Helga Oakenshield slept her dreams fast and confusing. Flashing before her were all the times she had failed to save people, fire flashed before her, countless swords fell before her eyes thudding into innocent flesh, daggers plunged into the backs of innocents weather they were being sacrificed or murdered. Then the fight flashed before her. Bloodsabre toying with her, he could beat her easily but he was letting her fight, show her strength. He could kill her with both hands tied behind his back but he chose to let her live. Then they stood before her all those she had failed to save, the woman who had been sacrificed to demons, Sol destroyed in body and soul the night that Heimdala visited her and most of all the nameless child of the village in the middle kingdoms who had died when fire consumed them all in the village centre. They with many others stood behind Bloodsabre. The child stepped forward still clutching her rag doll “Why didn‘t you save us Helga? Why did we have to die? You should have saved us.” Sol stepped forward and placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and whispered something in her ear before they both moved back joining the crowd of the dead.

Bloodsabre stepped forward then, circling her as he had done before their fight “You thought that you could save them didn‘t you? How could you think that you could help them, you are as week as a child you stand no chance of defending these people, you can‘t even defend your friends. You are alive whilst the heroes of Amroth are dead. Why? Because you are irresponsible! You are a coward! You send your friends to die whilst you survive.” Helga stood there choking on words that would not come, tears streaming down her face as memories rushed through her head. Then from the shadows stepped Crone.

“Was it worth it Helga, sending me to die to try and retrieve Arkhan‘s soul? I will never make it to Valheim because of you; your pride means that the icon of Amroth has to rot in the pit for eternity. Was it worth it Helga, you killed me, you nearly killed Kakita and Jup only lives because he is more demon than man.” Falling to her knees Helga sobbed her heart out as the faces of the dead crowded round her each sending out there own accusations, their voices rising to a horrifying crescendo. A scream formed in Helga’s throat rising higher and longer until it was all she could hear.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright and found herself in the familiar surroundings of her room. Sweat was pouring off her and her throat hurt, sore from screaming. She pushed off the covers and got herself a drink of water. She sat on the floor shivering, these dreams were becoming more frequent, and it was getting harder to sleep nowadays. She wrapped herself in a blanket as she sat thinking. They were right and that was the problem, if her dreams had just been spouting nonsense then she could understand it however they were speaking the truth. It was not the first time her dreams had disturbed her, nor the first time they had told the truth. She shivered slightly, if only she could find someway to become better, but there would always be the Iceni, the chosen children of Amroth, always stronger, faster, and tougher than her. Heimdala told her that she was one of the most loved of all her children and yet no extra aid was given to her that wasn’t given to other clerics. The Iceni were given gifts other men could almost never dream of, gifts that made them stronger, better at protecting those who needed them. With all her heart Helga wished she could belong to the children of Amroth, perhaps then these dreams would stop, perhaps then she would not fail and people would not die.