Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  I shrugged and suppressed a sigh. “They know more about this place than I do. Who else should I listen to?”

  She tossed her head. “A fair point, but they don’t know everything.” She ran a hand down her side. “I’m dressed this way because this is a mission of stealth. At night. I can hardly expect to go unnoticed if I flip around in white, can I?”

  “What is it you want?” Keri and Fretyi couldn’t be distracted from Kuhntul. Their eyes stuck to her as if she was a dangerous predator. Maybe she was.

  “Why must I want something?”

  “Because you’re here. Again.”

  “I come as an advisor—an interested, but unattached advisor. I have nothing to gain, so my advice is clean, unfettered by personal desires.” She arched her eyebrow at me. “Can your companions say the same? Any of them?”

  “It’s true that these Isir have an agenda, but that agenda coincides with my own.”

  “Does it, Tyeldnir?” She shifted her weight forward, and the two pups added a ragged note to their growls. Kuhntul glanced down at them and made a face. “Send these creatures away.”

  “I don’t think they would go, even if I was willing to send them, which I’m not.”

  “The Tisir are above such low forms of life.”

  I chuckled. “Was that a pun?”

  She looked at me, the skin between her eyebrows wrinkled. “Do you mock me?”

  “No. You’re floating in midair, and these two are a foot or so high. Above these low forms of life, indeed.”

  She eyed the varkr pups and drifted a few steps farther away. “The time of your betrayal approaches, Tyeldnir.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” I snapped. “My name is Hank.”

  “Will you go to the executioner’s block arguing about trivialities, or will you listen to my counsel?”

  “What I will listen to are facts. No more riddles. If you have something to say, say it plain.”

  Kuhntul sighed and shrugged. “You demand plainness, here is plainness. You will be betrayed in your quest for control of the preer. The person who betrays you will be one of your party and the betrayal will come at a high cost.”

  “Tell me who the betrayer is.”

  “I can’t—I do not know who it is. The Sisters refuse to disclose that. If someone in your party practices saytr or has the syown—‍”

  “Wait. I know what syown is, but what is saytr?”

  “The word means ‘string magic,’ but here it refers to string magic of prophecy.”

  “You know Frikka and Freya are members of my party. You know they practice prophecy.”

  She gazed at me, waiting.

  “Now that we’ve established there are members of my party with the syown or who practice this saytr, what about it?”

  “As I was saying, a saytr practitioner could cast an augury that could tell you the betrayer’s name. Or someone with the syown might see it. You could kill the betrayer—‍”

  “No.”

  “Come, now, Tyeldnir. You have killed men.”

  “Yes, in battle…when I have had no other choice. But killing in cold blood? An execution? No, that’s not me.”

  She squinted at me for the space of three breaths and shook her head. “Such hollow distinctions, Tyeldnir.”

  “I won’t murder anyone, saytr or syown notwithstanding.”

  She sucked in a breath, though I doubted she needed to do anything as pedestrian as breathing, and blew it out her nose. “At the very least, you could expel the person from the party—‍”

  “Is that your goal with all this? To split us up?”

  “Tyeldnir, I’ve already said why I am here. Why can’t you—‍”

  “And yet all you advise me to do involves killing a member of the party or sending someone away. That weakens us. Together, we are strong, and we’ve faced down the worst the Dark Queen has to offer. We—‍”

  Kuhntul laughed, her cackle echoing down the road like the cries of carrion birds. “You’ve hardly seen the worst the Black Bitch can bring to bear. Haven’t you been listening to the stories of your companions?”

  Keri spun around and growled at something lost in the darkness behind me. “What is it, boy?”

  “Nothing to fear,” muttered Kuhntul. “It’s your pet Tverkr.”

  Althyof stepped out onto the road, a dagger in either hand. He was chanting something too low for me to catch, his eyes welded on Kuhntul. I felt the heavy presence of the strenkir af krafti singing in the air, wrapping around me and the two pups.

  “Oh, please, Althyof,” said Kuhntul with a forbearing sigh. “You know your triblinkr can’t stop me if my desire was to harm him. Why bother with this farce?”

  Althyof finished his chant and stepped across the road. “So you keep telling me, woman, and yet my paltry abilities seem to keep working.”

  “I have no wish to hurt Tyeldnir,” she said. “Nor his…animals. I guess your mastery of the strenkir af krafti will continue to be unchallenged by me. What is it you want here, Althyof?”

  “Want? I want nothing, unlike you. Hank is an honorable man, who doesn’t deserve the rank manipulation of your kind.”

  Kuhntul shook her head and gazed up at the stars. “What would I gain from such manipulation? Why would I invest such time? Why wouldn’t I take whatever it is I wanted? None of you could stop me.”

  “Your mastery of the strenkir af krafti remains untested, woman. I beg you to try.”

  “Enough,” I said. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  Kuhntul arched her eyebrow at Althyof. “No.”

  “Do you have more to say?”

  She shook her head. “You’ve listened to my counsel. Act on it sooner rather than later.”

  A phrase uttered by an uncountable number of lawyers back home came to mind, and it was perfect. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “Somehow I think that means you will ignore my advice.”

  Althyof chuckled. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “What must I do, Tyeldnir? What must I do to prove myself?”

  “Well, to start, you can stop calling me that.”

  “And you can go back in time and stop yourself from manipulating the Tverkar into fighting in the war,” said Althyof.

  She laughed, but no amusement reached her eyes. She snapped her fingers and disappeared without even a pop.

  “You two really don’t get along,” I said, feeling the weight of my illness like a mantle of stone.

  “No, she’s a duplicitous, double-dealing, deceitful, duplicitous—‍”

  “You said that one already.”

  “Well, she’s doubly duplicitous then.” He glanced down at my hips. “You shouldn’t be roaming around without your weapons, Hank. There are dangers here.”

  I shrugged. “A varkr already attacked me tonight. I figured my dance-card was full.”

  “I don’t get that reference, but trust me, Hank, you are never safe here. Not until the Dragon Queen has been dealt with.”

  “Yeah, I don’t need the reminder.”

  He pointed at my hips with one of his daggers. “Seems you do.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll be more careful.” I picked up another pair of sticks and threw them. Keri and Fretyi watched them fly, and as soon as the sticks hit the ground, they pounced on my ankles, one to a leg.

  Althyof grinned, watching the pups worry at my feet. “You have the luck of an Alf, Hank.” He looked up at me, and his face grew serious. “But that won’t be enough to save you.” He glanced away, shaking his head. “No, not enough. Tomorrow, ride by my side. I will begin to teach you the ways of the runeskowld.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You told my son that no Isir had ever learned—‍”

  “No, I said no Isir had ever mastered it. You may not either, though by my judgment you are the best of them.” He glanced at my expression and laughed. “Relax, Hank. That isn’t saying much.” He squatted and stroked Frety
i’s rump. The pup spun to face him, growling, and snapping. “Oh, he’s a fierce one, isn’t he?”

  “I guess so.”

  Althyof stood up and glared at me. “Now, if you’re done raising such a ruckus that no sane Tverkr could sleep, I’ll go back to bed!” He whirled and stomped off, but not before I saw the twinkle of amusement in his eye. Fretyi stood, still as carved stone, and watched him, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

  “Don’t worry, pup-pup. He’s not as cantankerous as he pretends to be. I trust him, and so can you.” Althyof paused a moment, the flap to the tent he shared with the Alfar held open, but he didn’t glance over. I had the impression that every word I said had carried to his ears. “But he is as ugly as a stump.” Althyof chuckled and ducked inside, letting the tent flap fall closed behind him.

  “You were never in danger, Hank,” said Skowvithr’s disembodied voice. “I was with you all along. Kuhntul would not brush aside my abilities as she thinks she could the Tverkr’s.”

  “What, are you and Yowtgayrr standing watches now?” I asked the empty air, but there was no answer. Of course they were standing watches. I should have guessed they would be after the first meeting with Kuhntul. I picked up a stick and threw at the space the voice had come from. The puppies watched it arc through the air unobstructed, glanced at one another, and then attacked my feet. “Some watchdogs you two are turning out to be. We’ll have to work on your situational awareness.” Keri looked up at me and yipped before going back to trying to kill me from the ankles up.

  The puppies weren’t interested in going back to sleep, so I played with them until the sun cracked the horizon and announced the coming day. As if they had alarm clocks, Lottfowpnir’s thralls awoke and climbed out of their tents, joking and teasing one another until they saw me and pulled on their professional faces. They set about getting the caravan ready to depart, feeding and caring for the horses, packing up supplies that wouldn’t be needed during breakfast, and settling bundles in the carts, since we would ride our own horses that day.

  Some were curious about the varkr puppies, others feared them. None of them wanted to approach, whether it was because of the wild puppies or because of me, I couldn’t tell. They kept their heads down and worked.

  Veethar was the first of the party to exit his tent, and he walked straight over and crouched beside me, holding out his hand. He uttered a low whistle, and Fretyi cocked his head and trotted over. Keri was still more cautious around others, but Fretyi seemed to have gotten over his natural wariness—at least of Veethar. The pup sprawled at his feet and rolled over for a belly rub, which Veethar seemed delighted to give. “They are in good health,” he said.

  “They should be after the amount of meat they wolfed down.”

  A small grin stretched Veethar’s lips. “Wait a month or two.”

  “Have you had varkr before?”

  He shook his head.

  “Kuhntul dropped by again last night.”

  Moving slowly, Veethar turned his gaze to mine. He quirked his eyebrow, which, given I was speaking to Veethar, was like someone jumping up and screaming: “What?” I shrugged. “Same old thing. She wants me to get Frikka, Freya, or Yowrnsaxa to identify the betrayer. She thinks I should kill him. Or maybe her.” I glanced at the tent Freya and Pratyi shared. “Althyof came out to play, though, and scared Kuhntul away.”

  Veethar nodded, eyes pensive, lips taut.

  “What do you think about all this? Meuhlnir implied you were the expert on the Tisir.”

  Veethar shifted his weight and stared down at Fretyi, scratching the puppy’s belly while Fretyi preened and rolled around. He made a non-committal sound.

  “Do you think she’s out to help us or drive us apart?”

  Veethar rolled his shoulders. “You shouldn’t worry about Freya.”

  “No? I got the feeling you and Meuhlnir don’t trust her.”

  Veethar glanced at me, his pale blue eyes almost glowing with the intensity of his feelings. “You misunderstood.”

  “Okay,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t know the story, but I’ll take your word for it. I have no reason to mistrust anyone in this camp.”

  Veethar nodded and patted Fretyi’s tummy. “Good pup,” he crooned. He stood with an economy of movement that I envied and turned away, walking over to the horses.

  “Good talk,” I muttered.

  Sixteen

  After everyone had performed their morning rituals, and we’d all eaten, the thralls hitched the cart horses to the wagons, and we saddled our mounts. Getting into the saddle was an adventure after the long night with too little sleep, but with Sif’s ointment burning away on my skin, it was manageable.

  The pups didn’t approve of me being up there on Slaypnir, and by his twitching ears, Slaypnir didn’t care much for the puppies yipping and whining around his hooves. “Sig, hand Fretyi up to me.” I twitched my saddlebags around to the front and flipped one of them open.

  “Uh… I don’t think he wants me to.”

  “It’s okay, Son, be calm and let him sniff your hand before you pick him up.”

  Sig followed my instructions, and not only did Fretyi sniff his hand, but he also gave him a lick and wagged his tail. Sig picked up the pup with a grunt. “Heavier than I figured he’d be.” He held the pup up to his cheek and giggled like a boy five years younger when Fretyi licked his cheek and nuzzled him.

  I took Fretyi when Sig handed him up and slid him butt-first into my saddlebag. “Now, do the same thing with Keri. He’s a little more skittish, so don’t make any sudden moves.”

  “Can Keri ride with me?” Sig asked.

  “No, not today, Son,” I said. “I have to balance the weight of the bottomless pit here.” I scrubbed Fretyi behind the ears.

  Sig got Keri in his arms after a bit of convincing and held him up to me. I put Keri in the other saddlebag, and Slaypnir turned back to scowl at me. I never knew horses could scowl, but Slaypnir left no doubt about it. I patted his neck to placate him. It was turning into a full-time job keeping all these animals happy.

  Althyof walked his horse over. “Remember our discussion,” he grumbled.

  “I do.”

  “Hold back a little. What I have to teach is not for everyone.”

  I nodded, and we sat while the caravan rumbled out onto the stone roadway. Sig wanted to hang back, but I sent him ahead to tell Mothi a joke. After everyone else had left, it was Althyof, myself, and the Alfar.

  Althyof scowled at them. “What I have to say to Hank is not for your ears.”

  Yowtgayrr looked at him and yawned as if bored by the Tverkr’s words. “Where Hank goes, we go.”

  “Ride behind us and smell my farts, in that case. You can watch over him from there,” snapped Althyof. He glanced at me and twitched his reins, and I did the same. Yowtgayrr and Skowvithr stayed a respectable distance behind us, but their eyes lingered on me all morning.

  “I’m going to teach you the ways of the runeskowld. It won’t be easy. It may be the hardest thing you’ve ever done—the most taxing mentally and physically. Are you ready? Will you commit yourself to the task?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Because if you don’t or can’t, there is every chance you will do yourself, or worse yet, me, significant harm. There are good reasons we don’t teach this art to other races except in atypical situations.”

  “Have you ever taught anyone before me?”

  “Tverkar, yes. Isir, no.”

  “But you are confident you can do it?”

  “Of course,” he snapped. “I’m the master here, Hank.”

  “No offense meant,” I said.

  He made a face and grumbled into his beard for a few steps of our mounts. “The Art isn’t as simple as muttering words in an ancient tongue and concentrating on what you want to happen. Every Isir can do that, after all.”

  “Okay.”

  “Some think it’s as easy as singing a tune, dancing a few steps, and what you want to happen
, happens. It’s not that easy.”

  “What in the history of time ever is?”

  “Before we start the first exercise, ask whatever questions you may have.”

  I scratched my goatee. “What’s the difference between what you do as a runeskowld and as an enchanter?”

  “The medium. When I’m enchanting, I sing a trowba, and I inscribe the runes into the thing I’m enchanting. The runes bind the trowba to the item.”

  “I wondered about that.”

  Althyof glanced at me. “Well, now you know. Anything else?”

  “Why are you called a runeskowld instead of something else? It doesn’t seem you use runes except when you are enchanting.”

  “Ah, very preceptive…” He smiled at me. “…for a block of wood. Runes are also used in trowba, triblinkr, and lausaveesa.”

  “But how can that be? You never write anything.”

  “Runes are not just marks on paper, Hank. I am in my most powerful state when I’m singing a trowba and accompanying it with a dance. Have you not noticed this?”

  “I have, but I wondered if maybe it was a way to keep the rhythm.”

  Althyof smiled the way an indulgent parent smiles at a precocious child. “Well, it does help with that, especially in situations where your mind must do multiple things at once—‍”

  “Multitasking,” I grunted.

  Althyof laughed. “Multitasking. I like that. Yes, the dance helps when you must multitask—singing the trowba, stayba runana, and fighting a dragon.”

  “Stayba what now?”

  “Stayba runana—it means ‘casting the runes.’”

  “Well, that clears it up…”

  “Don’t be a smartass, Hank. Stayba runana is how we refer to using the runes without writing them down. It’s the process of focusing on the rune or runes you need in your mind and casting them out into the world where their power can manifest.”

  “Wait a minute. You sing, dance, fight dragons, and imagine runes floating around you?”

  “Yes.” Althyof smirked. “Now you see why only Tverkar have mastered the art.” He tapped his temple. “One must be gifted with a large mind that can run down multiple paths at once.”