I don't know how long I was asleep. I remembered dreaming though. I remember being in the middle of some kind of debate. As though I was listening to a conversation about who it was that had the largest claim to my soul. Which one out of all of them could best help me.

There was a viper, that was coiled with it's head coming up, swinging from side to side as it inspected the other things that it was talking to, it's forked tongue flickering between it's teeth. It seemed to be glowing with a soft, purple light that seemed strange to me. Out of all of the colours, I would have expected the snake to be glowing with a green light.

There was a cat as well. A battered old cat that had half an ear missing and many scars criss-crossing it's body. I don't know why but I thought that she was a female cat. While she did speak, she was also sat and spent her time grooming herself thoroughly. She was possibly the second largest of the animals there. She glowed with a soft green light.

There was a Spider with a large, bulbous body and long spindly legs. Ariadne teases me about my still lingering arachnophobia. Even despite having had my life saved by giant spiders as well as having walked into nests of Arachnomorphs and being in love with a woman called the Spider-Queen. Hell, I've even had Fluffy sat on my lap and scritched him on the top of his body which, I swear to the flame, made him purr. But sometimes, Spiders creep me out. Specifically the ones where the legs seem disproportionately large compared to the body. But this one didn't seem that frightening to me. Again, I got the feeling that she was a female of the species and she seemed to glow with a green light. She crouched, calm and quiet.

But by far the biggest was the bear and he towered over the others. He also was an animal of many scars but he was mighty and shaggy with age. His light was red.

There were other animals as well. An Owl was perched on top of the Bears head and I thought I could see a mouse running around, picking things out of the cat's fur and helping with the grooming. There was also a wolf, off prowling in the distance but he seemed very dark and subdued. But the Bear, the Cat, the Spider and the Snake were the largest of the animals.

Gradually, in ones and twos, starting with the Cat, they seemed to become aware of me and they turned to look at me.

The Snake slithered towards me and reared up, using it's lower body like a spring in order to be able to look me in the eye.

“Welcome,” He said although his lips didn't move. He reminded me of my old tutor on the subject of politics although I couldn't have told you why at that point. “But all things being equal, you shouldn't really be here. I would encourage you to go back to sleep if you can at all manage it.”

I looked at the other animals and they seemed to agree with the snake.

I felt, rather than smelt, a stinging sensation in my nose that I instinctively recoiled from. But my head was held fast in a grip that was stronger than iron. The smell continued and I woke up.

I was on a pile of cushions wrapped in a bear skin. I looked up and into the face of Ragnvald who was sat next to me, cross-legged. He had an open book next to himself, along with an ink-well and a quill.

I found that I was still angry.

“I'm not going to apologise for trying to kill you.” I told him. “I'm still sorely tempted towards that action.”

Ragnvald did not smile. “Nor am I going to apologise for goading you into a rage. We do not have a lot of time to, how you put it occasionally, fuck about.”

“But you know nothing about my sister do you?”

“No.” He shook his head to answer the question. “And the help that I could give you in that direction would not satisfy you. They would be hints and warnings only.”

“We will speak of that later if we have time. But you also knew nothing about the Cult of the First-Born.”

“No we do not, and we did not. Nor do we have any real information on the subject of your intended, although we do know that researchers have come to the islands looking for the ritual that would allow them to enslave a vampire. They were in love with a Bruxae I think. Something female and sensual but they found something that made them.... and I quote.... vomit uncontrollably before weeping for a week in horror. According to our research, he then went away, gave all of his money to charity and become a monk after hiring a Witcher to slay the Vampire in question. Which the Witcher did.”

“Wow.”

“Now before we get into any more details. I have some questions of my own.” He picked up the book, dipped his quill and sat there poised. “I already know most of the important details but, while you were unconscious, did you dream?”

“I did.”

He made some kind of note.

“What did you see?”

“Some kind of council or committee of animals arguing over me.”

“Were they arguing with any kind of force? Were they fighting with each other?”

“No.”

“What were the animals?”

“Hold on, after everything, why should I?...”

“What were the animals Frederick?” It was his turn to snarl and my turn to back down and cower. The sheer force of the fury behind those words seemed to hammer at me like a gale. So that even if I wanted to I would have been unable to move.

“I ummm, there was a snake, a cat, a spider and a bear. They were the main ones.”

“Were there any others?”

“Yes quite a few but they were much smaller.”

“Describe the colours of the animals.”

“The colours?”

“ANSWER ME,”

“Ok ok, flame's mercy.” I told him about the different colours that the animals showed me.

He calmed down instantly after that, it really was like the lighting or the snuffing out of a candle. He set aside the book and the quill.

“You are an interesting man Lord Frederick.”

“I have been called worse before.”

“And better I suspect.”

I stared at him for a long time. “Now can I start asking some questions. All of this was a test wasn't it?”

“Less a test, more a kind of ceremony.” He admitted. “Can you stand?”

I tried and found that my arms and legs were following my commands to a tolerable degree. There was a certain flush of adrenaline come down. So I stood and brushed myself off.

“A ceremony?” It seemed like the most pertinent question at the time.

“Yes. A much quicker and more condensed one than I would use normally.” He gestured for me to follow him. “But there is an element of testing to it as well. You have to understand that under normal circumstances you would be much younger the first time you came here. Here or the Halls of the Wolf to the North.”

“I take it that you are not referring to Kaer Morhen.”

“No I am not, although I will answer no more questions on what I am talking about.”

“What was the test. What is this place?”

“That is a long question and a long answer.”

“I think you owe me an answer by now.”

“I am not disputing that. I am more asking you to be patient while I set about the telling of the story.”

“Very well.”

“What you have to understand is that Skellige is a magical place. More so than the rest of the world where the tides and forms of magic are constantly shifting in order for the mages to tap into those flows. But here, that magic seems to have pooled in certain areas. It is also entirely possible that this is a result of the conjunction of spheres happening in the local area. Even though we don't have a school of magic, or any accredited magic users living here. We do have a larger than average number of people born here with that talent. It's often not much but a higher background level. Most such children join the priesthood of Freya or Hemdall or any of the other Gods and Goddesses.”

“I haven't seem that many churches.” I commented.

“Nor will you. You can find them about the place if you know where to look. The priests and priestesses, rather than the churches. Unlike the Gods of the continent, our Gods tend to believe that worship is exhibited through actions rather than prayer. So you find priests of Hemdall in Ship's crews and Priestesses of Heulyn working in taverns. But that's a different argument for another day. You have the need of information about the Skeleton Ship and I must provide you with the context.”

“I don't mean to insult other Skelligans, but where were you educated?”

“Here. You saw our many books did you not?”

“Fair enough.”

“But the other thing that happens here that, as far as I know happens nowhere else, is that we give our emotions animal forms.”

“Emotions as animals?”

“It's a simplification. It would be easier to say that we ourselves give aspects of our characters, animal forms. These animals then fight with each other over which characteristic is more common and will make up the dominant aspect of their personality. It's made even more complicated by the fact that everyone has different animals as their different aspects of their character. For instance, I have no idea why one of your main aspects would be represented by a snake.”

“I have,” I thought of Letho.

“I mean, the Cat and the Spider I can recognise but the snake?”

“I notice that you do not mention the bear.”

“No I do not. For reasons known only to themselves, Bears and Wolves always seem to represent a different form of anger. Or Rage. We don't know why and our philosophers and thinkers have been working on the problem for centuries. We think that the bear is a kind of protective anger. That people who find the bear ascendant in themselves are the kinds of people that need to be pushed to get angry and that they just snap suddenly. Gentle giants, that kind of thing. Wolves are quicker to anger but also quicker to calm.”

“Not being funny, but this sounds like nonsense to me.”

“And maybe it is. All that we're doing is looking at the lightening and trying to explain it. The same way that you follow the teachings of a group of children who saw a strange figure in a robe, guarding a flame that had no fuel, and couldn't explain it.”

“But I've seen those same priests wield awesome powers.”

“No doubt. But just now, I was able to draw your rage out of you when you are calm, well fed, warm and not in any danger. I made you go from a calm and collected man of learning to a frothing lunatic who desperately wanted to kill me. Then I sent you to sleep. Later, when I wanted to, I pinned you to the ground in fear using only my voice. Those abilities have to come from somewhere don't they? What do I know that those priests and mages and Sorcerers and Sorceresses don't?”

It turned out that we were moving through some kind of living quarters. There were plenty of alcoves, some large and some small. All of it seemed to be carved out of the rock. Some of the alcoves you had to climb up stone stairs or wooden ladders to get to and some were in hollowed out pits. There seemed to be all kinds of people here. Young children ran by chasing a barrel hoop with a stick. An old woman was helped down into a bed by a young woman who bore such a resemblance to her that I thought that they must be mother and daughter.

We passed one alcove which had a thin sheet or piece of sack cloth across the entrance. The covering did nothing to preserve the modesty of a young couple that were giving in to their passions and I looked away but no-one else seemed to think that it was wrong.

Clothing here was much less...well... bear oriented. People wore the more common woollen clothing of the Skelligan isles. There was still the odd hide set of trousers and boots. Like the library, it was warm and dry. Utterly lacking of any kind of stuffiness and although there was a lingering scent of humanity it was far from overpowering. There was a hint of incense in the air that added to the strange surreality.

During our conversation we had moved through this area and come to another door which led through into another room.

The next room, although I suppose that calling it an area was a better descriptor, seemed to be some kind of training area. The first thing I heard was:

“No no no no no no no. Control. It's always about control. Don't deviate from the movements. Control and focus that is the key.”

This was yelled by an older man. White haired and still heavily muscled. I know this because he was stripped to the waist. He had lost an eye, similar to Ragnvald and had a deep scar across his chest. He was in the middle of a square marked out by a kneeling group of teenagers. Like their teacher they were all stripped to the waist and were watching what was happening in the middle of the square with a focus and concentration that I found rather intimidating. The object of the older man's scolding was a trio of these teenagers that were waving large, wooden clubs. One of them had clearly lost his temper and was leaning on his club, breathing heavily while the other two seemed to be waiting.

Along one side of the room there was a large trough of constantly running water with a stack of bowls nearby.

Further down the hall there was another group. One of the students detached themselves from this group and went to the trough. He took a bowl, filled it full of water from the trough before carefully pouring it over his head and shaking himself in exactly the same way that a dog might, or a bear I suppose. Then he refilled his bowl and drank deeply before returning the bowl to the stack.

The hall was similar to the library hall in that the ceiling was held up by huge pillars similarly carved.

Further along there was another group of much younger students who were running through combat movements under the watchful eyes of another teacher who glared at them all despite his lack of nose and ear. He had also lost a leg somewhere and moved with the aid of a wooden leg and a cane.

As we moved through the hall There was still another group of children of various ages sat, in a relaxed attitude, in a circle listening to a much older man talk. One of the children was in tears and being comforted by two of his fellows.

“What is this place? How many of you are there down here?”

Ragnvald grinned at me. “Do not worry. Not all of these people are berserkers. Not completely anyway. Some boys are sent here because there is some prestige in being trained by the Vidkaarls. Others are sent here because they cannot control their tempers and people mistake that for being berserkers when, more commonly, it just turns out that the parents of the child are just bad at raising children.”

He sniffed to show what he thought of such people.

“Still others might have that element of a berserker in them but not have the... quality, the characteristics it takes to become a warrior berserker. They might have it and turn out to be soft hearted, which is the most common example. They might completely lose their temper because they caught some of the village bullies torturing a cat and then, when they have calmed down, been inconsolably upset at the pain and damage that they have caused. But that loss of control frightens them and they become paralysed by the fear that they might just go into a Warp Spasm and hurt someone. So their parents send them here so that we can teach them to control things.”

“I think I see. So if a man really doesn't have the taste for violence, but still has that element in his character, you help him to overcome.”

“Precisely. It can also happen if the person in question has absolutely no physical skill whatsoever and is therefore unable to become skilled enough to survive with a weapon in their hands. Also women. The islands are not advanced enough to be entirely comfortable with the idea of a female berserker. So we can either train them to control it or train them so that they can go and work for a more... progressive Lord like your Lord Helfdan or Queen Cerys herself.”

“I can think of very many people who could do with your help. Myself not least.”

Ragnvald laughed. “You would have made a terrible berserker Lord Frederick.”

“How do you know?”

“Your dream under my influence.”

“Alright. That's going to need some explaining.”

He grinned. “Shall I add it to the list of things that you want explaining?”

I sighed. “Look, I get that you're trying to be charming and everything but we are here to do a job. To find out what you know about the Skeleton Ship.”

“Yes, but you are also a scholar who is seeking to educate people. And I want you to tell people what you have seen here so...”

“Fair and valid point.”

“Your bear was in ascendant. That is not surprising to me as I had just provoked you into a rage using certain skills and talents that are at my disposal to help with this sort of thing. But he was met by an equally large and powerful cat, spider and snake. I don't know what these things represent to you in your psyche but that would suggest that you are a man being tugged in different directions. I stress that this is not unusual for someone who is fully grown rather than being in the early parts of their life.”

“What might they represent?”

“The most common ones might be your rage which will be represented by the bear. This is most commonly a bear or a Wolf. We find that people with the Bear being largest are generally quite nurturing and protective in their characters. They are slower to anger but, when they do get angry, then their rage is terrifying. Wolves are generally quicker to anger but they also calm down quickly. I don't know why as generally, unless starving, wolves are quite peaceful and will avoid humanity wherever possible but still...

“In children the characteristics tend to be quite simple. Hunger, hurt, sadness, affection, fear. They are instinctual things as they have not yet yearned to form complex thought processes. They rage against things that they do not understand. But they know that they don't like it.”

“I take it that adults are more complicated.”

“Actually, those creatures that are the most complicated are teenagers. When all those lovely bodily changes are coursing through their bodies, that is when their drives, emotions and characteristics are most confused. Sometimes we find that they grow out of their tendencies towards berserking. Other times people who have otherwise been calm all their childhoods suddenly develop these vast and overwhelming tempers which, in turn, often turn out to be an overreaction to whatever is going on in their everyday lives.”

I was chuckling. Remembering some of the tantrums that I had thrown during my teenage years. Then I laughed again as I remembered that those years were still not that far behind me.

We were moving through the training area now and approaching another door.

“But there are many characteristics that we, in turn, assign our own interpretations on. So your version of lust or love might be that spider that you mentioned. Whereas mine is represented by an otter.”

“But I'm afraid of Spiders.”

“Which possibly tells you more about your relationship with your intended than you possibly wanted to know.” He told me a little smugly. “But you are a grown man now and it might change. At this time of recording your dreams you were under some extreme emotional stress. At a future time you might be much calmer which means that other animals come out of the mix and start making themselves known. They might be Ambition, a Love of Family. Curiosity. Friendship. Even the influences of other people. That part of you that might be your drive to survive, the unknown thing that carries some people through the worst of injuries where other men and women die from much lesser problems.”

We came to the door and again, it was opened and I walked through into a kind of dining area and Kitchen. I had the general sense that we were moving in a circular pattern.

“This place must be huge.” I commented as Ragnvald gestured me towards a table.

“And it is. There are halls and passages that have collapsed under the combined pressures of time and the elements. Even Elven Architecture has it's limits. Air is brought down from holes in all the little islands that you must have sailed round in order to get here and we think that we are under a good chunk of those islands off the coast of Undvik. It's even possible that this entire place was once part of Undvik and that it fell off at some point, or sank. I am less happy with that explanation though as I believe that there would be more signs of stress on the floor, walls and ceilings. If it sank, then surely not all of it would end up on a level surface. Again, even Elven Architecture has it's limits.”

“I can see your point. But what were we talking about?”

“The animals and what they represent.”

“Ah yes.”

Ragnvald signalled and we were brought a platter of meat, breads and mushrooms which was when I discovered that I was absolutely famished.

“The visions and the emotions that are connected with it can really take it out of you.” Ragnvald told me. I saw that he was picking at his food rather than eating properly but I found this oddly reassuring as it meant that there was more for me.

“So, you were saying.” I said through a mouth full of food.

“Yes. You would have made a terrible berserker. There's just too much going on inside your head for the rage to become all consuming and controlling. You would be constantly looking at the potential results and trying to think of ways to change things. Or to shift things around. Or how it will affect different people or what's going to come next. If we had got hold of you when you were younger then we might have made a decent berserker out of you. But now?”

He shrugged. “You have learned to live with it on your own. You have found a use for it and it has helped you in many different situations which you already know about as well as some others that you do not. I was very pleased to read that you have taken some steps to adjust yourself since your problems with the cult of the First-Born and my assessment would be that you are relatively alright with everything.”

“Huh.”

“You're oddly disappointed aren't you.”

“A little.” I admitted.

“One of the important things that people always forget is that dealing with people's characteristics and problems with their emotion is not something that can be fixed easily. It's not like setting a bone or binding a wound. All we can do is suggest ways that people can use it and deal with it.”

“It's just that one of the ways that you help people deal with the matter is by teaching them to smash people in the face with axes.”

“And it is very useful for that. The anger can take away pain, fatigue and can drive you onto feats of athletic and physical ability that you would not have been able to perform otherwise. A good and healthy anger can be a wonderful focus for a mind. After all, I would suggest that it was your rage that took your mind off the fact that you were dying of spider venom in Angraal. It was also the rage that got you so far during your flight from Lord Cavill. But since then, you have also learned to talk your rage through with other people. Your lady love, your friends and you also, it has to be said, exorcise a lot of your rage in your written word.”

“This all sounds very cerebral for a school which teaches berserkers how to be berserkers.”

“Alas, but we still live in a world that values the ability to deal in violence. So violent tendencies are elevated into virtues. And, to be fair, the application of violence and martial skill is a very good way of focusing the mind and finding an outlet for all that pent-up emotion. Wouldn't you agree?”

I thought of the death of Bishop Sansum when I had used my rage to force my damaged body out of it's chair and to kill the man. “Agreement would be a strong word. I have certainly used it to do so in the past. As well as using it to force myself to do things that I was scared of doing. Anger to overwhelm fear. But others have suggested that my occasional attacks of verbal diarrhoea are also berserker fits?”

“Correct. When your mind is shutting down due to an overwhelming sense of emotion. Whether fear or other things. Then you do resort to anger. The attack on the Jack figure, the death of Sansum and the rest. But this is what I meant about your different characteristics pulling you in different directions. When you addressed the lady Ariadne regarding the state of the world. You were exhausted, scared and sick. Your brain shut down and you operated on instinct. That is not the same as being a berserker. Your rage was part of it and I would suggest that rage might have given you the energy to do and say everything that you did. But you were also using other muscles. Your political acumen, your charm and eloquence. If I had performed my little experiment with the dream then rather than just now I would suspect that the bear would have been there. But that the other animals might have been larger and more assertive.”

“So you help people deal with their emotions and instincts when those things overwhelm rational thought?”

“Yes but it is not all that we do here. But it is a major part of what we do. The major part of what we do if you prefer.”

“What else do you do?”

“Two things. But I haven't finished talking about helping people to deal with their rage yet.”

“Fair enough. So what else do you do to help people deal with their rage.”

“Well we...”

“And before we get going too far. Let me just say this. I came here to ask questions about the Skeleton ship. I get that you want to make your price that I have to tell everyone about what you do here. That's fine. But time is a factor here so...”

“Fair enough. That's what's in the records. Every time we make notes about how a person is reacting to different stimulus then we record how it works. It all goes into the library. At some point, we hope that we can properly map how the mind works. At the moment, we can only use notes in order to spot if there are any patterns between people struggling with over abundances of rage.

“Everyone is different. Everyone's rage comes from different sources but there do tend to be a lot of similarities that can be exploited. A young person's rage against a parent figure is a common one. Or a sense of injustice against their station in life. Both of these factors are common ones and we do spend a great deal of time working against that.”

“How would you deal with such a thing?”

“There are many different ways that you can help someone with these problems.”

“Yes. But name one. How would I deal with my problems with my father say?”

“Are you asking hypothetically or literally?”

“I'm not sure.” I answered as honestly as I could. “Possibly more the one than the other although which way round it is I couldn't tell you.”

“Fair enough. In your case, you are an educated man and can write. So one of the things that we would suggest would be to write your father a letter detailing everything that you feel. Then set yourself up...” He stopped to consider. “In Skellige we would advise people to scream what they want to say off the side of a cliff or a boat into the water. You could certainly do it that way and throw your letter over the side. But you follow the church of the Eternal Flame so you could throw your letter into a fire and be sure that your father would read it and take it on board.”

“But that's just one way of dealing with it.”

“Oh yes. A simplistic one at that. It might be that one letter is not enough. That you later think of other things that you want to say or... it might not work. It is one method amongst many.”

“I will admit to some scepticism.”

“That's because you're trained as a historian and a scientist. You are not used to the abstract or the spiritual. You have to remember that I have read your works. You believe in things that you can see and affect. You understand monsters and spirits and curses because they are legitimate physical or magical phenomenon. Whereas contacting the dead?... I suspect that that might be a little too close to necromancy for your comfort.”

“But I am a religious man too.”

“Yes you are. But correct me if I'm wrong... When you were younger, you liked religion because of the peace of the places and the temples rather than the actual belief in things. Nowadays you are religious as a kind of... you are worried. You have done things and seen things that make you feel uncomfortable. So you find a peace in the practices of the Eternal Fire. It is like a salve on a wound. You do it because you fear what comes next. You fear what will happen and how you will be judged when you move onto whatever comes next and the Cult of the Eternal Flame gives you comfort in that.

“But even saying all of that, you question the Church. You constantly challenge it. As I say, I have read your diaries and I find it remarkable that you still follow the church of the Eternal Flame.”

“Why?”

“Because your works are replete with examples of priests of the church that you clearly dislike at best, or despise at worst. You have seen the very worst that the church has to offer and those priests that you do admire are those priests that actively work against the standard status quo of the church. Father Jerome and Cardinal Coulthard for example. But after that... the number of priests of your own church that criticise you for your actions..... Many men would have converted to another religion by now. I'm sure that the Church of Kreve would accept you in a heart beat. As would the Nilfgaardian cult of the sun. But you persist in your worship of the eternal Fire.”

“I think we've gotten off topic here. I will admit to not enjoying your analysis of my character.”

“No-one enjoys it. No one likes it when someone sits down and works out all of your benefits and flaws and lays them out for you to see.”

“Yes well.... You were going to tell me what else you do here.”

“Yes. I was wasn't I.”

He took a drink from the flagon.

“All of that stuff I told you earlier about the different animals. That was all true. This is the problem with doing what we do. We know that part of it is abstract. We know that part of it is our simply putting animal faces as interpretations, shaping our own perceptions around the animal spirits. So we know that those animals don't really exist inside us.”

“I sense a “but” coming.”

“And you would be right. The bear himself is very real. We don't know why, although some people, myself included, think that you yourself have pointed us in the right direction for how this has worked. As you said in your work with the Cult of the first Born, the Conjunction of spheres let many things move between planes of existence. But what if, in this happening, other things came through as well.”

“You're talking about where we think Crom Cruarch came from.”

“Yes. We are beginning to think that the spirit that we think of as “The Bear” was one such. Of course this is all just a theory and we can't communicate with him directly. But he has touched many of us. And the concentration of his influence is centred around this place.

“So the other thing that we do is to try and separate the true children of the bear, from those who just have uncontrolled temper problems.”

“How would you go about testing such a thing.”

“It is not easy but there are ways. It is one of our hopes that all of our research into the subject will help us find a more reliable way of doing such a thing.

“A true man who is touched by the bear can channel their rage into something useful. Which is how I know that...although you would make a poor berserker, I can also say with absolute certainty that you are a true child of the bear.”

“You make it sound so special.”

“Do not be flippant.” He snapped at me. “This is not a matter for jokes. When a man loses his temper then he is wild and uncontrolled. He yells, he flails about, he hurts people, often without meaning to. But a true child of the bear can take that anger and focus it. Attune to it and become one with it. They can take a power from it that can focus the mind, can make them stronger and more skillful. These are the men and women that we can train into become proper berserkers.”

“You say that word. “proper”. Is that entirely fitting?”

“It is. A proper berserker becomes in tune with his rage. He can ride the emotion and use it to his own advantage. Although it is not easy.”

“How do you set about doing this?”

“When it has been decided, both by us and the person that we are training that they are meant to be a berserker, it becomes a target to train them into being able to release that rage at will. Rather than it becoming uncontrolled, they can reach through and contact the bear so that the bear can pass on the power of the Warp.”

“Yes. I have heard that word before. What does it mean?”

“Warp?”

“Yes.”

“To be honest, it is the word that my predecessor used. It is that thing that flows through you when you are channelling the bear through yourself. It is the stuff that gives you the strength and takes away the pain. If I wanted to get scientific then I could say that the warp is the way that we do it. In the same way that Mages channel magic, we channel the warp to do all of the things that we do ourselves.”

“It sounds dangerous.”

“And it can be. But that's what the training is for. We teach people to contact the bear safely. We teach them to deal with the warp properly and how to purge it from the system without harming themselves or harming others.”

“How does one go about doing such a thing?”

“It starts with the same kind of work that we do with other people. Letting them strip away all of the other targets for their rage so that it can become a shapeless, raging things. Then it's a case of being able to tap into that feeling properly. It's a matter of meditation. Both from the sitting still and processing things, but also from the physical activity side of things.”

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“I have heard stories of men that can transform themselves into bears or bear like creatures as part of their berserking rage.”

“Yes, they can become very similar to the Lycanthropes of the continent, except, instead of being Wolves....”

“They are bears.” I finished for him.

“As you say. Those men that we have taught to be the proper berserkers, those men that can take on the power of the Warp that the bear gives them have an opportunity to take on the full aspect of the bear. The full power of him. There is a ritual that can be done in the depths of this place, and no I'm not going to tell you what it involves, where a man can take on that power of transformation as part of his Warp Spasm.”

“Tales tell of the Red Feast where men transformed into bears and slaughtered the attending men and women.”

“Yes.” Ragnvald shifted uncomfortably. Then he sighed. “The process is actually fairly easy. You take the potion and wear the talisman and anyone can transform into a bear when they get angry. But then they would thrash around in their rage and pain. It takes the focus of a true berserker in order to control that rage and keep their conscious thought while they are raging. It also takes that focus to resist the pain and the madness that comes with such a transformation. We caught the traitor who sold the poison and gave the method away. Our vengeance was...”

“Extreme?”

“I was going to say “justified”.”

“So meditation and the right emotional context can bring on a berserker fit, or a Warp Spasm if you prefer?”

“There are also drug, herb and mushrooms that we can feed people so that they can get there that bit quicker and easier. These are the methods that some.... calling them “lesser” berserkers is a little unfair to them but those people who find it more difficult to contact the bear take some of the mushrooms with them when they go off to serve the Lords that need their services.”

“Is that a necessity. Serving ambitious Lords.”

“Yes. Sometimes this is because the Lords pay for our upkeep and so we have to send them warriors in order to make sure that they don't turn against us. But also because having a channel for that rage, especially in a young man, is healthy. In using that rage to serve the lords and Skellige as a whole is a way that we can serve the world as a whole. It was certainly the path that I chose. Then, when we are injured enough to be unable to fight then we come back and continue our service. In doing so we continue to serve Skellige and the Bear himself.

“Or herself. We haven't yet decided on the gender of the bear.”

“From the sounds of things, it could go either way.”

“That's what my wife says. But that's what makes the difference. Those people that feed of their anger and can turn it into something useful, those are the people that we can help and turn into berserkers. Those people that are just angry without form or structure, those are people that need help in order to get past it. But both sets of people need to be taught that anger is not bad. Rage is not bad, it does not make you evil.”

He seemed to be looking at me very closely.

“Anger is not bad Lord Frederick. It's what we do with it that's important. Turning it inwards towards yourself is not good, or healthy for anyone. Nor is raging at any kind of external targets that just happen to be passing by. That is also not healthy.

“But turning it into energy to keep yourself going. To turn it into a passion for betterment...

“A good example is the man that rages against local crime and social injustice. But instead of killing criminals and the like, he becomes a watchman or a legal person in order to help fight that crime. Or become a civil servant in order to work against the injustice. That is a healthy use of anger.”

I nodded.

“I take your point.” I told him. “So what is the last thing you do.”

“Well, we record and watch for the Skeleton Ship don't we.”

He grinned at me.

“So, where would you like to begin?”

“There's a line here about starting at the beginning here isn't there.” I commented.

“There is.”

“But that's not where I want to start. Instead I want to do something else. I can assume that, at some stage, you were given your task and that you have recorded everything but before all that I want to know this. Has anyone ever actually turned up trying to remove the Skeleton Ship. In short has anyone done this before?”

“Why do you start with that question?”

“Oh come on,” I pushed back a little indignantly. “I have paid your price and listened to you talk about the Bear spirit and the use of rage and anger. Surely it is now time for you to answer some of my questions.”

“Indulge my curiosity.”

I glared at him but I began to get the sense that he wouldn't be moved on this.

“One of the besetting problems with this entire situation.” I began. “Is why hasn't this been done before? Why has no-one actually taken steps to get rid of or dismiss the Skeleton Ship. Surely there's even a compassion thing to be said. That those souls on the ship are trapped and need to be released from whatever it is that they are trapped aboard.”

He was nodding as he was listening.

“The Skeleton Ship damages the islands.” I continued. “The cold and the ice all but brings your economy to a halt. It damages the flora and fauna, it beaches your ships and halts any industry that there might be around the place. And yes, I am aware of the spiritual nature of what the Skeleton Ship has come to represent to the people of the islands, but I am also just as aware that you could build another ship, sail it through the harbour in the middle of winter or at any other point and it would represent a similar passing. It would fulfil the same purpose. So why do the Skelligan people permit this to continue?”

He smiled at me. “You have already got several answers for that question haven't you.”

“We have. The easiest answer is that the task is impossible. We reject this option utterly. Nothing is impossible, it is merely difficult and maybe impossible right now. But in the long term, any problem is solvable. Any curse can be lifted, any monster destroyed and any spirit dismissed. As it is, we are pretty sure we know what the solution is...”

He opened his mouth to ask the question.

“No.” I told him to forestall him. “No more questions from you. You asked the question and now I am answering it. You can wait.”

He smiled. “Fair enough.”

“So the other answer to the question is that the method of lifting the curse is known but not possible. This is unlikely, but what is far more likely is that the solution to the problem is well known, more than possible, and easy to carry out. But that the people that have the keeping of this problem are unwilling to follow through on that solution, for whatever reason, which leads us into a follow up answer.”

He was nodding.

“That answer being that the problem is a cultural one.” I told him. “That certain people know how to remove the curse of the Skeleton Ship but that those people gain some advantage from the passing of the ship. Off the top of our heads there are a lot of merchants, that make a lot of money by making up the shortfall in food and drink that is lost to the privations suffered by the islands after the Skeleton Ship passes. Hell, my sister alone probably stands to lose.... Flame knows how much.”

“Reconsidering your life choices Lord Frederick?” He grinned at me.

“Nah, the thing you have to remember about my sister is that she's much cleverer than me. She knows we're heading to Skellige and she knows my pattern for getting into trouble. By now she's probably taking steps to mitigate the loss as well as coming up with ways to turn it to her advantage.”

He laughed with me. “You were saying.”

“There is also the matter that the ship passes through the harbour of Kaer Trolde, so the Clan An Craite makes a lot of money off the people that go there to witness the passing. A lot of money and a lot of prestige flows to that clan due to that passing.

“It's also tradition now. The thought has occurred that no-one has looked for a solution because the ship is so old. Because it has always come, it has passed through the islands since the dawn of recorded history and very possible from before hand. Therefore, it has simply not occurred to anyone to think that the Skeleton Ship can be dismissed because it is so immovable and so invioble. The same way that people resist the cutting down of a huge tree in the middle of the village. It's root system is tearing up the houses, the leaves, chestnuts and whatever damage roofs and people's heads when they pass through. It is also getting dangerous, old branches fall off in the middle of storms and again, damage buildings and people. But everyone resists the idea of cutting it down because the tree has always been there. People get married under that tree, village meetings are held under that tree and so on and on and on.”

“Which do you think is most likely.”

“I think, that the solution is known by someone. We figured it out fairly quickly we just lack the specifics. But that someone refuses to perform the act.”

“So what is the solution?” He called someone over who brought him another one of the leather bound books, a quill and an ink-well. I met his gaze and again I had the feeling that he wasn't going to be moved by anything that I had to say on the subject.

“We think that the Skeleton Ship is looking for something. What we don't know is what that something is. So if we can find out what “it” is and return it to the ship, then it will leave and never come back.”

“Interesting,” he said as he copied down my words. “Very very interesting.”

“So has anyone else come looking for answers regarding the ship?” I prompted him.

He laughed before he thought for a while. “There is one man that comes.”

He took on a kind of distant look. He stared into space for a moment as he remembered something that stood to be forgotten. After a while you get to recognise the look if you hang around with Skelligans for too long. It is the look of a man who is about to start telling you a story.

“There is one man that comes. According to records he comes on average once every 10-12 years. He looks the same, you know, same height and same build although his clothes, hair and beard are often different. He claims it to be some kind of family mission, to find a way to dismiss the Skeleton Ship and to free it from whatever torment it is going through but it is clear to those of us with eyes that it is actually the same man, the same being. He has come wearing many different costumes. Most often though he seems to be a Skelligan fisherman or farmer.

“Once he was a mighty warrior and another time he came as a beggar, his clothing tattered and torn and he walked barefoot despite the freezing temperatures and the skeletal nature of his frame. Sometimes his hair is long, sometimes it is shaved close to his scalp. Sometimes it is thick and heavy and some times it is thin and wispy.

“Once, he came to us bald.

“He has been rich and poor, fat and thin, charming, aggressive and terrified.

“But he handles the small ship that he comes here on like a man that is born to the water. He sails up to the dock with expert precision, gliding up to the cliff with never a wasted motion. Then he swarms up the rope with ease before helping to haul his small craft to the top of the dock so that it doesn't get smashed against the rocks.

“He asks his questions. He takes bearings and reads the entries that we show him. He asks questions and examines the history and markings. The paintings and the sketches. Then he gets angry. He becomes frustrated at the lack of answers, raging, throwing things around before he leaves, just as quickly as he came.”

When it seemed that his brief story had come to an end I found myself wondering.

“When was he last here?” I asked.

“Six years ago, give or take.”

“How long had it been since the last passing of the Skeleton Ship?”

“It was the spring after it had last passed.”

I nodded at that.

“Was he dressed as a druid?” I wondered.

“He was not? As I say, he looked like a fisherman but he was uncomfortable in the clothes so that means nothing.”

“Short man?” I asked. “He was clean shaven when I knew him, little dimple chin with long side whiskers. Walked with a kind of rolling, bow-legged kind of walk?”

Ragnvald shook his head. “It might be him. I can't be sure though. Certainly he is always described as short. And the walk would seem about right. It is a sailors walk I'm told.”

“Mm. But our man is terrified of sailing on the water.”

“And my man is an expert sailor.”

I nodded. Feeling a little deflated.

“So what can you tell me?” I asked.

He smiled. A kind of wry chuckle. “I can tell you a whole lot.” He informed me. “But I suspect that I would be telling you absolutely nothing at all.”

“Anything can be useful in this kind of thing. At the moment we're just looking for clues that might lead us to somewhere. Even if you can't give us much, what you can give us might lead us to other places that we could go.”

I was suddenly struck by something. I had no idea what it was at the time but there was something in my voice that reminded me of something that I had to unpack later.

I was thinking about my looking for news regarding my sister. All I wanted was a clue, something that could lead me onto the next place where I could ask some questions. That was all I wanted and the same thing was happening here. All we were looking for was the next clue. The next step to take. The realisation hit me like a galloping horse later that evening.

“Can you be more specific as to the kinds of things that you are looking for?” He asked.

“Ummm.” I thought, finally pushing the food aside. “When did the Skeleton Ship first start coming to the islands. Where does it come from? I suppose that patterns are useful. We've been told that it comes from the West but where from the west? We also know that it changes a lot. Changes it's appearance. Can you tell me anything else about that?”

“So you're after patterns.” He wanted to confirm. “Anything that stays the same?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and thought.

“It always comes at dusk.” He told me. There was no aspect of the tale-telling about this. It always comes at dusk and seems to come with a green flash.”

“A green flash?”

“Yes. It's a phenomenon that sometimes happens at sea. There are a lot of theories about why it happens. One of the theories is.... You know that the world is a globe right?”

“I do. Ever since the mage Wifaris was able to elevate his view well above ground level and was therefore able to prove the curvature of the horizon. Also showing us just how small the continent really is and, I'm told, also confirming the truth that sailors have known for centuries.”

“As you say. The most common theory is that it is the sun shining through the water as it sinks below the horizon. But I don't know the real answer. The ship is also always preceded by the Albatross.”

“The Albatross?”

“Yes. The ship is accompanied by an Albatross. You know what one of those is?”

“I've heard of it but I don't think I've seen one.”

“You wouldn't if you live inland. Huge bird, equally huge wingspan. Brown or white in colour and it can glide for miles. It can go days at a time with one beat of it's wings. Amazing animal. But the Skeleton Ship is accompanied by one. And heralded by one. It flies above the ship when it arrives and does so until it leaves. It is also dead.”

“Dead?”

“Definitely. Got a crossbow bolt punched clear through it. On good days you can see the glint of bone and metal while seeing the blood dripping from the injury.”

“Has anyone ever caught the blood?”

“No?”

“Does it dissipate in the air or?...”

“No. It's more that it either disappears in the wind or lands in the ocean.”

“Fair enough.” I said. “So what else always remains the same?”

“It's never quite the same. There are always small differences.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It's a big ship. And I mean a big ship. Picture the biggest ship that you've ever seen and then increase it by at least half as much again. I mean big. Not just long or wide either. The highest mast is taller than most. It's festooned with ropes, pulleys and all kinds of things as well that it's all but impossible to keep track of. It's a black ship...”

“Is it painted black or is the wood...?”

“That's one of the details that varies if we're being honest with each other. Also, it varies from witness to witness as to what's going on. Whether it's black or whether it's wood that is painted. I also know that there is a white trim that is almost certainly painted on the side. Around the rail and at several points down the ship.”

“Any idea what they might mean?”

“I have no idea but then again I'm not a nautical person. The most reliable theory that I've ever heard is that it's about cargo. About how far down the ship can be loaded before it gets too deep.”

“Surely a Captain should know how much cargo he's carrying and there for how heavily laden it is and how much more it can be weighed down.”

“Which is what the Captains that we have consulted agree. There was one suggestion that was made which was that the ship actually belongs, or belonged, to some kind of merchantile concern and that the merchants were the people that sailed on it regularly. Hiring Captains whenever they could find the time and Captains willing to do the deed.”

“Huh. Still sounds foolish to me. One of the few things I know about sailing is that every ship reacts differently in the water and so an experienced Captain has to know his ship.”

“Which is why there is another suggestion which is that the builders of this ship know more about building ships than we do.”

“Huh.” I commented. “So that suggests a theory.” I leant forward. “We know that Humanity came to these shores on the back of ships and that those ships made safe landing by magical means through the storms that they were coming through.”

“Yes.”

“We also know,” I went on. “That we have never discovered where those ships came from as no record survived. There is even some suggestion that they were fleeing something.”

“Also True.”

“So could this ship come from a similar place. Where we have had to recover our technology and relearn how to do things, could the Skeleton Ship have been built by people that knew, or know, or remembered more.”

“Oh, but that's not nearly sinister a suggestion enough.” Ragnvald countered with a smile. “The Elves claim that they came to these shores on White ships and that they were refugees from some kind of unknown calamity. This ship is black. Is it the representative of the calamity that they were fleeing. Is it a herald of whatever it was that the Elves were fleeing.”

I shook my head. “I doubt that I'm afraid. If it's a herald then it's been heralding things for a long time. When is the thing that it's heralding going to turn up.”

Ragnvald laughed, “I was joking Lord Frederick.

“I was not.” I sighed. “Truth can often be found in jests and we need to remember that.”

I tried to think if there was anything else that could be told to me from the appearance.

“What else can you tell me about what the ship looks like?”

“There is something that looks like writing on the side.”

“Ok. I'm going to ask a question that I know that you don't have an answer to but I'm going to ask it anyway. Do you recognise the language?”

“No.”

“Because that would be too easy wouldn't it. Painted on the side where a ship's name would traditionally be.”

“In exactly the same place yes.”

“Right. But there are differences. It sometimes changes?”

“Yes. Mostly on the layout of the deck. Sometimes it seems to have cranes set up over the side. The kind that merchant ships use to lift and move cargo. There's also, relatively often, whaling harpoons visible on the deck. But after that it comes down to things moving around. Being in places that they weren't before. Barrels and crates in different places, that kind of thing.”

“Which in turn suggests that it goes somewhere and does things elsewhere. Ok, so here's a big question while we're still talking about the ship. Is it definitely solid. It's not a “Ghost” or a Spectre of a ship of some kind. If I threw a rock at it would the rock bounce off the side?”

“Yes it would. Some people have claimed, at various stages, to be able to see light shining through it but I've always thought that that was some kind of optical thing to do with the fact that there are ice crystals forming whenever the ship is around. But on those times that we can definitely be sure... Which is when it sails through Kaer Trolde harbour, it is definitely solid. It takes on cargo at the docks outside the inn there and the barrels of fish and fresh water don't sink through the deck so...”

“Right.” I nodded, losing myself to a thought process of some kind that I can no longer remember. “So what else is always the same? What other similarities are there between it's different appearances?”

Someone arrived with a jug of mead and I poured for Ragnvald and he poured me a small amount after I waved him off. I wanted my wits about me so that I could think properly.

“It always arrives in roughly the same place.”

“What place is that?”

“How much naval navigation jargon do you know?”

“Not a great deal.”

“Neither do I. It appears a little bit south of Straight due east.”

“Is that significant.”

Ragnvald sighed. “Here's where things get a little bit interesting.” His eyes lidded.

I like the Skelligans as a people. I do, but their tendency to descend into story-telling when I just want some cold hard facts is sometimes rather aggravating.

If you sail in that direction far enough you come to a place that is like no other on this world. It is marked by stones, jagged pillars of rock jutting out from the sea like some outstretched hand of a giant long dead. As though it reaches up out of the depths in order to grasp whatever it is that sails upon the surface of the sea.

Strange things happen there. Sparks fly from swords, paper catches fire and food rots. Some men grow old before their time and still others seem to recover years before their comrades eyes. Scars vanish, missing limbs regrow and the world seems to change before the eyes of sailors.

It is said that in this place, the sky becomes orange, not the scarlet tinted hue of the sunrise or the sunset but an orange born out of the surface of the fruit that shares it's name. The water boils and seethes and the very air seems to stink of rot. Choking fumes rise from the surface of the water and strange algae stand forth on green tinted froth that caps the lapping water.

It is said that from these waters come apparitions that are summoned from the deepest nightmares of man. Men see things in that water. Monsters swimming in the depths. Strange creatures of many hued scales. Warriors riding strange beasts and lost souls begging to be released. People who go there come back different. They go there expecting to find the answer but there is nothing there. Nothing, but poison and death.

I waited for when he had finished to see if there was anything else forthcoming.

“Ok.” I said when his eyes opened properly. “So you're telling me that it's a weird place.”

He laughed. I still couldn't quite decide whether I liked him or not. He had an odd sense of humour and I sometimes found it grating. He still had the Skelligan habit of never doing anything by half so when he laughed he leant back and roared the hilarity to the ceiling. But I found that I was still angry with him for his manipulations of earlier.

“Weird doesn't do it justice my friend.”

“All cultures have that though. All of them have that area of the map where they draw strange creatures beyond it. Sometimes that's correct and there really are strange creatures and things beyond the edge of the map but this sounds a bit extreme to me.”

“Even so it's true. Traders between the continent and the Ofieri take the route to the North in order to avoid the place. Ships that go there don't come back but occasionally odd sailors do, clinging to the wreckage of their ships. Loose barrels and empty crates. Their skin blistered and scalded from hot water.”

“Ok ok.” I held my hands up. He was threatening to descend into more stories about the strangeness of this place. “So what do you think goes on there?”

“I think it's one of those places that you described or theorised about back when you were talking about the cult of the first born. Those places where things have come through before and so the boundaries between worlds are weaker there than they are here. There's no way of proving that though but I think that there is a hole there and I think that that's how it gets through and comes here, to this world.”

I nodded. It was as good a place as any and I made a mental note to talk to Kerrass and Helfdan about whether or not it was worth taking a trip out there to see what could be seen.

Speaking of which.

“Is it worth going out there and seeing what could be there?”

“You are sailing with Lord Helfdan and if anyone could bring a ship's crew back from so awful a place then it would be him. They say that that man could sail through a hurricane and merely shake the rain from his cloak.”

“I sense there is a “but” coming.”

“But.” He grinned. “But the Skeleton ship is coming. The cold is already building and we haven't even caught sight of the Albatross yet. And when it comes even the Wave-Serpent with Helfdan at the helm will not be able to outrun the ice floes. To sail west is suicide unless you know something that I don't.”

I nodded. It wasn't an unexpected answer.

“So is there anything else that is similar between visits of the ship?” I asked.

“I don't think so. We always see it in the same place. It always looks roughly the same with a few minor alterations. There is always a dead albatross accompanying it and we always see sign of it as the sun sets and there is a flash of green on the horizon.”

“Ok. Now let's head in the opposite direction. What is always different? What is never the same? From one visit of the ship to another?”

“An interesting question. Why do you ask?”

“We are seeking clues to find out what it is looking for. There must be a pattern. If it isn't in “what is the same” then it must be in what is different.”

He took a drink and scratched his chin. “The route it takes is always different.” He said after a while. “We've seen it on the horizon and then the following morning it has turned almost straight north, or South. Sometimes the routes are similar, there are only so many paths through the islands after all. All I can say is that it gets really fucking cold in the caverns whenever it sails through the islands.

“What do you make of the routes?” I asked.

“What is there to make of them?” Ragnvald answered. A little too quickly if you ask me. It rather gave me the impression that he had expected the question and answer response and had the answer ready and waiting. “I have records of every voyage that it's possible to record. When the ship has passed then we get messages from every Skald in Skellige in an effort to try and plot the course of the thing. Where it went, how long it took to get there and what it did when it actually arrived. The only thing that I know for certain, or rather the only two things that I know for certain are that it ends up with a circuit round Ard Skellig island before sailing through Kaer Trolde harbour. After which it vanishes.”

“And the other thing?”

“The other thing is that it behaves like a ship. This is not a spectre. It has weight and depth to it. It is affected by the winds and the tides and the currents. It is a ship. It is solid. I don't know why it does what it does, nor can I answer for the effect that it has on the hearts and minds of the Skelligan people. But whatever else it does. It scares the shit out of me.”

I nodded. It was pretty much what I had expected to be told.

“So what do you think the Skeleton Ship is?” I asked. All told, it was the first time that Ragnvald looked unhappy at the question. Not that he refused to answer it. But more that he didn't want to, or was unsure of the answer.

I've known men like Ragnvald before. Authority figures. Men that have an answer for every eventuality. Teachers, preachers and lecturers. Kerrass is a man like this if we're being honest with each other. He has an answer for every situation, every question and every... circumstance. Providing that situation is something that is within his wheelhouse. When you start to try and take them outside of that comfort zone then they start to show signs of literal discomfort. They want to do anything but actually answer the questions, they shift their weight, move around or try to distract you.

Kerrass' redeeming factor in this kind of situation is that he is well aware of his strengths and weaknesses. He knows what he's good at and what he's poor at and is ready with an alternative. He avoids situations where he's out of his depth and when he is out of his depth then he relies on those people that know more about the situation than he does. For instance, he trusts me when we get into court like situations.

Another example of this kind of thing, if anything a more extreme example is Hersir Helfdan. Helfdan is possibly the greatest Seaman that currently sails the oceans. He would argue that there are members of the Nilfgaardian messenger fleet that could give him a run for his money but he couldn't name them. But every Sea-Captain that I've spoken to on the subject knows that if the Black Boar is seen on the horizon and Helfdan decides that he wants your cargo, then the best thing to do is to simply heave to and let him take what he likes.

But the instant that you take Helfdan off the deck of the Wave-Serpent then he is a fraction of that man. His redeeming quality is that he has surrounded himself with men who can take up the slack. Svein for commanding men on land, Svein's wife Yngvild for leading a defence of his home territory. Ursa in combat.... the list goes on and on. He finds the best people that he can to perform the jobs that he doesn't know how to do and leaves them to get on with it. Then, more importantly, he trusts them to do so.

If I'm being charitable, Ragnvald did not have this luxury. I am still unsure as to how the hierarchy or ruling of the berserkers of Skellige works but if there is a senior member then he is it. So who else do you turn to when someone is asking you to make educated guesses about things that you know nothing about.

I felt that Ragnvald, for all his spirituality, was quite a down to earth man. He believed in the things that he could see, hear and prove. He had seen the spirits of the bear and he had seen the effects and the skills that he had, and the effects that he could generate in others. He had received what Ariadne would describe as “empirical evidence” as to what was going on with the berserkers and was comfortable with what he knew and what he didn't know.

So now I was asking him for some answers outside of his current purview and he didn't like it.

“I think...” He began slowly. “I think that, if there is an answer as to what it is, because I'm not convinced that there is an answer. But if there is an answer, it's going to turn out to be really boring. Something so simple that we could not possibly have seen it coming. Something so elegant that we will all look at each other and snap our fingers saying “Of course.”

“Or that the answer is so complex and beyond our understanding that we will never know. Even if you and your companions find the thing that you are looking for and are able to remove the thing from troubling us ever again.... Even if you manage that, then we will still not understand what we have been witness to.

“The last option returns to what I said first of all. It is something so simple and boring that when and if you do find out what has happened and why, it will be so simple and boring that everyone will be disappointed when they see what has happened. That we will all be deflated and kind of sink in our chairs, like air let out of a pig's bladder. “Oh,” we will say. “Well if we had known that all we had to do was that then we would have done it years ago.”

I nodded as I accepted his answer. “Flowery words.” I told him. “Very pretty but that doesn't tell me what you actually think the thing is.”

He laughed. Again, I was left struggling to decide whether or not I liked him. I certainly edged further and further towards disliking him every time he laughed at a serious question.

“I do not know.” He said after a while. “I do not think we have enough information to make a guess or to think what has happened. I do not agree with those people that say that is the ship that carries the souls of the dead onto the next world. I think it is too angry for that. You have not felt the rage of the thing, or the terror that leeches at your soul when you see it on the horizon. Nor do I think it is the visitation of our sins upon us as some of the priests and priestesses would have us believe. If they knew what I knew then they would see that the ship has occurred at both times of the greatest blood letting that the world and Skellige have ever known, while also turning up at times when the world has been as close to being peaceful as this world is able to be.”

He nodded to himself as he thought a bit more.

“I do think that it's a Ghost Ship of some kind. If you held a dagger to my throat then I would suggest that the ship itself is nothing to do with it. I think that it will turn out to be the people on board that are the real ghosts. If you really want me to stretch my muscles of credibility and throw out something that you might not have heard before then I also have this theory.

“I think that the ship was a real ship once. I do not know where it came from or where it goes when it departs Kaer Trolde but I think that it was a real ship. I think that the people that crew it were real sailors and that they are those sailors that have never made peace with the fact that their lives might be lost at sea. I think those men died at sea. If they died on land then they would have become wights or wraiths or any of the other interesting forms of undead.

“But they didn't. Instead they died at sea and they don't have anywhere to haunt. Anywhere to to store their bodies. Bodies that were long since destroyed by being in the sea, or have been eaten by sea life or whatever else that might have happened.

“So then I think that those spirits claimed a ship. As I say, I don't know where it comes from or where it's going to. I think that the spirits claimed a ship to haunt so that they would simply have somewhere to manifest themselves. Over time, their.... whatever it is that makes them into ghosts, has spread to the ship itself and now, when men die at sea and are un-mourned or are lost under mysterious circumstances, those spirits are called to the Skeleton Ship and those spirits crew the Skeleton Ship until their bodies are recovered and properly dealt with. Or until the spirit itself finds peace in some way.

“So that's it. I think that it's the ghost ship. The ship of Ghosts.”

“That isn't very encouraging.” I commented. That would mean that in order to track down what the unfinished business of those aboard is then I would have to find out about all of the missing sailors and track down legends of all of the ghost ships that have ever been on the waves.”

He laughed at me. This time, I really didn't like him.

“Hey, it's your problem.” He told me. “I just record things, I don't have to have to generate any results.”

“Fair enough. So, last question then. You folks have been taking records on the Skeleton Ship since the first time it came through the islands, right?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean not exactly?”

“We started recording the passage of the Skeleton Ship when we were told to start taking records of the Skeleton Ship. It has actually been coming through the islands for much longer than that.”

“How long?”

He smiled at me again. “Follow me.”

We climbed up from the table and he led me out through the door back into the training areas. This time though we moved through a different door and ended up back in the library.

“In this area are the records of the Skeleton Ship itself.” He told me as we walked. “Every sighting of it, every time that it's been seen. Records of casualties, records of things lost that kind of thing. There are also charts of the passage of the ship so that we can mark for you on maps exactly where it went. We know what date that it arrived, when it left and everything about it's journey. I even have estimates on how many people that would be needed to crew a ship of that size as well as just how big the ship might be.”

“So as you said, nothing that would actually be useful.” I tried to put a bit of a bite into my words to see if I could get a rise out of him. Fat chance, he just grinned at me. He led me through the library.

“So like a monastery we also spend a lot of time copying records across so that when papers, scrolls and skins that were used to record the information start to degrade, we can keep things going.”

“Fair enough,”

“But the other thing that we collect is artwork on the subject of the Skeleton Ship. We have several paintings on the subject.”

I felt my pulse quicken. “Really?”

“Oh yes. Some of them are quite beautiful.”

He led me to another door, produced a key and unlocked it. I got the feeling that I was being let into some kind of vault. Like a bank vault or the kind of place where families keep their wealth.

“So this is your art gallery?”

“Pretty much. Although it would be closer to say that it was more of an art vault.”

“Why keep it secret then? Why not have some of those paintings out in the world where people can get access to them and see these works for themselves.”

“Because some of the art can't be moved.”

“That sounds...”

“Trust me Lord Frederick. You will see what I mean when you see it.”

He was lighting lamps as he spoke. Moving from place to place. There was something like a burning taper on a small bowl just inside the entrance. Using that, he went from place to place setting fire to bowls of what I took to be flammable oils. They certainly smelt like that with the flames leaping up and sending sweet smelling smoke up into the air.

“We don't keep the lights lit when there's no-one in here. Some of these pieces of art are so old that they certainly predate human settlement in the Skelligan isles.”

“That's a big claim.” I told him.

“It is, and when you see it, you will see why I feel so secure in the claim. Let's start here.”

He took me to where there was a table in the middle of the floor where there was a carving of a ship. More a model really. A large thing built out of small scraps of wood.

“This was built by one of us who returned here after being injured. Not unlike myself but he was substantially older. His way of calming himself when he was feeling overwhelmed was to make toy ships for the children in his village. It had the pleasant side effect that they were never afraid of him which is rare when it comes to villagers interacting with berserkers. Parents tend to want their offspring to have nothing to do with us but there you go.”

“Can't think why.” I said before I could stop myself.

“Quite. But when he came here it turned out that he had been present during the passing of the Skeleton Ship through Kaer Trolde harbour one time. He knew that we were interested in such things and so he offered to build us a model of what he had seen. He was the sun of a shipwright so he has one of those clinical and detached eyes which meant that he carved exactly what he saw rather than what his mind thought that should be there. It's as close as an actual scale model as we have.”

I looked at the thing before me. “I don't suppose you have any other models for scale?”

“We do as a matter of fact. This...” He placed a ship next to it. “Is the carving of a ship, not all that much larger than the Wave-Serpent that you've been travelling on.”

I compared the two.

“Flame but she's a big ship then.”

The model of the Skeleton Ship was indeed much larger than I had been expecting. Twice as long as the longship model and twice as wide.”

“Where's the sea level on it?” I asked and he pointed at a notch around the edge of the model which meant that there was easily room for a couple of decks beneath the main deck itself. Many of the modern ships of the Royal Redanian fleet have a deck below the main deck but those ships are brand new. Using the most recent technologies that Oxenfurt engineering academy could produce.

But this thing had been around for centuries.

Other than that, it looked like any number of other ships. Taller masts and slightly rounder top decks. A lot of the modern ships, again, are wanting to portray themselves as being floating castles so you see square backed craft with crenelations. This ship seemed simpler somehow, more rounded.

“It doesn't look particularly terrifying.” I said.

“As I say, this is just a model of the technical aspects of the ship. Until you see the Skeleton Ship itself, there is no way to properly convey just how...Oppressive the real thing is. How all consuming the very presence of it is.

“Anyway.” He gave me a binding of various sketches. “Again, one of the things that we try and teach our people to do is to have a hobby. Something to absorb themselves when they need to calm their heads down or otherwise take them out of whatever situation that they might need to extract them from. Whittling, music or sketching can be very calming to the soul. Have you considered getting yourself a hobby?”

“I write.” I told him. “Clinical pieces for the Oxenfurt academy, more descriptive pieces for the university magazine as well as my own personal diary.” I was flicking through the loose leaves of the sketchbook. They were obviously drawn by a number of different artists as some of the artwork was so obviously a different quality than others. Some were pencil sketches. Others were Charcoal. Some were just outlines with the ship being nothing but a small outline on the horizon with another smaller speck flying above it. Others were larger and more detailed. Ragnvald was still moving through the small room lighting torches and firebowls as he went.

Then I turned one page and I stopped.

“Fuck me.” I muttered. He must have heard me as he looked over.

“Yes, that one's my favourite.”

“Favourite is a strong word.” I told him. “It's certainly the best quality. That's terrifying.”

The picture was a forced perspective. It showed a shape out of a nightmare, a huge looming...thing that stood stark on the paper. There were things and creatures leaning over the side down at the perspective of the drawer but mostly there was just the great, black shape looking out of the paper. It was strangely hypnotic. The black of whatever the shape had been painted out of seemed to suck at the eye so that it seemed hard to look away. I had to tear myself away from it and the image seemed burned into my eyes.

“Intense isn't it.” Ragnvald was standing next to me, an odd expression on his face. I was blinking and rubbing my eyes in an effort to get the image out of my eyes.

“Intense?” I said. “Who drew that?”

“A noble who was aware of what we do here found it and bought it, sending it to us. According to what he told us. That drawing is one of many that was drawn by an old woman on the continent. She was rescued from trying to cross the Blue Mountains where she was caught, freezing to death in a cave. It took them some time to figure out that she was Skelligan but even despite that she was clearly stark raving mad and they locked her up in an asylum where she drew that picture over and over again.”

“Flame.”

“Not quite but close.”

I handed him back the binder of sketches.

“This is the best work of art though.” He led me through the other paintings. In each of them I could see the outline of ships against waves. One or two depicted the fabled albatross of which I had heard so much but most were of a black ship under full sail over a storm tossed sea.

“We think it's Elven.” He told me leading me to an alcove. “If only because the painting is fixed to the wall. There is a frame and we have checked, it's definitely painted with oils and painted on canvas but try as we might, we can't get it off the wall without chisels which we're obviously unwilling to use. It's also a little bit more abstract than some of the other paintings which suggests Elven work. But rather than just being a work from memory, which most of these paintings and sketches are. It shows the ice that comes with it.”

The painting was of a shape. At first, I could see little to it other than that it was geometric but as I looked I felt myself shiver and then I could see the ship for what it was. I was aware that the shape was just painted on canvas with wavy white and blue lines coming off it in waves but I could feel those waves of cold. I could smell the salt air and the cold creeping down my throat and into my lungs, making them ache. Again, I had the feeling that my vision was being sucked at. As though my eyes were being drawn into the shape and that if I didn't hold on then I would fall into the frame.

I shook my head again in an effort to clear it.

“That's...” I swallowed. “A little frightening.”

“Wait until you see the real thing. Then there's this one.” He took me a bit further down. To another alcove. Now that there were more torches lit it was plain that we were in some kind of small cave rather than in one of the other Elven halls. The walls were more uniform but the ceiling was craggy and uneven. There was a lack of damp though and I wondered if that was an effect of the Elven architecture or whether it was because of the flames.

This picture was a much more real looking picture. It showed the ship itself at the point of breaking through the ice. You could see splinters and shards of ice flying away from the prow of the ship. The ship itself was black but there was less of an oppressive feeling about this particular shade of black. It was as though the artist was just saying that it was a black hull. The skies that were depicted were grey although I didn't think that the sky was being painted as overcast. The ice was cunningly depicted with lots of whites and blues, as was the spray. On the deck of the ship itself I could see green outlines of men who seemed to be working the ship itself as well as two figures that were stood on the poop deck at the back of the ship. One tall and wrapped in a dark cloak and another smaller one next to the cloaked figure.

There were strange symbols on the front of the ship.

“Do you mind if I copy them down?” I asked, pointing.

“No need.” He said, handing me a scrap of paper. “I did them earlier when I thought that you might ask.”

“No-one likes a smug bastard.” I told him but he laughed it off.

“So you asked me how long the Skeleton Ship has been coming to the islands.” He began and I couldn't help but sigh as I felt another story coming on.

“I did.” I answered. “It would be helpful to establish some sort of timeline to events so that we can base our investigation off that.”

“First, a small history lesson if I may. The Skelligan islands are a fascinating place did you know that?”

“As a matter of fact I did know that.” I was getting close to the painting to see if I could pick out some more details of the occupants of the ship.

“The islands have been settled by multiple different races over the years. If you dig deep enough, as I say, you can find Elven ruins. There's a large load of them on Hindarsfjall.”

“Yes. I know that. You mentioned it before, also an Elven Laboratory and...”

“Look,” he was smiling. “Do you want me to tell you this stuff or not?”

“I apologise. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

“But if you scratch underneath the Elven settlements you will actually begin to find that there are other settlements underneath the Elven layer of settlements.”

“Dwarven? Gnomish?”

He laughed. “If we were on the mainlands then that would undeniably be true. But out here on the islands we have things happen differently. People came to the continent through the conjunction of spheres. As the Empress herself told us and as you recorded her saying in your works. There was another one relatively recently. As a result the population of ice trolls and ice elementals in the islands has increased but there is someone else, another people that lived here even before then. Who knows when they arrived on the islands? We certainly don't think that those who remain know how they got here or how long they have been here but there is some evidence that they had a rudimentary language and written word. They were certainly advanced enough to have formed artwork.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me.”

He led me right to the back of the cave, the ceiling began to get lower and lower until it began to feel as though it was pushing down on me. The ground became uneven and I got the impression that if anyone ever had bothered, the formation of the cave meant that it was no longer as practical to put down flagstones or carve pillars.

“We think, although we cannot prove it of course, that even the Elves were motivated to preserve the things that we found.”

The cave opened out again into an area that seemed to form a bubble in the rock. In the distance, I could hear the rumble of thunder, as though the waves were crashing against the rock.

Ragnvald held his torch aloft.

At first I didn't see what he was looking at. But then I did. I was looking for something small, a painting or a picture but then I realised that I was looking at a vast pattern. It was like the simplest, crudest outlines of figures drawn in a pale blue-white chalk. They were shown in pictures of worship, kneeling and bowing towards a central figure. A central shape.

“The ice giants made Skellige their home, long before the Elves or humanity came here and settled and built. The Ice Giants moved through these caves and crafted tools and artwork. They gathered and ate and hunted and, as it turns out, they painted.” Ragnvald told me. There was a reverence to his voice now.

The figures which I took to be crude drawings of ice giants, or to represent the ice giants were bowing in worship to a black outline, a black shape. If I had to guess, I would suggest that the painter had no idea what he was looking at, or what it was that he was drawing. But he was clearly drawing something that was on the sea.

A bird flew above it, a black shape of a bird which had a small silver speck on the bird shape by some art that I didn't recognise. But the shape, the thing that the ice giants were bowing down and worshipping was the Skeleton Ship.

“The Skeleton Ship has been coming here for a long time.” Ragnvald told me, utterly without irony or his occasional trace of smugness.

(Further A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one. Not only was it a long one but it was a real slog to get through. Finding it hard work at the moment. Anyhoo, just warning folks that the occasional delays might also creep in a bit more in the near future. Am flying back to the UK for a family occasion which means that I certainly won;'t be able to hit my normal target regularly for a while. Just to reassure folks that I'm not giving up but it might be a while between updates. Longer than usual anyway.

As always Thanks for reading)

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