Laugavegur, A Hinterland Journey

Chapter 14 - Skari's Progeny

Across barren, snow-covered flats they walked. Skari led the way, for he knew the path and could rightfully set a pace that would not leave him panting and sweating through his furs. Nor would it be a pace that would cause his heart to pound in his ears, doubling the throbbing in his head from the prior evening's banquet. I may be old, but I am never too old to make bad decisions, he chided himself. To try to out-drink a Dwarf! He shook his head ruefully, but that just made the pulsing in his temples worse.

Ratatoskr's geise had been on his mind most the morning and it did nothing to ease the pain in his head. Skari had dealt with his fair share of geisea as a seer and adviser. He was acutely aware that no matter how much thought you gave to them, they were never what they seemed. He held little hope that the path to fulfilling this geise would be any more direct. He knew it would be best to put the more nebulous parts of the geise out of his mind, for one was likely to go crazy trying to anticipate every eventuality or potential ramification. No, his mind was best set to completing the literal terms of the geise and allowing the other pieces to fall into place, trusting in the wisdom of the gods.

With the flawless glass secured, the next obvious step was the acquisition of water deep. The lands surrounding Fjallabak and southward to Torfi's Realm contained several shallow lakes and ponds, none of which would serve to fulfill the geise's requirements. However, Skari had once spoken to a traveling merchant who had barrels of large lake trout, pulled from a nearby lake called Alftavatn, the Lake of Swans. It was said that though the lake was small and placid, it held within it a hole of great depth. It was from this deep chasm that the fisherman had pulled his robust catch and it was from this same abyss that Skari designed to obtain the "water deep". He was still not certain as to how he would accomplish the feat, but he knew the way of the geise and was sure that the solution would reveal itself once he stood on the shoreline.

In the distance, Skari saw a tall cloaked figure emerge from the thick fog. Though they were many miles from the nearest rest, the man was encumbered by no burdens, and walked with the raised chin of a nobleman at court. His dress was to match. Well before Skari could see the man's face, he could see the gems that adorned his vest and the fine fur that lined his deep green cloak. Skari was puzzled. The cloak was far too thick and fine to be a traveler's cloak. In a heavy fog, like there was, the cloak would absorb so much moisture that it's weight would become a terrible hindrance.

As the man came closer Skari slowed and raised an arm in greeting. "Hallo!" He said. "It is not the finest day for travel. Where are you making for? I see you carry little. Need you any provisions?" The man, his hood obscuring his face, made no response but to continue to walk directly down the trail toward Skari. The seer had spent enough time around nobles to know that some would rather freeze and die of exposure than to request assistance from commoners. So be it, he thought stepping aside to make space for the man, but instead of passing him by the man stopped directly before Skari. "Children, step asid-" Skari cut off. For the first time he noticed that Anja and Tokki were no longer behind him. The seer spun around in a circle. "They can't have gone far..." he muttered to himself.

"Skari..." a voice came, a whisper in the mist.

The seer turned his head back to the stranger, who had pulled back his hood. Skari recognized the man immediately; the curls of blond hair, the delicate bird-like features of his face. "My Jarl," he said bowing his head deeply. The Jarl of Snaeffels stared down on Skari, through lifeless eyes. A necklace of dried blood marked where the dagger of his lover's brother had cut him from ear to ear. The seer was accustomed to meeting the dead, but only whilst using the sight, never like this. "Why are you not at rest, my Jarl? Why do you walk these lands?"

The Jarl laughed a tight, rueful laugh. "Why am I not at rest? I was deceived, you fool. My jarldom, stolen." The Jarl's voice was dry as paper. "I put my trust in you and for my trust, I was rewarded with this." He drew his finger across the fatal wound at his throat.

Skari's heart constricted. He long thought there were no words that would ever cause him greater pain than his own guilt had inflicted, but to know that his beloved Jarl blamed him cut Skari deep as any blade.

"My son..." Skari started, but the man silenced him with a glare.

"I am not your son," he hissed. "I am your Lord and Jarl and you have betrayed me!"

"It would seem betrayal is in his blood." From the mist stepped a woman in peasant's clothes, the hair burned from the left side of her head.

"Inga," Skari breathed.

"Yes, my husband and I trusted you. And same as the Jarl, it was to our own peril," the woman said.

A man appeared behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Digur," Skari nodded to the man. The man's face was hard, impossible to read. "I swear to you both... to you all," Skari motioned to the Jarl of Snaeffels. "I tried my best to protect you all. I never wished any of this to happen to you."

"That is so reassuring," said Inga, as she touched the weeping wound on her head where a rock had crushed her skull.

"I actually think it makes it worse," said the Jarl. "Had you colluded with my usurpers, I could at least admire your guile and ambition as opposed to lament your incompetence."

"Why don't you just recognize the truth, Skari? The gift of sight is just too strong for you." Digur almost sounded sympathetic. "You thought you could interpret your visions. You thought you could be a savior."

"But you were wrong," said Inga coolly. "You have no control. You are simply a tool manipulated by the gods, subject to their whims and powerless to influence any proceedings."

Skari thought back to the last time he had seen Digur and Inga. They had been together making their way up to the Five-Cairn Pass. That day, the sky had also been filled with fire and smoke. The sight had been so convincing, we were to be victorious! Had I known, I never...

"I should have been the one to die on the pass that day." Skari's voice was ragged.

Inga crossed her arms. "Yet it was you that sent my husband and I to our death. While our bones were being picked clean by the ravens, you returned to Skogar a hero."

"I received no hero's welcome, I assure you. The Huldu were blamed for Katla's escape. Life has not been easy..." Skari stopped.

"And yet, here you are again. Have you not hurt Digur and I enough? Will you now lead our children to their deaths as well? You cannot say no, because you do not know. You have no idea what the gods will require of you."

Skari buried his face in his gnarled hands. It is true. I have no control. I've never had any control. When he looked up, he was surrounded by the dead; hundreds of people stretching out into the fog in all directions. Countless. Some he knew or at least recognized, most he didn't. How could I have led to the demise of so many?

"This," said Inga. "This is the legacy of Skari the seer." 

Skari is suffering, but does he deserve it?

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