(A/N: Those people that might know where the Yukki-Onna comes from, might consider some of the things that Freddie says as racist. He says and does these things out of confusion and ignorance. So I apologise on his behalf.)

It took us a long time to get off the beach of the Ice Giants.

For a start, the dead needed to be burned according to Skelligan traditions. Aided by, of all people, the trolls, massive chunks of lumber was brought down from above the cliffs by virtue of the trolls climbing the cliffs and simply uprooting the trees and tossing them down onto the sand below. Whereupon the axes of the Wave-Serpent chopped them into firewood and made pyres out of them.

Helfdan, being Helfdan, offered the leader of the trolls....

I say leader, he was more the one who could speak the most continental language and therefore was the troll that could talk to us the most.

… That his fallen should join the fallen of the Wave-Serpent on the fire. The troll had been astonished, and a little flattered I hope, but had turned the offer down on the grounds that his particular group of trolls share the belief of the Elves that once a person is dead, it does not matter what is done with the body. But the funeral rites were actually quite touching. The Trolls came and saluted and roared and stamped their feet in respect for their fallen enemies while the men chanted and prayed. Drink was found and was drunk accordingly and Helfdan and the leader of the trolls told each other that although the future might make them enemies again, that for now they would part as friends.

A number of other ice giants arrived to watch the proceedings as well which was when we also met our first female giant. It was not true, as I had first begun to suspect, that the Yukki-Onna were actually the female gender of the Ice Giant race. There were other female giants and they came out of their caves to mourn their fallen, same as the trolls. There was a larger problem here as centuries of hatred and fear have ears that do not hear.

There were two things that prevented another outbreak of violence between the giants and the remaining men of the wave-Serpent. The first was that the giants were just as angry at their King as Helfdan had been, which was when we started to see a little of their culture coming through. It seems that the title of “King” of the Ice giants is awarded by consensus. The “King” is the person whose knowledge, experience and skills are what is needed at that time. When it is proven that he has either outlived his usefulness, or the circumstances have moved past the place where he would be useful, then the crown is removed from his head. By force if necessary.

We didn't get to hear much of it and what we did get was passed through the filter of translators who weren't really listening, but it would seem that the “King” that we had fought had been chosen by the giants after the most recent conjunction. This was because he had attracted a wife from the new creatures that had come to the island through the rifts. Therefore, the giants had decided that in this new and changing world where relations with these new creatures would be important, the giant that had already formed a relationship along these lines was considered one of the best candidates for the position.

What they hadn't expected was that this giant would then have to fight off, or negotiate with one of the two ancient enemies.

The humans and the Vodyanoi in case you are wondering.

As an aside. The Skelligans refer to the Vodyanoi as “The Fomor” or “The Fomori”. They seem to use these two terms interchangeably so I apologise if that is confusing. I don't know if one of them is the singular and the other is referring to the plural of the thing or what. And I didn't ask I'm afraid. I had other things on my mind.

So now that there were the first overtures of peace being made between the collection of “Ice creatures” and the humans, the Ice giants decided that they needed a new King. They hadn't found one that would be suitable yet and were still arguing on the matter. The fact that the old King had lost his battle against the hated humans and potentially driven a wedge between the giants and the other creatures of ice in the process was also something that had not been received with too much good cheer.

So the giants were arguing with each other, an argument fuelled by the fact that there were no male candidates that were able to maintain the relationships between the new comers and the giants, while also having an open enough mind about potentially pursuing peace with the humans.

The Yukki-Onna had added fuel to the fires of debate by suggesting that maybe it was time to consider offering the crown to a female giant. After all, it had worked for the humans. The comment had not helped as much as the Yukki-Onna had thought it would though.

The other reason that there was no outbreak of violence was because of the presence of the Yukki-Onna. The daughter figure never left Sigurd's side and he was lying in his blankets close to the fire as he passed in and out of consciousness. She fed him and brought water when it was needed but otherwise, her eyes were glued to his face. It was odd and kind of sweet, as she seemed to think that they were already married. But on those occasions when Sigurd woke, he wanted to talk about planning their wedding. She would laugh and agree with him before pushing him back down and getting him to go back to sleep.

Although she was learning our language with astonishing speed, her voice was still heavily accented. Despite this the two had seemed to find a way with which they could communicate properly using a combination of sign language, body language and comically exaggerated facial expression. All the while, the girl's bodyguard stood over the pair of them, looking out over everything impassively, her hand resting on the weapon that was tucked into her belt.

I was astonished to find out that the young lady in question was only three years old.

Yeah, just let that roll around in your head for a minute. I found this out when talking to the girl's mother who told us that she, in turn, was six hundred and forty three of our years old. The emphasis on “our” was entirely hers. Then she did a thing that seemed to be a common saying among her people which was to tut, lift their eyes to the heavens before sighing, shaking their heads and muttering “humans” under their breath.

She told me that her people are affected by time in different ways. A male born of a Yukki-Onna is of the race of the father while the female offspring is another Yukki-Onna. The daughter is born with a lot of the knowledge of how their race and society works but are lacking in their own experiences which is why she didn't know all the languages that her mother knew. But she did know her marriage traditions and the traditions of love among her people.

As we would perceive it, the girl was of marriageable age but she had reached that appearance by the age of two and had, in fact, been looking for a worthwhile husband since that time, having found no-one suitable amongst her father's warriors or any of the other people that had come into the world. She had long been curious about the humans that sailed on the horizon but had been forbidden from going to search among them for a husband by her father's hatred.

The other thing was odd that I, in particular as a chronicler, was struggling with was the fact that they really did not have names. Or rather, they chose a name according to who that marriage was with. The girl, as soon as she had finished learning the language of the Skelligans to her satisfaction, would choose a name with Sigurd's input. When Sigurd eventually died to illness, injury or old age, that name would be set aside until she would marry again.

In all innocence, I asked the mother what her name was given that she was married to a giant and she laughed at me. A thing that she did more and more often now that she was becoming more comfortable with me and the situation was becoming less formal.

“Remember that giants don't communicate with only their mouths.” She told me. “So my name is actually part colour, part a psychic communication and part noise.”

“What is the noise?” I asked.

She whistled. A long noise that started at a high pitch before descending in a bow and lifting at the end.

“Oh.” I said and she laughed at me again. She had relaxed a lot more since our opening greetings. She seemed to regard us all as some kind of family now that her daughter had chosen one of us for her mate. If I had been more awake, less terrified about the passage of time or generally less mentally drained by everything then there would have been more questions that I could have asked and had answered for me.

The musician walked freely among the men of the Wave-Serpent. It turns out that she was an entertainer and had lost her most recent husband relatively recently although not during the battle.

I checked.

As such, she did not feel the need to get married again just yet and was less influenced by the presence of “so many beautifully warm men” around herself. That was a direct quote. She walked around and when Helfdan asked her for a performance from the instrument that was slung on her back, she agreed before warning everyone that the sounds would be unusual to us and that we might struggle to understand or enjoy it.

I watched, along with everyone else as she sat near the fire that marked the funeral pyre of the dead, with her large instrument across her knees. The way she seemed to play it was like a large lute. If you played the lute across your knees rather than against your chest or belly. The strings were plucked or strummed horizontally and she controlled the pitch of the instrument by moving her fingers up and down the strings in the same way that you would a lute.

The individual strings produced a sound that I found remarkably pure and resonant before the sound seemed to die. But the order in which she seemed to play the strings, let alone when she strummed at a group of strings at a time, was atonal and unpleasant to me. It was made even worse when she started to sing.

I call it singing but it was more like an odd, shrill kind of shrieking. I could only stand it for so long before I had to move away and I was not alone. When asked for my honest opinion later by the mother. I told her that if the music was just a series of individual notes played slowly and softly in a quiet place, either amongst trees or next to a river then I could see how the sound would be pleasant and simple. How it could aid thoughtfulness and relaxation.

But the more complex the sound became, the less enjoyable it was.

She looked at me strangely. “Interesting” she said.

The only person that liked it all was Helfdan. Because of course it was Helfdan. He loved it declaring that it was “a fascinating marvel of mathematics.” I could do little other than look at him strangely after he made that declaration.

The rest of the Yukki-Onna, as more had shown up in the meantime, stood in a line between the giants and ourselves. Made up of what I took to be the Warrior caste of the Yukki-Onna, they stood in their armour with their strange curved blades in their wooden scabbards at their belts. Some faced towards the humans and some faced towards the giants in a way of protecting one side from the other.

I hated the entire process. I wanted to leave. I knew why we couldn't. I knew that it was getting dark and cold and that we needed the fire and the hot food and we needed to pay our respects. But I wanted to go. I wanted to be doing things and working at things. I wanted to be moving. And I was hating myself for that a little bit.

The Wave-Serpent herself was all but undamaged. The wood was too thick and old to have been too damaged by the axe-blows of the retreating men and it had been too cold and damp for the thrown torches to have caught fire. Helfdan's assessment was that the beams that had taken the axe-blows would need to be sanded down when the ship had returned to port and then they would possibly need replacing but other than that, they were good to go.

“You knew that they were going to betray us didn't you?” I accused.

“Who was?” He asked, apparently openly curious.

“Lord Finnvald and the rest.”

He stared at me for a long time. “Yes.” He said after a while.

“Then.... why?.... What?....If?....”

Helfdan watched as my mind tried to unravel itself before he decided that I had asked all the questions that I was going to ask, that it was pointless to wait any further for me to decide what I wanted to do and simply walked off while my brain was still trying to process that revelation.

I tried again later. He was sat by the fire talking with the Yukki-Onna. I think that they were doing something vastly more important than what I wanted to ask, something to do with alliances as well as visiting rights when she wanted to come and visit her daughter as well as any potential future grandchildren.

“But if you knew that he was going to betray us. Then why did you....?”

Again, he seemed to wait patiently for my brain to catch up. He was staring at a point just over my shoulder as he waited for me to finish my thought.

It took me a little time to realise that he wasn't going to help me any. That he really was going to sit there and wait for me to give him a real question before he answered it.

“Why did you let him come with us?” I finally managed to ask.

“Ah.” It was a small sound of satisfaction that came out of his mouth. As though he had been waiting and expecting a little too long for things to happen for his own comfort. Then he turned and looked into the fire as he ordered his thoughts.

“Yes,” The Yukki-Onna commented. “I will admit to some curiosity on my own part as well. Your men fought valiantly and your, up until that point, allies also fought well and bravely. Theirs was not an abject fleeing from the field of battle but an orderly planned and timed withdrawal. They knew that they were going to do that. They knew that they were going to betray you. If you knew that too, then why did you take them along?”

Helfdan ignored her, still looking into the flames.

“Is it the kind of thing that would happen in your previous world?” I asked the woman.

“Yes and no. Such a matter would be considered, but if there was even the hint that one party would betray the other then they would not have travelled together. Let alone coordinate their strategy and tactics. If a man had withdrawn from battle that was not yet decided then he would be in disgrace. Especially if his side had gone onto win, proving that his withdrawal was a matter of cowardice or political motivation, then the man's lord would be demanding his head. The penalties for dishonour and cowardice are rather strong where I come from.”

“I see.”

We both turned to watch Helfdan who had stared into the fire for a while longer while he considered the question. “Who would claim to be that which they were not?” He asked us both.

“Anyone.” I told him after a moment of wondering if he had gone mad.

“Those who's wish is to deceive.” The Yukki-Onna suggested.

“Not true.” Helfdan responded, still looking into the fire. “although the answer about deception is closer than the Scribbler's answer.”

There is a certain school of thought that says that when you are telling someone that they are wrong, you are supposed to soften the blow in some way. To tell them how close they are to being right so that they can correct their mistakes in future times and so that they don't feel quite as bad as they would have done otherwise. It would seem that this sentiment simply didn't occur to Helfdan. Either that or he simply didn't care about it. It was jarring to me. Like so much of the other things about life with Lord Helfdan.

“The answer to the question of “Who would claim to be that which they were not,” is not quite so simple.”He sounded like every philosophy professor, who's lectures I had attended in an effort to convince girls that I was actually more intelligent and witty than I was.

“To be able to claim that they are something other than what they are, they must put some work into it. They must find out what deception is going to work on the target of their deception. They must know things. Finnvald needed to get that information from somewhere. He needed to know where I was. He needed to know what I was doing and where I was going. He also needed to know what combination of words he would have to use in order to compel me to trust him.”

“What words were those?” The woman asked.

“Do you not remember Scribbler? He told me that the Queen had sent him.”

“I remember. You commented that you didn't think that he was a royalist.”

“Which he isn't. Just as he knows that I am devoted to the Queen and her rule. And as I know that he leans more towards the traditionalist values. Starting with the facts that the Skelligan isles should be ruled by a King rather than a Queen. He was not incorrect in saying that his Jarl is a royalist either.”

“The best lies and deceptions are often built upon a basis of truth.” The woman nodded agreement.

“As you say.” Helfdan flicked his gaze towards her. “So he was sent. This seems certain. He told me that the Queen had sent him because he knew that my own honour would trap me into accepting his help.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I am known to be a Queen's man. If I decline the Queen's help then I am dishonouring the Queen as I am saying that I do not need her help. Which was true. But also that I do not want her help. Which is not true, any help that the Queen can give me would be more than welcome. But also, I might be saying that I do not trust the Queen's help. Which would be the part where I was insulting her.

“I would hope that the Queen herself would know that I would never do that and that my devotion to her and her cause is absolute. But I am known to be a Queen's man and....”

“If you decline her help,” The woman interrupted. “Or infer that she cannot be trusted then other people will consider whether you know something that they don't. Why would you, a Queen's man, turn down and insult the Queen? It must be something important or horrifying to make you do that.”

Helfdan flinched at the interruption. I had also realised that point but travelling with Helfdan for a while had made it clear how he would react and I didn't want to upset him. The woman hadn't learned this it would seem. It's petty but this failure on her part made me feel a little better.

“That is correct. He was right in thinking that if he invoked the Queen's name then I would be compelled to allow him to come along on the attack against the Ice giants. There was also more than a small possibility that the offer of aid was genuine and that he really was going to help. I couldn't discount that possibility either but I knew that the balance of things was going to be that he would betray us at some point.”

“Why?” The lady asked.

“Why did I know that he was going to betray me or why could I not discount the possibility?”

“Go for both.” I told him. “See how we do.”

Helfdan nodded at that. “I could not discount the possibility that he was there to help because he invoked the Queen's name. It is one of my most well-known weaknesses that if the Queen orders it, then I obey. People often forget that the follow up to that is that the Queen only tends to order me to do something when she is not as concerned about the “How” something is done. Because the other quality that I have over some of her other captains is that I don't think like they do. So I will do things that they would never consider in order to fulfil the will of the Queen. She had asked that this quest go ahead and as such I would, and will, go to any lengths to see to it that we succeed. People often forget that.

“I knew that he was going to betray me because I know the man. Finnvald is a an opportunist. He tries to play everything to his advantage and is always looking at every situation to see how he, himself, can come out better. He does not care if it kills his men, he does not care if his lord is insulted or dishonoured. So long as the cause of Finnvald is furthered,. If he gains more riches, more fame, more glory, more power or more influence? Then Finnvald considers those actions well taken. The downside of this is that he has little to no purity of purpose. He is always looking for the angle, so he often has a problem with focus or committing to the course of action.

“So here's what I think happened. I think that he really was sent to help us. I think that word of the various things that were being done to delay us, or to prevent our quest were brought to the attention of the Queen. Whether by Rymer or by any of the Queen's other contacts and avenues of information. The Merchant cartels or the traditionalist fighters or someone had realised that there were mercenaries being hired all over the islands in order to prevent our successes. I think that one, some or all of those things came to the Queen's attentions and she asked, in her court, whether there were any captains that were brave enough to sail to our aid.

“I think that Finnvald volunteered. Why? I do not know for sure but I can suppose several reasons. The first is that he saw an opportunity for my destruction. He hates me for my abilities at sea, the fact that I am regularly as successful on my raiding despite my ship being smaller and my commanding less men, and the fact that when the Queen really really needs something doing, she asks me rather than him.

“He also saw an opportunity to gain some favour in the eyes of his Jarl.”

“Who is his Jarl?” I wondered. “I never thought to ask.”

“He sails for Hjallmar An Craite. They're old drinking friends and Finnvald was part of that crowd of us that used to tool around and get into fights when Eist was still king and Crach was the Jarl of the An Craite clan.”

“With The Swallow?” I asked. Now well used to Helfdan's dislike of being reminded about Ciri.

“Yes. So the opportunity to do what the Queen asked would have scored him points with his Jarl. Who is what passes for a moderate on the islands. Hjallmar was a traditionalist but the Queen is his sister so he often falls on both sides of the line.

“But, if he could prevent our success and see to my destruction in the meantime then Finnvald would also gain favour with the traditionalists. When he gets to port, he will allow rumour of what he had done to get out in the local taverns, thus proving his ruthlessness while also letting people know that the reason he had taken this action was to dispose of so untraditional a ship's captain and to ensure the ongoing survival of that most ancient of rites.”

“The passage of the Skeleton Ship.”

“Correct. If I had to guess, he will now sail back to Kaer Trolde where he will, with tears in his eyes and a tremor in his voice, inform the Queen that I fought most valiantly in the pursuit of my quest but that I was overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers that I faced. That I charged ahead, hungry for glory and got myself and my crew killed.

“The weight of the blame for the death of the Swallow and the death of The Scribbler will thus be placed on my head. The traditionalists will breathe a sigh of relief and it will add fuel to the fire of saying that the Gods dislike me and anything that the Queen does. The Queen will be upset and won't believe that I would be so foolish, but will be unable to prove otherwise and will be forced to reward Finnvald for his loyal service. Thus furthering Finnvald's most important of causes.”

“Clever.” The woman mused. To my horror, she seemed to admire the man.

“Yes.” Helfdan agreed. “Or it would have been if it had worked. Now, we can use this to our advantage.”

“To what end?” I wondered.

“Well, my countrymen will think we are dead. The Skeleton Ship will have driven all other ships into port so the only people out there to see what we are doing are going to be those merchant ships who do not understand the concept of Skelligan honour. So the seas are ours. And should we be lucky enough to survive where we must go next. Then I will get to listen to the stories of my death while still being alive.”

He gave one of his rare, genuine, if slight, smiles.

“So why did you build him into your battle plan?” I wondered. “If you knew he was going to betray you, then why didn't he just leave you to your landing. We were already committed on the beach. He could have just turned his ships away and sailed off, leaving us to it.”

“He could have done. But he wanted to ensure that we were fully committed. Also, if his men escaped free from injury, then that would prove his failure and his lie. He fought, he waited until we were beyond the point of no return where retreat would be impossible and then he left. Svein worked that into our deployment. We wanted him to think that we were destroyed in order to be able to use that against our enemies.”

I shook my head. In disbelief more than anything else. Every time I run the risk of underestimating the Skelligans, they take some kind of steps to prove just how different they are, and that they are by no means stupid.

But I still had one question. “What about the Swallow?” I asked. “Would they have been happy just to kill her?”

“I think he would not have even brought that into his thinking. If he thought about it at all, then he would have assumed that the blame for that would have fallen onto my shoulders and that things would have been fine for him and his. Unfortunately for him though, he obviously doesn't know that she can teleport. Which is the flaw in his plan. Because she can go back to Kaer Trolde at any time and expose his treachery for all to see.”

He sighed in as close to happiness as I think that Helfdan can get. “I hope I am there to see that.”

There were other preparations that were being made as well. Things that I did not entirely understand but that needed to be done. The first and most obvious was that there needed to be provisions made for the wounded. The concern was that if we took the wounded over to the local village then there would almost certainly be enemies in that village who would be able to pass the information on that we had survived the battle. Thus squandering any kind of advantage that we had over whichever of our enemies that were still out there. But at the same time, it was beyond the pale to even consider the possibility of just abandoning them to their fates.

Fortunately, this was the easiest problem to solve. The Yukki-Onna told us that the wounded would be cared for until we could come and pick them up. They had already accepted the fact that Sigurd himself would be unable to move as his injuries, both from the monsters as well as the strange nature of his courtship, would mean that he would barely be able to be moved. Let alone doing anything as strenuous as fighting or sailing. So it seemed logical for him and the other wounded members of the Wave-Serpent to stay where they were under the care of the lady of the Yukki-Onna.

Helfdan was nervous about this and understandably so. Wondering what would happen if the ice giants would decide to take their anger out on the injured in return for the recent deaths that had been inflicted. The Yukki-Onna smiled at that and tilted her head to one side for a moment, strangely like a dog listening to the whistle that only it could hear. Then she told us that she and her people would take care of the matter. That the wounded would be brought onto the beach when another human landed on the beach.

She did not promise that those wounded would not also come back with other wives however.

But then there was the less pleasant problem of the fact that it was getting increasingly cold. The sea wasn't freezing yet but it was still getting colder. Every time I thought that it couldn't possibly get any colder at all, Svein or one of the others would tell me that there was still some way to go yet before the temperature would bottom out. I told him that he was not reassuring.

We spent the night on the beach but in the morning, Perrin and Kar went off to go “hunting for supplies to help with the cold,” although they wouldn't tell me what those supplies were. I should have known that it would be unpleasant though, given the face that Ciri made. A kind of resigned grimace of anticipated disgust.

She was not wrong.

They came back with some seals and set about butchering them. The old joke about thinking that they smelled bad on the outside was often repeated and although I made no secret about the fact that I was chafing at the continued delays, over and over again I was told that such delays would be the difference between life and death over the next couple of days. The surviving men of the Wave-Serpent got to work and out of the seals and the seal blubber, fur and other things that you don't think of as a seal having. They made gloves, Hoods and all kinds of things. It stank and was made even worse as we had to smear the stuff on our faces and all kinds of unpleasant things in order to retain the heat.

It was an effort just to keep from retching. But I was reassured by the fact that Ciri in particular was clearly as disgusted at the necessity as I was, but that she didn't even blink before she covered herself in the goop and the smelly hides of the sea creatures.

They were, actually, extremely warm.

I also had to listen to a lecture from Perrin on the subject of being out in the ridiculous levels of cold that we were expecting. It had the feeling of one of those speeches that people give soldiers before battle. Or that huntsmasters give hunters before they set out on the hunt. Not the stirring, uplifting kind of speech but rather the practical kind of speech. Where they tell you what the dangers are, what you're supposed to do. The calls you are supposed to make if you find yourself in trouble. To always look for the banner if you get lost. To stay together, shoulder to shoulder. Don't let yourself get drawn out. Stay with the group. Watch where you're going and don't let your horse eat from this kind of tree.

That kind of thing. The kind of speech where everyone always knows what's in the speech and has listened to either that speech or a speech just like it hundreds, if not thousands of times before.

There was an odd atmosphere amongst the men as they did it. It was clear that the sailors already knew about all of this stuff but they listened carefully anyway. Kerrass and Ciri were intent too. In my occasional role as a recorder, I found myself paying attention while also watching the reactions of the crowd.

There were some obvious pieces of information. Cover up at all times. Never touch cold metal with bare skin. Do not fall into the trap of being dehydrated. If your fingers or toes start to feel numb or tingly then you need to address the matter immediately.

But there were also some surprising ones. Like the one about measured exertion. Apparently, one of the most dangerous things that can happen when you are moving, working or travelling in extremely low temperatures is whether or not you start to sweat. Apparently, that's really dangerous. We were also told that it is better to strip naked and return to warm clothing than to trust in the water-proof nature of the clothing itself.

Go figure.

There were also some other things that I didn't know but I could understand why they were important. That I was to look out for any kind of discolouration of the skin on myself, especially fingers, toes and genitals. That many problems could be solved by making sure that my feet were warm and dry and so on and on.I also had my first snow bath. It was, at the same time, the most painful and most exhilarating thing that could have happened.

There were conflicts in just about everything there. Disagreements and paradoxes that I couldn't possibly understand. Nor did I try to. In the end, I just continued with the way that I had learned to behave when travelling with Kerrass. Head down, pay attention and do what you need to do. Because I was being told things that would go towards keeping me alive.

And, so Svein told me, making sure that I was still enough of a man to satisfy my wife on my wedding night. I didn't need that extra piece of encouragement but it did rather stick in my mind.

Then there was the other problem that we had. Something that was fueling my dissatisfaction and that was with the information that the Ice Giant had given us. Or rather, the lack of it.

It was all really anti-climactic really. It turns out that the very first thing that he told us was true. When he said, “even if he knew, then he wouldn't tell us.” Thus suggesting that he didn't know. This was true. He had no new information to give us and that was heart-breaking for me. There was an enormous weight of guilt that came crashing down on my head when he finally admitted that. That all those people had fought and died for nothing. That I had been the instrument of their death. That came close, again, to my calling the whole thing off.

Kerrass had to take me a bit in hand after that and not for the first time. I wanted to call the thing off because all that I could think about were those men that had lost their lives since my quest, my mission to find my sister had begun. All the injury, death and destruction that had happened since then had been unneeded. The matter with the church of Sansum, the Cult of the First-Born. What had happened in the business with the Unicorn and now, the death of the many fine men of the Wave-Serpent.

Logically and clinically I know that none of those things were my fault. I can claim the guilt of some of the things that happened in Toussaint but for the rest, there is even an argument to be made that things would have been worse if Kerrass and I hadn't been there. Would the cult of the First-Born still be hunting Elves and the less fortunate through the woods. Would the Unicorn and Schrodinger now be alive or would they now be dead? Would the knights of Sansum have continued their crusade against their perception of evil.

There is no knowing the answers to any of these questions of course. And when I was feeling strong enough and healthy enough, you know, when I'm not in the middle of my normal post battle depression, I would be able to see these things for the self-flaggelation that they were. But right then and right there. I saw all that death and all of that suffering as something that I was responsible for and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Kerrass intercepted me before I could go to Helfdan and call the entire thing off. He told me, backed up by Ciri, that Helfdan and the crew would take it as an insult to the men who had died in the carrying out of this quest if we stopped now that it was getting a bit hard. The pair of them also told me that they would be right to do so.

Then Ciri hugged me and told me that she loved me for feeling that way though. We had a little weep together and talked about how much we both missed Francesca before we returned to the small clump of people that were still questioning the giant.

I absolutely believe that there was nothing more that he could tell us about the ship. Both his wife and his daughter pressed him closely and harshly on the subject and no-one. Not even the hardest-hearted man in the world could have stood before the onslaught of the woman that he loved and the daughter that he plainly adored.

There was simply nothing else to be told. He could not give us any information about the ship. He agreed with us that the thing was ancient and that it had been coming to these islands for a long time. Since long before the colonisation of the islands by the Humans. He agreed that it was a thing of power and he did speak a bit about the significance of the thing when it came to the giants themselves.

The giants didn't feel the cold, it didn't affect them in the same way, there was even something to be said that the giants actively became stronger the colder that it got which, in turn, suggested the real underlying reason why the giants weren't entirely happy with the prospect of helping us destroy or dismiss the ship.

He gave us plenty of myths and stories about it. Including the theory that the giants themselves had come to the islands aboard the Skeleton Ship but even he admitted that this was the giant equivalent of a bed-time story. He told us that it was the ship that carried the Eternal Frost everywhere. He also said that it was Winter itself travelling through the lands. It was plain to see that he himself didn't believe in any of these things but as to what we wanted to know? What the ship might have lost? He couldn't help us.

What he told us was where to look.

One of those things that seems obvious when you look back.

He told us that the ship was a thing of the sea. The undisputed lords of the sea in the ancient times were the Vodyanoi so we should go and talk to them. That they knew everything that happened in those oceans at those times which is why they always knew where the human longship were. Where the Ice-Giant crafts were. They always knew because the sea was their realm and they knew how it worked, they understood it in a way that no other creature could even begin to understand.

So we were going to see the Vodyanoi.

The effect that this had on the Skelligans was extraordinary.

I had always thought of the Skelligans as being a fearless people. Often to the point of ridiculousness and foolishness.

But that day I learned a different interpretation. It's a controversial one and one that they probably won't thank me for. But I do think it's one that is worth writing down.

I should say, for those few of you that might want to take this interpretation to the islands, or those few Skelligans that I know that might be reading this....

Hello by the way,

…. That I say all of these things with love. The truth is probably that it lies somewhere in the middle. But here's my alternative hypothesis.

Are you ready?

My alternative hypothesis is that the Skelligan people are actually ruled by their fears. They go so far as to have codified their fear and set them down in books of “traditions” and “customs.” Then the Skalds learn vast numbers of stories about times that these customs and traditions have been abused or denied in some way which means that the lesson is reinforced for the young Skelligans who then go on to reinforce those same lessons into their young folk and on and on and on.

Some time ago I talked about the traditions of sea faring but there are many others as well. No-one takes the laws of hospitality quite as seriously as the Skelligans do. Wars have been fought over this person or that person breaking just the smallest measure of the traditions.

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I have also spoken about the Skelligan love of storytelling. That they have a story or an anecdote about every situation. Sometimes that story is true and sometimes it is meant as a metaphor and sometimes a parable. But the story is always told with the conviction that the thing being imparted onto the listener is the truth of the universe being imparted.

And for all I know it might be.

What this means is that there is little to no way of telling fact from fiction. I was talking about Hospitality. I once asked a warrior why the law of hospitality is so important and he spun me a tale. This was early on after my landing on the islands while I was still recovering from the crossing and he told me a tale about how a warrior had been sent to speak with a Witch...

I'm not getting into the politics of calling a woman a Witch when she's actually a sorceress, wise woman, healer, herb-woman or anything else. I'm not touching that with a ten foot boar spear.

The locals were worried about the presence of the Witch with the normal kinds of worries that locals have when a woman settles in the area and seems to know a little bit about things that normal people aren't supposed to know about. Things like the laying numbers of the hens, the quality and quantity of the milk that the village cow produces, crop yields and weather patterns and the like.

So they sent the warrior. The warrior, being a Skelligan, marches up to the old-woman's hut (as I say, I didn't touch the gender politics of the thing) and knocked on the door to enquire as to the woman's purpose in the area. She invited him inside with courtesy so the warrior took that as an expression of hospitality.

They spoke for a while when it became clear that the warrior was unsatisfied with the answers that the witch was giving him and told her that she would have to move on as the local lord was not happy with the kinds of things that the Witch wanted to do in the area.

As I say, there is a lot of context missing and I had so many questions as a result of this that I found it a little off-putting. But that wasn't part of the story and therefore the details were unknown. If there was any kind of realism to the story, then the chances were good that the woman wanted to act as a midwife and to offer preventatives to those women that didn't want to get pregnant in the first place. You'd be quite astonished at the number of lords who see this kind of thing as being anything to be upset about. There are any number of things that meant that a lord could want the wise woman, Sorceress, witch, Herb-woman to move on and I'm sure that you can fill in the blanks yourself.

The point being that the warrior told the woman that the Lord would not be happy at her presence and that she should move on at her earliest convenience. Which, as we all know, means right fucking now.

The witch did not take kindly to this and cast a spell at the warrior who rose to his feet ready to flee. “Never had the desire to fight back been stronger in the warrior's heart. But he was invited in and could not break the laws of hospitality.” Instead, he chose to flee but the woman's voice faltered as she looked down at her feet in horror and saw the slow spread of crystalline structure creep along her limbs as she turned into salt before the horrified warrior's eyes. So let that be a lesson to you. Never ever break the laws of hospitality less your own curse be turned back against you.”

The story was told with more flourishes than that. There were jokes and silly voices and miming, all feeding into the skill of the storyteller. But can you imagine being told that when you were young. The sheer power of a child's imagination going along with that.

It is the same with the act of cowardice. Only the bravest of warriors can pass into the afterlife, borne aloft on the winged horses of the Valkyr while cowards are cursed forever.

So, there is an argument to be made that Skelligans are not brave. What they are doing is being terrified of being cowards. Terrified of being afraid.

Does that equal bravery? I'm not the wisest person to ask on the subject. I think that the Skelligans are brave. As I say, sometimes to the point of foolishness and are a little too eager to elevate and cherish strength at arms above all other virtues for my taste. But you will never see a more caring people. They care so very deeply about everything.

But I had never seen them be afraid, not truly, not until the giant told us that the answers that we sought would be found among the Vodyanoi. It was like a collective shudder went through the survivors of the battle. There was a common refrain of “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” all while men milled around and stared at nothing.

This was strange for me. I had been used to men being with me and on my side when it came to my desperation to move on, to get to the next stage and to do the next thing. But now, it was as though I was against the remaining members of the crew as well. Those wounded men were commiserating with those that would carry on about what they were going to do. There was... It was as though the enthusiasm had completely left them and I did not understand it.

In all honesty, I didn't want to understand it either. To me it was a desperately unfair thing. I wanted to get moving and carry on. But I was worried. These men were willing to sail into the arms of the oncoming Skeleton Ship in order to help me to carry out my quest. They followed me onto a beach of giants and had sailed against pirates and walked into battle in order to see this through. But now, now we were going to see the Vodyanoi. A people that the Priestesses of Freya had promised us, would be receptive to our overtures of discussion. Much more so than the giants had been. We had been given everything we would need in order to make contact including location. The only thing that was in short supply, really, was time.

So it horrified me to find that the Skelligans had lost their energy, their confidence and their.... I want to say drive. Whatever it was that had powered them into the waiting trolls and giants, it was as though it had been snatched away.

And I didn't understand it. So I did what I always do when I come across something in the world that I don't understand. I went to see Kerrass.

I found him sitting at a fire with Ciri. They were exchanging notes about the creatures that we had just met. Talking shop mostly about the names of the things that the Yukki-Onna had talked about as well as maintaining their weapons. Discussing the origins of the names of the things and therefore what they might be like and onto what might be used to destroy them should any of them get out of hand. It was a bleak topic but it struck me as more the kind of thing that two Witchers would do in order to just pass the time. Their equivalent of shop talk.

Where other craftsmen might talk about wood or different kinds of stone, Witchers talk about variations in monsters and how that effects the hunts. On those rare occasions where I've seen Kerrass interact with other Witchers, there is often a moment where they exchange notes on the monsters that they've both seen and the variations that occasionally crop up. Things like “I'm heading south soon, do Wyverns fly differently in Lyria and Rivia when compared to those that are found amongst the Hengfors league?”

The answer is, yes. Yes they do.

But they both looked up as I approached.

“He's got that look.” Ciri commented to Kerrass.

“Which look?” Kerrass wondered.

“You know the one. The one that essentially declares that he's confused about the way the world is working at the moment.”

“Oh that look. I always took that look for meaning that he needs to get laid. That or he's constipated.”

“How do you normally deal with that look?”

“Generally, I ignore him until he goes away. That or find a willing woman to deal with that.”

“Does that work?”

“Not as much as it used to. Not since he got engaged. In all truth, I'm a little worried about him. He must be getting quite backed up by now.”

Ciri laughed a little. “Are you talking about the constipation or the other thing?”

“The other thing mostly.” Kerrass squinted along the edge of his sword.

“I can't even begin to tell you.” I began carefully. “Just how glad I am that the two of you have started ganging up on me.”

“What can I say?” Ciri protested. “You occasionally look like you need a big sister to slap you about a bit.”

“I have a big sister thank you so much.”

“And she isn't here so I will just have to do won't I.” She grinned at me before tilting her head to one side. “Alternatively, I do have a mix of herbs that works to dislodge something if you are having bowel trouble. If it's the other thing then I can't really help you.”

I looked around for a suitably sized clump of snow, fashioned a snowball and threw it at her. She dodged.

Because of course she dodged.

And laughed. “I'll leave you two to it.” She told us both. “I'm not in the mood for deep thoughts just yet. So I'm going to go and see if I can persuade that Yukki-Onna to play some more music.”

“Are you sure?” Kerrass asked her. “I think I would rather have my own eye-balls scooped out than listen to any more of that horrible screeching.” Kerrass had not appreciated the strange music.

“Quite sure. Even if only to watch the expressions that you pull when she starts hitting some of those high notes.”

Kerrass glowered at her. The last refuge of a man who has run out of things to say.

Ciri got up and walked off in the direction of the fire as I sat on the piece of driftwood that she had just vacated.

“What's on your mind Freddie?” Kerrass asked. He had switched to his steel sword now and was running a whet stone along the edge in long, even strokes.

I took a deep breath and plunged in. I was actually quite glad that Ciri had chosen to move away, her love for the Skelligans can sometimes be a little overwhelming and I didn't want to run the risk that my questions would make her angry.

“Ummm. I don't understand.”

“There are many things that you don't understand Freddie, care to narrow it down a little bit?”

“I sense that you are teasing me.”

“Only a little bit. You're locked into your own head, anyone can see that and if I had to guess, there are actually several dozen things that are bothering you at any one time. So pick one and we'll talk about it and then, with a bit of luck, you will sit the fuck down and calm your self.” There was another metallic rasp as he ran the stone up the sword. “You're making me nervous.”

“I'm making you nervous.”

Kerrass sighed. “And now you're dodging the subject. But yes, you are making me nervous. I am concerned that the visit to the cave of the berserkers has changed something in you a little bit. I can feel something building in you and I'm not sure what that thing is or whether or not I like it. I had kind of hoped that you would feel a bit better after having something honest to Goddess to be able to hit. But that doesn't seem to have worked out for you. Instead, if anything, you seem more jittery afterwards.”

He took another stroke of the stone. “I stress that you have plenty of legitimate reasons to get cross and angry and confused and everything about. But for right now....?” He shrugged. “But I don't think we're going to fix that today. Instead, what is it you came over here to talk about and we'll see if we can put that one thing to rest. So, I say again, what's on your mind Freddie?”

“I don't understand.”

“Ok, now you're mocking me.”

“Only a little bit.” I intentionally mimicked him from earlier. “But it's true, I'm struggling to understand what's happening here. The Skelligans are mighty warriors, up until today, if you'd asked me, I would have told you that I thought that they were fearless. But after it's been mentioned that we would be going off to see the Vodyanoi. It's like a.... I don't know, it's like they're jumping at shadows and walking on tip-toes. I've seen them spit to ward off evil more in the last few hours than I have seen them do since we came to the islands. Svein keeps touching the axe at his belt to reassure himself that it's there and I don't get it. What's different about the Vodyanoi?”

“What do you know about the Vodyanoi?”

“As little as everyone else I suspect. I know that they're ruled by their different religions and if you meet one say, around the lake in Vizima, the chances of whether or not they are going to behave like friends or try and rip your throat out depends on whether or not they worship Dagon or the Lady of the Lake.”

Kerrass nodded and gestured for me to keep going.

“I know that they are on a technilogical par with ourselves except in those areas where they exceed us. I have heard stories of machines that allow them to talk to us although I have never seen one or met anyone that has seen one. The fact that they can forge metal and armour that works as armour and keep it under water without it rusting into dust speaks for their advanced knowledge of metallurgy. Maybe even more than the Dwarves and gnomes.”

“Go on.”

“They can breathe underwater and I understand that they wear masks to allow themselves to breathe on land. They share the sea and some of the Pontar tributaries with the Merpeople and the Naiads but their relationship with those two other races is either antagonistic or respectful. Again, according to whatever religion the Vodyanoi in question are following when they meet.”

“Do you know their history when it comes to the Skelligan islands?”

“Not really. I know that they were an invading force and that they occupied these islands while being at war with the Ice giants. And that they enslaved the humans in the following of that war.”

“Correct as far as it goes. For the full version of that story, you would be better of talking to one of the Skelligans. Thorvald probably or even Helfdan might be able to give you a more accurate historical recount of the matter. But the Vodyanoi defeated the Ice giants with using the Skelligans as slave armies. Then the Skelligans resisted until the Vodyanoi retreated. Presumably as part of a desire for a quiet life. But there were years where the Vodyanoi would still raid the shoreline of the islands. Stealing babies and massacring settlements. In every way that the Skelligans are feared up and down the coastlines of the continent, the Vodyanoi did the same around the islands.”

“So there might even be a historical argument to be made that the Skelligans learned their trade at the hands of the Vodyanoi?”

“There might, but don't mention such a theory around the Skelligans if you want to survive.”

“Good advice.” I mocked him. I know that Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but sometimes, Kerrass deserves it. “Because I've had a deep and increasing desire to see what my spleen actually looks like.”

Kerrass chuckled. “Alright...”

“I mean, I've seen other people's spleens but I always thought that mine would be that little bit better you know? Because I'm better than they are.”

“You done?”

“I've got more but.... I suppose I can let you off.”

“They never defeated the Vodyanoi. They drove them away but that isn't really a victory. The ice Giants were all but destroyed, driven underground only for odd giants to come out and wreck havoc around the place. But the Vodyanoi? The Vodyanoi retreated. There were a few battles to be sure. And both sides won some of those battles but it wasn't a war like that. It was a war of skirmishing. Of men and Vodyanoi jumping out and fighting. Eventually though, the Vodyanoi can't breathe the air. So suddenly, all the ore and other raw materials that the islands gave them were just... not worth the effort. So they left. Or at least, that's the most reasonable explanation for why they retreated.

“But that leaves the Skelligans with the fear. What if the Vodyanoi came back? They haven't. There hasn't been a raid for decades, if not centuries by now. But what if, one day, the Vodyanoi came to the surface in a massive wave and decided to destroy the upstart humans. What could any of us possibly do to stop them?

“And that's the fear. It's the fear of the boogeyman behind the door, the monster under the bed. It's the dark gap in the trees that your mind imagines red glowing eyes in the depths of and why we're so keen to imagine supernatural causes for all of life's little problems rather than to just admit that bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad. The difference is.... or rather one of the differences is, that the Skelligans know that the boogeyman is out there.

“There is also the fact that the Skelligans make their living off the sea. Queen Cerys is right in many of her reforms. About teaching her people to farm and creating arable land and working with the druids to drain some of the swamps and make other bits of land more fertile. And one of the reasons that some folks are supporting her in that is this. If they wanted to, the Skelligans would lose their mastery of the sea. They would just be destroyed. In the same way that we have our mastery of the ground and the air, the Vodyanoi have the mastery of the sea. We intrude on their realm every time we set sail and the Skelligans know that.

“A water breathing Vodyanoi warrior swims under water and takes one of their spears to the underside of the Wave-Serpent's hull. There is absolutely nothing we could do to stop that. So their fear is very real.

“But then there is the cultural thing. Fear is anathema to them. They see fear as being a weakness rather than the very real instinctual reaction of a body to danger. Fear breeds caution but they can't see that. They don't know that and they resent anything that might cause them to feel that same fear.”

“All of those are good answers Kerrass. And I can see and understand them all. But I don't get it. I just don't. All of those fears are valid. But what you describe are obstacles to overcome. Yes, all of those problems would be serious. I agree. But, off the top of my head, there would be things that could be done to protect from them. The Skelligans have already proved fierce fighters so if the Vodyanoi took up raiding again then they could be fought off. There are already alarm systems set up around the islands. And as you say, the Queen is taking steps to address the dependence on sailing and raiding.

“I might argue that self-sufficiency might drive the Skelligans towards isolationism but they are already doing that. And as for the whole thing about drilling holes in the bottom of the ship thing. I have no doubt that there are magical things that could be done. I don't know how it would work but if you had a mage who could detect underwater attackers. A lightening bolt into the water would have some effect. Or other countermeasures.”

“I think you're missing the point. This is a primal fear for the Skelligans. It's an instinctual, bone deep fear. An enemy that they have never been able to defeat that could return at any time to destroy their way of life. And they don't know how they won. Now, here's a crazy continental Lord and his mutant friend along with a woman that so obviously causes their lord distress by her very presence. And they are expecting to be taken off to talk to their ultimate enemy.”

I still didn't get it though and Kerrass could tell.

“Ok. Real talk now.” He began, putting his sword away in the sheath on his back. “This is going to make you feel awful and I apologise for that in advance but you want to know the truth? This is why these people are terrified. You ready?”

I nodded. Taking a deep breath.

“You and I have had a remarkable run. We really have. Neither us have been crippled. Injured? Yes. Sick? Yes. Forced to adjust thinking against our own will? Absolutely. But neither of us have lost limbs or lost facial features and the scars that we have received have been more of the kind of “sexy interesting” scars that give us something to talk about with women at parties. We haven't lost our ears, or a nose, nor do we have huge mass of scar tissue on the side of our faces or any of the other things that can happen in my line of work. We have fought, we have bled and, for the most part, we have been victorious. Am I wrong?”

“Interesting phrase that. “For the most part”.”

“Which is actually my point. We have outright failed, once. Against Jack. But there are two other times where our victories hardly count as such. Let's discount Jack for a minute. My darkest moment during our journeys together came at the hands of the Cult of the First-Born. I am dissatisfied with where that was left. We won because I managed to put together an obscure number of things into the right order to come back with a victory. But we succeeded because we fled and made it to safety. We did not destroy our enemy. We fled from them. But that's about me and we're talking about you.”

“You saved all of us Kerrass.” I told him. Not for the first time. “You saved us and if you hadn't then the cult would still be...”

He waved me off. “I know I know. I know all the lines but I'm still not happy with it. But as I say. This is about you not me. For you, and as I say, I'm sorry if this upsets you. But we're talking about the Beast of Amber's crossing.”

I shuddered and fought down the panic that had formed in the pit of my stomach.

“See?” Kerrass asked. “You are far from a physical coward. You are not afraid of physical hurt or injury. You don't like the idea but then again, who would? You have accepted the possibility of injury, maiming or death at the hands of a blade or the claws of a creatured. But the loss of sanity.... The loss of your soul or whatever you want to call it. That terrifies you. And rightly so.

“But here's the rub. We didn't kill it. We defeated it by luck and trickery rather than design and strength at arms. We manipulated it into leaving but it could just as easily have gone the other way and taken your soul with it. You nearly didn't survive that and it was only through intense effort on your part. Effort and a bravery that few would be able to match, that you were able to bring yourself back from the abyss and survive what that creature did to you.”

He stared at me for a long time. “Am. I. Wrong?” He asked.

I shook my head. I was shaking.

“So now, picture the scene. We are going up against a terrible and terrifying evil. A thing that we can barely comprehend and that could overwhelm us. We go everywhere trying to find a way to defeat it. We speak to Ariadne and Maleficent. We talk to all the Witchers that we can find. We consult druids, Sorceresses and priests and we can find no answer. We talk to travellers from different realms and beasts that can barely communicate with us and finally we receive news. That news being that there is one being that can give us the information that we seek. That being is the darkness that lives in the woods outside of Amber's crossing. So now, we have to go and speak to it. And get it to tell us what we need to know.”

Kerrass stared at me for a long time.

“Now do you understand? The Vodyanoi are the ancient, undefeated enemy that did a lot to make the Skelligans who they are today but that, in turn, the Skelligans did not manage to actually defeat. And now, we are going to talk to them.”

I nodded, gritting my teeth against the tremors.

“I'm sorry Freddie.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

“It's ok.” I forced out, placing my hand on top of his. “I asked.”

He nodded at that. “If you want to know the history of the thing. I would suggest that you ask the questions. Speak to someone. I have no doubt that the battles in question would make for fascinating reading.”

“I will.” I managed to find the humour somewhere. “Maybe not today though eh?”

“You're right.” Kerrass smiled at me. “maybe not today.”

So, you might be wondering how Helfdan overcame this problem with his people. I certainly was. Now that I had seen that a problem existed I was really curious as to how it would effect his decisions and what he was going to do, or say, in order to get people onto the ship and get us back in the water and doing what we needed to do. Because, I had no idea how we were going to proceed from there.

The answer was rather surprising really. He didn't do anything. He just carried on with his chores and did everything that he was supposed to.

He arranged the dispensation of the wounded. He furthered the illusion that the Wave-Serpent had been destroyed at the hands of the ice giants by directing the walking wounded to head to the nearest settlement in order to tell folk what would happen. This did cause some controversy because it meant that Helfdan was lying to a clan that might be an ally but Helfdan explained it away as saying. “If it gains us even a moments confusion then it was worth it.”

The Yukki-Onna promised to keep an eye on them and to make sure that they made it there safely. Sigurd would not be going with the walking wounded as he was far too injured to be moved easily. That and his new lady simply refused to be parted from him. After a while it was decided that it was more trouble than it was worth to explain how these wounded men would find a strange, beautiful, white skinned girl out in the wilderness. A girl who could barely speak anything intelligible, despite her rapid progress in picking things up, and was clearly from a vastly different culture.

That was kind of sweet as well. The girl clearly thought of herself as already being married but Sigurd was still struggling to get his head round the idea. He kept apologising to her for not being able to “pay court to her” as he properly should. The compromise was that when he was picked up. Either by Helfdan and the Wave-Serpent, or from the local village when it became clear that Helfdan had failed and had been destroyed, then there would be a Skelligan marriage ceremony where she would wear a dress and there would be an exchange of gifts and a druid, a priestess would bind the two of them together formerly before the Gods.

It was clear, to me at least although I suspect that some other people spotted it, that the girl was humouring him. I think that Sigurd had gone into a state of shock. He was still struggling with the fact that he had been so permanently and utterly injured, while at the same time, he had found a woman who loved him.

And she really did. You could tell that just by looking at the pair of them together. I suspect that it was just taking a bit of time for him to catch up with everything.

But I digress....

Once that was sorted out, the Yukki-Onna also agreed to find some other ship wreckage from up and down the coast and to set it adrift into the ways. That in an effort to tell anyone that might come after us that we had, indeed, been sunk.

But Helfdan did nothing about his men's worsening mood. Once he had assured himself that we had all the supplies that we would need, again we were helped in that by the Yukki-Onna, he simply ordered his men aboard and we set sail again.

I did wonder about that. Whether he did it intentionally or not, his simply not addressing the fear of his men meant that it was seen as almost a lesser problem. As though it was beneath him. It showed his men that he, at least, was not afraid of whatever there might be waiting for us all underneath the waves. So his men looked to him, saw that he was unafraid or that he didn't care and simply straightened their shoulders, came aboard and got to work.

I do wonder if he did it deliberately and I also wonder how things might have been different if he had taken the time to address what was going to happen. Would there have been a change as to the attitude of the men? Would it have confirmed the risk in their eyes or not?

I have no idea and I didn't want to ask him. I didn't know what I would be more afraid of. Knowing Helfdan, there was a very real possibility that it simply hadn't occurred to him to be afraid in the first place. Therefore he had assumed that his men weren't afraid and had just got on with life.

I don't know which theory I find more interesting.

So we set sail. It took every hand, including mine and Kerrass' to get the Wave-Serpent off the beach. It turned out that another of Helfdan's precautions in protecting us from the treachery of Finnvald was that he had intentionally driven the ship onto the beach quite hard. Thus meaning that Finnvald's men wouldn't be able to set the ship adrift and maroon us on the island.

The downside though was that we were digging and heaving to get the ship back afloat and many of us were cold, wet and sweaty by the time we were done.

Which was when I found out why sweating in extreme cold is so dangerous. Turns out that it's because the cold will freeze the sweat which will bring the body temperature down. So there you go. Never say I don't teach you anything.

And then we were under way again.

It was bitterly cold. Horribly cold and there was no shelter from it at all. I don't know if we could have made it without Kerrass' ability to heat rocks and therefore to make hot food for us all to eat. The necessity of sharing body heat meant that we all got much friendlier with each other and modesty was a luxury that we had to do without as we all huddled together for warmth.

We also stank. There had been no real time to cure the furs that we were wearing to try and keep the heat in, this with the grease and stuff that we smeared our faces with in an effort to insulate ourselves. In certain circles there is sometimes an effort to make the idea of “sharing body heat” in extreme cold come across as sexy. Well I'm here to tell you that it isn't. There was just a lot of tired, shivering men and one woman trying to survive Even the most attractive and beautiful person in the world doesn't look attractive when they are turning blue and shivering with the cold.

But not a one of them complained. Flame love them for it. Not a one of them suggested that we should turn for port or that we might want to consider an alternative course of action. When I eventually asked what the cut off point was that we would be forced to turn to port for our own safety, Helfdan told me that when the sea around where we were going was truly becoming solid then we would be forced to hack our way to shore.

When I questioned the choice of words he pointed to a bundle that had stayed in the bottom of the Wave-Serpent. Turns out that the bundle was of these huge, ugly and monsterously heavy axes. He literally meant that we would have to hack our way through the ice for the Wave-Serpent to make port.

The other cut off point was if the Skeleton Ship became visible as the ship was known to occasionally attack those other ships that could be found on the waves. And if it became clear that the Skeleton Ship was heading for Ard Skellig for it's final circuit. When I asked which of these things was likely to come first, he couldn't answer me.

So we struggled onwards.

The meeting point that we had been told about was to the North. It felt a little bit as though we were being mocked by this as this was also the direction that the Skeleton Ship had gone in. So we were sailing blind. Our hope, maybe a fool's hope, was that the Skeleton Ship was caught up in the group of smaller islands to the North West of the main group of islands. Therefore, we could cut inside the circle of the outer islands in order to get where we were going. We were not that hopeful though, such thoughts meant that we were depending on luck and our luck had not been all that great over the time that we had spent on the mission.But what else was there to do?

It was not helped by the fact that we had to take very real precautions while sailing. The course we had laid meant that we would be perilously close to Ard Skellig. Not that we were afraid of the waters, but that meant that our survival might be given away to spies. But the other thing, as I say, was the sheer cold. This meant that ice was forming on the sail overnight. It meant that we would need to stop that little bit earlier in order to build fires and set shelters.

It was the first time that I ever heard of something called an igloo. A small domed construction made out of ice where you would then light a fire inside. It sounds stupid to take shelter in a room made out of ice, but the ice had this effect of reflecting the heat back into the room until it got surprisingly warm. And we needed every warmth that we could get or we would not survive.

Everywhere we went, we could see signs of the coming of the Skeleton Ship. Huge boulders of ice floated in the sea, floating south. Helfdan steered us well round them telling me that ice bergs were much larger beneath the surface than was easily understood. So it was actually really dangerous to get too close.

I saw a tree shatter with the cold. I had heard about it before but had never actually seen one. When the cold is so intense that the sap inside the tree freezes. As it freezes it expands and the tree seems to crack and explode.

We found a sheep that had frozen to death. It was impossible to tell how it had happened, presumably it had wandered away from the herd and the Shepherd had not realised what had happened as he was gathering in the rest of the flock. Or, as Svein told me was more likely, the farmer in question was far too afraid of the coming cold than he was of the possibility of losing a few sheep to the cold. It was like a solid lump of meat. There were scratches on it from where slightly hardier predators had tried to take bites out of but had been unable to get any purchase in order to get at the meat properly.

So we ate it ourselves. It made for a good mutton strew with a broth for the following morning. Skelligan pragmatism at it's best.

I also had an exciting experience the first time that my hair froze to the ground while I was asleep, or that time my drool froze to my face.

Oh come on, we all do it.

It was tough. Really tough. Tough enough that we weren't really able to train. Tough enough that even Kerrass was struggling, to taunts and jeers of “Kitty cats prefer the warmth”. Ciri really struggled with it. And I was worse off than she was.

But here comes the surprise. It was actually a really happy period. If I hadn't been so wound up about everything and the pending delays and the constant state of fear that was coming over us. The threat of the Skeleton ship and so on. I would even have said that it was among the high points of my journeys so far.Obviously the exceptions would be meeting Ariadne and falling in love with her as well as her agreeing to marry me.

But when one of us was struggling, there was always someone else there to offer a joke. When one of us got angry and needed to blow off some steam, we understood. It was a bonding experience. Taking nothing away from the men that we had had to leave behind due to injury, those of us that remained were forged into a crew. There were twelve men, plus Helfdan, Ciri, Kerrass and myself and the sixteen of us formed a kinship that was formidable.

If you want to know, my contribution towards the generalised entertainment was that I started to learn how to row. Once again proving that just because I can ride, or walk all day. Train with Kerrass twice a day and all the physical hardships that go with that. I am still monstrously unsuited for physical labour.

But there was something missing. I still didn't know anything about the Vodyanoi and their relationship with the Skelligans. So I actually went to Helfdan with my problem.

As always, he was sat by the fire, feet stretched out towards the fire, boots, possibly a little closer to the flames than they really should have been and he was reading. The book on his knees. Periodically he would un-tuck one of his hands from within the folds of fur that he had wrapped himself in in order to turn another page. He did so carefully and precisely, presumably to preserve the pages in case they had frozen or been damaged with the snow and the ice that was in the air. He alternated his hands as well. First his left hand would sneak out from the wrappings to turn the pages, before then his right hand would come into the open. I giggled as I was reminded of a rabbit, or a mole poking his head out of a burrow before deciding that it was far too cold to emerge properly and thus retreating to their burrow.

He had given up on the idea of writing. Like mine, his ink had frozen making the work impossible. I suppose there was the possibility of charcoal to be used as writing implements but the possibility of tearing or otherwise damaging the paper would have been too high for my comfort as well as, presumably, Helfdan's comfort.

“Lord Helfdan.” I greeted him as I brought him his bowl.

“Lord Frederick.” He carefully replaced his leather book mark and closed the book before tucking it into the oilskin pouch that he had at his side almost permanently now. All this before he accepted the bowl of food from my hand, wrapping his own hands round the bowl for the added warmth. “How are you holding up?” He asked politely.

“I must admit, that I am surprised by the climate for the time of year.” I told him. A few of the nearby men chuckled, appreciating the dry humour. I had pitched my voice to carry as though I was playing to an audience.

“It is much colder than we would normally expect it to be.” Helfdan admitted. “But at the same time, it is bracing. But you did not come over here to talk to me about the weather.”

“I did not.”

He scooped a portion of his mutton stew into his mouth. “Then how can I help you, Scribbler?”

“Well,” I began. “It is now several days since we left the coast of Undvik and it struck me that we have not had a decent tale told round the camp fire in all that time.” There was some rumblings of agreement from the listening people. “So I was wondering if you would grace us with a story?”

Helfdan shook his head. “I am not much of a one for telling stories.” Then he played straight into my hands. “I much prefer the truth of history. I struggle with the dramatic embellishments that a tale-teller, bard or Skald add into the real events. What actually happened is interesting enough.”

“I couldn't agree more.” I told him to some more laughter from the remaining crew. “As it was a matter of history that I wanted to ask about anyway.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I know that the subject is taboo. I know that there is a lot of history between your two peoples. So I want to know that history as it is outside my experience. What is the history between your people and the Fomori. The Vodyanoi as I would call them.”

He considered this. “Thorvald is far more knowledgable about this subject than I am.”

“I am at that.” Thorvald called out. “But the Scribbler asked for the history of the thing rather than the tales that I know. I would tell stories of the heroism of Hemdall and his children.” Thorvald made his voice a mocking exaggeration of the grand, tale-telling voice that he would normally spin his yarns with. “I would tell of the love between the God-King and the Goddess and about how their love bred a strength into their children so that the Fomori could be cast aside. So that the Fomori could be thrown aside and that their ruin could shatter the cliff-sides.” His voice returned to normal. “The Scribbler wants to know what actually happened.”

“Also,” Svein spoke up. “He is not wrong. We have not had a tale out of you yet. My Lord.” He bowed with a flowery, over the top imitation of a continental courtly salute.

Helfdan's eyebrow rose as he watched this. “I also note that we have not had a story out of you yet Svein.”

“Not so. I told the Scribbler about my history with you and why I gave my oath to you.” Svein grinned happily. “I have fulfilled my debt as host.”

I wondered if I was imagining the calculating look in Svein's eyes. I thought that it was possible that he was goading Helfdan in some way but I couldn't guess as to what the motivation for that could be at the time.

Now, I suppose that a factual account of how the Fomori were expelled from the islands would be a reminder to the crew that the Fomori could be beaten. That they were not some hidden terror that lurked in the shadows, but rather, they were flesh and blood creatures that could be defeated in battle.

“Besides.” I added. “I have heard the legends before from my time in Kaer Trolde. But the history of what actually happened? That is still a mystery to me.”

Helfdan looked around the faces that reflected the firelight. Then he looked at the sky and looked at the sail of the Wave-Serpent. All this before he wolfed down the remaining food in his bowl.

“Very well.” He said, wiping his chin on his sleeve.

-

We know, due to the work of the Arch-Druid Gildas, that this part of the world used to be much colder than it is now. It was so cold in these waters that a man could walk around the islands without getting his feet wet in much more than snow and ice. He would not need to swim even though the cold would have been so intense that to go for a swim would have resulted in the man's almost instant death.

At the time, there were two powers in this realm. Those that lived above the ice and those that lived below.

The Giants and the Vodyanoi respectively. And they hated each other. It was as simple a matter as them both having things that the other wanted. The Vodyanoi had access to the oceans and therefore all the food that was found in the oceans. The cold meant that farming was impossible for the giants and they were unable to build ships to sail because the wood that that would require would not grow and even if it did, the Fomori would simply sink the ship in turn.

But the Fomori hated the Giants in turn for everything that they had that the Fomori did not. The giants had access to the iron, the stone and the metals that are still part of the islands today. No-one knows why they didn't come to some kind of trade deal. There are no records from either race for us to consult and no-one who was around back then still survives to be able to tell us.

It was not a war as we would understand it. There were few battlefields as such, just a long, slow series of skirmishes. One of the few things that we know about the Fomori is that they are cold blooded, so coming to the surface back then would have been intensely harmful to them. They needed the....uh....comparative warmth of the deeper parts of the sea. We would still find it freezing cold and utterly against our abilities to survive. But apparently there are degrees of deadly.

So the Fomori would form raiding parties to attack the strongholds of the giants. The Giants would go to the shores to fish, or dig through the ice to do the same. All the while knowing that they were simply opening up new ways for the Fomorian warriors to attack their holdings as they drilled their fishing holes.

We also know that there was one exception to this pattern. One difference to this normal kind of status of things and that was the battle of Mag Itha which took place on the western Shores of Ard Skellig. Roughly speaking where Clan Drummond used to have it's major harbour. You can't find any signs of it now. Historians, treasure hunters and archaeologists of all kinds, including magical ones have trawled over the field of battle looking for remnants of what had happened. We even know that the Fomori won that battle. Their technological superiority prevailed over the relative barbarism and individuality of the giants and the giants fell back and a Fomori colony was made on the shore.

We also know that this colony failed and we don't know why. It's possible that the cold was just too extreme for the Fomori to survive and so they retreated. It's also possible that the strain of living above the water was too difficult and that the machines that they use to survive on land could not support them during that time. It's just as likely that the Giants reformed and drove them away. Or that Giant attacks rendered the colony unsustainable and that the Fomori simply retreated.

All of these things are possible and there is no way of knowing for certain what happened.

We do know that the next events to take over the land was that the world started to get warmer and the ice that had covered the islands started to melt.

With the rising temperatures, the Giants began to lose their domination of the islands. Gradually their strength became diminished and they fell back and fell back into the coldest areas of the islands. They went up mountains and into caves, surviving on the tundra. There is even a suggestion that this “thawing” is what precipitated the giants descent into barbarism but that is impossible to prove. It is entirely possible that this thawing was precipitated by the Conjunction of the Spheres in some way. Either the one that brought the humans to this place or the one before that. There is no way of knowing.

But the thaw brought other visitors to the island. Led by a figure called Nemedd.

(Freddie: It was pronounced Nemeth. The pronunciation suggests that the origins of the name are Elven in nature)

It is generally believed that Nemedd was an Elf or a Half-Elf. Certainly he counted Elves and humans in his followers. We know this because those Elven ruins that are still here date back to this time and that the humans were left behind after the departure of the Elves.

The retreat of the giants with the retreating snow line had made it easier for the Fomori to pillage and plunder so that when Nemedd landed, he found a group of islands ruled by the Fomori. No-one knows for sure who started the war between the two groups, the followers of Nemedd or the Fomori. Skelligan tradition would have us believe that the Fomori simply attacked out of hand and that would certainly fit with the characteristics of the Fomori race at that time.

The counter to that argument is that Nemedd and his people must have come to the islands by boat or magic. If it was magic then fair enough. But if it was boat, then why did they survive to make it to the islands in the first place? Especially if the Fomori were going to object to their presence.

So God-King Nemedd fought against the Fomori and defeated them in a series of battles. We know that at least two of these battles took place on Ard Skellig, one on Undvik and another on Spikeroog. Again, because historians have found evidence that this was the case. No sooner did the Fomori raise a chieftain or warlord up against Nemedd and his people, than he was destroyed in battle. How many battles there were is unclear but we know that the victories were as decisive as victories can get.

Nemedd ruled over the Skelligan isles for a period of nninty-nine years before he died, thus proving his Elven heritage. The official writings in the Elven ruins that record these events say that he died of a plague that wiped out a significant chunk of his people. It was this event that finally drove the Elves from the islands. Since then, many people have wondered if there was something else going on with the death of Nemedd and so many of his people. We know that the Elves are more resistant to diseases than Humans are and yet this particular plague seems to have targeted the Elves directly leaving the humans relatively free.

Less charitable people suggest that the humans were resentful of Nemedd for some reason and poisoned him and his people. This seems a little foolish to me. Nemedd had proven ability to rule and to hold off the enemy invaders and so why would the Humans wish to overthrow their closest allies. There are many suggestions that present themselves however. The first is that the Elves flaunted their superiority and that they lorded and elevated themselves over and above the humans. This is not outside of the realms of possibility as Elves are known to be arrogant in certain areas. If is also possible that certain factions within the humans decided that they wanted to be self-governing and decided that Nemedd was the obstacle in their way preventing this.

There is also the very real possibility that the humans involved were simply too stupid to see that this would significantly reduce their personal safety. Just as arrogance can be a defining trait of the Elves, so can stupidity be considered a defining trait of Humanity.

A trait that we have not yet been able to remove from our general personality.

There might even have been factions within the Elves that came here. We know from the stories and sagas of the bard that there has been infighting within the various factions of the Elves since before the dawn of our recorded history.

But there is no way to tell.

Instead I prefer the much more likely possibility that the Fomorians, who know more about water and liquids than we could ever even hope to be able to understand, were able to engineer a poison that targeted Elves. So that every time that an Elf took a drink of water, they were, in fact, killing themselves. This would seem much more likely to me. Especially given the relatively short time period between Nemedd landing and his eventual death. I would like to think that even human stupidity and Elven Arrogance would take longer than a few years to come to fruition enough to cause treachery and murder.

So the Elves died or fled and the humans remained to face a new offensive from the Fomori. As led by Coannand and Morc. Two great warriors and generals of the Fomori people. The two of them soundly trounced the human forces and we found ourselves all but enslaved We were forced to give food and metals to the conquerors. We were organised into work camps and any time it looked as though our population would grow to a size that might cause the Fomori any problems, there was a cull for the purposes of “our health and the sustainability of life on the islands.”

There was a rebellion of course. Legend tells of humanity raising a huge army of well over sixty-thousand men. I have little doubt that this number was something of an exaggeration as I struggle to think of a place on all of the islands where sixty-thousand people could stand in one place. Let alone, then have a battle against enough of a force to defeat them. Because, as I say, the forces of humanity were soundly trounced.

These ancient Skelligans spent many centuries under the heel of the oppressors. As I say, the Fomori couldn't maintain too much of a presence above ground due to their inability to breath the air. Instead, they used Humanities factional bent against us.

The Fomori installed a client king above us and gave him rule over the islands. All he had to do was to maintain the payments of the tributes. He had to send the proper amount of slaves to the mines which had to happen as well as the production of the proper amount of ore and stone. But in return for that, the King and his family and friends got to live in relative comfort.

Our Sagas and culture are unkind to these men and for good reason. But I find that I am, at least, a little sympathetic to what they were trying to do. We were a conquered people. There was absolutely nothing stopping them from simply rolling over us and destroying us utterly.

(I looked over at Ciri during this particular piece of the history. I struggle to define what Helfdan was saying as a tale. But I looked over at Ciri and wondered if anything that Helfdan was saying hit home with her. She was a monarch of a conquering people so I wondered how she felt about some of that. She was certainly wearing her serious face and I could see an echo of the Empress about her in the way that she watched Helfdan so intensely. I don't think that she saw me looking though. I hope that she didn't.)

It is easy for me to imagine that some of those men and women, because yes, some of those monarchs were women. But it is easy for me to imagine that they thought they were doing the best thing for their people. They possibly even thought that in performing their duties, they were preventing the Fomorians from wiping our people out. Some of them probably even did their best to alleviate the worst depredations of the Fomori and did their best to stand between the Fomori anger and the people that they “ruled”.

But I also think that there were just as many of those Kings and Queens that did the things they did because they enjoyed the power that it gave them. That they enjoyed the superiority of being able to bully their people and lord it over them. To live in comfort while others toiled away in the darkness.