Abyssal Road Trip

“You want me to do what?” Julia exclaimed, looking at Torm as if he’d gone insane.

“Use your Telepathy to share what you wish taught. We can’t share Celestial tactics or knowledge with them but your Mortal ones? There is no law against it,” Torm explained, making it all sounds so reasonable and straightfreorward. “This way, you avoid Mortals learning things about your world you don’t wish shared. Teach it to the Vargr Drangijaz quickly and they’ll teach it to the platoons. They’ll also be able to get a sense for potential recruits to provide rank to in the future.”

Indeed, he made it sound so reasonable that Julia was getting concerned about what the catch was going to be.

“Have you spoken to them about this?”

“No, the idea occurred when I was coming here this evening,” Torm stated. “You taught Yngvarr all those subjects in an evening. Is this harder or easier to learn?”

“Easier,” admitted Julia, though she couldn’t stop the concerned frown. “But how risky is it using Telepathy like that on a Celestial? What happens if my brain explodes? Would that count as getting killed or killing myself?” The more she said, the more her concern grew. As her voice rose in volume, Torm beckoned for her to calm before he replied.

“I’ve had a Demon speak in my mind in the past. She didn’t explode, unfortunately, and she was only a lesser Ka’larg,” said Torm, his rumbling voice sour with distaste.

“Those snake things are gross, though technically they’re snake women. Honestly, though I’m loathe to credit them as actually being female, they creep me out more than a Dretch,” Julia said. The memory of the Demon’s flayed form and the dripping ichor made her feel like gagging. The ones she’d seen since that first among the dredging crew of Hrz’Styrn she’d found equally repulsive. “Can I stick to just referring to them as it?”

“You can call those things whatever you wish,” Torm replied, clearly amused.

What are you laughing at buster, my choice of words?

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” grumbled Julia, her accompanying glare only making him smile more.

“Verdandi liked the plan but only had time, material and energy for three Summonings. We’ll meet you here after the evening meal to discuss the schedule. They’re assisting with some other Temple matters first.”

“This isn’t just speaking into their minds; it’s sharing my past. Do you want to learn as well?” asked Julia hesitantly, knowing Yngvarr had picked up more than she had intended.

“Not if it makes you uncomfortable; I’d prefer only to learn what you wish to share,” reassured Torm.

“Am I that transparent?” Julia groaned, wanting to bury her face in the grimoire she’d been studying before his interruption.

“Lots of practice, and it’s not an issue having True Sight on presently, since you are actually wearing real clothes,” said Torm.

“Shoo, fine, come back later, stop being mean,” Julia insisted, waving towards the door.

{{Yeah, we get to be mean, not the guys. }}

“I might tease but I’d never deliberately be mean to you.”

“Go!” Julia exclaimed, glad she couldn’t blush at least.

Damn you B. Now he’s going to think that was about what he said.

{{ Well, your mind went to the gutter, didn’t it? Rach always said being nice was more her style with a blowjob. }}

{{ How fast do you think his tongue could cause you to orgasm? }}

Julia kept muttering to herself as B continued her usual outrageous observations. When Julia’s imagination started on potential issues with the teaching session, she paced.

Julia had spent a few bells trying to keep calm by the time there was a solid knock on Yngvarr’s front door. Her freezing for a moment gave Torm the time needed to answer it first. When she saw him tense in the doorway, her nerves jumped, and even Yngvarr frowned in concern at his reaction.

“Good evening, Torm. I know you weren’t expecting me as well. I’m here at Óðinn’s orders. Am I allowed to come inside, or should the four of us leave?”

The woman’s softly spoken words were in a lovely soprano spoken in Celestial, that carried clearly. Nodding, Torm stepped back, and as he moved away, Julia got an unrestricted view of the speaker. As she stepped within, Julia’s True Sight shuddered against the conflict between her physical appearance and the truth held within.

Externally the woman’s appearance seemed that of a Nordic warrior, clad in steel with a spear held lightly in one hand. Instead of the chain hauberk Julia had commonly seen, she wore a fancy breastplate, bracers, greaves, armoured boots, a jerkin and leggings of deep red leather. The steel pieces looked decoratively chased in gleaming bronze, and their buckles shone with silver that brightened as the very presence of the Celestial dropped Julia back into her seat.

True Sight presented Julia a strangely distorted perception as she came in the door. The Shapeshift effect was obvious, as Julia could still see the reality beneath. However, unlike other facades Julia had seen through, the appearance fought against Julia’s Power. Layered wings of pure white shimmered in and out of existence, but even when visible to Julia’s perception it was clear they were hidden within the form. The image of coal black hair cascaded across her shoulders, fighting to conceal the reality of pale gold. Just as the armour shuddered between its mundane appearance and gleaming gold, that carried the comforting warmth of summer days.

[True Sight [Ad] (18->19)]

When she gazed at Julia in return, her eyes were the blazing silver-white of a lightning strike one moment and plain grey the next. The effect of them making it nearly impossible for Julia to take in her facial features. Though even they didn’t hold constant in her vision; instead rippled between solid Norse cheeks and jaw to a refined, almost ethereal Elven beauty. Though there was an air about her that spoke of a blade’s keen edge rather than mere beauty.

Her very presence made it hard for Julia to register the others that followed at her heels, but it was almost a relief as she did. Similarly armoured, though without the fancy fittings, the Vargr Drangijaz were far different to Torm in many respects. Unlike Torm’s calm, protective vibe, these warriors had a fierce energy about them, wolf-like eyes and coiled intensity. Each more compressed in their current form than Torm had ever been, their motions shifted them swiftly from one position to the next. The fur that True Sight showed was the colour of dried blood, and their steely amber gaze locked on her as if fixed on prey. To Julia, their human mask was only thinly present compared to their Truth, as a heat mirage in the desert. The differences between them only evidenced by their scars standing out within the fur of their wolfish features and the different weapons they carried.

{{Run! You have before, run right now! }}

Despite the panic in B’s voice, Julia didn’t take her gaze from the new arrivals. The first of them within the house held an axe clasped in each hand. They weren’t the unwieldy things of movies, even a glance at them spoke of swiftness; the twinned hafts only as long as a forearm capped with a single sweeping blade. A dark stain set in contrast across the wooden hafts swirled in elaborately knotted pattern formed into the shape of a wolf; its open maw positioned to bite down where the axe’s head collared the haft. Looking at the axes made an itch form along Julia’s spine as if the blade’s metal had already sunk in deep.

Another at least had his weapon sheathed, though the broad blade wasn’t on a harness. Instead, he held it as if it were a babe laying cradled along his arm. The blade’s length enough that the sheath’s tip sat well past his shoulder, nearly brushing the doorframe top even while held at an angle; the only comfort for Julia was in that his hand wasn’t already on the grip. Though his posture told Julia the blade could be instantly free: likely he’d flick aside the sheath or even send it at her. Its battered and stained surface making it apparent that action had frequently happened in the past.

The third’s weapon was a bow, though what they held didn’t have a string. Though given its length and sturdy look, only the notched and shaped ends clarified it was a bow and not a strange quarterstaff. Thicker than her forearm and crafted of dark redwood, its colour reminded Julia of old violins whose stain came from blood in the lacquer. Her mind skipped to tales of red caps as B whispered slyly about her blood adding a lovely coat to it next. The bow showed exquisite crafting, with the appearance of a tree’s roots digging their way through rocky soil; the energy of the bow making Julia wonder if it was dedicated to the world tree’s roots.

Analysis

[Name: Oydis

Species: Valkyrie]

[Analysis [Ad] (28->29)

Mental Hardening [M] (17->18)

Pain Tolerance [J] (10->11)]

Julia mentally groaned under the pressure of even the minimal details Analysis returned, as pain like a mortal migraine speared through her awareness past Pain Tolerance and Mental Hardening’s buffers.

{{Wow, back to needing a fucking safe word! Run bitch! }}

The anger in B’s voice Julia held at bay, even as it buffered against her like an internal hurricane.

They’re Celestials here to help the women.

{{That doesn’t mean they’re your fucking friends! }}

It doesn’t matter. I’m not risking sharing my memories with a Mortal again, but rules bind the Celestials.

After dealing with her own emotions and the pain from past lives that B had forced on her, Julia recognised what was driving B’s rage - fear.

Don’t you dare lash out at me! I’m not suppressing my fear, I’m accepting and dealing with it, so don’t you dare spew more crap on top.

“I’m sure this isn’t sensible,” Julia said, glancing between them. “Who’s first?”

“You can teach multiple people at once. Is that not correct?” questioned Oydis, even as her tone made it clear she knew the answer.

“Yes, that’s correct with humans. I’ve started leading a score of the survivors to open Affinities at once. I don’t know if this will even work with Celestials,” Julia responded, glancing between the four newcomers and a clearly surprised Torm.

“Either teach us together or do not, and we will return to Ásgarðr,” stated Oydis.

“How about one at a time? If it’s a matter of not trusting me to touch your mind alone, can’t you learn alongside the others then assist with instruction once you’re familiar with the drills?” questioned Julia, trying to keep her rising anxiety in check.

“Torm told me you can teach us fastest using this method. Óðinn’s vision said we should either act with lightning swiftness or else return; together would be the fastest path so we should take it. Otherwise, we should leave you to use purely Mortal resources.”

“Óðinn said that?” Julia questioned, suppressing a groan of frustration at the news.

Norse lore claims Óðinn has visions but just because something is in a vision, do I risk this?

{{No! Send them on their way. }}

“Yes, he spoke to me before he sent a vision to his High Priest to arrange my Summoning. He did so even before Verdandi’s call went out for Vargr Drangijaz to aid her,” replied Oydis, none of the new Vargr Drangijaz looking inclined to speak.

{{Get out! Tell them all to fuck off! I don’t want us doing this! }}

“Fine. Let’s do this,” Julia stated. B screamed in rage as Julia drew on Harmony and touched Telepathy’s net to the four Celestial minds.

Memories enfolded her, though now five suns sat high in the summer sky where there should have only been one.

The cadence of boots clapped as a near single sound as she watches the assembled cadets from the parade ground sideline. Next to her, Sarah gave Rach and Julia a grin. Julia still couldn’t remember how Sarah had talked them into joining, but the camping and orienteering sounded like fun. Mal’s view that as long as the cadet officers weren’t arsehats, she’d have fun had sealed the deal, especially since Sarah had already talked Rach into joining. Even with no knowledge, subtle differences between uniforms made it clear who took things seriously.

The hot summer suns kept reflecting off the concrete even when memories from winter came; the sounds of cadets marching jumped memories forward week by week. As she marched along in step with the others, the suns’ heat grew so much worse. As the path of the march took them past the school’s cricket nets, the chains dividing them rattled and shook. Screams of rage echoed from far away as the suns grew hotter still, the concrete underfoot reflecting the searing golden light burning through her issued dress greens. Hard boots struck down together, echoing as time lurched and shook within her.

“Make them stop!”

The voice screamed louder, fires raged, and need alone pushed Julia further through her memories. The sharp ozone from a cloudless, golden sky as a bitter copper dripped across her tongue. Regular boot steps echoing in time, as blood pulsed in her ears to the tempo of the beat. Right dress, left turns, right turns, about face, forward march, one after another the repetition blended through her memory. Years spent in the cadets shifted past, as memory jumped past her life’s other events to visit that training from week to week, camp to camp.

When the memories turned to drill squad, the moment she shouldered the old L1A1 SLR a confusion echoed back to her from somewhere skyward. Setting it aside, she kept herself within the moment and positioned the rifle to carry it carefully. The rifle’s weight held in a steady grip, and the back of the barrel tucked firmly back against her shoulder. There were drills to learn, things to do, the desire to push beyond her pain and share the memories all-consuming. Presenting arms, ready arms, and the fun of razzle-dazzle. The rifle’s solid weight spinning in her hands as they performed for yet another charity fundraiser. Putting on a show and helping with the community stalls afterwards before performing again.

She’d lost the reason for travelling these memories in the searing pain. With nothing to say when to stop, she focused on sharing it all. The same voice kept screaming and ranting, as chains rattled and shook, even as Julia walked the old memories again in repeat, unsure if those watching on had learned all they needed. The beckoning of blazing suns showing there were still students present, and that was what mattered.

Chains scream and rattle as the melted metal reformed and flung itself towards the gold light. Julia raised her hands at its motion, and at her conductor’s gesture, white flames sang their screaming reply and metal liquefies. Whether for the second time, or the tenth, the metal again sat bubbling upon the ground. Disciplined focus pulsed in tempo to the remembered echoing steps, and the heat of day pushed aside she dug in again.

Pages of Sun Tzu flickered in her hand as states changed, and she fought again to know herself at least. Too many enemies were currently unknown, but she had to know herself. As boots struck in marching tempo, the world lurched in heatstroke and the reformed chains rattled with the rage. The words on a page burned within her mind ‘Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt’. Chains leapt again, but this time Julia grabbed the black bowl resting against her Soul and she became the eclipse as the world within her memories collapsed.

The golden light above eclipsed as she held the makeshift black shield aloft in her burning white grasp; the chains striking towards the suns fell into the shield without even a ripple. Light from around the shield’s rim blinded her even as the darkness of the eclipse deepened. Burning fiercely both inside and without as her internal sun seared through her mind, and she stood glowing above a black ocean.

Illuminated by the radiance of her burning aura, a strange yet familiar broken box sat floating. Flames licked the surface the moment she held it and remembered seeing its broken lock for the first time. As she smiled and visualised herself standing on an isle, sudden fury roared at her from across the gap. As she blinked in the mind palace Julia knew herself again and her gaze lifted from the broken box to the severed chains in B’s grasp.

“The boxes aren’t yours to destroy, are they? You told me they’re in your custody, not that you’re the owner. You implied you had control of what happened to them all. But you lied, even if by omission.”

“I can open them all, throw it all away.”

B snarled, her eyes burning with blazing black flames as the shouted words struck far louder than V’s battering voice.

“Can you?” Julia calmly questioned. And at those simple words, the rage stopped.

Julia knelt and set the box on the ground of her island, pieces of the catch reformed at her touch, but Julia didn’t bother locking it. Memories, painful and treasured alike, folded under her attention and formed within the box. She acknowledged and accepted them as she set the box carefully on a shelf that had never been. As she glanced at B, the next broken box shimmered in the burning whiteness of her grasp.

“You can certainly empty them, but you can’t destroy the boxes or what is in them,” Julia rebuked, the firmly spoken words chiming with steel will. “There is no point lying about it. If you could destroy them, I’d never have found this one. I can even tell it contained my regrets while I was in cadets, mistakes I’d compartmentalised.”

“Like you can tell them apart,” B snarled, her disbelief stalking along the closest edge of her isle, leaking darkness like a bridal train.

“Harmony lets me feel the resonance of the memories that were in it,” Julia interrupted before B’s rant could continue. “So yes, I can tell.”

As Julia took delight in the rage that was burning in B’s gaze, Julia shook her head at B, and as she went to speak, Julia’s next words interrupted again.

“You made it seem as if you cast it into oblivion, but it’s not oblivion, is it? A Soul is infinite, that void is not a place of destruction, it’s just the space we’re not using yet. It’s why V’s had to yell to be heard. He wasn’t really getting close to us, just close enough that he was intruding on the space of our Soul. He’s just so powerful that when he gets in our personal space it’s worse than the Valkyrie coming into the room.”

“Your axis and mine cross, where we touch, we’re whole. You can’t destroy what is ours together, or are they actually mine, and not yours? Since they’re memories I formed, they’re mine or at least ours. There are rules within my mind and Soul, you’re a part of me and perhaps that means I’m a part of you,” Julia said. “I don’t know for sure, but I’ll not stand by complacently with what you tried to do.”

The memories of the chains striking towards the Celestials, repeatedly trying to bind them to B’s will, ignited a seething fury within her. Even a single attempt was too much, yet B had tried repeatedly to enslave others, as she’d once shown the Sisterhood enslaved and it made Julia sick.

“You don’t know crap Julia, but you’re so ready to judge.”

“I might not know everything I need. But I know what I won’t stand for, and I know you’re not my boss. You don’t get to set all the rules. The moment you empty the boxes, their contents come to me, so they belong to me. I compromised before, but after that shit, you can just fuck off.”

Julia’s voice growled low and dangerous as her will bore down, determined to have her say.

“You can’t control them all at once if I destroy the boxes.” B snarled, and the stacks of boxes appeared and shook.

“Are you sure I can’t?” Julia taunted, eyeing the stacks with pure hunger. “I’ll just have to do whatever it takes, one step at a time, and I’ll keep standing the fuck back up. So yeah, you toss them out and we’ll see what happens. Throw them all open if you dare! I’m not planning to lock them all up again. They’re part of what made me who I am, however faint that connection might be. I might even learn from those memories better options for freedom.”

The second broken box Julia had held reformed and filled before being she set it on a growing shelf where it sat unlocked.

“Stupid bitch, you need me!”

B’s voice erupted in a furious roar, and Julia directed a disgusted gaze back at her Id.

“That doesn’t mean you’re my fucking friend!” Julia retorted, throwing B’s words back in her face as white flames roiled across her thoughts.

As a third box appeared, the chains B held ignited in roaring blackness and sprang towards Julia. A lance of white flame screamed toward B’s dodging form even as Julia ducked below the chains’ path.

Devouring night, fought burning day, the impact of the forces set the isles into motion, causing them to dance about. When they came together, they hit hard and as they twisted, their outcrops jammed and stuck fast, even as sparks from the impact plunged into the waiting darkness. As the battle raged on, ancient shelving went toppling into that darkness and a Sun came to life below.

Julia’s clothing had burnt away as a tempest of energies had forced them to retreat. The chair had turned to ash, dropping her sprawling to the ground enfolded in ever-shifting flames. Impossible music rang from the room, her voice an impossible multi-part chorus with too many voices to count. Some sang high enough to threaten glass if the room’s contents hadn’t already melted. Crystal-like sopranos, altos, tenors, and more somehow sang unique pieces that fought, screamed and raged, yet still were pieces of a whole.

“Julia, can you hear me!?” Torm yelled from the door. As he watched entwining energies, black and white, rose clawing higher still, and Yngvarr poured more Mana into his wards.

“What is going on?” Alfarr demanded as he forced his way into the house.

“Chains kept trying to entangle us as her knowledge came, she was melting them,” Odyis stated firmly, a hand turning her flame blackened spear. “When the attacks started I was expecting action to be required, yet each time chains rose she felled them, white flames melted them apart.”

“What knowledge?” asked Alfarr. His concentration sharpening as he glanced between the evening’s guests, alerted to their nature by the pressure of their power touching his own.

“Teaching our guests her memories of military drills,” snapped Yngvarr, as his attention stayed fixed on the wards.

“She fights her own Ragnarok,” Odyis said, her tone firm.

“You knew this was going to happen?” snarled Rana, his tone dragging the Celestial’s attention past Alfarr. He had slipped into the house almost unnoticed in Alfarr’s wake, and stood with sword and dagger already out. Unlike the Norse Celestials, his focus didn’t hold mistrust towards Julia, but towards the Norse presence.

“It was not surety, merely possibility. A vision is not something carved in stone, especially for one without destiny. Whether her change will be for the better we’ll see shortly. Yet regardless, better it occurs now than when the Hag calls her home.” replied Odyis, her flat tone unconcerned.

“Why now?” asked Torm, his focus drawn away from Julia at Odyis’ words.

“It allows us to destroy Epochē’s Herald if all goes wrong,” Odyis stated, unbothered by Torm’s clenching fists.

“A change that turned our sitting room into a pit of Hell,” Alfarr groaned, trying to see more beyond the Celestial obstructions.

“More a neighbourhood of the Abyss.”

The response came as a grumble from the Vargr Drangijaz who held his now strung bow at full draw, an arrow of shifting colours upon its string aimed through the doorway at Julia’s writhing form.

“It would seem B is grumpy,” Alfarr quipped, as he stared into the energies now licking the ceiling in disbelief.

“We could do without your humour right now,” Torm muttered as the wards heated further.

“Why is this so hard to contain?” asked Alfarr, granting Torm’s back an eye-roll.

“She’s got Destruction and Chaos Mana ripping my wards apart, even as I reform them, never mind the Song,” Yngvarr declared, spitting out the words in frustration. “I don’t even know how she’s sustaining the power or projecting a wild Song untrained.”

“She’s not consciously projecting the Song, it’s flaring from within her Soul,” stated Rana. Yngvarr’s tension eased as he felt Mana wash past him into the wards and the room beyond.

The flickering energies surged and lit up the room in monochrome for an instant before the flames extinguished, and Julia fell silent. Even as the flames died, Torm moved without hesitation across the warded threshold; yet once inside, what lay ahead stopped him in his tracks.

Unsurprisingly, the room’s furniture was all destroyed as most of it had barely lasted longer than it had taken them to vacate the room. What was shocking was the flames had transformed the stone walls into a gleaming night-sky. Obsidian darkness held stars within, veins of glowing silver and gold threaded throughout the stone, shimmering light radiating from their course as massive nebulas. The chamber walls now resonating with a low, comforting hum, widening Yngvarr gaze as he entered the room and felt it in full force.

Instead of the ivory skinned Succubus, or beautiful human Mortal, with the energy gone he could see an Elven lady laying partly supported by raven wings. Every feather along their course sheathed in flames of white or black, if not mixing both. Skin gleaming a pure golden-bronze hue unlike any Elven race seen in an age. Tattoos of vines swirled up her form as if drawn with night-black ink from toe tip to below her finely pointed chin. Inked thorns hooked in through flesh or drove in deep, while serrated leaves appeared as if bursting through the skin. Hooks from the vines drinking sips of blood gave the appearance the lifelike creation was sustaining itself from her.

Lean, well-defined muscles provided the eye-catching vines a climbing path that accented her body, from her feet up along calves and thighs, across her high-waisted hips, lean stomach, and around pert modest breasts. Narrowing tendrils of growth arched down her arms as if carrying life to her limbs, the fronds at the end of those growths dug into her palms. While blossoming roses sat along her collarbones, dripping blood was the only colour besides black that sat within the tattoo. Droplets of blood from the bleeding roses showed a brilliant red against her skin.

The tight corded muscles along the fine arch of her neck were as defined as the rest along her body. Her delicately pointed chin moved slightly as she stirred, and even insensible her mouth turned into a mischievously playful smile. Shifting muscles flexing her jaw caused a ripple of motion beneath skin towards blade sharp cheekbones. Elven ears peeked through the cascade of electric-blue hair that washed like wild rapids across the ash-stained floor.

The wings fluttering, shifting on her back, scratched along the stonework that the incinerated rugs no longer covered. With a glance over the inferno induced destruction, Torm crouched next to her as they continued to flare and stretch out. A blanket appeared in his hands, and he draped it over her, and sighed when the energy of the wings, for whatever reason, didn’t cause it to ignite. As he spoke again, his voice grew soft with concern, as she didn’t respond to his presence so close.

“Julia.”

“Fuck me,” Julia responded, the words purring out in a vibrant soprano.

The sharp blade of whispered desire slicing through the air drew a startled reaction from all those present before Julia grumbled further.

“That hurt.”

Odyis stepped back from the pair, having entered the room with her spear poised to strike; her course had changed in the instant that Julia had grumbled. Though he’d entered too slow to intercept Odyis in time, Rana’s attention stayed fixed on the Valkyrie, as if he was ready to go to war, his furious gaze filled with contempt.

Julia tried to sit up as she opened her eyes, a hand raised to hold the blanket in place. Her irises were pitch black and enlarged to eclipse the gold that had replaced the whites of her eyes. As Julia let her eyelids flutter shut, she muttered words low in near a whisper that caused others only confusion.

“Someone get me the number of that truck.”

“My Lady knows of this night’s events, Valkyrie,” Rana stated, his words carrying clearly. “She is far from pleased with Óðinn’s meddling; one does not force a tree’s growth without consequences. He risked far more than he knows tonight.”

“No fighting,” Julia uttered, “just give me a chance to recover.”

Julia’s grumbling words stilled whatever reply Odyis had been about to make, and Rana hesitated for a moment before stepping back. Weapons returned to sheaths in an instant even as a dozen Ljósálfar wearing the symbols of other Elven Gods suddenly crowded the room. From among the Ljósálfar, a warrior moved close, positioning to protect Julia, her spoken orders carrying contempt.

“You will leave her care to us immediately. When she feels inclined, I’m sure you will have time to speak again.”

The Ljósálfar were as wildly different as the Elves who’d gathered to hear Julia’s account of the Lómë. Their new spokeswoman carried none of Rana’s relaxed grace and beauty. Her skin was the colour of deep maple, and black eyes showed banked fires ready to flare to life. Leaves of various hued metals overlapped her flesh in flexible protective scales and left only her face bare.

Scarred features showed beauty ruined by dragon fire, blades, claws, and arrows alike, but the resolve in her eyes made it clear she remained unbowed. Energy pushed out from a shield upon her left arm, leaving Julia and Torm untouched, but forced Odyis and the Vargr Drangijaz elders back. As it forced them back before it, she raised a Longsword enfolded in arctic frost, pointed it at the archer, and spoke in biting winter tones.

“Be warned, mutt: aim an arrow at her again, while she is in favour with us, and I’ll feed it to you.”

“Training of platoons will start in the morning. We’ll provide funds for the restitution for your furnishings,” offered Odyis nodding to Yngvarr. When he acknowledged the gesture, she turned to leave as if it was her plan all along, only her gritted teeth giving lie to her poise. The Vargr Drangijaz with her spared a glance between Torm and Julia before they followed in her wake.