Chapter 1 - Change

Ædelflæd takes the hilt and turns it over in her hands, inspecting the fine details of its carvings and the still scorched surface of the metal. Piercing blue eyes stare out at Kara from beneath the hood. "How did you come to possess such a gift?"

Magan sits quietly through the ritual. As it finishes and the druids break the circle he rushes to her side, reaching out through the druids to take her hand. He asks, nervously. "Theli? Are you OK? I am so sorry."

"Magan..." Theli utters before half falling into his arms as her legs struggle to hold her. "How?" She murmurs softly as she presses her head against his chest.

Glöyn watches the entire scene unfolding with widened eyes and a slight smile upon her lips. She had never witnessed the true power of such as this and it was awe-inspiring. As the group began to slightly disperse, she gingerly approaches one of them and asks quietly. "If I may ask? Where do you all learn such powers? I would love to learn to heal like you do."

"Shh, it doesn't matter." He presses her closer to him, kissing the top of her head. "Rest."

The priest who Glöyn approaches smiles tenderly at the girl, like an older relative might to a child. "In truth, we did nothing. This young lady was touched by grace of the Æsir. The walls between worlds are thin tonight. The circle merely reached out to Asgard and asked that they might lend her their strength." Theli exhales gently as Magan holds her to his chest, and the tension flows from her in a way that he's not felt in days. As the Saxon runs his hands through the woman's hair, he notices strands of silver and gold that he's never seen before woven through it. However, before Magan can say anything further, Theli twists against him as he holds her and squeezes him tighter, making the knot in his chest tighten painfully. "Where are we?" She asks, a note of wonder in there voice.

Magan winces and tries to hold in a gasp of pain, but it escapes despite his best efforts.  "We are safe. In a small community at a site of holy pilgrimmage. Those who hurt you are dead, and now you are well." He holds her close to him, and speaks above her head to the druids nearby. "You have done me a great service, and I am personally grateful more than I could show. Beyond that though, you have aided the gods for we are on a quest to fight for them against the heathen invaders. I have no right to ask more of you, but I would seek the wisdom of your circle if I may. A moment,though it pains me to be separated even for a moment at this time." He kisses Theli firmly and keeping her hand he turns to talk in a hushed whisper.  " I am ashamed to say it, but I thought I had lost her and I am sure it broke my heart. My grief has left me weak, the pain in my chest... It grips me tightly. What can I do to ease this pain?" 

Kara blinks, as no one had asked her that before. She starts to tell the story of the bright light that flashed into the nights sky, and then the taking of the ship. She was clearly animated talking of how the group overcame the pirates, and during the battle, a light, or rather a flaming corpse had the blade in hand. It was an epic tale, and while the truth was not to far stretched, all who had been present for it would know she was making the battle out to be tougher and more violent than it was in truth. However, the Norse woman clearly did not often tell of her own exploits often, and her part was somewhat minimized for the whole tale. " And then I just jumped in, and found it. Clutched by a burnt corpse. Poor thing was hard to say if female or male. I wanted to bring them up for a proper burial, but was unable to."  It clearly bothered her she wasn't able to give the corpse what she thought was a proper burial. She then tilts her head to those piercing blue eyes, asking " Have you heard of things like this before? I was told to seek out this place for not only the blade, but also my past. Tis purely Freya blessing.. or.. you say she is known as Frija? Truly her hand helps guide and protect our group. Rewards for faith"

The two members of the circle whom Magan has addressed each throw each other a sidelong glance. One nods to the other, a scruffy dark beard visible protruding from beneath his hood, and heads off towards the mound's exit, while the other beckons Magan to the side. "The moon's power is passing," he whispers in a hoarse voice. "Feats such as that which you have seen tonight are few and far between - but there is another way." The man eyes Theli uncomfortably before continuing. "If you come with me, now, alone, and quietly, we can help you." In the meantime, a small crowd of fascinated faithful has gathered around Kara and Ædelflæd as the Nordic shield maiden tells her story. Eventually she finishes, and Ædelflæd hands Kara back Helgi, still watching the northerner with eyes that seem to see right through her. "That's a miraculous tale, Kara," she acknowledges. "You are from across the water to the north, yes? What is your family like? Tell me of your father, and your mother."

Magan nods. Kisses Theli again.  "I will be back soon. Rest, we will talk when I return." He follows the hooded men. 

Kara flushes a bright red, and rubs the back of her head. She clearly was not used to such things being said, and feels a bit bad about the small embellishments.  "Well I mean, it was what we had to do."   However when asked about her Homeland, she is much more open and friendly, though the words about a mother seemed to make her since, a long forgotten pain still able to be touched. She slipped back into Norse, and would continue unless the wan stopped her. "My dad was a farmer, though in his youth he had went on many raiding trips he said. He was tall and handsome, though kind. He only beat me when needed, and never drank more than he should. I would say he is still back farming now, though he may wish to go one last time on a raid. He is the one who took me to the local priestess. Da said that she could best teach me, and she did teach me many things." After a few more moments it becomes clear Kara either didn't know her mother, or was choosing to not speak about her, especially since the priestess and other women in the village had taught her the more domestic chores normal for a mother to teach, along with the sword and shield.

Theli mumbles a noise of complaint, reluctant to let Magan go. She holds onto the Saxon, trailing her fingertips along his arm and hand, until he finally moves out of reach. Only once Magan is completely out of sight does the girl go in search of Gawen, Branok and the others, meekly greeting them with a nod of recognition and thanks. The old man immediately envelops Theli in a warm and welcoming embrace. "Fy merch. Roedden ni'n meddwl ein bod ni wedi'ch colli chi!"  Cornish: "My girl. We thought we'd lost you!" Magan is quietly led out of the mound and into the cool air of the night. The sky is a deep, dark blue, studded with a million points of brilliant light. It's on nights like these that one could truly believe that it was possible for the heavens to reach down and touch the mortal man. The white-cloaked figure beckons to the Saxon, guiding him away from the village and into the stretch of woods that runs between the mound and Woden's dyke. Before long, they come across a worn square of limestone bricks that surrounds a concealed flight of rocky steps. The stairs lead down beneath the earth, and the dark opening gapes forebodingly. Magan's companion from the circle produces a torch from a nearby cache amongst the underbrush, and, once it is lit, again indicates to Magan to follow as he begins the descent underground. The flickering light illuminates a roughly cut tunnel that seems to retrace their steps back towards the village, and, at its end, the warm glow of firelight suggests that they are expected. The passage opens into a small chamber, with a basin in the centre. Three fire pits line the edges of the room, providing light to another three black-cloaked figures who stand nearby. "You stand before a great task, Saxon," the central figure rasps. "The forces that march on our homeland are merciless, and their God will stop at nothing to root out our way of life. If you are to succeed, the strength of the Æsir must burn within you." Magan's guide bows and leaves, receding back down the passage from whence they came. "We can call upon Vidarr to fortify you for the trials to come, but he will demand a blood sacrifice." The man gestures to a knife that lies upon the edge of the basin. Ædelflæd nods in understanding as Kara speaks of her family history. "Kara," she begins, tenderly, "it is not merely Frija's blessing that brings Helgi to answer your call." The priestess speaks with the maiden as a mother might teach a child of the world. "Such power burns in blood, and is passed on through family lines. Your mother, whoever she was, was special. The fire of the Æsir burned in her veins, and this power is her gift to you . Your father knew this. It's the reason that he brought you to the priestess, and the reason that you are capable of some things that others find impossible." Seeing Kara's confusion, Ædelflæd continues to explain so that the girl might better understand her heritage. "You see well in darkness, where others stumble blindly, yes? This is one of many gifts borne by those whose family line has been touched by the Gods. In time, some can learn to carry the light of Asgard with them, or even use it to heal." The priestess watches the northern girl carefully for her reaction to what she has been told. "Kara, this is a great blessing, but it also comes with the burden of destiny. I urge you - make the pilgrimage. Visit Fretherne, Freefolk and Froyle. Travel to Wanesberge and Wensley. Each of these is a sacred place, watched over by the wise. Open yourself to the Gods. Learn to use the gifts they have given you and your destiny will become clear."

Gann withdraws until his back is pressed against the stonework walls to make way for Branok, Theli, and others. He nods back at her reluctantly as she is guided outside, conscious of his unsightly look and pungence in the presence of holy people. Imprinted in the memory of the moment is the sudden burst of light, and the blade that the Norse woman held out to display. He has never believed he would witness stuff of legend with his bare eyes, and he steals every moment to catch more of it. So these are the god-chosen. The land guides them with the will of all things sacred. He listens to the conversation between Kara and the cloaked girl, soaking in every word to can make out. His grasp of the local language is still rough, so meaning often escapes him but he remembers names and places. His breathing slows down as a realization sinks in. The spirits did not guide them to find me. Ei is merely a cod caught in the net of their wyrd. 

Magan follows silently, his mind back with Theli as they journey. Nerves grab him as he enters the chamber though. The eerie ambiance somehow holy and intimidating at the same time. He bows his head on respect as the leader talks.  "I will accept your help and guidance. If you need my blood take it, if I must take the blood of another, I am strong enough to do what must be done. What must I do?" 

Two of the cloaked figures step forward and fill the basin with an amber coloured liquid from a pair of skins. "Take the blade and cast your own blood into the basin," continues the man who spoke before.

Theli's great restoration was met with awe and joy, but for the moments it lasted, Guthric was much less euphoric. He'd followed the procession up to the mound, but Fang and Claw refused to proceed anywhere near the crowd. The balked and whined and planted themselves, refusing to give an inch without a struggle. Guthric pleaded and begged, he even offered a hunk of dried meat for each, but to no avail. Without warning, the early evening flashed with light, and though his back was turned, Guthric saw as though it were midday. His hounds let out a yipe, and he instinctively fell and wrapped them close for comfort. The air was pulsing with...something. It made every hair stand as though it would leap from his skin, and his nose was flooded with some sweet fragrance akin to fresh bread and flowers. His great frame shook and heaved and when the light faded, he found himself hanging as much as clinging to his dogs. Joy hung in the air, and Guthric immediately saw the cause. From outside the crowd, he saw Theli walking happy and healthy. He refused to believe such until she saw her meet Magan at the center of the congregation. Such a wondrous place.... Gann was the first familiar face he could find. Maybe he saw everything for himself? Guthric worked his way through the crowd and met with his wounded ally, "Did you see what happened? Are you well?"

Magan picks up the blade and slices into his forearm. Splashing the blood across the basic, he grimaces but pumps his gust, forcing more to gush forth until he begins to feel dizzy. 

Eventually after seeing and hearing enough Gann limps out of the mound with a leaden step. His eyes have an astray and withdrawn dullness to them, and the answer to Guthric's question comes hollow and hoarse at first. "Magan's woman speaks again," Gann shares the good news. Gann lifts his eyes at the deep night sky hung with stars and meanings, all distant to him. " The Nord woman is still inside, she... She is granted wisdom by the holy men. I saw her blade and its light with my eyes. Have you known her to be chosen? " 

"I know she has a special weapon," Guthric notes, "But I know nothing else. When we survived the crypts - just before we found you - her sword put horrors back into the ground. I saw very little else; I had....other things on my mind."

Gann listens closely to Gurthric's reply, weighting the meaning behind every word. The mention of a skirmish before he was saved from certain death shakes him back from lingering wonderment into the cold midnight air. "Horrors, you say? Have you angered the spirits of this land by any mean?"

"That is actually a little funny, and I do not know entirely why it happened."  Guthric smiles a little, "I think we went there to kill someone - I think he had men who injured Theli - and Magan took pride in it. Then, Gawen suggested we go deeper in because something about Theli being helped. Then, we find a tomb and Gawen takes a statue, then ancient bones came to life and we fight off an army of them."

Magan's blood splashes into basin, mixing with the golden fluid and turning it dark with ichor. Immediately, the priest to his right steps forward, soaks a piece of white cloth in the liquid, and wraps it around the Saxon's wound. Meanwhile the priest standing opposite unbuttons the top of Magan's tunic, before filling a wooden bowl from the basin and holding it to the man's lips. "ÞA KOMR IN MICLI," the three holy men chant, "MAGR SIGFADUR, VÍðAR VEGA, AT VAL DYRI. LETR HANN MEGI HVEDRVNGS, MVND VM STANDA, HIÓR TIL HIARTA, þA ER HEFNT FADUR." Once Magan has finished drinking from the bowl, the priest on his left sets it aside and takes a branding iron from the closest fire pit. As the chanting comes to a crescendo, he drives the red-hot metal against the Saxon's chest, directly over the heart. The pain is intense, and the burning sensation rapidly spreads beyond the immediate wound. Fire roars in Magan's chest, down his throat, in his stomach and beneath the cut in his arm. Mere seconds pass, but to Magan it feels like an eternity. Once the burning finally recedes, the priest to the Saxon's right comes to him once more, taking thick dollops of peat from another bowl and smearing it over the top of the branded mark.

Mag n screams animalistically as the brand is pushed into his chest. He focuses on Theli, welcoming the pain to ease his guilt. As the ritual completes he drops to his knees out of breath. 

Glöyn frowns as she listens, not quite understanding everything that has occurred here this eve. "So, it was the young one, Isolde, who actually guided the healing of Theli? She is but a little girl... how could one so young have such power? Clearly she must be touched by the Gods then?" She had joined this ritual in hopes of finding answers, but it would seem now she had more questions than anything. She wondered if she should speak with the derwydd, Gawen, perhaps he could explain things better? She opened her mouth to say something when she heard a strange noise from... outside? It did not come from within, but she craned her head in hopes of pinpointing the noise. Something about it felt... off... "Did you hear that?" She asks the priest as she begins move outside the dome and towards her companions. As she exits, she spots Guthric and Gann nearby and approaches, keeping an eye out around the horizon and keeping her spear close. "Did you all hear that strange noise just now? It was distant and muffled..." She notices Theli and Branok, but no... Magan. A shiver breaks up her spine. "Where is Magan?"

Gann lets the story of the larger Pict soak in, painting a vague image of what the group might have been through before they found him. He remembers to shift from leg to leg to ease the pain, and it cuts short his trail of thought. "Let's hope you have not angered the creagan  or uaimh , and might they merely stood guard to what you found." He turns when Glöyn raises her voice, sharing her worry with firmness to his voice. "He followed one of the wise men outside. That was a while ago."

She hisses at Gann's words. "Which way did he go? I fear there may be trouble."

Gann's face hardens and his eyes scour the moonlit vicinity. "Ei did not see. Branok led his woman out before they left, he may know."

Guthric had been ignorant to any noises, but concern over anyone missing struck home. He gave a few sharp whistles and his hounds charged forward within seconds, "We can find him. Does anyone have something to sniff out?"

"You will find any by his horse, for sure." Gann turns at the pict.

Glöyn nods at Gann's suggestion and she quickly jogs over to Branok and Theli. "Goodman, Magan is missing. Have you seen where he has gone? I heard something , but I do not know what. It worries me for his safety. Gann says he left with one of the wisemen?"

Gann attempts to keep up with the two but a dozen steps in the distance widen enough that he gives up. The burn is gone but the thumping pain and the numbness in the toes are still there and reminds him he is half a man.

Magan's vision blurs, and he sees a long hall filled with golden light. A feasting table runs the length of the room, surrounded by warriors as they drink, make merry and tell tales of battle. At the far end, a spear rests against an empty throne. The hall darkens, and, when Magan looks again, the warriors are gone. A cold wind blows across the abandoned table and snow drifts have built against its legs. The throne at the top of the room is split by a diagonal crack, and a one-eyed raven sits squawking on one corner of its back. A horned man in the garb of a northern priest follows a white-robed southerner through a rocky desert. "Your body has been fortified by the spirit of Vidarr ," the words snap Magan back to reality as the central priest speaks with him. "You will be His hand, and He will guide you to strike against the Christian invaders. There will be no rest for you, until your task is complete. You are the Red Wolf. Chosen of Vidarr . Rise." As the man speaks, the pain falls away from Magan's limbs and torso, leaving them only an empty numbness where the ache in his chest had been. Outside, by the mound, the member of the circle that Goewyn has been talking with laughs at her supposition. "The little one? No, no. It was the Gods that touched your wounded friend, by the power of the full moon!" He walks away chuckling to himself as the Welsh girl goes in search of her companions. When she finds Branok, the old man nods in affirmation. "Yes, my dear. I think I saw him following one of the circle towards the woods," he tells her, kindly. "You sound concerned? What would Magan have to fear from a priest? Theli tells me that he simply wished to discuss an injury of his own." The scent that Fang and Claw find on Magan's belongings confirms as such, and the dogs lead their master into the trees.

"Thank you." Magan's voice rasps, his body changed by the experience and racked by thirst. "I have known no rest since this quest began in any case. I cannot rest whilst this blight threatens our lands." He brings himself back to his feet. "We will get moving as soon in the morning. There is little time to waste. If I may." He pauses. Unsure at first but continues. "Before we depart, do you have any further counsel to guide us in our task for the Gods?"

"Gather your allies and watch for omens," the priest intones. "Do not underestimate the servants of Rome... and now we must go." The priests bow, before all heading back up the tunnel towards the woods.

Magan bows and follows them from the tunnel, eager to return to Theli.

Gawen listens intently as the priestess talks to Kara, nodding as she confirms and expands upon his own suspicions of the previous night. He feels keenly the gaps in his own knowledge, and suddenly recalls the other mystery surrounding the Norsewoman he is missing the keys to unlock. "Kara, you still have the statuette from the cave, yes? May we see it? It could be that someone here will recognise its import."

Glöyn shrugs. "It is not the priests that worry me... This night is uncanny. The priests speak of  the Æsir and a thinning of the veil between Otherworld. I heard something not but a few moments ago. It sounded, I do not know. Like a muffled scream perhaps? After what I just witnessed I... I do not know what the think anymore, Goodman Branok. I wonder if this is all just a strange dream?" She shakes her head as if trying to clear her thoughts when she spots Guthric gathering his hounds and preparing to head off into the woods. "Watch the others. The Pict and I shall return shortly!" With that, she rushes over towards Guthric and takes her spear in hand, giving them man a nod and follows behind him as he leads his hounds off into the treeline.

Kara takes a careful moment to absorb what she is told. Not being schooled in hiding her feelings as much as others, it was clear she was fighting not only the desire to agree, but to question other things she had done in the past. She just thought having faith was the source of her power, and that anyone was able to get it, not from something she alone could do. Does that mean she was not favored? Was it simply just an accident, and anyone could have filled this roll? She wavers for a bit, before shaking her head and deciding that it did not matter, for she held a source of power for Freya glory. "Elder, is it possible for us to make those journeys  with our current task? I do not wish to derail what we are doing, but this would give us an edge against those heathens and their false idea of one god."

As Magan walks back through the trees towards the circle, he suddenly becomes aware of something or somethings scuffing through the undergrowth ahead. Shifting quickly behind a tree on instinct he reaches for an axe. A few seconds later he breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing his muscles as Guthric's hounds come into view. He steps out to greet them, then a dark thought crosses his mind and he tenses again with nerves.  "I am here. What are you doing though? Is everything well? Theli did not react poorly...?" 

"It can be no coincidence that many of these locations lie on the road ahead of you," Ædelflæd agrees. "Fretherne is not nine leagues north of  Caer Odor ."

Glöyn stops short when she spots Magan calming walking through the woods. "Nay, she is just find. We came looking for you after you disappeared. I... Well, I thought I heard something like a cry of pain..." She suddenly realizes how silly she might seem at the moment given that everything appeared fine. "No one knew exactly where you were and I feared that... I don't really know what I feared." But she did. She knew exactly what she feared, but could not put those to words just yet. These men may not agree to help her if they knew she was trying to reclaim her child brother...

Magan grimaces. "That was probably me. The holy men had a way to cure my injury and bless our quest for the gods at once. As with all things, the gods demand sacrifice to test your sincerity, and it was less than comfortable. I am well now though, and we have further signs that we must press forward with haste."

Glöyn blinks as she takes in the stoic demeanor. "Oh." She looks him over for any obvious injuries and finding none she shakes her head to clear her thought process. "We should return then, I believe your woman, Theli, was looking for you. We should all take a rest before we head out in the morning."

Guthric puzzles over how it all played out. Following a grandiose ceremony, with lots of people distracted, Magan is offered an amazing gift and led off into the woods, "I think I see how you felt when Theli was taken. We've been through so much, and people notice us now. Be more careful."

Taking the statuette from Kara, Gawen shows it to Ædelflæd. "Elder, there is another strand in this strange web that I do not possess the knowledge to unweave. We were at the caves at Wookey trying to rescue some of our party from bandits, when the young girl Isolde seemed to get a sense of something. She pointed us to deeper within the caves to an ancient excavation that, after entering, we discovered to be a tomb. We are no grave robbers, but we found the object of her sense within and took it, for she seems to feel it has some connection to us, or to Kara specifically. But I do not recognise the idol, and the girl cannot speak. Do you by chance know what it might depict, or any of the history of the caves at Wookey?"

Ædelflæd examines the statuette with fascination. "It cannot be... might I take a few minutes to inspect it?" The priestess asks.

Gawen looks to Kara for approval, then carefully hands the priestess the statue.

Ædelflæd thanks Gawen and Kara and takes the black dog statuette away to examine it in private. The gathering of elders and onlookers slowly disperses, and soon all six of the travellers are reunited and make their way back to the long house. Several minutes later, the priestess returns, her eyes wide. "Druid, this statuette is no mere decoration. It is a relic of the Æsir - one of a set. There are seven of its kind, each in the form of a different animal. When called upon this figurine will come to life and serve you as a Cŵn Annwn !"

Gawen's eyes widen at the news. "Strange fortunes indeed! We have already had one meeting with Cŵn Annwn since leaving Tintagel, and I've a scar on my arm to remember them by. Perhaps this one will be less anxious to see our throats torn from us. Do you know anything of its history, or how it came to be in Wookey? What form the others take? And, perhaps more importantly, how it is called upon?"

Ædelflæd swallows. "You must invoke the name of Hel's own hound. I will not speak it here, but the statue will respond. I know not how this came to be in Wookey, but there are others, although little is known of them. Lokki's steed, Donar's goats, Woden's raven, to name but a few."