“You must understand, Herleifr ours is a quest that we shan’t delay, for a single moment,” Colwyn uttered as politely as he possibly could, under the circumstances. Repeating the same words he had uttered every day, since they had arrived in Hraukrheier, with his warnings of impending danger and of the urgency of their quest largely ignored.

  Propelled to the front of their group upon their entrance in the grand golden halls of Jarl Herleifr, as had been done every other time since they had arrived, Colwyn had done his utmost to negotiate their release.

  Of the three of them, he was the most diplomatic with Wiglaf having attempted on their first day in Hraukrheier, and on their second day, ere he lost hope in his own abilities to reason with Herleifr Mundisson.

  Dark-haired, bearded with a dash of gray in his long locks that flowed from chin and scalp, Herleifr was a stout man, rather shorter than Indulf, Colwyn or Wiglaf were.

  He was however, formidably built with a muscled figure, vivid blue eyes and an air of cruelty about his person that was unrivalled by any person Indulf had previously met. His long-beaked nose, square jaw and big ears might have looked ridiculous on another man, yet upon Herleifr they only added to the intimidating air about him.

  The only part of him that was not at all intimidating was the peculiar dark-green silk robe that he wore that covered him from neck to feet, with his feet shod in blue silk slippers. His arms were bared where the rest of him was almost entirely covered in silk and gold, with his ears, neck and rings decorated in gold and gems.

  Seated upon a silver-throne, one that Wiglaf had informed him had once belonged to an ancient dynasty of Antillia, one that had been toppled nigh on two hundred years ago. Toppled in a blaze of fire and destruction that had led to every last one of the king of Hraukrheier’s first royal line’s kin, and children being thrown down onto the rocks in the seas off the shores of the promontory upon which the city sat. An image that had at once frightened and informed Indulf’s decision after that moment, to favour silence when not addressed by the local guards.

  “The city’s inhabitants are a mixture, as best as I can understand, with their ancestors having come to the isle ere when it was first pulled forth from the seas thousands of years ago by the gods. It is said that they were invited hereon the Misty-Island by the gods themselves, whereon they founded this city which they surnamed the ‘Silver City’ or Airgbhaile as it was known to those people, who first built this city.”

  “How did you come by this knowledge?” Indulf had asked, as they looked out the window in the room they had been assigned by their captors, staring out at the raging sea, and the high grey-white clouds far above them all.

  “Many years of study lad,” Wiglaf had replied, eyes faraway, “My master was a gruelling disciplinarian who expected that I should know, all one could know about our archipelago. It was his view especially as his mother’s people were among those who had escaped the island, just as the Northmen from whom Herleifr is descended arrived and slaughtered all that they could find within the walls of this palace. I shan’t tell you of the countless hours and even years, I spent back bowed along with head, over ancient tomes in the Tower of the Wise. Reading from such tomes as the chronicles assembled by Ghondorius the Iron-Elf who was one of the far-travelers and finest mages imaginable. Or from those records saved from the city, by my master’s ancestors, of which they later added their own tomes to, once they reached the lands of Noren?ia. Some of which were admittedly lost during the civil wars that ravaged those lands, but the vast majority of which was later gifted by the Duke’s descendant Clovis of Armand.”

  Not terribly interested at the time in this discussion of the history of Antillia, Indulf paid nary any attention. It was only the next day that he took an interest, after their second plea to Herleifr went unheeded. With Indulf unable to understand how the Northman could prove so disinterested in their plight, even after Colwyn had spent hours pleading with him in the Caled, Arnish and Cymran tongues.

  “He is fluent in all three tongues, because his father’s mother was seized from Cymru,” Wiglaf had explained when he asked, only for him to ask for more knowledge of Herleifr’s family history. A request the druid was more than happy to fulfill, answering his questions at considerably greater length than the day prior.

  “But how do you know this of his mother? And how did he come to wear silk, when most of the Crow-Feeder’s men scorn such demonstrations of wealth over in Caledonia?” Indulf queried at a loss to explain the differences that separated those descended from the raiders from Arnrige that lived on the Lairdly-Island and those that had colonised this place.

  “I know only because, since I understand the language of the servants and guards, who do not realize that I have a more than rudimentary understanding of their rude tongue.” Wiglaf confessed with a triumphant glance at the door.

  The room they were in was far larger as everything appeared to be on this island, than any home he had ever lived in. The floor was marbled, polished and as snow-white as the walls of most of the rooms were with the rooms richly decorated with large tapestries expertly woven together, depicting hunts, battles and even legendary feats accomplished by ancient Arnish gods and ancestors. The tables within each of the rooms were large, rounded and made from carved red-wood and as polished as those of the Elves were.

  They also had large windows that lacked any glass not that Indulf or any Caled would have expected such from a window, giving an unfettered view of the sea. In total length the room they currently occupied was ten meters in length, and half that in width. The bed was a stuffed one with pigeon and chicken feathers with the beds made of rough wool and sewn closed by hand, with the pillows made in much the same fashion.

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  Such was the comfort provided by these beds that were also arranged on pine-wood carved frames that after the first night there Indulf had fallen in love with the beds despite his preference for simplicity. The feeling of comfort it had provided had allowed for the first dreamless rest he had enjoyed, since the night Inga had been murdered. What was more was that the last sight he had observed the night before was the same that he had enjoyed early in the morn, when he first woke up.

  The ceiling was painted where the floor and walls were not, though some of the floors were admittedly decorated with fur-carpets. The paintings that decorated the ceiling were noteworthy, for how they portrayed the stars and the night sky.

  Though the stars in question were nothing at all like, the constellations that were to be found in the heavens above Caledonia, they were still beautiful. The sight of them had reminded him of countless pleasant nights spent under the skies, with Inga.

  In total it was the most glittering, wealthy place of wealth that he had ever seen in all his life.

  It was so utterly unimaginable to Indulf that when first shown to the room he was a little charmed by it. He had never imagined in all his life, he might one day occupy such a room, or see such opulence.

  As he had never imagined such wealth to exist, at least not after the fall of Roma, with the son of Ida fairly certain that this palace was far more impressive than the village of the Elves. This thought had made him feel ashamed and guilty towards the Elves, who he was of the view did not merit such a comparison.

  *****

  Thoughts of the Elves made him think next of the events that had brought them to the city of Hraukrheier. He did not remember what had happened exactly, only that he had felt someone or something grip him by the waist and feet after he had jumped off the boat. Panicking and screaming as best he could, whilst underwater kicking and striking at what gripped him.

  Striking one of the rocks with his leg a little with enough force to have made him cry tears of pain, what followed was a great flash of light that had filled him with shock and a great fright. Injured by that time though, he was to upon awakening find himself with a head that felt as though it were splitting apart, just as the rest of him felt then.

  When next he opened his eyes it was to find himself, upon a beach. Confused as he did not know where he was, Indulf was the first of the three of them to regain his feet if reluctantly so.

  Nearby to where he had apparently fallen, lay Wiglaf and Colwyn, the former had his feet in the water of the beach and was unconscious. The latter lay to one side, nearer to the well-shorn green grass that was near to the league-long beach.

  Expecting to see a forest, to the west of the beach, he found in place of any such thing, borne more from recent experiences of seeing naught but mountains and forests near the sea. Indulf was thus, surprised to find himself staring up at a small village of long-ships.

  The village was a small one near to the heavily gated city of Hraukrheier and was a location that he felt a mixture of uncertainty and fear at the sight. It was a sentiment that was hardly returned, with the Northmen catching sight of the new arrivals in return fairly quickly, ere they seized them.

  Colwyn, as the only one conscious and able to speak fluently in the Arnish tongue of the northern people introduced himself, once he regained consciousness. Whereupon the Arns had them taken from the shores of their village, and dragged a league away to the Silver-city.

  From the first moment he saw the city loom upon the horizon to the north of him, from the caravan he was tied to and stowed onto alongside his companions; Indulf felt awe hammer away at his soul.

  Never before in all his years, had he seen a more impressive vision than at that moment. The city was almost itself half a league large and long, rising from the shorelines immediately connected to the promontory and rising up the vast hill to its summit.

  The city gates shone with the light of the suns, and were made of the finest marble one could imagine, with a light all unto its one it seemed. It looked as a mirage that might fade away the closer one neared it, yet this it did not do. The walls were more than one hundred fifteen meters high, and about as thick looming up above them all, with the gates that could only be opened by means of a thick chain that was accessible only by one of the nearby towers. Upon the walls was a series of cerulean gems that formed the image of a mighty defiant stag.

  A symbol that struck him at once as fairly odd for the Northmen of the city to have adopted, as they usually preferred to use wolves, bears and dragons as their symbols.

  The real shock lay behind the great walls, which was filled with large marble-houses that were square and rectangular in shape, most being either three storeys high or two storeys. The square homes were six meters long and wide, whereas the rectangular ones were ten meters long and six meters wide.

  These homes were occasionally separated into smaller sections, sections of the city which were dominated by large pointed temples that had bronze and golden swords embedded just above the temple-doors. Built also of white marble, the temples were all roofed with silver roofs, large open windows which relied upon dark tarps to block out the light of the suns. With the temples’ doors were made of black stone.

  As long as the rectangular houses were, and twelve meters high they were magnificent and seemingly all dedicated to the same god, something that Indulf seriously doubted was the case, in spite of Colwyn making this assumption. With the city one that had a population, as he was to later learn from Wiglaf when he regained consciousness, nigh on twenty-five thousand souls in total.

  The nobles’ houses which were nearer to the palace were seemingly three or four of the square houses and one rectangular ones put together. They appeared almost welded together, yet there was a seamlessness to them, with these houses almost three meters longer, wider and higher than those of the lesser folks.

  As to the palace, it had its own walls as many such cities did that cut it off from the rest of the inhabitants, of the locality. More than sixty meters high, and almost twice that in length and wideness, seated upon the great hill that overlooked the sea it had a golden sheen that separated and elevated all the more above the mighty city.

  With a high dungeon that is to say central building with eight great-towers that ended in spiked peaks and three main gates into the building all with the same silver-blue gems that formed the shape of the defiant kingly stag. It was the single most impressive building Indulf had ever seen, and could imagine.

  Even Colwyn appeared impressed with his mouth gaping open, in awe at the sight of not only the village but the castle. Reduced to an uncharacteristic silence he looked upon the palace with a small measure of apprehension.

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