(Content warning: This chapter contains a scene which involves an autistic person having a meltdown. I'm going to talk about it in the first A/N which carries a bit of a spoiler warning so either read the A/N first and then the chapter, or come back afterwards, up to you.)

(A/N: As I think I said before when Helfdan was first introduced. I actually don't know anyone that is on the spectrum to the extent that Helfdan is intended to be. So I have no measurement of how he measures up on that scale. So what I know about Autism comes from professionals who are trained in what to look for and then trained on how to deal with it. Especially how to deal with it when a person is having a meltdown. The very term “Meltdown” is taken from that training. So in that regard, please don't shoot the messenger.

What happens here and how the relevant characters deal with the situation is based on some of that knowledge.

So first of all, the portrayal of the “Meltdown” is not going to be perfect. I know this because, every person's brain works differently. So what you are reading is my best guess. I am sorry if this is not your experience but it was the best that I could do.

Secondly. The way that the other characters deal with it is based on what I've been told professionals are supposed to do in the event of someone having a Meltdown, but it is not the same as what these people are trained in. This is an active choice. I made this choice on the grounds that our society is far more advanced in their knowledge of how these things work and what we should do in the event of a meltdown occurring than the characters in the story. So what the characters do, is what their best guess is given their knowledge of the person involved.

So please do not take their actions as a template for what to do if you find yourself in this situation. I have run it past people with the necessary training and they agree that it is far from perfect.

If you do want to know how to help someone who is dealing with this kind of thing and would like to know how to help, then firstly I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for that thought but secondly, to seek out advice on how to deal with the situation from the proper professionals.)

(A/N2: Contrary to rumour, I have not given up on this piece. I have just been away for a few days for an unexpected holiday and as such, this chapter was delayed in being produced. Believe me when I say, that you will absolutely know when this is done. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading)

-

It was the cold that eventually woke me.

It was a bitter, creeping thing that managed to tunnel it's way through the clean clothes, salvaged blankets and cloaks that I had formed into a kind of cocoon. A cocoon that I had hoped to emerge from, butterfly like in the morning. But that was not what happened. Instead, the cold had managed to find those few cracks in my defences and worm their way in with small fingers and invisible tendrils.

So I woke up. And tried to deny it with determination and concentration. I tried to convince myself that my body was warm and dry and that I had nothing to worry about. That I should just roll over and go back to sleep. I even tried this very action. But it turns out that willpower is not enough to drive away freezing, supernatural cold.

The act of rolling over opened new chinks in my defences, new ways for the cold to invade my lair. Which made me have to think about trying to correct things, so I tried to move, in order to correct the blankets and things around myself so that I might be warmer. But movement was a mistake because that meant that my body exploded into a sea of pain.

In lying down, on the cold ground, after all of the exertions of the previous day. I was stiffer than a board. It also served to remind me of all the small injuries that I had taken. The gash to my leg, the wound to my arm, the bruises and scrapes and jarred limbs. Saying that I was “sore” was not the word for it. I lay there for a while, waiting for the agony to subside a little to see if that would allow me to return to the blessed release of sleep. But it was not to be.

I was awake now and sooner or later, that simple truth needs to be acknowledged. I was awake and I needed to confront the morning.

Which, of course, was easier said than done. I almost groaned with the effort but I wanted to keep my noises to myself. Judging by the light it was still the early hours of the morning. There was also a certain disconnect which came from being reminded that it was technically, according to the calendar I mean, still the height of summer. Which meant that if the light was telling me that it was still the early hours of the morning. Then it must be really early in the morning indeed.

I managed to make it up to a sitting position and rearranged my cloak and blankets into a more... accessible configuration before starting to massage my limbs while I had a look around.

The fire had begun to burn low now as, presumably, we had run out of driftwood and things to burn. We were a little concerned about the possibility of roving bands of Nilfgaardian sailors so we had decided that it would be unwise to go down to the beach to gather more. It had seemed a little risky at the time but now, I would have gladly undertaken the risk myself despite the fact that I could only move with a kind of geriatric shuffle.

Just about everyone was still asleep, or trying to. I could see Svein was on watch, sitting nearby, staring out to sea with hollow eyes. I briefly considered wriggling a bit closer to the fire in an effort to get some more warmth and trying for a bit more sleep, but it seemed to be a little bit of a wasted effort. Besides, the man might want, or need, a little company.

“Good morning Scribbler.” He told me without looking up.

“Seems a little cold to be a “Good” morning.” I commented.

He grunted at that. “We are approaching the end of the Wave-Serpent's passage now. The cold is reaching it's height. Before long, it will be deadly to sleep outside, even with a fire.”

“Should we build ours up?” I wondered.

“It won't do any good. There is plenty of wood but it won't burn now.”

I looked at him. He seemed a shadow of his former self. As though his entire being had been hollowed out.

“I don't know if I said it before Svein, but I am so sorry for your loss.”

He turned to me and grinned. An echo of his former self was in his eyes. “Not your fault Scribbler so don't even try to take the blame onto yourself. I know a little bit about guilt and I know that you are dealing with your fair share of things at the moment. But Ursa died doing what he loved. So did Haakon for that matter. I just don't know how I'm going to tell their wives is all.”

“I can help provide for...”

“Don't even think it.” He told me. “I know that you're one of the crew now and I'm also dimly aware of just how rich you are. But both of them are proud women and they will not accept charity.”

“I didn't think it was charity.”

“No, but they will.” Svein rubbed his head. “I like you Scribbler, but sometimes.... sometimes you are so very continental.”

I decided not to comment on that.

“Can I at least offer to take over the watch so that you can get some sleep?”

“No,” He told me. “No, I'm not going to sleep tonight. We should all get up soon anyway.”

“It's early.”

“It is, but it's only going to get colder and we should start moving inland. There's a farm a little way off and we can get horses easily enough.”

“How long will it take us to get to Kaer Trolde from here?”

“Couple of days.” He told me. “Normally, it would be a bit quicker. But there's no way that we will be able to go quickly and we will need to stop at an inn tonight so that we can be sheltered from the cold.”

I nodded. There is a reason why travel isn't really done in the middle of the winter, why I hold up in the family castle, in Oxenfurt, or this year where I will be staying in Angral as a guest of my future wife. Not for the first time since the previous day, the realisation that I was still alive and that I was going to remain that way, at least for a while, struck me between the eyes and I sobbed.

“There is no shame in it.” He told me. “There was a moment there, on the Wave-Serpent, when we were charging towards the shore, where it occurred to me that I would never again hear Yngvild scold me for drinking too much. I swear that it was that thought that nearly undid me in the middle of things rather than the thought of dying. And now I will see her and the kids again. It's almost too much to bear as it is.”

He swallowed and stared at his feet for a bit.

“Sometimes, I hate being a survivor though.” He told me.

“How many children do you have?” I wondered. We hadn't spoken of personal things.

“Four. Little bastards the lot of them.” He said it proudly. “Spend most of their days fighting in the muck. Other than my daughter who's going to be a beauty like her mam. You and your woman planning to have kids?”

“I think we'd like to. But there's a certain amount of.... she's a vampire and I'm a human. So....”

“Tricky. Definitely tricky.”

We watched the light grow a little until we could see the beach. The Wave-Serpent was still visible but she was a shell of her former self, just a few blackened and burnt timbers remaining. There was more wreckage from the Nilfgaardian ships and the dawn displayed a horror show of frozen bodies. Some submerged in the ice, some almost at the verge of pulling themselves out. For some reason, the one that got me the worst was a hand that was reaching out of the water near one of the Nilfgaardian timbers. I couldn't tell if it had been severed during the fighting, or had been resting on something, or whether it had been a sailor that had been trapped as the ice and the water had slowly killed him.

I intentionally didn't look at the red ruin that I had wrought in my rampage. It was frozen now and you could see the ice crystals forming. But I didn't want to think about that.

“It's not something that you need to be ashamed of.” Svein told me.

“People keep telling me that.” I told him. “Also, how do you know what I'm thinking? Are you a secret mage?”

He grinned. “It's not a great secret Scribbler. You are just really continental and I can see it all over your face.” He went serious after that. “But seriously Scribbler. You saved us all down there. Including me, my other brother and my Lord. My wife and children were elsewhere, I grant you, but I would not have met them if it wasn't for Helfdan and without Helfdan, Kar would have been dead in a ditch a long time ago. Me as well probably. So me and the lads owe you one, for saving him if for nothing else. We owe you more than we can say.”

“Thank you.”

“But you're still not convinced are you?”

I just looked at him.

“Ah Scribbler. Your parents did a real number on you didn't they. Anger isn't bad. Rage isn't bad. And so long as you use it properly in battle then going berserk isn't bad. It's what you do with those things that matters.”

“Kerrass says the same thing.”

“Wise man that Witcher of yours.”

“But I don't like killing.” I was alarmed at the tears that I felt in the back of my throat.

“Neither do I.” He admitted. “I love the sailing though. I love defeating an enemy and I love the feeling of brotherhood in the shield-wall. I love looking at a battlefield and an enemy force and figuring out how to defeat it. I love forging a group of men into a weapon that my Lord can thrust into the heart of an enemy. If I could do all of that, and not have to kill, then I would throw my axe away in a heartbeat.”

“I used to love the journeying.” I admitted. “I still do sometimes. I like going to strange places and seeing strange things. I like meeting new people and if you took away all thedeath, loss and violence, I would truly have loved spending this time in the islands. I hate that people have died for me though but I have learned so much here. There is so much to see and admire.”

“Do you not enjoy the travelling any more?”

“Not as much. When I used to travel for the sake of travelling, I enjoyed that. There was a peace to that that I liked. But now... That's not what I'm doing anymore.”

“You're a good man Scribbler.” Svein told me after a while, “for a Continental I mean. I very much doubt that you will have another warp Spasm, you are too.... civilised for that. You will avoid it and steer yourself away from it. So I would advise that you do not worry about it. Eat, drink and be merry for today. We are seeing a new dawn and there are enemies to slay and vengeance to be wrought. And for you, a woman to marry.”

He grinned and climbed to his feet. “So go and wake up that Witcher of yours and tell him that I said that he snores. It is time we were on our way.”

Kerrass was not in a good way. He had drunk a significant portion of his entire potion stock during the previous day and he looked ill. The closest equivalent was that he looked as though he was having a particularly bad hangover. He looked like a kind of greenish grey. That he had bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes was a given but he was also pale and clammy. If he was human, I would be concerned that some of his wounds had become infected, or that he had caught something.

In the end, I woke Ciri up instead and between the two of us we got him sat up and some liquids into him which seemed to help.

We were a slow procession as we moved off that small headland of ground. Cold, tired and in more than a little pain. There was no food and so we just had to do the best we could. Many of the rest of the men seemed to share Svein's knowledge about the fact that there was a farm nearby and there was confidence that we would find food and horses there and that Helfdan's word would be taken for that.

Just before we left, Helfdan came over to talk to me. He was carrying the axe that I had used the previous day with such bloody results.

Helfdan wasn't looking great either. He was pale and tired, same as everyone really, but there was a drawn quality to his face. There was movement in his eyes that were darting around as though they were possessed.

“I had one of the lads clean it last night.” He told me. “I don't know what you wanted to do with it but it seemed fitting to me that you should have the chance to decide.”

I looked at it. It was a simple, brutal weapon. It looked like a wood-cutter's axe. A simple half-moon of metal that had been wedged into a wooden pole. A handle had been made out of leather straps and a metal pommel placed on the end. The edge was not sharp and I could see many scuff marks and nicks in the blade. I stared at it for what felt like a long time.

Then I moved.

I spun and hurled the filthy thing out to sea. It was not as dramatic a gesture as I would have liked. It did not go out as far as I would have wanted and it landed on ice rather than splashing in water.

I turned back to Helfdan who was watching me with interest.

“It's not a very good axe.” I told him.

He nodded his acceptance of that and turned away.

Kerrass clapped me on the shoulder as I joined him

As I say, we were a slow, shambling march. Only Thorvald wasn't wounded but he was no longer a young man and the cold was climbing into his joints and making him uncomfortable. We were slow, painfully slow and even though I was frustrated with the mind-numbing lack of speed, I could barely keep up either.

It was so cold. So very cold that jokes about shivering and shaking became redundant. The air seemed to hurt as it entered the nose or the mouth creating an unpleasant pain in the chest where lungs began to freeze. It was the kind of cold that sticks in your mind and that, in the future, people will comment that it's cold outside and I will say, “It might be cold but it's not as cold as it was in Skellige when the Skeleton Ship passed.

Kerrass and I were almost leaning on each other as we went. Ciri helped where she could, but we were not the worst affected by some margin. Kerrass was stronger but his insides were revelling at all the extra toxins that he was still flushing out of his system. Yes, he had drunk the famous “White Honey” potion that removes the toxic effects of the potions, as a kind of catch-all antidote. But what it doesn't do is actively get rid of the herbs and liquids. Those still need to be expelled from the body in the normal way. White Honey helps, but even that can take a bit of time.

So Kerrass was moving with an odd kind of limp. We've all seen that kind of limp before. I have certainly walked that kind of limp after eating a particularly suspect piece of street food, bathed in what was optimistically called “spicy sauce”. Most accurately though, I suspect that it was the same limp that I had walked with back when I was recovering from being poisoned when I was introduced to Ariadne.

It feels wretched and the only thing to do is to laugh at yourself.

I was feeling better as we moved on, the stiffness slowly leaving my limbs with the movement, but it was far from pleasant. That meant that I could feel the injuries all the keener and I hated it. Every waking moment, I hated it.

But as I say, we were not the worst wounded, by any stretch of the imagination and the entire crew was heartsick and impossibly weary with it. Helfdan had put a little fire into our backbones with his eulogy of the Wave-Serpent. But even that fire was sucked away in the face of the morning's cold.

So there was nothing to do other than to force one foot in front of the next and the next and the next and on and on and on.

All the things that we would normally do to pass the time while moving were out of the question. The cold robbed us of voice so we couldn't talk. Singing was even more unlikely and impossible. So all that left us was the slow passage of the road. Even looking out from our hoods was painful as that exposed eyeballs and faces to the cold.

It bears remembering that we had not expected to make it to shore. Also, the fact that a lot of our cold weather gear was lost with the destruction of the Wave-Serpent. So we were wrapped in the rags that we had been able to make out of the clothes of dead men and Nilfgaardian sailors which were not exactly built for warmth.

Our other problem was that we were escorting a prisoner. Some people have suggested that magic is the cure to all ills and they would be right. The mage could have taken us anywhere we wanted to go. He could certainly have cast a spell to keep us all warm as we marched and he could have helped with the healing that still needed to be done. But how could he be trusted? The previous night, after I had passed out from exhaustion, Ciri had spent some time asking the man a series of questions. I have no idea how successful she was in getting answers and I did not ask. I thought that his continued survival was interesting, but he walked with his hands bound behind him with a gag fashioned from some crude rags stuffed in his mouth with some cloth round to keep the gag in. He was followed and minded by Kar who had grinned evilly while playing with a knife. He told the mage that he was only supposed to keep him alive but that that still left him plenty of opportunities for “play”.

The mage went very pale at that and I'm not sure I blame him. Kar was still monstrously upset at the loss of Ursa and his normal, impish humour had a sharper edge to it now that he had lacked before.

I did try again to get Ciri to go ahead of us. As far as we knew, we were out of danger now so there was nothing stopping her from teleporting on ahead and sending rescuers back with warm clothes, hot food and the like but she refused.

“No Freddie. No.”

“Why not?” I wanted it to come out a bit angrier with a bit more force behind it but I was tired, stiff and my mind wasn't entirely working properly. I also think that I was more disappointed by the further delay of warm food and clothing.

“When I return to Kaer Trolde,” She told me with a hard glitter in her eyes. “It will be to confront enemies and I will do so with my friends at my side. I need to know if those Nilfgaardians that attacked us were just a few ignorant merchants that were trying to capitalise on a way to make money. Or were they the tip of the blade, wielded by a treasonous faction? There is no way of knowing who I will be dealing with as I walk through the door. So I want my friends there.”

“Lord Voorhis is trustworthy.” I told her. “I think he loves you a little bit.”

“He does. But he loves the Empress, not me. I have no doubt that he is loyal. None at all. But loyal people have betrayed me before.”

She sighed at a memory and tugged the blanket that she was wrapped in a bit tighter around me.

“I have visions of turning up as I am, asking the whereabouts of Lord Voorhis and being told, “Oh yes he is just through here. Just step this way Imperial Majesty and....NOW. GET HER NOW. STAB HER STAB HER STAB HER.” And things will devolve from there.”

I suppressed a giggle.

“Plus, I'm kind of looking forward to it.” She went on. “Skelligans thrive on drama. Us continental folk tend to prefer more sedate, withdrawn kind of affairs. Grand gestures are only really approved of here and in Toussaint. I want to see that and I think it would be unfair of me to rob Helfdan and the rest of the crew of their thunder. They deserve the drama of their entrance and I am looking forward to seeing it myself.”

She was not wrong and I found an answering hunger in myself as well. I too wanted to see Helfdan standing before the courtroom in Kaer Trolde, before the Queen that he loved and declare those people that had left him to die. To tell her what he had done, what we had done.

A grin plastered itself across my face to answer the one that Ciri had on hers.

The warmth of that thought carried me a little further.

I was very conscious of coming back to life in small ways. It was cold, yes, bitterly cold and to say that I was enjoying it would be inaccurate. It's impossible to enjoy being that cold. But the previous day, the previous morning even, I had been preparing myself to die. There is something that comes with that. You have to lock yourself off from the future, closing yourself off from all the things that you would never get to do. I've talked about that recently so I will not go through that again. Instead, I will briefly speak about what it was like to come back to life. It was occurring to me that I would have things to look forward to. The prospect of seeing Ariadne again was still too big a thought to properly process, but instead, it was small things. I could look forward to sleeping in a bed. Having a hot meal. I could look forward, actively looking forward to being warm again.

I was going to see the sunset and and I was going to sleep and I was going to be able to make plans for the future. That was incredibly powerful a realisation. My brain was still shying away from thinking about Ariadne but I was getting there. Knowing that I was going to be there when Helfdan and his men came home was a powerful energiser.

I was cold. I was freezing cold but I was happy and that was something that I never thought I would be again.

It was several hours before we got to the farm. The sun was well up, the air was clear and I thought that I could literally see the cold hanging in the air like small and tiny ice crystals and wondered if I was hallucinating.

It was not an insignificant place where a couple of families kept the place going. It seemed to mostly consist of sheep and other herd animals but that also meant that they had plenty of wool for the making of clothing.

The Matriarch of the place had gathered all the women folk into a room and were taking the artificial winter as an opportunity in order to spin wool and make clothing out of it in order to sell it during the coming winter. Not a bad business proposition really as there would always be a need for it.

They were happy to see us at least. I got the impression that there was some kind of family relationship between someone from the farm and someone from Helfdan's village meaning that his word was accepted when it came to payment. At first I wondered at this before Svein reminded me that the islands are relatively small and that they take great pride in large family trees that stretch back generations. Therefore it would actually be stranger to find a place where Helfdan didn't have some kind of connection to the people there. The admirable bit, and strange bit, was that Helfdan's word was accepted rather than him just assuming that whatever he wanted was his right.

Which technically it was. He could take and then the farmers would be able to complain to their lords who would take it up with Helfdan and on and on. Clan wars have begun that way.

Apparently.

We were outfitted with warm clothes, supplies, medicine and horses easily and then set off at a relatively gentle trot, my body tingling with the returning warmth and circulation. It hurt, yes it hurt. But at the same time, it was a good pain.

Gradually, as we moved away from the farm with warm clothes, warm fingers and toes which is an under-appreciated luxury and with warm food in our bellies, conversation started to pick up. We didn't want to rush the horses for fear that they would struggle in the cold or work up a sweat which would be almost as bad. We had plenty of time and so we could afford to take our time to get where we wanted to go.

Like me, the others were beginning to pull themselves out of the pit of despair that they had been wallowing in over the course of the previous day and conversation was starting to pick up again. A gratifying sight was when Kerrass started to perk up and sit a little straighter on his horse. The food and ale that the farm had provided was a good beginning to the cure but it would seem he was visibly getting better as we went around.

Like Ciri and myself, people were starting to look forward to what was going to happen when we got to Kaer Trolde.

The road was passing further and further inland and the scenery became more and more rocky. Distance from the ocean meant that we were getting warmer and warmer as time went on with the added shelter of the rocks on either side, which sheltered us from a wind that cut us to the bone. It felt good to be back on the road again despite the fact that it felt as though we were moving ridiculously slowly after a long time spent at sea.

We were gossiping. Svein was holding forth on what we were all looking forward to and it was a common theme. Something to do to pass the time and make the miles roll past that little bit swifter.

“I'm looking forward to getting home most of all.” He told us in a loud voice so that all could hear it. “Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to helping smash Finnvald's face into the floor and then jumping up and down on the rest until all that remains of him is a kind of wet smear that the thralls are going to have to scrape up with a shovel.”

“That means that there could be more stomping to do though,” Kar put in. “If you can still scrape him up with a shovel then there are still bits of him that are solid. I'm not going to be satisfied until they need a mop to clean him up.”

“You obviously have more energy for this kind of thing than I do,” Svein told him. “I'm also looking forward to watching Ciri...” Now that Helfdan was calling her by her name the rest of the men cottoned on and were following his example “.... do some stomping of her own. And I can't wait to see how that is going to happen. And I can't wait to help her of course. Anything for a shipmate.”

There was some dark rumblings of agreement from the other men. Now that we were ship's crew there had been a slow but definite change of everyone's attitudes towards us. I hadn't thought that there was an “us and them” before as everyone had been so friendly and welcoming. But it had been there and now it was gone. The largest measurement of that was that they had no problem of openly mocking us with much cruder language, whereas before, the mocking was much more gentle. But these men would die for us.

And us for them I suspect. Kerrass especially was deeply moved by the adoption.

“But if we really want to talk about what I'm looking forward to. Really, deep down looking forward to. I'm looking forward to seeing my wife's face again. She's going to be so angry with me, it will be amazing. I can almost feel the ringing slap that she's going to deliver to the side of my face now.” He said it with a kind of erotic and lustful relish.

“Sounds painful.” I commented.

“And it is.” Svein agreed. “But she never understands just how attractive I find her in those moments. Couple that with the fact that she often drags me off to our bed chambers and fucks my brains out. Gods but I love that woman.”

“I'm going to get drunk.” Thorvald told us. “I'm going to wait until the Skeleton Ship has passed and the weather starts to get a bit warmer again. Then I'm going to take several sacks of mead to the shrine and I'm going to drink them all. I'm going to drink and drink until I can't see. Then I'm going to drink some more.”

“You'll pay for that,” said one of the other men that I hadn't really got to know. His name was Udolf Rosycheeks. He got that nickname because his cheeks go red when he gets embarrassed. Not everyone can be called things like Manbreaker, Hardhand, Boarbiter, The Shining, The Fury and the rest. Some of the nicknames were kind of rude and not really meant for polite conversation.

“Nah,” Thorvald responded. “The trick is to keep drinking.”

This comment was met with some laughter. The sound deadened by the fact that it had started to snow. The scenery would be quite beautiful if it hadn't been quite so fucking cold.

“What about you Witcher?” Thorvald called. “What are you going to do?”

“My work is not yet done on these islands.” Kerrass called. He was still coming back to himself really although the hot food and lighter ale had worked wonders. “I have some other things to do after whatever happens at Kaer Trolde happens. And after that.... well.... That rather depends on what we learn in Kaer Trolde and after. I would like to see the passing of the Skeleton Ship though. I've never seen it before and depending on what is decided, I might not get another chance.”

There was some rumbling about that. These men were sailors and the Skeleton Ship was their enemy. The original terror of the seas and they had unanimously wanted it gone. One of the benefits of sailing with a progressive Captain.

“Come on Ciri.” Thorvald spoke up again when it became clear that Kerrass wasn't going to say any more. “Let's keep it going. Talking helps the miles pass the easier. What are you going to do?”

She thought about it for a while. “That largely depends on what happens when I reveal that I survived.” She called over her shoulder. She was riding at the head of the column with Helfdan. “It depends on whether this is an Empire wide coup and an attempt to have me killed, or if this is a more localised thing. Also on what our captive friend might have to tell us. But I can't make plans until I know more. I'm kind of half dreading it, half looking forward to the challenge if I'm honest.”

She was grinning. Despite everything, she looked so much better than she had when we had first come to Skellige. There was life in her eyes and face again. Something to mention to Lord Voorhis. Was she only really particularly happy when someone was trying to kill her? Or when she had an enemy to face? Sobering thought.

“What about you Scribbler?” Thorvald called. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm afraid that my life aligns a little with Kerrass. We are not yet done with this thing and I too want to see the Skeleton Ship pass. It is a mourning for the dead that I want to take part in as there are many dead people in my life that I want to make my peace with.”

There was some nodding. Svein who was riding next to me clapped me on the shoulder.

“Beyond that?” I went on. “I'm afraid that my wants are sickeningly romantic. I'm looking forward to seeing my Fiancée again and talking to her.”

There was a chorus of big burly men going “Awwwww,”

“You might want to take a bath first.” Kar suggested. “Cos not being funny Scribbler, but you stink.”

“You're one to talk,” his brother told him.

“I know.” Kar agreed contendedly. “I'm foul. But I'm not the one that's going to be meeting a beautiful woman am I?”

“Fair point.” Svein agreed.

“A Bath and some more hot food does sound good though.” I agreed. “What about you Helfdan? What are you going to do after all this? Other than the new ship I mean. Life is going to be so different for you now what with everyone that has gone and a new ship to build.”

I couldn't have got a more unexpected reaction. Literally the very opposite of what I expected.

Helfdan looked at me, his eyes widening as his mouth began to fall open in a look of increasing horror and incredulity.

He looked.... He looked as though all the years of experience, strength and authority were stripped away from him in a moment. He looked.... This is wrong but it's the closest to how I feel about it. He looked like a terrified child. That sounds really derogatory and I'm sorry because he didn't look like that at all. But it's the closest that I can come to being able to describe what he looked like.

It was the face of a man in the most primal moment of panic, of fear.

“No,” he whimpered. “No, no no no no no no no no no no NO NO”

His hands came off the reins of his horse as his voice got higher and louder. He was shaking and twisting in the saddle in an increasing frenzy.

“Shit,” muttered Svein. I remember hearing his words distinctly over Helfdan's growing distress.

Then Helfdan's horse, not really a riding horse let alone a Warhorse that is trained to be calm amongst people twisting around in the saddle and shouting, sensed the distress of it's rider and threw him. Helfdan crashing to the floor. He shook his legs free of the stirrups and sprinted off, his fists pressed against the side of his head. He had his eyes closed, scrunched tight like... Dammit, I really hate to use this word..... like a child denying the nightmare.

“After him lads.” Svein snapped. “Make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Kar, stay with the horses and guard the prisoner. Bring them after.

It was like we were suddenly in a battle. The men reacted exactly the same as if we had been ambushed. I was frozen in shock before Kerrass, who had come off his horse almost as quickly as Svein had yelled at me in an almost hushed voice.

“Come on Freddie.”

I tugged my spear off the horse that I was riding and went with Kerrass. I looked for Ciri and she was running with Svein, her face was pale with her mouth in a line of focus and... I think... distress.

We ran after the fleeing man. It was not that hard. He was going quickly but in bursts and not in a straight line. He looked like he was shaking his head in accompaniment to the negatives that floated over the air towards us. Thorvald and Udolf sprinted ahead, trying to get in front of him while Svein and Ciri were on the one side of him, Kerrass and I on the other.

“What is happening Kerrass?” I asked as we waded through the thickening snow-drifts, but Kerrass didn't answer.

We were heading up a rise, gently climbing up towards the summit of a small hill that was covered in trees and loose rocks. I have no idea what was beyond that. Udolf and Thorvald seemed to get there though and look over the edge before turning and yelling. Helfdan heard this and screamed, putting his hands, that were still clenched into fists, over his ears and turned away.

“I don't understand,” I said to no-one in particular as Kerrass and I found ourselves in the rear of the formation. Svein looked calm. Worried, but calm and I took my lead from him. Kar was coming up behind us although he didn't seem to be in too much of a rush. He had tied the mage more securely to the back of one of the horses before bundling them all together. Dragging them along with his own horse.

Helfdan was running further into a small collection of trees where he abruptly just seemed to fell over. He was still screaming. He curled his legs up under him and was kneeling down, screaming at the world as though he could force the entirety of existence away with the power of his voice. Then he shuffled, pushing the snow and the other detritus of the trees away from him, the loose branches and the dead leaves and things before he just knelt there and screamed.

Then he stopped. Just like that. Svein made some hand gestures and we started to creep slowly towards Helfdan.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

When we got there, Helfdan was kneeling in the middle of the small circle that he had formed of things, with his thrashing about. He had curled into as small a ball as he could, his eyes were scrunched tightly shut and he was breathing heavily, sweat pouring off him.

Svein nodded and beckoned us all over.

“Right lads.” He spoke very quietly. Not a whisper but in that tone of voice that adults use after the kids have gone to bed. “You know what to do.” The other veterans of the Wave-Serpent started spreading out. They made a show of picking up firewood and picking berries and things. Kar had arrived with the horses now and he spread them out between the road and the small patch of woodland where Helfdan was.

It took a moment to realise what was happening. We were screening Helfdan from the road. And we were doing so silently.

“What do you need us to do?” Kerrass asked Svein while I watched the others do their thing.

“Nothing.” Svein told him with a sad smile. “Not that anyone is going to be watching us but you never know. And anyway, this isn't about us at the moment. No, pretend you're the strangers that you are and that you're consulting with me. It would make sense to anyone watching that that is what you are doing.”

“Ok. But what are we doing?” I asked turning back to the conversation. “What did I say? What did I do? I am so sorry but I don't know...” I was surprised at myself. I was almost frantic with the worry of the thing. My solid future full of things to look forward to had been wrecked by what I was honestly worried about was a careless word from me. A careless question but at the same time, how could I have possibly known what was going on.

“Hey hey Scribbler,” Svein clapped made calming gestures with his hands. “You weren't to know.”

Then he looked over at his Lord who was still on his knees. “He gets like this some times. I don't know what else to tell you.”

Helfdan screamed again. We all looked over at where Helfdan was frantically brushing some snow of him that had fallen from the canopy of the trees. Because of the suddenness of the cold weather, the trees hadn't shed all their leaves yet which meant that there was still a thick covering of snow over the tops of the forest canopy. Some of it had been shaken loose by the passage of.... something. It might have just been the wind, but some snow had been blown onto Helfdan's back and he was frantically trying to brush it off. He looked in pain.

“Shouldn't we help him?” I wondered, taking half a step towards him, half pulling the blanket from round my shoulders to go and wrap him up warm. He had shed his own blankets in his run and fall from his horse and I couldn't help but think that he must be freezing.

But Svein held me back.

“We are helping lad.” He told me. “We are helping. We're protecting him from strange eyes. Not that he needs to worry about that but when he comes back to himself, he will be monstrously embarrassed. And that is reduced if we can look him in the eye and tell him that we protected him from that.”

“But he must be freezing cold.”

“And he is. He will be able to explain it better in a couple of days time but he once told me that when he's in this state, even the softest of silks is like being wrapped in razor-blades and being dragged through wet sand naked. If we wrapped him in a blanket then he would scream as though we were attacking him. He would fight us. He would fight us if we tried to talk to him. He would fight us if we got too close. To be honest, he's doing well not to have ripped his clothes off by now.”

“Damn.” I said. My heart was aching. He looked to be in so much pain.

“He used to do this when we were children.” Ciri spoke up suddenly. Her face looked haunted. “We would be in the middle of some game which, given Helfdan's strangeness, would often devolve into people teasing and mocking him. Then he would throw himself flat and thrash about screaming.”

She sighed and rubbed her head with her palm. “We used to laugh at him. I remember it looking so funny but then he just wouldn't stop. We would continue to laugh at him for throwing a childish tantrum and that only seemed to make it worse.”

Svein nodded. “He calls it “The price he has to pay”.”

Helfdan's screaming subsided as he got rid of the snow and he went back to kneeling and staying still.

“I remember this one time.” Ciri took up the story again. “It got so bad, he just wasn't stopping. He just would not stop screaming and thrashing about until it stopped being funny. He was literally hurting himself as he lay there thrashing about. We were worried that he was going to drown in the mud so Hjallmar, Finnvald and a couple of the others tried to restrain him to get him to calm down.”

“He will have gotten even more violent.” Svein told her.

“He did.” Ciri looked over at the tall, older man. “He did exactly that. He broke Finnvald's lip and kicked Hjallmar in the ribs so hard that Hjallmar lost his temper and beat Helfdan badly, until a couple of the others managed to pull him off. Cerys, who had been playing nearby as she was much younger than us.” She smirked at herself. “All of a year younger than me but I got into just as much trouble with the older boys which grouped me with them rather then her. I used to think that that made Cerys cowardly but now I would think that she was much more sensible. But anyway. She had run to get the priest that had taken Helfdan in and looked after him.”

She shook her head.

“I remember being as angry as Hjallmar that my friend had been beaten by strange little Helfy so that when the Priest turned up, picked Helfdan up, slapped him so hard that Helfdan was literally dazed unconscious. When all of that happened, I honestly felt as though he deserved it for acting like a child. Then the priest took him off to the shrine and whipped him for attacking the son of the Jarl.”

Silence fell over all of us for a moment after that.

“Flame.” I swore.

“I remember thinking that the priest was right.” A small tear ran down Ciri's face at the memory. “We were all sullen with our self-righteousness. I remember being so sure that we were in the right, that we had done nothing wrong.”

“You were children.” Svein told her, putting an arm round her shoulder and squeezing her in a quick hug. “I don't judge you as I would almost certainly have done the same at your age and at Jarl Hjallmar's age as well. Helfdan certainly doesn't judge you for it.”

“He said he hated me.”

“Yes he did. But he didn't blame you, or judge you.” Svein told her. “He hated the memory of you. He has never been able to disentangle you from that past. That is all. The memory of everything that happened was too much. He hates Hjallmar too, but he doesn't blame him. They even have a good working relationship. The difference being that you have worked to overcome that past. Hjallmar has not.” Svein smiled suddenly, “And Hjallmar has no easily applicable nick-name that Helfan can use to distance Hjallmar the man, from Hjallmar the memory. I like Hjallmar. I do. But I suspect that if you challenged him on this, he would still think that he did nothing wrong back then.”

“You are probably right.” Ciri sighed.

“Is that why Helfdan is so.... devoted to the Queen then?” I wondered.

“You mean, is that why he's madly, crazily in love with her?” Svein wondered with a glint of mischief in his eye. “I don't know. Maybe partially. He won't talk about it. It's one of the few subjects that he just won't entertain a discussion on is how he feels about the Queen. Everything else, he will answer questions about. But her? I certainly think it might be a factor.”

“I always thought that it was because Cerys is really, really hot.” Ciri said.

We laughed, or rather chuckled quietly.

“Only if you like them thin Imperial Majesty.” Svein told her. “I like a bit more heft to my woman if you know what I mean. Something to grab onto.” His smile faded a little before he spoke again. “There is that and Helfdan is clearly devoted to her but he's also...”

Svein paused while he scratched himself somewhere indelicate.

“He's also a progressive.” He went on. “He thinks logically about things and he has no attachment to the older traditions. He can see the utility in being able to read and write so he doesn't see why there is so much shame attached to it. So when Cerys starts coming out with all the things that she wants to change. Helfdan sees that they make sense and agrees. He has no ties to the tradition of the things.”

“After all, tradition has only ever hurt him.” I was nodding in understanding.

“So the fact that she also showed him some kindness in the past is part of it, but then she goes on to be a good Queen that does and says things that he approves of just makes it even better.”

“And she's really really hot.” Ciri put in looking as though she was feeling better by the moment.

“That helps. But it does not occur to him to be anything other than loyal and honourable so that helps too. Especially when he sees those qualities reflected back at him.”

We all turned and looked down at the quaking man below us.

“So he calls it “The Price”?” I asked. “Why?”

“To get the full answer, you will have to ask him.” Svein told me. “But he seems to think that it is the price that he pays for being as good a Ship's Captain as he is. As good at the politics as he is. This is the occasional price he pays.”

“And you all love him for it.” Kerrass spoke up for the first time. “Because he's different and because he has these difficulties but still manages to be a good Captain and a just Lord.”

Svein looked a bit uncomfortable. “Yes. There are many reasons. I told the Scribbler here the story about my being taken off the streets and given a purpose again. That would have guaranteed my devotion. But this... He works so hard. So hard. He fights every day for being even close to what we would call normal. As I've told the Scribbler. I've served some real shits in my time but Helfdan is the first Lord that I have loved. That he would take on this burden, and see it as a burden, willingly in order to be better at what he does. A thing that he does better than anyone else that I have ever seen.”

We stood in silence for a while longer.

“When does this sort of thing seem to happen?” I wondered. The silence had become oppressive and I began to feel the need to break it up.

“Damned if I know. He will tell you that it happens when he feels as though he's being overwhelmed. It happens when things are getting too much for him. But that doesn't make sense to me. You saw him when we were sailing. Going into battle against the ice giants. Sailing into the storm against the Nilfgaardians where he sacrificed his ship so that just a few of us would survive. A ship that has defined his existence for longer than I've known him. I've seen him in massive ship battles, huge raids and sailing into storms by feel rather than by sight. But he never goes like this at sea.

“I've seen him standing with the Queen with his body between her and potential danger. I've seen him calmly offering advice when everyone else is screaming, shouting and drawing weapons. I've seen him react to violence without a thought. All things that I would think are overwhelming. And he just rolls them off like they don't matter. Then suddenly, someone will crack a joke, or ask him a question,” he gestured at me, “or otherwise do something else and he goes to pieces. He struggles with trade. There's a reason why I run and organise the land battles. Because he can't cope and he gets overwhelmed and then.... this happens.”

He shrugged. “It happened once with a woman. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid and so we saw to the matter. He's no virgin and has been with women before and since. But one night he started losing his shit.”

He shrugged. “I can't find a pattern to it and I've given up looking. He also says that he can sometimes head it off. If he feels as though he's getting overwhelmed then he can find some solitude and calm down. That's what his hut is for in the woods near our village.”

“But when this happens and he can't keep on top of it?” He shrugged. “All I know is that he gets upset and will then flee to a place where he feels safe, or at least safer than he had. During which even small noises feel as though he is being screamed at it from all sides. Even the lightest touch feels as though he's being punched in the face. The wind feels like a knife blade against the skin which is why I think he fled to the shelter of the trees. He's struggling to get away and to calm down. He'll come out of it eventually, and he'll be a bit vacant and oddly relaxed afterwards. Much more laid back and tightly wound at the same time. He once told me that the aftermath of one of these is actually quite pleasant. When he's in the most control of himself.”

“He's purged his system.” Kerrass put in. “Like flushing your system of all the toxins. When you're body's enjoying getting used to having no shit in your veins.” He nodded. “I can relate to that. I find it kind of...”

“Svein,” Helfdan called quietly.

It was time for even more defiance of expectations. Svein did not rush down to the kneeling form of his lord where that lord was shivering in the snow. He did not call for blankets or the horses. Instead, he calmly and slowly walked towards Helfdan, thumbs tucked into his belt.

Helfdan himself was still kneeling in the dirt. He had his hands flat on his knees as he knelt, sitting on the backs of his feet. He still had his eyes closed though but he seemed calmer, there was no force trying to keep those same eyes closed, They were just closed, like a man waiting to drift off to sleep.

Svein moved so that he was in Helfdan's eye line, waving Ciri and I back as we both went to follow.

“I am here Helfdan.” Svein said softly, surprising me again. It was rare that I ever heard Svein call Helfdan anything other than “Lord” or “My Lord.” or “Captain” when on the ship.

“Where am I?” Helfdan asked in a quiet voice.

Svein waited a few moments before he spoke up. He was nodding according to his own rhythm and I wondered if he was waiting for something that I could not see. Some kind of visual clue that was hidden from us.

“You are just off the road.” Svein told his Lord. I noticed that he didn't say “we” or “The group,” or any other kind of pluralisation. “You are just inside a small group of trees a few minutes walk off the road between Holmstein and Kaer Trolde. About a day south of Kaer Trolde itself.”

Helfdan nodded and seemed to need a few moments to take that in.

“You are freezing.” Svein told him gently. “May I have someone bring you a blanket at least?”

Helfdan considered this for a long moment. A very long moment to someone who was gripping the sides of his own cloak and pulling it tightly around himself. “A soft one.” He said after a long while. His voice sounded like that of a child.

Svein nodded and gestured. “Thorvald is going to bring you your cloak and a blanket. So that's who the next footsteps that you hear will belong to. He is walking through snow which is what the crunching noise is.”

Helfdan nodded at that.

Thorvald, like Svein, moved down towards Helfdan without rushing. He didn't take his time but nor did he rush. He also didn't wrap Helfdan up himself, instead he handed the cloak and blanket to Svein who wrapped his Lord up in the garments. Helfdan flinched at every noise.

“So I'm going to put this cloak on you now Helfdan, just wrapping it round your shoulders like this. Then I'm going to tug the hood up and then I'm going to wrap the blanket round you.” He kept up a small commentary of actions and movements. Just small things as he moved and talked. Then he returned to a crouching position near Helfdan but in his line of sight as he went back to waiting for Helfdan to recover.

“I had no idea,” whispered Ciri. “No idea at all.”

“No-one ever does.” Kerrass told her. He seemed deeply moved by the entire situation and as he looked down at the stricken Helfdan, he had an expression of almost reverence on his face and an utmost respect. I was surprised. There are men that Kerrass respects but this was something else. He has no problem at all acknowledging those people whose skills and abilities are different to his own. He has no problem deferring to me when it comes to matters of Courtly intrigue, commerce or politics. Nor does he have a problem when deferring to people like Shani when it comes to matters of healing or Rickard when it comes to military tactics and strategy.

He defends his own areas of expertise fiercely and disdains anyone who tries to tell him how he should be doing his job and as a result, he likes to pay others the same courtesy and respect. But this looked closer to admiration.

Helfdan spoke again. He seemed to take a deep breath.

“What do we do next?” He asked Svein.

I gave up my own expectations then. I had been wrong so often in these moments. It was clear that whatever was going to be said by Svein was not what was going to happen. You can all imagine what might be said. Maybe it would be something about heading to Kaer Trolde to take our vengeance against those that had wronged us. Maybe it would be something about having a new ship built or going back to Helfdan's old village for some rest or something else.

“We are going to get you on your horse again.” Svein told him. No reasons or explanations as to why we might be doing this thing or that thing. Just a plain old statement of fact. He spoke clearly and carefully, choosing each word individually and not leaving anything out. “Then we are going to set off at a gentle walk, continuing on our way towards Kaer Trolde which was our original destination...”

As though Helfdan might have forgotten, I noticed.

“In a few hours we will come to the inn of the Queen's head which you always enjoy. We will get you a bath and something to eat which will probably be some of that roast boar in honey and rosemary that you normally like. Then we will get you packed off to bed in the attic room that you prefer so that you can hear the wind. If you feel the need, you know that Gyrd is very fond of you and will come and keep your bed warm for you at the least. Even to just hold you and keep you warm during the night.”

Helfdan nodded again when it was clear that Svein had finished talking.

There was another long pause. Snow had started to fall again and it was as though the world had come to a halt while we all waited for a Lord of men to come back to himself.

Helfdan nodded and opened his eyes.

He flinched at first despite the relatively subdued light underneath the trees but gradually he forced his eyes open again. Then he nodded and held out a hand so that Svein could help him back to his feet. He wobbled at first but found his balance relatively quickly.

Ciri went to embrace him. But Svein waved her back again as Helfdan tottered out to where the horses were waiting. Svein followed close behind, hands out and ready to catch should the lord stagger.

Kar was waiting carefully with the other horses and our captive. Svein provided a boost but it was as though Helfdan had lost a lot of his former coordination and it still took a couple of attempts to get him back in the saddle. When he was there though, Svein and Kar fussed over him a little to make sure he was secure. They had to tuck his feet into the stirrups and arrange his weapons around himself. I did wonder why they didn't take the sword belt off him until Kerrass pointed out that the sense of familiar weight might help.

Another blanket was produced and wrapped around the now properly shivering Helfdan, the lead rope for his horse was passed to Svein and we all set off again. Back on the road.

We were a subdued group at first, riding in silence and it was Svein that forced the break in the silence. He cracked a joke of some kind. A nice gentle one about horses I think, the most basic of basic humours and people started to laugh. The cloud that had fallen over the group started to lift and we were riding along in fairly good humour.

But I couldn't take my eyes off the Lord that was no longer at the head of the column.

As Svein had said, we came to an inn and Svein told us that we were stopping there for the night. It was still early though and I did wonder if this was a problem.

“Truth is that we were probably going to have to stop here anyway.” Svein told me. “We might have made it to the next inn down the road but that could have gone either way if we're being honest with each other.” It means that we'll have a tough day tomorrow as there aren't any inns on the approach to Kaer Trolde, so one way or another, we have to make it to Kaer Trolde tonight. If we try to spend another night outside then we'll freeze to death. Not how I want this to end.”

“I have to ask though...” I began.

“I want to get him inside.” Svein said. “He'll be alright but he needs the familiar around him now. Simple food that he's had before. Plain drink and a nice woman to keep him warm. He'll probably wake us all up in the morning but for now...” He sucked his teeth as he thought about how to proceed. “You're a travelling man Scribbler. You know what it's like, you get to the end of a journey where you've been in strange parts and taking part in strange customs. You've been eating strange food and sleeping in fancy beds. Sooner or later you just want some simple food, a simple bed and a mug of ale don't you.”

The question was rhetorical but I answered it anyway. “I do.”

“Or even better than that. You've been making loads of really complex and tricky decisions with moral consequences and then, sooner or later, you just want a nice simple fight where that guy is the bad guy and you get to smash him in his stupid face.”

“I certainly know how that feels.” I admitted.

“It's like that only, if anything, more extreme. He's had enough. He's just had enough. He wants us to take over and make his decisions for him. Just for a bit, no more than a day usually. But just for a bit, he doesn't want to be in charge. He wants to be looked after.”

He stomped off to hammer on the door to the inn. The innkeeper had clearly barricaded themselves into the building to help keep the warm inside. There was much grumbling and swearing as boards were levered off the doors and things were moved away. But then the door opened and the innkeeper saw who it was then all seemed alright.

Horses were seen to and kept inside the barn where they were warm and dry, captive was dumped in the corner where one of the innkeeper's sons watched him with a nasty looking meat cleaver. We rubbed the horses down, wrapped them up and made sure that they were well fed before we saw to our own needs.

Then, mercifully, we all came indoors.

After the fashion of Skelligan inns there was a large fire pit in the middle of the room that was being used to roast the meat. The inn seemed to be a family run business by the father, mother, Aunt and a number of sons and daughters. There was a bathhouse out the back of the building and when we all got back inside, Helfdan was already being taken care of out there and Svein told us to leave him to it for a while.

I didn't complain. There was hot food and mulled wine to warm even the most frigid parts of my body. After a while, Helfdan came back into the room looking much closer to his own self. He was dressed in a simple shirt and plain pair of trousers and went barefoot where he was placed at a clean table towards the back of the room.

He was attended by one of the elder daughters, a tall strong looking woman who seemed to carry her own sadness with her in some way that I could not define. She fed him, fetched him drinks and saw to his needs. On those times when he looked as though he might be getting a little distressed, she wrapped her arms round him gently. Somewhere between what a mother might do and what a lover might offer to a person in distress.

“He's embarrassed.” Svein explained. “He hates this part of himself and resents the time that it takes to recover from this kind of thing. He wants to bounce back to his feet and get on with things.”

“But that's impossible.” Kerrass was nodding. Svein was sat with Ciri, Kerrass and I as he seemed to feel a need to explain everything to us.

Svein grunted in agreement to what Kerrass said. “In all truth, he's still coming back to himself a bit. And he's assailed by all the memories of all the past times that this has happened to him and all the problems that it's caused. That's why he's getting upset.

“Who's the girl?” Ciri asked.

“That's Gyrd.” Svein told us. “For reasons that I've never understood, he finds her comforting in some way. When he gets like this there are a couple of people about who just seem to be able to calm him down and make him feel safe. But she's like the cooling salve on burned flesh to him. In every way that everything and everyone else is abrasive and painful to him right now, she is calming, soothing and loving. I don't know why. Sometimes they love each other, sometimes they just sit and hold each other. Or sit and talk.”

“Who is she? What's her story?” Ciri asked again.

“She's a daughter of the place. I always got the feeling that she was a little lost herself. Helfdan was already fond of her when I met him and I often thought that she was his first lover, or first love. I always suspected that she was trying to get him to marry her until one day, she herself told me to stop worrying about it so I think the truth is more complicated than that. I think that there is love there but not... there is love but no passion. Friendship with affection. But she heals him in some way that I don't really understand.”

“I get it.” I told him. I was remembering the time after Amber's Crossing when I had been so ill. Specifically I was thinking of the unnamed Blonde woman who came to me in the cold light of dawn and healed my soul with gentle gasps and soft moans. How she reminded me how to live my life and what joy could still be felt in the world.

I lowered my head in the memory.

I missed Ariadne.

Helfdan retired early, Gyrd taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairs towards the back of the inn.

The rest of us stayed up late. Not really that late but because of the artificial drop in temperatures for the time of year, it felt like we stayed up a lot longer than we should have. But there was a reluctance for us to go to our beds. Ciri was given a cot where she shared a room with some of the other women that worked at the inn while the rest of us took what rooms that we could, or just found a patch of ground that looked vaguely comfortable and slept on that instead.

It might sound rough and ready but the truth was that the warmth seeped into our bodies and our souls so that we could almost feel our bodies relaxing. And I for one was enjoying that feeling. Looking back, I almost think of it like some kind of extension of our coming back to life after being so sure that we were all going to die. The slow, creeping realisation that death was no longer certain to happen in the next few moments, so we could take our time, savour the flavours of the food and the drink and enjoy the company of friends without the overwhelming pressure of knowing that this might be the last meal that I got the chance to eat, or the last time that I would ever get the chance to spend some time with these men.

Kerrass and the others felt much the same way. Kerrass spent some time discussing what was going to be traditional for what would happen should a member of the ship's crew get married. Ciri wasn't interested as she was going to be part of whatever bridal party that Ariadne put together and as a result, didn't really want to discuss what was happening with whatever it was that Kerrass had in mind for me. But the impression that I got was that there would be so much alcohol floating around that my “stag” party would probably need to be organised to take place a good month before the wedding itself in order to ensure that all participants would be able to recover in time for the ceremony.

Whatever else would happen. It was decided that the men of the Wave-Serpent would be part of my personal honour guard when it came to the wedding. I did try to talk about Sir Rickard and the surviving bastards and what they would want to do but Svein shrugged and told me that they would be welcome too. Even though Svein couldn't read, I got the impression that he was well aware as to who Sir Rickard was and that there was some kind of respect going on there. I didn't go into it.

Mostly though, it was a time where the men could enjoy themselves at my expense. We couldn't set anything in stone, not least because Helfdan would need to be involved in anything that was decided but also because it was almost certain that Queen Cerys would be invited to the wedding in some way and we were unsure how that would affect things.

But Kerrass, Svein and Thorvald seemed to spend an awfully long time sat in the corner of the inn, cackling with each other over whatever they had in mind.

I spent most of that evening enjoying the fact that I could breathe in and out. I had also been assailed by a strange sense of guilt at the memory of what had happened. I remembered the people that had died and wondered how I had managed to survive and they had died. But also, it had not occurred to me before that I should feel guilty over the woman that had completed my healing all that time ago. But now I regretted not taking the time to, at least, learn her name. Seeing the early winter sun reflected off her skin is one of those memories of my early travels that I hold close to my heart. In my most introspective moments, I wonder if I would be who I am today if she hadn't intervened in my recovery.

So I spent a lot of time staring into the hearth fire watching the flames dance. My body was tired. I was tired and I knew that what I should be doing was going to sleep. We would be arriving at Kaer Trolde at some time tomorrow and I had the sinking sensation that I would need my wits about me when that happened. But I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to enjoy that most strange of sensations. Being warm and dry.

Eventually though, I could no longer keep my eyes open and I went to sleep on a nearby bench. I wasn't the last person to go to sleep, but I was far from the first. Kerrass and Svein stayed up long into the night.We rose slowly. Not just in individuals but as a whole, we were awake early but there is a large difference between being awake and actually being useful.

I know that I, for one, didn't want to be pulled out of my blankets. The sheer luxury of being warm and not waking up cold was something that I decided that I could get used to. Not for the first time, I decided that when this was all over, I would go home, hang my spear up above the castle hearth and not move again until it was time to get married. I knew that I would never do that. That I was a long way away from being able to do precisely that, but right then and there....

I climbed to my feet and the innkeeper and his wife produced water that we used to clean ourselves up. Food was brought, hot drinks were made and we started to get ready for the last stages of our journey.

It was another psychological thing. I was well aware that the journey wasn't over. After Kaer Trolde and telling the assembly there what we knew, it would almost certainly involve a horse ride to the druid's sanctuary and back again at the very least. But it felt like something was coming to an end.

Helfdan came down eventually. He looked... a little strange. To all intents and purposes he was himself again. Dressed as he ever was on those occasions when we had been on land. He was maybe dressed a little warmer than he had been but that was the only real difference. He had the same attitudes about himself, he moved in the same way, the slightly spread stance with the rolling kind of walk that betrays a sailor to anyone who knows what to look for.

What was different was that he seemed a little... relaxed... No that isn't quite the right word.

Ok, this is another of those explanations that might take a while in order to get it entirely right.

Everyone has a friend who is wound tight. Maybe a little bit too tight for their own good. Those of us that know this person might say things like “That person needs to get laid” or a much cruder variation on that. Or we might say, “That person needs a good stiff drink,” or “He needs a holiday,” or variations on that theme. Someone who looks as though they're all... tight, clenched up like a fist. Those people that live for their jobs often get like this. When they can't possibly see their way free of doing their job and have forgotten how to live their lives away from the job itself.

Apparently, I used to get like that in the lead up to big examinations and the final submission of my thesis. Over the weeks and months leading up to the thing, people would be getting worried about my health, telling me that I needed to take a break. But even when I went to the pub or to the theatre or took part in any of the other social activities that my friends would organise, I would still be thinking about the revision that I would be taking part in. I would still be tweaking my thesis in my head and as such I would not be able to relax.

Then there comes a moment after the exam or crisis has passed where you're still pinwheeling. Where you don't know what to do other than to keep revising, keep studying, even though the exam is long past and you know that you have succeeded in what you have to do.

Then you stop.

I am also reminded, now that I sit here writing this all up. That after I had my heart to heart with Kerrass underneath a rock in the North of Redania. There was a day or two where I felt kind of empty. Hollowed out would be another term. Where I felt that rest was that little bit easier and I could feel all the tension slowly draining out of my body. Where my brain was well aware of everything that had happened to it and it was just the body that needed to come to terms with everything that had happened.

I wonder if that was what it was like for Helfdan. I have no way of checking and I doubt that there is a common frame of reference.

Svein had another theory. He theorised that Helfdan was like a cup. That the world was constantly trying to fill the cup with water and that Helfdan himself was constantly trying to drink the water from the cup. Some circumstances meant that the water was poured quicker and helfdan was better able to drink. Other times, the water came quicker and Helfdan would be left almost drowning. But when one of these “incidents” or “bouts of illness” were upon him. Then the cup became empty...

He described it as though Helfdan had hurled the cup against the wall in a fit of rage. Again, blame him not me.

…. and for a while there, Helfdan didn't need to worry about having to drink the water. He could take the time to relax and look about himself.

I have no idea whether or not this was how Helfdan felt about the entire situation as I never asked him. It struck me as rude in some way although again, looking back, I had no problems asking questions of Svein on the subect. But that was what he looked like when he came downstairs that morning. He was like a man who had been too wound up for too long and had gone out and gotten drunk. Or had told his boss or master to shove it up their ass and is now wandering around in a daze.

He was a little quicker to smile at a jest. Those smiles were a little broader. He seemed a little more emotional to my eyes even though I can't really say that one way or the other.

He looked good with it.

We didn't want to leave that inn. The short time that we were there was a break from the rest of the world. As though it was a small holiday. A little pocket realm where the rest of the world was kept away from us and the problems that we were up against seemed a long way away, small and petty.

But we went out, mounted up with some fresh supplies and the best wishes of the innkeeper and his wife. Both of whom gave Helfdan a hug as he mounted up and led us away.

Gyrd was nowhere to be seen. Again, the similarities between Gyrd and that unnamed blonde struck me. The Blonde had also not come to see me off when I left that city behind to resume my travels with Kerrass.

There is a lesson there somewhere and I have no idea what it could be.

We rode north. We had started late but Svein told us that there was nowhere to spend the night between where we were and Kaer Trolde so it would be dark and bitterly cold before we came to the keep. Helfdan spent that morning talking to Ciri, Svein and myself. He seemed to want reminding of everything that had happened over the past few days as well as some strategy and thinking for when we would finally get there.

It was almost as though he was reminding himself as to what was going on.

We rode but we could not keep up too fast a pace. A night's rest in the warmth with hot food and proper clothing had done us a powerful good but the cure was not yet complete, nor would it be for some time, maybe not ever. So we went on, not as fast as we would have wanted, but faster than was probably entirely clever. The weather was a factor as well. Even though it had seemed impossible that such a thing could be managed, it actively got colder. And just when we thought it couldn't get any colder, it seemed to get colder again.

As I think I've mentioned before, to get to Kaer Trolde you have to ride through a series of gorges to get to the gate of the town. These gorges are formed with huge, towering cliff faces on either side. All of which were becoming cold and icy in their appearance, but those gorges created another problem. That problem being that they created wind tunnels. These tunnels would conspire into making sure that the wind could be blowing at us from what felt like all directions. And the wind brought the snow and the ice with it.

There is a myth, when people talk about cold weather, they say things along the lines of “It's too cold for snow to fall.” This is a myth. It is wrong. It is not too cold for snow to fall. What you are missing is that sometimes, snow brings ice with it. Not freezing rain. But literally falling ice.

I don't know if this was a side effect of the Skelligan isles when the Skeleton Ship is passing. But I do know that that snow was being blown into our faces and it was freezing cold. The pleasure of the previous evening was long behind us, conversation was impossible as we moved through those towers of rock and ice and we became our own little bubbles of warmth and misery. I knew it was bad when we all had to be tied together so that we couldn't get lost in the middle of the blizzard. Looking back, I don't think that there was really much danger of that, but the trick is to ensure that you don't leave it too late before tying yourself together with each other and it was certainly getting close to that same temperature.

In the future, when it gets cold, I will say “It's cold. But not as cold as the night we came to Kaer Trolde.”

We almost fell over the town. Suddenly, the wooden wall loomed out of the darkness and we found ourselves in a small cocoon of silence and warmth where we were sheltered from the wind and the snow. I was not the only one that needed to be revived from my stupor of cold determination and the illusion of warmth that I fed myself with.

It was like waking up from a deep sleep. It has been said that we were close to freezing to death and maybe that is true. But all I can say is that. It was like I was being woken up from a pleasant dream and emerging into the cold and unpleasant light of day.

The gate to Kaer Trolde was shut.

It was one of those moments that kind of jerk you back to awareness of what's going on around you. It was that moment where you come back down to the ground with a thump and it all seemed to come rushing back. Everything that we had fought for and worked for and it was coming down to this moment and the gate was shut.

I actively laughed.

Helfdan sighed and gestured. He had not lost his almost relaxed sense of life. Out of all of us, barring Kerrass, I think he was the least affected by the cold.

Svein saw the gesture, dismounted and walked to the gate before hammering on it with his fist. Then he waited for a while before hammering on it again.

Then he kicked it.

Then he struck it again with his other fist.

Torchlight appeared moving down the wall from where I knew the guardpost was between the gate and the tunnel. A small head appeared and looked over the edge of the wall.

“Ummmm,” the voice betrayed the guards early state of adulthood. Halfway between the voice of a child and the cracking deep voice that he had yet to grow into. “Who goes there?”

I remember that period of my life. It was a time of much unhappiness for me.

“Lord Helfdan of Clan an Craite and...” Svein checked with Ciri who made a negative gesture. “... and his crew.”

The lad laughed. “Lord Helfdan is dead. Begone.” He made an expressively arrogant gesture of dismissal.

“I am not dead.” Helfdan called. “I feel sure that I would have noticed dying. Just as I notice that you are far too young to be left in command of the gates of Kaer Trolde at your age. So go and fetch your commander from the fire bowl next to which he warms his hands.”

“But...”

“I have eight, very cold, very angry people out here.” Helfdan told him. “And if anyone passes the word of my presence to anyone else then I'm going to blame you. You will find my rage rather unpleasant. I will count to twenty.”

“But Lord Helfdan is....” Some instinct in the young man caused his mouth to snap shut and his legs to start moving. We heard footsteps running off.

Helfdan turned to the rest of us. “Well, that went about as well as could be expected.” He was smiling. Helfdan, a man that smiles as little as Kerrass does. It was oddly off-putting and sent a shiver down my spine.

“Ready weapons.” Helfdan said quietly. “Don't draw them yet. But be ready with them.”

There was a general shifting of weight.

“We're not really going to attack Kaer Trolde are we?” I muttered to Kerrass and Ciri. “Surely...”

“Right now, I would not be surprised.” Ciri told me. She was grinning nastily. “And I would help him.”

I considered what she said and realised that I was just as ready as she seemed to be.

More torchlight appeared at the top of the walls.

“Who goes there?” A much more experienced voice shouted down.

Svein audibly groaned. “You know damn well who we are Grimar. You certainly know damn well who I am and who I serve. Open the damn gate.”

“You are dead.” The voice said in wonder. “Are you the spirits of the dead come back to announce...”

“Throw down a damn torch and you can see for yourself.” Svein called up. “We're as real as we get and we are getting angrier by the heartbeat.

Ciri tugged her hood around herself a little closer.

A torch was thrown down which Svein caught, his hand snapping forward to do so. Helfdan pulled his hood back and Svein reached over with the torch that guttered and sputtered in the cold.

“My Lord,” The man on the wall shouted. “We thought... But...”

“Open the gate.” Helfdan said calmly.

“But that's what I'm trying to tell you my lord. The Gate is frozen shut. We will have to throw down ropes so that...”

“We are victims of treachery.” Helfdan snapped. “We have been betrayed by friends and allies. We are not climbing rope so that we can be killed as we reach the top.”

“My Lord.... I swear that...”

“You will open the gate.” Helfdan snarled. “I know, as well as you do that there are hammers next to the gate for precisely this reason. Open the gate.”

“How dare you.” The man shouted down. “How dare you suggest that I would betray and murder you as you...”

“I know who you are and I know who you serve.” Helfdan snarled. Again showing more emotion in those words than he had through the entirety of our time together. “I am Lord Helfdan and I will doubt who I wish to doubt until the Queen tells me other wise. Open the gate or I will have one of my people do it for you. Then you can be the one who must explain to the Queen, and Jarl Hjallmar as to why his gate has been destroyed.”

“We are ordered to keep the gate shut.”

“By whom I wonder.” Helfdan shook his head. “Very well. Kerrass?”

Kerrass dismounted and moved towards the gate like a man with a purpose. He prominently adjusted the straps that held his sword in place on his back and that glinted in the torchlight. He stood before the offending gate, carefully adjusted his stance so that he could strike a suitably dramatic pose.

Then he stopped and turned back to us. “You had better stand back.” He said to us although I noticed that his voice carried to the men on top of the wall. “There might be some flying wood after I destroy the gate.”

“Magic,” came a shout from the wall. I thought it was the younger voice that we had heard earlier.

“Wait.” Called the other voice. “Wait, if you have patience then we will see what can be done.”

Helfdan nodded. “I am low in patience.” He said. “I am cold. But I am also reluctant to breach the gates that my ancestors erected in honour. So I will wait. But I would also suggest that you employ all your men to opening the gate. If one were to sneak off to warn anyone about our arrival then I would be.... displeased.”

“Are you threatening me?” The tone of forced outrage was almost comical. It would have been if I hadn't been freezing my balls off.

“Yes.” Helfdan answered calmly before going on to ignore any further splutterings of indignation.

So we waited. There was shouting and sounds of movement followed by several loud thumps and something that sounded, not entirely unlike breaking glass.

So it was that Helfdan re-entered the city of Kaer Trolde. He did not storm the gates. Nor did he gather a rebellion or anything quite so dramatic and ostentatious according to some of the things that I have since heard said. We dismounted and walked in. We were cold and tired and grumpy.

We led our horses in and turned to go up the stairs to along the top of the wall where we moved in towards the guard post. The man, Grimar, stared at us open mouthed as Svein stood there grinning at him, Helfdan next to him.

“Are you satisfied now Grimar?” Helfdan wondered. “Do you have any more doubts that I might not be who I say I am? Also, I notice that it did not take you too long to “unfreeze” the gate and get it open to admit us into the warm embrace of our clan holdings.”

“But...”

“Mmmm,” Helfdan's eyes narrowed into a flat, unfriendly gaze. “Now where is the boy that first greeted me I wonder? Who was he? Someone's son? A least favourite child sent out into the cold so that you could stay nice and warm beside the fire. I well remember what it was like to be the unpopular person set to guarding the gate at the time of the Skeleton Ship.”

There was a slow rage in Helfdan's voice. An old anger that had been kindled. I shivered again as the certainty that there would be blood spilled this night.

“What have you summoned?” Helfdan asked him. “What message have you sent?”

“I.... I do not answer to you.” Grimar seemed to find some of his courage.

“No.” Helfdan acknowledged. “No you do not. But I am a Lord and a Huscarl. My word supersedes yours and I gave you an order.”

Death was in that place.

“Helfdan?” an older voice called as pair of horsemen came down the tunnel. “Freya's tits boy but it really is you?”

An old warrior with white hair and a long white beard came off the horse and walked over to where we all stood.

“Gods boy but you're a sight for sore eyes. When this little tyke was caught abandoning his post,” the boy that we had spoken to earlier was tugged forwards by one of the other riders, “I just had to catch him and find out what this was all about before I hang him.”

“But I was ordered to....”

“Do not listen to him.” Grimar protested. “I gave no such orders. He snuck off when...”

“Oh shut up Grimar. I grow weary of your lies.” The old man said before coming over to Helfdan. “Gods boy but it's good to see you.”

“And you Lord Gudavsson.” The two men embraced. Much to my astonishment.

“Who's that?” I muttered to Svein.

“Lord Gudavsson was Helfdan's original Lord's younger brother. Uncle to Dreng.” Svein whispered. “He left home when there was no land to be had and signed onto Clan An Craite's standing guard and is now one of the Lords of the Watch. He's Helfdan's equivalent in rank but with no land and his position cannot be passed on to his children. You have to earn a place in the guard.” He replied. “No, I don't know why Helfdan lets himself be hugged by him and no-one else either.”

Lord Gudavsson was taking command of the situation. “In future lad,” he was saying to the younger man who was being clapped in irons. “Do not try to sneak past old soldiers who have forgotten more about guarding fortresses than you will ever know.” Then he turned to Grimar. “Grimar, you are under arrest on my authority until Lord Hjallmar has time to judge this matter.”

Grimar protested, because of course he did. Gudavssson was unmoved as he turned to one of the other horsemen that had followed him down the great tunnel of Kaer Trolde and ordered him to take command of the gate.

“Now then Lord Helfdan.” Gudavsson might have given just a little emphasis on the title. “What's all this about? You've been dead for several days.”

Helfdan considered this. I noticed that he was still calculating despite his obvious trust and liking of the newcomer. Then he spoke. “With all respect Lord Gudavsson, I am tired and would wish to tell this story as few times as possible. My men have travelled far and have been through much hardship and I would get them inside where it is warm. May I ask what our reception is likely to be?”

“Ummm, astonishment I should think. Do you have....?”

“I will answer to the Queen on that matter I think.” Helfdan interrupted.

Gudavsson frowned, his own eyes narrowing. “Very well. Then I shall come with you in order to prevent any other unpleasantness.”

“Are we under guard or under escort?” Helfdan asked.

“Escort I think, no-one has told me not to.” Gudavsson told him.

“What is happening up at the keep at the moment my Lord?” Svein asked as we started moving up the hill.

“Oh,” Gudavsson grinned suddenly. “Lord Finnvald is telling the story of how you became ambitious and got the Empress of Nilfgaard killed in charging into foolish battle against the Frost Giants. About how your negligence and stupidity got your men killed and about how you betrayed everything in an effort to make your name. It's a good story and he tells it well.”

“That's interesting.” Svein said to no-one in particular.

“Brought a tear to my eye.” Gudavsson declared happily. “Especially the way he tells about how reluctant he was to leave you there but had to escape to save his men and bring word of your betrayal back to the Queen and the Jarl. As well as your negligence in getting the Empress of Nilfgaard killed.”

Helfdan considered all of this before abruptly climbing back on his horse.

“I think I would like to hear this story being told.” he decided.