Trav privately thought, I’m sure the fact that Greeda was one reason Yaakova left the harpy settlement in the first place factors into that too.
Everyone was lost in their own thoughts for a minute. Ysintrill asked, “When is this going to start?”
“Whenever it starts,” said Yaakova. “The elders do everything in their own time.”
“So does Trav,” said Tiffany. “Speaking of which, I confirmed this morning that I know what to do with Jang-mi.”
“Oh really?” She had Trav’s full attention now. He’d started working to fix whatever was wrong with Jang-mi a few days ago, but he hadn’t had much luck yet. When he’d examined her, first asking her to strip and then clinically following the lines of power before they touched her, and as they moved through her, he’d been fascinated all over again. Then he’d asked her to meditate, to cultivate, to do various things that would theoretically move or build her power.
Trav hadn’t been able to find anything new in Odin’s memories about people with Jang-mi’s power. Since he’d been so pressed for time, what he’d been able to do for her had been limited. He’d given her an enchanted staff that was strong as steel and could impart a powerful electric shock, and a rune equation carved into her shoulder that would allow her to see flows of magic. His hope had been that she would be able to tell him how to fix her later.
Tiffany grinned. “I was able to figure something out. In fact, I sort of healed her. Jang-mi isn’t up to her full power, but she can stand toe to toe with most Kin now.”
“What did you do? How?” Trav leaned forward in his seat.
“I used the stars last night! The idea actually came to me a couple days ago, I think it was something from my mantle, like instinct. I traced lines on Jang-mi’s body, manipulated the starlight hitting her, and eventually something changed. Now she can hold power, or energy in her dantian again, but she can only...fill it now at night. It’s a workaround, but it’s effective. The only downside is she’s obviously more powerful at night now.”
Trav thought about that. “I guess that makes sense, with your mantle being tied to the night and all.”
“Exactly. Not all of her abilities work the same as they used to, but she’s still figuring it out. Everything you’ve given her will help too. Sebastian said he will train her to help him with his duties as my priest!”
“So all of this is why I didn’t see her anywhere this morning?”
“Yes. She is meditating or something right now. When she told me she had to undo years of damage and be ready in case anything happened, it made sense. Leonard is covering until then. I gave her another day because Leonard is so busy, and he really needs a break.”
Trav nodded, and glanced at Bravoosa. No doubt due to his line of reasoning, he saw text run over his vision, the same information he’d seen two days before:
The Oracle was still in his head, still doing Oracle things, and still barely talking to him. Finding out that Trav had a priestess now had been...strange to say the least. He’d actually never ended up sleeping with Bravoosa, just having dinner with her. Trav hadn’t thought the conversation was all that amazing, in fact he’d mostly talked about the odd jobs he’d worked on Earth. But Bravoosa was very obviously smitten now.
After seeing the information in writing about his very first priestess, Trav still wasn’t sure what surprised him most—the horticulture or necromancy. When he got some time, he needed to ask her about it.
The harpy must have sensed his attention because she caught his eyes and smiled, her inhuman eyes sparkling. Trav looked away, pretending he’d just been scanning the room. He was beginning to wonder if the harpy captain was going to try actually molesting him at some point.
At that moment, something began happening on the stage. Motes of purple light danced up from the floor and fell from the ceiling, growing in number until there was a solid sheet of magic. Over the course of about ten seconds, the wall of power formed three different images of ancient, hooded harpies holding ornate staffs. They glowed and magic filled their shapes, like clouds of glowing smoke.
Trav was impressed. The amount of energy to do something like this was not small, and the working was complex too. Maybe this was another remnant of an older civilization that the harpies had adopted—he wasn’t sure. It would be a lot easier to do something like this with an artifact or a tool.
The middle crone spoke, and her voice filled the room. “Hear us, Guide.”
“Hear us, warriors!” said the one on the right.
Then the crone on the left hissed, “Hear us, Allfather!” The old harpy looked right at Trav.
All three of them spoke in unison, producing an eerie harmony. “The trial to earn the Royal Tree shall begin in three days! You will journey to a place you will be informed of the morning of the day the trial begins! You will prove your worth by bringing back treasures to Bernacia!
“The location for your trial, and the rules shall be revealed to you then. Know this: the stage for your trial shall be perilous, and the dead land will seek to keep you!”
Suddenly, the room flashed, and Trav found himself standing before the three old harpies in what looked like a swamp in the middle of the night. He was alone, and the full moon overhead illuminated roiling clouds. “We greet you, Allfather,” said the ancient harpies.
“Hi. So why did you drag me into this time compression illusion?”
“You recognize the working, but this is not surprising. We have consulted the auguries, and we believe you are the Wanderer,” said one of them, the harpy that had been on the right earlier.
“I kind of figured since I haven’t been chased out of town. What are you really here to tell me?”
The Elder on the right made a complicated face and said, “It is actually good that you are a shadow of your former self right now. The only reason we are agreeing to your involvement in the struggle for the Royal Tree is because you are so new, and because you have chosen one of us for your household. Our role is to be impartial, but we are bending the rules because the futures are so uncertain.”
“And because most of the ruling class refuse to believe that a human could be as strong as their warriors,” added the leftmost harpy.
“Or themselves,” muttered the middle harpy.
“The other tribes are not happy about this,” sighed the other two.
Trav could guess, but he asked, “What do you mean?”
“The other tribes are now ignoring the fact you are a human and calling you and your group mercenaries. We have dismissed these arguments based on the fact mercenaries are actually not against the rules. However, this has unfortunately reminded a few families that they can use mercenaries too.”
“So that’s another reason to lock in participants, right?” asked Trav.
The leftmost Elder said, “Yes. We cannot tell you what the team the other two guides have formed look like, but this year is going to be different for everyone.”
Trav got the message. The Elders were indirectly warning him that Hravalin’s competitors had hired mercenaries. He was glad for the information—information was power—but he wanted to understand the Elders’ motivation. “Why are you telling me this?”
The center crone said, “Asgard is not ready for the High Masters to return, but the rain comes whether the earth wants it or not. Trying times are ahead. Many forces are conspiring against you. Know this—we are not your allies, but we are not your enemies, either.”
Trav gave them all a level look and slowly nodded. “Got it.”
The swamp disappeared and Trav was suddenly back in the private room.
On the stage, magic swirled and the ancient harpies disappeared.
“That’s it?” asked Tiffany. “Really? They sho
wed up just to tell everyone where to be in three days?”
Yaakova shrugged and said, “It’s tradition.”
“Wow, in all this time, harpies haven’t changed at all,” muttered Ysintrill.
“What’s that supposed to mean, spirit?” growled Hravalin.
Trav ignored the Kin as they dealt with stress and excitement of the news in their own way. He thought about what the ancient harpies had said, and realized how wise they really were. They weren’t actually supporting him, but they’d made a decision that might play out best for their people. Now Trav had a much better idea of why he hadn’t been mobbed by admirers or deniers since he’d announced who he was.
The Elders had likely been pulling strings the entire time. Good, he thought. It was about damn time something had gone his way. Even though the crones weren't supporting him, at least they weren't trying to get in the way. If it was one thing he trusted from people—Kin or human—it was opportunism.
It seemed that leaders hedging their bets was a universal thing.
Chapter 20
Trav stood at the front of his group with Hravalin and Bravoosa. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when they’d traveled to the center of the harpy territory where the Bernacian Royal was supposed to live, but he’d still been surprised when it’d been a swamp. He also hadn’t expected the crowd.
The three Guide groups stood on what was more or less an island in the middle of the bog, about a mile from the Royal palace. All around the island were other little islands, walkways built among the trees, and even little boats—all full of spectating harpies.
Trav turned to Yaakova and whispered, “I thought Bernacians were plains harpies.”
“We are.” She looked around. “This was the site where Bernacia herself received a vision and knew to make this place our home.”
“Oh.”
Trav scanned the crowd. He would have expected more noise, but most of the harpies watching were staying silent. Then he remembered that Yaakova had just told him that this was a sacred place for harpies. Maybe the swamp was like their church.
Something suddenly occurred to Trav. “I haven’t met your mother or father. Are they here?”
“Yes, but I am not speaking to either.”
Trav didn’t know what to say to that, so he looked around instead. He could feel hundreds, maybe thousands of eyes on him and he was very aware all over again that he was the only human on the central island. To his left, the group from the North tribe stood in disciplined ranks, with cloaks and cowls hiding their features. The sheer size of some made it obvious they weren’t all harpies, though.
On his right, the South tribe team stood like chained dogs, quivering with restrained violence. Most of them wore animal skins, and almost all of them carried magical aids and artifacts. Their group buzzed with dark magic and the stink of blood. A good number of them were sending Trav murderous looks, or outright staring at him.
Trav wasn’t entirely sure what the three groups were waiting on. The quiet and sense of expectation made him start second guessing his plans. He’d decided to play this by ear, but to try to fly under the radar as much as possible. Living in the East tribe for a few weeks had made him underestimate the hostility he’d get. Trav wasn’t sure if the angry looks he was receiving were because he was a human or had named himself a god, but either way, some sort of confrontation was likely.
Hopefully, if it came to violence, someone else would be dumb enough to break the rules of the meeting first.
Order had been maintained so far at all times. Well-outfitted guards watched from everywhere, all wearing the royal uniform. There were guards from all three tribes as well, and the various groups of guards seemed to be as suspicious of each other as any trouble from the audience. From the moment Trav’s group had been brought to the island with the other two groups, there had been silence and tension. His fingers tightened on his spear.
Suddenly, a flash of green light and purple smoke bloomed from the center of the island. After the smoke cleared, the three elders were revealed, all holding an ornate staff. Trav turned up the sensitivity of his magical vision and suddenly understood why the surrounding harpies seemed hushed, subdued.
Lines of magical power criss-crossed all the islands, creating a dark web of power. It wasn’t rune magic, but was still powerful. Trav traced the spell working and saw how the three Elders were in control, like they were holding puppet strings. They’d likely inherited knowledge of how to use this array when they’d gotten their positions. If anyone opposed them in this swamp, it wouldn’t end well for their enemies.
Trav was even able to find the section of the array that had allowed the Elders to walk in undetected before making the magical smoke. It was a clever bit of spellwork.
An elaborately dressed old harpy—but younger than the elders—stepped forward. “Bernacians! The time for the Royal trial is here! Most of you know me, the Royal Seneschal. I am here to introduce our Bernacian Elders. Everyone please be respectful and listen to the trial scenario!”
Trav had never seen the Seneschal before, but he knew who she was—probably the second-most powerful leader of Bernacia after the Royal. One of the elders glanced out of the corner of her eye at the Seneschal and it was not a friendly look. Trav quirked a smile, and the elder noticed. She winked.
After the Seneschal got done talking, there was another flash and another explosion. Now another old harpy stood next to the three Elders, but was obviously separate. “The Ancient!” called the Seneschal in mock surprise. “This is truly an honor. The Ancient has not been seen in years!”
As the harpies in the crowd ruffled their feathers in interest, Trav studied the Ancient. She was wrinkled, her skin looked like old leather, and her eyes were grey and clouded. Trav had never seen a harpy that looked more like the harpies from legend, or at least what he thought they looked like based on cartoons and games he’d seen on Earth.
Ugly and evil-looking, Trav decided.
The three Elders were visibly surprised. “Why have you come, eldest sister?” one asked.
“I was given information the younger generation might have lost their way. Pay no attention to me for the time being. Make your announcement.” She made a little shooing motion with one gnarled, clawed hand.
Trav was starting to get a bad feeling.
The Elders seemed to be thrown off their game a bit, but continued with the show. They spoke all at once, “The teams have been settled for some time now. We present the company of Guide Trevall of the North tribe, Guide Hravalin of the East Tribe, and Guide Palaeno of the South Tribe!”
There was a polite, faint rubbing of feathers, and one of the Elders continued, “The place of the trial is a Veil-overlap!”
Immediate rustling met the announcements, even a few whispers, and the Elders held up all their hands at once for silence. “The three Guide teams will be led to different instances of the same Veil-overlap, given provisions, and sent on their way! The team that brings back the most treasures to strengthen Bernacia will win the challenge, deciding the new Royal.
“Any Guide or team member that leaves the overlap may not go back inside. As soon as the Guide leaves, her Trial is over. Only fighters on the official roster will be allowed to enter. All fighters will be implanted with magic to track their return before they enter the Veil-overlap. This is a large overlap, so there are likely other instances in Asgard. There are sure to be many dangers! Guides must lead their companies well!”
Another subdued reaction from the surrounding harpies showed their actual excitement. Trav’s adrenaline started to spike, as two things happened at once. First, he began to learn bits and pieces of what a “Veil-overlap” might be through his borrowed memories. Second, he began to suspect what the enemies of the East tribe—or Hravalin’s sister Greeda in particular—might be trying to do.
The Elders spoke at once again, saying, “There is no time limit for the trial, but death of the Guide is failure. Bringing back fewer treasures
from the overlap than the other Guides will be failure. Do any of the guides have any questions?”
After a moment of silence, the Southern Tribe guide, Palaeno, a tall harpy with dyed feathers stepped forward. “What treasures? How will value be calculated?” Her voice was harsh and challenging.
The Elders nodded. One said, “If there is any question about the judging, there will be a public court session to declare the winner. Treasure can mean anything of value to Bernacia.”
After a slow nod, Palaeno took a step back. Then the North tribe Guide, Trevall, stepped forward and threw her cloak off. As soon as she did, her entire company did too. Trav admired the North tribe’s style even though he knew they were a bunch of power-hungry back stabbers.
In a carrying tone, Trevall said, “The North tribe is honored to be here, and me most of all! But how can we continue like this? I have Kin other than harpies in my ranks, I will admit, but are slaves truly allowed now?”
“Slaves?” asked one of the Elders.
Trav knew exactly where this was likely going, but it wasn’t time to act yet. He stayed completely still but prepared his energy. His power was on a different level now than when he’d first bonded with Narnaste. All of his valkyries had grown stronger too, but Trav had sixteen bars of power now.
He’d thought long and hard about how to use his new power. The more he’d used magic over the months, the more efficient he became with it, so he’d decided to use up two more bars of power on permanent enhancements. His reasoning had been that he wouldn’t always know ahead of time that a dangerous situation was coming.
His earlier permanent enhancements were his two-bar upgrade, Overall Strength, Ventrilomagic, Air Scribing, a weak magic shield, two bars into focus and renewal abilities, Shadowwalk, one bar spent on reaction time before, and a bar in mental toughness. Then a few days earlier, he’d spent two more bars of power raising his agility, durability, strength, and reaction time even further than before. This was possible due to his previous investments.
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