Topic: Into The Myst

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:22 EST
Night was a poor time to be traveling in the mountains. For generations, the dark squat of the Mountains of Myst had been haunted by the legion of the dead. Corpses, ghouls, revenants ....they spilled from the heart of the highest peak to roam the forests and inclines of the mountainous valleys, killing the living that they found if those living were blessed with luck. The unlucky ones were dragged back to the heart of the Dragon Peak, and never seen again.

Yet travelers who attempted the mountain pass often came out of those oppressive peaks safely, and spoke of glimpses made of living warriors who guarded that pass, each one tall and blessed with sun-kissed hair in a place that so rarely saw such sunlight. No one knew who they were, or where they quartered, nor even how they could live surrounded by the undead, yet clearly there were more than corpses haunting those mountains.

But no one from the lowlands strayed from that path and lived, for no adventurer, no explorer, had returned from their ill-fated venturing into the gorges and thickets of the dead. Indeed, the dead took revenge for such incursions, spilling forth into the lowlands to seek out the villages that had given aid to those who disturbed their borders in raids that saw more added to their never-ending army. No, the Mountains of Myst were not for the faint-hearted, and night was the domain of the dead.

No sane man would have dared travel the passes through those mountains without good reason, especially at night, but that particular night, one such man had dared do so, and for good reason. He wasn't doing it for profit or even adventure, but because he was tracking someone he cared for who'd gone missing, and he needed to find her before it was too late.

But no matter the skill of the hunter, or the urgency of his task, beneath the moon the dead stalked the land. He could not go unnoticed forever. Yet in this part of the mountains, deeper in than others from his home had dared to go, the dead had other things on their minds. Through the thick forest came the sound of battle, of swords clashing, shields thumping, voices raised in anger and pain arrayed against the sibilant hiss of the voiceless dead.

If you were human, there was only one kind of prey this deep in the mountains, where the hunters often became the hunted. As far as he knew, no humans lived here, but the sounds of battle could only mean one thing - a hunting party of some sort had come upon a pack of walking dead. Their enemies were his enemies, and the hunter didn't need to think twice before coming to their aid. It was only a matter of minutes before he added his arrows to the fray, taking down one abomination after another.

The battle he had come across should have been one-sided, judged by the standards of the lowlands. Thirteen warriors in mail and leather armor faced dozens of ghouls and corpses, hacking at the rotting flesh with swords and axes. No archers in their number, yet there was no lacking for strength and courage as the band broke the ranks of the undead. The hunter's arrows were noted, but not mentioned, allowing him his kills as he cut a path through the lurching, skeletal foes toward the armored brute that was the revenant in command of them. With a howl like a wolf, one warrior leapt into the revenant's path, wielding sword and shield, and snarling as she engaged with that fight. The sooner the leader was down, the easier the fight would become.

There was no time to consider the wisdom of his actions as he entered the fray. With a common enemy at hand, he didn't think twice about joining the fight, whatever the odds against them. Working his way toward the center of the battle and what appeared to be the leader of the pack, he swapped his bow for a sword and started to cut his way through the walking corpses, shearing off heads and arms as easily as cutting through butter.

If his appearance in the fray gave the other warriors pause, they showed no sign of it, giving way to let him take the kills he chose, guarding their own leader's back as she engaged the revenant with wild ferocity. There was a wildness in the way she fought, in the way they all fought; an acceptance that, if it was their time, then this would be their last fight, and they would take as many down with them as they could. Black blood spurted from the wounds of the undead as they were hacked down, until a bare few remained, and still they fought on, heedless of injury. And the revenant still stood, exchanging blows with the warrior that faced it, her shield shattered, sword broken, but still unflinching.

There were few among them who remained unscathed, all of them covered in black blood mingled with red. There was no point in worrying over the dead and wounded until the last of their foe was finished. The hunter knew there would be plenty more to take their place, but with luck, none of his fellow warriors would join their ranks. It wasn't long before he cut his way to the center of the battle, his sword clashing with that of the revenant just in time to save the warrior from a blow that would have brought certain death. Unflinching or not, one could not defend themselves against such a foe without a shield or weapon.

How the warrior knew the hunter had approached was anyone's guess, but what seemed to be a crouch to avoid the revenant's killing blow merely gave the hunter room to bring his own blade up to prevent that attack. From the ground, the warrior howled once more, dragging an axe from the still body beside her to hack one leg out from underneath the undead commander. The revenant screamed, dropping down as it thrust its shield out toward the hunter, trying to push him away.

Lacking a shield of his own, which the hunter had judged would only weigh him down, the revenant's shield caught him by surprise, knocking him back a few paces, momentarily dazed. But he didn't remain so for long, shaking the blow off and surging forward with a battle cry of his own, swinging his sword in the air to make the killing blow. The sword seemed to almost sing with berserk joy as it found its mark, taking the revenant's head clean off with a single blow.

As the last of the undead fell, the warriors cheered, a sharp sound that cut through the dark night before being abruptly cut off with the ease of custom or tradition. And the hunter found himself ringed with swords and axes - though he had joined the fight, he was not one of them, and these were not his lands. The warrior whose life he had saved rose to her feet, spitting a mouthful of her own fresh blood as she eyed him levelly, her pale gaze traveling the length of him with suspicion and interest.

Though they had a common enemy, it seemed that did not automatically make them friends. Finding himself surrounded, he lowered his sword, but did not let go of it or offer it over. The thing had grown quiet again, hungry for black blood as it had been, and dripping the stuff on the ground at the hunter's feet. He, too, was bleeding from various cuts and wounds and panting from the effort of battle. Assuming the warrior woman was the leader of the group, he met her gaze before nodding his head in silent greeting and acquiescence.

She looked him over for an uncomfortably long moment, stepping close to seize his chin with strong fingers, turning his head this way and that, inspecting him closely.

"Dawn Rider?" one of her number spoke, a burly man who wore paint rather than armor.

She released the hunter, nodding sharply. "A life for a life," she said in a tense tone, turning to nod again to her people. "I claim him and his possessions. Bring him."

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:23 EST
He suffered her scrutiny silently, though his eyes burned with some unspoken indignity at the way she was choosing to thank him. "I am not a dog that you can claim as a pet," he protested through clenched teeth. In need of information, he was happy to go along with them for now, but he had no intention of remaining, either as pet or prisoner.

She paused, tilting her head back at him. "Would you rather be put down like a dog?" she asked pointedly, much to the amusement of the men who remained around him.

"That is a strange way to thank someone who just saved your life," he pointed out further, ignoring the men who, for some reason, seemed amused by their exchange.

She turned back, a wicked knife drawn from her hip to lay the tip with firm precision against his jugular. "I could just kill you now, lowlander," she offered, her voice low with menace. "These lands are not your lands. You are a long way from your mountain pass."

Her head turned sharply toward the sound of a man nearby, struggling to catch his breath. One of her number was bent double, gasping for breath as black ichor trickled from his lips, his skin turning a terrible gray as he heaved and staggered. His own people backed away from him, murmuring prayers for the dead, even as the Dawn Rider threw her knife with deadly accuracy. They could not risk taking such an infection back to the hold.

He didn't so much as wince as she threatened him with the knife. He still had his sword in his hand and could have used it against her, if he so wished, but it wasn't her blood he or the sword were hungry for. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't turn his head to see what she was seeing, but he knew from the sounds around him what was taking place, and acting on instinct, he offered her the sword. "Use this and give him a merciful death."

Her knife had taken the man in the chest, but they all knew it wasn't a killing blow. It would keep him down until he was down for good. Surprised to be offered the sword, which seemed to hold some enchantment about it, the woman nodded brusquely to their captive, taking the hilt in her hand.

"Disarm him," she ordered her fellows, who moved to do just that. She, in turn, walked to her fallen comrade, touching his hair with surprisingly gentle fingers. He looked up at her with fear in his eyes. "Go to the Mother, Hrulfgar Ingborson," she told him reverently, and with one motion, cleaved his head from his shoulders.

Some might have found the surrendering of his sword to be foolish, but it had been made for just such a purpose, and he knew better than to use it against people who shared the same enemy. With any luck, he could gain their trust and help with his own quest, if not their friendship. With that in mind, he made no further protest, even as he was disarmed, wincing only once at the pain of the wounds he, too, had suffered.

The group did not linger long in that place. With their number lessened by one, and a captive in their midst, they bound the hunter's hands and pulled him along with them as they left the scene of their battle, discouraging talk. He was not the only injured one among them, and he was treated no differently from their fellows but for his bound hands, but the trek was hard for one not used to these lands. Minutes passed into hours as the dawn began to lighten the sky, until finally they came in sight of a great wooden stockade, guarding an even greater gate set into the side of a mountain. Men and women raised a cheer as the party passed through the stockade, the way blocked behind them with sharpened stakes to slow any attack that might come from the legions that haunted these mountains.

As if being taken captive wasn't humiliating enough, they had to bind his hands - a choice he found as annoying as it was unnecessary. If he'd wanted to fight them, he would have by now, and probably would have taken at least a few of them to their deaths, along with him. But he was biding his time, waiting to see just where all this would lead. By the time they reached their destination, he was weary beyond words.

"There, lowlander," the great painted bear of a man walking with him said, nudging his shoulder. "Welcome to Mountain-Hawk Hold." He nodded toward the great gates as they were opened, admitting the group into a tall, narrow passageway, lined with walkways high above where spear-armed warriors stood, prepared to defend against incursion from on high.

He didn't think it was much of a welcome, but he was duly impressed with his surroundings and grateful to be alive. Still, he knew he couldn't stay here long - he had more pressing matters to attend to than being some woman's pet.

The man at his side snorted with laughter at his lack of response, urging him onward, through the tunnel that cut into the mountain. Yet at the end of that tunnel was light - natural light, assisted by torches to illuminate a natural cavern whose roof had fallen in many centuries before. Habitations scattered across a wide basin that bore not only homes and herds, but also a freshwater lake bordered by fields. This mountain hold had everything the people needed to live up here in this forbidding place. The people themselves were barely stirring with the dawn, smiles and greetings offered as the group passed between houses and workshops toward a large roundhouse that stood at the center of the hold.

"Stop here, lowlander," the man at his side warned. "You'll not meet the Thane without invitation."

"What choice do I have?" the hunter asked, pointing out the absurdity of refusing or resisting. He was starting to wonder if he'd made the right choice in helping these people, despite their common enemy. They were keeping him from his own quest, and the longer he tarried here, the less likely it was that he'd find who he was searching for alive.

"There now, you've not been treated badly," the big man pointed out as they came to a halt. He was the only one of their number left now - the woman they called the Dawn Rider had ducked into the roundhouse; the others had peeled away to return to their own homes and families. "It's an honor to be claimed by one of our legends. You wouldn't know that, being low-born, but none of us can help our origins."

"Claimed?" the hunter echoed, not liking the sound of that, assuming the big man was referring to the woman whose life he'd saved. He wasn't sure if he was talking about being claimed as a mate or a servant or a pet, but either way, he had no intentions of staying here any longer than necessary.

"Aye, claimed." The man looked at him in confusion. "Do you not know the ways of the Father" We found you in His grasp, and your hand stayed the death of our leader. Couldn't turn you loose out there, and the Thane'd likely claim you for his daughter if he knew about that sword of yours. No, the Dawn Rider did you a goodness. Thane won't go up against her with an easy heart."

Ignorant of the customs and beliefs of those who lived on the mountain, the hunter only understood a little of what he was being told, but if he understood correctly, he was going to be given little choice in the matter. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I cannot stay here," he told the big man, without further explanation.

"You'll stay and be willing, or you'll stay and be bound, but you'll not stir from this hold without the Dawn Rider's say-so," the man told him cheerfully. "You want that, you'll have to play nice to her. She'll not risk your life in that forest unless you give her reason to." He leaned against the side of the roundhouse. "Name's Svarn Golinsson. You got a name, lowlander?"

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:24 EST
The hunter scowled at the news of that. So, he was to be held as a captive, and for whatever reason, they seemed to think they were doing him a favor. There wasn't much he could do about the situation just yet - not wounded with bound hands and guarded by a man who was nearly twice his size. All he could do was bide his time and hope they would understand reason. That would involve honesty on both sides, and it started with names. "Aiden ap Owen," he replied, grudgingly.

"Strong name, that one." Svarn nodded approvingly, glancing up at the sound of raised voices from within the roundhouse. "Sounds like the Dawn Rider just told him of her claim." He chuckled at the very unsavory language being thrown at the woman by the owner of the harsh male tone past the door.

"Why do you call her that' The Dawn Rider?" he asked curiously, against his own better judgment. He wasn't planning on staying long enough to get to know her or her people very well, but it didn't hurt to know what he was up against.

"Do you not have legends in the lowlands?" Svarn asked curiously, scratching under his armpit and causing great flakes of dried war paint to come away in a shower. "Names given for great deeds. She's the Dawn Rider; earned it, she did. Thane sent us out with her at our head, into a trap he knew was set. Heard back the night after that the hold was under attack, and she lead us back through the hordes. Broke their lines at the gates, we did, with our leader at our head, all bathed in dawn's gold."

"Certainly, but no living legends that I'm aware of," Aiden replied. Though he might have become something of a legend himself with that sword, he made no mention of it or of what his business was on the mountain.

"Aye, well, Katla Dawn Rider is a living legend, right enough," Svarn insisted rather jovially. "Never taken injury from the dead, never beaten in battle against living or dead. One of these days she'll have to spawn new blood and give up her warrior's ways, but for now, we couldn't ask for a better commander. Word to the wise," he added, meeting Aidan's eyes with a stern gaze. "If, by some chance, you were to defeat her and escape, we'd kill you for it. We protect our own, and until you're in her bed, you're not ours."

Aiden's brows flickered upwards with a hint of mingled shock and annoyance at the big man's words of advice. Living legend or not, he wasn't planning on warming anyone's bed or becoming their prize pet, just because they said so. Ally or friend, perhaps, but lover was doubtful. On the other hand, if that was what it would take to earn their trust and help, perhaps he shouldn't discount it entirely. "I appreciate your people's ....hospitality, but ..." he started, though that wasn't quite the right word to use, considering how he had been brought here against his will, hands bound like a captive. "I am tracking someone, and I cannot stay. Their life depends on it."

Svarn's brows drew together fiercely at this. "Not a word to the Thane," he advised. "Old-Tooth isn't like to let you free at all if he thinks you'll stir up the dead. Keep it to yourself. Tell the Dawn Rider instead. She's the one with the freedom to get you out of here if you play it right." The male voice from inside barked out an order for the captive to be brought to him. Svarn nodded to Aiden. "Speak fair," he warned, giving him a gentle push in through the door.

The roundhouse was one large room, a great brazier in the center burning hot coals to heat the space. At the far side stood a grand throne, carved from a single piece of oak, ornately decorated with the gods of the tribe, and on that throne sat a broad-shouldered man in thick furs, his beard and hair shot through with gray. The Dawn Rider stood facing him, stiff and glowering, but silent.

Svarn's words of advice echoed in Aiden's head as he was pushed through the door. It was only adrenaline and his own stubborn pride that was keeping him on his feet at this point. Exhausted from tracking the dead for days without little to no sleep and wounded from the battle, it was getting harder to remain upright without betraying any sign of weakness, but he had a feeling his own survival depended on showing these people his strengths, not his weaknesses. He took the scene in, quickly assessing the situation. Trying to escape at this point would not only be foolish but suicidal. He could only follow the big man's advice and hope he was telling the truth.

The Thane rose to his feet, clearly used to intimidating captives with his sheer size. "Why are you on our lands, lowlander?" he demanded in a booming tone. "Think to steal our women for your own?"

"Is Ailgun so desperate for a man that you'd offer her as captive bride to get her out of your house?" the Dawn Rider snapped back at her Thane.

He reached out, almost casually backhanding her across the face. Interestingly, she barely moved under the force of that blow, spitting blood back at him as he chuckled.

These people were clearly savages, in comparison to those who lived gathered in villages and farms spread out through the lowlands where he'd been born. And yet, he had seen proof of their legendary strength and courage in battle and respected them for it. He flinched at the blow, surprised it had not been meant for him but for the woman, presumably for the insult made to the Thane's daughter. He waited until things calmed again before answering the man's question, deciding to give the man as honest an answer as possible, without revealing too many details. "I am tracking a pack of dead who attacked a settlement and took some of the people prisoner."

"You track the dead," the Thane repeated, disgust showing in his face and voice. "You'd come to our mountains and stir up the legion of the dead for your own petty revenge" We shed our blood to keep your passes safe, and this is how you repay us?" His hand went to the sword at his hip, but the Dawn Rider was quicker.

She stepped in front of Aiden, her dagger drawn from her belt. "He is mine," she reminded the Thane. "Draw his blood, and there will be a new Thane by the noon."

"I track the dead to hunt and kill them and save those who they've taken prisoner, or have you no care for those who are unable to defend themselves?" Aiden countered, even as the Dawn Rider came to his defense. There wasn't much he could do to defend himself, but he wasn't about to be butchered like a sheep to slaughter without putting up some kind of fight. "I belong to no one. I am a Free Man and a Guardian of the Lowlands. I aided your people in their fight, and this is how you repay me?" he said, raising his bound hands to indicate his indignity, dark eyes flashing with anger of his own.

"You trespass on our lands, no matter your purpose," the Thane roared furiously. "You sneak and you hunt and you raise their ire against us! You think your lowlands bear the brunt of the dead, do you? Do you live hemmed in on all sides, unable to pass a day without the sight of them' Do they smash themselves against your walls, steal away your children, spit their blood into the mouths of your best to turn them against you? Do they?"

"We suffer their existence as much as do you. We should be allies, not enemies. Tell me, if it were your people who had been taken captive, what would you do' Would you remain in your village and let them be slaughtered or would you follow? I am only one man, and I have only one purpose, and that purpose is the same as yours," Aiden countered, refusing to back down.

"Once taken, they never return," the Thane growled at him, fury darkening his expression. "And you'll not stir them to return, either. Dawn Rider!" The woman stiffened, but held her ground as the Thane glared at her. "You claimed him, he's your problem. He escapes, you die in his place."

She scowled, but didn't say a word, turning on her heel to stalk out of the roundhouse. Svarn gave Aiden's shoulder a nudge, urging him to follow.

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:25 EST
That didn't go so well, but Aiden only glared at the man before turning to follow the woman from the roundhouse. He refused to give up hope, but he also knew time was running out while he tarried here. If he couldn't figure out a way to escape, those he was searching for were doomed.

Out in the hold, the woman stopped, scowling at no one in particular. "Take him to the house, Svarn," she told her friend. "I'm ....going to chop wood."

Svarn winced; evidently being so angry she needed to destroy a couple of trees was not a good thing when it came to this woman. "Aye, Dawn Rider," he nodded, watching as she marched off, each stamp of her boots promising extreme violence. The big man looked down at Aiden, nudging him onward. "I did tell you to keep it to yourself," he pointed out quietly.

"What would you have had me do' Lie?" Aiden countered. Of course, he could have groveled and lied and begged for forgiveness, but it wasn't in his nature. "I risked my life to join your people in battle. I stepped in front of your Dawn Rider to face her foe. I gave her my sword in a gesture of trust. I told the truth, assuming you are an honorable people, and still I am not trusted. I tell you again, I cannot stay. I have a sworn duty to uphold and I will not put that duty aside because one man is too proud and stubborn to listen to reason."

"Aye, and that one man is our Thane," Svarn growled warningly. "Stubborn he may be, but he was a strong man once. He was a good man, once. Mind your tongue, lowlander - you don't know us well enough to judge us by your standards." He gripped Aiden's shoulder, pulling him onward through the huts until they ducked in through the doorway of one that stood a little apart. "Sit yourself," the big man told him. "Sigrun! Where're you at, woman?"

Aiden knew that thanes, like chiefs and other leaders, could be removed, but he wished no harm on these people. He only wished to be let free to continue his quest in peace. "I do not have time for this," he grumbled, sounding wearier than he wanted them to see as he was half-dragged into the hut.

Another blonde-haired woman, older than Katla, came ducking out of the door set in the far side of the hut, rolling her eyes at Svarn. "Keep your voice down, you big oaf, you'll wake them," she warned him, and amazingly, Svarn ducked his head, muttering an apology. "And who is this?"

"Dawn Rider's claim," the big man said apologetically. "Life for a life."

"Oh, I see." Sigrun turned her eyes onto Aiden. "And will you be trying to kill me if we take those bonds off you?"

Refusing to sit, either due to pride or mere stubbornness, the hunter swayed slightly on his feet, looking just a little insulted by the woman's question. It wasn't hard to assume she was Svarn's mate, and that there were children sleeping somewhere nearby. The hunter's expression softened momentarily at the thought of hearth and home and family - things he had sacrificed long ago for the sake of duty. "I am not a savage, lady," he told her, a little indignantly.

"Not everyone who comes here does it willingly," Sigrun said gently. "Go and wash yourself, Svarn. Where's Katla?"

"Chopping wood," the big man told his mate, earning another knowing nod. "I'll not be far." He ducked out of sight, leaving Aiden in Sigrun's capable hands.

The first thing she did was remove the rope about his wrists, and set a steaming cup of something herbal down next to him. "Injured, are you?" she asked him, alternating between tending to the man at her table and keeping an eye on the breakfast cooking over the fire. From further into the house came the sound of small voices mingling with Svarn's deeper timbre.

"I didn't seem to have much choice," Aiden pointed out grimly, his temper cooling now that he'd been left in the care of this woman. He knew the man was not only letting her know where he was going, but warning him that he was still nearby, in case he tried to escape. Once his hands were free, he rubbed his wrists to get the circulation going in them again, shrugging his shoulders at her question. "I'm fine." As he'd suspected, he heard the sound of children coming from somewhere in the house. "Yours?" he asked, curiously.

"One of them," she answered with a faint smile, setting a bowl of water and a clean cloth beside him. "You'll be able to wash off better later, but for now, get the blood from your face and hands. It worries the children when they see it. Bjarth put your possessions in Katla's loft."

"I appreciate your kindness, but I have no intention of staying," he told her, even as he reached for the cloth and dipped it into the bowl to clean the blood and grime from his face and hands.

Sigrun stilled, real fear flashing in her eyes. "Don't leave without her at your side," she said, her voice soft and urgent. "Thane'll turn us all out at the first excuse, take the little ones from us. If you give him that excuse, we'll not last until the next dawn. Please."

"Any man who threatens the lives of women and children in order to maintain power is a man not fit to lead," Aiden said, his voice low enough that only she could hear his words. "I give you my word as an honorable man that I will do nothing to put your family in danger," he promised her, despite his insistence on leaving.

"Thank you, messere," she said quietly, the gratitude in her eyes almost painful to note. "Now, are you hurt' You need to eat and rest, but it's best to make sure you're healing before that happens."

As she spoke, a small, sun-haired girl shuffled through the door Svarn had disappeared through, one thumb tucked into her mouth, dragging a ragged blanket behind her.

"I can tend to myself," he told her, a little stubbornly. It wasn't that he didn't trust her so much as it was a matter of pride. "There is a medkit in my pack," he added, his face and hands mostly cleaned of black blood, revealing handsome, if somewhat rugged, features. "Hello," he greeted the little girl, lowering himself into the chair as she shuffled into the room. "My name is Aiden. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"As you wish," Sigrun nodded, glancing down at the little girl with a fond smile. "Are the boys with Svarn?"

The girl nodded, not bothering to take her thumb out of her mouth as she studied Aiden solemnly with big blue eyes. It seemed to take a long time before she removed her thumb to speak. "You have black hair."

"Aye," he replied in response to her observation. It was one of the many differences between high and low-landers. "And you have very pretty blond hair and blue eyes," he pointed out, with his first authentic smile since arriving in this place. "What is your name?"

"Siv." This came out with a bit of a lisp - the thumb-sucking was evidently taking advantage of the fact that she was missing both front teeth for the time being. "Tarben an' Hakon are boys. Are you a boy?"

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:26 EST
"Of a sort. A grown boy," he replied, leaving the cloth in the bowl and reaching for the steaming mug Sigrun had left beside him. "I am from ..." He hesitated, unsure how to explain in a way she might understand. "From the other side of the mountain."

Little Siv considered this for a moment, absorbing it happily enough. "I got a kitten," she offered then, with the charming disinterest of any small child. "Want to see?"

At the hearth, Sigrun chuckled at the change of subject.

"Of course!" he replied, as enthusiastically as he could, despite exhaustion and pain. If his belongings had been brought here, then that included his sword, but he had promised not to harm these people, and he intended to keep that promise.

Siv nodded, shuffling back out of sight. Aiden wasn't left alone for long, however; within a minute, two boys came shoving into the room, both older than Siv, but both bearing the same sun-kissed hair. The younger of the two, however, had dark eyes where his companion's were blue.

"Who're you?" the elder demanded as they skidded to a halt. "Did Father bring you home to mate the Dawn Rider?" He grunted as the younger boy punched him in the stomach.

The hunter was startled at first by the boys' arrival, curious as they were. He had no plans on mating with the Dawn Rider, though a plan of sorts was starting to form in his mind - an idea that might work out well for all of them.

"I am Aiden ap Owen of the Lowland Guard," he told them, giving them at least some of the truth. He chuckled at the obvious camaraderie and competition between the pair. "You let down your guard," he pointed out to the elder of the two. "And you," he said, addressing the other. "It is not wise to start a fight with someone who is bigger than you are." Anyone who had seen him fight or seen his sword would know he was more than a mere Guard, but he saw no point in revealing more than that, until he gained their trust, if he ever did.

The younger boy grinned as his elder was told what he'd done wrong, and scowled at the warning Aiden then gave him. "Everyone's bigger'n me," he complained. "Wouldn't get to fight no one if I did that."

The elder boy snickered. "'Cos you cheat," he countered, and that would have set off another round of rough-housing if Sigrun hadn't intervened.

"Don't you two start," she warned them, running a fond hand over the elder boy's hair. "Tabren, go and fetch in the milk pail. Hakon, put your boots on."

As the boys parted ways to go about their chores, Siv came back into view, carrying a scruffy little kitten in her arms.

Aiden didn't bother pointing out that the boy might not always be the smallest, as their mother seemed to have them well in hand. He sipped at the drink she had left him with, its warmth spreading through him and easing his hurts, relaxing him a little. He felt oddly safe here in their home, but not so safe as to feel content. He envied them, in a way, knowing such a life was not for someone like him.

Little Siv dumped her kitten directly in his lap, climbing up onto the bench that ran the length of the table, her ragged blanket still clutched in her hand. "D'you like my kitten?" she asked him pointedly, ignoring the fact that the boys had been there at all, it seemed.

"It's hard to say when we've only just met. I don't even know his or her name," the hunter pointed out, one hand going without thought to curl around the kitten to hold him or her steady on his lap. Oh, yes, this was a place where one could find contentment in a life of family and friends, but he could not allow himself to entertain such thoughts.

"It's a girl, silly," the little girl told him, as though it was patently obvious. The little kitten mewed pathetically, all bright ginger fur and no coordination. "She's just Cat. Like Mamae." She offered him a gap-toothed smile that only broadened at the sight of Hakon, the younger of the two boys, hopping back into the room as he pulled his boots on.

"Is Katla coming back for breakfast?" he asked, clambering onto the bench opposite Siv.

Sigrun glanced over at them. "She'll be here," she promised.

"Cat," Aiden echoed, wondering if he could convince the little girl of a better name. "If she is just Cat, are you just Girl" Is your brother just Boy' What if there is another Cat' How will you tell them apart' How will you call one and not the other?" he asked, giving her food for thought.

"She's my Cat," Siv insisted stubbornly. "And I'm Siv, and I don't have a brother."

Hakon laughed. "Siv's not my sister," he objected, shaking his head. "I don't have a sister."

"Neither do I," the other boy, Tabren, added, heaving the milk pail in through the door for Sigrun. "I'm Tabren. That's Hakon. Are you sure you're not mating the Dawn Rider?"

Siv scowled at him. "Stop sayin' that!"

"I see. I stand corrected," Aiden said, his expression a mixture of amusement and apology, though he stood by his point. He wasn't quite sure how they were all related or why they all lived under the same roof, but he'd assumed they'd all been family.

Svarn came into the room at that point, patting Sigrun familiarly on the behind and earning himself a smack with her spoon for his trouble, laughing as he sat himself down beside Hakon. "Now, now, why the snarl, little Siv?" he asked cheerfully. "These boys been unkind again?"

"All I asked was if the Dawn Rider's going to mate," Tabren complained, silenced with a look from Svarn.

"That's no one's business, and definitely not yours," the big man said sternly, glancing to Aiden. "Settled a bit, have you?"

Aiden certainly wasn't about to remark on the mating business, reminding himself not to get too comfortable or familiar here and not to get too fond of these people as he wasn't planning on staying. "Just being polite," the hunter replied, reminding the big man without saying so that at least he knew how to be civil.

Svarn nodded to him, a smile on his own face as Sigrun began to serve bowls of steaming meat porridge - a decent enough meal to begin or end a day. As the children started to scrape spoons through the mixture, the door opened to admit the woman called the Dawn Rider, and a yell went up from quiet little Siv.

The little girl scrambled down from the table to throw her arms around the woman's neck as she crouched to hug the child close with a warm smile. "Mamae!"

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:27 EST
Well, that explained a lot. So, the child wasn't the daughter of Sigrun and Svran, but of Katla, the one called the Dawn Rider - the woman the boys seemed convinced he'd been brought here to mate with. It didn't explain what had happened to the father's child though, assuming that was the case. His only reaction was a brief glance over at the pair, dark brows arching upwards before he turned his attention in earnest to the porridge in his bowl. He couldn't quite remember when the last time was that he'd had a decent hot meal that didn't consist of dried meat or stale bread.

Katla, it seemed, was a different creature in her own home, with her family about her. Warm and fond with the children, she took her place at the table with her daughter on her lap, sharing her bowl with Siv and the kitten as she inquired after the boys and Sigrun. The conversation flowed around Aiden easily - they were definitely a family, but the bonds between each member were not so easily defined by an outsider.

"So, lowlander, do you still wish me dead?" she asked eventually, raising a brow in Aiden's direction as she wiped her daughter's face clean.

The kitten had abandoned Aiden's lap and found its owner, mewling for attention as the little family enjoyed their morning meal. "I did not say that," Aiden protested at Katla's question, nor had he even implied it. Yes, he wanted - no, needed - to leave, but he wished these people no harm.

Svarn roared with laughter at his reaction, shaking his great head as Katla laughed with him. "Not like us, then," she commented, scratching the little kitten's head as the creature clambered back into Siv's arms. "You and I need to talk, but you need to rest, too. See that ladder?" She nodded to where a ladder rose into the recesses of a loft set over the rooms where presumably Svarn and his wife slept. "There's room up there for you, when you wish it. Don't leave the hut without me, or Svarn, though. There's plenty of unfriendly eyes here."

His eyes answered for him, flashing a little at the laughter that was presumably at his expense, but it was the mention of talking that had his gaze softening with agreement. It did not appear they wanted to kill him, just yet, but it was not his own life that worried him. He knew he couldn't tarry here very long, but if he kept on at the pace he'd been going without rest, he'd be no good to anyone once he reached his destination. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said, looking pointedly at each of them, but that was all he said before making short work of the porridge.

The meal was only the beginning of the day for Sigrun and the children, but for Katla, Svarn, and Aiden, it was the end of a very long night. Sigrun sent her mate off to sleep promptly as soon as he was finished eating; Katla lingered a little while longer to cuddle with Siv before sending her little girl off to do her chores with the boys. She met Aiden's eyes, jerking her head to the loft. "We try to keep the truth from the children as much as we can," she told him, rising to begin climbing up the ladder herself. "Come and tell me your piece."

"Understandable," he replied, regarding the children. They would learn the truth soon enough. He agreed there was no point in terrifying them and giving them nightmares at such a young age, though he'd not been spared such things as a child. The food and drink, as simple as it was, was starting to make him feel sleepy, but he still had some wounds to tend to before he could rest. He thought he might as well tell her his story in the meantime, and let her judge as she might. Whatever she decided, he had no choice but to leave, whether she agreed to help him or not. And so, he followed her up the ladder to the loft, one slow step at a time.

The roof up there was low enough that even she had to stoop, but it was a spacious room he found there, with one wide low bed, and a couple of chests standing beneath a small window. Katla paused to undo her weapons belt and set it to one side, perching on the end of the bed to unlace the wraps from her boots and tug them off. "Only one bed, but I doubt you're the sort to try and take advantage," she commented.

"I can sleep on the floor," he told her, as he swung a look around and found only the one bed. Long years in the wild had taught him how to sleep just about anywhere. Finding his belongings, he first checked to make sure nothing had been tampered with before opening his pack to find the medkit he kept there.

"What's the point of that when the bed's plenty wide enough?" she pointed out with a raised brow. "I'll only be sleeping a few hours, anyway. You won't be jumped on by Siv." Her entire expression softened when she mentioned her daughter - the little girl was clearly the center of her world.

"What happened to her father?" he asked, as he searched through his pack before pulling out another smaller pack that served as his medkit. He had a feeling he already knew the answer to his question, but he wanted to know for sure.

She stilled, though only for a moment. "He challenged for leadership of the tribe," she said quietly. "He lost." There was obviously more to it than that, but just as he was wary of them, they were wary of him. It was clear that this family felt they were in a precarious position within the hold, and just as clear that they had many supporters despite that feeling. Quite what that meant was not so clear. "Why are you in the mountains" Who is it you seek?"

So, there was some sort of power struggle going on here - one he wasn't sure he wanted to get involved in, and yet, perhaps if he helped her, she might help him in return. He set the medkit on one of the chests, stilling for a moment at her question before unfastening his coat and carefully tugging it off his shoulders. "My sister," he replied after a long moment of silence.

Katla was silent as long as he was, unbinding the layers of fur and chain and leather that made up her armor to set the protective layers to one side. Trusting him with her unprotected back. "How long since they took her?" she asked in a low tone.

"I've been tracking them for a week," he replied. Tracking them tirelessly with little time for rest and no time for sleep. "And I know what you're going to say, but I'd know it if she was dead," he added, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. If it had been anyone else, it might have been dismissed as wishful thinking, but he would have felt her death if it had happened. He folded his coat and laid it neatly aside, before tugging his tunic over his head. With his back to her, he hadn't really noticed her stripping down, though he could hear the shedding of her armor and knew she was making herself comfortable. Thankfully, she was unable to see the wince on his face at the simplest movement. There were tears in his coat and tunic that would need mending, but he'd been fortunate enough to only have suffered bruises, some of which were painfully large and discolored.

"Don't presume to know my thoughts, lowlander," she warned him, her voice a gentle purr behind him underlaid with steel. "You do not know these lands as I do, nor do you know the dead as I do. Your sister is not dead. But you may come to wish she had died in that attack." There was a heaviness about her voice as she spoke, knowledge of what she was failing to describe dark in her tone.

He turned his head toward her, eyes narrowed, though there was no venom in her voice. "I know more than you might think," he told her, sounding not only defensive but weary and worried. "I have seen what they do. If I cannot save her, then I can at least give her peace, but I cannot do either of those things if I am here." He pulled a small jar from the medkit, unscrewed the cap, and dabbed a little ointment onto his fingers before smearing it over his hurts - at least, those he could see and reach.

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:28 EST
She sighed, rolling her eyes at the arrogance of the man. She had lived and fought in these mountains all her life; he had entered here only a few days before, and yet he presumed to tell her that he knew more of this place and the dead than she did" Twisting, she watched him for a moment, moving to kneel at his back as she reached for the ointment. "You have other hurts you cannot reach," she told him by way of explanation, covering her fingers with the stuff to smear it over other cuts and bruises he could not see.

It wasn't arrogance so much as experience. He wished he was wrong; he wished they were both wrong, but the longer it took to find his sister, the less hopeful he felt. "I do not wish to put your life or the lives of your people in danger, but I cannot stay here," he told her yet again, waiting to see what she said to that now that she knew his reason and purpose for being on the mountain. He hardly seemed to notice the fact that she was smearing ointment over his back, too lost in thought, his heart heavy with worry. "If you understand family, then you understand why I must go," he added. There were other marks of old wounds on his back, signs that he was as much a warrior as she was. There was also a tattoo that had been burned into his flesh - a strange symbol that had no obvious meaning.

The symbol he wore drew her attention. It was ....familiar somehow, like she'd seen it somewhere before but couldn't quite work out where. His words, however, drew her back to the present. "You think very little of us, don't you?" she said disapprovingly, tending to those cuts carefully before handing the pot back to him. "I've not said a word about keeping you here, but you assume I would. What you'll do is sleep, and when you wake, you'll make a show of your bow skill in front of the tribe. No one will question your place when we walk out at dusk."

"I aided you in your fight, without expecting anything in return," Aiden reminded her, as he turned to face her, unable to hide the weariness and the pain and the grief from his face. "I understand you don't trust me, and I understand I must earn your trust, but if you will help me in this, I will be forever in your debt."

She eased back onto one heel, the other knee tucked against her chest as she held his gaze. "You have no idea where you were, do you?" she asked quietly. "We couldn't have left you there, and you wouldn't have come willingly even if we had asked. The revenant was a warning - it guards a tunnel to the Heart of the Father. Another would have spawned within half an hour. You would have to be lucky every time. They need only be lucky once."

"The Heart of the Father," he echoed. Okay, so maybe she did know more about the abominations than he did. She did live on the mountain, after all. It would seem neither knew very much about the other. "What does that mean?" he asked, meeting her gaze, the fact that he was only half-dressed forgotten.

She frowned, almost confused by his lack of knowledge in this arena. "Do you not know the Father?" she asked in surprise. "He who made the earth, who raised the mountains; the Lord of the World" His Heart is in the deepest part of the highest peak, poisoned by the dead these many generations past."

His expression betrayed his confusion at her words. "I'm afraid I do not, but tell me about these revenants. What do you mean one would take its place" How are they made" Where do they come from?" he asked further.

"You hunt prey that you do not know?" Katla seemed astonished, staring at him. "You are either brave or a fool, lowlander. What do you know of the legion of the dead" Do you know how to distinguish between them, to know what will kill each?"

"I do not claim to know everything. That does not stop me from hunting them," he replied, pausing a moment as he turned to return the ointment to his pack. There were likely some things he knew that her people did not; perhaps they could share information. "Teach me what you know," he beseeched her, turning back around.

It was a lot to teach, and a lot to learn, but she knew a stubborn soul when she saw one. She had one herself. Sighing, Katla raised her hand, folding down each finger and her thumb as she listed the varieties of undead she had fought all her life. "Corpses, ghouls, revenants, abominations, demons," she said, holding his gaze. "Last night, we fought corpses and ghouls under the command of a revenant. Had you encountered any of them before that moment?"

"Aye," he replied, lowering himself to sit beside her before he fell down and folding his legs beneath him. "I have fought them all before, except for the revenant. I have never encountered such as him," he replied. As experienced and well-traveled as he was, he knew there were still things that he did not know.

She nodded thoughtfully. "A revenant is a dark spirit bound to the broken form of a corpse," she explained to him. "The spirit cannot be killed, only dispossessed, and it will take another form as soon as it can. The armor, the sword, the shield, they are a part of the spirit itself. No matter how fragile the body, the revenant will fortify it."

Aiden's expression turned thoughtful at her explanation and he turned to look for the sword that had been long ago entrusted to him. He had killed the revenant, or so he'd thought, but had he really killed it or only the body it had possessed" "There is no way to defeat it?" he asked curiously.

"None that we have found," she told him regretfully. "Our legends speak of blades forged in the Heart of the Father, touched by the Lady, washed by the Mother - blades that could kill any spirit, any demon. But we have never found one, nor the hand that could wield it."

Her mention of the Lady drew his attention, and he turned back from his consideration of the sword. "I believe I might have such a blade," he confessed, deciding to trust her. After all, who made a better ally than one who shared the same enemy"

"I've not the skill to discern one," she admitted ruefully. "We would have to show it to an augur, but One-Who-Watches is the brother of Old-Tooth. The Thane would take your blade from you if word came to him of a true legend in his hold." She frowned, considering her options. "There is one other who might know it for a legend-blade," she said thoughtfully. "Eldwynne."

He frowned. As fascinating as it would be to find out the origins of the blade, there was only one problem. "I do not have time for this, Katla. I need to find my sister before it's too late," he reminded her with a weary sigh. If it wasn't too late already.

Katla

Date: 2017-06-28 09:28 EST
She drummed her fingers against her lips, pausing only a moment when he said her name. "Eldwynne doesn't show herself unless she chooses to, anyway," she told him. "If your hunt took you to a passage guarded by a revenant, then your sister is in the Heart. And if your sword truly is a legend-blade, then that passage will be unguarded tonight." It was tempting - very tempting. "Can you ride?"

"Aye," he replied without hesitation. Though he'd been tracking the dead on foot up the mountain, he'd started the voyage on horseback. His heart was beating hard suddenly, as adrenaline rushed through his veins. She was going to help him, and it was going to happen tonight. Somehow, he just knew it.

Katla was still frowning as she murmured, almost to herself. "It'll have to be a small party," she was saying. "Svarn will have to stay here; Old-Tooth can't be trusted with our family any longer. Sven and Bjarth ....that would have to do." Her pale eyes snapped to his. "You need to sleep, and you need to demonstrate your skill for the tribe. Once they see you're touched by the Lady, they'll not argue your place by my side."

He didn't understand everything she was saying, but she seemed to be leaning toward taking him to find his sister sooner, rather than later. "Who is Eldwynne?" he asked, more than curious. He hardly knew these people, and though he wanted to trust them, he needed to understand what she was telling him.

She shook her head, glancing up at him. "She's an exile," she told him. "She dabbles in black and blood magics - she's not safe to have within a hold. The dead don't seem to bother her, though. She's safe enough in her woods."

"And you want her to look at the blade?" he asked, having trouble wrapping his weary brain around what it was she was proposing to do.

"If she shows herself to us, aye," she nodded, reaching up to rub her neck wearily. "But that's a problem for tonight. Now we both need sleep." She pulled herself up onto her feet, crawling over the bed to the far side of the wide sleeping bench to settle down with a low sigh.

He remained where he was while she settled herself down to sleep, unsure if he should join her, despite the invitation. Nothing was going to happen between them but sleep, and yet, he hesitated. There was no question he needed to get some rest and could probably fall asleep right where he was sitting.

"Get in the bloody bed, lowlander." It wasn't exactly a harsh comment, more of a sleepy command. If they were going out into the mountains that night, he needed to sleep, and he'd sleep better in the bed than where he was sitting.

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath before snagging his tunic, pulling it on over his head, and climbing into the bed beside her. He rolled over onto one side so that they were back to back and fell asleep almost as soon as his eyelids fell closed.