Asgard Awakening Page 13

  He had a hunch what they could be, and Odin’s memories confirmed his suspicions. Witchcraft fetishes, he thought. A few steps into the mine, two skulls stood on sticks, decorated with woven bones underneath, like shawls. Lines of symbols, similar to runes but not the same, spiraled up the wood of both totems, glowing with an otherworldly light.

  Wards.

  Trav almost turned back. This was more than he’d bargained for in this little human village in the middle of nowhere. He was brand new to his power, surrounded, and hadn’t even had his freedom for a full week. But as he turned, he felt the strange pulling sensation, even stronger now that he was closer. Something was ahead, something important, and he knew he’d never be able to find any new power without taking risks.

  His goals were too difficult, too huge to back away from challenges. Before accepting Odin’s mantle, he’d just wanted to get revenge for Beth’s murder, but the reality was that he probably would have just died trying. Now he had a real chance to bring justice to a world of chaos. And maybe it was Odin’s influence or his own renewed relationship with freedom, but he had been starting to ponder what his new status actually meant. Maybe if he couldn’t bring peace to Asgard, he could give it one hell of a war.

  Someone had to rule, why not him?

  But that line of thinking was all pointless if he was not willing to brave danger, especially on a world like Asgard. Trav nervously scratched his beard for a minute and even briefly glanced at the door behind him before slightly nodding. He’d made up his mind.

  With careful steps, he walked forward until he was directly in front of the wards. His emberstone eye allowed him to see the patterns of magic, and even moving trails of energy across the tunnel. Trav didn’t know much about witchcraft, but Odin had—the half-remembered knowledge felt somewhat old, though. Trav drew his soul-bound shiv and severed a few lines of magic across the empty air in front of him. The careful cuts didn’t collapse the entire web, but now he could walk past without triggering whatever traps or alarms the wards had created.

  Trav continued down the tunnel and encountered a couple more ward barriers. His nervousness grew as he continued, but so did the tugging from whatever was down here, continuing to pull him along.

  After descending for some time, Trav climbed stairs cut in the solid stone and found himself at an entrance to a side tunnel. The homing sensation pulled him down the main tunnel instead, so after one quick glance to the side, he continued on. A ways farther, and he discovered a couple other side tunnels. Just how big is this place? he wondered. The village outside hadn’t seemed all that large.

  His first clue to the true nature of the tunnel complex came when he noticed a bit of dust by the wall, far too thick to have happened naturally with regular foot traffic. With that, he reasoned that the tunnels might have existed before the village had, or maybe the village had even been built after the tunnels had been discovered. He didn’t have much to base this assumption on, but it felt right in his gut.

  Finally, he came to a portion of the tunnel that began to grow wider. More unnatural witchcraft lamps began filling the walls, creating criss-crossing shadows. A new room had an altar at one side, made of dark stone. The altar had rivulets of fresh-looking dried blood at the base. Two side doors stood open, and Trav caught a glimmer through one.

  “What the,” he muttered, and barely caught the slight sound of scuffing on the stone behind him. He began to turn, but something crashed into his head.

  Trav saw stars, and the world went black.

  Chapter 16

  The next thing Trav knew, he was bound, being carried through a tunnel he hadn’t been through before. His head hurt like hell, and it took his eyes a few minutes to focus. Something must have rung his bell pretty badly. He had a feeling that if he’d still been a normal man, he would have been out for longer, if not dead.

  Knocking someone out wasn’t easy in reality, unlike the movies. Something had hit him really, really hard. When he slowly turned, trying to disguise his movements, he was able to see who.

  A short, powerfully built man with a long beard and a bald head strode forward with an air of authority. His dark robes were embroidered with white, mystic symbols, and he carried a staff with deep carving and decorations. A heavy chain woven with bones, hair, and sinew hung around his neck.

  The man was probably a witch since he wore fetishes similar to the ones on the cave walls, but Trav activated his emberstone eye just to be sure. As soon as his mystical sight was in effect, he closed his good eye, hoping that nobody had seen him wake up. As usual, he could see just fine right through his eyepatch with the arcane prosthetic.

  The first thing he verified was the robed man was indeed a male witch, a warlock. Trav was no expert, but based on what the emberstone was telling him, the man was powerful. A few villagers walked with the warlock, and Trav recognized a couple of them. Their veneer of happiness and friendliness had vanished, and now he mostly saw naked fear or greed.

  Lovely.

  “Let us hurry,” ordered the warlock, his voice high, reedy. “We must dispose of this one.”

  One of the men from town argued, “But, Your Holiness, we took all his weapons away. He is just a man.”

  The warlock shook his head. “Something about this man makes the air move. The spirits are restless. We must dispose of him.”

  A voice that Trav recognized spoke—one of the men who’d been guarding the village gate. “Why don’t we just kill him then?” After the question was voiced, Trav mentally nodded. He was glad to be alive but had been wondering the same thing.

  “That is one option, but it would be a waste,” said their leader. “The sacrifice needs to eat. Our ceremony is not for another couple days.”

  “Wouldn’t a goat or a pig work for that?”

  “No. It will be a more powerful sacrifice if it has as much power as possible, and it will get more of it if we offer it a man.” Trav could hear the smile in the warlock’s voice.

  The answer seemed to satisfy the others, because they walked in silence after that, clip-clopping on the solid stone floor. Trav tried to test his bonds without giving away that he was awake but quickly gave up. He was surrounded, and the warlock made him wary. It would probably be smarter to wait until this little group of psychos took him wherever they were going before he made a move. Otherwise, if they knocked him out again, he might be fed to whatever they’d been talking about while being unconscious. That would be bad.

  He knew they’d reached their destination when he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cool air of the tunnels. A powerful magical barrier made his skin crawl, so potent that even without being targeted by it, it still made his cells feel like they wanted to come apart. Unless the villagers all had superhuman endurance, the field hadn’t seemed to affect them as they carried Trav like a rag doll.

  The moment he had passed through the powerful wall of magic, Trav’s emberstone eye seemed to get heavy static, making it hard to see. It’d never done that before.

  Trav was carried forward another ten yards or so, and a door opened on squeaky hinges. A low growl, like one from an animal, buzzed from wherever the warlock was taking him. Interference in his emberstone eye made it hard to see, but the door seemed to be set at the end of the tunnel.

  Then Trav was tossed forward like a rag doll. As he passed through the door, he felt another barrier, somehow even stronger than the first one as it crawled over his skin. He landed on the stone floor in a heap—somehow holding in a pained grunt and landing like he was still unconscious—and felt the magical wall snap shut behind him, becoming an invisible prison that was stronger than steel.

  The door slammed shut behind him, meaning he could stop pretending to be out cold. He rolled over, and even through the thick wood, he heard one of the villagers chuckle darkly. Trav thought fast and summoned his shiv into his hand. The strange magical barriers were so strong they practically made his teeth buzz, but luckily they didn’t seem to affect his soul-boun
d connection. The moment his weapon was in hand, Trav sawed at the rope binding on his wrists and kept constant pressure on his arms. The rope snapped before it’d been fully cut.

  He rolled to his feet and opened his good eye, helping his fuzzy emberstone eye to take in the dimly lit room, a row of glowing fungus near the ceiling. A creature was almost on top of him, its eyes wild.

  Trav growled and held his shiv out in a menacing way before chambering the weapon at his hip to use defensively. The approaching monster got the hint and stopped. After it came to a halt, Trav realized that it was a she and Kin.

  In the dim light, Trav couldn’t make out too many details, but what he did see made him pause. She was half-naked, wearing small but luxurious clothing with elaborate needlework that looked easy to move in, sort of like a belly dancer. Her inhuman legs ended in talons, and her fingers had large claws. Feathers covered her arms, and a small crest of feathers on her head framed her inhuman face. High cheekbones gave her fierce eyes an upward slant.

  The Kin growled deep in her chest, her sharp teeth on display, and Trav got the uncomfortable feeling that he was being sized up like a piece of meat. She swayed back and forth for a while, and Trav began to relax, hoping the dagger would hold her off. Then she suddenly sprang forward, attacking. Her first swipe was lightning-fast, and Trav barely evaded it. If he’d been a normal man, it might have taken his hand off at the wrist. The room was small, but he darted back, cursing.

  With a curious, bird-like hop, the Kin woman panted and moved forward, heat in her eyes. Trav dodged a grab and slashed with his shiv, but the Kin woman was fast, avoiding the attack and backhanding his arm out of the way. The force of the blow knocked the blade out of Trav’s hand, and it skittered to the other side of the room.

  Then she was all over him. Trav knew he was going to die as he was tackled to the ground, both of his arms being held over his head in one powerful, clawed hand. The Kin was strong, stronger than Narnaste. He fought, refusing to give up, wincing as he imagined getting his throat torn out. Chin down to protect his neck, Trav kept struggling, warily watching the Kin’s other hand. Her claws flashed for his stomach, and Trav managed to free one hand to grab her wrist, holding her natural weapons away from his vulnerable middle.

  He strained with all of his enhanced strength, but it wasn’t enough. The hand inched closer. Trav tried to headbutt her in the face, but when she dodged back, she used both their motion to force her hand to his stomach—and began unbuckling his belt.

  Trav blinked as the Kin woman fumbled at his waist for a few seconds, growling. Her growls changed, sounding frustrated, and one claw slipped down, ready to tear at his clothes. The cobwebs filling Trav’s mind finally faded and he was able to think clearly, intuiting the situation. He was in great danger, but he might still be able to save himself.

  When he dropped his hand to start undoing his own clothing, the feathered Kin woman panted with need. Trav moved his head forward, and she hissed, so he leaned back, trying not to flinch. His pants came off, and when she moved forward again, he managed to kiss the side of her neck. She didn’t snap at him or bite, and only focused on his shirt. Trav mentally breathed a sigh of relief, painfully aware now that she was stronger than him and covered with weapons.

  Playing along was probably currently saving his life. Actually, he was sure of it—half-remembered, borrowed memories confirmed his hunch. He would still die if he couldn’t save himself, though—and he didn’t have much time.

  His clothes off, Trav tried to ignore what the Kin woman was doing, which was easier said than done. He stared at the ceiling and tried to move his arms. His plan hinged on sneakiness. While he kept his mind somewhere else other than what was happening to him, waiting for a chance to act, he examined the room he was in.

  When his emberstone eye gradually became less scrambled, he realized the truth of his situation. The magic barrier at the door was incredibly strong, and the entire room was lined with its energy. He guessed that the spell walls had been placed long ago—they had the feel of ancient magic.

  In his current state, even if he killed the attacking Kin woman, he would not be able to escape. He didn’t need to try consulting with Odin’s memories to figure out this would be bad. No, his escape plan would need to be altered.

  On top of him, the Kin woman writhed and bit his shoulder. Trav winced but remained focused. The situation was dire and distressing, but Trav was tough, and surviving in the mines hadn’t broken him—it’d just made him stronger...and more ruthless.

  Finally, a minute or two later, a chance presented itself. The feathered Kin, a harpy, was completely absorbed in what she was doing, which meant Trav could call the shiv into his hand again without it being seen. He was tempted to plant the weapon into her back, even as she used his body, but he couldn’t do that, at least not yet. He wouldn’t exactly feel bad for her if things worked out in his favor, though.

  The things the harpy was doing were getting more difficult to ignore and were already fuzzing Trav’s muddled mind. He quickly used the shiv’s memorization function, instantly scribing a number of glyph equations on the stony floor. Then he burned a very specific sigil underneath each of them.

  The harpy still hadn’t noticed what he was doing, which was good. He needed to work fast. She would be sure to kill him after she was done with her carnal attack, and probably if she found out what he was doing. This next part would be tricky.

  Feigning enthusiasm, Trav dragged his nails down the harpy’s back to disguise any other pains, and before she pushed him back down, he managed to touch the tip of his shiv to her skin, burning a glyph there. The glyph equations he’d placed on the floor would work without it, but now they’d be fully locked on.

  Then everything was ready, and just in time. The Kin woman’s eyes suddenly narrowed, even through her mania, and she turned her head. Trav kicked out with all his might, rolling away and the harpy hissed, probably seeing his shiv. She was probably wondering how he’d gotten ahold of it again, and the split second of hesitation let Trav get far enough away to activate the glyph equations.

  Magic surged out of Trav, supplemented by the meager energy of the stone in the floor. Luckily, the room’s barrier didn’t interfere.

  The moss in the ceiling writhed, snapping down and shooting across the walls, instantly growing to reach the Kin woman. Glowing vegetation, strengthened with magic, wrapped around the harpy’s wrists and ankles, then began forcing her down.

  Trav cautiously backed up while in a crouch, watching as the harpy was fully bound. The moss manacles held her fingers back and her arms to the ground so she couldn’t use her natural weapons to break free. Her talons scraped on the floor, but she was helpless, pinned. She writhed, her naked, feathered body straining against her bonds.

  After slowly standing, Trav reversed his shiv, holding it against his wrist, and dropped into a squat. He watched his captive and spat a bit of blood out of his mouth, touching his swollen lip. “My, how the tables have turned,” he said, voice dark.

  The Kin woman froze, and turned her head, eyes clearing. She breathed heavily and showed her sharp teeth. Just to be safe, Trav drew a few more glyph equations with his shiv in case the harpy’s bonds broke, then he examined his new jail cell more carefully.

  After a few minutes, he shook his head. The situation was grim, but he was still fairly confident of his plan. His issue now was moral, pondering where his ended and Odin’s lack began. This was further complicated by wondering how many of his own were left after years of slavery.

  Trav narrowed his eyes at the helpless harpy and rested his chin on one palm, studying her. At first, she looked away, but then she turned to meet his gaze, staring directly into his eyes. “What are you going to do with me?” she asked. Her voice sounded surprisingly cultured.

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. We both know that I should probably just kill you right now, but that would probably be bad for both of us. We need to talk.”

  Cha
pter 17

  “What is your name?” asked Trav.

  The trapped harpy wet her lips and stared before lunging forward...or tried to. The moss restraints held, and she growled in frustration before going limp. “This is not a good time.” She flexed her claws as best she could, trying to reach the magic restraints that held her immobile.

  “Tell me about it.” Trav didn’t bother trying to hide his sarcasm.

  “Don’t come any closer right now,” she snarled. “Unless you want to be ripped apart, human.”

  “You don’t worry about that. I’m not a fan of how we met.”

  The ferocious captive seemed to deflate a bit and hunched down. If Trav hadn’t known better, he’d think she was embarrassed. “Yes, well…” She blew out a breath and shrugged. “You may not believe me, but I am not exactly in complete control of myself right now. You are a human man, so I doubt you will understand, but I am being starved, and my...sense is being overtaken.”

  Trav folded his arms and made a face, wondering if he might “know” anything about the Kin woman through his new memories. “You are a harpy?”

  “Yes. A plains harpy.”

  That got Trav’s attention, and he slowly nodded, information from his benefactor flooding his mind, like something he’d always known but had just forgotten. He asked, “How many kinds of harpies are there?”

  “Plains, forests, coastal, and swamp. The plains harpies—”

  “Pride themselves on knowledge and control,” interrupted Trav, nodding. He suddenly knew about harpies. And the way this one was talking to him, strange situation notwithstanding, was very different to how Kin had acted when he’d been a slave. He wondered if the rune magic he’d demonstrated had something to do with it. ...Or maybe, it was just because Trav currently had the upper hand. The cynical thought twisted his lips.