One of the warriors hissed and went to the bag at her waist, pulling at the string and the knot but the leader, the matriarch held up her hand without taking her eyes off Helfdan.
“Why not?” She asked him.
“Because again, none of us knew of your presence before today. Therefore you have exposed yourself to us. You are at risk. You do not seem to be the kind of people who do not think things through. To my eyes you have a culture, a system of honour and art. You can either teleport or cloak yourselves in some way so that you are invisible to the eyes. You could have watched as we killed the giant when he refused to answer our question. Or watched as he killed a few more of us. But you didn't. You intervened. Why? I can't even accept that you have always been here so I can accept that you came through the holes in creation. You did not interfere when the giant attacked Clan Tordarroch, nor did you intervene when Witcher Geralt and Lord Hjallmar killed the giant in return. But this is not the first time that there has been conflict between giants and my people. So why did you come here?”
There was a long pause as the older woman, who has still not given us a name, thought about what had been said.
“Needless bloodshed is a waste.”
“But need is in the eye of the beholder. I needed to come here. The giant obviously decided that he needed to stop me. Even though that was stupid, wasteful, cowardly and cruel. All of which are things that I have decided due to looking at circumstances from my perspective. I would know why you are here and what you want. What price will it cost me to have you as a translator or mediator. What's to stop me walking back over there and killing the giant?
I thought that the old woman's fan sped up it's flapping a little.
“We are denizens of this world now.” She said after a long while. “Hiding away is pointless and fruitless. Sooner or later we will be forced to step forwards into the society of the world. Such things are painful and dangerous to be sure. But it is not something that we can avoid for too long.”
“Why this moment then. Why now?
“Because you were threatening to kill my husband.”
That hit us all in the face without warning. I watched Ursa frown in concentration while Svein grinned despite his obvious fatigue and grief. Kerrass gave one of his small smiles and Ciri clearly looked delighted. Some of the other men tittered in nervous laughter.
“Humans.” The Yukki-Onna almost grimaced. “Always the same, no matter which sphere you find yourself on. You think the difference in our size matters?”
A couple more people laughed. Helfdan turned and glared at his men.
“I suspect that your magic covers a lot of things. I will let you have the answer although I do not believe that you have told me the entire truth.” His expression did not change. Not even remotely although I thought that the humour and innuendo of the moment had diffused a number of dangerous emotions from the human end. I also wondered whether the Yukki-Onna knew that and had done it deliberately. Whether or not her disgust and disappointment was feigned.
“I have not.” The woman admitted. “There are other reasons. Not least of which is the desire for a lasting peace. My people do need to start integrating with society. And this fruitless hatred between your people and the giants needs to stop. You run the very real risk of killing each other if this hatred be allowed to continue. And my husband is dear to me.”
There was a long pause. The Yukki-Onna letting those words hang in the air like paintings so that we could all take them in and think about what she had said before she spoke again.
“Why did you come here?” She asked.
“We came seeking information.” Helfdan told her. Seemingly satisfied. “We came looking for knowledge and to ask questions.”
“What did you want to know?”
Helfdan took a deep breath. “We want to know about the Ship that is approaching the islands even now. We call it the Skeleton Ship. We know that it's been coming here for centuries. Since long before Humans came here. We also know that the giants knew of this ship and we wanted to know what the giants knew.”
“Why?”
Helfdan looked at me and I shrugged.
“It is a chain of events.” Helfdan told her. “My friends here,” he gestured at Kerrass, Ciri and I. “Are searching for a woman that was taken from them. A man has information that they need and his price is that the Skeleton Ship is destroyed or otherwise removed from the Skelligan isles.”
“This woman. A lover?”
Did Ciri blush? I don't think so but she did look down.
“No.” Helfdan said. “A sister and a dear friend.”
“Who's sister?”
Helfdan gestured and I stepped forward. “My sister.”
The woman's gaze turned on me and for a moment, I felt that echo of lust, the hooks on my soul tore at me but then it was gone. “You would die for your sister?”
“Freddie,” Kerrass warned.
“I would,” I held up my hand to reassure. “If that was the price of her return. But I would not throw my life away needlessly and without guarantees.”
“Many people would not do such a thing for their sisters.”
“Many people do not have my sister.”
“Would she do the same for you if your situations were reversed?”
I considered this question. “No. She would have ensured that I would not be taken in the first place.”
It was the first time that true, honest emotion was displayed on the faces of the Yukki-Onna. They smiled. I thought that the Musician even chuckled a little although she stifled it quickly. “You consider her to be the better person of the two of you?”
“Much better.”
“Interesting.” The woman considered. “Why not take this man who knows the answers to your question and take those answers from him?”
“The thought had occurred.” I told her. “But he is protected by convention and by society. If it was just me then I may have done those things. But I would now be dead and my sister would still be gone.”
She looked at me closely. “You too, I think, would have made a good husband. But I see that you have other calls on your heart and soul. I will help you I think. The quest for a sister or a love is a worthy one.”
“So pleased you approve.” I heard my mouth say before I could stop it. I thought I saw Ciri smirk.
The giant rumbled but I did not catch it. It did not sound pleasant. Helfdan's face darkened. “What did he say?”
The Yukki-Onna glared at her husband. “He refuses to help you. He said something rather crude.”
“Did he.” Helfdan responded. He was not asking a question. “Did he really. And you wonder whether or not there is a way that our two people can live in peace.” His voice fell a little bit and became absolutely flat.
“Explain to me again, why should I not have Svein slit his throat.” Helfdan continued. “I will warn you, in advance, that my people do not respond well to threats, nor ultimatums. You might be able to kill us all with your magic but we will take at least your husband with us as we die. We came here, we were attacked, we fought, we won. We do have other ways to get our information. Explain why I should not send my men into the afterlife knowing that they have been avenged.”
There was no emotion in his voice at all now. I remembered Kerrass teaching me how to read a fight before it starts. It's not the red faced man who is yelling that will throw the first punch. It is the pale and calm man that will start it. I shivered and gripped my spear. Kerrass must have felt the same thing as he moved next to Helfdan, his hand gripping the cross belt of his sword harness.
“You have to understand....”
“I have to understand nothing.” Helfdan snapped. “But I understand perfectly well. It should be said that I am a Queen's man.....”
“What?” The Yukki-Onna was shocked by something. Just for a moment, there was a crack in her facade.
“I am a Queen's man. The Queen will know, as soon she will be told by the traitors that left me here to die, that I died at the hand of the ice giants. My mission is endorsed by the Queen and therefore...”
“You are ruled by a Queen?”
Some emotion crept back into Helfdan's voice. “And she answers to an Empress.”
I noticed that he didn't even glance towards Ciri when he said that.
“A man such as you. Ruled by a woman, who is ruled by a woman?”
For a moment the Yukki-Onna's rage was palpable. I was shivering with the cold. The wind blew up and snow swirled. I felt my teeth begin to chatter and my nose and fingers began to burn. “You did not tell me that they were ruled by a woman.” The creature hissed. For she was no longer a woman. More angular somehow and much much colder.
She turned her gaze towards where the Giant lay on the ground. Svein was still standing nearby with his axe ready but he howled and dropped the axe. And he wasn't even the target of her ire. “You did not tell me that they were ruled by women.” She bit the words. Spat them as though they were arrows and bolts ment to wound and kill rather than words.
The giant rumbled something.
“What reason would he have to lie?” She demanded. She actually took a step towards him in her rage. Only Helfdan and Kerrass stood firm in the way of her rage and even Helfdan was shivering with the cold. “He has a sense of honour. Different from mine and different again from yours though that honour might be. You can tell by just how outraged he was at the way you chose to fight that battle. But what reason would he have to lie? What reason would he have to....” Then she seemed to bring herself under control.
“I apologise.” She said, taking a deep breath before bowing to Helfdan, much lower than she had previously. “My husband is a fool. Not only do I apologise for my impropriety but I also offer apology for the insult that you have just suffered. I can only offer explanations on my behalf in that I am afraid for the life of my husband who, despite his foolishness and his temper, I find that I love him quite dearly.”
The Musician showed the most emotion amongst the Yukki-Onna. Again with a slightly widening of her eyes as well as a glance towards her leader. The warriors shifted a little, minutely, so little that I honestly thought that I might have imagined it. The leader's fan was waving quickly and a little off rhythm which I thought that I could take as a good sign of her emotional turmoil.
“I am also in a strange world.” The lady went on. “Amongst strange places and people and I am unaware of how the world works. I do humbly beg your forgiveness for my overly emotional outburst.” She bowed again, deeper still and this time did not maintain eye contact.
This time the musician didn't bother to hide her shock. Only that woman that I thought of as “daughter” remained impassive. She had been outside of my observations for some time now but I finally noticed that the movements of her own fan might have also betrayed a certain amount of emotional turmoil. They were much larger, more sweeping gestures as she looked down towards where the rest of the men of the Wave-Serpent were. Now, the balance of her movements was that she spent most of her time looking at the assembly and the less time watching the match of courtesy and propriety between Helfdan and her mother.
I asked Ciri why she herself did not intervene during this process. As the Empress herself she would have been more than capable of intervening and negotiating with the representatives of a potentially new people on the face of the continent. Especially when they began to show such deference to the fact that the supreme ruler of the continent was a woman. She told me that it had honestly never occurred to her to get into the middle of it. She was still thinking like a fighter at the time. But also, that if she had jumped into the middle of the debate. Then she would have undermined Helfdan and thrown him off his game.
She also said that he had performed very well on that level given his.... and then she stopped talking. She did grin as a thought occurred to her and suggested that she would enjoy presenting this more grown up Helfdan, rather than the boy that she had known, to the Imperial court. I told her that he would hate it and she agreed. But that it would make life interesting for a while.
Helfdan stared at the bowing Yukki-Onna. “I accept your apology on your own behalf. Although I would say that such an apology is not needed in my opinion. Our people are a fiery people and do not feel the need to restrain our emotions. Especially when a lady such as yourself,” he bowed to her, “wishes to express her anger at the foolishness of her husband.”
Something else happened during Helfdan's little speech. At the phrase “Our people are a fiery people,” especially with the word “fiery”, all five women shivered. I could hear the armour of the warriors rattle. I was not close enough to see their eyes but certainly the musician's mouth opened slightly and her eyes became hooded, before she seemed to realise and closed it with a snap.
This time, contrary to all previous times, the daughter seemed effected the most. Her fan was moving really quickly now.
Helfdan either didn't notice, didn't realise how significant it was, chose to ignore it or he simply didn't care. Instead, his eyes twinkled. Something that I had never expected to see his eyes doing. Especially as down cast as he seemed, staring at around the level of the Yukki-Onna's knees. “Svein even has scars from the many times he does things that his wife disagrees with, but she has yet to set him aside.”
The leading woman straightened from her bow. And looked at Helfdan appraisingly.
“So your women can set aside their husbands?”
“In the event of provable misuse of the wife at the hands of the husband, the judgement of a ruling Lord, the judgement of a Skald, Druid or Priestess in the absence of a Lord. There are also, occasional times when the divorce is ordered due to circumstances rather than anything else. Disgrace and dishonour is considered a good enough reason for either partner to leave the marriage.”
“Interesting. I would like to know more but I accept that we do not have the time. Will you forgive my husband his insult?”
“That is more complicated. In truth, I do not really care what an Ice Giant thinks of me and captives often rage against the captors. I have learned not to care about such things. However if he holds back the information that we need in order to fulfil our quest. Then I might need to take.... drastic action.”
He delivered this last speech coldly and flatly. The woman had flinched at the reminder of the term “Captive”.
“Do you represent this Queen of yours? Can you speak and negotiate for her?”
Helfdan considered that. “I was not expecting to perform a diplomatic mission on her behalf over the course of this journey.” He told her. “But my Queen is an honourable woman or I would not follow her....”
“Your culture becomes more interesting to me by the moment. If you disagree with your rulers you can refuse to follow your orders? I interrupted, forgive me.”
“It is more complicated than that. I am sworn to a clan who is sworn to the Queen. As a ship's Captain, I have a lot of leeway and freedom to act as I see fit. Success and victory are great factors though. There was once a man who said “There is nothing more honourable than victory,” when he was arguing that he should be spared the death sentence for his crimes against his people in the pursuit of war with a foreign enemy. But to answer your previous question. I believe, that I could certainly promise to take such matters before the Queen and agree things on a provisional level. I would not be able to swear an allegiance or grant titles of territory or agree trade deals. But I would convey greetings and requests gladly. I will say that she is a woman that values peace and is trying to bring our people into the modern world.”
The Yukki-Onna, who had seemed to relax a little with her growing interest, tilted her head as she looked at Helfdan. “Your heart is also given. You love your Queen do you not?”
Helfdan didn't blink before responding. “Of course I do. She is my Queen.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Yet that is the only answer you will receive.”
There was some more considering looks between the two. “What a husband you would have made. A pity. A marriage would have done much to pave the way between your people and mine. Now, you had a question for my husband.”
Helfdan gestured towards me and I stepped forward.
“Finally.” I heard Kerrass mutter.
“We know that the Skeleton Ship has been coming to the islands for centuries. Since long before the Humans settled here, were enslaved and fought for their freedom. We are working on the theory that it has come from a different land or world where magic does not work in the same way that it does here and for whatever reason, it struggles to stay here. We think it lost something or is looking for something. We mean to find that something. The islands were under the dominion of the Ice Giants since long before human, or potentially even Elven records began. So we would ask what the Giants know of the ship. When was it first seen? Has it's behaviour always been the same? Can they shed any light on what is going on here or why it does the things that it does?”
The Yukki-Onna turned to her husband. “Well?” She asked although I felt that she was saying it for our benefit rather than the benefit of the giant himself.
The giant made a speech, rumbling deep in his chest.
The Yukki-Onna sighed. “He said that even if he knew, that he would not tell you. The Skeleton Ship is sacred to his people.”
“Sacred.” Helfdan said. “Really?”
I felt a weight threatening to crush me down. Any more information that we got from the giant would be useless and undependable. He had proven his ability to go against his wife's opinions and desires so even if she convinced him to give us what we wanted, it was more than likely that he would distort facts and change things in order to spite us. We had come here, men had died, including good friends of mine and we were going to leave here without success.
“Is that his hatred speaking?” Helfdan asked.
“Do you not hate him?” in return.
“Me? Not any more.” Helfdan shook his head. “I try not to hate wherever possible. Hating someone takes an enormous amount of energy and distorts reality around you. You see and hear things that are not there and take meanings from words that were never intended. A man cannot sail and hate at the same time. The sea does not care. But I do understand hatred and I have certainly felt it before now. The remnants of it still echo around my soul when I am not careful.”
He flicked his eyes towards Ciri when he said that. I found that I hoped that she did not notice.
Helfdan shook himself free of that. “There is much hatred between his people and mine though. We have seen it's evidence and I would not deny that there is possibly even reason for the hatred on both sides. But my friend wants to find his sister. Is that so wrong? If the ship is sacred, a God figure, then wouldn't he want to help the ship find what it seeks. Would he not want to see it released from whatever torment it is caught up in. I have seen the ship many times. You can feel the rage and the.... and the hatred coming off it like a wave, or a current. Surely there is....”
The giant rumbled.
“He refuses.” The Yukki-Onna told us. “He says that you will take that knowledge and use it as a weapon against his people. He will not aid you.”
“Helfdan.” I spoke up. “The first thing he said was that “Even if he knew the answer, he would not help us. Humanity and the Elves are not the only people that have lost great swathes of the past. And even if he is witholding the information from us now, and we force him to give it to us. It is untrustworthy. I am sorry.”
Helfdan looked at me for a while. “I do not accept that.” He said before turning back to the Yukki-Onna. “Here is what I can offer.” He said. “I am not negotiating with him now. I am negotiating with you.”
“Why?”
“You are the man's wife. He is my prisoner. He is not in a position to negotiate. I would go so far as to mention that he has been taken, fairly on the field of battle. There has been an exchange of blows though so in our culture, that would mean that he serves me and mine for the period of a year and a day as my thrall.”
“What would that mean?”
“Generally it is a kind of indentured servitude. Thralls generally fetch and carry, change linen and chamber pots and things. For myself, I feel that this practice is wasteful. I would give a thrall duties that would befit their talents and capabilities. When I take warriors and fighters then I give them weapons and give them duties while also making sure that they are not put in a position where they might have to fight friends or family. Artists are made to produce art and so on.”
“So it's slavery?” She did not seem to adverse to that prospect.
“If you prefer. However, thralls are not property. It is honour that keeps them in their position.”
“So they could, in theory, leave at any time.”
“Yes, although that dishonour would follow them for the rest of their lives.”
“Interesting. But you wish to negotiate.”
“I do. I am willing to forego this mark of honour in order to facilitate proceedings.”
“Interesting. Is that a great gift where you come from?”
“I would say so. He is a mighty warrior.” An interesting thing about hanging around Helfdan is that his tone speaks volumes. Or rather, his lack of tone. The way he says things without changing his tone gives them even more emphasis than they had before. “But that is my opening offer. What else can I do for you? What do you want?”
“What is your status with this Queen of yours?” She was regarding Helfdan keenly. “I ask, not to insult but to know where I stand.”
The giant rumbled something, he seemed to want to shake his head, and the Yukki-Onna spun on him. “Shut up.” She told him. “As this man said, the Grown ups are talking now. We have tried it your way and the way of your people and you were defeated by a better man. If I had known the quality of the men of Skellige before meeting you, then I would have married one of them instead. This man for instance. He could take you for a slave and at this moment I am inclined to give him to you.” She gestured at Helfdan.
The assembled men laughed at that with a collective kind of “Ooohhh” noise as though the Yukki-Onna had scored some kind of point. Skelligans, like a lot of people to be fair, do enjoy a good piece of public theatre.
Helfdan was frowning. “I would not enjoy being talked to in such a manner however.” The point having completely gone over his head.
“Sometimes my husband needs putting in his place.” The Yukki-Onna. “His culture is somewhat more fast and brutal than mine and there is not time, or space for subtlety.”
“I see,” Helfdan nodded. “I am a Ship's Captain in the Queen's fleet. I am not often called on for advice in anything other than naval matters but in those things I am considered an authority. When my Lord Hjallmar or the Queen do ask my advice then they tend to follow my recommendation. I rule a relatively remote and small fishing village on the South Eastern Shore of Ard Skellig...”
“The names mean nothing to me.”
“The big island to the North East of here.”
“I see.”
“...and I may say that raiders and bandits go elsewhere in search of easier prey rather than to come to my territory. If the Queen asked me to raise an army from my village. As well as my ship's crew I could raise fifty to sixty hardened warriors depending on sickness and injury with another forty or so men and women who know enough about their weapons to be dangerous opponents.”
“There are women in your ranks? Your women fight?”
“It's hard to stop them.” Svein called.
“The Captain of my House and personal guard on land is a woman.” Helfdan told her, ignoring Svein's joke and the laughter that it had raised. “She rules and administers the village and lands in my stead, keeping it free of bandits, raiders and those monsters that she can handle.”
“But there are no women in your sailors. Other than the white haired one that you so carefully do not look at.”
“The Swallow is a special case. She is a passenger. There is a superstition on the continent that women are unlucky on board ship.”
“Are they?”
“There is evidence in either direction. However, close confines with fit and healthy members of the opposite sex can lead to problems in a that close knit unit, which is what a ship's crew needs to be. Also, just because I might not believe in the superstition, does not mean that the men who follow my orders do not believe in the superstition.”
“A fair and valid point.”
“So what do you want?” Helfdan asked again.
“I want peace.” She responded. “As well as the ice Giants, there are the Ice trolls, the ice hounds, The Yeti, The Barbegazi, The Ijiraq, The Chenoo and others that live in the icy, snowy parts of the island that your people cannot reach. All of these creatures are refugees in your world and I would see to their safety if it is in our abilities to provide that safety. Our abilities, you and I.”
“I cannot offer safety or territory without the Queen's consent. I can say that our people require everyone to contribute to society so if those people or creatures that you mention can do things that would be useful to the greater whole, then my Queen, and my people, will consider it fairly. As for non-humans. I will admit that people in general, struggle to trust non-humans and monsters. This man,” he gestured at Kerrass, “was created to kill monsters.”
“Created? Not born?”
“There is some argument on the subject.” Kerrass stepped forward. “I was born human but made a Witcher by men who did not know better and wanted to pass their responsibilities onto others.”
“I see, and you kill monsters?”
“I do. I am like a Craftsman. People pay me to do so and I charge according to the risk and skill required for the hunt.”
“How do you define monster?” She asked. I thought that there was just the hint of an edge in her voice. “I have been called monster in the past. As have my daughters and sisters.”
“I get to make my own definition of monster.” Kerrass told her. “If a creature is a danger to life and cannot be reasoned with. Then they are a monster. A good example is actually a troll. Some trolls can reason and can be part of society. They tend bridges and are often employed as stone masons and guards. Other trolls are rabid and will attack on sight wanting only to eat the flesh of it's victims. One is a monster that I would take money to kill. The other is not.”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I see. That itself is interesting information and very valuable knowledge.”
“Enough as trade for the information that we need?” Kerrass smiled as he said it. “I have only met the missing lady briefly but my friends are important to me.” He gestured at Ciri and myself.
“Perhaps.” The Yukki-Onna answered. “It certainly pushes things in your favour.” She turned back to Helfdan. “I want peace.” She told him. “I accept that you cannot give me guarantees. But will you act as an advocate. Will you argue for peace?”
“I will. With all my heart. What do you want. My Queen will want specifics?”
“A warrior who fights for peace. I did not think that they exist in this world.”
“You may be surprised. What do you want? More specifics please.”
“Ultimately? Trade. Some kind of guarantee that we will not be killed or burned in our sleep. Freedom. Territory as there will be places that we can live that your people cannot. Eventually, I would be willing to swear oaths to be part of your feudal system in the long run. After I have satisfied myself that you and your people are honourable in that regard. Trust will take time to build after all.”
“Yes it will. On both sides.”
The giant was struggling and yelling.
“Be quiet.” The Yukki-Onna told him. “Your way of struggle and determination of precedence has cost you lives and led to your people's all but extinction. We are doing it my way now.”
Helfdan waited for a few moments for the conflict of wills between the giant and his.... surprisingly diminutive wife. That being said, if I was a betting man, which I'm not, but if I was. I would bet on the lady.
“I will take all of that to Queen Cerys on the condition that information is forthcoming and on the added understanding that I must complete my mission before I can do so. My word is my bond and I promised him, before I promised you.” He gestured at me.
“I understand. That is acceptable. Done then.”
“Hang on.” Helfdan turned to look at Svein, who nodded. Then he looked at Ursa who shrugged. Then he looked at Ciri. Who took some time to realise that she was being consulted on the matter. For a moment, astonishment warred with another emotion that I did not recognise on her face. Then she combined the two previous gestures. She shrugged, then nodded.
“Done.” Helfdan said with a small bow. “Traditionally, such things would be sealed with a handshake.”
“Or a drink.” Someone muttered to some giggling. I have no idea who it was but I suspected Kar.
“But would I survive the experience?” Helfdan asked without reacting.
“Best not to test it.” The Yuki-Onna said.
Helfdan gestured and Svein stood back from the giant who rose to his feet. Normally, when you imagine someone glaring their hatred at you, you imagine heat, you picture flames licking at your skin and boiling your flesh from your bones. But his glare was like ice. He moved to stand behind the five women. The remaining trolls and Hounds lost their confusion and moved to stand behind him. Pushing past the remaining men of the Wave-Serpent and formed up behind the giant. They were swinging their clubs aggressively and I felt the first fears. All those words to be wasted.
“Now, husband,” The Yuki-Onna said. “You will tell the men what they want to know.”
I swear he grinned. “No.” His words were drawn out. Longer and hissed. I noticed that now we could understand him. “These, men will die.”
The Yukki-Onna spun on him. “I gave my word.” She hissed at him.
“I did not.” He growled at her. “I will not aid upstarts that usurp what is rightfully mine.” His voice like the echoes of the deepest caves in the earth. A thing felt in the chest rather than the ear.
Helfdan laughed. He is a lot like Kerrass in many ways. His laughter is a thing of occasional chuckles and smirks. But this was the first time that I had properly heard him laugh.
“See, Lady.” He called as the Shield wall formed around him. “I negotiated in good faith. I was willing to reach out and begin the first steps towards peace. And now you spit on them. How can we trust you after this. How can we negotiate when your own factions will go against what has been agreed? I do not doubt that you negotiated in good faith. But just so we're clear....” He had to wait for the clatter of shields around him to quiet. “.... In my society. A husband who breaks his wife's word like that, would be set aside.”
“KILL THEM.” The giant roared.
“You can't.” The “mother” figure screamed. “I gave my word.” But she was drowned out.
“Right lads.” Svein yelled as the shield wall formed. I was in the middle, jamming my spear through one of the gaps, Kerrass on one flank where his mobility wouldn't be impaired by the press of men and shields and Ciri on the other. “Nothing fancy. Just, stay together and make the bastard's pay for it. Perrin?”
“Yeah?”
“Make me a happy man and tell me you have some arrows left.”
“Not a one. Used them all up against the Harpies.”
“Ah well. Witcher?”
“What is it?” Kerrass was drinking another yet another potion. This battle now held his personal record for the most potions that I had ever seen him use at one time and in one place. He was going to pay for this later. Presuming we survived of course.
“I will be forever grateful if you could kill that bastard of an ice giant for me.”
Kerrass didn't bother answering that. I think we were all thinking it in one way or another.
The other side was delaying itself. The trolls were waving their clubs around over their heads and roaring at us. The hounds seethed and howled, peeking between the shields I thought I could see the Yukki-Onna leader yelling at the giant who was ignoring her.
“What, in the name of all that's fucking cold, are you doing here?” Kar's voice I thought. Caught between his standard amusement at the world, amazement and fascination. A certain amount of bitter sadness too I thought.
“Damned.... If I..... am going..... to die..... lying..... on my back.” I turned to look. The words had been interspersed with wheezes. Sigurd stood there. He had an axe in his remaining left hand and he looked like death. He was pale and sweating, huge black circles under his eyes and he spoke through gritted teeth that were clenched against the pain. “I stand...... with my..... Ship-mates.” Through an extraordinary effort he lifted the axe so that it rested on his shoulder. He was literally swaying with the effort of remaining upright.
I don't think I was the only one who wiped tears from my eyes. Sometimes the Skelligan method of allowing yourself to show your emotions has it's merits.
“Ready.” Svein called before taking a deep breath “WE ARE THE CREW OF THE WAVE-SERPENT.”
“ROOS.” We roared it back at him.
“WE ARE THE WARRIORS OF THE BLACK BOAR.”
“ROOS.” It was a tired roar. Sullen and filled with a cold rage.
“WE ARE THE STRONGEST.”
“ROOS.” It was the rage of men that had been betrayed.
“THE MOST DARING.”
“ROOS.” Shields and weapons were clashing, just as they had before we landed on the beach that morning.
“AND THE MOST FUCKING TERRIFYING RAIDERS THAT SAIL THE SEAS.”
“ROOS.”
“AND IF TODAY SHOULD BE OUR DAY” Helfdan called, taking over from Svein “Then at least we die with HONOUR.”
“ROOS.”
“WITH COURAGE.”
“ROOS.”
“WITH BLADES IN OUR HANDS.”
“ROOS.”
“and friends at our sides.” Helfdan clapped me on the shoulder before meeting Ciri's gaze and nodding.
“ROOS.”
“Roos.” I said, quietly. I sent one last.... well.... prayer to Ariadne. But she was still unreachable.
I closed my eyes and sent my love and my thoughts into the thing that bound the two of us together. I tried to make her feel it in some way but I have no idea if it reached her.
The men were chanting as I did this. What had been a battle cry in order to galvanise the sailors into a mindset for battle earlier that day had become a prayer. A grim prayer of death and a promise. A promise to whoever might have been listening to sell themselves as dearly as possible.
Then a woman screamed. It was high pitched and drawn out. I would have called it a battle cry but that doesn't feel quite right.
“What the fuck is going on?” Kar again. He said it almost quietly which was when I learned that the other men had stopped their chanting.
Two Yukki-Onna had moved to stand in front of us. I had not seen them move so it must have happened quickly. One was one of the warriors. The other was the daughter figure. The two of them bowed to our defensive formation before turning and facing the threatening onrush of Ice Trolls and Hounds and the rest. The warrior produced a long curved.... stick from the bag at her waist and then seemed to use one of the ends for a handle to draw a sword. She pushed the scabbard into her belt and held the sword aloft in a stance similar to, but not quite the same as, the High stance of Continental sword fighting.
The daughter. I had no idea how old she was, had drawn the knife from her belt and held it and her fan as though they were weapons.
“ARTHOSIAD.” She yelled out. “ARTHOSIAD.”
“What's she saying?” Someone asked.
“Freddie?” Helfdan beckoned me over.
“I don't know, it's elder speech but her accent is rather extreme and I don't recognise it. Arthosiad....errr.... stop I think. Maybe Wait? Stay?”
“She yelling at the dogs?” Kar wondered.
The trolls didn't know what to do and if they were under the mental influence of the Giant then maybe their confusion mirrored her father, the giant's own confusion. They were looking back at the giant, exchanging glances with each other and shrugging to an almost comical degree. I felt my own anger at the giant grow.
My latest essay on trolls have described them as essentially simple, gentle folk who mostly just want to be left alone. Simple does not mean stupid however. In some cases, yes, but not in all. I was angry now at the thing that took advantage of their nature.
The Daughter spoke again in a loud clear voice. “Ni fyddaf yn rhan o'r anonestrwydd hwn. Rydych chi'n lladd ybobl hyn dros fy nghorff marw.”
“What's she saying?”
“Hold on....”
“Freddie, what's happening?”
“It's an extremely old dialect of ancient Elven. Not one that comes up often in my, or anyone's circles and her accent's appalling. She's angry. Furious even. She's refusing to be part of her father's dishonour I think. She is offering to stand and die with us in order to prevent her father's loss of honour.”
The Daughter. The girl, I suppose turned back to us and spoke clearly and a little slower, as though she was aware of her accent and trying to make it easier for us. “Rwy'n cynnig fy hun fel gwystl, ac I selio cynghrair.”
“Freddie?”
“Hold on.... She's trying to avert violence. She's offering herself as a hostage I think.”
Helfdan sucked his teeth in thought before shaking his head. “I will not hide behind a hostage.” There was some rumbling of agreement from the men. “Continental folk might use that sort of thing, but I won't.” He took a deep breath. “THANK YOU FOR YOUR EFFORTS.” He called out to her. “BUT THERE IS NO NEED FOR YOU TO DIE HERE TODAY. I WOULD NEVER KILL YOU FOR THE ACTIONS OF YOUR FATHER.”
The girl turned to us, face blanketed in confusion.
“Translate for me Freddie.”
“Ok.... ummm.... Diolch..... errr..... Diolch yn fawr iawn.” I called out. “Ni fyddembyth un eich lladd am weithredoedd eich teulu.”
“Pam hynny?”
“Errrr. Byddai hynny yn erbyn ein synnwyr anrhydedd ein hunain.” I felt my confidence returning.
“What was that exchange?” Helfdan asked. “She looked like she was asking a question.”
“She was asking why we wouldn't kill her.” I told him. “I told her that it was a matter of honour for us as well.”
“I see.”
The girls face bloomed into a smile and I gasped. Her beauty was extraordinary. It was like the sun on the snowy mountainside in the depths of winter. Then she turned back to her parents who had moved to the front of the group. The giant and the Snow Queen.
“Mae gan y dyn hwn y tan ynddo.” The girl called to her parents while gesturing back at us. The effect of her words could not have been more profound if she had fired a catapult full of burning oil at them. The mother seemed delighted and she spun on her husband with gestures and words although I could not catch them. The giant wailed. Holding his hands on either side of his head as though the words had caused him physical pain and that he could not believe his ears.
“What did she say?” Svein asked in amazement. I was still working it out though. The phrase had some kind of ceremonial, formal overtones that I did not quite recognise. It's not often that I have to act as a translator but when I do, there are words and gestures that you feel as though you need to get right. This was one of those times.
My mouth moved as I tried to work out the words.
“This man has the fire in him.” I said eventually. “I think. I mean it makes no sense but...” I shrugged.
“Which man?” Svein wanted to know.
“I dunno.” Ursa shrugged. “Who did she point at?”
The warrior that was clearly assigned as some bodyguard to the daughter put her blade away with a complicated twisting move that I could not follow before standing calmly. The giant stamped towards us, followed by his wife.
“Be ready lads.” Svein called.
“I don't think you need to worry.” Kerrass had moved into the formation.
“I agree, but in my experience, that is exactly when I need to worry.”
The giant loomed over his errant daughter who stood defiant.
Suddenly, Kerrass chuckled. “The Frost-Giant's daughter.” He said carefully.
“Do not do this.” The giant said in Elder speech to his daughter, I translated for the men. “I will find you a worthy husband for you. One who will treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”
“Who are you to decide how she deserves to be treated?” His wife wanted to know. She spoke in the common tongue for our benefit. “Also, stop being rude.”
The Snow-Queen took a step towards her daughter and held out her hand “Daughter, are you sure?”
“What's happening Freddie?” Helfdan wanted to know.
“I think there's some communication going on here that we do not understand.”
“Just the kind of answer I would get from an academic that doesn't know what they are talking about.” Kerrass teased me.
Mother and daughter stood together on the sand looking at each other, the mother, holding her daughter's hands.
“Bydd yn fy nghadw'n gynnes.” The Daughter told her mother. Again, with that air of formality.
“Freddie?”
“She said, “He will keep me warm”.” I told the formation.
There are some things that a man should not be party to. I saw one of them that day. We all did. Two people that were not human, from a world and a place of existence that was not our own, speaking on a level and in a language that we did not understand, shared a human moment. That moment being, a daughter telling her mother that she had fallen in love and that she was leaving home. I did not see the daughter's face. But I saw the mother's. Pride I think. Also love and acceptance. And an impossible depth of sorrow. All conveyed through the eyes as still, their expression's barely changed.
“But he is just a man.” The giant wailed, waving his arms in the air. Rage, pain and his own sorrow in his voice.
“And you were just a giant.” his wife spat at him. “And I loved you for that and despite that too.”
“He will not survive.” The giant growled at his daughter.
“Bydd yn sefyll yn gryf.” The daughter said.
“He will stand stand strong.” I translated.
“I'd like to know who he is.” Ursa grumbled.
“I think we're about to find out.” Helfdan told him.
“Introduce me then,” The mother said, gesturing towards the group. “Introduce me to my new son.”
The two women moved towards the shield wall. Neither of them had weapons drawn and they were holding hands. It reminded me of a wedding procession, because that was what it was really, the daughter's hand resting lightly on top of the mother's hand.
“What do we do?” Someone whispered.
“My Lord?” Svein later admitted that this was the sort of thing that was above his head. He desperately wanted to order the men to stay together and prevent the two women from breaching our line. But this was one of those times when such action might have been catastrophic.
The women had reached the shield line and waited.
Helfdan looked at them for a log time and the tableau was frozen. As well as the occasional desire for the talent of a poet, I sometimes wish that I had the talent of a painter. This was not the first historic moment that I have seen during my journeys. The coronation of an Empress being one of them. Nor was it the strangest, the coming of Crom Cruarch springs to mind. But there are few moments that I have wanted to record for prosperity.
In case you are wondering, the last shot of Daniel the archer. The sight of a young beautiful woman chewing a leg of lamb while petting a fluffy spider that was sat on her lap. The redemption of a Unicorn and the many many images of a Witcher on the edge of town. Standing tall on the hill with his two swords prominent against his back.
But this was another one. Two, beautiful, white skinned, blue lipped women in strange clothes with dark hair, waiting in front of a Skelligan shield wall to see what they would do.
There was the feeling of time and existence resting on the edge of a knife. On one side was disaster and on the other....
But Helfdan shrugged and put his sword away. Instead he pulled the two men, and therefore the two shields, in front of him apart. Then he stepped aside saying nothing.
The giant stood there with a look of confusion on his face. Occasionally he would pace a few steps before turning around and walking back in the other direction and again gazing back at his wife and, presumably, his daughter as they walked into the hated formations of his enemies. I have tried to feel sorry for that man on several occasions. But I did not manage it then and I have not managed it since.
One by one, the remaining men of the Wave-Serpent stood aside. The mother's eyes searched the face of each man curiously, presumably trying to guess which one of these men that her daughter had chosen. But her daughter's gaze never wavered.
So we parted to show where Sigurd lay. At some point during the delay, his strength had either failed him or he had decided to preserve what strength he had left and had sat down. It's the kind of pragmatic decision that is typical of Skelligans while seeming so utterly alien to those of us who come from the continent. I don't know, I never asked him, but then he had decided that while he was on the ground anyway, he might as well lie down.
He was not in a good way. If anything he looked paler. Not quite the white of the Yukki-Onna. The ladies skin seems to be based in blue as though the white was once blue but was now so pale as to be white. Sigurd looked grey. He was shivering as well as sweating enough that you could see the sweat running down his face.
The daughter looked down at the dying warrior. “Yr un hon.” She said as she pointed. “Mae gan yr un hwn y tan yn ei galon a fydd yn fy nghadw'n gynnes ar nosweithiau hir y gaeaf.”
The mother nodded and said, more for our benefit than for the daughter's I think. “Then you know what you must do.” The daughter nodded and walked off, looking around herself before she found a big enough mound of the snow that was falling again and moved towards it with a purpose in her step.
“What did she say?” Helfdan asked me.
“She said that “This one has the fire in his heart that will keep me warm on long winter nights”.” The girl's mother said. “It is the formal declaration of love by my people to our people. When one of us leaves to marry a mortal. Those are the words that she uses to declare her love for the mortal in question.” Then she smiled slightly. “Kindly forgive her. Your Elder speech that the giants speak is her eighth language and only the third that involves verbal communication. She will learn your language swiftly.”
“How many languages do you speak?” I asked reflexively.
“Three hundred and forty nine.”
I stared at her and my mouth fell open. “I have so many questions.” I groaned.
She laughed. She seemed to have adopted a less formal attitude towards us now and it was a change that I welcomed. “And I would be glad to answer them at a future date. But for now, my daughter is getting married.”
“Fair enough.”
“It will not be a long marriage.” Thorvald told her sadly. “Sigurd is dying.”
“No.” The mother said, a little proudly. “He is fighting. He will be a fine husband to my daughter presuming he passes the tests. There are many among you who would make fine husbands for my sisters and daughters. Are all men of your race of this kind of quality?”
Helfdan ignored the question. “What tests?”
“He must prove that he is strong enough.”
Helfdan shook his head. “He is badly wounded. Although once I would have said that Sigurd was amongst the strongest of my men, at the moment he could barely lift his axe.”
She smiled. “It is not that kind of strength that he will be tested on. It is more a physical representation of his strength of heart. I have confidence though. My daughter has chosen well.”
The men exchanged glances of confusion with each other. I saw that Ciri had turned away, her shoulders shaking in mirth.
“Just out of curiosity.” I began. “Which number language is ours out of the list that you have learned?”
“The most recent.”
“Fuck me,” Kar commented in a tone that carried a little too well. “She speaks better than what I do.”
“Much better,” Ursa commented to some general hilarity.
“So what is the test?” Helfdan wanted to know. “
“Concerned for your man?” The mother asked..
“Of course. What kind of a lord would I be if I were not?”
“A much more common one.” The mother answered. “Where we come from, some suggest that we are the ghosts of women that have died in the snow. That is not true as we are quite solid to the touch. Some call us tricksters and there is some truth to that. But what we really are...? We are testers. We test men, and occasionally women. If they pass our tests then they live. If they fail, then they die. We punish men who are wicked, men who are unfaithful to their wives, or betray their lords, friends or comrades. We appear to these men and seduce them, leading them out into the snow using their lusts to draw them on. All that they ever have to do to survive is to turn back to their wives, the loved ones or to their duty. But if their lust pulls them on then they freeze to death in the snow.”
I could almost feel Kerrass taking notes.
“But we also provide tests according to the stature of a person. If we are unsure as to the quality of a man then we might give them a test. We ask for warmth by a fire or a hot drink. If the person is kind and gives us these things then we find ways to reward them. In some cases, that reward is ourselves as wives and mothers to unborn children. It is our way of finding a mate. It is one of these tests that my daughter is preparing now.”
“I am unhappy with the prospect that this test might prove fatal for Sigurd.” Helfdan told her.
“It might. But love itself is risk is it not? He will be aware of the stakes in advance and if he declines then he was not worthy of my daughter anyway.”
“Why are you so certain that he will pass?” I asked.
“Because she is my daughter.” The mother answered. “And she has decided that she loves him.”
“Seems awfully quick to fall in love.”
“We are not tied to your courtship cycle. One of the things that my people have over yours is that we absolutely know our own hearts and we can see the quality of the people that we meet. I know that you are trustworthy and so my daughter knows that she can love this man.”
“Should he survive of course.”
“As you say.”
The daughter returned clutching a bundle in her arms. It took me a while to see what it was that she carried but when I did see it, it would be fair to say that I was astonished. It was a small, snow carving of a baby. Incredibly detailed and realistic, but for the fact that it wasn't moving and it was made out of snow. The young woman moved to Sigurd's side and knelt next to him.
He did not react, his eyes had closed and he seemed to be asleep. He was still alive though.
The daughter looked up at her mother with large, pleading eyes and the mother moved to stand next to her daughter.
During the following exchange, the daughter spoke in the strange, heavily accented, archaic version of Elder speech that she had been using before while the mother translated for Sigurd and the rest of us that were watching.
“Sigurd,” The daughter said softly. “Sigurd, wake up. It is safe.”
Sigurd's eyes snapped open and he winced in pain. His breathing wheezed audibly. His eyes went from one woman to the other. “The fuck is happening?” he said aloud to a bit of nervous laughter from his ship-mates. But the two women didn't react.
“Sigurd.” The daughter went on. “I have an offer for you. An offer and a test.”
“A test?”
“A test of strength.”
A slow tear spilled out of Sigurd's eyes. “I am a broken man lady. There are far stronger than I now. I could barely strand without losing my breath. I will never sail, or fight, or properly be able to serve my Lord again. There are better men to answer your offer and to pass your test. I am no longer strong enough.”
There were some general sounds of denial and encouragement from the men of the wave-Serpent. I can't speak for them but the despair in Sigurd's voice was palpable enough to bring a lump to my throat.
“Oh Sigurd. Oh my love.” The girl said gently. “Your strength will return. I promise. I will help you and there are more ways of service that you are capable of.”
“My love?” The confusion chased away the despair on Sigurd's face. “You called me your love?”
The girl nodded.
“But.... Who are you? I don't know you.”
“You do not. But I know you. It is the gift of my people to be able to read all but the closest and most private of hearts. I know your heart and I love you for it.”
“But....”
“Hush my love. But first, if we are to be together, we must ensure that you can survive. I am not human and my touch can kill.” Her voice gained an edge to it, until it became almost aggressive. “We must also prove your worth to my father who is watching. I need no proof but the traditions and rites of my people must be observed.”
Sigurd's face creased as he fought through another shudder of pain. “Lord?”
“I am here Sigurd.” Helfdan knelt on the other side of his fallen warrior.
“What is happening Lord?”
“I suspect it's politics Sigurd.” Helfdan answered. “But it would seem that the offer is genuine.”
“Politics Lord?”
“You don't have to call me Lord, Sigurd.”
“I know but I want to. And I might be about to die so it seems fitting. Lord.” There was a smile in his voice even if not in his face. “Will it help?”
“It might. Her father wants to kill us. She disagrees and is putting herself in a position to prevent that.”
Sigurd's face was stricken as he turned back to the young lady. “You don't have to.” He pleaded. “There are better than me and I would rather die than force you into a political marriage. I would not marry someone who was forced to it. I....”
“Sshhhhh.” The daughter smiled. “I called you “my love” and I meant it. I had already chosen you and if things here had gone better, I would have approached you in a more private way.” The smile turned into a grin. “After all. It's rather embarrassing to declare your love in front of your parents.”
There was much laughter at that. “Oh marry her Sigurd.” Became a common cry. “We like her.”
“You love me?” he asked.
“I do.
“And it will help you Lord?”
“It would seem so.”
Sigurd's face hardened. “Thorvald, Scibbler. I would stand on my own feet to face this challenge. I will not lie in the snow.”
The girl's face shone.
Having said that. Getting the Six foot something warrior who was made out of muscle to his feet was easier said than done. Couple this with the fact that he was reeling with the pain and the loss of balance that the removal of his arm had caused, meant that Thorvald and I had to almost hold him in place. All the while the Yukki-Onna looked on.
Then something extraordinary happened. Sigurd straightened, groaning with the effort he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as a massive shudder wracked his body. Then he stopped and his eyes opened. The look of the berzerker was in him now. A part of the quality of what Ragnvald had carried on the island of the bear. That surety and strength. He was still in pain. His breathing still laboured and the physical activity of climbing to his feet had opened a number of the smaller wounds that he had suffered that now leaked smaller amounts of blood.
He was a state, a wreck of a human being. But he stood tall and proud, towering over the diminutive ice maiden that stood before him with the sculpture of the baby in her arms. The other men of the Wave-Serpent stood that little bit taller out of respect. One or two of them stamped their feet, a couple more clashed weapons against the rims of their shields. There was a rhythm underneath what was happening. The same rhythm that had driven the Wave-Serpent onto the beach. The same rhythm that is in all of their tales and sagas. Men were praying and chanting, willing Sigurd to stand. Could he have done it without all of that? I think so. I think his pride would have meant that he could not fall before Helfdan or the young lady. But it would also be true to say that our best wishes helped.
I happened to see Ciri in the middle of all of that. She was stood off to one side, watching. I would be prepared to swear on the book of the Prophet that there were tears in her eyes. But she was too far away and the look was too brief for me to know that for sure.
“There are two tests.” The mother translated for her daughter. “You should know that both are deadly. Do you understand that this may cost you your life.” The mother laughed. “My daughter wants me to tell you that you are strong enough and that you will survive it but that these words are formal and must be uttered.”
True enough, the daughter had turned a look of feminine, daughterly annoyance at her mother before speaking too rapidly for me to catch it.
Sigurd didn't take his eyes off the girl. “I understand.” He said formally.
“Then the first task is simple. You must hold the baby without dropping it.”
A crack appeared in Sigurd's appearance. “But... I only have one arm now.” The acknowledgement of that seemed to shake him more than the prospect of the task. As though it was the first time he had had to register the lack of the arm on anything more than a surface acknowledgement.
“My daughter says to tell you that you will be fine. Just stand and crook your arm.”
The younger girl moved forward and carefully placed the ice sculpture of the baby in Sigurd's remaining arm, shifting Sigurd's arm around until he had the child properly supported.
“Now, carry the baby.” The mother said.
“So lifelike.” Sigurd breathed aloud. “But damn me, heavier than I thought.” Then he staggered. “Much heavier than I thought. Fuck me that's....” Then he was gasping for breath. He groaned and turned his head to spit something pink.
He staggered. Fell to one knee, panting desperately for breath. “I don't think I can...” He gasped. A wind was piling snow around his feet. There was no other snow falling or gathering, it was not colder or wetter, but Sigurd was sinking. He groaned again and turned his head to spit something that looked suspiciously like blood onto the snow.
“What happens if he fails?” Someone asked the mother.”
The daughter said something.
“My daughter says that he will not. But to answer your question, if he fails then he will drown in the snow at his feet.”
We watched as Sigurd struggled, his other knee giving out.
The crowd was moving, parting, I looked and Kerrass was next to me, not moving through the crowd. He was watching intently, his fascination writ clearly on his face. But then Ciri burst through the crowd.
“Do not touch him.” The mother called.
“Come on Sigurd.” Ciri told him sternly. “You can do this. You are the strongest man I know. You can do this. Fight. This is a fight. Come on Sigurd.” She turned on the rest of us. “By the Gods, will you not cheer on your champion?”
Svein was the first. We had all been frozen by the moment and Ciri's actions shook us from that daze. Svein was first and he clashed his axe against his shield. Of all people, Kunnr was next. He had both axes in his hands and clashed them together. He had not stopped weeping since the giant had fallen but now he bellowed along with the rest of us.
Even Kerrass, the stoic, silent watcher of men from the sidelines of fate and society, bellowed his own encouragement at the huge warrior and I hammered the but of my spear onto the beech and howled along with the rest of them. The madness of the moment was contagious. We were not fighting for our survival now. We were just forcing this man, through sheer willpower and the power of our voices, into standing tall.
The only man who didn't scream and shout was Helfdan. He watched the rest of his men bellow for a moment before he nodded to himself and stepped forward.
I couldn't hear what he said to Sigurd over the din but he bent down so that he could stare into Sigurd's face. Then he said something. Something short and to the point. It might have been an order.
Helfdan stood up and moved back.
Sigurd roared. I had never heard anything like it. First he got one foot underneath him. Then he roared again. Bellowing his pain and his fear into the sky as he forced himself back to his feet. The snow around his feet was gathering now, climbing quickly past his knees and reaching his waist. Ciri and Helfdan were forced backwards.
Sigurd howled something. There were words in that howl although I couldn't hear them. But he howled as the snow got to his waist and he realised that he was being buried alive. There was magic here. I knew that because I could see Kerrass' amulet dancing around on the end of it's chain. The snow reached where Sigurd was holding the baby. Sigurd was trying to free himself from the snow now. You could see his shoulder moving from where an arm had once hung, you could see his legs trying to move and failing, trying to escape the snow.
But he wasn't going to make it. No matter how much we howled, he was trapped and now the snow was climbing up to where the baby was.
I do not know how he managed it. I will never know how he did it. He roared again and he lifted the baby, holding it above the climbing snow. I have lifted babies before. It's one of those lesser known things that I don't talk about too often as those hunts where Kerrass just goes out to hunt a creature leaving me with the family of the people that have hired him. I would often find myself helping look after the children, being the calm and collected grown-up in the area while the parents panicked. So I have a bit of experience in these matters. Lifting a child takes two hands.
Sigurd did it with one. Lifting the baby above the rapidly rising snow.
Then the snow vanished and Sigurd fell to the ground with a crash.
“Gods,” Thorvald cried as the rest of the men fell silent.
I could not have told you who was at Sigurd's side first. Thorvald or myself to help with his wounds, new and old, or the young Yukki-Onna who knelt next to him.
“So heavy.” Sigurd moaned. “So heavy.
The mother stood nearby. “It is meant to be.”
“So heavy.” Sigurd groaned. He forced his eyes open. “Did I succeed?”
“Yes my love. Yes, you did.” Even though the words were being translated. The pride on the girl's face was palpable.
“I don't think I can....” Sigurd sobbed. “I can't....”
“It's ok my love, the next test is much simpler.”
“What?....” He wheezed. “What is the next test?”
“She must kiss you.” The mother said.
“Wait... what? And that might be....”
“Deadly, yes.”
“Ok but....”
Then the daughter kissed him. She just leant forward and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss really, closed lips, nothing more than a gentle brushing of lips against each other. It was over just as quickly as it began as the girl leant back a little, a slight smile on her face.
“No.” Sigurd said. It was little more than a whisper. “No you know what? If I'm going to die as the result of a kiss then...I'm going to kiss you properly.” Then he moved.
When you come down to it. Warriors live or die by just how quickly they can move and Sigurd was still one of the greatest warriors that I have ever seen.
And he moved really fucking fast.
His remaining hand came round, cupping the girl around the back of the head and they kissed again. This kiss was hard, passionate, mouths opened, I thought that tongues wrestled and teeth clashed before she managed to push him away and he fell back. Both because Thorvald and I got to him to restrain him before he hurt himself and the girl staggering backwards, a look of shock, fear and a touch of horror on her face.
Her clothes were rumpled and her hair in disarray.
“Sorry.” Sigurd groaned in a mirror to the expression on his face. “I'm sorry, I didn't meant to.... I just didn't want to....I didn't mean to.... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” He wailed the last. “Please don't hate me.”
With quick hands, the girl straightened her robes and tucked her hair back into place before lifting her eyes back to Sigurd's face. Slowly, so slowly, the look of fear and horror was replaced by the look of hunger and excitement. Her mouth curling into a smile that had just the hint of a wicked sense of humour.
Then she said something that her mother chose not to translate.
“O mam ie.” She said. “Rwy'n cadw'r un hon.”
I laughed. I couldn't help it. So did Ciri I noticed.
“What did she say?” Sigurd asked me. He looked afraid. I leant forward and whispered in his ear. “She said, “Oh mother yes. I'm keeping this one”.”
“I shouldn't have done that.” He said.
“I agree.” Thorvald said. “You have broken ribs and you could just as easily hurt yourself as anything. You could have died doing that.”
“I shouldn't have forced that...”
“She was shocked and surprised.” I told him while I helped Thorvald check him for more injuries or if he had hurt himself. “You caught her off guard as much as anything. She seems to come from a much more stoic and reserved people than yours. But she didn't seem to mind too much.”
“I am unused to such passion.” The girl told him through her mother as she moved closer to the stricken warrior. “It was shocking, frightening at first and I am not entirely comfortable with it.” Then she smiled again. “Yet. I could grow to like it and am already looking forward to trying a little more of that, in private next time though?”
Sigurd nodded easily.
“It will take time, but we have that time.” She said, shuffling closer, still on her knees.
“What did she say?” Sigurd asked me and I translated for him.
“You might have time.” Thorvald said softly. “If you stay still and don't do anything to hurt yourself any further. In short. If you do what I tell you and lie still.”
“You should do what your surgeon tells you.” The girl said and I translated. “That way, we can celebrate our wedding night.”
Sigurd looked up at her, he had been sobbing at the thought that he might have hurt her. “I'm sorry.” He said again. “I will be more gentle.”
She smiled gently and gently wiped a couple of his tears away with her sleeve while her smile turning into a kind of dirty grin. “Maybe, given your physical state, I will need to be gentle with you.” Then she turned to me. “Translate that.”
I did. I would not have done that otherwise as that seemed a little personal.
Then she looked back to him.
“I have to go do something now.” She told him through me before she leant down and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.” She told him. I didn't need to translate that. It was heavily accented and we had to struggle to understand her. But her meaning came through.
Then she stood and turned to face her father with a look of steel that would not have been out of place on her new husband/betrothed's face.
“Now, father” she said in a voice of ice. “Let us discuss the matter of my dowry.”
Her mother smiled with pride as she translated and the men of the Wave-Serpent roared in their approval.