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Halfr- slipping from reality!
Walking briskly along the streets of the new city, past a myriad of half built buildings and billowing canvas tents Halfr shook his head. The work was progressing far too slowly they needed more workers already he had been forced to dispatch a whole unit of his guards to aid in the construction of Wyrma’s main headquarters. hmm palace more like he thought with another shake of his head. He pictured the ambitious woman’s reaction when her son informed her of the slow progress, with still no word of Tinar and the northerners that escaped Umbar her patience was growing thin. He too was anxious for news of his own son and the others that travelled with him, more than a week had passed and still there was no word from any of them, he considered more than once dispatching a party to look for them but the city was at a tenuous stage and every warrior was needed to insure it survived its infancy undiscovered.
As he reached the steps to Wyrma’s temporary headquarters he had again assured himself the that blood of the wolf clan was strong among them, both Korpulfr and Hasrim were able warriors and could look after themselves, even young Tinar had proven himself more than once to be quite capable with a sword if need be. A look of self satisfaction curled his lips as he walked down the long corridor to the temporary counsel chambers in Wyrma’s quarters, he had trained them all well and they would return when they had something to return with!
Pushing open the doors to the counsel chambers he confidently stepped inside. The room was almost circular in shape with a wide dais to the far side of the room upon which Wyrma sat with her husband to the left of her and her sons either side, around the room sat the leaders of each clan and those chosen by Wyrma to make up her personal counsel, to which he was part and now walked up to take his place among them. Once he was seated Wyrma rose to call the counsel to attention, he listened idly as the various leaders and counsel members made their reports to their leader. A goblet of dark red wine was poured for him and he rolled the goblet in his hands as idly as he listened, sipping slowly at the spicy fruity red until Wyrma addressed him directly.
“Halfr! What news do your scouts report?”
carefully setting down the goblet he rose to his feet, clearing his throat before he began. “Scouts have reported increased activity coming to and from the corsairs city, as expected after the northerners destruction of the docks” he began stolidly. “Our people within the city have also reported increased security at both the docks and around the city in general, It looks like Lord Falasmir maybe expecting hostility from the north!” he finished with a grin of irony.
“Yes and the traders in the city have also informed us of an increase in taxes to cover the expenses of repairs to the docks and there is rumour also that he plans to use the peoples taxes to fund the building of several new ships and the training of more soldiers to his army!” Wyrma’s eldest son Walat put in raising to his feet. Wyrma nodded but did not look at her son she still held her powerful gaze locked with him and he knew what answers she would be looking for next.
“No word has yet been heard of your son and his companions, but I assure you he is in the best of company, I have no doubt that they are only being over thorough in their task and will return soon with news of the northerners,” he answered confidently saving the astute leader from having to ask. She nodded and as he took his seat she moved on to the next issue, the meeting went on for several hours with the wyrm leaders patience growing increasingly thin as expected. Halfr’s goblet was filled twice more before he suddenly began to feel drowsy, he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts as images from his past flashed before his eyes, horrific scenes of battle and death, the mutilated bodies of women and young children decaying in the desert sands. He closed his eyes tight to block out the harrowing memories, but a firm hand on his shoulder made him jump and as he opened his eyes he realise the meeting had finished and everyone had already left.
“Is something wrong ?” Wyrma asked, but Halfr heard not the gravely voice of the Wyrm leader instead he heard a soft warm voice that he had not heard in such a long time, slowly raising his head he looked into the eyes of his leader, but again he saw not the aged face of Wyrma, but the youthful and gentle smile of his eagle wife. Slowly he reached out a hand to touch her face but stopped, firmly shaking his head and struggling to his feet knocking over the goblet of red wine, not noticing the powdery substance that laced the bottom.
“This is not real!” he muttered raising his hand to his forehead, “It’s just the illness, not real, she’s dead the Haradrim killed her!” he went on stumbling to get away from the image he believed was just in his head, seeing the door he turn desperate to get to his room and take the medication Asrim had assured him would stave this madness.
“I’m not dead my love I am here!” the voice called gently after him. He paused for a moment wanting it to be true, “No you died!” he said firmly shaking his head to stave of the madness threatening to consume him.
“Did you find my body my love? I am alive and I miss you so!” the soft voice replied as he again made for the door. He paused again, No they never did find her body, oh spirits preserve could it really be true? he could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck as she came up behind him slowly turning he finally gave into his madness and dropped to his knees sobbing, “I tried to find you…but Korpulfr and the others I had to keep them s….”
“Shh It’s alright, everything will be alright now, we will keep them all safe!” the voice whispered softly as he felt gentle arms wrap around him.
On a small ledge below the high windows of the counsel room a horrified weaver spider sat watching events unfolding below. The Raakaharn, the strong and stolid leader of the wolf clan reduced to that of a sniffling child before the great Wyrm, sudden terror wrecked the small weaver and it scuttled quickly through a small crack in the woodwork, then once outside it leaped into the air changing into the form of a red kite and hurried as fast as his wings could carry him towards Umbar and his brother to tell him what he had just witnessed.
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