First draft

Egil, Thorvald and a handful of warriors walked up the hill, crossing the last gate separating them from the castle. Thunderfield, the place where he'd spent most of his youth, looked different, though he didn't know why exactly. The fact that they were building a church so close to the castle was disturbing, of course, but that was just the surface. The change went deeper than that. The atmosphere was so different that Egil almost felt like a dignitary sent to a foreign country, an intruder in his own land.

Many people were looking at him, but that wasn't the problem. He was the Warlord, the most famous warrior of his generation - he was used to it. However, the way those people - his people - looked at him had changed. They weren't staring at him with respect or awe like they used to but hostility, maybe even fear. Egil met the dark looks with an arrogantly raised eyebrow. However, he soon realized that not of all of them were hostile. A few of them were looking at him expectantly like he was their last hope. That was even worse for some reason.

Heidi, a chubby maid in her twenties, greeted them when they crossed the threshold. Although she was a bit short for the Wildlands' standard, and Egil was at least a foot taller than her, she spoke in a tone devoid of fear or awe.

"My lord." She curtsied, her bright and round eyes shining. "Welcome back."

"Heidi." Egil grunted, "I'm here to see my uncle."

"Of course." The maid answered like she'd expected his arrival. "Please follow me. The lord is waiting for you."

Heidi turned around and walked briskly, guiding them through the castle's dark corridors - a stark labyrinth of passages and cold rooms. Harsh and severe like the Wildlands, the old fortress was quiet, dimly lit with a few half-burned candles and unembellished - except for the stuffed animal heads hanging on the walls. 

"This place really lacks a woman's touch." Egil mumbled.

Thorvald grunted in agreement. "Without a woman, the servants tend to be lazy."

Egil shook his head. "Alva's mother died more than ten years ago. Why didn't my uncle ever remarry?"

Thorvald shrugged. "The Highlord never had luck with women."

"I suppose you're talking about uncle's first wife."

Thorvald sighed. "Aye. Your uncle never loved Gunilla, Thandruil's mother. They were like strangers."

"Many arranged marriages are like that." Egil objected. "My uncle respected his first wife."

"He respected her." Thorvald admitted. "But then Alfric met Tristana, Alva's mother."

"And divorced Gunilla."

Thorvald snorted. "He didn't just divorce her, he threatened to repudiate her."

Egil looked shocked. "How come I didn't know about this?"

Thorvald waved his hand dismissively. "Gunilla was a Lindberg. Her family managed to hide the truth. They didn't want anyone to know about their shame."

Egil nodded slowly. "And a consensual divorce is better than repudiation."

Thorvald snorted again. "Tell that to Thandruil."

While they were talking, Egil had increased his pace unconsciously.

Only when Heidi said, "My lord." he realized he'd left the woman behind.

Egil waited for her to catch up then asked, "By the way, where is old Vakri, the steward?"

"Vakri?" Heidi panted, her plump cheeks a bit rosy as she struggled to keep up with him. "My lord...Vakri is dead."

Egil unconsciously slowed down, a frown appearing on his face. "Dead? How did he die?"

"He fell from the north keep." The maid shook her head. "It was awful. Everyone in the castle was shocked."

The frown on his face deepened. "When did this happen?"

Heidi titled her head. "About...three months ago?" Then she nodded, and repeated with more conviction. "Yes, three months ago."

Egil halted. "Three months? Are you sure?"

He was so eager to learn the answer that he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook them. When the maid started squirming, he immediately regretted his actions and released her.  Heide took a step back, behaving like a frightened rabbit.

"O-of...course I'm sure." The maid eyed him warily. "It happened just a few days before your lordship left for the Embersea."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They keep walking. Egil was so lost in thought that only when he saw the guards standing before the great hall's oak door, he regained his senses.

"Only the Warlord." One of the guards raised his hands, signaling them to stop. 

Thorvald gave him a worried look. "Lad..."

"It's fine." Egil reassured his friend. "Wait here."

He turned around, took a step toward the door and was about to enter when the guard said, "Your weapon. Leave it here."

Egil scowled, but he didn't try to argue and handed over his ax. Once inside, he headed toward the Highlord's throne. Alfric Alhstrom was there, sitting in the dark with his hands on his laps. The quasi-monastic silence and the rows of decorative columns around him - engraved with the epic deeds of the past Highlords - gave him the impression that he was walking into a temple.

Or a battlefield.

Considering the scowl on Alfric's face, the latter seemed more likely.

"Uncle." Egil bowed respectfully. "I've returned."

"Nephew." Alfric greeted. "What bring you here, away from your valiant shield brothers?"

Egil looked up, startled by his uncle's astringent tone.

"Can't I visit my uncle?" He blurted out. Then he paused, well aware he sounded a bit defensive and added. "It's been a long time since we last met."

"Indeed. Too long." The Highlord said in a quiet, dull voice. "I expected you sooner."

"Apologies. The campaign lasted longer than expected."

"Oh, yes, the campaign." Stoneface's expression remained unchanged, but every word was laced with sarcasm. "I heard all about your great victory."

Egil's lips compressed, irritation mounting. He kept it at bay. "Then you know why I didn't come here sooner."

"Actually, I don't." The Highlord refuted. "After what happened in the Embsersea I expected you to run back to Strom End to secure your position. Imagine my surprise when I heard you were visiting lord Lindberg."

Egil froze. Countless thoughts passed through his mind, each one more disturbing than the last. He ignored them, lowered his head and said, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."

Silence reined on the great hall for a long moment. When Egil finally looked up, he discovered that his uncle was still staring at him, his piercing eyes locked on his face.

"Well, you're here now. That's all that matters."

There was a nervous pause. Then Egil faked a cough. "What about Alva? How is my cousin?"

A look of pain flashed across Alfric's lifeless face. He smothered down that hint of emotion quickly. "Enough with the small talk. Why are you really here, Egil?"

Egil took a deep breath. "I heard about the Holy Raid."

"Oh?" Stoneface cocked his head, his eyes narrow and speculative. "And I'm curious, what does the Undefeated Warlord think about my decision?"

Alfric's masklike face was still emotionless as usual, but Egil knew him well enough to understand that he was taunting him.

Ignoring his uncle's mockery, Egil answered seriously, "I think that granting safe passage to the Summermers and the Temple is a mistake." Alfric's eyes became two slits, but Egil keeps talking. "The thralls and the lords are restless. If you don't change your mind, I'm afraid that they..."

"They what, Egil?" Alfric asked coldly, the iciness in his voice practically freezing the hall's stale air. "They will replace me with my nephew?"

"You knew?" Egil asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Of course. I know all about the Gathering."  One side of Alfric's mouth lifted in a grim and unsettling smile. "You've been very busy, nephew. Or should I call you Highlord?"

"Uncle." Egil said, trying to suppress his mounting anger. "I would never betray you."

"And yet, here you are, trying to threaten your liege." He commented emotionlessly.

"I'm not threate..." Egil took a deep breath. "I'm not threatening you, uncle. You know that I never wanted your throne."

Alfric stared at him deeply, and Egil met his gaze levelly.

"Maybe you don't." His uncle admitted eventually. "But don't delude yourself, nephew. You're a threat. Even now that your reputation is at its lowest point, many lords are still plotting put you on my throne."

"And whose fault is that?" Egil retorted, unable to stop himself this time.

Alfric became still and cold as a statue, and the air temperature around him dropped several degrees.

"I'm sorry." Egil apologized. "But I can see why the lords are worried, uncle. The Summermers and the Temple can't be trusted."

Stoneface made a rude noise in the back of his throat. "Do you think I don't know?" He asked like he was talking to an idiot.

"Then why are you..."

"I have my reasons." Alfric cut him off, his voice harder than stone. Cold by nature, usually the Highlord was as stiff as a board, but his eyes were blazing with unconcealed anger now. "Is that why are you here? To warn me?"

Face tight, Egil replied, "I'm just trying to convince you to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" Alfric's mocking laugh echoed across the hall. "No, Egil. You just want to ease your conscience."

"Uncle," Egil clenched his fists as his volatile temper gained the upper hand. "I'm not your enemy."

"Then prove it to me." Alfric ordered, "Leave the castle. Return to Strom End and stay there until this matter is over."

Egil felt a pang of sadness. "I can't do that."

"Really? And why is that?" Alfric asked, his hawklike eyes looking at him with a dangerous sparkle. Then he raised his hand slightly, and warning bells went off in Egil's head.

He knew what that meant. He knew that dozens of guards were hidden behind the columns, just waiting for his uncle signal.

"There is something you should know." In some way he managed to keep his voice level. "It's about Thandruil."

If possible, his frown darkened even further. "Speak."

"You have to let my men in first." Egil said.

Alfric stared at him, hard, his eyes glittering with suspicion. Egil didn't even dare to breathe.

Only when Alfric said, "Let them in." the tension in his shoulder's eased.

A minute later, Thorvald and two men in shackles entered.

Staring at them, Alfric asked, "Who are they?"

"Thandruil's accomplices." Egil said, observing his uncle carefully.

Alfric's face darkened. "Accomplices?"

Egil nodded. "Yes, uncle. Thandruil...he is the one responsible for the slaughter at the village."

Alfric became utterly still, but he didn't look surprised. At all.

"Leave us." Alfric ordered the guards. "My nephew and I have a lot to talk about."

---------------------------

"Do you think he believed us?" Thorvald asked when they reached their rooms.

Egil shook his head. "Hard to say. We have solid evidence, but my uncle is difficult to predict."

"Understandable." Thorvald nodded. "Thandruil is his son after all. But Egil" The Pathseeker stared deeply into his eyes. "we're running out of time."

"You're more right than you know, Pathseeker." Someone said gloomily.

Egil's head whipped toward the door, his eyes widening slightly. "Jokul?"

The Glorysing bowed. "Warlord."

He looked somber than usual.

This doesn't feel good news.

Egil sighed. "What did you discover?"

"Nothing good I'm afraid." Jokul said. "I heard that the Morningstar, Highlord Bernard's flagship, reached Fyollum."

Egil felt his gut tense up. "When did this happen?"

"Ten days ago." Jokul answered.

His words were like hammers on Egil's already taut nerves. Ten days ago...they could be here at any moment.

"How many men did he bring?" Thorvald asked.

"Three thousand warriors, and that's just the vanguard. I heard that the Temple and the Summermers are rallying more men. By Summer, they'll have tens of thousands of soldiers."

"For the blood of Oril." Thorvald swore. "Lad, the lords will not tolerate this provocation."

"And the thralls won't like it either." Jokul added in a gloomy tone.

"Who is in command of the expedition?" Egil asked.

"Symon Summermer, Highlord Bernard's son." Jokul said.

"It's true then. Bernard sent his own son." Egil sounded surprised, surprised and alarmed. "But why?"

"Maybe he wants the young pup to gain experience." Jokul muttered under his breath.

Egil shook his head. "This is not their custom."

"What's it matter who is in command?" Thorvald asked, letting out an impatient breath. "Even if this Symon is a complete idiot, he has three thousand warriors at his disposal."

"And that's not all." Jokul continued, almost as if he enjoyed delivering bad news. "According to the rumors, the Thornless Queen is supporting the Holy Raid. She sent messages to our lords, thanking them for their support."

"What?" Egil asked, his mouth hanging open. "Why have I never heard of this?"

"I just found out," Jokul admitted. "It's all they talk around here."

"I don't understand. What is the queen thinking?" Thorvald asked with an unusual note of frustration. "Why is she siding with the Summermers?"

Jokul shrugged. "She is probably trying to stir things up."

Egil made a dismissive gesture. "That's not relevant at the moment. What I want to know is...where is Thandruil? Where is my cousin?"

"No one knows." Jokul answered. "But I'm sure he will be here when Bernard's son arrives."

Egil frowned. "We have to find him."

Thorvald heaved a sigh."Lad, there is nothing more you can do here. You've done your duty."

Egil suppressed a grimace. "Old friend, I know what you're thinking, but I can't leave."

"You have to. By now, everyone should know what happened in the Embersea. Everyone, lad." Thorvald gave him a meaningful look. "Return to Strom End."

"I can't." Egil repeated, irritation leaking into his voice. "Thandruil's matter has not ended yet."

"But If you stay..."

"...nothing will change, Thorvald. If the shield-brothers think that I'm weak, they will challenge me to duel anyway."

Unexpectedly, Jokul supported him. "I thank that what's happening here is more important. However, Warlord" The Glorysing turned toward Egil. "I think you're staying for the wrong reason. Thandruil is not that important. He has nothing to do with the Holy Raid. Instead of focusing on him we should think about how we can avoid a civil war."

"Are you sure about that?"

Jokul titled his head, puzzled. "Warlord?"

Egil sighed. "You're underestimating Thandruil. He is still the Highlord's heir, and we know that he has been in touch with the Temple." He turned toward Thorval. "Knowing this, can I really leave?"

"Let's say that we find him, then what?" Thorvald objected. "With the evidence you presented, the Highlord-"

"-The Highlord will do nothing." Egil said. "You know what I'm talking about. You've seen how my uncle reacted when I told him about Thandruil."

"He didn't look surprised." Thorvald admitted.

"He didn't even bat an eye." Egil shook his head. "He knew it, Thorvald. My uncle knew that Thandruil was responsible for the massacre."

Jokul opened his eyes wide. He looked rattled. "Do you think that lord Alfric is protecting him?"

"No, not exactly. I think he's just pretending not to know."

"He protected his before." Thorvald objected.

"This is different. Thandruil butchered an entire village this time." Egil shook his head. "No, old friend, my uncle is no saint, but he would never allow something like this to go unpunished. He is turning a blind eye for a reason."

Thorvald squinted. "What reason?"

"I don't know it yet." He scratched his beard, frustrated. "But I bet this has something to with the Temple. It's the only thing that makes sense. For some reason, my uncle is hellbent on keeping up good relations with the Temple, and I think that's why he hasn't punished Thandruil."

"Warlord," Jokul said quietly. "If what you're saying is true and the Highlord is pretending not to know..." He trailed off but the meaning was clear.

Egil's expression turned grim. "In that case, we'll have to force my uncle to reconsider his position."

There was a long moment of silence, then Egil said, "Let's talk about something else." Egil looked at the Glorysing. "Have you done what I have asked?"

Jokul nodded. "I asked around but little happened since we left for the Embersea. A steward died, but it was just an accident. Other than that, nothing of note happened. Well, aside from the fact that the Highlord granted safe passage to the Summermers, of course."

Egil froze. "When did that happen?"

"About...three months ago, I think." Jokul gave him an odd look. "Why?"

Egil ignored his question and asked, "And when did the steward die? Was it before or after my uncle agreed to the Temple's request?"

"I don't know. I didn't think it was important." Jokul looked at him curiously. "Warlord, what does this have to do with..."

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything." He mumbled under his breath.

Jokul looked at him like he had two heads. "Warlord?"

Egil let out a tired breath. "Just find out what you can, Jokul."

The Glorysing gave him one last glance, then bowed and withdrew.

"Do you think that Vakri's death was not an accident?" Thorvald asked when he was gone.

"I don't know. It's too soon to say." Egil mulled it over for a second then he shook his head. "No use thinking about it. Let's go find Alva. I haven't seen her in months."

Thorvald followed him as he went upstairs. Soon, however, Egil noticed that the Pathmaker kept sneaking glances at him. When they were halfway up the stairs, Egil couldn't take it anymore.

"Speak, old friend. It's not like you to mince words."

Thorvald scratched his thick beard. He looked uncomfortable. "I know you won't like to hear this, but we really don't have much time left. Soon the Summermers will be here. If your uncle..."

Egil gave him a sharp look. "I won't turn my back on him, Thorvald."

"Even if that means going to war?" Thorvald asked in a challenging tone.

"Even then." Egil answered, and his voice was slightly stronger, hot with anger. "I will not sacrifice my uncle, Thorvald."

Thorvald and Egil looked at one another in silence. The staring contest went on for a couple of minutes. Then Egil heard someone coming down the stairs and found himself face to face with a wizened old man. It was Alva's teacher, Abjorn.

"Lord Egil." The old man bowed. "It's been a long time."

"Too long, Master Abjorn." Egil managed a smile. "How is the little miss?"

"Lord Egil...haven't you heard?" When Egil raised a brow, Abjorn sighed. "Of course you haven't."

Egil narrowed his eyes. "Heard about what?"

Master Abjorn made a pained face. "Lady Alva...she is in a coma."