An Homage Due
The landscape of the Downs was one of grim foreboding. The constant sight of the mounds of the buried dead served as a constant reminder of mortality to the living. As Hagen's horse carefully navigated the winding and broken trail as it snaked between crumbling rocks and dormant fissures between the halls of the dead, Hagen was abundantly aware that his own death was likely drawing near, set in the stones of fate the day he took up his seat in the Chief's Hall.
Hagen looked to the sky, a dark blue canopy hung over the world as twilight sent the sun into retreat, it's last shades of light rendering the horizon in an orange glow. Everything had turned ill for Hagen since his rule began. Now rebellion had come. Hagen gave a venomous look behind him where his thanes and huscarls followed, all sharing his brooding mood. At the very rear was Elias, healed from his disastrous command in Valegard. Hagen had sent him forth to atone for his grave failure of abducting Gabe Jorkson's son. Though he survived, Hagen still could not forgive him, especially now that Rjork, Gabe's clan, was now in open revolt against him.
Hagen faced forward again, his breath coming in a frozen mist. The dark grey rocks, gnarled and twisted along the flanks of the path began to give way, and the land smoothed as more ordered mounds took shape, crowned with yellow grass and snow. The shriek of a barrow-wight was heard in the distance, it's shrill voice carried over the mounds, compelling the Chief's party to put their hands to their weapons. The chief only spat. "Bah! Easy lads. A wight wouldn't dare show itself to us."
As the deep of night set in, the flicker of lights on the horizon grew into view to reveal Obasi's Temple. It's crumbling walls were lined with torches, and a fire burned brightly within the courtyard. Waiting for the party, despite no advanced warning of his coming, was the holy man Obasi, along with a few barrowmen.
"It it isn't the Chief of the Barrowdowns himself," croaked the voice of Obasi in an insolent tone, "come to grace us with his presence." Hagen frowned, but held his tongue. He expected a frosty welcome given he had not visited nor sought counsel with the aged seer since becoming chief. "You will have to forgive me, my Chief. These old bones do not bend as easily in my old age," chortled the priest, tapping his hands to his knees. He turned to walk toward the low stone building that was his temple, "Come, come, Chief Hagen. I suspect you will be wanting food and rest, and perhaps a seat by a warm fire. Spring has not come to the Barrows yet, you know. Come!"
Hagen followed the priest inside, leaving his men to raise a camp in the temple courtyard. Within the priests chamber, a simple room lined with shelves of scrolls and books, a rough and splintered table and a hearth containing a dying fire. An acolyte tended the fire and laid out a platter of roots and berries, with a pitcher of cool mead. Hagen silently wondered if such humble fare was brought out before Daan Rabson's visits. As he chewed a stem of snowberries, he highly doubted it.
Obasi took a seat across from the chief, easing into the creaky chair. "I thank you for your hospitality," Hagen said, as he swallowed a sip of mead.
The old man merely shrugged, sure to point out the insignificance of Hagen's visit. "I extend such hospitality to all Norse who visit my hall." The chief frowned, beginning to believe this visit was a wasted effort.
"Have Tharold and Valencia come to you?"
Obasi raised an eyebrow, his cloudy blind eyes seeming to pierce into the chief. "Is that why you come? Searching for wayward Barrowmen?"
"Of course not." Hagen said, letting anger seep into his voice. "Its merely something on my mind, and thought I'd ask."
The priest scoffed. "You need Tharold's help in dealing with this rebellion."
Hagen wasn't surprised Obasi had already heard of Gabe's call to arms, and it was true he needed his help, but in truth it was Valencia that occupied most of his thoughts. "Aye. I am seeking aid from the hetmen of all the clans, and from yourself, wise one."
Obasi choked on a mouthful of mead, laughing heartily like some great joke had been told. "You will not get it Hagen, son of Ralf. The Hai clan is utterly alone."
"I won't?" Hagen said through clenched jaw, unable to contain his anger. "And why is that?"
"Because of your many failures, of course!" Obasi said, like the answer was beyond obvious. "Dravsson's raid, the following proving, your defeat in Valegard, and lastly, and greatest blow of all, the abduction of Gabe's son. You are perceived as weak by the others, unfit to rule."
"I am weak am I? If I am, what are you? Some frail man passing judgement in a hovel?!"
Obasi smiled. "Oh you may find I am stronger then you might suspect." Hagen was tempted to test this theory, but alas striking an old man in his own hall was beyond him. Instead he stood up.
"I go on without your support then. Doomed or not."
The bony hand clutched at Hagen's sleeve. "Are you Godless? Defeat Gabe and his allies and return to me proven to deserve your seat. Hold the Gods in your heart, Hagen, or die and be forgotten, rotting away above ground with no mound to speed you to All-Father's hall."
Hagen jerked his hand away stopping short just before leaving. "I ask a favour before I leave you." The old man tilted his head, amused. "Keep Gardar Gabeson here and under your protection until I come for him, or I die."
"I will do as you ask, but I want another."
Hagen turned to face him. "Who?"
"The Dark Elf in your company."
"Elias?"
"Yes. Elias."
Hagen was about to ask for the purpose, but decided against it. "Very well." He turned and made his leave. The pale eyes of Obasi seemed to watch the door for a moment. He smiled.
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