And so things went.

Helna's village, the Cwge, and Híubard entered alliance, their uneasiness with each other fading over time as Sif stood watch over them. If anything, warring was entirely to their benefit; the soldiers from Calsar would arrogantly arrive with supplies for themselves, and then be driven off at first battle. Their weapons broke against armor that Sif had blessed, and vice versa.

He felt pleased that they had grown destitute, and lost control of the land. The simple request that Yrnhold drive off the Cwge had went from a matter of dusting off remnants of Calsar's enemies to open rebellion from his own people, who had been put upon. Even the coven of Híubard proposed that perhaps Lady Aoife should take her settlement to the same side of the river the others rested on, as the land was more agreeable there. He had been hard against her at first, but softened at her plight; who couldn't summon compassion for a young girl forced to do the work of a grown man, waging war and keeping her people from starvation?

By the next few months, another two villages had come to them for protection; and then it was three. A large stretch of territory was ravaged as the fighting became more tumultous.

At last, it seemed just Calsar's regional guard would not do. Many of them defected upon seeing their friends and family take up the other side.

A party of men carrying Calsar's banner and another that, according to Rágn, meant diplomacy, came to Híubard.

" We wish to speak with the coven Yrnhold and his god of the land, the so-called Lord Hélna," one of them said. " My master Dubhán seeks parley."

" Strip yourself of weapons, and we shall speak," Rágn told them. " We are more than open to negotiation."

They did so; and being found not to carry any concealed, they were let to the meeting room the rebellion often used.

Upon seeing them, Sif felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. One of the men, gaunt and severe, was wearing the same style of priest clothes the man he had stolen his tongue from had had.

This was the man who sat with them.

He ignored Yrnhold entirely, instead setting his eyes on Sif. He wore jewelries that Sif had never seen before; metal of light yellow and stones translucent, glittering more than the carved rings Sif wore on his belt.

" Lord Hélna, I presume," he said, tapping his finger on the wooden table.

" And you are?" Sif asked, alert and tense.

He thrummed his fingers across the wood, rings clinking.

" Dubhán, of Bladydd," he responded, voice slow. " You have greatly troubled my master, in order for me to be sent here. I hope you are amenable to my solution for the conflict."

" That depends on what it is," Sif said. " I am amenable to negotiation."

This Dubhán laughed.

" Who am I, to negotiate with a god?" he said. " I merely offer you a choice. You may try to strike me down if it displeases you."

" Then what is your choice?" Sif asked, eyes narrowed. He felt strongly that he wanted to hiss.

" There is something I want across the river," he said, smiling. " Retrieve it for me, and I will let all this pass. I may even call upon Calsar to commend you."

" And what is it that you want?" Sif asked, an eerie feeling overcoming him.

" Only a god may untether another god, they say," Dubhán said. " If you pull up the tether in the Bronze Lake, you will find there an empty body. It houses no soul, for Caedwghe's whores had evil put upon it. Bring this body to me, Hélna. Otherwise, I will content myself to stand by and watch this place and all its people burn."

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