Asgard Awakening

by Blaise Corvin

  He’d spent much of that first day of travel trying to talk to Ysintrill and admiring her ears. She really was a beautiful woman, one he had a hard time thinking of as Kin, especially since she might not actually be one. In fact, he wasn’t sure exactly what made a Kin, Kin. They were obviously all different species of monsters. He was sure he’d figure it out eventually, but he hadn’t gotten very far yet with talking to Ysintrill.

  They’d mostly just traveled that day, warily observing each other. Trav had been glad of his new abilities. He’d used a few temporary glyph workings to help build camp, and his permanent upgrades had helped. Since Yaakova slept so lightly, and Narnaste could block the entrances with her huge wolf body, he’d created four rooms bored right into the side of a sandstone cliff.

  Then he’d turned in for the night, planning to get up early and practice his magic. He’d been shocked when Yaakova had come into his cave, acting like she belonged there, and had made a place for herself next to him in his bedroll.

  What had transpired then had been the strangest, most surreal apology Trav had experienced in his life.

  “This is my night,” the harpy had said in a matter-of-fact tone. She’d then explained that the Valkyries had decided that one of them would stay with Trav every night, for protection and company.

  Trav had been impressed with how quickly the women had eventually adapted, but really wished he hadn’t had to share a room with the harpy. Valkyrie or not, he didn’t entirely trust her, even now. The way they’d met hadn’t exactly been pleasant. He even thought about getting up and leaving, but he wasn’t sure if that would create more problems.

  At least now he didn’t have to worry about being overpowered again. Even after Yaakova’s increase in strength from their bond, Trav was much stronger now.

  He’d tried to play it cool, suggesting they just sleep, that they’d had a long day, but he must have made a weird face. The Kin woman had looked away. “I know you probably don’t want me here. When you met me, I was starving, and I attacked you. I thought you were just a human.”

  “Yeah, and humans are just slaves or should be slaves, right?”

  “Well, not always, but you are different.”

  Trav had rolled his eyes at that. “I have power, so I can’t be treated like shit, and that makes me different, huh?”

  “No. You have strength. You are...unique. I,” she’d paused, visibly searching for the words and continued, “regret that we met the way we did.”

  “So you don’t respect humans, and I hate Kin, but we are stuck together, and now you can fly.” Trav had practically growled the words.

  Instead of being offended by Trav’s tone, her eyes had lit up, and she’d lost some tension in her shoulders. She’d said, “Yes, exactly. We cannot choose our family, and this is true sometimes even later in life. I am not sure...about my place anymore, but I know that leaving would be a bad idea. This is a dangerous world, and I am Yaakova Vratsgadatter. I have already proven my worth. Do not disrespect me, now.”

  That had taken Trav aback, and he’d mutely nodded, then he had slowly lay down to sleep but had secretly crafted a few rune workings to last the night for protection. The harpy had given him a lot to think about.

  The next day, while Yaakova had mostly flown around in her raven form, scouting ahead, Trav had noticed that tensions were easing in the group. He’d been a bit slow on the uptake, but he had realized that they must have been unsure about where they’d all fit in and had a bit more confidence now.

  Trav had gotten a headache. Women were confusing enough. Kin women were on another level.

  That night, Narnaste had visited Trav’s bedroll in her woman form, and as usual, she’d been very straightforward with her intentions. Trav had found himself strangely relieved that she hadn’t changed, and after their lovemaking, as the inhuman, murderous, faithful Valkyrie snuggled against him in the dark, he’d had an epiphany.

  If Narnaste were killed, regardless of whether he’d lose power or not...he’d grieve. He’d had to admit that he cared about her, which meant that now Asgard had even more ways to hurt him. Hell, maybe by not keeping control of his feelings, he would be hurting himself.

  But reality was reality, and Trav prided himself from not flinching away from harsh truths.

  That night, after his heavy thoughts, Trav had put his arm around Narnaste, and she’d nuzzled next to him, wagging her tail in her sleep. Trav had been mesmerized, struck by how cute the simple reaction had been, and cursing himself for being so weak.

  He’d turned into a Kin lover, literally. What was next? Actually, no, he’d made a mistake in his thinking. It wasn’t Kin he cared about, just his Valkyries. That had made more sense.

  So the next day, when he’d woken up, he’d decided to start being more proactive. He needed to learn more about this world, and about his companions. The fact that all three of them could easily talk while traveling on Narnaste’s back had made chatting relatively easy.

  Learning about Yaakova’s country had actually been interesting and intriguing. Additionally, when he’d casually described a memory shrine and asked if there were any where she came from, she’d said she might have seen one before. Trav had made a note of that, and then their conversation about harpy politics had begun.

  “So do harpy girls know who their fathers are?” Trav asked.

  “Sometimes. It depends on the mother and whether the daughter is curious.”

  Trav’s curiosity was piqued. “Do you know?” he asked.

  The Kin-turned-raven froze to stillness before she answered. “Yes. This is a problem, in fact. I share the same father as the current Bernacian royal. As a result, she sees me as a threat, and my family wants me to try for the East Tribe guiding tree, and maybe for the royal tree itself. However, I do not want to compete against my sister, or replace my mother as the tribe’s guide.”

  Trav shook his head. “And all this is because of who your father is? Why?”

  Narnaste fluffed her feathers in irritation. “Superstition. My father was a powerful human warlock, one who was still allowed to practice magic even in our lands. It is most likely coincidental, but several of the daughters he has sired have become powerful leaders or magicians. As a daughter of Ruski, I am also considered to be marked for greatness.”

  Trav scratched his cheek. “Then it doesn’t make sense for you to find more power.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t your family expect even more from you then?”

  “Yes and no. If I had more power, I could enforce my will and back my sister’s claim.”

  Trav didn’t know what to say to that. Kin were strange. “So how long will these games last?”

  “They can be as short as a week or as long as a year. As far as I know, the tribes are all still holding the games for their trees right now.”

  Trav grinned. “So if we ever go to your home looking for a memory shrine, and I manage not to get killed or to kill all of your people, you might have to still get involved in all these politics, huh?”

  He’d meant what he’d said as a joke, but he immediately knew he’d offended his Valkyrie. Trav cursed himself as the raven gave him a direct look before winging off into the sky. He really hoped he hadn’t damaged his budding relationship with the dangerous Kin woman. He’d felt a mutual respect growing, one he’d like to cultivate.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  “You really have a terrible sense of humor, Master,” rumbled Narnaste. Trav had forgotten she could hear every word spoken on her back.

  “Yeah, well, nobody’s perfect,” Trav grumbled.

  “Threatening to kill a girl’s entire family is probably not a great way to continue a conversation.” The voice had come from behind, and Trav whipped his head around in surprise.

  Ysintrill smiled broadly, her eyes twinkling before she suddenly reverted back to her previous behavior, face smoothing and growing impassive. Trav shook his head, and grumped, “Seriously? Wow. Now everyone is a comedian. Fine, whatever. I made
a mistake.”

  “Do you really hate Kin that much?” Narnaste asked. Trav thought she’d intended to speak softly, but for a wolf the size of a bus, this was probably not easy.

  “Yes,” growled Trav. “Think, Narn. You know where I come from. You know about what happened to my wife. If you were me, would you love Kin?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said. Trav felt her sag.

  “You should be gentle with Yaakova,” said Ysintrill. “She is giving up a lot and accepting a lot of uncertainty to travel with you. Her life has changed.”

  Trav hummed then asked, “Why is she still with me anyway? I understand why you two are here, but Yaakova could just fly away and take care of her business with her family, right?”

  “It’s not that simple,” rumbled Narnaste.

  “Then explain it. I’m tired of being in the dark. If I have to start asking questions every five minutes, I will. I’m new to...whatever it is I am now, but I don’t intend to keep living by the seat of my pants.”

  Narnaste flicked her ears before responding. “I have not heard that expression before, but I think I know what you mean. First, you probably don’t know that harpies are obsessed with the thought of flying. Even plains harpies like Yaakova can spend their entire lives jumping off things to glide longer distances, or researching magic to truly fly.”

  “They have feathers. They can’t fly?” asked Trav.

  “No, not really, not like a bird,” answered Ysintrill.

  Narnaste said, “The other thing is—”

  “You can say it,” Ysintrill encouraged. Trav raised an eyebrow at that. This was the most he’d heard the elven-looking woman say at once in days.

  After clearing her enormous throat, Narnaste finished her thought. “We all feel a pull toward you. We lose some or all of our new power if we do things we know you will not approve of, too. We’ve experimented.”

  “It’s true,” said the disir.

  Trav had no idea how they could have figured that out but decided not to ask. Instead, he thought about the implications and said, “So for her to go back to her family, I’d either need to go with her, or give her permission, and she is probably too proud to ask. Otherwise, she might lose her new power, maybe even her ability to change form.”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes widened at a new thought. “If she reverted back into her normal form while she was flying, and since she can’t truly fly as a harpy, that might be bad.”

  Narnaste chuckled. “See, Ysintrill? I told you he could be perceptive for a human.”

  When Trav said nothing in response, the three of them lapsed into silence for a while.

  ***

  After stopping for the day to make camp, Trav walked off into the forest a ways to practice with his new abilities. He’d done the same thing the previous day, so it hadn’t raised any eyebrows.

  Now that he was by himself, he decided first to spend time loading more rune magic into his shiv, a daily habit. While he did so, he also searched his memory for rune equations that would synergize well with his new abilities.

  He’d finally decided to name the shiv, “Hex.” It had seemed appropriate. The name seemed to fit the little ill-fated blade and simultaneously wasn’t too serious nor too goofy. Trav felt rather proud of himself for coming up with it, actually.

  Hex’s ability to memorize whatever Trav drew seemed limitless so far, so he continued to take advantage of it. Right now, he figured that the most useful rune workings for air scribing or ventrilomagic were magic traps. He could actually draw them in the air, use Hex to aim, and trigger them as soon as they materialized.

  He’d also been focused on adding more temporary enhancements to his arsenal. Hex had been loaded with a wide array of buffs, and with air scribing, he could even cast them on himself while running or dodging.

  After he was done scribing more runes and loading them into his shiv, he stood and breathed deeply. As usual, he held his spear. Nobody else was around, and he planned to use some flashy magic today.

  When he felt the time was right, Trav ran forward, throwing his spear as hard as he could at a tree. Even as the weapon left his hand, he willed Hex into his palm, then mentally triggered a rune equation to appear in midair. The shiv generated the circular magic device at the tip of the blade, and he activated it. The magic sparked, expanding into a hissing wall of wind to one side, a barrier against arrows.

  He jumped up as high as he could, much higher than a normal human could, planted his feet against a tree trunk, and launched himself back. While in midair, he pointed Hex at a different tree. “Lightning bolt!” With a flash, the magic pattern appeared and pulsed, generating a brilliant arc of electricity.

  The attack hit the target with a brilliant crack, splintering the bark and burning the trunk. Trav wasn’t watching the effects very closely, though. Instead, he pointed Hex at the ground he was about to land on. “Soften.” The complicated series of glyphs that he’d willed into existence flashed on the ground, and when he landed, it felt like he’d hit a giant pillow, not the hard earth.

  He scrambled up, positioned himself behind a tree, and pointed at the tree that his spear was still stuck in. “Explosion.” This target was at his max range for ventrilomagic, but he could still just about reach it. The rune equation, basically a bomb trap, scribed itself on the tree trunk in less than a second, and Trav triggered it, ducking behind cover.

  When the tree blew up, the world trembled. Trav was glad for the tree in front of him, especially if the spear had flown his direction, but apparently, it hadn’t. Dust, splinters, and fine pieces of bark rained down as Trav stepped from behind his shelter. The top of the tree that he’d destroyed fell to one side, but he ignored it, instead pointing Hex upward. “Searching mist. Spear.”

  A tendril of fog shot out of the ground, moving outward, and Trav ducked behind the tree again. He’d tried this magic before but wanted to test its flexibility. In less time than he’d expected, the fog tentacle deftly moved around his tree, offering him his spear from wherever it had been blown to.

  Trav didn’t even bother examining the weapon—it would take a lot more than an explosion to be damaged. Then he threw Hex as far as he could in one direction and jumped to the side, running toward another tree before executing a series of blocks and strikes that reminded him of his time on Earth. Some of the techniques he’d actually learned from his cousin, Ash.

  But then he transitioned to a more linear style of martial arts, one that Odin must have used. This style primarily used the blade of the spear and was very lethal.

  Pretending there was an attack to one side, Trav dodged, letting his momentum carry him into a roll. He threw his spear at a different tree where it deeply embedded itself, and held out a hand, calling Hex. He pointed into the empty air, imagining a group of enemies rushing toward him. In his mind, they looked like the Kin he’d fought with Narnaste.

  “Flamethrower.”

  Rune lines flashed, and a jet of flame rushed from the tip of Trav’s dagger, forming a cone of fiery destruction that he maintained for several seconds. Finally, he halted the controlled inferno, sheathed Hex, and sighed.

  Trav rolled his neck and took a minute to stretch before walking to his spear and pulling it out of the tree. Then he turned toward camp, beginning to head back. He figured he’d run into at least one of his Valkyries any second now, alerted by the explosion, searching for him. They’d promised earlier that they wouldn’t bother him while he trained, but he still wouldn’t be upset when they inevitably showed up.

  The longer he was free on Asgard, the more he valued companions to watch his back, even if they did so out of self-interest.

  As he walked, Trav’s eyes lingered on the demolished tree trunk he’d blown up, and the top of the tree sagging against nearby supporting branches. He’d just used up a lot of power in mere seconds but felt deep pride, a sense of accomplishment. If he were to run into a group of Dacith again, they’d be fucked.

  He’
d come a long way.

  ***

  That night, Trav retired to his room made of mud that he’d fashioned with magic. His magic recovery ability had really proven useful. Rest was fastest, but he didn’t actually need to sleep anymore to regain his mystic reserves.

  Earlier, he’d built an oven out of earth, and his little group had enjoyed some deer meat that Narnaste had caught, then cooked.

  Trav’s bedroll was looking awfully inviting, and he began getting ready for bed when Ysintrill hesitantly entered his shelter.

  He didn’t let his surprise show. “Hello, Ysintrill. How can I help you?”

  “I was told that you understand the arrangement. Uh, I’m here to—stay with you. Also, if you’d like, you can call me Trill. That’s what my friends called me. Well, before.”

  Trav regarded the disir woman levelly for a moment, openly studying her. She had flawless almond-colored skin and long, pointed ears that stuck out almost sideways. Her full lips were just a touch too low on her face, giving her a pouty expression, even while her face was at rest. Her straight nose supported big eyes with naturally long lashes. She was tall for a woman, at least by Trav’s standards, probably standing five feet ten inches tall. Her body was lithe and muscular, like a soccer player.

  He wasn’t sure where she’d gotten her plain outfit from. When she’d been regenerated, freed from the box, she hadn’t been wearing a scrap of clothing. Trav’s memories from that time were still a little hazy, but he definitely remembered that. He also knew that she had pale areolas, and her breasts—

  With a shake of his head, he focused back on the woman’s—Kin’s—face. Ysintrill was dangerous, at least to his emotional wellbeing. She definitely wasn’t human, but he still wasn’t sure if she was Kin. He decided to solve the mystery right now.

  “Okay, Trill, could you answer a question for me?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you Kin?”

  The beautiful woman cocked her head and blinked at him. “I haven’t really thought of it before, but no, I suppose I’m not. I was, am disir, technically a type of spirit.”