//------------------------------//
// 18: Völva 
// Story: Fimbulvetr 
// by Alkarasu 
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The old mare looked at the gently flowing water. It was dark, deep and cold. She was alone at the temporary shore, her herdsmates knew better than bother old Knowing One when she was upset.

She wasn't upset, though. For the first time in many years, she was happy. Like long ago, in the life she herself thought a myth at times, she did something she wanted to do. No honor bounds weighted her hooves. No tradition gnawed at her conscience, telling her to do something that was smart and useful to somepony so long ago, that even she never heard their names. For the first time in forever, she was free, even if it was just for a brief moment. It felt nice.

There was, of course, the matter of price. Every action had its price, she knew that well, and freedom was one expensive commodity. Last night she bought the freedom of three. The price was the freedom of the fourth. She had crafted the situation well, as she always did, so she knew exactly what was coming. In the eyes of every pony in the herd, her own daughter betrayed the family honor, spit on her ancestors and parents. That meant the death sentence for her little Irte - if they could find her, of course. She was pretty sure that the griffons were qualified enough for that to never happen. But that also meant that the great and powerful Timer Urman made a mistake raising her daughter. In the harsh life of the herds, there was no place for mistakes.

"This is it, demon? That was what you were waiting for?" she asked the water, and her reflection wobbled and shifted into a different face, a face that had nothing equine in it. It was green, rotten and deformed.

"Whatever do you mean, my dear, dear enemy?" whispered the water, letting out some bubbles from what was the abomination mouth. "I was as surprised as you were when she brought those two cubs with her. Of course, that would've been a simple matter of a small nudge to make that griffon to shoot... but why would I break the treaty for such a pitiful gain? Don't delude yourself, horse, I might call you an enemy, but you never was a setback to my plans. You are not important. You may be useful, though."

"As if I would ever help you," scowled Timer, piercing the water with her gaze. Of course, it had no effect on the entity she was talking to. It only worked on the things that lived, and she wasn't sure that the monster was even familiar with the concept.

"Don't worry, oh mighty enemy of mine. You already did plenty. For that, I will help you a bit. Don't thank me, you have deserved it. Goodbye, horse. We will meet again."

The reflection shimmered and returned to normal. Timer looked at it for a moment, then shot up and ran to the camp. She knew the water devil long enough to know that its gifts were as poisonous as nightshade berries. She had to find what happened and stop it while she still had the power to do it. When she reached the tents, the herd was in an uproar. The elders were slowly filing into the meeting tent, while warriors were running around, checking their weapons and forming patrols as if the camp was under attack. Something had clearly happened, and she was sure she won't like what it was.

"...and I say that it should not go unpunished!" she heard the voice of her younger cousin, one of the elders, through the tent. Gaskery Archan was always the first one to demand retribution, and his words meant only that whatever had happened might've deserved some. "We can... oh, finally! Timer, where have you been? Have you heard the news? The Great Khan was killed! Dragged into the water and drowned, no doubt by one of those traitorous pegasi or griffons of the West! We must make them pay for that!"

Timer looked around the tent and noticed that the gathered elders were murmuring in agreement. Everypony seemed to forget that they've planned to exile her today. Every pony wanted her to lead the charge, as she did so many times before. Any other time, it would've been funny to see how quickly those old fools forgot about that precious honor of theirs when they've smelled war and the spoils it brought. It's not like they'll have to go and fight, they always had their Iron Wood Witch to hide behind. She knew that she will do it again. The cities of the west would burn once more, and the creature in the depth would feed on the misery she brought to the world. It was beyond her power to stop, the war would start with her, or without. She knew she had no choice, though. Too many foals she had brought into this world, too many of her grandfoals would have to go to battle. She couldn't abandon them, no more than she could let Kurgash Irte to climb the funeral pyre. 

"Well played, monster," she whispered through the clenched teeth. "Well played."