We were looking at the backs of the retreating Albs, walking south. Slowly we all went back into the keep. Shelter got on the walls of the keep and addressed the rag-tag force before him.
"I am not a Bolg of many words, Hibernians. But I will tell you this. Today we proudly raised our heads and looked Death straight in the face. And Death… This day Death lowered his eyes." He passed his gaze over all the Hibernians in the courtyard and raised his hand to the skies.
"Hibernia!" We all took the call.
"Hibernia! Hibernia!" As the excitement cooled down, people started taking care of the more pressing matters. We had countless wounded, doors needed to be fixed, the walls were at a sad state. I saw Tigarian standing at the side, nobody getting near him, but nobody really ignoring him. Walking up to him, I placed my hand on his shoulder in a gesture that the Celts use to show sympathy.
"Did I do the right thing, Masnark?" he asked me in a low voice, not meeting my eyes.
"
ou did the only thing you could, Warden." I answered.
The following week was one of healing. We all rested as fresh troops were brought to the lands of Midgard. With them they brought food, wood, Trebs and rams. Everything we would need. Our numbers have bolstered, but in the giant keeps of Svasud and Vindsaul there was calm and quiet. Our spies reported minor movement there. In the few occasions I was in the tower, I could hear Luna and Shelter making plans, breaking them, and remaking them. Trying to figure out what the Norse were planning. Also, on the walls of Nottmoore, we had a relative respite from the Shadowblades. Only a few appeared, and even those seldom and far between.
It was at the seventh day , after most of the work of restoring the keep’s walls and doors was done, that we were notified that we were going to push and take more land from the Norse. The first keep to be taken, we were told, was Bledmeer Faste, the keep would be needed to get a regular support train to our forces that did not rely on the whims of Glasny. We formed up and headed West. We took the keep with no resistance. It seemed like the guards either ran away or went to guard another keep. We took the keep quickly and posted some guards.
The following three days were a haze. Keep after keep fell to us, except for Arvakr Faste which was taken by the Albion army. At the evening of the third day, we came up to Grallarhorn. The Army of Albion was there, to the side. We could see Norse running on the walls, fixing their Trebs, making ready for the attack. There were only a few of them. Luna came up to Shelter, at the head of the force, and impatiently motioned him to bend down. I was close enough to hear them arguing about the Brit force. Rhattar did not want them with us. Shelter said he had no choice and that his word was given to give them the horn. Luna tried convincing him not to allow them to fight at our side, but Shelter did not listen. I agreed with the little keen. Using the Albs was one thing. Fighting side by side with them quite another. After a few minutes of argument, the decision fell, and it was Shelter’s. We attacked the keep.
This is where The Sad Night of Gallarhorn occurred. We attacked. But because of the large number of Albs, we could not utilize our usual tactics. Us Hibernians, who rely on our casters to devastate our opponents could not use that strength! The casters could not link their minds with the thoughts of the alien Saracens, Highlanders and Britons. Some success was made with the Avalonians, but it was meaningless. We could not use our spells without hurting the Brits. This caused much havoc. We started seeing a lot of wounded and unconscious ones, the guards of the keep fighting like savages against us. It has been a mistake.
