Darkspire Conspiracy Chapter IV: Murder By Any Other Name

“Sigrún did this!” Friða howled the moment she heard that Sigrún was missing.

Guðleifr could have groaned.

He was not alone in expressing annoyance towards the sister of Aghi, as Wolffish exclaimed in response to her accusation, “Do be quiet with such nonsense, Friða! No one believes she would do such a thing.”

“You shan’t know such a thing for certain, dog,” Friða hissed at him, “But Sigrún is missing, and I will hazard a guess that no doubt her mount is missing also.”

This Wolffish sought to deny, as did Gertrud and Thorgils, with it being Guðleifr who ordered Auðun to return to the fort, to inspect to see if her horse or Gyða’s horse were missing. “Auðun go back to yon castle, we must know if that horse is indeed missing if only to prove the witch wrong.” This Auðun did not do, instead of answering he deviated his stare. Growing impatient with him, Guðleifr barked out at him, “Auðun, what are you doing simply standing ramrod with that strange look in your eyes.”

“It is only that the horse is indeed missing, I looked into that the moment I noticed the horse was missing,” Auðun confessed at once, with a troubled look in his eyes.

The stare that all around him directed at him, was so stunned, so horrified that even if fire had exploded from the heavens, none might well have noticed it.

The first to overcome his shock, was Thorgils who queried, “How could this be? Her horse and your possessions are missing? Why would she seek to take them?”

“What map? I had thought that that map of Helgi’s had been lost,” Wolffish interrupted as he stared from one person to the next, a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

It was at this time that Thorgils adopted a shameful look, and struggled to meet the gaze of the other Wolffram. At this hour Auðun interjected himself in between them, if only verbally so. “This is not the place to discuss such things I think, let us go back to the fort where I will complete my explanation.”

This seemed unreasonable to some, such as Friða, who shouted at once, “So that you may cover up this murder, and do all in thy power to cover for her.”

“Oh do go home Friða,” Gertrud snapped; only to add, “Guðleifr you follow Auðun and there of the youths to Thormundr’s home, while I escort Baggi home.”

“You shan’t silence me!” Friða said outraged by their attempts to shush her.

“No objections Friða, unless you have something of value to add,” Gertrud retorted once more, with a pitying glance in the direction of the still weeping Baggi and his kinsmen. “Baggi is in tears, he has lost his wife and his children their mother. We must see to the dead, before we can point fingers and think of culprits.”
“She is right, but once we have determined the identity of the culprit, we will have the guilty party properly punished,” Holmfríðr was to add, in support also.

The women had the matter well in hand, in the view of many of the men who chose to retire to Thormundr’s fort as advised. The most noteworthy were of course Guðleifr, his son Thorgils, there was also Kári the owner of the local tavern, the Wolffish, his brother Oddr and also Auðun.

None of them were wholly convinced that Sigrún could have committed so heinous a murder, and yet they were unable to discount it entirely. Most wished to believe her, this much Auðun could see at once, as he guided them into the mead-hall where just a few weeks prior they had received the dark warning from the strange fellow who appeared before them.

Worried over this fact he was to fret over what had happened, and over what fate might await Sigrún. Such was the apprehension that gnawed at Auðun that he could not quite repress it, nor ignore it so that while the others talked, he listened more than he spoke.

“Sigrún has gone, and has taken the Darkspire map, but how could she have done this if the map was taken away to the Order of Sorcery by Thormundr?” This question was asked by Thorgils, who had only just finished explaining to Wolffish and the others how he had saved the map.

His clarification on this matter, was one that awoke in some a certain hostility and irritation, as they had thought it long since gone.

It was Kári the tavern-master who voiced what they were all thinking, “This was ill-done and shame on thee, Thorgils for having left the map intact and not destroyed it at once! On top of which, you then handed it over to Thormundr to endure, what is thy burden? Shame on you Thorgils!”

“Enough, Kári,” Guðleifr intervened always keen to protect his children; he was to add gravely, “The burden was not Thorgils’ alone, but mine Kári. I did not burn the map at once, so that I share a portion of the blame also.”

“Indeed,” the older man agreed at once, saying with a scowl, “That map has wrought only devastation, death and misery to all involved.”

“The map survived somehow, but if it was taken away by Thormundr how did Sigrún escape with it?” Oddr queried for all present, not yet aware of what Auðun had done, with the Wolffram receiving several approving nods from those around him.

Even Kári was compelled to agree with him, in spite of his anger regarding the map, and what had recently happened. All knew that he was close friends, with Baggi and his family so that none were at all surprised by his frustration.

It was at this time that Auðun answered, if reluctantly so, “I drew a map from memory, one that was an exact duplicate of that which we sent away with Master Thormundr.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” Wolffish asked hoarsely, staring at him in utter disbelief, “Knowing full well the trouble and tragedy it has wrought.”

“I did it because I had to know more, I wished to understand King Bynjarr and his successors better, and also because I felt that the map was still needed.” Auðun retorted with a shrug of his shoulders, as he met the gaze of his friend evenly. “I still maintain that view, certainly the stranger had good reason to warn against it, and to call for its destruction however we cannot simply repress such a thing or burn it away. It will inevitably be found once more, and once it is it will be rediscovered by those who might not have as good intentions as we.”

They all stared, with few if any of them understanding his thinking. Most such as Kári and Oddr still looked doubtful and as though they did not understand. Auðun could see in their eyes that they thought him something of a fool.

Their lowering opinion of him was made all the more evident when they turned away from him, dismissing him for a fool. If it had been Thormundr who had spoken to them in this manner, they would have agreed he mused bitterly, frustrated by their rejection.

Hardly paying them any mind, just as they preferred to ignore him, the more the talk went on for, the more Auðun inched away in the hopes of escaping the room. Keen to escape that he might make his own preparations and from there, he intended to escape from the castle so that he might accomplish something, rather than discuss it.

“We must consider the possibility that whoever did this, came from outside the village,” Thorgils was saying arguing against Kári.

“I think Friða was correct in her accusations against Sigrún,” Kári retorted sharply, with a growl as he continued to cross his arms over his large chest. “Sigrún has gone missing, her horse is also absent so that there can be no other person who could possibly be the murderer of Ragna.”

“So you say, however what of the battering hooves that was heard, night after night before now?” Wolffish reminded him from one side.

“Oh do be quiet you dog, all know you have become over-attached to Sigrún,” Kári snapped at him.

“All have the right to be heard, at such a time,” Guðleifr retorted, seeking to prove himself utterly neutral in this matter.

In the end little was accomplished, with the guards declaring the meeting at an end. Wolffish and Kári glared at one another, evidently convinced that the other was being foolish, and with the two coming near to blows. To ensure that they might not do anything to worsen the situation, Guðleifr was to volunteer to escort Kári home, while Oddr and Wolffish departed together. The younger of the two brothers grimacing in the direction of father and son, who hardly sympathetic were to both remark that they would have to thank him later. Quite how, they did not know quite yet, but they only knew that it would be necessary given how close to blows Wolffish and Kári had come.

“We must be sure to have Gertrud cook something special for Oddr in the morn,” Guðleifr muttered almost more to himself, just before he went to leave with Kári.

Thorgils though stopped him, with a restraining hand on his arm, a look of visible confusion on his face as he uttered, “Why is it so silent?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it has gone silent, I shan’t hear the second horse that which Gyða rode on to return hither, to warn of the massacre of Helgi and his household.” Thorgils remarked as he strove to listen as best he could for the horses.

“What are you babbling about? Do hurry Guðleifr,” Kári hissed at the two of them, “Quite why I must have an escort back to my home, is beyond me.”

Guðleifr threw his son an exasperated glance, ere he murmured to him to wait for his return. This he did, with Thorgils hardly waiting for his return before he went to investigate the stables. On his return Guðleifr was to find his son awaiting him just outside the stables, wrapped in a fur-cloak he harboured a downtrodden, worried frown on his face.

Guðleifr felt his stomach, sink down to his feet, “What is it, my son?”

“It is Auðun, he and the horse are missing.”

“What? How could this be?”

“He was silent throughout our conversation, with Kári and the rest of them, I suspect he slipped away while we were distracted.” Thorgils revealed in a trouble voice, brow furrowed and hand in his short beard.

The first instinct that Guðleifr had to was curse the folly of youth and to give chase after the sorcerer’s apprentice, and to drag him back to the keep. His next instinctive reaction was to throw something or to break the nearest object; such was the violence of the anger that overtook him.

He knew with a glance at his son’s worried expression that this instinct was unlikely to be the best one, so that he once again as with talk of vengeance against Helgi’s killers, he stifled his anger. It would not do to give vent to anger, when it might be better served he thought, by trying to discover where it was the two had raced off to.

This he was to query after a moment later, after seeing the stables’ interior for himself, so that he was to exclaim, “Those two fools! Where could they have gone?”

“Likely east, I followed while you were gone some of the horse-tracks,” Thorgils told him if quietly so, “I think that Auðun gave chase after her, out of sentimentality and because we did not pay heed to his words.”

“He would have followed that blasted stepdaughter of mine; even had we paid him more attention,” Guðleifr grumbled furiously.

Contemplating the road that stretched east through the village, and out of her, Thorgils considered his words. It was his view that much as Auðun had behaved in a manner many might call foolish, others might well have accused him of being the most stupid of love-struck fools. Yet there was a part of Thorgils that could not help but question this more conventional view on the matter.

He was to ask of his father, “Should we not go after them? They will need aid and protection, especially given the nature of Sigrún.”

“Hmm,” Guðleifr grunted visibly annoyed wherefore he threw his hands in the air, saying as he did so, “We will decide how best to proceed on the morrow. I must speak with Gertrud, and speak to Baggi as he is the only person besides Thormundr with any horses.”

Thormundr had taken the only horse he owned, on his journey Thorgils had noticed, something that he knew was the reason for his father to call for a visit with Baggi. The mayor was an excellent horse-breeder, one who had acquired the art after time spent in the south, in the lands of Valholant. There he had spent some of his youth, learning to breed, train and care for horses and on his return some decades ago, he had begun to raise the finest steeds in the region, after those of Helgi of course.

Baggi though typically held them up, and was fiercely protective of them, and rarely if ever let them out of his sight. Thorgils was not certain that the old man was likely to part with one now that Ragna had passed, as it was usually Ragna who persuaded him to lend them out (even if for a price).

“Should I return home, at once with you?” Thorgils asked, wondering about the purpose of staying in an empty castle since he knew that Gyða had decided to stay with their family, for the night.

“Stay, but for a half-shift, then join us at home, I will have need of you when we discuss this matter with our women, ere I go to look after Baggi.” Guðleifr told him after mulling over his query for a moment.

Nodding his head, Thorgils might well have preferred to prefer to follow his father, than to stay to guard the empty keep, so that he sighed dispiritedly. Reluctantly he was to turn away, to return inside keen to find himself a mug of hot ale, and to warm himself by a fire.

The wind howled as before, it happened that, very night, there was to be another strange event that was to rock the village. One that was to see someone traverse once more through the whole of the village, with the hooves of this stranger’s horses striking the earth with the likes of Wolffish greatly irritated by it.

“How are we to find sleep, if there is still that thrice bedamned rider, traversing our village?” He demanded outraged by this behaviour on the part of this stranger.

The stranger in question was to stop before the home of Thormundr, thereupon the hill where he was to strike the door several times. Awoken from a deep rest he had fallen before a fire, Thorgils was to make his way outside where he was to halt open-mouthed as he stared in shock at the figure that stood before him.