A week went by. Tedious and boring, as Momo and Rancour studied Domesday and The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, getting a lay of the land, and learning valuable information about where they were and where they could go to bring justice and revenge upon all. Of particular interest to them was the unknown leader of York, whom was rumoured to possess ‘otherworldly’ power.
“Perhaps he is someone who could be of some significance to us.” Rancour suggested as they read reports into the unnamed nobleman.
“How would a mystic be significant to us?” Momo asked, scoffing.
“He could help us find the rest of my soul.” Rancour stated, as Momo looked over, perplexed.
“The rest of your soul? What are you talking about?” Momo asked, wondering why he had waited to tell him.
“Once I was killed, my soul remained intact, however, as I had begun to bond myself to justice, revenge and hatred I began to lose other portions of my soul as they expressed themselves in objects, people and other significances. If we wish to restore my full power, we’ll need to start there. I would suggest we start one place I know a tiny portion of my power lies. Stanmoir.” Rancour explained.
“I see, what lays there?” Momo inquired.
“The past.” Rancour bitterly stated.
“The travel should be around 100 miles, if not slightly longer, as we shall need to avoid York and Werreby, as I have no doubt the Knights Templar have been notified of us in the nearly two weeks we have dwelled here.” He continued.
“Why do the knights here not attack us then?” Momo asked in curiosity.
“They are not a proper army, nor are they really soldiers. The men of the templar have seen battle and would make the full weight of York fall upon us.” Rancour replied.
“I see, so, how shall we travel?” Momo asked.
“What do you mean?” Rancour inquired.
“I’m not sure how we can, Amirah won’t acclimate well to our speeds.” Momo commented.
“We must leave her, for now.” Rancour stated.
“It will take hours to get to Stanmoir! There’s not a chance I’d leave her behind.” Momo countered.
“The bond between our souls has strengthened since we first arrived, we are far faster, stronger and competent than before, after we regain this portion of my soul we should be even faster, this should take no longer than an hour.” Rancour calmly rebuked.
“I don’t like this. What if the knights capture her?” Momo angrily insisted.
“They won’t. They know what their fates shall be if they try to ransom her, and especially if they harm her.” Rancour asserted once more.
“Fine. Let me tell her we’re going out to find supplies for a trip.” Momo begrudged.
Rancour nodded his head as Momo got up from the chair they sat in, walking toward Amirah’s resting place, in the room across from theirs. Momo thought it was too early to go, but he knew they needed to return before dawn, lest she be put in danger. He lit a candle, illuminating the room slightly.
“Amirah.” Momo gently whispered, slightly shaking his sister.
“Whaaaat?” She asked, her sleepy eyes awakening to the slight warmth of the candlelight, as Momo knelt next to her bed.
“I am going to gather supplies for our journey toward Northumbria. You wait here, alright, I’ll be back by dawn?” Momo muttered, not trying to keep her awake too long.
“Okay then.” She responded, embracing him in a warm hug that he reciprocated, before putting her back into her bed and under its sheets.
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Momo got up, walking to the door, and opening it. Under the cloak of darkness, he walked toward the inn’s exit, sneaking out of the walls of Poclinton and sprinting away. As Momo ran at his top speeds, covering 18 miles in just 5 minutes, they ran past York, not alerting anyone, and continuing onto the road, and running the next 14 miles in a minute less than the first, reaching Catale, in which a large gate awaited Momo, for which he stopped. A small garrison of 10 knights of the templar awaited, as one walked up to him.
“Identification, sir.” The knight asked dryly.
“Why? I’ve never needed identification until this point.” Momo responded.
“Only those of the English knighthood or proven residents of the north are permitted forward as of now, sir.”
“I have none, as I was unaware, I am visiting family in the north.” He replied.
“You must turn around or you will be taken into custody.” The knight calmly stated.
“Let me pass.” Momo warned.
“No.” The knight said, drawing his sword. “Surrender your weapons.” He ordered, as the nine other knights drew their swords and began forming ranks.
Momo drew his sword.
“We have to kill them.” Rancour insisted. “If they live, we shall be made known to all of York.”
Momo silently agreed pointing his sword upon the men.
He must be the one that York spoke of, he has the sword they described and the armour of a ranger. The knight thought to himself
Before he could birth another thought, Momo appeared before him, punching him into another knight and closing in upon the other men, dispatching them, and putting four to death in the span of a second. The strongest of them kept a short duel with Momo, holding him off and even putting him on the backfoot, before Momo regained the advantage, breaking his sword with a punch and cutting his head off, dispatching the other five within the next few seconds.
Momo stood still, knowing these men did not deserve their deaths. But he continued forth, sparing only a small amount of pity, knowing that all ten of them, were also murderers.
In another thirteen minutes, they had made it to Stanmoir.
“This is the place. Where exactly do I go from here.” Momo spoke.
“Down that street, thirty yards, and right one hundred yards.” Rancour replied.
Momo followed his orders, in a second, appearing exactly one hundred yards right of the street he was asked to cross.
“Dig down seven feet.” Rancour once more instructed.
Momo dug, reaching a wooden coffin exactly seven feet below.
“A grave? Whose body is this?” Momo asked, surprised of what he had found.
“Mine.” Rancour coldy replied. “Open the box and pick up the crown. That still holds a portion of my soul.” Rancour ordered.
Momo did as instructed, as he picked up the crown, the golden colour flowing into the wraith as he began feeling the power surge into him. As Momo regained consciousness, he turned to the golden wraith, who stood before him, looking upon himself. As he stared at him, he realised something.
“You’re Eric Bloodaxe!” Momo discerned, looking upon the former King of Northumbria.
“Correct. I am the former Eric Haraldsson. Northumbria was once mine, and I seek to destroy the lineage of the one who betrayed and killed me. For this, I shall help you gain your revenge, we may either take the throne of the ruler within the walls of York, or we may simply allow history to run its course upon the lands of Northumbria after our revenge has been dealt and justice given.” Rancour stated.
“I don’t need a throne. We’ll end the lineage of the one you speak of, and the three that survived killing my parents. Do you agree, Haraldsson?” Momo replied.
“I do. Now, let’s prepare for a visit to York.” He eagerly declared, disappearing into his soul once more.
As the first light of dawn began to shine, imbued with a deeper and more powerful bond, Momo launched himself toward Poclinton at maximum speed, crossing the hundred-mile distance in just 10 minutes. Returning to Amirah as the lights of dawn lengthened, watching over her until she woke by the sunrise.