Fine, I ended that chapter in exactly the same way as the one before, but that’s because I hadn’t got an answer, and shit had only gotten weirder.

  “Do you want the short version or the long version?” Tove asked.

  “I want-” I started, before Tove cut me off.

  “Actually, never mind,” she said. “We’ve only got time for the short version. Either way, you’re going to have a lot of questions, and I’m going to say right now that we don’t have time for them either.” She held up a hand to ward off my obvious complaining. “It’s not that I wouldn’t answer them, but I’d rather we didn’t waste time on them now when we should be figuring out our plan for getting out of this place. Agreed?” I nodded, and she began her tale.

  I named this story to highlight the fact that this is all ‘from my perspective’, and the things I’m going to recount Tove as saying are among the reasons why. This was all so far from my comfort zone that it might as well not have existed. I’m going to give a truncated summary, because even the ‘short version’ was a carousel of information, clarification and explanation, delivered by 3 different people who hadn’t really worked out a cohesive way to deliver the tale. So, summary time:

  Alf, Tove, and Nalfis were all part of a group of warriors who had been brought together, personally, by Odin himself (the All-father, the High One, god of wisdom, etc. That Odin). They’d found out, partially via the ghost of Beowulf and partially through finding carvings of themselves on the wall of a sealed tomb, that they were the subjects of a centuries-old prophecy. They’d been tasked with recovering the 4 ancient treasures of Albia before the forces of darkness could, in order to weaken those forces when Ragnar?k came. Their progress so far had been to recover the sword Caliburn, and multiple of their number had already been killed (including Alf) though most had been resurrected (still including Alf). Whether or not they succeeded in this task, they would be called upon to fight in Ragnar?k, defeat the machinations of Gullveíg and Loki, and save Midgard. Oh, and Ragnar?k was probably going to happen within the next year. No pressure.

  I was pretty fucking gobsmacked, to say the least. I barely had any gob left to smack. I hadn’t even heard of half the things & people they talked about. I had no concept of the things they had done, and were doing. I didn’t know half of it was possible, or even real. Now, obviously, I asked myself if I believed this. Any of it. It was incredible and incredulous. Fantastic and fantastical. I didn’t want to believe most of it, partially because they were giving a terrifying timeline of Ragnar?k. By the way, if you aren’t familiar with what that is, it’s basically the final battle between a bunch of gods and giants and spirits and mortals and… everyone, which will decide the fate of the world for good or evil.

  I could talk about some of the proof they shared, but none of it was really enough on its own. I believed them though, and it really came down to two things.

  One: it was a really stupid story. Nobody who actually wanted someone to believe them would bother with a lie this expansive and complicated and contrived and downright unbelievable. I was either really gullible or they were telling the truth.

  Two: damn, but I kinda wanted to believe it. It was crazy, wild, insane, and really exciting. I felt like I’d been shown a door into something special, and I could feel this mounting need, deep down inside me, to walk through it.

  So I did. And to this day, I still don’t know if it was the right choice, but I know I don’t regret it.

  /-/

  Once the metaphorical dust had settled, I gave a single slow nod, obviously still digesting it all. Per Tove’s instructions, I didn’t ask any questions about it all. I think it helped that there were too many possible things to ask about for me to settle on one. After a moment, I did ask something different. “What do we do now?”

  “Obviously our goal is to leave Denofell,” Tove replied, “but I don’t have a plan for that aside from ‘go out there and fight anything that tries to stop us’.” It had the advantage of simplicity.

  “And then what?” Nobody looked especially sure. Until now they’d had the task the Elves had ‘given’ them, and with Eoin’s death, going back to Elvenden was clearly out of the question. “I may have an idea,” Nalfis offered. We waited for him to elaborate. “I think…” he paused in consideration, “that we should find Khan Rotun (the Centaur king?). Not to kill him!” he rushed. “But perhaps to explain why we are here, and see if he would shelter us from the Elves.” Alf looked nonplussed, while Tove bit her lip in thought.

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  “Would he risk their anger like that?” she asked.

  “There’s clearly no love lost between the King and the Khan,” Nalfis reasoned, “and if he believes us then he’ll know angering them more hardly matters when they’ve already dispatched assassins.”

  “And if he doesn’t believe us?”

  “Then we’ll be lucky if he just arrests us as possible spies.” The implication that we’d probably face execution hung unspoken but very much thought. Would you really be inclined to help people who walked into your city and told you they’d been sent to kill you?

  “Can’t we just stay with the Centaurs without telling the Khan why we’re there? Say we’re travellers or something,” I tried. Tove shook her head sadly.

  “They’re not the most fond of outsiders,” she explained. “They’ve been marginalised for centuries, looked down on as ‘savages’. I don’t think they’d host us without cause, especially with…” she trailed off with an apologetic glance towards Nalfis. He waved off whatever Tove was implying, and clarified when he saw my confused face. “Elves have historically been the worst offenders, as you may be able to guess. I might not technically be an ‘Elf’, but it certainly wouldn’t help our case.” That wasn’t great news. It was also surprising to me. I’d never heard of this enmity, or the hostility towards Centaurs. I wasn’t sure if that made me ignorant, but I’d never met a Centaur, since they all lived out on the plains and I’d spent nearly my whole life in Vigridr. Regardless, it presented a problem. “So then we’d have to plead our case and hope we were believed?” Nalfis and Tove nodded. Hm.

  Alf sighed the sigh of the old and bored. “We’re damned every which way we turn, aren’t we? Killed on the spot if we go back to Elvenden, hunted down and killed if we try to flee, fall victim to the unspeakable horrors of cursed Denofell if we stay here, and probably executed if we make our case to the Khan.” Nobody disputed his summary. “Capital. Then I shall cast my vote for the option that offers ‘probable’ death. Those in favour?” Three more hands went up. “Excellent. Khan Rotun’s wisdom and mercy it is, then.” An uneasy resolve passed over us. We had a goal to work towards, even if it was just ‘the best of a terrible bunch’.

  “How soon should we go?” Nalfis asked. “I don’t know about each of you, but I’m near-enough shattered.” He made a good point. It had been a long day, and Tove & I especially were feeling less-than-good. Something about having an ancient consciousness poke around your brain forcing you to pilot a war machine was just really draining. That said, I felt a bit too wired to sleep. Adrenaline and anxiety were battling with fatigue, meaning I could feel the tiredness and the aches, but not quite bring myself to rest.

  “Sleep in the head and go in the morning?” Tove suggested, looking around us.

  “There’s no morning here, but I take your point. This is probably the best shelter we could hope for,” Alf seconded, “but I’d still insist we take a watch. That means you too this time, Indy.” He shot a glare my way, and I somehow felt a tiny bit embarrassed. Last night felt like a long time ago now though. “I was going to!” I insisted. He made a doubtful ‘mmhmm’ noise and I made a rude gesture back at him. “I’ll even go first,” I declared. There were counter-offers but I waved them down. “I’m too on edge to sleep right now,” I explained, “give me a bit to wind down.”

  “I wouldn’t call ‘staring at Denofell’ an opportunity to unwind,” Nalfis joked, “but I understand. Wake one of us when you think it’s been a couple of hours, or if you’re about to pass out.”

  “Or if you see something,” Tove added.

  “Yes, or that obviously. Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

  “I’ll be fine.” That was as much an answer to his question as it was a decision for myself. I was going to manifest ‘being fine’ energy into the world.

  “Wait a minute,” Alf said, pursing his lips for a second before his question. “Not for nothing, but aren’t you a human?”

  “Um. Yes?” Odd line of questioning.

  “Right. Well it’s just… don’t they generally have difficulty seeing in the dark?” He indicated outside through the eyes where, true to his words, it was dark as night. “We can’t exactly start a fire here, even if we wanted to.”

  Oh damn, I’d nearly forgotten! I smacked my forehead in realisation. “Owwww,” I groaned. Head still hurting. Noted. I grabbed my bag, and after digging around for a moment, fished out a large pair of goggles. They had oversized, dark lenses, and brass eyepieces that fit flush against the outside of my head and against my face, blocking out light from the side. A bit of decorative detailing had been added to the metal and around the rims in swirling patterns. They were a little bit dinged and worn, but the overall look was, in a word, steampunk.

  I pulled them onto my face with a smile and a ‘ta-da’. “These let me see in the dark,” I explained. “Not perfectly, and not very far, but much better than nothing.”

  “Fair enough,” Alf shrugged. He was overcome by a long, loud yawn, stretching his arms and stating he was off to bed. Nalfis and Tove did the same, instructing me to wake someone in a couple of hours or if something came up. Once all was said and done, they settled down into a mix of sleeping bags and blankets, then fell asleep remarkably quickly. Underrated skill.