the marriage stone (Discontinued)

Chapter 29 Understanding Duty

It took another half hour to reach their destination, and by then the sky had brightened considerably. The adrenalin from the battle had at last worn off and Harry was left with nothing but the empty horror of what he had seen. As they moved higher up, they found themselves trudging through snow, and Harry shivered violently in the chill wind. A heating charm cast upon his clothes helped but he wished he had not dropped that fur cloak earlier.

They crested a hill and Harry saw at last the tall stone battlements of an enormous Keep rising out of the rocks ahead of them. In the dim light of morning, torches still burned from the walls, and Harry could see warriors walking the battlements, all armed with heavy crossbows. The castle was enormous, though of a much different design than Hogwarts. This one was starker in ornament, a fortress of war rather than the ornate palace Hogwarts was. It was made up of great walls and large blocky halls, and as Harry moved further up the hill he could see that the walls extended a great distance off to either side. A thousand people could live inside such a structure, and from the looks of the men upon the wall this was a working Keep rather than the school Hogwarts had been turned into.

A horn blared into the pale morning light as they approached, and Harry saw the great iron portcullis that guarded the entrance to the fortress being drawn upward. As he followed his guides inside, the trail of corpses moving ahead of him, he felt the tingle of wards washing over him. That at least was familiar - that at least was something he understood. Like Hogwarts this place was warded with magic. But why he had seen so little other evidence of its use among the men who had taken him, he still did not understand.

Cries of horror and grief greeted him as he directed the bodies into the center courtyard and set them down on the ground. Women swarmed over the bodies of the dead, wailing their grief over the loss of their loved ones and Harry stood there in numbed silence uncertain what to do. He could see small children clutching the bloodied hands of their fathers, and watched in silent horror as a girl only a few years younger than he was stroked the hair of one man's head only to realize that the head was no longer attached to the body.

"Come away, Harry," Alrik urged, and Harry allowed the man to lead him away from the grizzly scene and into the heart of the castle.

Moments later he found himself in an enormous Hall that reminded him vaguely of the Great Hall. There were no floating candles, and no animated sky. But there were long wooden tables and the walls were draped with heavy tapestries. One wall had three huge fireplaces, each lit with a roaring fire. Alrik led him over to one of them, and he sat down on one of the table benches only distantly aware of the activities around him.

Food and drink were brought to the table, men and women milling about. He could see several old women he thought might be healers tending to the wounded men they had brought in, using potions and unguents to seal up their wounds. Two women stopped before him, asked him if he were hurt and then cast several cleaning charms over him when he assured them he was not. Someone else thrust a goblet into his hand and he drank the contents down without checking it first - choking on the taste when he realized it was some sort of sweet ale. A moment later someone else replaced the ale with a goblet of clean water and he drank that gratefully, his stomach at last beginning to settle, his thoughts beginning to clear.

Alrik approached him then, a tall golden-haired man beside him. The stranger was dressed in dragonskin leathers. A cloak of dark blue velvet draped his shoulders. He wore his hair in two braids and had beads woven into his long beard. Though he was young looking yet, Harry guessed by the family resemblance that this man was Alrik's father.

"Harry, this is Lord Asgeir Brand, the Lord of Bifrost Hall," Alrik introduced.

Harry rose to his feet understanding enough to know that 'lord' was not in this case a self-appointed title. He took the hand Asgeir offered him, shaking it firmly. "Lord Brand," he greeted, feeling very much out of his element.