Trav slowly turned to look the wolf woman in the eyes, but she didn’t flinch. Why should she? he thought. From her perspective, she hadn’t said anything wrong. Narnaste had never been brutal to slaves and found the whole establishment distasteful, but she was still Kin. This exchange had been a good reminder.
Trav said, “Alright, so what I’m sensing is probably in the human settlement, or whatever it is?”
“I suppose.”
“Then I guess we need to check out what I’m sensing. I need every edge I can get. There is no guarantee that there is even anything there for me at the Faithful town you are taking me to.”
“There are no guarantees in life, yes, but I don’t like this,” said the wolf woman. “Kin will kill you, but I am almost sure a settlement this far out in the middle of nowhere will be human. A human settlement will probably check to make sure you are not Kin, so I cannot come with you if you must go.”
Trav raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you worried about humans? You could handle Dacith even before I marked you. Why do you care if they know you’re Kin?”
Narnaste’s ears twitched. “You were human, so I assumed you would order me not to fight them.”
“Not necessarily. My goals are more about survival and revenge right now. I’m not exactly in the mood for charity or brotherhood.”
“Even so, we must be cautious.”
Trav rubbed his chin. “Still, you can turn into a wolf the size of a house. What is the problem?”
Narnaste’s expression turned shifty. She paused before responding and said, “Wild humans can be dangerous.”
“Oh?”
The Kin woman grew noticeably uncomfortable. “Natural Kin abilities and runecrafting are the only pure magic that is stable and will not alter the user or the environment on Asgard. There are other kinds of magic, though. Dark magic, twisted power does exist, and some humans have recently been seeking out some of the lost secrets that should have stayed buried. Witchcraft is almost always evil or at least harmful to the user. Plus, there is only one of me; they will outnumber us for sure.” She shrugged. “Even if I survive, if you were to die, I will have failed—both as Faithful and as your vassal.”
That bit about witchcraft made Trav pause. He briefly wondered whether he could trust Narnaste’s information due to her Kin perspective, but he decided that caution was wise. At the very least, he could ask more questions. “What do you mean they alter themselves? Witches, right?”
“Human mages who practice witchcraft eventually show marks of their deals with spirits, and they will almost always give in to the temptation for more power through evil means. When humans kill each other, the Kin do not care, but sometimes they even try to trap Kin.”
Trav briefly thought it was a little ironic for a Kin to talk about anyone else being evil, but avoided quirking an eyebrow. “They trap Kin?”
“Yes. And sacrifice them.”
“And they can actually do that?” Trav asked, thinking about the massive difference between the Kin and human slaves back at the mines.
“Sometimes, yes. Human witches make pacts with things from beyond the Veils that should be left alone. And a truly powerful witch can even sometimes attract worse things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t actually know for certain. They have not been seen in many years, but there are legends and histories that describe them. In fact, it is part of why most Kin believe that the High Masters are dead.”
Trav checked the time by the sun in the sky and sucked his teeth. The current subject of conversation fascinated him and wasn’t triggering any of his foreign memories yet. He wanted to keep pumping Narnaste for information, but time wouldn’t stand still if he did, and he wanted to get moving. He wasn’t sure where his sense of urgency was coming from, but it was real nonetheless. “We will talk about this later. For now, I think I will go visit the village alone. Will I stand out with what I’m wearing?”
“A bit, but they will probably assume you are a human frontier mercenary or some other sort of fighting man.” Narnaste didn’t look happy.
“What about my story that I am an escaped slave?”
“The humans in the wilds and the frontiers don’t exactly love the Kin. They will probably not question it.”
Trav stood still for a moment, thinking. He agreed that the beacon was probably at a village. Going by himself was potentially dangerous, but he was not a normal human anymore. The forest was so thick that horses would need to stick to roads, and Trav was really, really fast these days. He’d been running down game over the last couple days without many problems. Ultimately, he wanted—no—needed more power, and it was time to get some revenge. None of his plans would be possible if he was not willing to take some risks along the way.
The Kin woman flinched as Trav began talking, obviously having predicted his next few words. He said, “Narnaste, I want you to stay here and wait for me. I am going to head into the village alone. If there are any problems, I will come back here right away.”
“May I move closer?”
“Only if you feel it’s truly necessary.”
“Fine.” Narnaste folded her arms. “I will obey, Master, but please do not be reckless. If you give a signal, I will come.”
Trav merely nodded, not sure what else to say. The power dynamic he had with the Kin woman could be confusing at times. He cleared his throat, secured his gear, and began heading toward where he’d seen the smoke.
***
On his way through the forest, Trav idly practiced summoning his shiv, something he could do now that the weapon was soul-bound to him.
When he’d first realized that the process had begun, he hadn’t exactly been happy. He had a few memories of Odin’s soul-bound Gungnir, a mighty spear worthy of a god. As far as Trav knew, the soul-binding phenomenon was unique to the Restless, and there were so many variables that it couldn’t be forced. Not all of the Restless had ever even managed it. Weapons, armor, or tools, anything could be soul-bound. The effect on each item varied as well, but the strange magic imparted was almost always useful.
Odin’s powerful spear had been terrifying. Meanwhile, Trav had gotten lucky enough to soul-bind with a tool, but it had happened so soon after receiving Odin’s mantle that he hadn’t even had any possessions worthy of it. If the wild magic had bound his new spear, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but instead, his crude shiv was now a part of him...forever.
Trav stared glumly at the blade in his hand, remembering how he’d acquired it in the first place. The weapon wasn’t much more than a piece of sharpened steel with a dirty leather grip. It was ugly and would remind Trav of his days as a slave for the rest of his life, but at least he could imprint it with new rune equations now.
As far as Trav knew from Odin’s memory, this ability was completely unique for a soulbound weapon—it had never manifested before. He was just happy for small favors. His shiv wasn’t the greatest weapon in the world, but being able to store and quickly scribe rune equations was actually handy, even though he still needed to spend his own energy to make the magic actually work in most circumstances.
After climbing a tree again, he verified that he was getting closer to the village. It was time for a quick break, an opportunity to scribe a few more rune equations to save with the shiv, coaxing the tool to remember the complex spell formations.
As a soul-bound weapon, he could feel the thing pulling on him, almost demanding a name. The sensation was strange, and Trav didn’t really want to name the ugly knife in the first place. He could put it off for now, but he knew he’d eventually have to deal with it.
For now, he concentrated on loading a couple more rune equations that didn’t require too much energy to activate, as well as a few basic glyphs, sigils, and basic runes. He’d been training the shiv every few hours ever since he had discovered its nature, and had quite a few rune equations to call upon now. It was difficult to know what he might run into now that he was free in Asgard, but he
had no desire to die any time soon, nor be recaptured.
Trav snarled as he thought about the smug Kin. Some of them would get the surprise of their lives when Trav eventually came calling, armed with the power of Odin. Of course, he needed to survive to that point and keep growing in power first...somehow.
With that cheery thought, Trav began moving again. He was getting close enough to the village now that he could actually smell it. Smoke and other smells of primitive civilization assailed his nostrils.
After walking farther, he stepped out of the trees and found himself on a bare earth path with wheel ruts worn on both sides. The little road was crude, and Trav noticed how the surrounding vegetation hadn’t been cleared very far from the edges. He didn’t know what it meant.
The wary man began moving in the direction of the settlement, ready to run away as fast as he could if he actually ran into any Kin. With nerves vibrating like piano wire, he rounded a bend and got his first good look at the village.
The first thing he noticed was that the heavy open gate had burning torches atop it, even during the day. The gates and surrounding walls were made of rough logs. A few children were playing outside the entrance. As soon as they saw Trav, one screamed, and all three of them ran inside the gate.
A few moments later, a couple roughly dressed men in furs hurried out, bows in hand, arrows on strings. They stared at Trav, eyes moving from his armor and clothing to his spear, sizing him up. “Who are you?” one asked.
Trav relaxed a bit now that he knew he was truly dealing with other people but didn’t let the reaction touch his bearing. “I am just a traveler,” he lied. “What is the name of this place?”
The man on the right ordered, “Don’t come any closer.” His fingers on his bowstring twitched, and a piece of food in his beard fell to the ground. The two men must have been eating. “What is your name?”
“Trav. Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter right now. These are dark times. What is your business here?” Behind the men, Trav could see a few more men gathering, probably ready to shut the gates. Movement at the walls suggested at least one archer was taking position, ready to pop up if things got ugly.
Trav thought fast. “You are right; these are dark times. Traveling alone has been dangerous. I seek food and shelter.”
“Can you pay?”
“I can pay in trade.” Trav carefully reached back and raised the wrapped longsword where it has been secured to his pack, the weapon he’d acquired during the fight with the Kin several days earlier. “I have a Kin longsword. It has been marked with a sigil and will not dull.”
The two men with bows slightly lowered their weapons. The one on the left who looked a bit smarter asked, “Truly? How did you get such a thing?”
Thinking fast again, Trav said, “They kill each other, and someone lucky or patient enough—” He let his voice trail off.
From behind the two men, another man walked out of the gates. He was large, his arms burly. One side of his rough clothing seemed to be stained. The new man shifted the baldric he wore with an axe and pouches attached, then he planted his fists on his hips and spat. “Let him in. We haven’t had as many come by lately for trade.”
“You just want to examine the sword,” said the guard on the right, sullen. The other guard shot him a look.
“Yes, well, I’m the blacksmith, and the headman will hear me on this. Do you want to argue, Harl?”
The guard looked like he might say something in response, but eventually he just shook his head. Still, Trav didn’t move until the burly man beckoned. “My name is Feth, and I do most of the ironwork in these parts. Come take your entry to Wall Home and let’s take a look at that blade, eh?”
Trav had to think for a second about what guard had meant, the wording had been strange. He slowly walked forward, trying to appear calm and confident, but he still didn’t feel safe. If anything, the atmosphere felt tenser than before. He didn’t miss how people kept eyeing his spear, either.
Chapter 15
Trav’s rickety chair creaked. He sat in a crude room he had paid for, resting his chin on his hand, thinking. The faint light cast from the room’s little oil lamp was not a problem since his emberstone eye allowed Trav to see just fine. In the back of his mind, his strange new senses buzzed, telling him that what he sought was nearby. Now that he was closer, he was even more sure it was not a memory shrine like before.
Something was wrong with Wall Home, the village.
He still couldn’t quite put his finger on what the problem was, but his instincts had been jangling, demanding his attention.
Over the last few hours, he’d conducted trade and seen most of the village. He’d received barter for the longsword, amounting to a handful of jewelry, all of varying value. The weapon had been worth far more than that, enchanted as it had been, but Trav hadn’t made a fuss.
Around the village, only a handful of people looked happy, vibrant, and healthy. The majority of the villagers were malnourished and seemed terrified.
As a smiling old woman had led him around, Trav had paid careful attention to his surroundings. He’d eventually determined where the strange, tugging sensation had to be coming from—straight from the only guarded area in the village other than the walls.
The village had been built at the base of a cliff, with the high, rough-hewn walls actually attached to surrounding trees as well as buried at the base for strength. A section of the cliff had been fenced off, and no-nonsense guards stood outside. The always-smiling blacksmith, Feth, and Grood, the settlement’s headman, had explained that the area was where the settlement’s mine was located.
Now that he was back in his room and thinking, Trav slowly shook his head. He’d kept an eye on the mine the rest of the day and hadn’t seen anyone heading in or out of it. If it’d been a real mine, shouldn’t someone be bringing out ore, or at least doing something other than just standing guard outside?
The small plate of food in his room was still warm—a slice of bread, some vegetables, and what looked like mutton. Trav hadn’t touched any of it, nor the water skin he’d been provided with. He’d paid for them along with the room for the night, but he still had plenty of money left over after selling the Kin longsword. He’d been eating well while traveling with Narnaste. The Kin woman had made hunting easy, and luckily, Trav didn’t really feel very hungry.
His nerves grew more agitated by the minute, and now that he had memories of an eons-old god locked away in his head somewhere, Trav decided that listening to his instincts was a good idea. It was time to check out that mine, hopefully get what he came for, and get the hell out.
Trav held out a hand to summon his shiv—every bit of practice with his new abilities was probably wise. As the weapon appeared in his hand, he frowned. He really did need to name the damn thing, but it could wait.
He quickly grabbed some of the salt from the table. Apparently, salt on Asgard was easier to find than in medieval Earth. This would make his job easier.
With a few economical motions, Trav made a circle with the salt. If he grew more powerful in the future, a salt circle wouldn’t be necessary for the types of rune equations he was about to do, but now it was.
Inside the circle, he placed some power in the salt, purifying the area he was in. Then he lightly scratched the rune equation he had in mind on his own skin, making sure to press down deeper on the last line. A drop of blood welled up, and Trav carefully tipped his arm over the salt circle. The blood fell, landing wetly, and Trav expended a whisper of magical power.
He felt the working take hold and glanced down, verifying that his body had gone misty. He’d be harder to see now.
That done, he activated his emberstone eye, allowing him to easily see in the dark. Then he created one last rune equation, this one on his stomach. When it was finished, his footsteps grew quiet, magically muffled.
There wouldn’t be a better time to leave than now. Trav gave one last look at his spear, wishing he c
ould bring it, but knowing it would be too great of a risk. He stealthily left his boarding room and the building serving as the makeshift inn. This late at night, the village was dark, a few houses lit with tapers, and quiet. For the most part, even the farm animals stayed silent.
Trav slowly crept through the village, taking his time. Villagers passed at least twice, but he was taking no chances, and it must have paid off. Nobody noticed him. The fact that so many villagers were still walking around seemed strange in itself, though. Trav had always thought that in low-technology societies, people went to sleep and woke up early. Of course, this was Asgard, so he wasn’t sure what normal was for this world.
After arriving at the mine, Trav crouched behind a tree, watching the entrance. He felt fairly optimistic about sneaking in undetected, and he hadn’t used much of his magic on his stealth buffs. Now that he was getting used to his new life, he’d decided to use some gamer terminology from Earth to keep all of his powers straight.
His cousin Ash had gotten him into a few video games in the past. Trav would never be a gamer, but he had enjoyed some of the open world role-playing games that he’d played. In fact, some of those games that had included old Viking mythology were how he knew more than the average person about old Odin myths to begin with.
Funny how life could turn out.
Trav grabbed a rock and threw it as hard as he could, away from the entrance to the mine. The stone bounced off something in the distance, making enough sound to draw away the guards.
Trav made his way to the door as quickly and stealthily as he could. Luckily, the door didn’t squeak as he opened it and stepped inside.
The interior of the mine was not like he’d expected. Instead of a small, cramped tunnel, a clean stone hallway led deeper into the earth. Trav blinked. Right. This is totally a mine, he thought. There were no torches. Instead, the walls had strange glowing bundles hanging from hooks. Trav looked closer and realized that they were bones, feathers, and hair tied together in a very specific manner. The entire bundle emitted an otherworldly green glow.
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