Beth had just been that kind of woman. As slaves, they had never taken life for granted, and out of necessity had had a few very frank conversations. Trav would never stop loving her, he’d always remember Beth, but he’d understood his wife well enough to know she’d fiercely approve of his desire to avenge her murder...but also wouldn’t want him to beat himself up for still having a pulse.
He hadn’t done anything wrong, but on the other hand, he hated the Kin, and Kraachias most of all. Granted, Narnaste had probably saved his life a few times and was incredibly attractive...He idly reached behind him and stroked her leg before gently squeezing her shapely ass. The inhuman woman muttered in her sleep, and her tail wagged. Her hand came up and brushed Trav’s before she settled back to sleep.
The tall man had never been more confused in his life—- not least of which because when the beautiful, scarred Kin woman finally woke up, she could probably still easily kill him. They were enemies, and he was a slave, after all.
Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head—weak, but definitely there. With a slight echo, it said,
Use the tree.
Trav frowned but immediately began searching his vast, alien knowledge for a tree, whatever that meant. The cryptic voice had made him doubt his sanity more than once in the past, but it had never been wrong, and its advice or hints were always helpful, even if sometimes Trav didn’t understand what it had said until it was too late to use the information.
He kept searching, and finally sucked in a breath. The muscular man had finally figured out what the voice had meant. Some of the knowledge in his head still didn’t make sense, but a chunk of it had turned decipherable. He had a much better understanding of runes now that he’d actually used them...and the power filling him gave a new perspective on...well, everything.
Trav’s jaw dropped as he realized what had been locked away in his mind. Based on what he knew now, as best he could tell, he had enough power to craft one permanent rune equation. In fact, he’d even have a little bit of power left over!
Permanent rune equations!?
He delved deep into his artificial memories, figuring out exactly what this meant. As he did so, he thought about the voice, how it had popped into his head shortly after he’d found himself in Asgard. Just moments before that, he’d been on Earth, on his father’s research ship with the rest of his family, then...darkness, a storm, a lot of confusion...and a forest. Of course, he’d been caught soon after that, captured and humiliated, but he didn’t want to think about that.
The voice had appeared a couple days later and immediately began dropping cryptic hints about his new world or mumbling about rune magic. About that same time, Trav had gained access to the disjointed, foreign memories, most of which hadn’t made sense, and over time, a staggering amount of other knowledge. Most of the knowledge hadn’t made sense either, but he’d been able to figure out a lot of what he “knew” now about sigils, glyphs, and runes gradually, via trial and error.
He’d obviously still been missing a lot.
In Trav’s mind’s eye, he could see a large number of rune equations spread out, then two to four runes above each, with even more runes spread about above each of those. When he examined one of them more closely, he thought he knew what they were for. Each rune equation created permanent power within any object he installed them on. Some notes in his head explained the process of creating a nigh-invincible suit of armor that had both offensive and defensive capabilities built in.
“Wow,” Trav breathed. This usage of runes appeared scary-powerful but also would require a massive amount of magic to achieve. The suit of armor example had a rune chain so long Trav couldn’t bear to look at it. Some of the effects were truly jaw-dropping, though...like flight, and the ability to block all damage. With unlimited power, someone with rune knowledge could make a weapon that could crush mountains.
The rangy man looked up at the shadowed ceiling of the cave, crevices like black veins in the dim light. He needed to think. Narnaste’s soft snoring actually had a calming effect, which was strange. He still wasn’t sure that he trusted her—she was Kin after all—but other than Beth, she had probably been his greatest ally for the last three years. Their bond was weird. If his instincts were right, she would have a more magical power than before now, and it was because of her bond with Trav. She might sense that if she killed him, she might lose her new power.
Trav hated the Kin, hated them with a passion. They’d brought nothing but misery and heartache to his life for the last three years. Narnaste was just as alien as the rest of them, but...he’d fought with her, and she owed him as much as he owed her. The troll would have killed either of them if they’d been alone.
The link he’d placed on her moved energy mostly in one direction, the power flowing one way. He examined the bond again, his fingers tracing the lines on his chest. Something was weird; he’d been right before. He felt some sort of resonance, and Narnaste’s power definitely felt greater than it had been.
Actually, that thought led to the troubling implications he’d been avoiding for a long time but really needed to think about now. Why could he even sense magic or do magic in the first place? The answer was both obvious and meaningless: the Voice.
All the uncertainty about everything—being transported to Asgard, sensing magic, understanding runes, and hearing the Voice—all of it still had no answers, but he knew the Voice had to be involved. For a while, he’d worried the Voice was a Kin, or an evil alien or spirit, but over the years, it really had proved itself an ally of sorts.
At first, he’d thought the Voice might have actually transported him to Asgard or been responsible for it, but while it never seemed to give straight answers, he’d heard enough over time that he did not believe that anymore.
Some of the first nonsensical ramblings by the Voice Trav had ever heard were actually starting to make sense now. Rebirth had been mentioned at one point. Trav was scared to admit it, but he knew he hadn’t just picked up all of his knowledge and power from the ground. The Voice was riding shotgun in his head, and merging with him.
He, or it, the Voice had given Trav both knowledge and power. The man from Earth had just begun to understand how powerful whatever the Voice must have been before it had wound up muttering about forbidden lore in his head at random times over the years.
Trav understood the rune tree now, but for anyone or anything to use it to its full potential would require a massive amount of power. Each permanent rune would need a constant investment of magic to keep running. Before bonding with Narnaste, Trav would have never been able to make any of it work.
Even beyond the power, his new bond with Narnaste worried him. Trav had slept with her, which he refused to beat himself up over, but his willingness to even do so in the first place had been strange. Sure, he found her attractive, well, smoking hot in a punk-rock-chick-with-a-tail sort of way. He also liked that thing she did with her—he shook his head. No, he had to think. Why had he just gone with the flow?
He’d been high on adrenaline before, but that still didn’t really explain why he’d banged a monster girl in a cave. He’d just felt...drawn to her in a way he could admit now, but still didn’t understand.
The odd, growing connection between them was undeniable, and Trav didn’t really want to acknowledge any of it, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to stare harsh reality in the face.
With slight apprehension, he dove back into his alien knowledge, examining the rune equation he’d used on Narn and pondering its creation with the benefit of his newfound magical enlightenment. Then his eyes widened. His understanding of the bond before had been incomplete. “I get it now,” he whispered.
The rune equation he’d placed on Narn had been a bond of master and servant. It worked mainly as a self-sustaining tracking link, to either find a servant or allow a servant to also feel their master’s presence. The transference of power would be minor at this stage, but if the servant performed an act of fealty
with the master of the bond, choosing to deepen it…
“How much power do the Kin have?” Trav marveled. He’d opened the escape tunnel with a “minor” amount of power?
So now he knew where his new power came from, but he still didn’t know what to do with it. One thing was for sure—he needed to act, not sit around getting lost in memories. Even though he was fairly certain now that Narnaste wouldn’t turn on him, at least not immediately, there could be another troll around...or worse.
The only weapon Trav possessed was the crude shiv, and he’d already turned it into a sigil tool. It was too small to really do anything else with, and he couldn’t imagine investing so much power into such a crappy weapon anyway. No, he needed something better to enchant.
He didn’t have anything else, though.
Trav sat on the stony ground, brainstorming what to do. With just the dim light on the floor that he’d made, the dark seemed to press in closer every minute that went by. Finally, when he happened on a solution, he quickly went through his rune knowledge and skimmed it to see if his idea was even possible, but he found...nothing. There wasn’t a single thing in his forbidden knowledge about his idea at all.
“Weird,” he mumbled. Maybe his plan was impossible, or maybe it would kill him, but Trav had already decided in the mines earlier that now was the time to stop playing it safe. There were still a lot of things he wanted to do in life and one psychotic Kin in particular that he needed to kill. He wouldn’t be alive to do any of it if the next troll to come by bit his head off like had happened to poor Asta.
His plan decided on, Trav just needed to choose the right rune. He delved into his encyclopedic knowledge, looking over each rune equation with a critical eye. The paths he could take to evolve the overall rune chain in the future would be critically important...if he managed to live that long. Finally, he settled on, “Overall Strength,” a complex rune equation that offered a larger number of less powerful benefits than some of the others. It would be a good experiment, and would also allow for some really amazing future evolutions along its possible branches, whatever rune chain Trav created.
The man in tattered clothing gritted his teeth, located his shiv where it had fallen to the ground earlier, and lifted his shirt. He brushed the weapon off as best he could on his tattered clothing. Then, with more concentration than he’d ever spent on anything in his life, he used his makeshift knife to carve the rune equation into his body below the one over his heart.
The entire process took a great deal of time, but Trav didn’t rush it. The burning lines on his skin actually felt cool, at odds with the heat of his shiv as it cut him. He knew that a single mistake could mean permanent disfigurement or worse. There was no guarantee that the rune equation would work in the first place—Trav’s alien knowledge had been remarkably silent about permanent upgrades directly to a body.
He’d been shocked when he’d verified that earlier, especially since his trove of information included other ways to increase a fighter’s strength, or even infect their blood, but he was sure of it. There was nothing about physical modification. Trav really hoped that his idea wouldn’t kill him, but he’d run out of options. To survive, and perhaps to dig his way to safety, being the same as he had been a day ago would not cut it.
Sure, he could have used his new power to open a tunnel to the surface, but then what? There might be a way to use drawn rune equations to kill, or to protect himself, but during a fight? No way. Asgard was a dangerous world, and Trav refused to be a slave any longer.
Finally, he completed his work. After gently investing power into the new rune equation, which took a while because it required so much, he activated it and tied it to the line of magic flowing from Narnaste. Nothing happened for a few seconds, and the former handyman smiled grimly, accepting that the process had not worked. Then, suddenly, his entire body arched with suffering, filled with every pain he’d ever experienced, but all at once.
The feeling overwhelmed him, and he could not even open his mouth to scream. His body felt like it was on fire, like he’d just been skinned and thrown into a pile of salt. He couldn’t breathe, only...exist, one agonizing second after another. Finally, it all became too much to bear, and he passed out.
When Trav awoke, he could taste blood in his mouth, and he definitely felt weird. He sat up, rubbing his head, and slowly turned to see a pair of luminous, glowing eyes staring at him from a few feet away in the dark.
Normally, he might have been alarmed, but too much had happened to him to react that way anymore, and he was feeling strange, so he just stared back. Eventually, Narnaste crossed her arms across her naked chest and bowed her head. She slowly moved to prostrate herself and bowed again. Her voice full of joy, she said, “I can feel it for sure, it’s stronger now. The divine!” She moaned in happiness and looked up, her eyes full of an emotion that Trav couldn’t place. “The High Masters have returned! The Faithful stand ready!”
Trav adjusted his sitting position off of a sore point and rested his hands behind him. He was still groggy from waking up and definitely felt odd. He frowned and blinked. “What?”
“My Lord, thank you for returning to us! Some of us, the Faithful, have prepared! We serve.” Then Narnaste lowered her forehead to the floor, her arms extended.
Okay, that just happened, Trav thought. He had no idea what Narnaste meant but could figure out that she was not going to kill him. That was good. She seemed to have also accepted their master-servant bond. But in a really strange way. Honestly, her submission, her beauty, and the fact that he’d just had sex with her hours ago all combined to excite him again, but he ignored it. His brain was in charge, not his dick.
The unsteady man got up and began getting dressed. Narn still knelt, and after Trav was done, he shook his head at the kneeling wolf girl.
“What is going on?” he wondered out loud. Then he facepalmed, realizing the simple answer to his question. He could just ask.
Suddenly, a buzzing filled Trav’s mind combined with a pulling sensation. Something was beckoning him, and it felt like it might be nearby. The Voice muttered,
Yes! Go!
Trav placed both hands on his face for a moment before sighing. Everything seemed to be happening all at once, but he was still alive and wanted to stay that way. The Voice hadn’t steered him wrong before, so it’d be stupid to ignore it now. He definitely needed more information, though.
“Narnaste, I think we need to have a talk.”
Chapter 8
Moving through the cave took time. Being ambushed by another troll would be bad, so Trav methodically drew light-casting glyph equations at regular intervals, even placing extra ones before bends. Narnaste followed without complaining, and every time he turned, he caught her studying him. If she’d been a human woman, the open staring might have been less unnerving.
As Trav drew yet another light sigil, he wondered if he should use some of his new power to make a sigil lantern. Before his...transformation, he hadn’t had enough power to even try it. Now that he could, he’d been putting it off because such a thing would constantly draw magical energy while in use. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if his new power would regenerate, or if he should save it all.
He studied the wall for a while before nodding. The future wouldn’t matter if he died today, and they were moving way too slowly right now through the tunnel. He had chosen to move in the opposite direction that the troll had come from, hoping they’d find a way to escape the tunnel—the weird pull he’d felt ever since he’d rune-modified himself led this direction, too.
His decision made, Trav searched around for a flat stone about the size of his palm, then, after a moment’s hesitation, he located another. Narnaste squatted and watched silently as Trav used his shiv to inscribe a variation of the light sigils he’d been drawing earlier. Once he got done with both, he said, “Give me a finger.”
With a completely different attitude than when they’d first met, Narnaste made a face, shrugged,
and offered her clawed hand. Trav channeled a tiny bit of energy through his blade while touching one rock before raising the shiv above the Kin woman’s finger. She said, “Oh, blood,” and pulled her hand away to nip her finger, then placed it back in Trav’s hand.
The bearded man raised his eyebrows before shrugging and let a drop of the woman’s blood fall on the shiv. Once the tip was wet, he used it to make one last line on the stone. “Done,” he said. “If you will the stone to come alive, it will glow. It can be turned off the same way. You can will it to dim or brighten as long as it’s close enough, but it will draw more power from you the brighter it shines.”
Narnaste’s expression seemed to be equal parts bemusement and awe before she held her stone and gently brought it to life. The flat rock acted like a powerful flashlight that she shined ahead, moving it from side to side. She turned her head, eyes wide, and whispered, “I have never seen such a thing. Even the sigil masters in the great cities can’t do this.” She bowed her head. “Divine, I apologize for doubting you. Please forgive me for my anger before, and my arrogance for plying you with this body.”
Trav coughed and busied himself fixing his own glyph lantern. His shiv really needed a cleaning. It had been covered in troll blood, and God knew what else, but being a rune tool, at least it would be magically sterile. Trav raised a lip in distaste as he nicked himself to finish the sigil equation. Since he was expecting it, he felt the connection establish, then willed his lantern to cast a soft glow. The resulting energy loss would have been worrying the day before, but now he knew he could maintain the draw for a full day without a problem.
His lantern complete, Trav said, “Speaking of which, we still need to have our talk. I need to ask you some questions.”
“I will answer.”
Trav eyed the Kin woman, but she had already begun sweeping her light back and forth, leading the way but following his direction, somewhat like a guard dog. The dirty man shook his head. “Okay, before anything else, the most obvious question is why you are following me now. In the mine, you were ready to kill me. I am a slave, and you are Kin, and you’re a noblewoman too, right? Please explain what changed, and be thorough. I will listen. Also, let’s take a right at this fork up ahead.” Trav let the phantom pulling sensation guide him. On his own, he probably would not have followed it, but he trusted the Voice.
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