touched his hand to my forehead.

I slept.