Asgard Awakening Page 21

  “I know that.” Trav gestured with his hand. “Doesn’t that make you Kin, though?”

  “No. Kin doesn’t mean ‘not human,’ it’s the term for people who have come from other worlds, veils that are compatible enough with Asgard that they could maintain their power.”

  “Huh?”

  “You know how veils work, right?”

  “I think so but remind me.”

  Now that she was assuming a lecturing stance, the tall, impressive woman lost much of her earlier uncertainty. “Most of the time, traveling between veils will sap a being’s power the longer they are in a new world. The more powerful the traveler, the faster they lose their power. In fact, Narnaste told me that you witnessed an attack before you escaped slavery, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those attacking, the humans, were probably from a different veil. They were also probably not very powerful for their kind. A truly powerful fighter will lose most of their abilities or magic the instant they transition. The only exception I know of is the gods.”

  Trav had grasped most of that, but now it made a lot more sense. “And the Kin?”

  “Most of them were refugees from other veils, at least I think so. The first of them had begun forming settlements before I died.” She paused for a moment, cleared her throat, and said, “Travelers from other worlds who were not compatible with Asgard moved on, or usually just died. There might be exceptions, or beings that didn’t have any other power of note. Maybe the Dacith that you hate so much are an example of this scenario.”

  Trav nodded. He’d let slip the last few days how much he loathed the rat-like Kin.

  Ysintrill paced a little. “Meanwhile, the majority of the Kin we see on Asgard now were able to retain most if not all of their power—Asgard must be similar enough to their homeworld that they didn’t lose anything. At least, this is what the sages believed during my lifetime.”

  “So about that, you are dead, right?” Trav asked, and after summoning Hex, pointed it at the ground. He conjured a simple, flexible, and extremely convenient rune equation into existence, and willed a couple chairs to rise out of the earth.

  Ysintrill nodded her thanks and sat down. “Not exactly. I was about to die, and one of Odin’s Valkyries chose me, but because of my situation, I was denied Valhalla. As a sort of consolation, she used something to turn me into what I am now.”

  “Your situation?”

  “Yes. Like I told you before, I am a woman not of this world. I was transported here...like I heard you were, actually.”

  Trav nodded. He wasn’t surprised that the Valkyries had been talking about him amongst themselves. Now that his memory had been jogged, he remembered what Ysintrill had said earlier too. “Okay, yeah. So you transformed from an adventurer or mercenary to a...spirit. Why didn’t you go back to your old life?”

  “Times were different then than now. This was a human world then, and non-humans were not welcomed. Plus, I’d already lost everything. My family, my friends, my fiancé, they were all dead. I knew that I would have a long life, and I didn’t want to ever go through that again, so I wandered.

  “If I had one regret about all of this, it is just—” She trailed off, looking down.

  Trav found her change in personality amazing. Just a moment before, he’d seen the strong, powerful, confident warrior she must have been in the past, but then she’d faded like a snuffed candle. “That box really fucked you up, didn’t it?”

  “Yes. Yes, it did.”

  Trav felt a sudden rush of pity. “What is your regret?”

  “Honestly?” She looked up through long lashes and sighed. “I want my bow back.”

  “Your bow?” Trav blinked. That had not been what he’d been expecting her to say.

  “Yes. After I was turned into what I am now, I journeyed far before settling down in my old grove. I found a bow at one point—dwarven make. The truth is that I am a terrible aim with a bow, but I prefer one for hunting and for combat. This one made it practically impossible to miss. I really loved it.

  “When I was in there,” she hissed, “the box, someone liked to taunt me sometimes. They said my bow had been sold to someone in the south, in a city called Vrasthath.”

  “I understand.” Trav pursed his lips. “Well, I don’t know where we are all going to go, but you basically work for me now. A good leader doesn’t ignore his people. If we journey near this Vrasthath, or we can go there without jeopardizing something else we are doing, and if we are realistically able to do so, maybe I can help you get your bow back.” He amended, “If it still exists.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  “Of course. You fight for me now, more or less. Getting you the best tools available, and raising morale, all in one move? It’s really obvious. Not only that, the way you were in that box...it was wrong.” Trav felt the same pity from before, but also some respect. If he’d been imprisoned in a box, not being able to see, having nobody to talk to, only hearing dark cultists talk about sacrifices or whatever it is they did, would he have stayed sane?

  The thought was so horrible, Trav said what was on his mind with no filter. “Whoever put you in there is a sick fuck, and I would help you kill them too. There are fates worse than death. I am glad we saved you from the tunnels collapsing. That would be—”

  He was suddenly hit by flying feminine curves, a solid kiss placed on his mouth. Oh yeah, she probably came here in the first place to spend the night. He immediately regretted his snarky mental tone, though. Trill’s emotions had been laid bare the moment she launched herself into his arms, and he couldn’t deny what he’d seen. He could understand her feelings, too.

  Trav knew what she wanted from him, and so he decided to give it to her. She’d earned his regard. Part of him whispered that he was biting off more than he could chew, even as he began undressing the elven-looking Valkyrie. But he was a god now, though not a very good one yet.

  Ysintrill was his Valkyrie. She was interesting, beautiful, and Trav was tired of being hunted by bestial girls every night in his bedroll. This would be a welcome break from that. Yes, Trill may not be human, but he understood her, and at least she wasn’t Kin.

  That night, Trav comforted a hurting, broken woman who’d lost everything, and had almost lost her soul. With his newfound perspective, he felt truly lucky for the first time since he’d arrived on Asgard.

  Chapter 26

  If Narnaste had run, or even traveled a bit faster, the trip to the mysterious Faithful village would probably take less time. Despite Asgard being big—probably bigger than Earth—as transportation, the transformed wolf was really amazing. She was huge, tireless, and was only slowed down by wide rivers or thick vegetation.

  But snow had started to fall, and Trav wasn’t in any huge hurry to reach their destination. Now that he actually had some power to play with, he was growing in confidence every day. Experimenting with magic had become routine, as well as loading a growing number of runework into Hex.

  Now that Ysintrill had come out of her shell, slowly healing from being trapped in her de facto prison, she’d been reverting back to the warrior and adventurer she’d been in the past. As a result, Trav wasn’t entirely surprised when she’d suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and asked for some weapons.

  In truth, their entire group was a bit lacking in weapons except for Trav himself. Narnaste still had her seax knife, which she’d been using to butcher animals and do other tasks, but Yaakova only had a small belt knife she kept at her back, and Ysintrill had been carrying a club. She’d also found some flaky rock somewhere and had knapped it into a serviceable cutting edge. The group was making do, but if not for Kin biology, Trav’s magic, and Narnaste’s hunting, they would have been in trouble a while ago.

  After the run-in with the demon worshippers, the group had been avoiding any signs of civilization while traveling cross-country. Existing out in the middle of nowhere had its drawbacks.

  Trav thought about the weapons request.
“Narnaste, could you take us over to that clump of trees near that big rock and the cliff thing?” Trav pointed, forgetting that his wolf-form Valkyrie couldn’t see him, but her head swiveled around anyway, and she flicked her ears.

  “Trill, what kind of weapons do you want?” he asked.

  Behind him, the dark-skinned beauty replied, “I would like a bow, Chief. Perhaps some something else for my waist if you have time.”

  “Alright. Narn, what about you?”

  The huge wolf shrugged her massive shoulders. “I think a simple spear will be fine, Master, more for hunting than anything else. During most fights in the future, I will probably be in this form, but having a backup would be nice. The seax is useful but not great for combat.”

  “I understand. You can’t exactly be the wolf if we’re in a cave again, either.” He looked up, and shouted at the raven circling in the sky, “What about you, Kova?”

  The dark bird fluttered down, settling on Trav’s knee gently before speaking. “I believe I do not need any more weapons, New One. My claws have served me well before, and now I have my feathers too.”

  “What about clothes? A jacket, anything?” In her original form, the harpy still sported the revealing, fancy clothing that she’d worn when Trav had first met her.

  “No, New One. The cold does not touch me.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t ask any more questions, just took her word for it, and moved directly to thinking of logistical concerns. Trav had knowledge from Odin about how to make crude, simple versions of everything that had been asked for. He jingled the items in his small, handmade bag and hoped it would be enough. “We have lots of sinew left from the deer we’ve eaten, right?”

  “Yes,” came Narnaste’s answer.

  “Good.”

  ***

  Trav glanced at the pile of materials off to one side and nodded. “I think that’s everything.”

  “Will this take you long?” asked Ysintrill.

  Trav shook his head. “No, gathering everything is what took a while. Where did Yaakova and Narnaste go?”

  “Narn is hunting. Kova got bored of watching you and went to fly around.”

  “Got it. Well, that means you’ll be the only one here to inspect what I give you and ask for any changes.”

  The disir woman chuckled. “Chief, I know you will make any changes the others ask for later. They know this too.”

  Trav didn’t know what to say to that. He just grumbled, “Kin,” under his breath as he finished organizing his supplies. That done, he got to work.

  The large rock before him would be a work surface. He summoned Hex into one hand and pointed. “Soften like clay.” The sigils danced over the surface of the stone, and Trav began shaping it with one hand while continuing to point the shiv. The stone still required a solid push to move, but it wasn’t long before he had a flat working surface with a sunken, shallow, square portion. It looked like a mold...because it was one. With one more bit of effort, he created a channel to one side of the mold for excess material.

  Then he produced the iron he’d pocketed from his bag and the handful of other iron bits that his companions had volunteered. Iron was not exactly rare on Asgard, but Trav didn’t have a wheelbarrow full of it out in the middle of nowhere. He was making do. After placing all iron in the shallow mold, he pointed Hex and said, “Melt.”

  Magic flashed, and the iron almost immediately heated up, growing red-hot in seconds, and melting soon afterward. This magic effect was potent but used a lot of power. Luckily, Trav was only melting a small amount of metal and could cut back on the amount of magic it needed.

  Soon the iron filled the mold, and some ran off through the excess channel. “Harden.” The metal almost immediately began to cool, starting to form a sheet of solid iron. Trav nodded. This rune working would also make the iron as dense as if it’d been forged.

  That done, he fashioned a new work stone and fetched some materials. First, he needed to prepare wood. Fresh-cut saplings were easy to work with, but as-is would not make good weapons. After placing a few green sticks on the new work stone, Trav used Hex and announced, “Dry.” This magic had been incredibly handy over the last week, especially since the days had turned cold. Trav could place a glyph equation with a time limit in an earthen room, turning it into a drying chamber.

  On a smaller scale, this magic seemed to be good at drying out saplings, too. Trav left the wood to cure and returned to the iron. Using Hex, he scribed lines of red, burning magic into the sheet metal, cutting out shapes he planned to use later.

  After returning to the wood, he checked to see if it was dry and decided he could use it now. Nothing he was making would be an heirloom-quality weapon; it just needed to work for a week or so until they arrived at Narnaste’s Faithful town.

  He selected a fairly thick piece of wood and set it off to the side. Next, he bent a thin piece of wood and attached a string to both ends, making a bow. “Cut.” The magic took effect, and now Trav had an incredibly effective saw for the next hour or two.

  He cut a notch into the thick wood, making a handle for an axe. Next, he added four splints of iron to the haft—on the sides of the head, then one to the front, and one behind. He wrapped the weapon tightly with sinew, using a few holes he’d placed in the simple iron axe head to keep the whole contraption tight.

  Next, he placed a plain leather wrap at the base for a handle and, using Hex, easily sharpened the iron blade.

  Now Ysintrill had an axe. “Do you like it?” he asked, handing the weapon to the elven-looking woman.

  “I am impressed you could make this so quickly. Yes, this will work, and thank you, but I need a sheath.”

  “Oh, okay. Just a minute.” Trav quickly made a sheath for the new axe and then got busy again, creating new weapons.

  He worked this way for some time, completely focused on what he was doing. Since he’d suspected days before that he’d need to craft something soon, he’d stored a number of utility rune magic in his dagger. Now he was able to cut a few corners, still working quickly and efficiently.

  The bow was fairly easy to craft, at least with rune magic. After stringing it, Trav could actually increase the stiffness of the weapon, increasing its draw weight with a simple twist of his shiv, rotating a magic circle that hung in the air. He wordlessly handed the bow to Ysintrill to test several times until she liked the level of resistance, then he strengthened the wood, cut an arrow shelf at the appropriate point, and set it aside. Now it was time to craft arrows.

  On Earth, making arrows would probably be fairly hard, but on Asgard, it was easy. Trav used a simple glyph to straighten each peeled, magically dried stick. Then he used another glyph to soften the wood like clay. The saw he’d crafted earlier helped with making a notch for the arrowhead and the nock. He’d punched a small hole in each arrowhead for the wood to meet and meld together through the iron. Once that was done, he wrapped below the iron and above the nock with sinew.

  Finally, he used feathers he’d cut in half lengthwise, pushing them directly into the putty-like wood above the nock. After this, the arrow was finished, and he made fourteen others just like it. The entire time he worked, his long-eared Valkyrie watched him intently.

  Now that the arrows were done, Trav crafted a simple quiver with leather he had on hand—most of it deer hide that he’d cured days before. Learning to cure hides with magic had been a necessity to create blankets and extra clothing as soon as the weather had begun getting colder.

  He examined the quiver with a critical eye and slowly nodded. Then he handed the completed quiver, arrows, and bow to Ysintrill and shook his head. The bow probably had a one hundred-and-fifty-pound draw, far more than most humans could draw.

  The disir accepted the weapons with a reverent air, and Trav smiled slightly. Trill was treating the weapons like some women on Earth would react to diamonds and rubies.

  Trav returned to crafting and gave some thought to how he’d create Narnaste’s spear. Since the Kin wo
man’s clothing and anything she held disappeared when she transformed, bulk didn’t seem to be a problem.

  He made a face and decided to use the rest of the iron, cutting out a large, wicked-shaped spearhead. After that, it was a simple matter to craft the weapon, harden it, sharpen the blade, and even add a nice leather wrap for the grip.

  “Okay, done.” Trav nodded and felt a deep sense of accomplishment. He stretched and sighed. “Can you help me gather all this stuff up, Trill? We need to throw it back into those big saddle bags that Narnaste carries now.”

  “Of course, Chief.”

  The two of them began working, and after a few minutes, Ysintrill suddenly ran forward and hugged him. “Thank you,” she said, rubbing her eyes and turning away. Then she began working again like nothing had happened.

  Trav blinked a few times. He shrugged and went back to what he’d been doing.

  ***

  The next morning, he could tell that Narnaste was feeling pleased with herself. She’d loved her new spear, and had spent that night with him. The lupine Kin woman had been practically bouncing all morning. Trav had to hide a smile a few times. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that she was Kin.

  Their little group had begun traveling a little later than normal, and the clear, cold air felt crisp but healthy. Trav was beginning to enjoy the scenery and the smell of pines.

  Suddenly, he cocked his head—he could feel something new. Without knowing exactly how, he knew that up ahead, somewhere in the sky, Yaakova had seen something strange and was sending the message to him for his decision.

  Trav closed his eyes and caught flashes, images of what the transformed harpy could see. Stone had been stacked before the mouth of a cave, effectively forming a stone home. The structure would normally be secure, probably even against most creatures on Asgard, but was currently surrounded by a disfigured pack of monsters.

  “Narnaste,” said Trav, his eyes still closed, “what kind of creature has lumpy brown skin and kind of looks like a man, but has claws and can walk on all four limbs? And also,” Trav said, continuing to watch the vision in his mind, “have spikes on their elbows, big teeth, and long tongues?”