tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25749442665548665882024-03-12T17:41:51.102-07:00When All of a Sudden...Writing is hard. Writing well is harder. Writing well without going insane is impossible. Welcome to the writings and meanderings of Benjamin Clayborne.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-42999437203720836642015-12-11T12:28:00.000-08:002015-12-11T12:28:37.769-08:00MINDFIRE BOOK 2: THE SILVER WAR now available on Amazon!You wouldn't <i>believe</i> how long it can take to edit a book when you only have an hour or two a day to work on it.<br />
<br />
On a totally unrelated topic, book 2 of the <i>Mindfire</i> trilogy, THE SILVER WAR, is now available on Amazon for a measly <b>$4.95</b> (that won't even buy you a decent sandwich around here):
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0197IIDYU" style="font-size: 2em;" target="_blank">Buy now!</a>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0197IIDYU" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwm9uK5Holk/Vmstw1UHepI/AAAAAAAAAG0/NVMEfgZ_GdA/s320/silverwar_final.JPG" width="213" /></a>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwm9uK5Holk/Vmstw1UHepI/AAAAAAAAAG0/NVMEfgZ_GdA/s1600/silverwar_final.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank">(click here for full-size version of cover art)</a></div>
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That's right, the wait is over! The adventures of Amira, Dardan, Liam, and Katin continue as things start to get rough. Thanks again to the fabulous <a href="https://www.patreon.com/kreugan">Melissa Erickson</a> for the excellent cover art.
Here's the Amazon blurb:
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The story of MINDFIRE continues in Book 2: THE SILVER WAR.
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In the distant realm of Garova, mages have arisen—young people who
can control and harness energy with their minds. The first of them,
Countess Amira Tarian, has thwarted an attack by King Edon, himself a
mage, who nevertheless remains intent on subjugating her. Along with
her husband, Count Dardan, she seeks the assistance of Duke Arturin
Surroi, a crafty and powerful nobleman who may hold the key to defeating
the mad king and restoring order to the realm.
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<br />
But her plans will not be carried out so easily. A rogue faction of
Wardens, holy warriors who have sworn to protect the realm and the
faith, has begun hunting mages. Edon's sister, Princess Taya,
undertakes her own schemes to control the throne... And even Duke Surroi
himself may have other aims in mind.
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<br />
As the mages' power grows and armies marshal their forces, Amira
begins a search for ancient secrets that may save them all—or may bring
destruction to the whole realm...</blockquote>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-69895661521804982352015-03-04T22:53:00.000-08:002015-03-04T22:53:13.950-08:00BJARHEIM'S SHADOW is now on Amazon!Now that BJARHEIM'S SHADOW is done, I've compiled it into ebook form and hurled it into the ether—by which I mean, it's now available on Amazon for Kindle. The book has been lightly edited (mainly for a couple of minor consistency and copy issues) but it's the same story that was serialized here.<br><br>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bjarheims-Shadow-Benjamin-Clayborne-ebook/dp/B00U6S9C9Q/">Go buy it on Amazon!</a><br><br>
And here's the cover:<br><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IWkpOYfASWA/VPf8-1rY5VI/AAAAAAAAAGM/veMMdzsEAEo/s1600/bjarheim-cover-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IWkpOYfASWA/VPf8-1rY5VI/AAAAAAAAAGM/veMMdzsEAEo/s400/bjarheim-cover-001.jpg" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-4848494289144970992014-11-24T17:12:00.000-08:002014-11-24T17:12:01.989-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XXII - ConclusionHere it is, the final chapter of BJARHEIM'S SHADOW! It was a long road getting here (I wrote another novel along the way, which is in the editing phase at the moment), but it's finally here.<br />
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BJARHEIM'S SHADOW will be collected into a single ebook and released online in the next few weeks, but I'm going to leave all the chapters here just because.
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<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">XVII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xviii.html">XVIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-xix.html">XIX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/09/bjarheims-shadow-part-xx.html">XX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/11/bjarheims-shadow-part-xxi.html">XXI</a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XXII</b></div>
<br />
If there was a place where light and shadow could coexist, neither trying to destroy the other, this was it.<br />
<br />
Erik could not feel, not hear, only see. He had no body, no skin, no hands, no breath. There was only the bright and the dark, filling his vision. He could not blink to shut it out, or look away.<br />
<br />
With maddening lethargy, motes in the gray glow became visible. Erik willed them to move faster, eager to see them coalesce and resolve, but they would not obey. Only with time did they swell and merge, and finally the motes became blobs, then shapes, angles and curves giving form and meaning to the world again.<br />
<br />
Erik almost didn’t notice when sensation returned to his skin. Something felt cold, and in a few more moments he realized that it was <i>him</i> that was cold. Part of him. His back, yes, that was it. Was it exposed to the wind? No, it lay on the cold ground beneath him. In front of him—<i>above</i> him, yes, that was it—the grayness dissolved into pale blue, and one bright blob became a cloud, slowly metamorphosing overhead. Thick lines became the edge of the Cathedral’s roof.<br />
<br />
Another blob turned dark, hazel—no, light brown, reddish-brown. Auburn. That was the name for it. The auburn swayed slightly. It called to him. “Erik,” it said, and Erik had never been happier to hear a color speak.<br />
<br />
Then part of the auburn became reddish-pink, and the pink became skin and a nose and lips and Kari was looking down at him, calling his name again and again.<br />
<br />
Erik smiled.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The Shadow’s detonation had caved in the Cathedral’s front wall and knocked over several of the stone pillars that it had summoned up to try and trap Erik. The explosion had, for whatever reason, been significantly less powerful than the blast that the Remy-Shadow creature had mustered upon its demise.<br />
<br />
Kari and Ollemar had been the only others close to it, and they’d been knocked “ass over teakettle,” in Kari’s words, but managed to acquire only a few bruises. The crater was empty; the Shadow had left no remnant behind that anyone could see.<br />
<br />
Over the next several minutes, Erik’s senses and reason returned to him, and he was able to stand and hobble about a bit. He showed no bruises, but felt sore all over. The golden orbs, the sun-fragments, were gone. Erik whispered the Song of Seeing and gazed out over the square. The globes of idle golden ironsong had dissipated. Aside from the crater, the damaged cathedral, the strange stone pillars, and a few piles of ash—Erik’s stomach turned as he remembered those who had died fighting the Shadow—Bjarheim did not look as if it had spent weeks suffering under the Shadow’s thrall.<br />
<br />
Some folk had crept back into the square, now that things had quieted down. They began to gather around Erik, and he heard mutters about magic and power and prophecies.<br />
<br />
“To the hells with prophecies,” Erik shouted suddenly. He saw Ollemar raise an eyebrow at him, and look slightly offended. Well, it was the Brandrinn’s prophecy that had put him on this road. So what? He wasn’t Odinson, no matter what Ollemar said. “I just did what needed to be done.”<br />
<br />
“You lot had better have more sense than to start worshipping him,” Kari said, and punched Erik in the shoulder. <i>Look, he’s just a kid.</i><br />
<br />
It smarted, but he smiled at her anyway. A few Bjarheimers laughed and exchanged sheepish glances.<br />
<br />
Then another memory hit him. “Da!” he shouted, and started pushing his way through the crowd—before realizing that he had no idea where Finnar had been taken. “Where’s my da? Finnar Rain, where’d they take him?”<br />
<br />
Someone in the crowd had seen Finnar carried off, and led Erik and Kari and Ollemar to the other end of the square. A public house had been turned into a makeshift infirmary for those that had suffered non-fatal injuries during Erik’s fight with the Shadow. Finnar was there, propped up on a chair. His right leg was missing its lower half, and the stump had been wrapped in several layers of red-stained bandages.<br />
<br />
Erik’s da waved weakly as Erik came over. “They got it all,” he said. The bandages made it hard to tell, but it looked as if it had been cut off at the knee. “Dunno how I’ll manage, but there’s carpenters what can make me a false leg,” he said.<br />
<br />
“You’ll still be twice the man as any other Bjarheimer, even with half the legs,” Erik joked. Finnar laughed weakly, then coughed some and closed his eyes, muttering something to himself.<br />
<br />
The old woman who had directed Finnar to be carried off saw Erik and came over. “He’ll be weak for a while, but he’ll heal. We’ll keep him here until he’s well enough to move.”<br />
<br />
“Where is he?” someone shouted, and a big man burst into the room. Erik knew that voice; he turned and saw his brother Magnus stomping toward him. “I was—I woke up on the other side of the city, lying in the street. Send me to the hells if I know how I got there. Da—!” He gawped at his father’s truncated limb. “What in the blazes happened?”<br />
<br />
Erik recounted the day’s events, in as much detail as he could stomach. Magnus shook his head at the madness of it all. “I can see you turning green, little brother,” he said, once he’d calmed down. “Let’s get you home and rested.”<br />
<br />
Erik had no argument. He’d shouldered enough responsibility for one day.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The losses were tallied. Half a hundred folk never awoke from their Shadow-sleep. Mostly elders who hadn’t enough fight left in them, and, tragically, a few infants who hadn’t developed the strength for it. Miraculously, the Shadow had only killed four people during Erik’s battle with it, the four who’d been touched by its tendrils. Those who had been close when the Shadow had screamed, and had had black goo leaking out of their ears, did not die, but all of them had gone deaf.<br />
<br />
But the priests in the Cathedral had all died when the Shadow expired, save for the two that Erik and his friends had freed from its grasp. The two men, Father Gorhath and Father Haldinar, were shaken by their ordeal but promised that they would do what they could to rebuild the ranks of the priesthood.<br />
<br />
Father Bernhard’s body was never found. It had been destroyed, as Erik feared, when the Shadow had erupted from it. Bernhard had been a stern man, but Erik had never held any hatred for him. He mourned the priest’s loss as fiercely as all the others.<br />
<br />
And, of course, there was Aiar. The rest of the fae had been trapped underground by the Shadow’s power, but their own magic had kept it from intruding any further into their caverns. They regretted not being able to fight the Shadow off. It had just been too strong.<br />
<br />
Some Bjarheimers were put off by this, and muttered that the fae had cowered down below while Bjarheim suffered the brunt of the Shadow’s assault. The fae who came to the surface after the Shadow vanished simply pretended not to hear them. They were led by Thiktim, the angry fae whom Erik and Kari had encountered on their visit to the fae caverns. He seemed calmer, now, but once they had ventured into the grasses beyond Bjarheim and found Aiar’s blackened corpse, Thiktim showed no more interest in interacting with humans. Erik wept as they carried Aiar’s remains down the hole that led to their caves.<br />
<br />
A stone monument was commissioned at once to celebrate Erik’s victory, and to mourn those who had fought and died against the Shadow. There was a movement to erect a bronze statue of Erik atop it, and Erik was grateful when Finnar hobbled up to the front of the room and loudly said that there was no way he would let the others ruin his son’s life by putting up a statue of him. Erik was grateful, and perhaps a little annoyed. It <i>might</i> have been nice to have a statue…<br />
<br />
Instead, they settled on a stone obelisk, and at the base, the names of all those who had died fighting the Shadow would be inscribed upon it. Aiar, and Florr, and the poor Bjarheimers who had turned to ash, and those who had succumbed to the Shadow-sleep. Erik thought about suggesting that they add Remy Thurain, but even before he’d been possessed and corrupted by the Shadow, Remy hadn’t been particularly popular, so he discarded the idea without mentioning it.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Life slowly returned to normal. Finnar had a false wooden leg made, and he could hobble around on it, though he grumbled incessantly. Magnus went back to the mines only long enough to cash out his shares, so that he could return to Bjarheim and be with his family.<br />
<br />
The Bjarheimers who had accompanied Erik north, and who had stayed with the farmers when Erik, Kari, Finnar, Aiar, and Ollemar had gone off to find Djalgand Skaldi, returned to Bjarheim after a party was sent to retrieve them. Kari’s family was elated to find her healthy and safe in Bjarheim, though her mother was furious that she’d run away with Erik and the others. “You could have been killed!” was all Gaelle Fray could shout, over and over, as they stood in the front yard of their house. Kari had been living alone, cooking and cleaning for herself while she waited for word of her family.<br />
<br />
She scowled mulishly at the disapprobation, and simply left when Gaelle wouldn’t let up. Erik happened to have been visiting when Kari’s family had returned. He gave Gaelle an apologetic backward glance, and followed Kari until she stopped stomping through the streets and demanded, “You think they’re right?”<br />
<br />
“No!” Erik protested. Truly, he didn’t. Sure, it had been a dangerous journey, but why on earth would she think he’d have wanted her gone? “Without you, we never would have made it.”<br />
<br />
Kari snorted. “The one person on that trip who had no magic, and you think I was that valuable?”<br />
<br />
“My da had no magic,” Erik said. “He’d lost it long ago, remember?”<br />
<br />
“Well, he knew about it.” She kicked a pebble across the street. “I just…”<br />
<br />
Erik waited for a minute. “Just what?”<br />
<br />
“Well, everything’s back to normal now, innit? I’m of age now, and they’re going to start prodding me toward a betrothal.”<br />
<br />
“I never knew a person less able to be prodded toward anything,” Erik said.<br />
<br />
Kari grinned. She grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him, then pushed him back and walked off, eyes twinkling.<br />
<br />
<i>The Shadow was easier to understand than this girl,</i> Erik thought. <i>Woman. Whatever.</i> He ran after her.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik never really got used to the eyes.<br />
<br />
Everywhere he went, people would see him and whisper. Despite his da’s insistence—and Erik’s agreement—that people not try to deify him, they still treated him like some kind of hero. He didn’t feel like a hero.<br />
<br />
He practiced his magic. The fae rebuffed his attempts to contact them, so he had to practice with the <i>methar</i> on his own. Maybe there was someone down there who would be willing, but Thiktim had put his foot down. Unless there was some kind of leadership shake-up down below, Erik would never get guidance from the fae. They lived so long, it might be hundreds of years before that happened.<br />
<br />
The ironspeakers were happy to accommodate him, especially once he explained how he had met and learned from Djalgand Skaldi. The hermit had a fearsome reputation among the ironspeakers of Bjarheim, and they all wanted to hear Erik’s story of how he’d journeyed to the Styggen and negotiated Skaldi’s traps. After a while, they lost interest in that, and Erik apprenticed himself to Master Halgrin. But it became evident in short order that Erik’s power and control over the golden threads already outstripped Halgrin’s, even if Erik didn’t know as many songs. He learned what he could and moved on. Halgrin encouraged him to take up ironspeaking as a profession, but Erik felt too young, too raw to commit to something so… definitive.<br />
<br />
Ollemar stayed in the city for a few weeks, until the call of the forest grew too strong. “If I stay much longer, the Seed will abandon me, and I cannot shirk my duties so,” the Brandrinn said.<br />
<br />
“I understand,” Erik said. “I wish you could teach me more.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar frowned. Erik had had the same experience with the woodsmen’s magic as he had with the ironspeakers’. The Seed was an open book to him; he could trace its every pulse in his mind, and weave nets of such delicacy that Ollemar had spent hours examining them and trying to copy him. Ollemar asked only once if Erik would join the Brandrinn—he even mentioned the prophecy again, though he seemed less convinced of its truth, now—but Erik again demurred. “Bjarheim is my home,” he said. “I don’t know if the Shadow is destroyed forever. I have to stay here.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar nodded sagely, shook Erik’s hand, and left. He hadn’t said farewell to anyone else. Old habits, it seemed, died hard.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik did, however, consent to join the Conclave. There was a feverish motion for him to become its leader—though not everyone supported this idea—and Erik again refused. He had experienced much since fleeing Bjarheim, but he had not learned politics. After sitting through a few meetings, he felt as if discussions about crops and street repairs far outweighed any consideration of the Shadow. He would learn those things in time. There was a lot more to governing a city than defending it from dark horrors.<br />
<br />
He was a man now, he supposed. Finnar gave him plenty of leeway after the fighting ended, but soon enough began to grumble that Erik needed to pull his own weight in the household, magic be damned. Erik had no problem with that. He could pursue ordinary work and practice his magics in his spare time.<br />
<br />
And he pursued Kari. As if saving Bjarheim hadn’t proved his mettle! Nonetheless, she wanted more from him. He found work in a stonemason’s shop, and earned enough to put food on the table, helping to compensate for his father’s reduced capacity.<br />
<br />
Kari appreciated Erik’s work more than his magic. She’d spend time with him, ignoring her mother’s attempts to pair her off with other strapping young lads of Bjarheim. “D’you think we’ll get married some day?” Erik asked on impulse, one golden afternoon as they sat atop the Fray family’s roof.<br />
<br />
Kari stared blankly at him. “We’re only sixteen.”<br />
<br />
“I didn’t say now,” Erik retorted. Kari appreciated directness, and boldness. She seemed to like him a lot more since he’d figured that one out. “Just some day.”<br />
<br />
“Some day,” she echoed, and took his hand. “No promises.”<br />
<br />
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Erik said, and lay his head on her shoulder.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The sun still glimmered over the western hills as Erik trudged up the path. Alone, he reached the flat hilltop where he, the Frays, Florr, Aiar, Thora, and the others had taken refuge after Bjarheim had been first consumed by the Shadow. He turned around and looked back at the city. It stood red in the sunset, awaiting the creeping darkness cast by the very hills Erik stood upon. This time, it was no malignant Shadow waiting to engulf the city, just ordinary shade, as the sun went on its circuit about the world.<br />
<br />
Hearthlights glowed, and the city of Bjarheim slipped toward the quiet dark as Erik Rain watched and breathed contentedly under the cobalt sky.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE END</b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-35361496154429483502014-11-03T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T17:37:01.758-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XXIAt long last, part 21. Life did its best to get in the way, until I punched life in the face and told it to mind its own damn business. There should be one more part after this one. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">XVII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xviii.html">XVIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-xix.html">XIX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/09/bjarheims-shadow-part-xx.html">XX</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XXI</b></div>
<br />
Fear gripped Erik as he looked up at the black Shadow, hovering over the steps of the Cathedral. The orange embers glowing in what passed for its face seemed to bore right through him. Was <i>singing</i> really going to put a stop to this horror?<br />
<br />
He had to try. What choice did he have? He thought about Aiar, about Florr, about everyone who had succumbed to the darkness. Even Remy, who had been possessed and corrupted by it. Jackass he may have been, but no one, human, fae, or otherwise, deserved that fate.<br />
<br />
Erik would not let that happen to him, or to anyone else. He began to sing.<br />
<br />
It was the Song of Seeing. He could already sense the golden threads flitting about at the edge of perception, and within a few notes they strengthened into a golden torrent, whirling and dancing at random in the air all around him.<br />
<br />
The Shadow’s tendrils had grown longer, thickening into black ropes that started to branch at the ends. The first tendrils reached the stone steps beneath the Shadow, and where they struck, pools of blackness with a bruise-purple sheen formed around them. The pools began to grow as the Shadow laughed, a rumble that made Erik’s hair stand on end.<br />
<br />
Erik concentrated on his song. The golden whorls around him were as bright as he’d ever seen. He could make out every individual thread if he focused, tiny packets of golden light cavorting in the air, heedless of the Shadow.<br />
<br />
But what to sing next? A song of binding, of cutting, of burning? What would harm the Shadow? Bernhard’s body had been damaged and ultimately destroyed by a dart woven of Erik’s three magics. It was as good a place to start as any.<br />
<br />
He focused on the <i>methar</i> and the Seed, and wove the strongest, tighest dart he could. He wrapped it in golden song and threw it at the Shadow.<br />
<br />
This time, there was no shield. The dart struck the Shadow in what resembled its chest, and punched straight through, leaving a fist-sized hole. The Shadow’s laughter cut off, but the Shadow itself did not shake or falter. Instead, the ground below it, where the tendrils touched, disintegrated to dust. The stone steps crumbled as if aging ten thousand years in a second. The hole in the Shadow’s chest filled itself in, black and purple gases coalescing into whatever constituted the Shadow’s body.<br />
<br />
“I WILL CONSUME YOUR WORLD.” The Shadow’s eye-embers glowed ever more fiercely. “YOU ONLY SPEED ITS DEMISE.”<br />
<br />
<i>So much for attacking it directly.</i> That left one other option.<br />
<br />
Enough light would banish any shadow.<br />
<br />
Erik began a simple, clear melody, something any child could learn. He stretched out his hand. The golden threads near it coalesced into a ball of golden light. It was weak, barely visible in the daylight. Even at night it would have been no brighter than a candle. Djalgand Skaldi had taught him the Song of Light one evening after everyone else had gone to bed. The golden ball had hardly been able to compete with the light from Djalgand’s fireplace, but Erik enjoyed the melody anyway, and memorized it.<br />
<br />
Now he turned his back on the Shadow, and locked eyes with the old woman who’d gotten the others to help Finnar. He nodded at her. She took the hint, mimicking his song, warbling on either side of the correct pitch for each note, but she had the general melody of it. Others began to join in.<br />
<br />
“YOU WOULD BANISH THE DARKNESS?” the Shadow boomed. Erik did not turn around. “SUCH A PATHETIC EFFORT COULD NEVER TOUCH THE BAREST FRACTION OF ME.”<br />
<br />
He wouldn’t look at it. That gave it power, made it real. Instead, Erik walked among the crowd, encouraging everyone to join in the song. It was a simple, short refrain, only a few seconds long, and easily learned. Erik was guiding the song, the only one here able to use its power, but the more people sang, the more power he could draw. He sang at the threads all around them, and the threads began to coalesce into faint, hollow globes. More people sang. The globes thickened.<br />
<br />
Erik brought his glowing ball close to one of the weak orbs. The idle golden motes merged with those that made up his ball, the tiny threads twisting together in intricate coils, seemingly of their own accord. Erik’s ball brightened.<br />
<br />
The Shadow laughed again, and Erik finally felt compelled to look back at it. Its tentacles had grown, spreading outward from where they’d first touched down, crawling across the cobbles toward the nearest Bjarheimers. The folk held their ground, but looked perturbed by the ominous black tendrils.<br />
<br />
Erik sang louder. His voice carried, and yet was drowned out by the folk around him taking up the tune. Dozens, scores of faint golden spheres appeared in the air around him. Erik passed his glowing ball through as many as he could reach, and though the change each time was minuscule, the ball glowed ever more brightly. And there were hundreds of clusters of golden thread yet to collect. <br />
<br />
There was a scream, and Erik’s song faltered. <i>No!</i> He looked back at the Cathedral. The Shadow’s tendrils had elongated suddenly, thrusting toward one part of the crowd. The Bjarheimers had shrunk back from it, uncertain. The group most menaced by the tendrils had stopped singing.<br />
<br />
Erik sang even louder and made his way toward them. His throat began to hurt. How long could he keep this up? He tried not to think about it as he came closer to the embattled Bjarheimers. He patted the nearest man on the shoulders, trying to encourage him to take up the song again. The man’s brows beetled nervously, so Erik smiled in the friendliest way he could.<br />
<br />
After a few agonizing moments, while the Shadow’s tendrils crept ever closer, his lips started to move. Then the melody came, and the man had the notes again. Golden spheres appeared to Erik’s eyes, floating about the man’s head. The man couldn’t see them, of course, and he looked baffled when Erik waved his hand around, collecting those clumps of golden ironsong. But he kept singing, and that was what mattered.<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t know if the golden light would do any good. But what was the Shadow, if not a place without enough light? He had to try; if the Shadow spread any further, and this <i>didn’t</i> work…<br />
<br />
Erik pushed past the cityfolk, and stopped abruptly as one of the Shadow’s tendrils lunged toward him. It didn’t quite reach, but Erik’s heart nearly leapt out of his throat. The song faltered; the crowd murmured and sighed nervously. Erik forced down the the panic in his chest and sang again.<br />
<br />
The Shadow’s taunting laughter had stopped. There was a pause in the air, even as the song persisted, and then the tendril shot forward again, boring straight toward Erik’s heart.<br />
<br />
A man, some man Erik didn’t know, leapt in front of him. The man’s scream barely had time to register as his body disintegrated to ash in the blink of an eye.<br />
<br />
Erik’s throat caught, and he made himself swallow violently and continue the song. The tendril had stopped when it struck the man, and there was something—diminished about it. It wavered absently in the air. What it had done had not strengthened the Shadow.<br />
<br />
It had <i>weakened</i> it.<br />
<br />
<i>Is that how to defeat it? Sacrifice lives when it attacks?</i> The thought made Erik sick. But it also made him confident that the Shadow was not all-powerful. If it could be weakened… it could be destroyed.<br />
<br />
He realized that in the panic of the attack, he’d sunk to one knee. He struggled to his feet, and found the way eased by strong hands pulling him up: Ollemar stood beside him. “We’re here,” the woodsman said.<br />
<br />
Erik looked to his other side. Kari’s hand rested on his shoulder. She didn’t smile either, but the sternness of her glare reinvigorated him all the same.<br />
<br />
“Then sing with me,” Erik said, and took up the Song again.<br />
<br />
A dozen, a hundred voices around him rose in unison, and a faint gray film that had accumulated in the air overhead suddenly dissipated. Erik hadn’t even noticed it, but the Shadow must have been draining the energy out of the very air around them. The Song had pushed it back. <i>If it can be weakened…</i><br />
<br />
The Shadow’s inchoate void still hovered over what was left of the Cathedral’s front steps. The tendrils trailing into the crater beneath it still pulsed and thickened. Whatever had happened to the tendril that had disintegrated that poor man, the Shadow itself seemed unaffected. But it wasn’t cackling or mocking him any longer.<br />
<br />
Erik kept collecting golden threads out of the air, and the orb he held grew with every mote that touched it. It was so bright, it hurt his eyes to look directly at it. It was almost like holding a piece of the sun. He glanced up at the burning embers that served as the Shadow’s eyes. They tracked him as he moved among the crowd—no, tracked the <i>orb</i>. Even the Shadow was wary of its power.<br />
<br />
Could it be afraid? Erik, on a whim, teased apart his orb, separating out about a fifth of its threads into a separate, smaller ball. He wrapped the golden sun-fragment in a quick netting of violet and emerald, then lobbed it overhead toward the Shadow.<br />
<br />
The burning embers snapped up to track its path. Erik hadn’t aimed it very precisely—it was going to land a few yards from the Shadow—but the monstrosity recoiled away from it. Two of its tendrils withdrew suddenly, as if proximity to the golden fragment might harm them. Was there something different about it? The Shadow hadn’t dodged the dart he’d thrown at it a few minutes ago. But this…<br />
<br />
“Ollemar!” Erik yelped, even as he pulled his golden orb apart into several smaller fragments, and began weaving nets around them. “We need to hit it with one of these.”<br />
<br />
The woodsman looked down at him, and saw the emerald part of the net Erik held. He deftly hooked it onto his staff and nodded.<br />
<br />
Erik glanced at the Shadow and saw that it was swirling more vigorously; two new large tendrils had begun to unfurl themselves from its torso. “Look out!” he shouted reflexively.<br />
<br />
The tendrils whipped in his direction. He and Kari had the presence of mind to duck; Ollemar had seen it coming before any of them, and had already crouched down.<br />
<br />
But others were not so fortunate. Two men and a woman, standing just to Finnar’s side, were struck by the tendrils and shrieked as their bodies crackled and froze into ashen statues of themselves. A breeze immediately sent whorls of gray dust coiling away from them.<br />
<br />
Erik glanced up in time to see Ollemar vaulting into the air over the tendrils, slashing at them with the sun-fragment Erik had given him. The tendrils, like the first one, seemed languid and weakened by their strike, and when Ollemar’s blade hit them, they were shorn clean off. The severed parts dissipated into a black foam that sank into the cobblestones and vanished.<br />
<br />
The Shadow screamed.<br />
<br />
All the Bjarheimers stopped their song and clamped their hands over their ears. Scores of them fell to their knees or collapsed altogether. Black vitriol bubbled out of the ears of a number of those closest to the Shadow.<br />
<br />
The scream cut off as abruptly as it had begun. Erik scrambled to his feet, holding tightly to the remaining globe of golden threads he’d accumulated.<br />
<br />
“We’d better destroy it before it does <i>that</i> again,” Kari grumbled.<br />
<br />
Erik grabbed a pebble from the ground and bound another sun-fragment to it. “Use this.”<br />
<br />
“A pebble?” Kari snorted. “Might be more use than whatever else you were throwing at it.”<br />
<br />
“No, it’s—special. Just trust me!” he shouted. She held up a hand defensively.<br />
<br />
The Song had mostly stopped. A few Bjarheimers caught up the tune again, but there was no structure to it; too many of them were still recovering from the Shadow’s scream. Erik would not be able to gather any more power from the golden threads.<br />
<br />
“We’ve only got one chance,” Erik said to Ollemar as the Brandrinn alighted next to him. “We need a clear space.”<br />
<br />
There were a dozen or more folk writhing on the ground nearest the Shadow, those who had been too close to its scream. Others had started to flee, depending on their ability. There was nothing Erik could do for them now. If Erik failed, <i>everyone</i> would die.<br />
<br />
Ollemar leapt up and grabbed onto a lamp-post. “CLEAR THE SQUARE!” he boomed, in a stronger voice than Erik had ever heard him use.<br />
<br />
The Bjarheimers were no cowards, but they did not need to be told twice. Those who were able turned and ran.<br />
<br />
“Flank it,” Erik said to his two companions, hefting the last sun-fragment.<br />
<br />
“Are you sure it’ll work?” Kari asked.<br />
<br />
“Not even a little,” Erik said, trying to keep panic from his voice.<br />
<br />
“Can’t hurt to try, then.” Her faint smile meant more to him, in this dark moment, than any show of bravery might have.<br />
<br />
Ollemar nodded agreement. “It has been an honor fighting alongside you, Odinson.”<br />
<br />
“Never a wrong time to be somber, is there?” Kari said, then darted off to one side.<br />
<br />
The Shadow’s eyes followed her, and then it noticed that Ollemar had bounded the other way. Erik stayed in the middle. He had to keep its attention. He was weary to the bone; even their approach to the city, shielding against those great missiles the Shadow had hurled at them, had not fatigued him like this. Kari and Ollemar had a better chance at striking the Shadow with their fragments than he did.<br />
<br />
“You cannot defeat all of us, you cowardly horror!” Erik shouted, holding his sun-fragment up before him, and advancing slowly toward the Cathedral. “You are nothing! You are weakness, and failure, and <i>I will not abide you!</i>”<br />
<br />
More tendrils had silently sprouted from the Shadow’s sides. One each snaked slowly toward Kari and Ollemar, while the Shadow’s burning eyes stayed focused on Erik. “I don’t know how they defeated you in the past, or why you didn’t stay gone,” Erik said. “But this is the end of it, one way or the other. Bjarheim is not yours. Bjarheim will never be yours. <i>We</i> will never be yours.”<br />
<br />
Erik felt a tremor in his feet. Was he shaking in fear? No—pebbles were bouncing on the ground around him. The very earth itself was shaking. Then there was a <i>crack</i> as the stones before him erupted into the air, and a gray pillar forced itself out of the ground, blocking his path. Another one shot up on his left side, banging into his arm. For a panicked moment he thought it was a tendril, that he was dead, that the life force would be drained from him—but, no. Whatever the Shadow was doing, these weren’t… part of it.<br />
<br />
He couldn’t see the Shadow now. The pillars were far enough apart to squeeze past, but more and more were rising up every moment, a whole forest of them.<br />
<br />
The Shadow was using some magic to bring these stones from the ground. And Erik knew exactly how to fight back.<br />
<br />
He opened himself to the <i>methar</i>, and wove a flat blade of violet light. The fae lived deep underground, among the dirt and rock. Their magic had carved the vast caverns they lived in.<br />
<br />
With a slash, Erik’s blade cut through the base of the pillar before him, as if it were water. The top of the pillar slid aside and crashed to the ground. There were still other pillars, but now Erik could get past this one.<br />
<br />
The Shadow might have mastery over the ground… but it did not control the sky.<br />
<br />
Erik hoped to all the hells that Ollemar and Kari were all right. He stepped onto the pillar before him, and slashed the next one higher, cutting himself a stairway, zigzagging across the square.<br />
<br />
And then he was almost directly above the Shadow, its tendrils whipping through their air around Ollemar to the left and Kari to the right. They each still had their sun-fragment, but as Erik watched from his perch atop the last pillar, Kari dodged one of the tendrils and hurled her fragment at the Shadow. It fell short by inches, teetering on the edge of the crater. Ollemar lashed his staff out at the Shadow, hurling his own sun-fragment at it.<br />
<br />
A third tendril, smaller and finer, whipped into the path of the sun-fragment, and there was something gray in its grip—a piece of stone, which deflected the sun-fragment. The golden orb fell straight down into the crater below the Shadow… and nudged up against one of the trunklike tendrils down there.<br />
<br />
The Shadow’s scream this time made the first one seem like a polite cough. Erik would have dropped his own fragment if it hadn’t been bound to his hand with golden threads of ironsong. He screamed in return, trying to drown out the pain surging through his mind.<br />
<br />
The trembling ground dislodged Kari’s sun-fragment, which rolled down into the pit and fetched up against another one of the tendrils.<br />
<br />
The screaming got worse. Erik’s brain tried to tear itself from his skull.<br />
<br />
But the Shadow wasn’t dying. It would recover, given enough time. Erik could feel it.<br />
<br />
He stood, knees shaking, the pain like knives driven into his ears, and jumped.<br />
<br />
The Shadow’s burning embers flashed up at him. Erik watched them the whole way down as they grew in his sight.<br />
<br />
He held his hand out before him.<br />
<br />
The infinite sun and the eternal darkness collided.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/11/bjarheims-shadow-part-xxii-conclusion.html">Part XXII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-17769835481979221392014-09-03T23:50:00.000-07:002014-11-03T00:00:32.792-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XXHere it is, part 20! The story needs at least one more part, possibly two. Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">XVII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xviii.html">XVIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-xix.html">XIX</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XX</b></div>
<br />
Erik couldn’t move. <i>Lift your damned feet!</i> he screamed at himself, to no avail. Father Bernhard—the Shadow—whatever it was—spread his smile even wider and rose easily from the bed. “It’s such a wonderful feeling, being within this shell. Ages in the cold, buried in frost, alone in the mountains, left me in such a state.” He paced forward, stretching out his arms as if after a nap. Erik instinctively backed up, bumping into Finnar, who moved back as well. They retreated slowly down the hallway as Bernhard stepped through the door. “I so appreciate you coming here to me,” Bernhard growled. “It will make this so much easier.”<br />
<br />
“Look out!” Ollemar shouted, as Bernhard raised his right hand and a beam of pure blackness sprang forth from it. The beam struck Erik’s shields full force. The first two shattered into golden fragments and dissipated instantly; the third cracked, and began to unravel.<br />
<br />
Erik himself was jolted backward by the blast, though he kept his feet. Bernhard cackled and raised his left hand, but Kari shouted and leapt in front of Erik before the monster fired. The blast ripped away Kari’s shields and left her with only tatters. She stumbled back, and Erik caught her.<br />
<br />
He didn’t want to know what would happen if one of those blasts hit them without a shield. “<i>RUN!</i>”<br />
<br />
The others didn’t need to be told twice. Bernhard was raising his right hand again. Erik flung an entire brace of golden ironsong projectiles at Bernhard. A black shield, completely obscuring Bernhard’s body, appeared before him, instantly absorbing each projectile as it struck.<br />
<br />
After a moment, the shield vanished, revealing Bernhard’s psychotic grin. He cackled madly.<br />
<br />
But it had bought them some time. Finnar, Kari, and Ollemar had already made it halfway down the hall. Now Erik stood, alone, only ten feet from the monster that had consumed Bernhard. And there was no time to weave anything new.<br />
<br />
Bernhard raised his right hand, but then his smile faltered and he flinched. The black shield appeared again, and a swarm of projectiles careened past Erik’s head and vanished into the shield.<br />
<br />
“Erik, run!” Kari shouted from down the hall. He’d bought them time, and now they were returning the favor. Erik sprinted, faster than he’d ever done before, away from Bernhard.<br />
<br />
Something slammed into his back just as he reached Ollemar. Erik felt the shields behind him shattering, felt the cold sting of the Shadow’s power clawing at his back. Any stronger, and the blast would have gotten through. Finnar grabbed Erik by the torso and lifted him bodily into the air, then threw him five yards onto the landing. Kari was there in an instant, while Finnar put his back to Bernhard. The next beam hit him squarely, tearing away all three shields, but Finnar made it into the landing.<br />
<br />
Ollemar shouted at them to get downstairs. He stepped to one side of the landing and shouted at Bernhard, then sprang aside like a grasshopper. A black beam tore through the air where he’d been standing, and punched explosively through the wall beyond, spraying the staircase with fragments of wood and plaster. Erik covered his face just in time, and came away with only some scratches on his hands.<br />
<br />
And then they were all careening down the stairs, bruised but alive, with Bernhard’s cackling laughter following them. “We can’t fight that,” Finnar grunted as they came out into the entryway again.<br />
<br />
“The beam can be dodged,” Ollemar said, barely maintaining his calm. “The farther we can keep from it, the easier it is to see coming.”<br />
<br />
“Dodging’s… our only choice,” Erik said between gasps for breath. Panic had nearly seized hold of him; only the faces of his companions kept him sane. “I can’t weave shields… fast enough to block that beam of his.”<br />
<br />
Footsteps creaked from upstairs. Finnar pushed Erik and Kari through the stone archway into the Cathedral’s dining hall. “Let’s keep on the move, then. If he can’t see us, he can’t hit us.”<br />
<br />
“We should ambush him,” Kari said as they all ducked behind one of the dining hall’s long tables, though it was poor cover. That black beam of Bernhard’s had blasted straight through a wooden wall upstairs. Maybe stone would stop it? The bottom floor of the Cathedral had stone walls.<br />
<br />
“Now what?” Kari said.<br />
<br />
“I will distract him,” Ollemar said. “I am the fastest, and have the best chance of dodging him. Erik, you must make more projectiles. He wouldn’t need the shield if your missiles weren’t a danger to him.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, but how do we get them past the shield?” Erik started weaving; he’d done enough of these violet-and-emerald darts, wrapped tight with golden ironsong, that he barely even had to concentrate. Making one only took ten or fifteen seconds.<br />
<br />
A <i>thump</i> reverberated around them as a black beam passed through the air over their heads. Kari screamed, and scuttled over to hide behind a large iron cabinet full of dishware. Ollemar vaulted out from behind the table and threw his last magical projectile at Bernhard, who stood in the entryway, smiling malevolently and casually raising a shield to absorb the missile.<br />
<br />
Finnar glanced up over the edge of the table, then ducked down. “Get through that door,” he whispered to Erik, pointing at a wooden door, shut tight but hopefully not locked, a few yards away. Erik had no idea where it led.<br />
<br />
“Don’t die,” Erik pleaded, and started crawling across the stone floor toward it. Finnar reached up onto the table, grabbed a heavy pewter salt cellar, and then stood and flung it across the room at Bernhard.<br />
<br />
Erik had reached the door, but hadn’t yet reached up to try and open it. He could see the possessed priest through gaps in the tables. Either Bernhard—the Shadow—had never expected such an attack, or did not fear it, because he did not raise his shield. Instead he laughed as the salt cellar sailed through the air, flinging white grains in every direction as it spun.<br />
<br />
Then the sound of his laughter cut off, replaced by an “oof” as it struck him in the chest. He stumbled back, caroming off the archway and taking a moment to steady himself. But his smile returned. “Destroy this body if you wish,” he shouted at them. “I will simply take another. Perhaps one of yours!”<br />
<br />
Erik glanced up at the wall beside the door. There was a scorch mark where that last beam had struck, but the stone was otherwise undamaged. Finnar had told him to get through the door, but… they couldn’t defeat the Shadow if they split up. They had to stay together, work together. Could Bernhard make more than one shield at a time? What if they attacked him from opposite directions at once? What if… “Da! Throw again!” Erik shouted, weaving another projectile in record time and holding it up for Finnar to see.<br />
<br />
Finnar nodded, and scanned for more ammunition. There was nothing so massive as the salt cellar remaining on the table he crouched behind, and there was an open gap between that table and the next one. Finnar was not fast; Bernhard would have a clear shot.<br />
<br />
Ollemar had heard Erik’s call, though. He’d alighted atop a table across the room, and slipped his staff through the loop of a breadbasket sitting on it. It was woven of wooden slats, and would weigh almost nothing, but Erik didn’t need it to be a weapon. He just needed a distraction.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn snapped his staff up, flinging the basket toward Bernhard. This time, the Shadow-possessed priest was ready, and blasted the basket out of the air with his black beam. Erik stood and hurled one of his own magical projectiles right at that exact moment.<br />
<br />
The Shadow saw the projectile coming and raised its shield, a fraction of a second too late. Erik’s missile slipped in past the edge of the shield and clipped Bernhard’s arm. A crystalline ringing overlain with a nails-on-glass shriek filled the air, and a cloud of purplish gas erupted from where Bernhard had been struck.<br />
<br />
“He’s wounded!” Erik shouted to the others, in case it wasn’t obvious. Bernhard screamed, and stumbled forward into the room, raising <i>both</i> hands and spraying his black beams around at random. The air became icily cold; Erik frantically pushed at the door behind him and slipped through into what looked like the larder. The walls here were stone as well; as long as he stayed out of the doorway, he’d be safe from the beams of shadow.<br />
<br />
But what of the others? He couldn’t cower in here, and there was no other door out. There were narrow slit windows on the wall, admitting light, but too narrow to slip through. Maybe he could widen them, using his magic, given enough time…<br />
<br />
No. It was time to stop running. Erik wove a half-dozen golden missiles, hoping beyond hope that the others weren’t dead, hoping they’d be able to hold off Bernhard for just a few more seconds. The noise of stone being scorched and wooden tables being blasted to smithereens stopped abruptly, though now Erik heard the telltale crackling of flames. Smoke began to sting his nose.<br />
<br />
There was no more time to waste. Erik leapt into the doorway and ran into the dining hall, hurling two of his magical projectiles forward before he could even see anything. Bernhard was still more or less where he’d stood, but he had his shield out. Erik’s first missile went wide, while the second connected, dissolving into the blackness. One of the tables, the one Finnar had been hiding behind, was on fire, and he didn’t see Finnar anywhere. Kari was still crouching behind the iron dish cabinet, while Ollemar had somehow made his way up to the ceiling and was now perched atop a swinging chandelier that had been partly blasted away.<br />
<br />
“Get outside!” Erik shouted, and threw another missile at Bernhard. Three left. Bernhard raised the shield again, easily blocking the projectile, but he seemed slower somehow. The purple miasma erupting from his arm had abated somewhat, but the wound looked horrific, a tangled black mass of flesh and… <i>tendrils</i> of some kind, perhaps the Shadow trying to claw its way out. The other priests had only had the little mass of blackness in their throats, while Bernhard’s very veins had been infiltrated by the loathsome Shadow.<br />
<br />
And each time Erik attacked him, Bernhard went on the defensive for a few moments. He had to make the most of that. Erik ran to Kari and grabbed her hand. He half expected her to be terrified, but no; she was <i>furious</i>. But she had no way to attack Bernhard from here, so she’d had to cower behind the cabinet. It too had been scorched by Bernhard’s beams, and the glass front had completely shattered, but the main structure of it was intact.<br />
<br />
Bernhard growled from across the room and raised his hand. Erik flung another missile at him, interrupting Bernhard’s attack and forcing him to raise his shield again. “We’ve got to get outside! Where’s Da?”<br />
<br />
Kari pointed overhead. There was a window there, also shattered, but now that Erik looked at it, he realized it hadn’t been from Bernhard. Finnar must have leapt through it. <i>Leaving us behind?</i> Erik recoiled from the thought. His father, bailing out on them?<br />
<br />
There must have been a reason. Erik shook his head. They had to get outside. He threw a fifth bolt at Bernhard, rocking the priest back on his heels again. “Climb, now!” Erik shouted, pushing Kari upward. She took the hint and clawed her way up the side of the cabinet, finding any foothold she could in the immense stone bricks of the Cathedral’s wall.<br />
<br />
Erik only had one missile left. Ollemar was still up on the chandelier, his staff held out before him. He’d woven a faint emerald missile with his Brandrinn magic, but it wouldn’t be even a fraction as powerful as Erik’s bolts. It might not hurt Bernhard at all, even if it could get past his shield.<br />
<br />
There had to be a way to buy time. Erik could climb out the window, but how would Ollemar escape? Erik could keep Bernhard off-balance, but more than a few seconds and Bernhard would be able to get off another shot. He was going to have to try something else.<br />
<br />
“You want to kill me?” Erik screamed, stepping out from behind the cabinet, presenting a clear target. “Why? What did we ever do to you? What did my family, my city, my people ever do to you to make us deserve this?”<br />
<br />
Bernhard had been about to raise his hand again, but paused. The shadowy tentacles writhing through the skin on his upper arm wiggled more intensely as he laughed. “Boy, what do you know of the world? Beyond the sky, there is nothing but blackness. Your pinprick of a world is an offense to the great dark, and I will see it undone!”<br />
<br />
Erik walked steadily toward Bernhard until only a stone’s throw separated them. “You haven’t succeeded before now,” he said. “And you never will!”<br />
<br />
“FOOL!” Bernhard roared. “I—”<br />
<br />
Erik did not wait for Bernhard—the Shadow—to finish. He sprinted toward Bernhard, holding his ironsong missile high. He wasn’t going to throw it this time.<br />
<br />
Bernhard cut off with a growl, and raised his shield. Erik didn’t know what would happen if he touched it, but he remembered Aiar. <i>For Aiar,</i> he thought, and swung his missile at Bernhard’s face, arcing it over the top of the shield.<br />
<br />
The shield vanished before he connected, because Ollemar’s staff cracked Bernhard on the side of the head right at that moment. He screamed, and Erik plunged his last weapon into Bernhard’s skull.<br />
<br />
The very air itself shook, as if a gong the size of a mountain had been rung by a hammer the size of a city. The shriek that accompanied it froze Erik’s bones. All this he perceived in the fraction of a second before Father Bernhard exploded, a wave of black and purple and gold and green and violet all tangled together, coruscating outward. Erik was flung through the air and crashed painfully into an upturned trestle table.<br />
<br />
The sound vanished. Erik breathed hard, aching all over, wondering what was broken. He slowly drew himself into a sitting position, and though he had scrapes and pains aplenty, he could still move. He blinked tears and dust out of his eyes, and looked up.<br />
<br />
Floating in the center of the room was a grotesque, distorted humanoid shape, twice as tall as any man he’d ever seen, but made entirely of black shadow and whorls of purple gas. Two fiery embers burned in its head, ghastly eyes that Erik thought would burn right through him if he stared too long.<br />
<br />
“THE PITIFUL BODY IS DISCARDED,” the voice said. “I HAVE ALL THE POWER I NEED. NOW, THE END COMES.”<br />
<br />
Erik wasn’t waiting around to discover what that meant. He ran for the door as the air in the room seemed to freeze solid behind him. What <i>was</i> that thing? What had they unleashed? Was that the very Shadow itself? How could it possibly be stopped?<br />
<br />
He’d been inside the Cathedral so long that the sunlight outside seared his eyes. He blinked away the pain, while stepping toward what seemed like some kind of black mass ahead of him—<br />
<br />
It was Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
As his vision cleared, Erik realized that hundreds of people stood around the great square at the heart of the city. He recognized some of them, but there were more people here than he’d ever seen gathered at one time. They were still streaming into the square, in fact, clogging the open space before the Cathedral.<br />
<br />
At the front of the crowd, Kari stood over Finnar, who was propped up on his elbows. One of his feet was burned black—no, not burned. <i>So that’s why he fled.</i> It was the Shadow’s corruption, the same thing they’d seen in Aiar, before he…<br />
<br />
“Da!” Erik screamed, and ran forward. He collapsed on the ground next to his father. “What happened?”<br />
<br />
“Inside,” Finnar huffed, his breath labored. “When he went mad. One of the beams grazed my foot.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar came loping up beside Erik, looking none the worse for wear. He gasped sharply when he saw Finnar’s blackened foot. “Better that than his heart,” the Brandrinn said. “Cut it off, now, and he may yet live.”<br />
<br />
An ominous groaning sound came from behind them. Erik looked back at the Cathedral, as the Shadow creature pushed forth through its doors, cracking them off their hinges. The wood splintered and charred, then dissolved into dust. “YOU HAVE BROUGHT ME MUCH TO FEED UPON,” the creature shouted across the square. “I WILL DEVOUR YOU LAST, LITTLE HUMAN.”<br />
<br />
Erik expected the crowd to panic and scream, but they did not. There was a hardness in the eyes of those around him. “Get him to a healer and get that foot off,” one of the folk said, a tall, pale old woman. A couple of other folks lurched forward and helped Finnar to his good foot, taking care to avoid touching the other one. The old woman looked down at Erik. “Tell us what to do, son. Tell us how to fight it.”<br />
<br />
Erik watched his father go for a moment, then resolutely turned back to face the Shadow. It floated ten feet off the ground, and its body had begun to slowly extrude black tendrils.<br />
<br />
Whatever the people of Bjarheim had gone through in their long slumber, now they were ready to fight. Erik knew his magic could hurt the Shadow, but what could he do against that monstrosity?<br />
<br />
The people of Bjarheim couldn’t weave magic. The <i>methar</i> of the fae, the Brandrinn’s Seed. But…<br />
<br />
Erik stood tall and squarely faced the Shadow. “We will <i>sing.</i>”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/11/bjarheims-shadow-part-xxi.html">Part XXI</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-52950625909024249142014-08-30T14:55:00.000-07:002014-08-30T14:55:53.756-07:00Coming soon!THE SILVER WAR is now in its final revision pass, and should get published pretty soon™. In the meantime, I'm finishing up BJARHEIM'S SHADOW. Expect to see PART 20 up in the next couple of days!<br>
Also, when all is said and done, I'm going to put BJARHEIM up as an omnibus edition on Amazon (and possibly other places). Reading twenty-odd chapters through Blogger may be some people's idea of a good time, but I think providing it as an ebook is probably a better approach. I'll let you know when that happens.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-48224711464512415872014-04-01T17:07:00.000-07:002014-04-01T17:07:08.023-07:00A short delayI've pushed back on finishing BJARHEIM'S SHADOW a little bit, because I wanted to bang through revising the last few chapters of THE SILVER WAR, so that it can start going to beta readers. This is what happens when you only have 1-2 hours per day to work on writing! I dream of a day when this is my full-time job... I'ma write so dang fast... <b>*sighs dreamily*</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-26804063856623216362014-03-18T00:22:00.001-07:002014-09-03T23:50:40.272-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIXI know I said that there were only two parts left, but it's likely to end up with twenty-one total rather than twenty. Funny how these things grow; it's like they have minds of their own. I probably shouldn't have installed that artificial mind, I guess...<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">XVII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xviii.html">XVIII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XIX</b></div>
<br />
The door creaked open. It seemed unnaturally loud, echoing in the city’s emptiness. Normally the square behind him would be filled with noise: merchants barking, people chatting, children running about. Now there was nothing but the wind and the careful tread of Erik’s companions.<br />
<br />
The cathedral’s vestibule stood cold and empty. There was a layer of dust on the floor that would give the priests conniptions if they saw it. Erik stepped lightly, trying not to kick up motes that might make him sneeze or obscure his vision.<br />
<br />
Not that there was much to see. “There’s so much of the Shadow outside. Why hasn’t it gotten in?” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“Maybe it’s all upstairs,” Kari ventured, peering up the staircase. “I can go look—”<br />
<br />
“Don’t be daft,” Finnar snapped. “We stay together, no matter what. Ground floor first.” Nobody argued. They trod slowly through the dust, which puffed up into curlicues despite their efforts.<br />
<br />
The whole ground floor of the cathedral was deserted, including the entire great hall. “Must be upstairs,” Finnar said once they’d returned to the entryway.<br />
<br />
“Who wants to go first?” Erik said, hoping someone would volunteer. The stairs were wide enough for any two of them except Finnar, so he led the way while Ollemar trailed behind, staff held out warily.<br />
<br />
Erik had taken the time to re-weave several new layers of shields for all of them, and had equipped himself and Ollemar with double handfuls of magical projectiles, hanging from their belts with threads of golden song. He had no idea what to expect in here. The Shadow’s hold over the city seemed to be weakening, but there was still that vast black cloud over the Cathedral. Erik could feel an ominous, malevolent presence lurking in the very air around him.<br />
<br />
They came out onto the landing on the upper floor. The corridor before them stretched into darkness; the wall sconces had been snuffed out and all the doors were closed. “D’you think the brothers are all still in their rooms?” Kari whispered.<br />
<br />
“Only one way to tell.” Finnar stepped cautiously to the nearest door and twisted the knob. It clicked quietly. He pushed it open with a creak that made Erik wince.<br />
<br />
Dimness reigned within. The priests of the Cathedral kept simple rooms, so there was only a dresser, a bed, a writing desk, and a side table. But the windows were large and ornate, and should have been flooding the room with light in this midday hour. Instead, everything was suffused with a sickly, purplish cast, like deep wine gone bad.<br />
<br />
“Anything?” Ollemar said quietly.<br />
<br />
Finnar shook his head, then froze. Erik could hear a low thrum, which began to rise in pitch and intensity. It changed to a growl, then a moan, and then, prickling the skin on Erik’s neck, a deep, cackling laughter.<br />
<br />
“Back!” Finnar shouted, and heaved himself away from it. A black shape lunged forth and glanced off his shields, knocking him down. Erik barely dodged aside, pulling Kari with him. The shape was inchoate and shifting, and swirled in the air beneath the corridor’s high ceiling.<br />
<br />
“DIE!” it shrieked, and dove at them. Erik hurled a bolt at it, which bounced off, but it seemed to divert the wraith momentarily. The bolt’s weaving came loose, and it spattered itself along the wall and faded away. The creature swirled back up to the ceiling, then screamed and dove again.<br />
<br />
This time Ollemar smacked it with the end of his staff, which had one of Erik’s missiles firmly bound to it. The missile came partly loose and flopped around by a few of the golden ironsong threads holding it to the staff. The wraith was again deflected, and retreated for only a few moments before racing down at them.<br />
<br />
“Why isn’t it dying?” Kari shouted over the din of shrieks and cackles.<br />
<br />
“I don’t know, but—” Erik winced and held up the shield on his arm as the shadow creature crashed down into him, rattling his teeth and leaving a nimbus of bitterly cold air around him. His gaze caught on the open door. “In there!”<br />
<br />
No one needed to be told twice. They barrelled inside, and Finnar slammed the door shut behind them just as the wraith smashed into it, popping splinters from the frame. “I don’t think it likes us,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
The room was still veiled in a grotesque bruise-purple shadow. Erik looked at the bed and noticed a shape there—a man, lying stock-still and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His back was arched, as if he’d been seized by some agony and then paralyzed. Erik deliberately put one foot before the other and came to the man’s side. He was breathing, in sporadic short puffs, his chest barely moving. But alive, definitely alive.<br />
<br />
What shocked Erik most, when he was able to see them, were the ghostly strands of shadow trailing from the man’s mouth. They were barely visible in the dimness, so Erik wove a ball of violet light, fae energy drawn from the <i>methar</i> in his mind. Such a simple task, now.<br />
<br />
Finnar stayed pinned to the door, holding it shut against the Wraith’s attacks, while Ollemar and Kari stepped close. “Hurry up, lad, whatever it is you’re doing!” Erik’s Da shouted.<br />
<br />
The black threads flowed in an unending torrent. “What are they?” Kari said, leaning in close.<br />
<br />
“Don’t touch,” Ollemar warned. He cautiously poked at the threads with his staff; they flowed around it but seemed otherwise unaffected. “It looks—it <i>feels</i> like it’s draining the life from him.” He paused, then touched the man’s cold, exposed hand. “I can feel it. That <i>thing</i> is using him up.”<br />
<br />
There had to be some way to stop it. Erik sang one pattern after another, trying to slice at the black threads, trying to staunch the flow, but nothing worked. He even tried pushing the man’s mouth shut with his hand, but the pressure grew and in a few seconds it forced its way open as a whorling black mass erupted forth. The wraith’s shrieks outside intensified.<br />
<br />
“Something in there’s the source of this,” Ollemar said. “We have to get in and stop it!”<br />
<br />
“How? Cut him open? How will <i>that</i> save him?”<br />
<br />
“Maybe it’s just some Shadow in there,” Kari said. “Like a parasite. If you could get it out—”<br />
<br />
“I tried that with Aiar. It—it didn’t work,” Erik said, hesitating when he felt like his voice was about to break with sorrow.<br />
<br />
“Well try <i>something!</i>” she shouted.<br />
<br />
The door was cracking under repeated impacts. Finnar grunted and glowered over his shoulder at them. “Any day now!”<br />
<br />
Erik clenched his teeth and focused on the old man lying before him, still frozen in a tormented rictus. He didn’t want to touch the shadow threads, although he wasn’t sure that they would harm him—but how was he supposed to get at whatever was possessing him? <i>Well, here goes nothing.</i> He jammed his fingers into the man’s mouth.<br />
<br />
He was met at once by a burning fire on his fingers, and yanked his hand back with a screech. “Are you crazy?” Kari yelped.<br />
<br />
“Apparently.” The pain had already vanished and there was no redness—or worse, blackness—on his fingers. So the threads themselves weren’t harmful. They could scald his hand, and somehow penetrate the door, but the wraith-thing attached to the end of the threads was stuck on the other side, trying to smash its way through? It made no sense.<br />
<br />
Erik, essentially at random, wove a thin blade of light using all three magics, and swung it through the black threads in midair. The threads scattered apart, then reformed into a single stream, unaffected. So if one end of the threads was solid—the wraith—then what about the other end?<br />
<br />
He released the blade and wove a small skin of magic around his hand, like a glove. Once more, he tried to shove his hand into the old man’s mouth. This time there was only the faintest tingle as the black threads flowed around the shield he’d woven. There was a counterpressure trying to push his hand out of the way, but he was able to overpower it.<br />
<br />
The old man didn’t have an especially large mouth, but Erik’s hands were small and fine, not huge meat-sacks like his Da and brother had. He grimaced as his hand, shielded by his magic, pushed in past the old man’s tongue. The man still didn’t move, his eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling. <i>How did I get here, shoving my hand down a priest’s throat?</i><br />
<br />
And then his fingers brushed against something soft and giving; not the elastic warmth of flesh, but more like a tarry mass. Any further movement was blocked by the narrowing of the throat and jaw, and Erik couldn’t get a grip on the thing. He wiggled his fingers, trying to gain purchase on whatever it was, panic rising as the pounding on the door grew again in intensity. “It’s almost through!” Finnar shouted, near hysteria.<br />
<br />
Erik felt at the thing once more. He felt something more rigid slide past one of his fingers—where had it gone? <i>There it is!</i> He pinched it between his forenail and middle finger, and as gently as possible began to draw it up. It slipped away once, twice—he grabbed it again—and then got a stronger hold. He yanked his hand free, scraping his skin painfully on the old man’s teeth.<br />
<br />
The thing in his hand looked like a ball of boiling shadow. The dark threads that connected it to the wraith immediately began to thin and wither. Still, the pounding on the door did not slow; if anything, it became even more intense and frantic. If the wraith had been drawing its strength from this frail old man, why wasn’t it weakening?<br />
<br />
The door was going to shatter any second now. Erik had to cut the thing off. The little glove of light on his hand had too many gaps, so he wove a small bowl shape, violet and emerald threads bound together with golden song. He put the ball of shadow into it, then wove a second, inverted bowl and sewed them together.<br />
<br />
The threads madly tried to evade the seal, but the instant the last gap closed, the pounding on the door stopped. The wraith-ball was sealed in.<br />
<br />
As the seconds wore on without any resumption of pounding upon the door, the others breathed sighs of relief. Finnar cautiously edged away from the door, which teetered in its frame, still held fast by only a fraction of one hinge. “You took yer time with that, boy,” he said, not unkindly.<br />
<br />
Kari and Ollemar gazed down at the ball of shadow. To Kari, the ball would appear to simply float above Erik’s palm. Ollemar peered at the emerald threads. “A sort of cage,” he muttered. “But what is that thing inside it?”<br />
<br />
“Whatever it is, we need to figure out a way to destroy it,” Erik said. “I don’t know if the cage will hold it forever, or if it can break out somehow.”<br />
<br />
The sky outside was still a dusky purple, despite only a few minutes having passed. “The Shadow’s still out there… or somewhere in here,” Kari said. “And if the other priests all have this same… thing… inside them…”<br />
<br />
The prospect of going through all that again make Erik shiver. “We have to find the source, whatever it is.”<br />
<br />
“I’d wager all the city’s gold that it’s close,” Finnar said. He looked worn out, his head drooping. “It must be, to have guards like this lying about.”<br />
<br />
Erik wanted to go look out in the corridor again. He wove a second, larger cage, and put the first one inside it, then set the whole contraption on the side table. With any luck it would remain confined long enough.<br />
<br />
Out in the corridor, the other doors remained shut, the sconces dark. There was no noise from within. “These are all the priests’ chambers, aren’t they?”<br />
<br />
Finnar nodded. “Aye. There’s not as many as there used to be.”<br />
<br />
“Father Bernhard’s the chief of them, right?”<br />
<br />
“They haven’t got a chief. They all act as equals.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, but you’ve seen Bernhard, the way he talks to the others. Everyone hops to his tune.”<br />
<br />
“I suppose,” Finnar said. “What are you getting at?”<br />
<br />
“If the Shadow can put its guards in these men… I’d guess it’d take the strongest one for itself. Which is Father Bernhard’s room?”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
If there were possessed men in the other rooms, Erik couldn’t tell by listening; all was silent behind the doors. No one wanted to open one and see, lest they be set upon by another wraith.<br />
<br />
But if Erik’s guess was right, they’d have to face <i>something</i> when they found Father Bernhard. Something even worse than that wraith. Unhelpfully, the doors weren’t labelled, and they all looked the same. Finnar suggested that Bernhard’s room might be the one nearest the far end of the hall.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t. It was some other possessed priest, and within seconds a wraith erupted, shrieking for their deaths. At least this time destroying it was easier; the thing had barely emerged from the shadows by the time Erik clawed the little swirling ball of darkness from the priest’s throat. He’d prepared the cage in advance, and clapped it around the ball. The wraith, which had been repeatedly pummeling Ollemar in the confined space, vanished in a puff of smoke. The Brandrinn picked himself up and wiped blood from his nose. “Can we <i>please</i> find Father Bernhard’s room next?”<br />
<br />
“There’s a dozen other doors at least,” Kari said. “Do <i>you</i> have any idea how to tell what’s behind a locked door?”<br />
<br />
“Even Brandrinn can’t see through doors,” Finnar grunted.<br />
<br />
“But they can see through windows,” Erik said. “What if we look in from outside?”<br />
<br />
Kari stared at him. “Outside? How are we supposed to do that? The windows are twenty feet off the ground, and there’s no ledges or anything.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar tapped his staff on the floor, grabbing their attention. “I’d rather do that than fight another one of those damnable things.” He pointed up at the ceiling. There was a small window, letting in dim, purplish light, that Erik hadn’t noticed. “I can fit through that and look down over the eaves. Tell me what Father Bernhard looks like.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Finnar protested that it was too dangerous, while Kari looked put out that she wasn’t going to be the one to get to climb up on the roof. Erik was glad to let the Brandrinn do it. Whatever magic Erik might have learned, he wasn’t particularly keen to dangle twenty feet off the ground, with the Shadow itself lurking overhead.<br />
<br />
There was nothing even Ollemar could use to climb up to the window, so he stood his staff on end, somehow climbed atop it without it falling over, then leapt up and caught the bottom edge of the window by his fingertips. It flipped open at a push, and he hauled himself through, then leaned back in and whistled. Finnar tossed the staff up to Ollemar, and he vanished.<br />
<br />
“Let’s hope he never takes a job as a burglar,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t know how Ollemar was going to be able to make out each priest’s features through the window, from the outside, while the Shadow swirled around him. Or even tell them apart; even as long as he’d known the priests of the Cathedral, they all still seemed like interchangeable, white-bearded old men to him.<br />
<br />
The minutes dragged agonizingly on, and Erik felt the Shadow’s oppressive presence grow. Something was coming. Not the wraiths; something worse. The wraiths, at least, seemed content to wait in the rooms where they’d attached themselves to the priests. To what end? Draining the life from them, as they’d done with so many folk out in the city? Was that all the Shadow was, a rapacious parasite seeking sustenance?<br />
<br />
No. It had to be more than that. Erik remembered the madness in Remy’s eyes, out there in the forest, hunting him, wanting to annihilate him. Parasites didn’t send minions out to destroy their enemies.<br />
<br />
A whistle from above jerked Erik back to the present. “Third on the left,” Ollemar hissed, and folded himself through the window. Erik was sure he’d crash to the floor, but he alighted as softly as a leaf.<br />
<br />
“You’d better be right,” Erik said. “We don’t have time to fight any more of those things.” To punctuate this, a groaning creak came from the ceiling above, as if the wooden beams were being put under some enormous stress.<br />
<br />
No one wanted to wait any longer. They hustled to the end of the hall, and faced the door Ollemar indicated. “<i>I’m</i> not opening it,” he said when Erik glanced at him.<br />
<br />
They all exchanged glances. Finnar stepped forward—<br />
<br />
“No,” Erik said. “I have to.”<br />
<br />
He wanted his father to deny him, to insist on going first. Finnar only shook his head and stood aside. Erik’s legs felt like jelly. He knew waiting would only make it worse, so he gulped, turned the handle, and pushed the door open.<br />
<br />
Inside, Father Bernhard lay on his bed, but he sat up the instant Erik saw him. A tickled smile appeared on his lips, waxen and cracked from weeks of dehydration. “Hello, my boy,” came the voice, but it was a grating, gut-wrenching sound Erik had never heard any man make. “I have been looking forward to killing you.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/09/bjarheims-shadow-part-xx.html">Part XX</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-59886334254010562912014-03-17T23:18:00.002-07:002014-03-17T23:18:08.479-07:00Apologies for the delay; those responsible have been sackedHouseguests plus a spate of illness running through the family have knocked me out of my groove, but never fear; part 19 of BJARHEIM'S SHADOW will be up soon.<br />
<br />
And THE SILVER WAR, the sequel to THE QUEEN OF MAGES, should be finished in the next couple of weeks. It's exciting to hear that people I <i>don't</i> know are looking forward to it. ;)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-69250994808493678092014-02-20T23:17:00.000-08:002014-03-18T00:23:09.991-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XVIIIPart 18 is here! Just two more to go. <br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">XVII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XVIII</b></div>
<br />
“Aiar!” Erik screamed, shaking the unmoving fae by the arm, the one that wasn’t enveloped in creeping black rot.<br />
<br />
“Don’t touch him!” Finnar said, yanking Erik back a pace. Erik struggled with all his might, twisting in his father’s grip, desperately trying to reach Aiar again.<br />
<br />
The black rot spread slowly across Aiar’s torso. His whole left arm was black now, twisted and shriveled. The patch on his chest stretched from just beside his neck down to below his armpit. His clothes hissed and shriveled, emitting faint trails of smoke.<br />
<br />
Everyone was staring silently at him. Erik couldn’t tear his gaze away, even to look at Bjarheim, even to make sure that the Shadow was still wounded, that it wasn’t coming after them. Suddenly Aiar gasped sharply and his eyes opened. He let out a brief shriek, then gritted his teeth and jerked his head back and forth.<br />
<br />
“Aiar! Can you hear us?” Ollemar said. He held his staff out before him, as if warding against the Shadow’s taint.<br />
<br />
Aiar grunted and gnashed his teeth. “It’s… agony…” His good arm shook as he wove some magic in the air. The violet threads wavered and spasmed, flashing and sparking. Weakly, Aiar pushed a tangled skein at the black rot on his arm, but it caromed off and dissipated without apparent effect.<br />
<br />
“There must be some way we can heal him,” Kari said. Erik had been thinking the same thing, but words would not come.<br />
<br />
Ollemar shook his head. “Healing is the most complex, the most delicate magic there is. I have no great skill at it myself.”<br />
<br />
“You have to try!” Kari said, grabbing the Brandrinn by the arm and dragging him closer to Aiar. “Do something! Anything!”<br />
<br />
Ollemar grimaced. He glanced back at the city, which gave Erik the strength to do the same. The Shadow still roiled and smoked, but the great wound was still there. Erik—Aiar—had bought them some time.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn looked down at Aiar. He muttered something under his breath, then raised his staff and started drawing emerald lines in the air. These new patterns were thick and elaborate, and very strange to Erik’s eyes. He’d seen nothing like it before.<br />
<br />
The black rot had started to climb Aiar’s neck. His arm had withered away to almost nothing. “Why’s it move so slow?” Erik finally asked, breaking the silence. “When—when Florr got it, it raced all over him in no time.”<br />
<br />
“I—” Aiar grunted again. He was sweating, something Erik had rarely seen. “I am resist—resistant to it,” he said between gasping breaths. “Fae are—are—strong.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar finished his weaving. “That’s the best I can do.” He gently guided the snarl of green light down toward the rot, and gave it one last shove.<br />
<br />
It floated the last few inches and bumped against the corruption. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then the color began to leach from the green threads. Erik wondered if they were somehow drawing the Shadow out of Aiar as they faded to gray.<br />
<br />
But in a few seconds, the threads had all gone the lifeless color of ash. In another moment they disappeared completely. The black rot was unchanged.<br />
<br />
“You do it,” Kari said to Erik. “You can weave all three, right? It’ll have to stop the Shadow, just like it did when it was attacking us!”<br />
<br />
“I don’t have any idea how to weave healing magic!” Erik said, terrified.<br />
<br />
“Copy what Ollemar did. You can’t just do nothing!”<br />
<br />
Erik looked down at Aiar again. The fae was gazing up at him. There was something wild in his expression. Maybe it was just missing the utter control that Aiar normally evinced. This was what Aiar looked like when something was horribly wrong.<br />
<br />
Erik held out his hands and started to weave. He drew violet light out from the <i>methar</i>, and emerald strands from the Seed. He sang the Song of Seeing and wove golden threads to hold it all together, trying to mimic the channel of nourishing energy that Ollemar had made. It would work. It had to.<br />
<br />
“<i>That’s</i> not good,” Finnar said. Erik glanced up from his work.<br />
<br />
The wound in the Shadow was closing.<br />
<br />
Slowly, probingly, tiny shadow tendrils poked around the edge of the hole in the Shadow’s flank. It had shown no interest in them since Erik had attacked it, but if he took much longer, the Shadow would regain its strength and strike at them once more.<br />
<br />
He wove and sang as quickly as he could. Ollemar pointed out where the flows were weak, where it would not support its own weight under the stress of channeling energy through it. And finally it was done, or as done as Erik thought he could make it. “Try it,” Ollemar urged.<br />
<br />
Erik bound the mass of energy to his hand, a mass so bright and fierce that he could hardly stand to look at it. He pushed it down toward Aiar and, being careful not to touch the Shadow’s contamination, let the magic poultice drift down onto Aiar’s skin.<br />
<br />
There was an even brighter blast of light as they connected, and Erik could <i>feel</i> the energy from his weaving flow into Aiar. It was interacting with the corruption in some way, but he could hardly tell how.<br />
<br />
And then the light faded, and for a blessed moment, Erik thought he had done it.<br />
<br />
The blackness was gone from Aiar’s skin… but there was something underneath. Something deeper.<br />
<br />
Aiar did not look relieved. His eyes rolled up in his head for a moment. “It is futile,” he said, gasping after every word. “The corruption is… too deep. It… cannot be stopped.”<br />
<br />
“No! There must be a way!”<br />
<br />
Aiar shook his head weakly. “I… am sorry. You may have… slowed it… a bit. But there… is… nothing…” He lost the power of speech for a moment, and released a great wail of agony. It made Erik’s skin crawl and his heart pound. <i>This can’t happen!</i><br />
<br />
“I need more time,” Erik protested to no one in particular.<br />
<br />
“Time… we don’t have.” Aiar licked at dry lips. “You… made me… a promise once.” Aiar caught Erik’s gaze again. “A… favor. I need… a favor.”<br />
<br />
“What? Yes! Anything!” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“It will… take hours… for this to kill me. The pain… unbear… unbearable. End… end me now… make it end.”<br />
<br />
There was complete silence, save for Aiar’s labored breathing. “No. You can’t ask me to do that!”<br />
<br />
“You… swore to me,” Aiar said. “On your… on your life. Now mine… is at an end. You… you must do this.” He punctuated that with another long wail. Though the blackness had eroded from the surface of Aiar’s skin, the fae’s arm and shoulder were still withered, dry husks, and Erik could see some sort of dark mass pulsing beneath the skin. It looked like it was growing. “Please… now…”<br />
<br />
Erik couldn’t even comprehend what to do. To kill Aiar? His teacher, his mentor? After everything they been through? <i>There MUST be a way!</i><br />
<br />
“There isn’t,” Aiar said abruptly, as if reading his thoughts. “Do it. <i>DO IT!</i>”<br />
<br />
Erik almost reached for the <i>methar</i> again, but stopped. He had no idea how to kill someone with his magic, much less how to do it without causing even more pain.<br />
<br />
“I will do it,” Ollemar said. “Of a time, I’ve had to… prune a branch to keep the tree healthy.”<br />
<br />
Aiar shook his head. “No… the boy… promise…”<br />
<br />
“He’s barely of age,” Finnar said. “You had no business extractin’ promises from the lad. Let my brother do what needs to be done. Take m’boy over there,” he added to Kari. Her face had gone white, but she nodded and pulled on Erik’s arm. He stumbled alongside her until they were a stone’s throw away.<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t want to look, but at the last moment he turned around and watched as Ollemar pushed a mass of magical green light down into Aiar’s chest. Aiar spasmed, gave one last breath, then was still.<br />
<br />
“We will return for him,” Ollemar said, walking closer to Erik but carefully keeping his distance. “I swear it.”<br />
<br />
Swearing. Promises. What good had that done? The only thing Aiar had ever asked of Erik, and he couldn’t do it.<br />
<br />
He looked at Bjarheim again. The Shadow had made more progress in repairing its wound. Another few moments and it would be closed up, and then who knew what would happen?<br />
<br />
He began to weave, and to sing. Rage seethed within him, and the magical arrow he crafted burned with energy. In a few seconds it was done, its threads woven as tightly as Erik had ever made them. He aimed at another section of the Shadow’s morass, and threw.<br />
<br />
The effect was even more pronounced. Another enormous gash ripped itself into the Shadow’s side. The small tendrils that had been repairing the other wound floundered and dissipated.<br />
<br />
“It’s on the run now,” Ollemar said. “We should get closer and finish it off.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know,” Erik said. His voice rang in his ears. Aiar was dead. How? How had they gotten here? He shook it off. “If any of it’s left, hiding in the city, it might come back. We need to destroy it once and for all.”<br />
<br />
“If we can hurt enough of it, there might be more folk in the city that can help,” Kari said. A little color had come back to her cheeks, though she didn’t look at Erik. “I bet that even those who can use only one magic would still be of use. Like Ai—” She stopped. “Last time it was fae and ironspeakers and priests who stopped the Shadow. Maybe they can help now.”<br />
<br />
Erik wanted to scream, to cry, to fall down and curl up and sleep for a decade. Maybe Kari was right, maybe not. But Erik would gladly take part in any plan that let him hurt the Shadow more.<br />
<br />
Wounded as it was, the Shadow did not attack them. Erik hurled bolt after bolt, aiming at the densest, darkest parts of the Shadow. The gashes connected together to form gaping ruptures.<br />
<br />
They walked on toward the city as Erik continued weaving and singing. By now, the entire side of Bjarheim that they could see was practically free of the Shadow, save for occasional small spouts of black fog.<br />
<br />
“Those could be a problem,” Finnar said. The edge of the city was only a few hundred yards away now. “They’re small, hard to hit.”<br />
<br />
“And they look to be moving,” Ollemar observed.<br />
<br />
Indeed they were: those wispy fragments of the Shadow settled onto to the rooftops, then slipped down into the streets and out of sight. Bjarheim wasn’t the biggest city in the world, but finding all those pieces could be a nightmare. And any one of them might elicit the Shadow’s return.<br />
<br />
Erik realized with astonishment that the very edge of the city lay only a few yards ahead of him now. He’d been so focused on distant patches of shadow that he’d hardly noticed.<br />
<br />
After all this time, he was home.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The streets echoed with emptiness. Trees and flowers were blackened and shriveled; a gray patina seemed to overlay everything. Erik scuffed at the cobblestones with his boot, scraping away soot that puffed into the air and was carried away on an unseasonably icy breeze.<br />
<br />
“I was expecting worse,” Finnar said. “The trees’re all dead, but elsewise, the city doesn’t look too bad. Looked way worse from outside.”<br />
<br />
“But where is everyone?” Kari said.<br />
<br />
Erik looked at the nearest house, a stumpy brickwork affair with a slanted tile roof. “Let’s see.”<br />
<br />
The door was latched. Erik found an open window on one side. He climbed through it into dusty dimness, and sat for a moment to let his eyes adjust. “Hello?”<br />
<br />
There was no reply, just the sound of the wind whistling outside. He’d come into the kitchen first. He explored the dining room and entry hall, then went back into the larger of two bedrooms. He stopped, startled.<br />
<br />
Two figures lay on the bed, holding one another. A man and a woman, old. They didn’t seem to be moving. They were in their nightclothes, the bedcovers pulled halfway back. They must have been caught unawares when the Shadow had come, weeks ago. Erik wiped away a sudden brimming of tears, and was about to turn away when the old woman shuddered with a drawn breath.<br />
<br />
Erik yelped and leapt back, then cursed himself for a fool and stepped closer again. The woman’s eyes had fluttered open, and she began turning her head back and forth. Her mouth worked, as if to speak, but her lips were so dry that she couldn’t form words.<br />
<br />
Erik unstopped his waterskin and held it to her lips. She drank a few sips, then coughed. “Wh…who…”<br />
<br />
“It’s all right,” Erik said, trying to sound calm and soothing. “You’ll be all right.” He didn’t know if that was true, but what else could he say?<br />
<br />
He helped her sit up. The skin on her hand was cold, but not terribly so. The man lying beside her hadn’t moved at all. On impulse, Erik touched his hand. It was as cold as ice. He felt at the man’s neck. There was no pulse, no warmth. The Shadow had done him in.<br />
<br />
“What happened?” the old woman asked, after Erik gave her some more water.<br />
<br />
“The Shadow came,” he said. “Have you been here the whole time?”<br />
<br />
“Time?” She was beginning to come to her senses, glancing around in the dimness. “Why… the last thing I remember was going to sleep. We’d had a visit from our son…” At this she looked down at the old man. “Andras? Andras!”<br />
<br />
“I’m… I’m sorry…” Erik couldn’t bear to see her grief. He ran to the front door and threw it open. Ollemar, Finnar, and Kari stood there, looking uneasy.<br />
<br />
“You were gone long enough,” Kari said. “Who was that shouting?”<br />
<br />
He shook his head. Finnar and Kari went in, while Ollemar stayed outside. He seemed uncomfortable with the idea of being indoors.<br />
<br />
Erik could hear the old woman wailing, then Finnar and Kari’s voices calming her down. Erik tried to ignore it, and instead looked skyward. The Shadow seemed to have completely retreated from this part of the city, though he still spotted a few dark, misty remnants drifting along. One of them floated down the street toward him, so he wove a magical bolt and threw it at the fragment. Both bolt and shadow shattered into iridescent shards, and then vanished completely.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, Kari and Finnar returned. “It sounds like she remembers nothing from the Shadow’s whole presence here,” Finnar said. “But her husband… he died at some point. I couldn’t say why.”<br />
<br />
“Maybe he was just old,” Kari suggested.<br />
<br />
Finnar scratched at his beard. “He didn’t seem to have any of the… blackness on him,” he said, darting a glance at Erik. Erik thought of Aiar again, and his heart clenched. “Let’s see who else we can find.”<br />
<br />
They didn’t have to search long. The next house over already had people stirring inside: a younger family, parents and children. They all looked sickly and weak, but they were alive. They, too, had no memory of the Shadow. The next house’s door stood wide open; it was empty. Erik wondered if its inhabitants had managed to flee before the Shadow came, or if they’d met some darker fate.<br />
<br />
All through the neighborhood, the pattern repeated itself. Those who had been old or sick or weak before the Shadow came had almost all died in their beds. It was as if the Shadow had drained the last vestiges of life out of them.<br />
<br />
It enraged Erik to see all this waste and death. But at least the Shadow had made no attack on them since entering the city. Any time he saw the black miasma overhead, he hurled a bolt at it, and it withered away. The leftover fragments that floated around seemed harmless, but he destroyed them all anyway.<br />
<br />
The Shadow above them grew thicker and darker as they closed in on the center of the city. His shots were becoming less effective. The Shadow retreated a shorter distance each time.<br />
<br />
“Its defenses strengthen,” Ollemar observed. “We may yet meet some new threat.”<br />
<br />
“I pray otherwise,” Finnar said. “Be on guard.”<br />
<br />
Kari slipped her hand into Erik’s as they walked and gave a quick squeeze. He’d hoped that she, at least, would have found some pleasure in being back in the city. Maybe there was a little joy on her face, but it was swamped by grief and fear. Erik knew how she felt.<br />
<br />
They made it to the central district, where most of the shops and taverns and trade-houses were clustered. The spire of the Cathedral loomed over all, and from here Erik could plainly see that the Shadow had fixated upon it. A vast, boiling cloud of blackness was concentrated upon the spire, nearly obscuring it. Erik could feel a dire presence inside the Cathedral. It was almost as if the heart of the Shadow itself were visible through the ancient stone walls.<br />
<br />
Finnar put his hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Are you ready, boy?”<br />
<br />
Erik gulped and nodded. The last time he’d gone into the Cathedral, Kari had been chasing him, all those months ago. Everything had been easier. Sweeter. Now the air tasted like ash.<br />
<br />
Erik stepped up to the Cathedral’s great oaken front door, and grasped the handle.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-xix.html">Part XIX</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-88464233939196317162014-02-13T10:21:00.000-08:002014-02-20T23:17:43.460-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XVIIIt's a nice feeling, being back in the groove. Enjoy part XVII! There's only a couple of chapters left before the story draws to its end.<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">XVI</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XVII</b></div>
<br />
They came to a halt when Erik was able to discern the spire of the Cathedral. Bjarheim, in the distance, was a little wider than his outstreched hand. The Shadow’s black miasma draped across the city, choking the life out of it.<br />
<br />
They hadn’t gone another hundred yards when an enormous, smoky tendril lurched upward from the city and began flailing in their direction.<br />
<br />
The Shadow, it seemed, was eager to greet them.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
“Let our test begin,” Aiar said as the clouds of shadow raced toward them.<br />
<br />
Three roiling bursts of darkness had detached from the tendril after a few seconds and arced high into the air, like rocks hurled by a catapult. But at their apogee they angled sharply downward, coming straight for Erik and his companions.<br />
<br />
Erik hurled a magical bolt at them, and though it darted into the sky, the shadow clouds seemed to sense it coming and dodged aside. “Again, when they’re closer!” Ollemar urged him.<br />
<br />
“Get behind me,” Finnar grunted. “I’ll block the first one. Girl, you stay right behind, and step in if I fall.” Kari nodded, eyes to the sky.<br />
<br />
“Da, no!” Erik said reflexively.<br />
<br />
“I’m expendable,” Finnar said, keeping calm. “Just think of me as a meat shield.” His eyes twinkled a little.<br />
<br />
Erik tried to protest, but Aiar pulled on his shoulder. “Now is not the time for arguing! This first strike may determine our fates.”<br />
<br />
Erik saw no choice. He looked up at the falling clouds, closing rapidly. He readied another projectile and handed it off to Aiar, who could not see its Brandrinn or ironsong components, but could still manipulate it by the threads of fae energy woven into it. Erik gave the next one to Ollemar, and made a third for himself.<br />
<br />
“Hold another moment,” Ollemar said. Erik’s gut clenched as the black clouds hurtled earthward like meteors. “Now!”<br />
<br />
All three of them flung their missiles skyward at once. Erik realized even as it left his hands that he’d been too hasty, and his shot angled wide. He cursed, but his breath caught when one of the descending shadow clouds dodged aside to avoid Aiar’s missile, and crashed right into Erik’s.<br />
<br />
There was a radiant blast of light, and iridescent shards flared out into a sunburst. The shadow cloud was gone.<br />
<br />
But there were still two more: Ollemar’s shot had missed as well. There was no time to weave again. “Brace yourselves!” Finnar called out.<br />
<br />
Everyone gathered in a wedge behind him. Erik planted his feet and gritted his teeth.<br />
<br />
The first shadow cloud struck Finnar’s shield, exploding into shards and making the ground tremble. Erik kept his balance, holding to his father’s belt, but then a moment later the second one hit. Erik lost his grip and was knocked back into Aiar, who steadied him.<br />
<br />
“Is everyone all right?” the fae shouted. Erik looked around. Everyone was still standing, but frazzled. The threads of Finnar’s shield didn’t look as tightly woven as before.<br />
<br />
“I don’t know how many more shots it’ll absorb,” Erik said, peering at the quavering threads of magic. He tried to sing the knots of the golden threads tighter, but they responded sluggishly, as if wounded.<br />
<br />
“More!” Ollemar shouted, pointing at the city. Another trio of shadow clouds had spewed off the end of the tendril, and followed the same arc again.<br />
<br />
“They seem content to slowly pummel us to death,” Aiar said.<br />
<br />
“Then let’s get closer so we can strike back,” Kari said. “Move!” And she sprinted off toward Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
Everyone else perforce had to follow. Kari slowed when she realized she was outdistancing everyone except Aiar, with his long, loping stride. Closing the distance, of course, meant that the shadow missiles would reach them even sooner. It had been no more than two minutes the first time. They must still be miles from the city, Erik guessed, meaning that those projectiles were travelling at a truly terrifying speed.<br />
<br />
“We know the shields will hold,” Aiar said when they came to a stop, to prepare for the next impact. “We must rotate who takes the hit, so that the shields last longer before you must replace them.”<br />
<br />
Erik nodded. He’d spun out five more missiles as they ran. Aiar could take one in each hand, and Erik could bind two to himself with golden threads. Ollemar could only wield one at a time, since he had to use his staff to manipulate them, and when he tried carrying two—one at either end—one would inevitably slip off. Still, five was better than three.<br />
<br />
“I’m up,” Kari said, planting herself in front. Erik almost shouted at her to stop, but with a tremendous force of will, he held his tongue. She was doing exactly what she’d promised: protecting him. He couldn’t scorn that.<br />
<br />
“We need to hold our fire longer, or we’ll be wasting our shots,” Aiar said. Erik’s heart tried to climb up his throat as he watched the shadow clouds bear down on them. He saw now that there were conelike projectiles at the hearts of those clouds, much like the ones Remy had thrown at them back in the forest. But these were larger, more jagged, more fearsome. Whatever aspect of the Shadow Remy had wielded, the full Shadow itself was a far more terrible thing.<br />
<br />
“Brace!” Kari shouted. Everyone crouched behind her, and when the three shadow missiles were mere seconds away, all five of Erik’s multicolored arrows were hurled skyward. This time, two of the shadow missiles exploded into iridescent shards, and only one made it through to strike them. Kari’s shield took the full force of it, and she was propelled back into Finnar’s bulk.<br />
<br />
Erik quickly inspected her shield. It was a little wobbly, too, but not as bad as Finnar’s. “I think we’re getting the hang of this,” he said, grinning.<br />
<br />
“I think the Shadow is, too,” Aiar said, staring out at Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
Five shadow missiles arced across the sky toward them.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
They ran onward, hurling missiles into the sky as fast as Erik could weave them. Three of the shadow missiles fell this time, but two struck Aiar’s shield full-on. His shield looked as ragged and unstable as Finnar’s. On the next wave, Ollemar stood in front, and they fared worse—three of the shadow clouds landed among them. Ollemar’s shield was in tatters.<br />
<br />
“I have to replace it,” Erik shouted. He didn’t think it would absorb another shot without failing completely, and if any of that shadow energy got through to Ollemar…<br />
<br />
“Wait,” Aiar said, insistent. “The Brandrinn still has the shield on his back. We have time yet before you must reweave our shields. And we are not drawing on two thirds of our power. Ollemar and I can weave together without your help.”<br />
<br />
“That won’t stop the Shadow’s weapons!” Erik said. He felt himself starting to panic.<br />
<br />
“It’ll do better than nothing. If we sap all your strength before reaching the city—” He paused as they withstood another salvo from the Shadow. Finnar’s frontal shield took three more direct hits and failed completely. “You must conserve what you can, or we’re doomed.”<br />
<br />
They’d covered no more than a mile toward the city, with at least three more to go. “We mustn’t stop moving,” Finnar said. Erik sang feverishly, sliding Finnar’s rear shield around to protect his front, and then beginning a new shield to cover his Da’s back. He didn’t have time to weave any more missiles, but Ollemar and Aiar produced two between them, and, Odin bless them, both hit their mark. The two shadow clouds sputtered and began to slowly dissipate as the paired fae and Brandrinn magics hit them, rather than exploding brightly as they had when struck by Erik’s missiles-of-three-magics. Their sputtering threw them off course, and they missed, harmlessly crashing into the grasses just to either side of the party. They seemed to lodge in the earth, smoking and fading slowly away. The grass around them began to wither and die, though the corruption spread only a few yards before stopping.<br />
<br />
The other three shadow missiles struck home, though. Two hit Kari, rending her shield nearly to bits. Ollemar leapt before her, blocking the third.<br />
<br />
The next wave was already rising by the time Erik blinked the smoke from his eyes. They raced forward, Erik weaving new shields as fast as he could. He replaced Kari’s and Ollemar’s, since the Brandrinn’s shield looked so weak that one more hit might destroy it <i>and</i> kill him.<br />
<br />
Erik barely had time to spin out one projectile of his own before the next salvo landed upon them. He threw his missile an instant before the first shadow bolt landed, intercepting and destroying it. The second was only moments behind, but Aiar hurled a violet-and-green arrow, knocking it clear. The third and fourth hit Ollemar’s new shield. It held, but looked severely weakened. Erik hadn’t had time to weave it as tightly as he had at first.<br />
<br />
And the fifth shadow cloud, which trailed slightly behind the rest, was still coming. There wasn’t time to weave another missile, so in a moment of desperation Erik sang the slow dirge Djalgand had taught him.<br />
<br />
A skein of golden threads quickly congealed into a helix, as before, and Erik slid it in front of the last missile. It didn’t damage or even harm the thing, but it did deflect it slightly, enough that the bolt raced just over their heads and crashed into the ground behind them.<br />
<br />
Erik whooped. He couldn’t aim his projectiles once he hurled them, but he <i>could</i> weave a deflecting thread wherever he chose, with much greater accuracy. That would—<br />
<br />
“RUN!” Ollemar screamed, and sprinted past Erik. A sudden knot of fear made Erik follow without question, though he looked back over his shoulder. Where the deflected missile had landed, the grasses withered and blackened and burst into flame. The decay and fire spread outward as fast as a man could run.<br />
<br />
The whole party galloped onward, trying to outrun the conflagration. Erik could feel its heat on his back, unimpeded by the shield he wore there. The skin on the back of his neck, the only part exposed, began to feel burned, as if he’d stayed in the sun too long. Erik pumped his arms, hoping beyond hope that they’d escape.<br />
<br />
He breathed easier when the heat lessened, and when he glanced back he saw that the spreading flames had come to an abrupt halt, extinguishing themselves. All the grasses in a huge circle had turned to ash.<br />
<br />
They were halfway to the city now. The whole party came to a halt, gasping for air. Erik looked up at Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
The Shadow did not tire. Another tendril had extended from the city, coiling back and forth in sinuous rhythms. And now <i>each</i> tendril sent five clouds of shadow into the heavens.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
“We’re never going to make it,” Ollemar said, breathing hard. The one saving grace of this latest salvo was that the missiles seemed to be moving a bit slower. But there were <i>ten</i> of them. They might survive this attack, and another, but how many more could they withstand?<br />
<br />
“We can’t let any of them land undamaged,” Aiar said. “I have the stamina to outrun those firestorms, but the rest of you don’t.”<br />
<br />
“That means we have to damage, destroy, or absorb every single one,” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“I can’t weave shields as strong as before,” Erik said. “Each one can take… three, maybe four hits before I have to weave it again.”<br />
<br />
“That’s two or three shields per attack, if it stays at ten,” Finnar said, casting a glance skyward at the incoming shadow missiles.<br />
<br />
“Maybe it will if we ask nicely,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
“The Shadow seems disinclined to acquiesce to your request.” Aiar caught Erik’s gaze. “Do you think you can last?”<br />
<br />
“I’m… I’m getting tired, no lie,” Erik said. “But I’ve got strength left.”<br />
<br />
“Enough to get to the city? Hold that thought,” Aiar said, and they prepared to face the incoming missiles. “Spread out! Let us see what they do.”<br />
<br />
They sent three shots skyward. Miracle of miracles, all three connected; the increasing number of incoming shadow clouds made it difficult to miss. But that left seven falling upon them that they had to absorb. If all seven went after one person…<br />
<br />
The clouds seemed at first confused by this proliferation of targets. Then they too spread out. Erik took two hits, one to his arm shield and one to his front. They both struck him like gongs, setting a ringing in his ears. But his shields had held, and better than the others’; these shields had been woven before the battle, with sufficient time and care.<br />
<br />
Finnar and Ollemar each took two; Kari took one. They shook off the impacts and began moving toward Bjarheim again.<br />
<br />
Erik could make out more details of the city now: individual buildings around the edge, mainly houses, and the taller buildings of commerce and society near the middle. The fae wall, the violet shield that had so long protected Bjarheim, was nowhere in evidence.<br />
<br />
Another volley of ten shadow clouds rose into the sky. Erik was beginning to feel nauseous from his efforts, and from the constant fear of one of those clouds breaking through Erik’s shields.<br />
<br />
The Shadow, it seemed, did not learn, but merely reinforced strength with strength. The missiles again separated, picking out targets at random. Erik and his companions only shot down two this time. Finnar presented his back to the rest, absorbing three shocks, while Aiar and Ollemar each took one. Kari took one, and Erik took two. Erik decided to stop building shields at his friends’ backs. Instead, he slid new shields in front of them, behind the existing ones. That way, the weakest shields were layered on the outside, and would ablate away the attacks, while the stronger shields were in the rear, ready to advance forward, like soldiers in file, marching into the bowshots of an enemy force. He wouldn’t have to waste time rotating shields around from the rear.<br />
<br />
Of course, this meant that everyone’s backs were unprotected. But, gods willing, the Shadow wouldn’t figure out that weakness. Erik quickly explained what he was doing, especially to Finnar and Kari, who couldn’t see the magic. No one had any objections. Or if they did, they were too tired to explain them.<br />
<br />
They closed to within a mile of the city, after long minutes tromping through the grasses, shooting down and withstanding the impacts from countless shadow missiles. Each footstep was slower, more tiring than the last.<br />
<br />
And then a third tendril unfurled itself from the black mist enveloping Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Ollemar sent up a cry of despair. “You bastard!” Kari shouted at the city.<br />
<br />
Fifteen black clouds soared high above them, threatening to blot out the sun.<br />
<br />
Bjarheim was <i>so close</i>. If they could get within range, if Erik could attack the Shadow directly, maybe this terrible onslaught would end.<br />
<br />
There had to be a way. Erik wove shields as fast as he could, reinforcing the line, and desperately trying to figure out how to survive. His shields were growing sloppier and sloppier.<br />
<br />
Was he close enough to hurl a bolt at the Shadow itself? Could he spare the time and energy? He’d never tested the range on such a thing. He’d just have to try. He thought about telling the others, but why distract them? They all looked as ragged and beaten-down as he felt.<br />
<br />
Erik glanced along the line. Everyone had enough shielding to survive this volley… probably. They all had two shields, one full and one ragged. Aiar’s was the weakest, bare tatters hanging before him. Maybe he should make more…<br />
<br />
<i>No!</i> There was no time to think. Erik wove a missile, taking care with the threads, binding it as tightly as possible. His throat was sore from constant singing. How did ironspeakers go on for hours, as he’d heard them in their forges? Practice, years of practice. Years he hadn’t had. Years he’d probably never have.<br />
<br />
Finally his missile was ready, glowing brightly in the air before him. The fifteen shadow missiles rained down toward them. Erik almost threw his new missile up at them—no, he had to attack the Shadow. He focused on the nearest part of the great black mist, where it writhed and flowed around the buildings at the edge of the city. Aim—<i>Ha!</i> What need was there to aim at a target so large? He drew his arm back and hurled the golden arrow, violet and emerald energy coruscating within.<br />
<br />
Then he had to suffer four violent blasts as the shadow clouds landed among them. When he finally came up for air, he looked after his own missile. He glimpsed a golden streak, and watched in astonishment as it struck the Shadow—<br />
<br />
There was a colossal blast of iridescent light, brighter than the noon sun, and when Erik could see again he perceived that a great hole had been rent in the Shadow’s flank. The black mist withered away from it, like a goatskin drawn too tight and then cut. For a moment, Erik thought the Shadow was destroyed. Then the withering stopped, although it did not reverse. But the three great tendrils of black gas dissipated instantly, their smoke flitting away on the wind. The Shadow had been hurt!<br />
<br />
“Look!” he shouted. “It worked! I stopped it!” He looked around at the others, certain they’d be as ecstatic as he was.<br />
<br />
Finnar, Ollemar, and Kari stood in a little circle, looking down at something on the ground. Aiar lay there, with one entire arm and part of his chest turned black with corruption.<br />
<br />
He wasn’t moving.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xviii.html">Part XVIII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-21040957067042095342014-02-04T11:40:00.000-08:002014-02-13T10:21:50.357-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XVIBack on track!<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">XV</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XVI</b></div>
<br />
“I’ll be damned,” Djalgand muttered. “Tiny loops that hold the other threads together?”<br />
<br />
Erik breathed steadily, but he was excited. “I can do more of them,” he said, and began singing more golden threads into place. One by one they encircled the emerald and violet strands, squeezing them together. But he noticed that after a few moments they would unfold and slip away if he didn’t keep singing at them. “Is there a way to tie a… a sort of knot in them?” he asked Djalgand. “So they hold fast?”<br />
<br />
Djalgand began to sing a series of erratic notes, seemingly at random. One thread, that Erik held in place with his own melody, began squirming. Its ends writhed until they touched, and then they slithered around one another, intertwining and tightening into a complex knot so tiny that Erik could barely make it out.<br />
<br />
When Djalgand stopped singing, Erik did too. The other threads slowly uncurled and flitted away, but the knotted one did not move. “How long will it stay like that?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“How do you think I kept all those wards in place outside?” Djalgand said. “Sung knots never slip unless they’re unsung, which only an ironspeaker can do. Or if, say, they’re part of a trap that triggers. Like the tripwires.”<br />
<br />
Aiar tapped thoughtfully on his chin. “So our shield, tied with these knots of yours, would hold itself indefinitely?”<br />
<br />
“I suppose. Are you working to maintain your magic now?”<br />
<br />
Aiar shook his head. “Not in the slightest. Fae magic can be made to persist, but it is very difficult. A small weaving like this will unweave itself in minutes if not maintained.”<br />
<br />
“If your magic and ours can be held together by these threads,” Ollemar said, “we could weave permanent shields. They would be very effective defenses.”<br />
<br />
They tried. Aiar and Ollemar brought together their webs, and Erik started bending golden threads around them. At first, Djalgand sang the knots, but Erik quickly picked up the melody and helped, doubling their speed. His knots weren’t as firm or precise, but they held.<br />
<br />
The first shield was as tall as Erik, and about as wide as his armspan. They’d built it in only a few minutes. Ollemar could move it around by poking the emerald threads with the tip of his quarterstaff, and Aiar could drag it by grabbing onto the violet threads. Djalgand could make it move by singing at it. The whole thing stayed intact, no matter how much they shook it about or how long they waited.<br />
<br />
They tested it by having Erik bind together spears of energy woven by Aiar and Ollemar, much like the ones they’d used to attack Remy back in the forest. Those spears, powerful as they’d been against the Shadow, shattered into nothing when they struck the new shield. The shield did not so much as quiver under the attack.<br />
<br />
“I bet we could weave shields for all of us,” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“What about your father? And, uh, her too, I suppose,” Aiar said, when Kari glared at him. “They can’t manipulate any of the magical parts of the shield.”<br />
<br />
“I can solve that problem,” Djalgand said. He sang a long, slow dirge, and Erik saw something new: dozens of the golden threads spliced themselves into one long, helical mass. Djalgand repeated this a few times, then brought the mass around Kari’s midsection. He sang the helix into place on her other side, and then tied the long threads around its edges.<br />
<br />
Aiar, Ollemar, and Erik all stared at her, fascinated. “What?” she asked, looking nervous.<br />
<br />
“Walk around the room,” Djalgand said. Kari did, pacing along the perimeter. The shield stayed with her, pivoting as she turned, always at her back.<br />
<br />
“Brilliant,” Aiar said.<br />
<br />
Erik exulted. “The Shadow won’t stand a chance!”<br />
<br />
Everyone seemed thrilled with the idea. Everyone except Finnar, who just looked worried. “What’s wrong, Da?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“It’s… it sounds amazing, what you’re doing. But it’s still a long way to Bjarheim.”<br />
<br />
“I know, but don’t worry. With our power, we’ll win, I’m sure of it.” Erik, all on his own, traced out violet and emerald threads into a small, arm-length shield, and sang golden threads to bind it tight. He mimicked Djalgand’s dirge in order to create the longer threads, and wove them around his arm. It was as if he’d created a buckler of pure light, that he could move with his arm.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t a patch on the full-sized shields the others had helped create, but Erik could work up to those in time. In less than a week he’d thoroughly learned basic ironspeaking. By the time they got home, he was sure he’d be powerful enough to stop the Shadow on his own.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
“We should leave,” Erik said the next morning. “I can’t stand thinking of what the Shadow is doing to Bjarheim.”<br />
<br />
“You’ve still got too much to learn,” Djalgand said. “There’s hundreds of patterns I haven’t taught you yet.”<br />
<br />
“I know enough. Besides, you should come with us! The more strength we have, the better we can fight the Shadow.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand’s face fell. “I… I can’t go back. I can’t face Bjarheim.” His earlier anger and bitterness had faded. Now there was melancholy, and… fear, Erik supposed. What was he afraid of? If Djalgand helped them free Bjarheim, wouldn’t they revere him as a savior?<br />
<br />
“Then come with us some of the way. At least until we get back to the Brandrinn’s forest.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand shook his head. “No. You go. You’ll figure out the rest on your own. If you… if you save the city, send for me.”<br />
<br />
Erik was pained by this, and wanted to insist, but Finnar laid a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “He’s got his reasons, lad. Let’s be off.”<br />
<br />
They had enough provisions left to reach more settled lands, if they were careful. Even Finnar, big as he was, had shed some pounds on the journey. His cheeks had sunk in a little. It made Finnar look old. Erik didn’t like it.<br />
<br />
Erik, Aiar, Ollemar, and Djalgand wove and re-wove shields for every member of their party: one large shield, affixed to each person’s back, to prevent attacks from the rear; and a smaller one tied to the right arm, that could be—Erik hoped—used to block the Shadow’s attacks. Erik wanted to encase everyone in shields, head to toe on all sides, but the bright threads were too hard to see through. Only Kari and Finnar got shields protecting their faces, while everyone else settled for shields around their torsos and legs.<br />
<br />
Djalgand took Erik’s hand and clapped him on the arm. “You be careful. Practice the Song of Seeing every day, like I said. And try new melodies. Slowly, softly, so you don’t hurt yourself. You may be strong, but take it from me. It’ll be years before you really understand how little you know.”<br />
<br />
Erik thought Djalgand was exaggerating, but he nodded agreeably anyway. Erik hadn’t learned the melodies that would let him open and close the stone walls, so Djalgand sang them open for Erik and his friends.<br />
<br />
The enormous golden ward still arced up into the sky overhead, but Erik could now see the whorling threads that constituted it. He sang quietly, pushing them away, so that they could no longer entice him. They made it out of the base of the Styggen without incident, and began the long trek back south.<br />
<br />
Kari walked beside Erik, holding his hand much of the time. He could see, between her shields, her loose auburn curls poking out from under her hood. “Do y’think the Shadow is expecting us?” she asked as they trudged through the snow.<br />
<br />
“I hope not, but I’m not that daft,” Erik said. “We’re going to have to fight.”<br />
<br />
“I’ll do whatever I can. Protect you,” she said. “The Shadow won’t get close, I promise.”<br />
<br />
No one said anything about the fact that, each night when they settled down to sleep, Erik and Kari lay piled together under their furs. Erik knew about the things that grown men and women did at night, but that still seemed far away. And, somehow, scarier than the prospect of fighting the Shadow, which might kill them all.<br />
<br />
Still, Kari let him kiss her a few times before they closed their eyes and fell asleep. If they lost the battle, he’d miss Bjarheim, he’d sorely miss his Da, and he’d even miss Aiar and Ollemar—but he realized, startlingly, that he’d miss Kari most of all.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The snowy tundra gave way to grasses and woods again. Erik practiced his magic incessantly, weaving and re-weaving his shields over and over as they walked. He alternated this with spinning the threads into tiny, radiant projectiles, of the sort Aiar and Ollemar had made, but bound with ironsong as he’d done with the new shields. Come the battle, he was going to need to be able to wield his magic as fast as possible.<br />
<br />
He remembered how in the forest he’d merely been an energy source for Aiar and the Brandrinn to use. Now he could touch the <i>methar</i> and the Seed in his mind with ease. And whenever he so much as murmured the Song of Seeing, the golden threads appeared, pervading everything. It still took longer to weave a shield by himself than if Aiar and Ollemar helped, but he gained speed by the day.<br />
<br />
How was it possible that he had so much power? A lad of barely fourteen, that’s all he was. All he felt like. Weren’t heroes supposed to be grand and bold and sure of themselves? The closer they drew to Bjarheim, the less certain he felt.<br />
<br />
So he practiced, and sang, and wove. He created a shield and left it standing against a tree, then wove a missile from all three magics. When it slammed into the shield, Erik heard an ear-piercing shriek, and saw that the threads of the shield had been jarred loose. So, a shield of three magics was vulnerable to an attack by all three magics.<br />
<br />
But the Shadow didn’t have these magics, did it? The Shadow had some corrupted mimicry of magic. Powerful, to be sure. Would his shields hold, when the time came?<br />
<br />
Erik tried not to worry about this, with little success. They passed within a day’s walk of the village where they’d left the rest of the Bjarheimers. Erik wanted to visit them and make sure they were all still well, but there was no time to lose. He thought he could sense something off to the south. Or maybe those were just his fears. They were only a couple of days from Bjarheim now. The Shadow would be upon them all too soon.<br />
<br />
They’d refilled their packs with dried fruits and nuts and salted venison purchased from farms and trading posts along the way. Erik longed for fresh bread and nice hot meal. And apple tarts. Tons of apple tarts.<br />
<br />
They broke for dinner as the sun set. “Bjarheim will be on the horizon some time tomorrow,” Finnar said. “Then we’ll see what we’re up against.”<br />
<br />
Aiar sat with them, but ate nothing. He was staring off into the gathering dusk. “Are you okay?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“Don’t bother me,” the fae said, and continued staring silently. Erik sighed and ignored him. Aiar had been growing more and more irritable the closer they got to Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
Ollemar spoke next. “I hesitate to ask, but… what plan of attack have we against the Shadow? If it’s enveloping the whole city, as you say, then I don’t know how our magic will defeat it. As well hurl a pebble against an oak.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know,” Erik said. “Maybe we can just make the biggest magical arrow we can, and that’ll do… something.”<br />
<br />
“Bjarheim’s got open fields on all sides,” Kari pointed out. “There’s no cover. If you attack, and it fails, then what? Stand around figuring what to do while the Shadow strikes at us?”<br />
<br />
“It’s not as if we have much experience fighting the Shadow,” Ollemar said. “No one had even seen it in a lifetime before this.”<br />
<br />
“In a short human lifetime,” Aiar said abruptly. “I remember it.”<br />
<br />
“What?” Finnar demanded. “Why didn’t you bring this up earlier?”<br />
<br />
The fae ignored him. “Erik, do you see that?” he asked, pointing south into the darkness.<br />
<br />
Erik looked, but there was nothing obvious. “What?”<br />
<br />
“That violet glow. On the horizon. It’s a thin line, and it’s interrupted by those trees, but it’s there, if only you focus.” He waited, staring at Erik.<br />
<br />
Erik squinted, wondering if maybe his eyes had to adjust. He got up and walked a little ways from the fire, trying to peer into the night. After a minute, he shrugged and turned back. Aiar had somehow silently crept up behind him, making him jump. “Cut that out! How can someone so big be so damned sneaky?”<br />
<br />
“I used magic to muffle my footfalls, you nitwit.” Aiar said it with some affection, not the hostility he had initially presented to Erik. If nothing else, this whole adventure had given Erik a new—well, “friend” wasn’t exactly the right word. “Do you see it?”<br />
<br />
Erik shook his head. “No. I’m sorry.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t be. For once it’s not your fault. There’s a faint glow of fae magic on the horizon there. At this range I can barely sense it, but I’ve had centuries of practice. It’s Bjarheim.”<br />
<br />
Kari joined them. “If you can sense fae magic there… that’s good, right?”<br />
<br />
“Potentially. The feel of it is uncorrupted, so I think my kin are still below ground, holding out against the Shadow. I doubt they’ll be of much use to us, but at least they’re still alive.” He frowned. “But the glow is weak. Very weak. The few times I’ve travelled out of Bjarheim, I could see a glow as bright as the full moon from this far away.”<br />
<br />
“I’m sure this is important, but you said you remember the Shadow,” Ollemar said. He’d walked up silently behind them, as usual. “Shouldn’t you have mentioned this before?”<br />
<br />
“Frankly, I never thought we’d make it this far. Anyway, I didn’t fight the Shadow. Another elder was in command then, while I was deep within the earth, teaching. I wasn’t even aware the Shadow had come and been beaten back until I resurfaced, more than a year later.”<br />
<br />
“So you don’t know anything useful?” Kari asked, disbelieving.<br />
<br />
“I know what the elders told me. The fae elders, the ironspeaker council, and the priests of the Order came together to fight the Shadow. It was really only we fae and the ironspeakers who did the work. The Order’s magic is actually the same as the magic you woodsmen use.” Aiar eyed Ollemar. “They are surrounded by life—the people of Bjarheim—but less of it than the woodsmen in the forest. Their grasp of the magic is weak, and so the priests’ teachings encompass only observation and sensation, not manipulation. They can weakly see their magic, but they cannot really do anything with it. A true waste of potential.” He snorted. “The elders told me that the priests helped observe where the Shadow would strike, the ironspeakers sang the defenses, and the fae wove the attack. It was fundamentally a routine operation, no different than all the other times the Shadow has come.”<br />
<br />
Erik felt cold inside. “But this time the Shadow had someone inside the city.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, your dear friend Remy. Whatever he did, he was able to suppress all warning that the Shadow was on its way, until it was too late.” Aiar looked out at the horizon again. “The last time, there were a dozen priests, thirty ironspeakers, and seventy-three fae defending Bjarheim. Now we have one fae, one woodsman, and one half-trained boy.”<br />
<br />
“Who can use all three kinds of magic,” Erik retorted. “That’s worth something!”<br />
<br />
“Let us fervently hope so,” Aiar said. “Otherwise, Bjarheim is doomed.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik couldn’t fall asleep. He tossed and turned under his blanket, staring up at the stars above, wondering if at any moment they might become obscured by a creeping darkness, the same as they had when the Shadow came to Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
At some point he dozed off, because suddenly it was dawn and he felt groggy. He hadn’t dreamed. Just as well. He didn’t need the distraction.<br />
<br />
They ate breakfast and broke camp, and were just about to depart when a cold, bitter wind rose from the south. Unexpected breezes weren’t uncommon on the plains around Bjarheim, but this one had a sour tang to it. “What’s that smell?” Erik said.<br />
<br />
Ollemar had already noticed it, and lifted his nose to the wind, sniffing. Aiar glanced curiously to the south. There was enough light to see a thin, dark haze on the horizon. “I’m not sure,” the fae said. “Let’s be on our guard.” Erik glanced around to make sure that everyone’s shields were still intact.<br />
<br />
Finnar gathered up the last bits of his pack. “Erik stays in the center,” he said. Finnar put himself and Aiar just ahead of Erik, on either side of him, and Kari and Ollemar behind. Erik didn’t feel like he needed that much protection, but everyone else kept insisting how important he was, and he got tired of arguing about it.<br />
<br />
They marched south. The sour smell grew stronger as the sun climbed. The copses of spruce and pine grew less frequent, until the horizon before them stretched great and wide.<br />
<br />
And at last, as the sun reached its zenith, the gray haze on the horizon gave way to a black line, growing thicker as they trudged along.<br />
<br />
The Shadow sat astride Bjarheim, and all Erik’s fears sat with it.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvii.html">Part XVII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-60754544300415661452014-01-29T21:16:00.000-08:002014-02-04T11:40:54.988-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XVA wild hiatus appears!<br />
<br />
So, life intervened, but I'm back now, and plan to finish <b>Bjarheim's Shadow</b> over the next few weeks. Odds are against maintaining the one-a-week schedule from before, but then when have I ever been told the odds?<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">XIV</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XV</b></div>
<br />
Aiar, for one, was undeterred. “You are Djalgand Skaldi?”<br />
<br />
The bearded man glared up at the fae. “Who’s askin’?”<br />
<br />
“I am Aiar,” the fae said, as if his name should be enough for anyone.<br />
<br />
“We’re from Bjarheim,” Finnar said. “The Shadow has come, and we need your help.”<br />
<br />
“Pfeh.” Djalgand spat into the snow. “One ironspeaker more or less ain’t gonna make any difference.”<br />
<br />
“It is not your power we seek, but your teaching,” Ollemar piped up. “This boy is the prophesied one, who will free these lands from the Shadow.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand gazed down at Erik, dubious, but then his eyes widened and he broke into a grin. “Hah! Clever idea, lashing him to you like that. Keep him from running off into the wards.” The grin vanished almost as quickly as it had come. “Still don’t see what that has to do with me.”<br />
<br />
Erik could feel his father’s chest move as he drew in a great breath. “Master Halgrin never said you were a nitwit!” his Da shouted.<br />
<br />
“Excuse me?” Djalgand said, all traces of humor vanishing.<br />
<br />
Finnar pointed at Ollemar. “You know damned well he’s a woodsman. And there’s a fae here, and a boy who can see your magic. Yet you pretend that there’s nothing to it all?”<br />
<br />
“Bjarheim never wanted my help before,” Djalgand said, his voice as icy as the tundra around them. “Good old Halgrin was the one who pushed me out of Bjarheim, did he ever tell you that?”<br />
<br />
“He wouldn’t speak of it,” Finnar said, uneasiness in his voice. “He only said you had your reasons for leaving.”<br />
<br />
“Aye, that I did. I warned them all that the Shadow was nigh. Day in, day out! They said I was mad. They isolated me and took away all I had bit by bit until I had no choice but to leave.” He stalked forward a few steps and waved a thick finger nearly in Erik’s face. “And you have the gall to come here and demand that I help the city that threw me out?”<br />
<br />
All the yelling was making Erik anxious. And the wind had begun to kick up, chilling Erik through his furs. He wished Aiar or Ollemar would weave some magic to warm them all. Erik wanted to do it himself, but didn’t trust his abilities, especially not with that blasted ironspeaker’s ward surrounding him.<br />
<br />
“To the hells with you,” Djalgand went on, turning his back and stomping away. “And get off my land!”<br />
<br />
“Hey!” Kari shouted. Djalgand jerked to a halt and looked back, apparently noticing the girl for the first time. “Who are you to be so rude to my friend? He wasn’t even born when you left Bjarheim. How can you blame him for what happened? He just wants to learn your magic, so he can save his home!”<br />
<br />
“Who in the blazes <i>are</i> you people?” Djalgand glanced around, bemused, at the adults. “What are you up to, dragging children through these icy wastes?”<br />
<br />
“She’s a stowaway, or the landlocked equivalent,” Aiar said. “Try telling her she can’t follow you somewhere, and see how much success you have.”<br />
<br />
“I’m here because he’s my friend,” Kari said, taking Erik’s hand even as he hung limply from the ropes holding him against his father. “And he’s the only way we’re going to save Bjarheim.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar knelt down, laid his staff on the snow, and then held his hands wide. “Master Skaldi, I beg of you, do not turn us away. The Shadow has come to Bjarheim. The lives of thousands are in danger. If Bjarheim falls, what next? The fields? The forests? Will the Shadow at last come for you?”<br />
<br />
Djalgand’s gaze was still fixed on Kari. He shook his head, as if clearing cobwebs. “You’ll all catch your death of cold out here. Follow me. We can talk somewhere warm.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
No one wanted to risk his wrath again, so the whole group followed in silence as Djalgand Skaldi tromped through the ice and snow. Erik noticed that his compulsion to run into the golden ward had nearly vanished, now that they were inside it. He was sore from being held up by ropes for hours, but he didn’t want to complain now that their goal was in sight.<br />
<br />
Djalgand glanced back every so often. He seemed to be muttering something to himself, almost like soft humming. Erik tried not to meet his eyes, but it was difficult to look away. Djalgand radiated power.<br />
<br />
They followed him for several minutes, through thickets of stone pillars and spiky black outcroppings. Those grew denser and denser until at last they came to what looked like an impenetrable wall of black rock. Erik was reminded of the Vângr’s tightly packed wall of trees. Instead of going through a tunnel under the wall, however, Djalgand stopped and began to sing.<br />
<br />
It was just as Erik remembered from all those times he’d sat outside an ironspeaker’s forge, ear pressed to the wall, listening to the haunting melodies. Only now there was nothing between him and the singer, and Djalgand’s voice filled the air around him, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.<br />
<br />
For a few moments nothing happened, and then a jagged line of golden light appeared in the rock face, stretching from down on the ground to higher than Aiar’s head. The line began to thicken, and there was a colossal grinding noise as the two halves of the rock wall swung aside. In moments they’d left a gap, wide enough for two men abreast. Djalgand led the way inside.<br />
<br />
Within the rock was a hewn chamber, circular and twenty paces across, domed at the top. Six golden lamps burned around the perimeter. Their light did not flicker the way a candle’s would, but rather stayed perfectly even. There was a bed, a table, two chairs, and several large chests stacked around the edge.<br />
<br />
Once the whole party was within, Djalgand sang again, and the rock portal slid shut with a grinding thump. “Make yourselves comfortable, I suppose,” he said. “I haven’t enough food to spare for you, so you’ll have to survive on what you brought.”<br />
<br />
“Eat little,” Ollemar reminded them all. “It’s days south to any resupply.”<br />
<br />
Erik was released from his bindings, and spent a while massaging the feeling back into his legs. He glanced at the black stone walls again, and marvelled at how easily Djalgand had split them open—with nothing more than singing, no less! “How does that work?” he asked the ironspeaker.<br />
<br />
Djalgand stared at Erik for a moment, making him deeply uncomfortable. “The stone’s shot through with metallics. Ironspeaking can do more than just make hammers and stoves for you ungrateful lot.”<br />
<br />
“Are you gong to teach him, or not?” Aiar asked. “We’ve come a long way, and if you’re no use to us, then we’d better get started finding someone who will be.”<br />
<br />
“I liked her pitch better,” Djalgand said dryly, jerking a thumb at Kari.<br />
<br />
“You didn’t answer him,” she said.<br />
<br />
Djalgand chuckled mirthlessly. “What good would it do? Even if this boy is some sort of savior… Well, just look at him. Scrawny lad. Using any magic would just as like burn him to ash.” He peered down at Erik. “You say he can use both fae and woodsman magic?”<br />
<br />
“Yes.” Finnar stood tall, for once looking proud of his son. Erik would have blushed, if his cheeks hadn’t already been reddened by the cold. “He’s used it to fight and defeat one of the Shadow’s minions. It followed us through the forest, and—”<br />
<br />
“It <i>followed you?</i>” Djalgand Skaldi shouted. “You’d best not have led it here!”<br />
<br />
“No, no!” Ollemar said. “It destroyed itself trying to kill us, but it failed. That was back in the forest north of Bjarheim, and we’ve come a long way since then with no sign of it.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand settled down a bit and said no more for a while. He put on a fire in a round pit at one edge of the room, and hung a kettle on a hook over it. The fire was nearly smokeless; what few fumes it did emit roiled up through a fist-sized hole in the ceiling. Erik thought he saw glimmers of gold light among the flames, and even amidst the smoke, but it was hard to tell.<br />
<br />
“It takes years to learn ironspeaking properly,” Djalgand said. “And by what you’ve said, Bjarheim hasn’t the time to waste. Seven hells, it might have already fallen to dust and ash. What would be the point?”<br />
<br />
“Because we have to try,” Erik said. He stood up from where he’d sat near the fire and faced Djalgand directly. “Maybe you’ve given up. But I won’t.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand met Erik’s eyes. For the first time, the old bearded ironspeaker didn’t glare, or scoff, or laugh bitterly. “You’ll die trying,” he said.<br />
<br />
“No I won’t,” Erik said reflexively. He took a breath. “I learned to use the <i>methar</i> in a couple of days, and I could draw power from the Seed of the Brandrinn in the same time. I’ll bet you anything I can learn ironspeaking just as quick.” He stared defiantly, but anxiety made his innards quiver.<br />
<br />
Djalgand sighed. “Fine. We’ll begin in the morning.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Fae and Brandrinn magics involved poking and prodding at sensations inside Erik’s mind. Ironspeaking, by contrast, involved seeing the currents of magic flowing through the air around him, and singing at them in order to manipulate them. “There are hundreds of distinct patterns an ironspeaker learns,” Djalgand said. He was sitting on a narrow wooden stool, looming over Erik who sat on the floor before him. “Each one twists and turns the strings in different ways, to make different effects. You can create heat or light. You can lock energy into a string, so that it is released slowly—or explosively—when someone touches it. Those hundreds of patterns can be combined in millions of ways.”<br />
<br />
Erik looked around. It had been only a day, and already he was starting to be able to see the shimmering golden strings of light that Djalgand spoke of. They were everywhere, it seemed, ebbing and flowing like currents in a river. Sometimes they seemed to cluster together, like a flock of starlings in flight, spinning and curving about.<br />
<br />
Djalgand had started by teaching Erik a few melodic patterns. Erik’s voice wasn’t much to listen to, but he could repeat the patterns well enough. One refrain was called the Song of Seeing. “You repeat that song every morning when you wake, and every night before sleep, and any time you’re not otherwise occupied, or you’ll lose the touch,” Djalgand warned him. “It strengthens your power to see the strings. That’s the first step toward being able to manipulate them.”<br />
<br />
And so it was. When Erik woke up the second day, before he even sang a note, he could see skeins of golden light swirling in the air above him. He realized that they were pulsing in time with Djalgand Skaldi’s voice. The web was far more complex than anything he’d ever seen, even beyond the green-and-violet tapestries that had been woven by Aiar and Ollemar back in the forest. Djalgand was holding a long piece of iron, easily twice Erik’s height and as thick around as his wrist. As Erik watched, the golden strings spun tight around the top of the iron, and when they dispersed, Erik saw that the tip had been bent into a point. Djalgand lowered the iron and inspected his work closely. A few more swarms of strings fluttered in and scraped against the spike as Djalgand continued singing, minutely adjusting its shape. Soon the point of the iron pole gleamed perfectly smooth.<br />
<br />
Djalgand set it down, then noticed that Erik was awake. “How much of that did you catch?”<br />
<br />
“Some,” Erik said. He sat up and pulled the furs around him. Even here, in this enclosed cave, the chill seeped through the walls. “It looked like you used the gold strings as, um… like a physical tool.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand nodded. His earlier reluctance to teach had all but vanished. He was a patient and calm teacher, completely unlike Aiar and Ollemar.<br />
<br />
The fae and the Brandrinn, in fact, both kept quiet and watched whenever Djalgand was instructing Erik. Erik wondered if the two felt ashamed over how they’d acted before. Ollemar might. Aiar… probably not.<br />
<br />
Finnar and Kari spent most of their time sitting and watching as well, but with less interest. Kari, for one, got up and paced around every so often. She eventually asked Djalgand if he’d open the cave walls again so that she and Finnar could go out hunting. “You might find some hares or snow voles, but it won’t be much,” the ironspeaker warned them.<br />
<br />
Kari persisted, and eventually Djalgand sang the walls open for them. They returned that evening with two small hares they’d caught. Better than nothing, Erik supposed.<br />
<br />
“Where do you get your provisions?” Ollemar asked. “If hunting’s poor, and there’s certainly no edible plants around here…”<br />
<br />
“I made a deal long ago with some traders from the south. They deliver me goods every couple of months, and I give them ironwork. I meet them at a cabin a day southeast of here, so they’ve no idea I live in the Styggen. I doubt they think anyone’s mad enough to try.” He grinned. Erik was starting to like Djalgand. He hoped the old ironspeaker would join them when they went south to fight the Shadow.<br />
<br />
<i>And when is that supposed to happen?</i> Erik thought. There were no threats here, no Remy following them, no refugee Bjarheimers to watch over. And yet each night Erik dreamt of Bjarheim, its streets running thick with black ooze, its towers and spires crumbling to ash, the skeletons of his friends and neighbors rotting in the streets… He didn’t know if it was really that bad, but until he could actually go there, his imagination would keep filling in the gaps.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
After five days, Aiar began to grow restless. “How long will it be?” he asked curtly.<br />
<br />
“When Erik feels ready,” Djalgand said. “I cannot decide for him when he thinks he’ll be strong enough to leave. Much like fae or Brandrinn, ironspeakers spend years honing their craft before they are given even the simplest of assignments.”<br />
<br />
“Time we do not have,” Ollemar grumbled.<br />
<br />
“Well, boy?” Finnar said. “What can you do?”<br />
<br />
In five days, Erik didn’t feel like he’d learned much. He could see the golden strings pretty much all the time, if he chose to. Ignoring them was easy, but as soon as he sang just a few notes of the Song of Seeing, his vision was nearly clouded with bundles of golden strings flitting to and fro. “I can bend metal a little,” he said. He picked up a little square of iron that Djalgand had given him to practice on. Erik began to sing, very softly, waiting until he saw the strings respond to his voice. In a few moments they did, swirling slowly around him, waiting for further command.<br />
<br />
He’d learned only a few small tricks so far. If he concentrated fiercely, he could slowly bore a hole into the iron. He demonstrated, and then passed the iron fragment around to Finnar and the others.<br />
<br />
“Fascinating,” Aiar said. “To my eyes, the hole simply grew from nothing as you sang. Yet it’s hardly a feat to strike fear into the Shadow.”<br />
<br />
Erik couldn’t agree more. Then something occurred to him. “What if I use my song with fae and woods magic? Like how we combined those two in the forest?”<br />
<br />
“Ironsong doesn’t affect our magic,” Aiar said dismissively.<br />
<br />
“But there’s never been someone who could use both,” Ollemar pointed out. “You saw what we could do combining just our two magics. There must be a way for Erik to combine all three.”<br />
<br />
Aiar grimaced. “If he doesn’t destroy us all, then yes, I suppose that could be helpful. But in the forest, it was you and I who wove our magics. We simply used Erik as a power source.” Aiar looked down at Djalgand. “Would you attempt this with us?”<br />
<br />
Djalgand frowned. “I cannot see your magics.”<br />
<br />
“Erik can join ours to yours, I suspect,” Aiar said. “You need only look for the gaps in your magic, in order to tell where ours lies.”<br />
<br />
Djalgand looked skeptical at this, but nodded. “What shall we weave?”<br />
<br />
“Something simple,” Aiar said. “Perhaps a shield, as we did in the forest.” He reached into the air before him and started tracing lines of violet light, lines that Erik knew only he and Aiar could see. Ollemar followed suit, and wove his green Brandrinn magic into the gaps of Aiar’s web.<br />
<br />
Djalgand sang softly, and Erik watched the golden strings flutter about. They did not penetrate into the small, delicate weaving, however. “I can see where my magic is bending around yours,” Djalgand said, “but there are no gaps for it to penetrate.”<br />
<br />
Erik stared at the little threads, wondering how they’d fit into this tapestry of light. And then it hit him. He sang a series of high notes, one of the few tricks he’d learned: a melody that would tighten the strings into coils. One by one, individual threads of golden light bent and slid across the surface of the shield. Erik focused on one of them, watching it, waiting for it to be in exactly the right place.<br />
<br />
And then he sang the final note.<br />
<br />
The golden thread wrapped around two adjacent lines of light—one violet, one green—and pulled fast, immobilizing them.<br />
<br />
“Ironsong doesn’t weave between them,” Erik said, astonished. “It <i>binds them together.</i>”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-xvi.html">Part XVI</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-33527637752618566482013-06-20T23:00:00.000-07:002014-02-03T11:53:46.232-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIVSorry this one's late too—the usual excuses, plus alien abduction, thwarting supervillains, etc.<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">XIII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XIV</b></div>
<br />
It was only in retrospect that Erik appreciated the uneventfulness of their journey north. The trip itself was mostly dull tedium.<br />
<br />
He <i>should</i> have been distracted by Aiar and Ollemar teaching him to wield magic. But as the days wore on, two things became evident:<br />
<br />
Aiar did not really know how to teach someone who learned as fast as Erik did.<br />
<br />
Ollemar did not know how to teach <i>at all</i>.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The fae struggled to compress a decade’s worth of lessons into a few short days. He was constantly worried that Erik would overreach and burn himself out, or cause some sort of arcane explosion. Erik would get the hang of something and then want to begin experimenting with it at once. “No!” Aiar would insist. “You must practice the forms more. To rush headlong into advanced magical knowledge is pure folly, as I have <i>repeatedly</i> told you.”<br />
<br />
Yet Erik didn’t blow himself up. He had teased out the threads Aiar had told him about. They were the basic unit of fae energy, tiny little lines of violet light writhing in the air. He spent most of a day, as they walked along the decreasingly distinct road, manipulating individual threads and trying to make them do interesting things. By evening he was frustrated with their apparent uselessness. “They’re too small to do anything with, by themselves,” he complained as they sat around the campfire.<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted. “Nonsense. It’s only a matter of scale. Sometimes small, subtle magic is just as important as big, flashy effects.”<br />
<br />
“How so?”<br />
<br />
Aiar stared at him for several seconds. Erik began to feel uncomfortable, then realized that it wasn’t just Aiar’s gaze—something was tickling his neck. He slapped at it, thinking it was a bug, then yelped when a line of fire erupted on his shoulder. He tried to twist away from it, and then it was gone. “What in the hells did you do?”<br />
<br />
“That was a single thread, tied upon itself, like so.” Aiar demonstrated, more visibly, in the air above the fire. Erik watched as Aiar formed a thread of violet light in the air and wove it into a knot. Then the fae picked up a pebble and flung it at the knot. When it struck, the knot erupted in a flare of eye-searing light, and was gone.<br />
<br />
Erik tried for an hour to duplicate Aiar’s knot. He couldn’t manage it; the thread always unravelled itself. But by the time he lay down to sleep, he could get it to hold for a few seconds.<br />
<br />
When he told Aiar, the fae grunted. “The average fae spends a good month on that knot to make that kind of progress.”<br />
<br />
“You sound like you’re accusing him of something,” Kari interjected from her bedroll.<br />
<br />
“Accusing? No, no. He would have to have actual wits in order to be capable of premeditated malice.” Aiar rolled over and began loudly snoring.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Ollemar, by contrast, seemed to <i>want</i> Erik to learn quickly—but he couldn’t explain Brandrinn magic in any way that made sense to Erik at all. At first, back in the forest, his words had been ominous and mystical. Erik eventually realized that everything the—relatively—young Brandrinn said about magic was so vague as to be useless. “You must feel the flow of life,” Ollemar said, without being able to explain what the flow of life was <i>supposed</i> to feel like.<br />
<br />
Eventually, Erik would just try something, and Ollemar would watch. “Yes, like that,” Ollemar would say, or, “No, not like that.” More precision he simply could not give.<br />
<br />
“How on earth did <i>you</i> learn magic?” Erik grunted one afternoon as they walked.<br />
<br />
“By practicing.”<br />
<br />
“But who taught you?”<br />
<br />
“The forest taught me,” Ollemar said, as if it should be obvious. “Brandrinn do not spend much time together, even with the newer woodsmen. The forest teaches all that needs be known.”<br />
<br />
“Ain’t enough,” Finnar said.<br />
<br />
Now there was a curious relationship. Finnar was older than Ollemar, had been a Brandrinn for longer, and had left the forest even before Ollemar had entered it. But he was no longer a Brandrinn, and couldn’t wield a lick of magic. Still, Ollemar usually deferred to him.<br />
<br />
“There have never been enough Brandrinn to organize any sort of academy,” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“There ought t’be. We were too isolated, too aloof. The forest’s important,” he said, holding up a hand as Ollemar was about to protest. “But we got set in our ways, and it ain’t done us any good.”<br />
<br />
Aiar, who had been striding ahead, fell back and joined the conversation. “You know, if I’d known there was a former Brandrinn in Bjarheim, I would have sought you out.”<br />
<br />
“I thought you disdained us,” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“I once spent four decades studying beetles. It does not follow that I wish to be one.”<br />
<br />
“So they’re like bugs to you, huh?” Kari said.<br />
<br />
“Perhaps in intellectual capacity,” Aiar said, a twinkle in his eye. Whatever disdain he <i>did</i> have toward the Brandrinn, there was no cruelty behind it. It was more like a competitive streak.<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t say anything. He was half listening, and half trying to spin strands of green forest magic together. Waving his hands around seemed to help him concentrate, but he had learned that he didn’t actually need to do so. If he could master magic without even moving, well, that would <i>really</i> be something.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Summer though it might be, the air grew chillier the further north they went, until one morning Erik spied specks of white hanging on the branches of a pine. By the end of that day the ground was fairly covered in crackling snow. Erik and Kari spent a while tromping around in it, laughing and throwing clods of dirty snow at one another. Sure, they might be on some grand, dangerous adventure; but there was no reason they couldn’t have fun, was there? Even if the grown-ups all muttered disapprovingly. Well, that just made it more fun.<br />
<br />
But the relative novelty of snow wore off in a day or so, when they found themselves tromping through it for hours on end. Since the farms where they’d left the rest of the Bjarheimers, they’d seen only one small settlement, a trading outpost that hadn’t been any use to them. This far north, there was virtually no habitation by anything recognizably human. Erik remembered hearing stories of forest trolls as a child, but Finnar and Ollemar and Aiar didn’t mention it, so he kept quiet about it.<br />
<br />
The land was quiet here, too. There were a few animals about: snow hares and foxes, snowy owls with their vast wings. Even, once, a family of bears, frolicking in the snow down in a rocky glen. Finnar and Ollemar were able to trap game now and then, to supplement what they had in their packs.<br />
<br />
Eventually even the animals stopped appearing, and the trees began to grow sparse. The snowdrifts got deeper, and Erik spent as much time wading through the snow as he did stopping to rest afterward. He began to dread the sight of the tough elk jerky he pulled from his pack for every meal.<br />
<br />
Around midday, ten days into their trek, they came to the crest of a ridge, a black and rocky outcrop that stretched out of sight to either side of them. “The Styggen,” Finnar murmured.<br />
<br />
Beyond the outcrop, at the bottom of a long, steep slope, lay a landscape even more desolate. Jagged spikes of dark rock leaned drunkenly upon one another. The ice between them was an unearthly blue, smooth and clear, and completely free of snow. There were straight square pillars of stone, lighter than the rock spikes and… <i>thicker,</i> somehow, soaring upward. They looked like something wrought by the hands of men. Not like the spikes, which somehow seemed wrong and evil.<br />
<br />
But the whole of it was suffused with a golden glow that Erik had never seen before. It looked like warmth to him, even though the air was as biting as he’d ever felt it. The golden light flowed and banded around the rocky spikes, seeming to move.<br />
<br />
“I think I see… some magic,” Erik said, completely uncertain, but tingling with excitement. Here, right here, there was a <i>third</i> kind of magic for him to learn. Somehow, the prospect didn’t feel like a weight on his shoulders, as it did with the fae and Brandrinn magic. He itched to dive into the golden veil and see what it felt like.<br />
<br />
“What sort?” Aiar said.<br />
<br />
“Not fae or Brandrinn. It’s the wrong color. It’s like… a thin gold curtain’s been hung over the whole place.”<br />
<br />
“Ironspeaker magic,” Finnar said. “I’ve heard them speak of gold light before.”<br />
<br />
“What does it mean?” Kari said. “What does it look like?”<br />
<br />
Erik shrugged. “It’s got no shape, just a big golden flow. Like a river, almost. But if that’s ironspeaker magic, then Djalgand Skaldi must be here! Let’s go!”<br />
<br />
He excitedly began to clamber over the last few feet of the ridge, but powerful hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back. “Not yet,” Finnar said. “We need to be careful. A man doesn’t live in a place like this ’less he’s tryin’ to stay away from folk.”<br />
<br />
“Well we can’t just leave him there,” Erik whined. He <i>had</i> to go in there. He pulled against his Da’s hands, but Finnar did not yield.<br />
<br />
“What’s gotten into you?” Aiar said, suddenly worried. “You’re an excitable youth of an excitable race, but I’ve never seen you <i>this</i> agitated.” He turned to Ollemar. “A trap? Some kind of ward, perhaps.”<br />
<br />
“I am forced to agree,” Ollemar said. “To rush in would be foolish.”<br />
<br />
But couldn’t they see how important this was? Erik <i>had</i> to find Djalgand Skaldi! To come all this way, only to stop now…<br />
<br />
Aiar began waving his hands. Erik dragged his gaze away from the golden ruins below and saw Aiar make some sort of large flat plate of fae energy, as tall as a tall man and half again as wide. He pushed it in front of Erik, partly blocking his view of the valley.<br />
<br />
The shield Aiar had woven was vaguely interesting, and the more Erik looked at it, the more intrigued he became. In a few moments, although he was still aware of the valley beyond, he did not feel quite so compelled to visit it. He did still want to find Djalgand Skaldi, of course. And wasn’t it important that they found him quickly? “We should still go down there,” Erik said. “Er… shouldn’t we?” He glanced up at his father, and then at Aiar and Ollemar and Kari.<br />
<br />
They all had their eyes wide open, staring at him. “Did you all notice that?” Aiar said.<br />
<br />
“Notice what—” Erik began, but then Ollemar swung his staff up and began weaving his own shield. In a few moments he completed it and placed it before Erik, overlapping Aiar’s. All of a sudden, the valley beyond looked like a cold and forbidding place. He could still see the golden light, but it had gone paler now, more like desiccated straw than the gold of fresh flax. “What’s going on?”<br />
<br />
Finnar grunted. “There’s some sort of glamor on you, making you want to rush down into the valley. Unless I miss my guess, Aiar and Ollemar put shields between you an’ the gold light. Right?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar nodded. Aiar said, “Djalgand Skaldi clearly does not want visitors. I do not doubt that there are multiple wards of ironspeaker magic in place. One, large and powerful, that seems to only affect those who can see ironspeaker magic. Perhaps Djalgand feared that other ironspeakers might come after him. The <i>other</i> wards… Well, we can only speculate what they might do to someone who stupidly blundered into them.” He eyed Erik.<br />
<br />
The ramifications began to dawn on Erik. <i>He</i> hadn’t wanted to go down into the valley; some magic had tried to compel him. “If there are other wards down there… we’ll have to get rid of them, if we want to get to Djalgand. But how?”<br />
<br />
“You’re going to have to learn ironspeaker magic real quick,” Kari said. “Else we’ve got no choice but to turn back. And I didn’t come all this way to just give up on Bjarheim!”<br />
<br />
“She’s right,” Aiar said, glaring at Kari anyway. “Only you can see the weavings. We must get you close enough so that you can destroy them before they harm us.”<br />
<br />
“Wait. You want to go <i>into</i> the trap?” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“Unless you have a better idea,” Aiar said. “And Erik is going to lead the way.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Ultimately they ended up lashing Erik to his father with rope. Finnar was so much larger and stronger than Erik that even if the ironspeaker’s glamor took hold of Erik again, he wouldn’t be able to pull his father along. It made for awkward movement, though. Erik let himself be shuffled along by his Da, skidding down through the snow on the steep ridge. Finnar ended up leaning back so far that he was more or less scooting along on his rear, with Erik hanging from his belly.<br />
<br />
The way down was treacherous for them all. Aiar and Ollemar couldn’t keep the shields steady, and Erik felt the pull of the valley again and again. He knew it wasn’t real, that it was the magic drawing him in, but that didn’t make it any less enticing. When the shields wavered, everything else became unimportant.<br />
<br />
They finally made it to the bottom, to the clear blue ice that, oddly, was not slippery, but felt more like stone. Erik could feel the chill of it through his boots.<br />
<br />
He still saw the golden dome looming overhead; they’d passed through its outer wall at some point. “Why did we stop?” he whined. “We have to keep going!”<br />
<br />
Aiar and Ollemar pushed their shields in place again, and Erik felt the glamor fall away. This was exhausting him, this constant wavering between desire and fear. And he hadn’t even done any magic yet.<br />
<br />
“Where’s the first ward?” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
“There.” Erik pointed at the base of one of the jagged spikes of dark rock. There was a golden wire strung between it and another spike a few dozen yards away, at about knee level. Almost like… “A tripwire,” he said, shuddering.<br />
<br />
“This is going to be delicate,” Aiar said. “We can’t see it, and we have to keep the shields in place, or you’ll try to run off.”<br />
<br />
“I ain’t undoing these ropes,” Finnar grunted at the fae. “If you slip, and he runs off into the wards—”<br />
<br />
“I won’t slip, but it would not do to be incautious.” Aiar turned to Kari. “You. Stay right there.”<br />
<br />
“I’m not—”<br />
<br />
Aiar grabbed her by the arms and lifted her five feet straight up. “You will <i>stay there.</i>” He set her down without another word and turned away. Kari got the message, because she had frozen stock-still, glowering at Aiar but clearly unwilling to test the fae further.<br />
<br />
Erik wanted to have her by his side. He tore his gaze away and looked back at the ward. “Let’s go. One step at a time.”<br />
<br />
Finnar trudged forward, Erik matching his strides. He held up a hand when they were a few strides away, and his Da came to a stop. Aiar and Ollemar crept up beside them, staying back half a step just to be safe. “There,” Erik said, pointing down. This close, the golden wire glittered and shifted, tiny ripples skittering back and forth along its surface almost too fast for the eye to track.<br />
<br />
<i>Now what?</i> Ironspeakers sang their magic, didn’t they? Erik didn’t have much of a voice. When everyone gathered at feasts and hearths, and sang the old songs of the north, Erik always just hummed along. He started humming now, partly just to distract himself, and partly—<br />
<br />
The golden wire vibrated, shivering up and down as if plucked. Erik stopped his humming, and the wire came to rest. He hummed some more, experimenting, trying to discern any pattern.<br />
<br />
“I assume something is happening,” Aiar said. Erik was annoyed by his impatience. How fast did he think something was going to happen? He ignored the fae, and hummed louder. The wire vibrated more, and Erik began to hear <i>its</i> sound, matching his own. He hummed high and low, and the wire vibrated faster and slower in response. He pushed the pitch up as high as he could—<br />
<br />
The wire snapped, splitting right in its center, the two halves whipping apart as if they’d been under great tension. Erik jerked back, and clenched his right hand where one of the wires had slashed at it. There was a great red welt across the palm, and it burned like the seven hells. He jammed his hand into the snow to try and stop the pain.<br />
<br />
“What happened?” Ollemar said. Erik looked and saw that the two halves of the wire had wrapped themselves around the base of each jagged rock spike. From the broken end of each wire floated a soft golden mist, and he realized that the broken wires were dissolving. Within a minute, both wires had hissed away, like wicks left burning too long.<br />
<br />
“I… I don’t know. I sang at the wire, and it broke.” He pulled his hand out of the snow. The welt was still an angry scarlet. “I’m going to have to try from farther away next time.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t bother,” a voice echoed from the pillars ahead of them. “It’d only be a matter of time before you got through, and clearly you don’t know a ‘keep out’ sign when you see one.” Erik squinted through the golden haze. A stout man wearing a beard and a leather apron under several layers of fur stood before one of the square stone pillars.<br />
<br />
<i>Djalgand Skaldi.</i> And he did <i>not</i> look happy.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2014/01/bjarheims-shadow-part-xv.html">Part XV</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-89843479487298930552013-05-28T13:05:00.001-07:002013-06-20T23:44:55.362-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIIISorry this one's late—the usual excuses, etc.<br />
<br />
<hr width="50%" />
<br />
If you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">XII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XIII</b></div>
<br />
No one batted an eye at Aiar’s pronouncement. Erik heard no shouts of “Impossible!” Emuar’s eyes had gone wide, then narrowed, considering. Ollemar furrowed his brow and looked down at the ground. Finnar ground to a halt and set Erik down, and the rest of the party stopped for a breather.<br />
<br />
“You cast great doubt upon our prophecy, and now you mean to expand it?” Ollemar said after a while.<br />
<br />
“I could not possibly care less for your metaphysics,” Aiar sniffed. “I am simply extrapolating based on what we have seen. The Shadow that attacked us—”<br />
<br />
“It was Remy,” Erik interjected. His legs still felt weak, but he could at least stand up without falling over. He sat down anyway and rubbed at his muscles, hoping that would do some good.<br />
<br />
“Indeed. When we fought back with two magics, he did—whatever that was, that trick with the shadows. A desperate move, for it seems he destroyed himself on a gamble to annihilate us. And yet our attack against him did <i>not</i> destroy him, though it did seem to do great damage.”<br />
<br />
“Tossed us ass over teakettle,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
“Such a way with words,” Aiar said, crouching down upon a fallen log. “He batted aside the first attack, which I gather consisted solely of forest magic. Our second strike combined both Brandrinn and fae magic. It did damage, but did not destroy him. And yet he panicked and sacrificed himself. If that attack did not defeat him, does it seem likely that it would be able to defeat the Shadow that enveloped Bjarheim?”<br />
<br />
“It might, if we had time to weave something greater. The shield we wove at the Vângr was immense compared to any other magic I’ve ever seen.”<br />
<br />
Aiar shook his head. “I do not think it would work. I think we need an ironspeaker to complete the weaving.”<br />
<br />
“Even if that were correct, where are we going to find an ironspeaker?” Emuar tapped his staff irritably on the ground, and Erik saw that the elder Brandrinn kept staring back through the trees toward where Remy had obliterated them. “I thought they were all in Bjarheim. Finnar, you said none escaped.”<br />
<br />
“All of them <i>are</i> in Bjarheim… except one.” Finnar paused, considering his words. “Djalgand Skaldi lives in the north. Djalgand the Skysinger, they call him.” He stared around at everyone. “Other names, too.”<br />
<br />
“Who is he? Why did he leave Bjarheim?” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“I’m not sure. It was before I left the forest. Master Halgrin wouldn’t speak of it, and I only ever heard… rumors.”<br />
<br />
“I have heard this name,” Emuar said. “Powerful, and dangerous. He seems to be a man out of legend.”<br />
<br />
“He’s real,” Finnar insisted. “And we’ve got to find him.”<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted. “Presumably you have a better lead than simply ‘north.’ The north is quite vast, you know.”<br />
<br />
“He lives somewhere in the… the Styggen.”<br />
<br />
Emuar jerked upright. “Are you insane?”<br />
<br />
“That’s what Halgrin told me! I wasn’t about to call the man a liar to his face. And anyway, what choice do we have?”<br />
<br />
Erik blinked. “What’s the Styggen?” He looked around. All the grown-ups looked sick, or angry, or frightened.<br />
<br />
Finnar seemed to be grasping for words. No one wanted to speak. Finally Aiar came and sat next to Erik. “The Styggen is a frozen waste in the north.”<br />
<br />
“What’s so scary about that? And why would this Djalgand want to live there?”<br />
<br />
“What’s scary about it is that the Styggen used to be a paradise. Well, as paradisiacal as the frozen north can get. There was a war there, centuries ago, a war of magic. Even before my time, which gives you some idea. Besides its general inhospitability, the whole place is considered cursed.” He eyed Emuar. “I will not speculate on the intelligence of any man who gives such rumors credence.”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn ignored him. “If this ironspeaker is in the Styggen… I would wonder how he was still alive.”<br />
<br />
“Well if he is, we’ve got to find him,” Erik demanded. “Why are we just sitting around here?”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
They reached the edge of the forest two days later. There they found a small farming community nestled against the forest’s edge, spilling out into the plains beyond. These folk knew the Brandrinn, and were willing to help feed and house the Bjarheimers for a while. Kari would be remaining here along with her parents, Sannfred told Erik. Gaelle had hustled her away in the confusion of their arrival in what passed for the town’s square. Erik tried to argue but Sannfred turned and stalked away, and then Finnar was suddenly dragging Erik in the other direction.<br />
<br />
They found the Brandrinn gathered on the road leading back toward the forest. Aiar stood near them, but distinctly apart, eyeing the men coolly. Even after all that had happened, the fae still did not seem to quite trust the woodsmen.<br />
<br />
“We cannot leave the forest for long,” Emuar said once Erik and Finnar arrived. Erik still kept glancing back, hoping Kari had somehow escaped, but there was no sign of her.<br />
<br />
Finnar smacked him on the shoulder. “Pay attention.” Erik grumbled and turned around.<br />
<br />
“We’ve been tied to the forest for years. Decades, in some cases,” Emuar went on. “To leave the forest for long would drive us mad.” He looked at Ollemar. “Except you, brother. You are still young.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar ducked his head. “I will travel with them?”<br />
<br />
“Yes. Once you find this ironspeaker—<i>if</i> you find him—go to Bjarheim and… help them.”<br />
<br />
“What about you? The prophecy says that Odinson will bind <i>all</i> of us. If you are here—”<br />
<br />
“I know what it says! Let the prophecy worry about itself.” Emuar tapped his staff irritably upon the dirt. “It matters not, unless you find the ironspeaker.”<br />
<br />
“We will,” Finnar said. “Aiar, will you accompany us?”<br />
<br />
“Indeed,” the fae said, tilting his chin up but keeping his gaze steady on Erik. “Someone has to keep the boy from blowing himself up.”<br />
<br />
Emuar snorted. “Then it is settled. Ollemar, and Finnar, and the fae will escort the boy north to find the ironspeaker.”<br />
<br />
“Just four of us?” Erik said, nervous. “What if the Shadow attacks again?”<br />
<br />
“More warm bodies will do you no good,” Emuar said. “Your magic will be all that can protect you. And from what I have seen, you are quite well-prepared on that front.”<br />
<br />
“Horses would be welcomed,” Finnar said, almost absently. “It’s a long way to the Styggen.”<br />
<br />
Emuar snorted. “Has city life made you soft? Your feet were good enough when you were with us in the forest.”<br />
<br />
“I am not in the forest, and my concern is not for my feet. My concern is for time.”<br />
<br />
Emuar shrugged. “The farmers do not have beasts to spare.”<br />
<br />
That put an end to the conversation. The Brandrinn had gathered together what amounted to a week’s worth of provisions for Erik, Finnar, and Ollemar. Aiar insisted that he did not need anything, triggering some skeptical looks from the Brandrinn, but they weren’t about to go out of their way to help a fae who didn’t want it.<br />
<br />
It was nearing evening by this point, so Erik and Finnar were sent to sleep in a nearby barn. Ollemar returned to the forest for the night, promising to return at dawn. Aiar showed up not long after Erik and Finnar had lain down to sleep, saying that he preferred the indoors. He burrowed under some hay and went silent.<br />
<br />
Erik could not keep his eyes closed, even though it was dark. “Da?” he asked softly, after several minutes of listening to cows snoring.<br />
<br />
“Hm?” Finnar sounded sleepy, but Erik’s Da slept like a rock. He wouldn’t have replied if he actually was asleep.<br />
<br />
“Emuar said that Brandrinn can’t leave the forest or they go mad. How did you leave?”<br />
<br />
It was so long before Finnar replied that Erik thought he might have fallen asleep. But finally his Da sat up and stared at him in the darkness. There was barely enough reflected starlight to make out Finnar’s silhouette against the wall. “I left because I wasn’t any use to them any more. I… lost my magic.”<br />
<br />
“How? I didn’t know that was possible.”<br />
<br />
“That’s a story for when you’re older, lad.”<br />
<br />
“How much older do I need to be? We’re being chased by the Shadow! Isn’t that enough?” Erik could tell he was glowering, not that Finnar would be able to see it. “I’m not afraid.”<br />
<br />
“I’m not worried ’bout scaring you, boy. You just ain’t had the experience to understand it. Now sleep,” he said, and it was clearly final.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Ollemar returned at dawn, as promised, and after a quick breakfast, courtesy of the farmwife whose barn they’d slept in, they were on the north road. The air was still, and the dust they kicked up lingered long behind them. Erik looked back after a few minutes; the scattered farmhouses were barely visible.<br />
<br />
It was still summer, but in the north, summer is a threadbare thing. Erik savored the warm sunlight on his neck and arms, until pale clouds swept in and dulled everything. The pack he carried was the smallest of the four, of course, but it felt like it was dragging him back. He resolved not to complain, or even to stop unless the others did. Sure, he could use magic; that wouldn’t stop his Da from commenting if Erik showed that he couldn’t even walk a few miles with a pack. “How far is it to the Styggen?” he asked.<br />
<br />
“A week at least, afoot,” Finnar said. “Horses would save us some days, and a lot o’ strain on our feet.”<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted, but said nothing. He’d been quiet all morning, perhaps mulling something over. Erik decided that, as their party numbered only four, they’d best get used to one another’s company. “Could you teach me something this morning?” he asked the fae.<br />
<br />
Aiar turned to stare at Erik without slowing his pace. “Yes, I suppose I could. Our adventure in the forest seems to have given you some experience. I still would like to know how you made that shield so easily, just before Remy annihilated everything.”<br />
<br />
Erik shrugged. “I dunno. It just came to me, like it was obvious. I sort of remember…” He held out a hand and waggled it, bouncing the violet ball around as he focused on the <i>methar</i>. A tiny, feeble simulacrum of the shield appeared above his hand, then dissipated when he tripped on a rock and stumbled. Embarrassed, he added, “And it wasn’t easy. It nearly drained the life out of me.”<br />
<br />
“Surely you must have noticed the threads.”<br />
<br />
“Threads?” When Aiar said nothing, Erik thought about it. Threads? The fae magic he’d woven, and seen woven… it seemed to manifest as cords of violet light writhing in the air. He could weave such a cord now, even if it would amount to nothing and dissipate when he let it go. Making the magic last, that was another trick he didn’t understand yet.<br />
<br />
He stared at the cord. It wobbled and snapped, like a discarded snakeskin twisting in the wind. How was he supposed to examine it if it wouldn’t stop moving? His pack felt heavier by the step; that wasn’t helping his concentration any either.<br />
<br />
He tried grabbing at it with his hand, and it simply slithered away, as if repelled by his touch. <i>Stop moving, damn you,</i> he thought at it—and it did, freezing in midair.<br />
<br />
Then something slipped, and it started moving again. “I—did you see that? I felt like I was holding it still with… with my mind,” he finished.<br />
<br />
“You were, but your grasp is weak. You must practice.”<br />
<br />
“That thing, was that a thread?”<br />
<br />
“No. A line of magic that bright is many threads, all bound together. You will have to examine them much in order to discern the threads. Working with fae magic is a matter of weaving the threads and bending them to your will.” Aiar sighed. “It normally takes years to master, but I suspect you will have it in a day or two.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t give the boy a big head,” Finnar warned.<br />
<br />
“As your son, I believe he is already doomed to such a fate,” Aiar said, and laughed when Finnar scowled at him.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik continued poking at the cords and trying to make out the individual threads as they walked. The farmland around them didn’t last long; by afternoon the land had grown bumpy, and there were hills on the horizon ahead. When the sun set, they made camp by the side of the road. Erik had not expected much traffic, but he realized that they hadn’t seen <i>anyone</i> since leaving the farms that morning. He didn’t care much; he was just so relieved to put his pack down.<br />
<br />
Ollemar was pacing nervously as Finnar stoked up a campfire. “Is something wrong?” Erik asked the young Brandrinn.<br />
<br />
As was his habit, Ollemar repeatedly tapped his staff on the ground. He looked as if he was restraining himself from smashing something. “I have not been this far from the forest in some years,” he said finally, not looking at Erik. In fact he was staring back along the road. The forest proper was far out of sight; there were scattered trees here and there, a copse of gumleaf a hundred yards down the road.<br />
<br />
“You’ll be all right,” Erik said, not being able to think of much else. “Can you teach me something?” He’d asked Aiar earlier; it was only fair.<br />
<br />
Ollemar demurred at first, so Erik pestered him. Eventually the Brandrinn squatted down beside Erik. “You have felt the flow of magic. But all magic stems from life. With practice, you will be able to sense life all around you. It is one of the most critical skills of a Brandrinn.”<br />
<br />
“Is it a kind of magic?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar shook his head. “There is no weaving involved, no pattern. It is simply something you sense, as if you can hear it, see it, even with your eyes closed.” Ollemar shut his own eyes to demonstrate. “The fae is there.” He pointed, with perfect accuracy. “Your father, there.” Again. “And…” He sprang to his feet and whirled about, staff held parallel to the ground, ready to strike. “Someone is out there.”<br />
<br />
Erik leapt up, and in a moment both Finnar and Aiar were beside him. There was someone out on the road, looming in the darkness; he could hear their feet scuffing the dirt and pebbles. “Who is that?” he shouted.<br />
<br />
“It’s me, you idiots,” Kari’s voice came back. Erik’s jaw dropped. Twilight silhouetted her, and Erik realized that he’d mistaken her for someone much larger due to the pack she wore. She finally came in range of the campfire, and, breathing hard, dropped her pack on the ground.<br />
<br />
“Girl, what in the world are you doing here? Do your parents know you’ve come?” Finnar demanded.<br />
<br />
“By now, probably. My Da wouldn’t have let me go if he’d known, would he?”<br />
<br />
“You foolish girl, your parents are probably terrified!”<br />
<br />
Kari stared at Finnar as if he’d said something particularly stupid. “I left them a note. They know where I am.” She came over to Erik and, with no warning, punched him in the arm. “That’s for going without me.”<br />
<br />
“What?! I didn’t know you’d run away!”<br />
<br />
She smirked at him.<br />
<br />
“…but I suppose I should have guessed, huh?”<br />
<br />
A real smile finally flitted across her lips. “Yeah. Dummy.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.<br />
<br />
Aiar had no particular care for Kari, but the fae had watched this all with amusement. “And what if your father comes looking for you?” he wondered aloud.<br />
<br />
“Then I’ll tell him to go stuff himself again,” she said.<br />
<br />
“We’re not going to take her back to her Da, are we?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“We’d have to waste a whole day backtracking, and another whole day returning to this very spot,” Aiar pointed out. “Hardly efficient.” He glanced at Kari’s pack. “She seems well-supplied.”<br />
<br />
Finnar threw his hands up. “Fine. But if you cause us trouble, girl, I’ll stripe your hide from here to Ragnarok, and your father’ll likely thank me for it.”<br />
<br />
Kari flipped her hair at him and went over to the fire. Erik exchanged glances with the other men, then went to sit next to Kari.<br />
<br />
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “But it’s going to be dangerous.”<br />
<br />
She smirked at him again. “You think I’d rather sit in a farmhouse for a month with my family? They were gonna put us all to work around the farm. ‘No freeloaders,’ the farmwife said.”<br />
<br />
“It’s not a prison sentence.”<br />
<br />
She laughed. “It is, compared to going off on an adventure like you are.”<br />
<br />
Erik scratched at the dirt with his boot. “I’m startin’ to think that adventures aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Wouldn’t you rather be home safe in Bjarheim?”<br />
<br />
For the first time that evening, the smirk disappeared from her face. “I… Of course I would.”<br />
<br />
Erik glanced off to the north. The sky was deep azure now, the stars revealing themselves. “We’ve got a long way to go. And a long way back before we can save Bjarheim. I hope…”<br />
<br />
“Hope what?”<br />
<br />
He met her eyes again. “That there’s something left to save.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/06/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiv.html">Part XIV</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-14023290543460109952013-05-15T00:12:00.000-07:002013-05-28T13:08:04.165-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIIIf you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">XI</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XII</b></div>
<br />
“Odin’s beard!” Kari said. Erik started, not realizing she’d come to his side. “Is that…?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah. With friends. What happened to him?”<br />
<br />
“This shield won’t hold forever!” Emuar shouted at them.<br />
<br />
“Maybe we can weave something else?” Ollemar said. He’d taken up station on Erik’s other side, holding out his staff nervously, as if he might somehow ward off the attack.<br />
<br />
“I don’t know how to weave <i>anything</i>,” Erik protested. “But I can give you my strength.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t overdo it,” said Finnar, coming up behind Erik. “If you drain your reserves—either of you—someone might have to carry you, and that’ll make things harder.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar nodded tightly. Erik gulped and held out his hand again, creating the green orb. He so badly wanted to learn how to wield magic himself, rather than just being a passive vessel for those with more experience—but when would he ever have time, with this constant assault? Aiar and Ollemar had barely been able to teach him anything. He’d stumbled across one thing or another, but none of it made any sense.<br />
<br />
Ollemar wove something different this time, something sharp and pointed. He worked frantically, Erik could tell, racing against the Shadow’s assault. The shield over their heads rang time and again as the great dark tendrils slammed into it. Erik thought he heard a crack, and looked up.<br />
<br />
Part of the shield had begun to unravel.<br />
<br />
“Hurry!” Emuar said, needlessly, as if Erik and Ollemar weren’t doing all they could.<br />
<br />
Ollemar had fashioned something in the shape of a cone, but tapered at the broad end. It was crude, with none of the beauty and grace of the shields they’d woven. Ollemar flung it down at the ground, and it slipped into the earth, not even disturbing the soil.<br />
<br />
“What was that?” Erik asked. Before Ollemar could reply, the arrow—or whatever it was—erupted from the earth, halfway between the shield and Remy. It arced through the air, spitting off green sparks, and dove toward Remy and the other ghostly forms around him.<br />
<br />
One of the shadowy tendrils whipped at the arrow. The arrow cracked and split into a shower of whirling emerald fragments, which dissipated and vanished in an eyeblink. The shadowy tendril had vanished as well, but another replaced it a moment later.<br />
<br />
But Remy’s assault had slowed. Slightly. After only a few seconds’ pause, the tendrils came again, attacking once more.<br />
<br />
“I don’t think that did much,” Erik said. “We need to combine the magics. Aiar, help him!”<br />
<br />
The fae grimaced. “I’ve never made such a thing. Magic of the arcane does not—”<br />
<br />
“Shut up and do it!” Erik shouted. “We don’t have time!”<br />
<br />
Aiar looked about ready to split bark with his teeth. Nonetheless, he turned away from Erik and began to draw violet lines in the air. Erik pushed his own power to supply Aiar, and Ollemar, who looked frazzled, began to build another arrow.<br />
<br />
Aiar strengthened it with his own magic, until it was a solid amber mass; the green and violet energies had become so intertwined that Erik almost couldn’t tell them apart.<br />
<br />
Erik glanced back nervously. The other Brandrinn had, perhaps instinctively, surrounded the Bjarheimers. What protection they could give if the Shadow broke through, Erik had no idea. Sannfred Frey clutched his children while Gaelle looked like she would pound Remy with her fists if she got the chance. They all seemed terrified.<br />
<br />
Erik glanced at the arrow again. It was completely solid now. Ollemar prodded it with his staff, and it glided effortlessly along. With a flick of the wrist the Brandrinn sent it hurtling toward Remy.<br />
<br />
Another dark tendril slashed at it, but this time the arrow continued on, unimpeded, while the tendril vanished. Erik saw Remy’s dark form scrambling to do something, and then—<br />
<br />
Everything went green and purple. Erik felt thumps all along his body, and then one final crash as he hit the ground, dizzy. He was lying on someone. Emuar. The light had changed all around them.<br />
<br />
The shield was gone.<br />
<br />
“We’ve—” Erik wobbled as he tried to stand up. His ears were ringing, and he could barely hear his own voice. Everyone had been knocked askew; he saw blood here and there. The Brandrinn sprang to their feet almost at once, followed shortly by the Bjarheimers. “We’ve got to… got to get the shield back,” he said to the air.<br />
<br />
No one replied. He looked at the forest. The shadowy tendrils were gone; a number of trees near where Remy had stood had been blasted to shards, leaving only jagged stumps behind. There was a great blue gap in the canopy overhead. It was the most sky Erik had seen in days.<br />
<br />
There was something moving over there. Slowly, wretchedly, a pale hand reached up over a shattered pine trunk. The arm it was attached to came into view, followed by Remy Thurain’s face, streaked with blood and fury.<br />
<br />
The other shapes, the ghoulish red eyes that had been beside him, were gone. The shadowy fog had vanished. Remy said something, his mouth moving, but Erik couldn’t hear anything. Maybe he was too far away; maybe he was muttering to himself.<br />
<br />
Erik’s companions all watched Remy, unsure if he would try to attack again. Erik thought about making another shield, but Ollemar was leaning heavily on his staff, and Aiar blinked at the sky, looking confused and distracted.<br />
<br />
“We should get out of here,” someone said through the haze in Erik’s ears. Erik recognized Kari’s voice. She was unharmed, blessedly, miraculously.<br />
<br />
Remy then emitted a great wail, and all the shadows in the forest began to <i>move</i>. Slowly they slithered away from their rightful places and crawled along toward the cleft where Remy stood. Erik’s own shadow detached itself like a dried scab peeling away, and crept toward Remy.<br />
<br />
Remy didn’t move. As the various shadows drew close to him, he seemed to grow darker, as if the sun could no longer touch him. Erik sensed a terrible darkness emanating from him. Aiar and all the Brandrinn stiffened, recoiling.<br />
<br />
“The girl is right. Go. <i>NOW!</i>” Emuar turned and sprinted away from Remy. No one else had to be encouraged. In seconds, the entire party was running hell for leather in the opposite direction.<br />
<br />
A torrent of shadows slid along the ground past them, and toward Remy. Not everyone in the party could move at speed; Sannfred Fray, the biggest and heaviest among the Bjarheimers, fell behind, while the Brandrinn kept in the lead. Ilvha, perhaps driven by a mother’s fierce instincts, was right behind them.<br />
<br />
Kari could easily have kept pace with the Brandrinn, but she slowed to keep pace with her father. Erik did too. Aiar had recovered from his trance; with his long legs and loping stride, he could easily have taken the lead, but he stuck in the middle of the pack, exhorting the slower folk to keep up.<br />
<br />
The shadows beneath their feet moved ever faster. Erik felt a great darkness growing behind them. He chanced a look back—and tripped, banging his head on the ground. Something sharp stabbed his cheek and he screamed.<br />
<br />
Someone lifted him in strong arms—Finnar Rain. His Da slung Erik over his shoulder and bowled onward. Despite the jarring bounces and the pain in his face, the terrifying sense that the Shadow was about to engulf them all grew ever stronger. Erik tried to look up; the Brandrinn had pulled far enough ahead that he could barely see Emuar in their lead.<br />
<br />
“No…” he muttered. He knew what was coming. He could taste it, smell it. <i>Where? Where do we go?…</i> There, <i>there</i> it was! “To the… into the… there…” He pointed feebly. “Into… th… that creek…”<br />
<br />
Finnar turned his head a little. “What? What are you saying, boy?”<br />
<br />
“We… have to…” <i>Get into the creek, don’t you see?</i> It was the only place they’d be safe. “There. Into… the <i>creek!</i>”<br />
<br />
Finnar finally caught on. “Hey! Over there!” he waved frantically at the Brandrinn up ahead. Some of them slowed and turned to look. Finnar leapt over a rock and slid down the sloping earth toward a little rivulet of water that had dug something of a trench here. It wasn’t all that deep, but it would be enough… it would have to…<br />
<br />
Finnar put Erik down as the others followed him into the trench. The banks of the creek angled up sharply, a good seven or eight feet above their heads.<br />
<br />
“How is this supposed to protect us?” Emuar said, leaping lightly down the opposing bank and coming to land next to Erik.<br />
<br />
Erik sat up, wiping at the pain on his face. His whole hand came away bloody. <i>Not now.</i> “A… shield… I need to make a shield…”<br />
<br />
Emuar looked at Ollemar, who’d alighted next to him. “We can try, but we’re getting tired, boy—”<br />
<br />
“No—time—” When they did it, they were so <i>slow</i>. Erik had to do it. “I… I have to.” He pulled the <i>methar</i> and the Seed out of his mind, and pushed them together before him. Together, they would be strong. Strong enough… to save them… His strength was slipping away…<br />
<br />
“You can’t!” Aiar said. He crouched down next to Erik. “You’re wounded, and you don’t know how to use magic properly yet—”<br />
<br />
But he could see it now. The twin globes of energy pulsing before him, the green and violet, were just tools. He started pushing them together, wrapping them around each other, drawing them out into tangled skeins, reinforcing the web. He felt like a child, finger-painting with mud on the cobbles, random patterns that somehow had meaning… A voice, calling out, lilting in the wind… His mother, entreating him to come inside, dear, <i>it’s getting dark out there…</i><br />
<br />
The shield spun upward and settled over the creek. Everyone crouched beneath it. Erik felt his last strength fall away.<br />
<br />
The forest canopy, up above the shield, disappeared into a uniform gray mist that grew darker and darker. Erik lay back beside the creek, fighting to keep his eyes open, as he watched it. There came a colossal roar, as if Odin had breathed his great wrath onto the land. The gray mist vanished, leaving only blue sky and bright sun. Erik closed his eyes and smiled at the warmth on his face.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
When his eyes blinked open, the sky was still blue above, but a darker shade, as if evening had begun to contemplate its approach. The sun was glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. There were no leaves or branches visible above; and the shield he’d woven was gone.<br />
<br />
He sat up into a coughing fit; someone pushed a waterskin to his lips and he drank, not knowing or caring where it had come from. It tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever had.<br />
<br />
Erik looked around. Everyone was still there; Aiar stared dubiously at him, while Ollemar and the other Brandrinn crouched a short distance away, with something in their eyes that… Fear? Why would they fear him? He didn’t see Emuar among them. Or Finnar.<br />
<br />
The Bjarheimers sat across the creek in a circle, looking weary and frightened. The Frays were all huddled together, gnawing on some sort of jerky, while Ilvha nursed her babe. Ludwin and Cesja lay in the grass, holding one another, possibly asleep. Thurgald watched outward, nervously fingering a stick he’d sharpened to a point.<br />
<br />
“What happened?” Erik mumbled past the cotton. He took another swig from the waterskin, then realized with a start why the sky was so blue.<br />
<br />
All the trees were gone. <i>All</i> of them.<br />
<br />
Kari cradled the waterskin beside him. “We don’t know what happened. Emuar and your Da are out looking.”<br />
<br />
Erik nodded. He wanted to go find them, but they’d come back soon. Even after sleeping, he felt so <i>weary…</i><br />
<br />
There was a scrape of dirt. Erik looked up the bank to see his father skidding down it, somehow keeping his huge bulk balanced as he slid down. Emuar followed, stepping lightly. “Good, you’re awake,” Finnar said. “You’d better come look.”<br />
<br />
Erik tried to stand but couldn’t; his legs gave out from under him, and he landed hard on his bottom. He tried again, to no avail. He was too tired to be frustrated, but why wouldn’t his legs work? And his face hurt, too. He belatedly recalled falling, a stabbing pain… He reached up and touched it. There was a trickle of blood still. He wiped it on his shirt and resolved to ignore it for now.<br />
<br />
Finnar grunted and picked him up. “You need rest, but… after.” He lurched back up the bank, to the forest floor above.<br />
<br />
Well, to what had <i>been</i> the forest floor. There were no standing trees for a stone’s throw in any direction. Farther, in some cases. A number of charred trunks lay flat on the ground, with jagged ends where they’d been torn from their roots. The narrow, upper ends were black and blasted, and not a single leaf or needle remained intact.<br />
<br />
Finnar carried him along some distance, and Erik started when he recognized the cleft in the land where Remy had been standing. It was a crater, deeper than Erik was tall, and wide enough that Erik probably couldn’t have thrown a pebble across it. The dead, blasted trees radiated outward from it like a sunburst.<br />
<br />
“What did he do?” Erik asked, after he’d been staring at the crater for several minutes.<br />
<br />
Emuar was nervously stalking around, although there was no way anything could be hiding out here. All available cover had been blown to smithereens. “The Shadow’s magic is not well-understood,” Emuar said. “We… we do not truly know what it is capable of.”<br />
<br />
“Did you see how he drew the shadows to him?” Finnar said. “I say he was using their power, to do… this. Whatever it is.”<br />
<br />
“But he killed himself?” Erik looked hard at the deepest part of the crater. There was nothing standing there; nothing to indicate that Remy might have survived. <i>Good riddance.</i> “Why would he do that?”<br />
<br />
“Maybe he thought he could stop you. But what you did… You saved us all.” Emuar gave a cold stare at Erik. “If the Shadow thinks you’re so important that it will sacrifice such a powerful agent, then you are <i>definitely</i> Odinson.”<br />
<br />
“Enough of that,” Finnar snapped. “The boy’s got enough on his mind already.” He turned and carried Erik back toward the creek.<br />
<br />
The land all around it was scarred and blasted; but the creek itself, the part that had been under the shield he’d woven, looked untouched. The creek was drying out; whatever had fed it had been destroyed by Remy’s explosion. They wouldn’t be able to stay here long.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Emuar and Finnar got everyone up and moving again. Erik’s legs were still wobbly, so he rode on his Da’s back.<br />
<br />
As vast as the devastation was, they reached its edge in a few minutes’ walk, and began to pass between trees that, while charred and pitted on the side facing the explosion, were still standing. “That particular threat is, for the moment, gone.” Emuar rubbed his chin as they walked. “I do not expect the Shadow to stop, though.”<br />
<br />
“We should return to Bjarheim,” Finnar said. “We must face the Shadow there, and retake the city.”<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted. “Despite young Erik’s power, it seems unlikely that he will be ready to face the Shadow again any time soon.” He regarded Erik sidelong. “Despite my vast knowledge, I have not studied your myths much. Odin is your chief deity, yes?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah. Odin Allfather,” Erik said. “He rules Asgard from his great hall, Valhalla.”<br />
<br />
“And he has three sons: Thor, Baldur, and Váli.”<br />
<br />
“Yes. Thor is the greatest of all warriors, Baldur is the wisest of all the gods, and Váli is the stealthiest and most cunning.”<br />
<br />
Aiar nodded. He no longer looked at Erik, but stared up at the trees. “There are only three known magics. There’s fae magic, of course, and the Brandrinn’s forest magic.” Erik heard only a slight note of disdain there. Aiar had made progress. Maybe working magic alongside Ollemar had begun to convince Aiar of the Brandrinn’s value. “And then there’s the song-magic of the ironspeakers.”<br />
<br />
“What are you on about?” Finnar said. He was beginning to breathe heavily, carrying Erik all this way, but Erik knew his Da would never admit to fatigue.<br />
<br />
“Perhaps it is just a coincidence—though at my age you stop dismissing things so easily. Baldur the wise, a deity who studies and thinks. Reminiscent of the fae, perhaps.”<br />
<br />
“Do not think to compare yourself to the gods,” Emuar warned.<br />
<br />
Aiar flicked a hand at him. “Then we have Váli, the sneaky and cunning. A hunter, as I recall. That makes me think of the Brandrinn.”<br />
<br />
All other conversation had stopped, and everyone listened raptly. <i>What is he getting at?</i> Erik wondered.<br />
<br />
“Thor, a deity of might, yes? I believe he is said to summon the very lightning to strike down his enemies. Did you know that ironspeakers use lightning in their magic? They guide it with their songs.”<br />
<br />
Erik stared at Aiar. “Thor sings a battle hymn to guide his strikes true.”<br />
<br />
Aiar turned to Emuar. “Brandrinn, your prophecy is wrong. Or rather, it doesn’t go far enough. Erik is not a child of two magics. He is going to unite <i>all three.</i>”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xiii.html">Part XIII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-62868652402577558682013-05-08T00:04:00.000-07:002013-05-15T00:13:48.244-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIIf you missed them, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">X</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART XI</b></div>
<br />
They ate and slept and rose. The sun still shone, the trees still stood. The Shadow had not yet penetrated the Vângr. Erik, Finnar, Aiar, and the Brandrinn gathered together in council. Kari came and sat next to Erik, ignoring the uneasy stares of the menfolk.<br />
<br />
“Whoever’s out there is mighty powerful,” Finnar said. “We’ve got to figure out how to get past them, or stop them.”<br />
<br />
“I do not know if we Brandrinn are up to the task,” Emuar said. His hostility from the previous day had faded. Now, Erik thought, he just looked worried.<br />
<br />
Emuar looked to Erik. “Your power, combined with ours, may be the only way.”<br />
<br />
“Could you teach us how to do what you did?” Ollemar asked.<br />
<br />
Erik shrugged at him. “I haven’t the slightest idea <i>what</i> I did. I just stood there while you did the work.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar frowned. “I wove the shield, but I did not draw the fae magic into it. That came from you.”<br />
<br />
“But I don’t know <i>how!</i>” Erik protested, frustrated at their insistence that he was somehow responsible for it.<br />
<br />
“Calm, my boy,” Finnar said. “It may be that your magic does what’s needed, without you taking a hand in it.”<br />
<br />
“That’s hardly reassuring,” Aiar said. “I should not like to rely on ‘what’s needed’ happening of its own accord.”<br />
<br />
“Have you got a better idea?” Finnar asked.<br />
<br />
“In fact I have.” He narrowed his eyes at Erik, considering. “That shield you wove yesterday—”<br />
<br />
“That <i>Ollemar</i> wove,” Erik insisted.<br />
<br />
“Yes, yes. Such a shield could be woven smaller, I presume, to protect people rather than trees.” He quirked an eyebrow at Ollemar.<br />
<br />
“I… Yes, it could, I suppose.”<br />
<br />
“And it could move with those people?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar blinked. “Uh…”<br />
<br />
“Such a thing has not been done,” Emuar interjected. “It is im—” He cut himself off. “Here I am, speaking of the impossible, when it sits before me.” His eyes bore into Erik.<br />
<br />
“It’s worth a shot,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
Finnar grunted and stood up. “I don’t see why not.”<br />
<br />
“Now?” Erik asked. This was all moving <i>very</i> quickly. But he stood up anyway.<br />
<br />
“Ollemar, begin,” Emuar said.<br />
<br />
“Do you not wish to do this yourself?” Ollemar asked. “You are the eldest—”<br />
<br />
“I will observe.” Emuar crossed his arms firmly. “Begin.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar gulped and turned to Erik. Erik girded himself, and held out his hand, producing two tiny balls of green and violet light. They floated calmly before him.<br />
<br />
Ollemar began to wave his staff again, but in smaller, more contained patterns. The shield took form, emitting light so intense that it competed with the sun. Then it subdued, evolving into the crystalline tapestry they’d seen the day before. Ollemar went slower this time, concentrating, sweat beading on his forehead. Erik had time to examine the shield, tracing its intricate patterns in and around and through one another.<br />
<br />
“I can’t…” Ollemar grunted and dropped to one knee, supporting himself with his runestaff. The shield floated there, unfinished; its edges began slowly unravelling. Erik tried to will it to hold place, but it was too complex. He could sense the <i>methar</i> in his mind, and the Seed the Brandrinn spoke of, but neither seemed to want to help him. The shield slowly dissipated until it was nothing.<br />
<br />
“I can’t make it small enough,” Ollemar said. “It needs to be small enough to contain us, so that the Shadow can’t enter. All I can do is make it slightly curved.”<br />
<br />
Aiar strode forward suddenly. “I will assist.”<br />
<br />
Some of the Brandrinn snorted. “How?” Emuar said. “You cannot wield both magics, the way this boy can.”<br />
<br />
“I have been studying magic longer than the lot of you have been alive, <i>combined</i>,” Aiar said. He turned to Ollemar. “Begin again, when you are ready.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar squinted at Aiar, then nodded. He stood and began to weave again. Erik felt the immense power of the fae and Brandrinn magics drawing forth from him, and watched the flows coalesce once more.<br />
<br />
But this time Aiar reached his hands out and began to tug here and there at the violet tendrils. “I cannot see the Brandrinn’s magic, directly, but I can tell where it is,” he said.<br />
<br />
“How?” Emuar asked, disbelieving.<br />
<br />
“By seeing where the fae magic is <i>not</i>. Erik, do you see any gaps in the weaving?”<br />
<br />
“Uh… no,” Erik said, realizing what Aiar was getting at. “It’s one solid piece.”<br />
<br />
“And thus if I pull like this…” Aiar twisted one violet tendril around his finger and tugged sharply. Several other tendrils jerked toward it; Erik saw the shield buckle slightly, and alarm rose in his throat.<br />
<br />
“Wait, no!” he shouted, and reached a hand out.<br />
<br />
Where it touched the shield, the violet tendrils and green shoots both slid aside to make room. Ollemar gasped, and Aiar blinked in surprise. “What’s it doing?” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“Responding to you. It seems you could do the weaving yourself, if you so chose.”<br />
<br />
“But I don’t—”<br />
<br />
“—know how, yes, we’ve heard that more than enough times. Still, it is something to remember. Now please, let me work.” Aiar gently pushed Erik away from the shield. He began to tug again, causing the violet tendrils to curve. This made the shield buckle slightly as before, but now Erik watched and waited. The shield began to repair itself, the lines of green light moving to fill in the gaps the violet left behind. With agonizing slowness, the shield started to curve in on itself.<br />
<br />
“It needs to be bigger,” Ollemar said, “or it’ll only fit one or two people. Erik, can you give more strength to it?”<br />
<br />
“I can’t—” He stopped. <i>No, no more ‘I can’t,’</i> he told himself. “I’ll try.” But how? He wasn’t <i>doing</i> anything to make the energy flow forth from him. Ollemar and Aiar were drawing it out with their manipulations.<br />
<br />
What about the <i>methar</i>? That little node of violet energy in his mind was the source of all this immense magic that floated in the air before him. Perhaps if he…<br />
<br />
There was a <i>snap</i> and Erik was thrown backward, onto his rear. The shield evaporated in an instant, exploding in a cascade of emerald and violet light. “Um,” Erik said, his ears ringing. He looked around; everyone else seemed to have been knocked askew as well.<br />
<br />
“I grow tired of asking this,” Aiar said, “but what did you do?”<br />
<br />
“I tried to… <i>open</i> the <i>methar</i>.” Erik scratched his chin, wondering. “I realized that it… it felt like it was closed.”<br />
<br />
“Then let us try again. Whatever you did, do it more slowly.”<br />
<br />
Erik waited until Ollemar had drawn the shield in the air again. The young Brandrinn was looking fatigued, but they couldn’t stop now. The shield they’d made yesterday, that had reinforced the trees, still shone strongly when Erik looked at it. Erik could feel the Shadow testing it, probing it, trying to find weakness. It hadn’t, yet… but it was making progress, he realized. It was only a matter of time.<br />
<br />
Erik looked at the shield, made of fae and Brandrinn magic. It hung there, waiting. Erik reached for the <i>methar</i> again. Last time he’d tugged sharply at it, tearing it open in some indefinable way. Ollemar and Aiar had been overwhelmed by it, and the whole weaving had collapsed. This time he’d go more slowly.<br />
<br />
He slid a mere fragment of thought into it, and began to pry it open, as gently as he could. He could sense the power lurking behind it, and it terrified him, but he couldn’t stop now. Aiar and Ollemar were both watching him, waiting, their hands held out to corral the shield.<br />
<br />
The <i>methar</i> began to glow more brightly in his mind. Erik stopped and waited. Things were much as before, but now there was more energy flowing forth. Ollemar yelped. “It’s fighting me!”<br />
<br />
Aiar began waving his hands frantically. “Too much… wait, no, I’ve got it. By the arcane! How can you wield so much strength?” he said to Erik.<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t answer. He kept his focus on the <i>methar</i>, worried that it would fly open and ruin the whole thing again. Aiar and Ollemar kept working. Ollemar grew the shield ever larger, and Aiar bent it into a curve, folding down the upper edges so that it was shaped like a large, round cake.<br />
<br />
At one point Erik’s grip on the <i>methar</i> slipped and a burst of violet energy roared forth, blasting apart one edge of the shield. Aiar grunted and yanked all the threads in that part together, forming a sort of net, to catch the fraying ends and stop the whole thing from flying apart.<br />
<br />
Soon, in mere minutes, the shield had grown tall enough and wide enough to encompass them all.<br />
<br />
“There are… loose ends…” Aiar huffed. He’d almost doubled over, his hands weaving slower and slower. Ollemar, too, looked about to collapse.<br />
<br />
“They need help!” Erik shouted at the other Brandrinn, who had been watching curiously but had made no move to assist.<br />
<br />
Emuar glared at Erik. “Do not tell us how to use our own magic,” he said.<br />
<br />
“Ollemar’s about to fall on his face! Shore him up or you’re wasting all our time!” Erik shouted. He thought he saw his Da crack a smile.<br />
<br />
Emuar <i>tsked</i> and stepped forward, wary. He raised his own staff and touched it to Ollemar’s. The younger Brandrinn fell to his knees and toppled onto his side, and the shield wobbled at the transition, but it held. Emuar blinked at it. “I… I don’t know what to do.”<br />
<br />
“Just hold it,” Aiar muttered through gritted teeth. “I’ve… almost… There!” he shouted, and fell to his knees, gasping in the warm morning air. “It should hold. No, it <i>will</i> hold.”<br />
<br />
Erik pushed the <i>methar</i> shut, realizing that he’d suffered his own fatigue from concentrating on it. Was magic always so immense and tedious to deal with? He’d seen Aiar work quick spells with no more than a flick of the wrist, but this shield had taken a great deal out of them all. Perhaps it was for the best that various kinds of magic weren’t ordinarily used together.<br />
<br />
Emuar dragged his staff around, slowly moving the enormous shield. All the Frays and the other Bjarheimers were standing or sitting off to one side, looking bored. None of them could see a lick of the magic, of course. “What’s going on now?” Sannfred Fray muttered.<br />
<br />
“Now, we’re going to get out of here,” Erik said. “We’ve made a shield, one that we can all fit into, and we can use it to leave here and get away from the Shadow. They won’t be able to break it, not easily.”<br />
<br />
“This all sounds like nonsense,” Thora said. It was the first she’d talked that day. “Whoever’s out there’s going to kill us. You all know it.”<br />
<br />
“You’re free to stay here if you want,” Finnar said. “We’ve got to get out of here and save Bjarheim.”<br />
<br />
“Getting all that way with the Shadow chasing us… Doesn’t seem real bright,” Kari said.<br />
<br />
“I’d stop them if I knew how,” Erik said. “But they’re really powerful.”<br />
<br />
“More than you? Than this?” She shook her head. “I can’t see whatever it is, but as much as you all were grunting and flailing about, it must be something amazing.” She stepped over to him and whispered. “You’re the only one who can stop the Shadow, Erik. I know it.”<br />
<br />
“You don’t ask much, do you?” he muttered to her. She smiled at him, making his cheeks flush. “Well we need to see whoever it is out there, before we can figure out how to stop them. So let’s get going.” He addressed everyone else. “Everyone, huddle in around Emuar. He’s carrying the shield now. Don’t get more than two armspans from him.”<br />
<br />
“To the hells with you all,” Thora said, plopping herself on the ground and looking away.<br />
<br />
Ilvha, the young mother, looked torn. “I… my boy… Will it be safe?”<br />
<br />
“No,” Finnar Rain said. “The Shadow is trying to kill us. If you stay here, it may follow us instead. Or maybe it will keep trying to break in.”<br />
<br />
“We can’t all keep running forever,” Sannfred said. “We’re worn out as it is.”<br />
<br />
Gaelle looked up at her husband. “I believe in Erik. You should too.” She nodded at Erik. “We’ll be coming with you.” Sannfred threw his hands up and started muttering angrily to himself, but nodded at Erik.<br />
<br />
Thurgald and Ludwin and Cesja agreed to come too. Thora stayed resolutely put on her rear and would not look at any of them. Emuar and the other Brandrinn had no qualms about leaving her behind. Erik, despite her incessant hostility, hoped Thora would be all right.<br />
<br />
The Bjarheimers crowded around Emuar, making the Brandrinn look uncomfortable, but he said nothing. The other Brandrinn, and Aiar, arranged themselves in a ring near the edge of the shield, since they could see its extent. Erik and Finnar walked in the front. Finnar couldn’t see the shield, but he stayed by Erik’s side, his huge hand on Erik’s shoulder. Erik had felt that touch before, and it usually meant incipient punishment. Today, in the forest, under attack by the Shadow, it reassured him.<br />
<br />
“Let’s go.” They wouldn’t be able to maintain their formation in the tunnel, so instead they went to the far edge of the Vângr. All the Brandrinn save for Emuar came together and raised their staves to touch one of the trees. With a great creak and cracking of wood, it began to twist out of the way, so slowly that it was a good ten minutes before Erik could see anything past it, and another ten until there was enough room for a single person to pass.<br />
<br />
This presented a logistical difficulty. Emuar placed himself just adjacent to the gap, so that everyone else could, one by one, pass through it, without leaving the edge of the shield. Erik insisted that everyone else go first, and then followed Emuar, squeezing through the gap. On the other side, everyone was crowded back against the trees, so Emuar pushed through to the first open area he could reach, and let everyone else rearrange themselves.<br />
<br />
Erik watched the forest around them. There was no sign of the Shadow here. It had been on the other side of the Vângr; he could still feel it. But it was moving now. It knew they were trying to escape. “It’ll be here soon unless we keep moving,” he said.<br />
<br />
Ollemar looked back. “It… it will catch us no matter what. Pray to the Mother that this shield holds.”<br />
<br />
“It will,” Erik insisted. “It has to.”<br />
<br />
Finnar glanced at his son; Erik only caught a moment of the look, but what he saw of it chilled him.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The Brandrinn took turns holding the shield. It seemed strong enough to maintain its form when none of them were prodding it along with their runestaffs, but no one wanted to take the chance that it would dissipate if left alone.<br />
<br />
The trees of the forest were, thankfully, spread far enough apart to make travel relatively easy. It was still slow going, since everyone had to shuffle along at exactly the same speed. There was no room for wandering.<br />
<br />
“Where exactly are we going?” Kari asked as the colossal tree-wall of the Vângr disappeared behind them.<br />
<br />
Finnar shared a look with Emuar. “Out of the forest.” He gave no more than that. Erik could tell by his clipped tone that Finnar wasn’t feeling particularly forthcoming.<br />
<br />
They trod along for a while. Erik began to feel the back of his neck itching. He kept glancing back through the woods, but saw nothing.<br />
<br />
After a while they stopped to rest and eat what they could—gathering food proved difficult as well, since the shield frightened away all game, and no one wanted to leave its safety behind. Ollemar and the other Brandrinn gathered what nuts and roots and berries they could find. It was better than nothing, but Erik’s stomach rumbled.<br />
<br />
He kept glancing back as they sat, and even when they started moving again. Then he felt a sharp stabbing in his neck, as if something had pierced his skin—but when he reached his hand up, there was no wound, no blood. He looked back. The forest seemed darker, or maybe the canopy here was thicker, or perhaps the sun was just starting to descend?<br />
<br />
But the darkness grew faster than he knew it should. He heard a cry and saw that several of the Brandrinn stared back the same way. “It’s coming,” Ollemar said.<br />
<br />
Emuar had the shield just now. Everyone turned to look. The darkness had made the furthest trees all but invisible, and it was spreading. A black mist slithered around roots and rocks, creeping up the trunks of the great pines, seeking and probing.<br />
<br />
“Let’s hope the shield—” Aiar cut off as the nearest tendril of the Shadow formed itself into a spear and thrust itself at them. Erik flinched as the tendril crashed into the shield, sending waves of sparkling green and violet light coruscating into the air. The tendril ricocheted away, and wavered, looking confused. Then instantly it vanished, and was replaced by another, and another, hammering at the shield.<br />
<br />
“The shield isn’t going to hold forever!” Emuar shouted between attacks. “We’ve got to run, or fight!”<br />
<br />
Erik peered out past the shield. Amidst the flailing tendrils of black smoke, he saw something man-shaped between the trees. It had wild black hair and wore tattered rags, but Erik could feel immense power radiating from it. Three other, lesser shapes lurked near it, like half-seen ghouls in a dream, their red eyes piercing the fog.<br />
<br />
The black shape lifted its head and smiled, and with horror Erik realized that it was Remy Thurain.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xii.html">Part XII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-80322150208496730682013-05-01T21:30:00.000-07:002013-05-08T00:05:25.312-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part XIf you missed it, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">IX</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART X</b></div>
<br />
Erik wept into his father’s shirt as Finnar’s strong arms held him close. Erik hadn’t realized it before, but he’d assumed Finnar was dead.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn were all muttering and nodding, their eyes locked on Finnar Rain. He stepped back from Erik, regarded his son with a tight smile, and faced the woodsmen. “Brothers. Is your stewardship ending at last?”<br />
<br />
“It is,” Ollemar said. “This boy is the prophesied one.”<br />
<br />
“I’ll take your word for it,” Finnar said. “Erik, you must have all sorts of questions.”<br />
<br />
Erik wiped away his tears and tried to look calm, as if half the group—<i>Kari</i>—wasn’t watching him. “Are you a Brandrinn?” Erik said, realizing that Finnar had spoken to the Brandrinn with great familiarity.<br />
<br />
“I was. Once. Brandrinn do not have families. I left when I met your mother. It was difficult. Some have not forgiven me for it.” He was looking at someone; Erik followed his gaze to the dark-skinned Brandrinn, who had shifted his glower from Erik to Finnar. “But I did what I had to do.”<br />
<br />
“How did you find us?” Kari said, stepping forward. Somehow she’d never been intimidated by Finnar. Erik took her hand, and she squeezed back without taking her eyes off his Da.<br />
<br />
“I was on the far side of Bjarheim. Made it through the wall. Not many escaped.” He shook his head sadly, and sighed. “Went west to the gathering place, and saw your tracks. When I saw you’d entered the forest… I knew you’d end up here.”<br />
<br />
“You did not tell your son the prophecy?” the dark-skinned Brandrinn said, skeptical.<br />
<br />
“Why would I? You know I never believed it.”<br />
<br />
“You should have,” the Brandrinn said.<br />
<br />
Finnar grunted. He put a hand on Erik’s shoulder and looked into his son’s eyes. “The Brandrinn are servants of the forest. The forest is the lifeblood of this land. It’s our job to protect it. But the prophecy says that the Mother’s need for us would come to an end, some day. It makes sense, I suppose. Nothing lasts forever.” <i>Like Bjarheim,</i> Erik thought.<br />
<br />
Finnar went on. “The prophecy speaks of a child of two magics, who would bring the Brandrinn together in the hour of greatest need. He would use us to defeat a great evil. We would be consumed in doing so. The prophecy never made sense to me. You can’t have two magics.”<br />
<br />
“Well, I do.” Erik held out his hand and made a purple glow, and then a green one. Harmless, tiny lights, but somehow they still made all the Brandrinn—even Finnar—draw back a little.<br />
<br />
“You do.” There was something tight in Finnar’s voice. Pride? Could Finnar actually be <i>proud</i> of Erik?<br />
<br />
And if so, for what? For stumbling around and not getting killed? <i>Some accomplishment.</i><br />
<br />
“What about this Odinson thing?”<br />
<br />
“That part I still think absurd,” Finnar said, glaring at the other Brandrinn. “You remember the story of Odin’s three sons, yes?”<br />
<br />
“Remember? Those were my favorite, when—when I was little.” It was the only time Erik had ever felt close to Finnar. His Da would come in at bedtime and tell Erik tales of Thor, Baldur, and Váli, the mighty sons of Odin.<br />
<br />
Finnar shook his head. “Not the individual stories. The story about all <i>three</i> brothers.”<br />
<br />
Erik gulped. He remembered.<br />
<br />
“What story?” Kari said. “Father never told me that one.”<br />
<br />
“They’re no stories for girls,” Sannfred Fray said abruptly.<br />
<br />
“Your girl’s tougher than most o’ the boys I’ve ever seen,” Finnar snapped at him. “Now hush.” He turned back to Erik. “Do you want to tell it?”<br />
<br />
Erik looked at Kari, and nodded. “I’ll try. Um… Odin had three sons. One day, they came into Valhalla to find Odin weeping. Thor asked, ‘Why do you weep, father?’<br />
<br />
“Odin said, ‘I weep for all the warriors who were not brave enough, and suffer after death in Niflheim. Will you go and save them?’<br />
<br />
“Baldur said, ‘We will, father.’ Thor and Baldur and Váli left Valhalla, and left Asgard, and traveled to Niflheim. They reached the great gate of Niflheim, with its door of coldest ice. They pounded on the door, Thor with his hammer, and Baldur with his staff, and Váli with his bow, and demanded entrance.<br />
<br />
“The great dragon Nithogg loomed over the gate. He said, ‘Why do you strike my door?’<br />
<br />
“Thor shouted, ‘Odin Allfather has sent us to retrieve the worthy souls of warriors gone astray.’<br />
<br />
“Nithogg said, ‘Odin Allfather has no dominion here. Begone.’<br />
<br />
“Thor scowled at Nithogg, and struck at the frozen door with all his might. But even his great hammer could not shatter it.<br />
<br />
“Baldur scoffed at Nithogg, and attempted to pick the lock on the gate. But even with his great wisdom and knowledge, he could not open it.<br />
<br />
“Váli glowered at Nithogg, and attempted to vault the gate. But even with his great agility, the gate was too high, and he could not hurdle it.<br />
<br />
“Nithogg laughed. He said, ‘You are weak,’ and retreated into his domain, to torture the souls of warriors trapped there.<br />
<br />
“The sons of Odin were dismayed. They could not enter Niflheim. They returned to Asgard, defeated, and presented themselves before their father. ‘We could not succeed,’ said Thor. ‘Not with all our strength, and our wisdom, and our cunning.’<br />
<br />
“Odin asked, ‘Who is the greatest among you?’<br />
<br />
“Thor said, ‘I am, for I am the mightiest. Leaders must have strength above all.’<br />
<br />
“Baldur said, ‘I am, for I am the wisest. Leaders must be wise above all.’<br />
<br />
“Váli said, ‘I am, for I am the most cunning. Leaders must be tricky above all.’<br />
<br />
“Odin said, ‘I sent you to Niflheim, knowing you would fail. Why?’ The three brothers did not know the answer. Odin said, ‘To teach you that you must act as one. When I set you on a task, you are not three, but one. You must strike with one arm, think with one mind, run as one body. The ruling of Asgard demands no less.’”<br />
<br />
Erik fell silent. What was it supposed to mean? Erik had always taken it as some kind of moral fable, to not value strength or wisdom or cunning above all else. He’d never felt that he had a surplus of any of the three, though.<br />
<br />
“The true son of Odin unites all those qualities,” Finnar said. “He is the one, so the prophecy says, who will unite the Brandrinn. He’s not really Odin’s son. It’s just a figure of speech.”<br />
<br />
“Have care for your words,” the dark-skinned Brandrinn said. “You may believe that, but the rest of us do not.”<br />
<br />
“Watch your own tongue, Emuar,” Finnar said. “Literal or not, I won’t let you burden my son. Now, we have to be practical. Bjarheim has fallen to the Shadow. What are you going to do about it?”<br />
<br />
“Our magic is that of life. It is anathema to the Shadow.” Emuar walked in a circle, arms outstretched, somehow encompassing the whole forest. He seemed to be a leader among the Brandrinn; Ollemar, who had always been so quick to criticize anything the Bjarheimers did, was completely silent. “But if we leave the forest to go to Bjarheim, how will our magic succeed? The forest is our Mother, the source of our power, and the master of our fates. At Bjarheim, we will be weak.”<br />
<br />
“You have to do something!” Erik blurted. “We can’t just let Bjarheim die!”<br />
<br />
“If you believe the prophecy,” Finnar said, “then you must come together. The forest will survive without you. <i>This</i> is the purpose the prophecy speaks of!”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn grumbled, but none objected, not even Emuar. “Let us ask the forest,” Emuar said finally. “We will all rest here tonight. Tomorrow, we will decide what to do.”<br />
<br />
“There is one other thing. The Shadow has sent its servants into the forest,” Ollemar said. “They are coming.”<br />
<br />
The other Brandrinn, startled, all looked up toward the tops of the trees that ringed the Vângr. “They are close,” Emuar said. “But… I cannot tell where. Why were we not alerted?”<br />
<br />
“Because they are cloaking themselves from you,” rang a voice from the tunnel. Aiar lurched up out of the hole, sweating and looking… <i>frightened</i>.<br />
<br />
“I told you not to enter!” Ollemar shouted, alarmed.<br />
<br />
“What is a <i>fae</i> doing here?” Emuar said, whipping his staff around and adopting a fighting stance.<br />
<br />
Erik ran between them. “Wait, no! He’s helping us!” He looked at Aiar. The fae was clutching his arm, and some sort of black smoke rose off it. “What happened?”<br />
<br />
“They attacked without warning. I… I barely had time to raise wards and flee. You said they cannot enter here, Brandrinn,” Aiar said to Ollemar. “How certain are you of that?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar gazed out at the ring of pines that encircled the Vângr. Erik saw the green energy still flowing between the trees, but as he watched, something seemed to strike against that barrier, sending crackling waves of light flowing into the Vângr. Erik perceived a distant ringing, as if a colossal gong had been struck.<br />
<br />
“That… should not be happening,” Finnar said. He took a step back, unconsciously shielding Erik.<br />
<br />
Erik darted around his father and looked again. There was something wrong with the trees. The green energy was still there, but it had changed, somehow. “Are they going to break through?”<br />
<br />
“It isn’t possible!” Emuar wailed. The distant gonging sound came again, and another wave of crackling green light sputtered from the trees. Erik looked up. The very uppermost branches were <i>withering</i>.<br />
<br />
“What do we do?” Erik shouted. Emuar had fallen to his knees and was clutching at his chest; several of the other Brandrinn had followed suit. Something was hurting them, just as it was hurting the wall of trees encircling the Vângr. Ollemar, alone among them, kept his feet. And Finnar, of course.<br />
<br />
“We must restore the shield,” Ollemar said. “Brothers! Come, you must!” He tried to lift Emuar to his feet, but the dark-skinned Brandrinn tore his arm away and fell back, shrieking.<br />
<br />
“Why can’t they help?” Erik shouted.<br />
<br />
Finnar came over, staring down at them. “They are too attuned to the trees. All of them have been in the forest a long, long time.” He shifted his gaze to Ollemar. “You. How long?”<br />
<br />
“Twelve years,” Ollemar said. “I am the youngest.”<br />
<br />
“And so the least tied to the forest’s heart.” He took Erik by the shoulder. “You two will have to bolster the wall.”<br />
<br />
“How?” Erik said. “I don’t have any idea how it works! All I can do is make little plants grow, or—”<br />
<br />
“Ollemar will guide you. He will use your strength.”<br />
<br />
“Can’t you do it?” Erik said, near tears. How could his Da expect him to handle something like this?<br />
<br />
Finnar shook his head. “My magic is long gone. When I left the forest, the magic left me. It was… Now is not the time. Come on!” He took Erik’s arm with one enormous fist, and Ollemar’s with the other. The young Brandrinn, so arrogant in the past, quailed and let himself be dragged along toward the wall of trees.<br />
<br />
Nobody else followed, except Kari, of course. “No, go back,” Erik said when he noticed her.<br />
<br />
“Like the hells I will,” she snapped. “Even if I can’t help, I ain’t leaving you alone to that.” She was pointing up at the wall of trees. Erik looked. The branches, high up, had turned to ash, fluttering away in the wind. Dark tendrils probed between the trunks. <i>Something</i> was going to come through before long.<br />
<br />
Twenty paces from the bole of a great pine, Finnar ground to a halt. “Here,” he said, prodding Ollemar forward. “You can weave the shield whole again, yes?”<br />
<br />
“Y—yes,” Ollemar said. “But not by myself! I’m not that strong.”<br />
<br />
“As I said, Erik will provide the strength.”<br />
<br />
Erik gulped. He had no idea what was going to happen. He sought the little green light that nestled inside his mind. The violet one was there too, pulsing in quiet counterpoint, unaware of the Shadow lurking yards away, waiting to devour them all.<br />
<br />
Erik ignored the violet light—the fae magic would do no good here, would it?—and focused on the green. As Ollemar stepped forward, Erik pushed the green ball out into the air before him. “Do… do what you have to,” he said.<br />
<br />
Ollemar took his staff and waved it in the air before Erik’s face. The pattern made no sense to him at first, but then he began to see it: an intricate weaving in the space where the tip of the staff passed, trailing faint green light behind it. The green ball floating before Erik began to glow brighter, and elongate, like a baker stretching dough out for long loaves. The brightness grew and grew, making Erik squint and then avert his eyes completely. It was like trying to look at the sun. “By the gods,” Ollemar said as he continued his weaving.<br />
<br />
Erik forced himself to look back. The pattern woven in the air before him was astonishingly bright, but Erik realized that it was not just green. Tendrils of violet light had woven themselves into it, creating a tapestry in the air that made the earlier weaving look like a child’s idle play. The edges of the shield unfolded, growing ever larger and more detailed, delineating runes of power that pulsed with purpose.<br />
<br />
Finally Ollemar dipped his staff right into the center of the shield, and with a mighty grunt heaved his staff upward. The whole shield shattered into a million numinous fragments, embedding themselves in the great trees. The fading green light of the Brandrinn’s old shield was replaced by a radiant brocade of emerald and amethyst. The Shadow, just beginning to seep its way through into the Vângr, vanished with a shriek. The tops of the trees were still ash, but the corruption had stopped.<br />
<br />
Erik realized he’d fallen onto his knees. But he wasn’t tired, not in the least. “Are we safe?”<br />
<br />
“For now,” Finnar said, looking up in awe. “Maybe forever. Can you believe it, brother?” he said to Ollemar, who was leaning on his staff, panting. “Fae and Brandrinn magic, working together. It’s a more glorious work than I’ve ever seen.”<br />
<br />
“It… it shouldn’t be possible…” Ollemar pushed himself upright and strode over to the trees. The Shadow’s probing tendrils had made it seem as if there were colossal gaps between each trunk, but now you couldn’t blow a breath of air between them. “The others!” he said suddenly, and ran back toward the center of the Vângr. Erik loped after him, Kari and Finnar on his heels.<br />
<br />
Emuar and the other Brandrinn were all on their feet again, gazing about in wonder. The Frays and the other Bjarheimers, of course, hadn’t been able to see any of the magic. They looked terrified; from their perspective, the trees had started disintegrating, and then stopped. “We’re safe,” he said to Sannfred and Gaelle. “For now, anyway.”<br />
<br />
“What did you do, boy?” Sannfred demanded. “Are we going to get eaten by the Shadow or not?”<br />
<br />
“Not today,” Finnar said. “My boy, and Ollemar here, did an amazing thing.”<br />
<br />
Emuar had shown open contempt before. Now there was only amazement on his face. “I… I cannot… this…”<br />
<br />
Finnar went to him and put a calming hand on his shoulder. “And yet it has. We cannot deny that which is before our eyes.”<br />
<br />
Erik went over to Aiar. The fae still clutched at his arm. The black smoke that had been roiling off it had stopped, but Erik spied angry red blisters beneath his fingers. “Are you all right?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“I will be,” the fae said, for once too distracted to imbue his words with their usual sarcastic patina. “I saw you using fae magic over there.”<br />
<br />
“Ollemar was the one doing it,” Erik protested. “His magic and mine… joined together, somehow.”<br />
<br />
“Well. That’s something to consider. But we still have the problem that agents of the Shadow are lurking beyond the walls of the Vângr. We can’t stay here forever, and they may well try to break in again.”<br />
<br />
“Not a chance,” Ollemar said. A great deal of his confidence seemed to have returned. Erik wondered if that was so wise. “The shield we wove is a thousand times greater than anything I have ever wrought.”<br />
<br />
“That may be, but we are trapped here. And unless someone knows how to magically produce unlimited food and clean water from nothing, we are going to end up with some… logistical problems.”<br />
<br />
“You’re all idiots,” Kari said. “We’ve bought ourselves some time, right? So let’s rest and eat what we can.” She looked up at the sky, which was beginning to purple. Erik realized that they’d been weaving that shield for many minutes; hours, perhaps. “We’ll sleep, and tomorrow we’ll figure out how to deal with… them out there.”<br />
<br />
Erik threw his arms around her and squeezed. She yelped surprise, but did not break away. Erik was so glad that <i>someone</i> here was concerned with practicalities, rather than bloviating about magic. They all seemed so convinced that <i>he’d</i> made the shield, when all he’d done was stand there letting Ollemar do all the work!<br />
<br />
But now everyone, save Kari, was eyeing him with some mixture of awe and fear. <i>Erik the sorcerer; Erik the mighty,</i> came a voice in his head. <i>I’m no such thing!</i> he argued at himself. The voice cackled.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-xi.html">Part XI</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-6686834984256045292013-05-01T21:03:00.001-07:002013-05-01T21:03:04.518-07:00A day's delayAlas! The next part of BJARHEIM'S SHADOW will be up shortly; circumstances forced a slight delay.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-1468373246696625082013-04-23T23:09:00.001-07:002013-05-01T21:35:23.416-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part IXIf you missed it, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">VIII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART IX</b></div>
<br />
Aiar lurched to his feet. “Already? No, you must be mistaken.” But he paused, giving Erik hope. “What do you see?”<br />
<br />
“This sort of… sparkling light. Violet, like the magic you do. But then there’s this green thing, too. They both get bright and dim, opposite each other.”<br />
<br />
“By the lights… You really do have two magics.”<br />
<br />
“You didn’t think so?”<br />
<br />
“I was unsure. This is all very unsettled territory, Erik. You must realize how unusual it is. For a human to have the <i>methar</i> alone is something worthy of note, but to also have whatever it is that the Brandrinn do… It is astonishing.”<br />
<br />
Erik grinned. This was the <i>nicest</i> that Aiar had ever been. “Careful, or I might get the idea you don’t hate me any more.”<br />
<br />
Aiar glowered at him. “Have no fear of that, young idiot. I must examine you.” He came over and, without asking, put his hand on Erik’s head again, as he had done that night back at Erik’s home—<i>Don’t think of Bjarheim, don’t.</i> The fae hummed, squinting at Erik, and then his eyes popped open. “Yes, it is there. Before, I said it would take you a year. Two days is most certainly a new record.” He paused for a long while; Erik was beginning to feel sleepy again, as it was still full dark. One or two other folk had stirred when he’d shouted, but once they noticed him talking quietly with Aiar, they’d fallen back asleep.<br />
<br />
Kari didn’t, though. While Aiar stared, she came up next to Erik, rubbing her eyes. Her free hand slipped into his. “What’s going on?”<br />
<br />
“Your <i>ipfillistin</i> can sense the <i>methar</i>,” Aiar said abruptly. “I am trying to decide how best to guide his learning without him killing himself or the rest of us, or burning down the forest.”<br />
<br />
“Is there much chance of that?” Erik asked, nervous. This was really happening; and while Aiar might be given to exaggeration, if he said there was a chance Erik might kill them all, he meant it.<br />
<br />
“If we are careful, the risk is low. But a proper fae would learn magic from a master in isolation, spending his first decade having only rare contact with anyone besides his master.”<br />
<br />
“What d’you mean, ‘isolation’?” Kari said. “You’re all cooped up in those caves, aren’t you?”<br />
<br />
“There are much deeper chambers. It is those we use. Deep enough to—” He cut himself off, narrowing his eyes. “You had best not learn of that.” Erik began to speak, to ask anyway, but Aiar chopped the air with his hand. “No! You are not there, so there is no need to know. Do not ask again.”<br />
<br />
Erik grumbled but went along. How was he supposed to learn anything if Aiar wouldn’t teach him? It wasn’t as if he was going to run off to find whatever deep caves he was talking about. “Fine. So now that I can sense it, what do I do with it?”<br />
<br />
“Noth—well. I <i>was</i> going to say, do nothing, but, hm. It might take a fae student a year or two to even begin to sense the <i>methar</i>, and then he would spend the next several years examining it, becoming familiar.”<br />
<br />
“But I sensed it in two days,” Erik said. “If that was fast, why not the next step?”<br />
<br />
“So eager to blow yourself up, hm?” Aiar arched an eyebrow. “Very well. I suppose I must get a head start, if the Brandrinn are to try to teach you as well.” He glanced around, wary. “Perhaps you could not mention the green light you saw.”<br />
<br />
“Too late,” whispered a voice above their heads, and Erik jumped back. Ollemar was hanging upside-down from a branch not five feet above them.<br />
<br />
Aiar glared at Erik. “I thought you could sense him.”<br />
<br />
“I can… when I’m not distracted.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar flipped down, making almost no noise as he landed. “If you can see the Seed within you, you are ready to learn. Fae may be able to waste decades hiding underground, but we Brandrinn have pressing concerns. One learns to fly by being thrust from the nest, not by hopping around safely on the ground.”<br />
<br />
“Hopeless,” Aiar grunted. “I will teach the boy first, since he agreed to be taught by me first. Let us see what your Vângr brings, and then you may teach him.”<br />
<br />
“There is no time to waste. I will teach him today as we walk.”<br />
<br />
“You said we would reach the Vângr today! Surely even you cannot be that impatient.”<br />
<br />
“Hey!” Erik interrupted. “Excuse me, but I’ll be deciding who I learn from first.”<br />
<br />
Aiar sighed. “Of course you will. Well?”<br />
<br />
Erik looked back and forth between his two prospective teachers. Aiar <i>had</i> offered first, but the Brandrinn had this prophecy… “Couldn’t I take turns? One day with Aiar, and one day with Ollemar?”<br />
<br />
“That would be far too slow,” Aiar scoffed. “You must focus on one or the other if you are to learn anything.”<br />
<br />
“For once I agree with the fae,” Ollemar said. “Perhaps someday you might learn… <i>his</i> magic, and master both, but there is no time to be poor at two things, rather than skilled at one.”<br />
<br />
“Fine. Then I’ll flip a coin for it. Heads, Aiar. Tails, Ollemar.”<br />
<br />
“Fair enough.” Ollemar nodded. “Proceed.”<br />
<br />
Aiar sighed again, even more dramatically than before. “This is suitably idiotic, I suppose.” He waved a hand. “Get on with it.”<br />
<br />
Erik dug into his pockets and found a penny. He hadn’t had any money with him when he’d fled his house, so he’d thought, but this one penny had been tucked away in a fold in his trousers.<br />
<br />
He balanced it on his thumb and flipped it toward the branches. It was still quite dark, only the remnants of their campfire giving any illumination. The coin arced and fell, and Erik had to crunch through the dead pine needles to get close enough to see how it had landed.<br />
<br />
It was lodged, edge-first, in the crook of a twig.<br />
<br />
Aiar burst out laughing, while Ollemar stared uneasily. “Do not think to manipulate things with your foul magic,” the Brandrinn warned Aiar.<br />
<br />
“I did no such thing, imbecile. Do you not see the humor? Ah, nevermind. Flip again, Erik.”<br />
<br />
He took the coin and gave it another toss. It struck the dirt and came to rest leaning upright against a pebble.<br />
<br />
“Oh now come on!” Erik said. “Which one of you is doing that?”<br />
<br />
“I promise you I am making no attempt to influence things,” Aiar said, holding up his hands. “And you would see if I did. Once you can see the <i>methar</i>, you can see all magic woven with it.”<br />
<br />
Erik looked at Ollemar. The Brandrinn gritted his teeth. “Cheating at games is a very great sin among the Brandrinn,” he said darkly. “And, too, you would have seen if I had used any magic on the coin.”<br />
<br />
“One more time?” Kari said. She reached down and picked up the coin again.<br />
<br />
“You should flip it,” Erik said.<br />
<br />
She laughed and pressed it into his palm. “I’ll not be responsible for your choices, Erik Rain.” She kissed him on the cheek. Somehow, this time, it made him feel horribly embarrassed.<br />
<br />
He sighed and flipped the coin once more. This time it landed with a splash, and when he knelt he saw that there was a tiny, muddy puddle in a depression between two fist-sized rocks. He couldn’t see which way the coin had settled on the bottom.<br />
<br />
“Here,” Aiar said, reaching out his fingers and twisting a little. A ball of bright violet light erupted from them, and floated gently down toward the puddle. Erik knelt down, and put his face right beside it.<br />
<br />
The coin was stuck, edge-up, in the mud at the bottom of the puddle.<br />
<br />
Kari whistled. “It just won’t decide.”<br />
<br />
“Or maybe he doesn’t,” Aiar said, looking curiously at Erik. “But if he was using magic to influence it—if he was even capable of that at this point—the Brandrinn or I would see it. I saw no such thing.” He glanced at Ollemar. “You?”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn shook his head. “This is unnatural.”<br />
<br />
Erik fished the coin out of the puddle and wiped it on his trouser leg. “Well either this coin is cursed, or we all are. I guess I have to decide myself.” He truly couldn’t, though. Why was this so hard? <i>Just pick one!</i><br />
<br />
“We have wasted much time,” Ollemar grunted. “Sleep more, and decide in the morning.” He trod away silently, and climbed up a tree into the darkness.<br />
<br />
Kari patted Erik on the arm and went back toward their hollow. Aiar turned to go as well, but Erik grabbed his sleeve. “Wait. Before, you called me… ipf… iffil… What was it?”<br />
<br />
“<i>Ipfillistin</i>,” Aiar said. “It translates directly as ‘blood of the heart.’”<br />
<br />
“So… I’m Kari’s… heartsblood?” Erik scratched at his chin. “What does that mean?”<br />
<br />
“Colloquially, it means ‘that which one cannot live without.’” His eyes twinkled violet in the darkness, and then he was gone.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik nestled into the hollow again and put his arm around Kari. She twitched a little at his touch, then settled. <i>That which I can’t live without. I thought we were just kids.</i> All the playing at romance, the stolen kisses, that was just stuff kids did. It didn’t mean anything. They were best friends; that wasn’t the same as being… <i>together.</i><br />
<br />
But she’d already shown him how important he was to her, with her demands that he never leave her, the way her brother had. <i>By Odin, why didn’t she ever tell me about that?</i> Well, the way her father had reacted, clearly it was some horrible family secret. Erik couldn’t possibly ask Sannfred about it, and Kari, well, he didn’t want to distress her again. The twins were definitely too young to remember. That left Gaelle. Kari’s mother was a chatterbox in good times, but this wasn’t that. He’d seen a backbone of iron in that woman since they’d left Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
<i>Later,</i> he thought. <i>I can ask later.</i> For now, he snuggled in close to Kari, and felt the rhythm of her breathing, and let slumber creep upon him once more.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik half expected the Vângr to take place at some random clearing in the woods, and so he was wholly unprepared to find a colossal, solid wall of trees blocking their path. They were huge pines, grown so close together that barely a sliver of light could squeeze between them.<br />
<br />
“Now that ain’t natural,” Sannfred Fray said, coming up behind Erik.<br />
<br />
“Nothing could be more natural,” Ollemar said, appearing out of nowhere and making Sannfred jump. “If one can speak with the trees, one can make them see the wisdom of growing in unusual ways.”<br />
<br />
Erik’s eyes were only for the trees themselves. There was a faint green glow from them, a web of pulsing light passing from trunk to trunk, branch to branch, cone to cone. “What is that?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar came up beside him. “A ward. Shadow cannot enter this place. Come. You may all enter, except the fae.”<br />
<br />
“I will be quite content out here, I assure you,” Aiar said. He had been miffed all day, since Erik still hadn’t decided who should teach him first. Both Aiar and Ollemar had complained about wasted time, but they couldn’t understand how hard this was! No one had ever turned <i>their</i> lives upside down with secrets and prophecies and revelations.<br />
<br />
Ollemar smirked and strode toward the wall of trees. It curved away out of sight in both directions; if those trees were laid out in a circle, they would enclose a sizable area.<br />
<br />
Erik looked back at their group. Ollemar, despite his general hostility, had gladly shared his food with the rest of the Bjarheim folk, and showed them the best places to gather water. He did not seem to mind the idea of their entering the Vângr. None of them seemed to want to wait outside, so Erik took a deep breath and followed Ollemar.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn ducked between two enormous roots that looked far too tightly woven to pass through; but there was just enough space, for the roots had been grown in such a cunning way that even Sannfred, the largest of their party, was able to squeeze through with nary a scratch. There was a path under here, unlit but for the scattered sunlight from above.<br />
<br />
And then it was dark. Erik put his hands out and followed along. He realized after several steps that there was a faint green light illuminating the walls. He could even see where Ollemar’s footsteps had landed, although the ranger had disappeared ahead.<br />
<br />
“Erik, wait,” Kari called out. “We can’t see anything.”<br />
<br />
“Huh? But there’s—oh.” The green light was the same glow he’d seen outside, Brandrinn magic. Of course the others couldn’t see it. “I’ll guide you. We’ll make a chain.” He went back and took Kari’s hand. “Stay there a second.” He went back, bringing each person forward to grasp the next one’s hand, until there was a chain ten people long. Ilvha, having one hand occupied by her babe, came last.<br />
<br />
Erik returned to the front of the chain, took Kari’s hand again, and went forward. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see quite well, though everything was tinged green. The tunnel curved, and a few times someone or other bumped their heads against the low dirt ceiling or bits of root that protruded from it. Before long there was a spot of light ahead. Kari yelped with delight when she saw it, and Erik could hear the whole chain of Bjarheimers growing eager to escape the darkness.<br />
<br />
Finally there was enough light for the others to see, and one by one they scrambled up and out of the hole, into daylight again. Erik looked back. The wall of trees was a hundred yards back; the tunnel had brought them to what seemed to be near the middle of the Vângr.<br />
<br />
Ollemar awaited them, and, Erik realized, so did several other Brandrinn. They all wore the same greens and browns, and Erik had assumed they’d all be as nondescript as Ollemar. But aside from their clothing, the eight—no, <i>ten</i> other Brandrinn were as different as could be: tall and pale, short and dark, old and bald, young and apple-cheeked. Erik turned about, examining them one by one. The Frays huddled together, glancing nervously about, except Kari, who stayed holding Erik’s hand. It was a bright spot of warmth amidst all the cold glares of the Brandrinn.<br />
<br />
Even Ollemar looked nervous. He cleared his throat. “Brothers,” he said, for the Brandrinn did all appear to be male. “The prophecy of Endras has come to pass. This boy is born of two magics. He has the Seed. And… another magic, whose name I will not use among these boughs.”<br />
<br />
The other Brandrinn muttered, staring at Erik with cautious eyes. Erik tried to speak low to Ollemar, but his voice carried anyway. “What do you mean, ‘born of two magics?’ My mother was part—um, the thing you don’t want to say. But my Da…” He trailed off, sudden horror dawning on him.<br />
<br />
Before he could say more, the largest of the Brandrinn spoke up, a man with fiery red hair and a beard that touched the middle of his chest. “You say he can use our magic, and—the other. Show us, boy.”<br />
<br />
Erik gulped. He focused on the green light in his mind’s eye first. <i>Better to start with the magic they’ll like.</i> He couldn’t do much, but he had figured this out, in an idle moment when they’d stopped to eat lunch. He knelt down to the ground, finding a spot of bare dirt among the grass. Erik let the green light in his mind seep into the soil. He could feel it flowing between the tiny clods of dirt. And—there! He found what he was looking for.<br />
<br />
The seed sprouted instantly, drawing its life from the emerald light. A pale green shoot sprung up from the dirt, uncoiling into a small, fuzzy stalk about the size of Erik’s finger.<br />
<br />
The red-haired Brandrinn nodded. He too looked nervous. “Very well. What of… the other?”<br />
<br />
“He should not use that magic here,” another Brandrinn said, the short, dark-skinned one. He was twirling his staff around slowly, as if preparing to fight. Erik gulped.<br />
<br />
“It is necessary,” Ollemar said. “He must show that he is the one Endras foretold.”<br />
<br />
All the other Brandrinn grumbled, and the dark-skinned one pursed his lips, glowering at Erik. Erik gulped again and sought the <i>methar</i>, the violet light in his mind. He hadn’t actually learned how to <i>do</i> anything with it yet. <i>Aiar would be furious if he saw this. Good thing he stayed outside.</i><br />
<br />
And yet, when Erik tried, it came naturally. The <i>methar</i> flowed forth just as the Seed had, looping and spinning in the air, as if it had a mind of its own, eager to make something of itself. Erik held out his hand, and settled the <i>methar</i> into it. He wondered if he could make it glow, to emit light that the Brandrinn could see—<br />
<br />
Everyone yelped when the <i>methar</i> suddenly flashed brightly, casting long shadows all around and dazzling Erik. He futilely tried to block the glare with his hand, and the <i>methar</i> dissipated, nestling itself back inside his head again.<br />
<br />
Once everyone’s vision cleared, the Brandrinn stared at Erik with something between awe and dismay. “It is as I said,” Ollemar intoned. “He is foretold. He will bind us, and destroy us.” Ollemar knelt down before Erik. “Odinson,” the Brandrinn said.<br />
<br />
“Odinson,” the others all said, kneeling where they stood.<br />
<br />
“Uh,” Erik said, completely lost. “Can someone explain what that means?”<br />
<br />
“I can,” said a deep voice, and Erik turned around to look directly into the eyes of his father.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/05/bjarheims-shadow-part-x.html">Part X</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-48022588314552220412013-04-17T01:11:00.000-07:002014-02-03T11:53:51.665-08:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part VIIIIf you missed it, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">VII</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART VIII</b></div>
<br />
Aiar rolled his eyes. “Oh, a prophecy! How quaint. And what precisely is it supposed to mean?”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn jerked his head up. “Do not presume to question our prophecies, scum.”<br />
<br />
“I question all forms of nonsense. Prophecies especially. This—”<br />
<br />
“What prophecy?” Erik interrupted. Aiar might not think much of the Brandrinn, but Erik had finally met one, and he wasn’t about to allow Aiar to run roughshod over him.<br />
<br />
“Yes, do tell,” the fae said anyway.<br />
<br />
The woodsman picked up his staff and slowly rose to his feet. “I will tell the boy in detail. Not you.” He gestured away from the group, meaning for Erik to follow.<br />
<br />
“Now hang on there,” Sannfred Fray said, coming up. “I ain’t about to let you take Erik off into the woods all on his own.”<br />
<br />
In a flash, the Brandrinn’s staff came to rest against Sannfred’s throat. He froze, eyes wide.<br />
<br />
“You could not stop me,” the Brandrinn said. “Trespassers, the lot of you. I ought to crush your windpipe and make a lesson of you.”<br />
<br />
“No!” Erik said, leaping up and batting the staff away.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn made no move to replace it. “I will not harm the boy. I swear upon my bark and branches. Come.” He strode off, his footfalls making no sound.<br />
<br />
Erik started to follow, but a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned and met Sannfred’s eyes. “I’ll be all right, I swear.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t go far. Your… your Da won’t forgive me if I lose you.”<br />
<br />
Erik nodded, pushing back sudden tears at the mention of his father… but there was a Brandrinn here, and he knew something. Erik followed the woodsman away through the trees.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn had already gone a hundred yards. Somehow Erik could pick him out easily among the trunks, even though his woodsy clothes and his very skin seemed to blend in among them. “How can I see you so well?” he called out as he drew close.<br />
<br />
“The prophecy,” the woodsman said, meeting Erik’s eyes and thoroughly ignoring his question, “has been passed down for generations. What do you know of the Brandrinn?”<br />
<br />
“Just, you know… rumors, the kind kids spread. You protect the forest, I guess?”<br />
<br />
“More than that, but yes. And we work alone. The prophecy says that you will bring us together to save us, and then destroy us.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t want to destroy you! And how d’you know I’m the… the one it means?”<br />
<br />
“A child of two magics,” the woodsman said, crouching down against a tree. He dug in the soil with the tip of his staff, drawing a ragged star shape on the one hand, and a leaf on the other. “No one learns two magics. But <i>you</i> are learning fae magic, and you could see right through my cloak.”<br />
<br />
“You haven’t got a cloak,” Erik pointed out.<br />
<br />
“A cloak of shade, of leaves and pollen and dust. It is our magic. It conceals us from all but one another. But you can already pierce it, because you have the Seed within you.”<br />
<br />
“The seed of what?”<br />
<br />
“The Seed of true-seeing. Brandrinn cannot hide from one another, because we—you—are as one.”<br />
<br />
“I suppose next you’ll tell me I’m Odinson walking the earth.”<br />
<br />
The woodsman was stone-faced. “That is the second part of the prophecy.”<br />
<br />
Erik laughed. When the Brandrinn did not join in, the laughter died in Erik’s throat. “Are you serious?”<br />
<br />
“You have our magic, but not our history. Come. I already feel a pull toward the Vângr.” He gazed off into the woods.<br />
<br />
“‘Vângr’? You damn well better explain that! I’m damn tired of gettin’ pompous mumbo-jumbo thrown at me left and right. I get enough of that from Aiar! And I ain’t leaving my friends here. And what in the hells is your name, anyway?”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn was quiet for a stretch, as if struggling to decide whether he owed Erik his name. “Ollemar of Three Dawns.” He bowed at the waist. “And you are Erik.”<br />
<br />
“How did you—oh, right, Sannfred said my name. Erik Rain.” He held out a hand to shake.<br />
<br />
Ollemar stared at the hand for a moment, then gently pushed it away with the tip of his staff. “Your friends are of no use. The Shadow has come, and we must make for the Vângr—it is a gathering of the Brandrinn, in times of dire need. We must leave at once. The others know what I know. They will be waiting.”<br />
<br />
“I’m not going bloody anywhere without the others. Especially Aiar. And Kari,” he added, embarrassed that <i>she</i> had been an afterthought to the fae.<br />
<br />
Ollemar’s face scrunched up. It was a hard face to describe; plain, almost bland in its featurelessness. Sure, there was a nose, two eyes, all the usual parts, but he was so unremarkable that he might as well have been a crude drawing in a children’s book. His hair was a nondescript brown, the exact same shade as the bark beside him. Even as ordinary as he was, he still looked quite unsettled when he frowned like this. “A fae at the Vângr would be a grave insult to the forest. They are seekers of the arcane, not of nature’s order. I will not have it.”<br />
<br />
Erik crossed his arms. “Then I’m not going. And to the hells with your prophecy.” He made himself turn around and walk away.<br />
<br />
He couldn’t believe it; he’d come all the way out here to find a Brandrinn, and here he was, telling the first one he met to go stuff himself. But how could he leave Kari and the Frays, and Ludwin and Cesja and… and even Thora behind? They were all he had left of Bjarheim. He couldn’t sever that connection.<br />
<br />
He didn’t hear footfalls behind him, but somehow he sensed that Ollemar was there. Erik glanced back. The Brandrinn was following him, no more than five feet away. He looked pained. “Perhaps the prophecy is flexible on whether you may bring… companions… to the Vângr. But that stinking fae may <i>not</i> enter. He can wait beyond the trees.”<br />
<br />
“Why do you hate the fae so much?”<br />
<br />
“They do not glorify nature, that which sustains us. Instead they squander their magic looking inward, hiding in their caves. It is despicable.”<br />
<br />
“Well, try to be nice. Aiar’s been protecting us. And teachin’ me magic. So lay off.”<br />
<br />
“As you wish,” Ollemar grumbled.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
They returned to the rest of the group, who were relieved that Erik had come back unharmed. “This is Ollemar. He’ll guide us to… a place in the forest, where… something will happen.” He shrugged. “We’ll be safe.”<br />
<br />
“What if whoever attacked us comes back?” Kari said. She kept a clear, wary eye on the Brandrinn.<br />
<br />
“What sort of attack?” Ollemar said, suddenly interested. Erik and the others described the decaying grass in the meadow, and how it had trapped and killed poor Florr.<br />
<br />
Ollemar grew visibly agitated as the story wore on, and when it was finished, he bellowed with rage and whipped his staff down onto the dirt. “Dark magic, used to murder green life! If I meet whoever has done that, I will tear them to pieces! Their blood will feed new growth!”<br />
<br />
Aiar cleared this throat. “If you are done with your homicidal tantrum, may we proceed? The Vângr will not wait.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar glared at the fae. “How do you know of the Vângr?”<br />
<br />
“We fae scum know much, not that you had bothered to ask.”<br />
<br />
Ollemar looked at Erik instead. “Certain folk should not sully the Vângr by letting their tongues touch its name. Come.” He stalked away.<br />
<br />
Erik quickly tried to explain that they had to follow Ollemar. “It’ll be safe, I swear. If the Brandrinn come together, they can stop the Shadow, and save Bjarheim,” he pleaded, hoping to soothe the visible doubts on his companions’ faces.<br />
<br />
Aiar nodded. “He is right. A Vângr does not happen often. We can only hope the other Brandrinn are not quite so irretrievably rude.”<br />
<br />
“Boy, this is madness you’re gettin’ wrapped up in,” Sannfred Fray said.<br />
<br />
Gaelle Fray swatted him on the shoulder. “Hush. He’s got to make this decision for himself. You were the one what always said what luck it was for a man to be able to use magic! How can you try to stop him at a time like this?”<br />
<br />
“He has already begun learning from me,” Aiar said, looming over the Frays. “Even if that leaf-blooded Brandrinn is capable of teaching him magic, it will be mere forest tricks, not proper arcana.” He set his gaze on Erik. “Be wary. The Brandrinn have no care but for themselves and their trees. If they help Bjarheim, it will be to serve their own ends.”<br />
<br />
Erik glanced around the group. They all stared at him, some with awe, some with worry. Ludwin and his wife Cesja watched him with wide eyes. Thora seemed to appraise him, as if he might have some value after all. The young mother, Ilvha, had already stood up, clutching her baby to her chest as if ready to follow Erik wherever he might go. Thurgald, the man who Ollemar had shot, was sitting up, woozily rubbing his neck and looking disgruntled.<br />
<br />
The Fray twins looked bored as they always did, Jarno tying Kjesten’s hair into knots while she pelted him with clods of dirt, utterly ignoring the drama around them. Sannfred wrung his hands; perhaps he really did feel responsible for Erik. Gaelle watched him evenly.<br />
<br />
And Kari. She stood at arm’s length, hands on her hips, looking impatient. Erik sensed something and glanced over his shoulder; Ollemar stood just at the edge of sight, probably annoyed at being made to wait, but Erik could not rush this. He turned back to Kari, and walked over to her. She flinched a little. Erik swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat, and took her hands. “What do you think I should do?”<br />
<br />
“I—” Kari glanced around at the others, but Erik took her chin and made her look at him.<br />
<br />
“No. Tell me.”<br />
<br />
She closed her eyes, spilling tears down her cheeks. Erik still didn’t understand how Kari—tough, rough, tree-climbing, no-nonsense Kari—had become so distraught. <i>You weren’t supposed to leave,</i> she’d said.<br />
<br />
“Tell me,” he whispered, drawing closer. The others were all staring, but to the hells with them.<br />
<br />
“I—I had a… Mikal was—”<br />
<br />
“Kari, no!” Sannfred shouted suddenly. “We do not speak of that!”<br />
<br />
“Let her talk, you fool,” Aiar said. “Can you not see how important this is to her, whatever it is?” Sannfred glared daggers at the fae, then huffed and crossed his arms. Aiar gestured impatiently at Kari. “Continue, girl.”<br />
<br />
“When I was… very little, I had an older brother. Mikal. He was… my best friend. And… there was an accident. He fell…” The tears came again, but Kari’s expression was one of anger, not sorrow. “He told me he’d never leave, but he did.” She clutched Erik’s hand tightly in hers. “You have to promise you’ll never leave.”<br />
<br />
“I swear,” Erik said. “But I can’t see the future.”<br />
<br />
Kari was squeezing his hands so hard it hurt. Suddenly she released him, and nodded once. “Then let’s go.” She strode away toward Ollemar.<br />
<br />
The others began to follow. Sannfred, before he went, came over to Erik. “You had best not hurt my girl.” Then he followed the rest of them.<br />
<br />
Erik found himself bringing up the rear, and realized that Aiar walked slowly beside him. “You humans are insane,” the fae said.<br />
<br />
Erik nodded. “I agree completely.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
“The first thing is to take a leaf and hold it against your forehead,” Ollemar said, plucking a veined, dark-green specimen from a nearby shrub to demonstrate. “Keep it there until you can feel it. Not feel it with your skin, but with your soul.” He handed the leaf to Erik.<br />
<br />
Aiar sighed dramatically from several yards away as Erik did as Ollemar instructed. “Like this?”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn nodded. “The leaf is a surrogate for the life of the forest. It is a small part, as you or I are a small part. But the forest is made of nothing but small parts, all joined together in a great linked circle. Understanding begins by learning to see oneself as part of that circle.”<br />
<br />
“Magic exists independent of lifeforms,” Aiar declared, apparently having become fed up with Ollemar’s teaching methods. He stalked over to Erik. “We are in its flow, and we sense it. Yes, life is all well and good. Being alive myself, I can hardly criticize it. But magic is not linked to life any more than a bird is linked to the wind.”<br />
<br />
“The wind guides the bird just as life guides magic,” Ollemar countered, coming to his feet and staring up at the fae. Ollemar was not tall, but you couldn’t tell it by the fierceness of his gaze.<br />
<br />
Erik stepped between them. “I said I’d learn from both of you, and I will. One at a time. Please?”<br />
<br />
The fae threw his hands up and strode off into the trees, muttering. “Never find the <i>methar</i> at this rate…”<br />
<br />
Ollemar stared smugly after him. Erik shoved a finger into the Brandrinn’s face. “And you, cut that out. I just want to save Bjarheim. All this magic mumbo-jumbo means nothing to me, d’you hear?”<br />
<br />
“It means a great deal to the world, whether or not you like it. Now come. Sense the life around you.”<br />
<br />
Much as Erik hadn’t been able to sense the <i>methar</i>, he could not feel the ebb and flow of life as Ollemar insisted he would. He still sensed power radiating from Ollemar’s staff; and when the Frays made a campfire again, he could see the little orange spark of energy, floating there, waiting to be tapped by the whirling sticks. But it was all vague and incomprehensible. After an hour of trying, he finally gave up and insisted on being let alone.<br />
<br />
Ollemar seemed just as put out as Aiar had been, and disappeared into the woods for a while. He returned with a deer slung over his shoulders. Gingerly he set it upon the ground and knelt before it, putting his hands on it and performing some sort of silent prayer ritual. Finally he drew a knife from the folds of his tunic and began rapidly dissecting the carcass. In minutes, a haunch had been spitted over the fire, and Ollemar himself stood there, turning it.<br />
<br />
“Doesn’t it bother you to kill a deer?” Erik asked. “You got so upset about all that other stuff.”<br />
<br />
“Killing an animal for food is not the same as mindlessly eradicating life. And the ritual I performed sanctified the deer. It is part of the cycle of life now, feeding me as it might feed a wolf or a warg or a bear.” He gazed out into the darkness. “Whoever was following you is still following you, but they are not near enough to be a concern. They have just now crossed the spot where I found you this morning, and they are on our trail. Your companions are leaving signs as they walk that a blind man could see. There is no hope of eluding them. With my presence, they will think twice about attacking again.”<br />
<br />
“Aiar put up wards around our camp, the night after they attacked us. Can you do that too?”<br />
<br />
Ollemar grimaced at the fae’s name. “I have no need. The forest itself warns me.”<br />
<br />
“You can fight them all yourself?”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn was silent for a while, watching the deer haunch turn over the fire. “The magic you described was very powerful. I would gladly give my life to stop them, but then you would be unprotected. Go now, and rest. There will be food soon, and then you must sleep. Tomorrow we will reach the Vângr.”<br />
<br />
Erik did as the Brandrinn told him. He found a mossy spot in a hollow, and was surprised when Kari crawled in to join him. She said nothing, but nestled her head against his shoulder. He wondered what Sannfred would think if he saw them like that. <i>A week ago we were just kids,</i> Erik thought. <i>You wish that were still true, don’t you?</i><br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik dreamed of flying that night, soaring high over the fields beyond Bjarheim, then gliding down toward his home. The city was unsullied, its towers touching the sky, the slate roofs of its houses glowing in the sunset. But the longer he flew, the harder it became, until it took all his willpower just to stay aloft. He looked back and the Shadow had come out of nowhere; it was gaining on him. It touched his foot, an unexpectedly chill grip, and the land all around him turned to snow and ice. <i>The north,</i> said a voice, sounding as if it came from the glistening white that blanketed the landscape. <i>Go.</i><br />
<br />
He jerked awake. He was vaguely aware of Kari by his side, but his attention was on something floating before him in the darkness. It was a sparkle of violet light, pulsating in counterpoint with an orb of faint green energy. He tried to reach for it, but it wasn’t there; he realized, elated, that he was seeing these things inside his own mind.<br />
<br />
“Aiar!” he shouted, heedless of the pervading quiet of the forest. Kari started, sitting up, as Erik pulled his numb arm out from under her and scrambled to his feet. “Aiar, where are you?”<br />
<br />
The fae was sitting on a stump, waving his hands through the air, trailing some sort of frail webbing of violet light between them. He shook it away and glanced at Erik. “What?”<br />
<br />
“I think… I think I can see the <i>methar</i>.” <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-ix.html">Part IX</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-88687528860122885672013-04-09T23:41:00.000-07:002013-04-19T18:06:58.326-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part VIIIf you missed it, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">VI</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART VII</b></div>
<br />
When the sun rose high, they broke for lunch and finished off the hares. Sannfred led them to one of the caches he’d mentioned: a barrel coated in pitch, nailed shut, and sunk waist-deep in the ground. Concealed as it was amidst shrubs and rocks, Erik realized he would’ve strolled right past it if Sannfred hadn’t pointed it out.<br />
<br />
It was crammed full of salt beef, nuts, and dried fruit. Everyone wanted to gorge themselves, but Sannfred—and, surprisingly, Aiar—sternly told them all that they were on rationing until they reached the forest. “You will die here if you waste your resources,” Aiar said.<br />
<br />
“You’re bigger than us all,” Thora retorted. “You just want more for yourself!”<br />
<br />
Aiar glowered, picked up a single black walnut, and popped it into his mouth. “That is the sum total of my sustenance for today, nitwit. Fae have other resources.”<br />
<br />
In the end it was Thora who ended up trying to hoard more than she should. Erik noticed that she’d stuffed a pouch of salt beef under her shirt; when he pointed it out to Sannfred, Thora glared daggers at him. Erik wanted to keep an eye on her, but the looks she gave him were so vicious that he was afraid to stay close.<br />
<br />
The Frays weren’t about to abandon a fellow Bjarnheimer out in the wilderness, but they made her walk in the front of the group so they could watch her. Of course she started dragging her feet, slowing the whole party. Finally Aiar came back and shouted at her until she got up to a reasonable pace.<br />
<br />
By midafternoon, they’d all begun to fall prey to fatigue. Even Aiar drooped in the heat. Erik looked back when they stopped in a meadow, but Bjarheim was lost behind the hills. He fretted about Da again. Da had been out in the city when the Shadow came. He’d have seen it and escaped. Erik gritted his teeth and wiped away incipient tears. He couldn’t start thinking about it, or he’d never be able to keep going.<br />
<br />
As they prepared to get moving again, Erik noticed a spot of ground near him that seemed to have gone sickly and dead, as if the grass had simply decided to give up the ghost. In fact the longer he watched it, the faster it withered. It had started out no larger than his fist, hadn’t it? Now it was half a pace across, and growing.<br />
<br />
“Hey!” he shouted, backing away from it. An uneasy instinct made him turn around. Another dead spot, perfectly round, expanded toward his feet. The grass turned brown and then black with horrifying speed. “Look out!”<br />
<br />
All over the meadow the circles appeared, withering the once-vibrant grass in seconds. One of the two other men who’d gone hunting with Sannfred, a tall bony fellow named Florr, yelped and tried to stomp one of the spots with his foot, as if he could somehow stop its spread. But then he couldn’t pick his foot up off the ground. “Help! It’s got me!”<br />
<br />
Sannfred rushed over and grabbed Florr’s arm, but no matter how hard he pulled, Florr’s foot wouldn’t come loose. The deadness began to creep up Florr’s leg. The color drained from it, the threads of his trousers disintegrated and flaked off, and within seconds the man’s flesh had begun to turn black. He screamed.<br />
<br />
Sannfred, cursing, let him go and backed away. The dead spots were everywhere; a dozen or more, no, at least twenty—Erik ran between them, aiming for the edge of the meadow, hoping for safety in the trees. He jerked to a halt as blackened deadness sprouted anew before him. He teetered forward, losing his balance—<br />
<br />
Something yanked him upright. He twirled around to find himself face to face with Kari. There was terror in her face that Erik was sure mirrored his; but determination, too, and that gave him heart. Hand in hand, they ran another way.<br />
<br />
Erik saw Aiar gesture violently. A streak of violet light appeared, spearing one of the expanding dead spots right in its center. The decay halted at once, but did not reverse. Other spots continued to appear and grow. The fae shouted, “There are too many! Run!”<br />
<br />
Kari and Erik made it to a copse at the edge of the meadow. There were no dead spots there, to Erik’s immense relief. “It’s safe in the trees!” he shouted back. The others had avoided stepping in any of the decay, except poor Florr, whose screams had already stopped. He was now no more than a pile of rotting flesh amidst a field of black. The circles of decay had joined together, forming one large corroded morass. At last they stopped growing.<br />
<br />
“We should go,” Sannfred said, refusing to look back, and herding the rest along through the trees.<br />
<br />
Erik stared out over the meadow, and just as he turned, he saw something moving. Shapes, beyond the meadow. Men. Then Sannfred was in his way. When Erik dodged around the bulky Fray patriarch and looked again, he saw nothing.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The way became steeper the farther they went. These hills, which had always looked small compared to the great Skarstands to the east, now seemed to be pushing up against the very sky.<br />
<br />
Erik told Aiar about the men he thought he’d seen. He expected dismissiveness from the fae, but Aiar merely nodded and grumbled. “We are followed. I suspected it yesterday. Whoever they are, they are too few to assault us directly. Hence that awful magic that ambushed us.”<br />
<br />
“What was it?” Erik said.<br />
<br />
Aiar pressed his lips together. “I have not encountered it before. It is magic of darkness, to be sure. My counterattack was barely able to stop it. There were too many.” He glared down at Erik. “You should be practicing sensing the <i>methar</i>.”<br />
<br />
“While we’re bein’ attacked? How’m I supposed to do that?”<br />
<br />
“A fool ignores the tools he has available,” Aiar snapped, and loped on ahead, leaving Erik feeling very sure that he was the fool in question.<br />
<br />
By sundown, they were all exhausted. Aiar announced that he would place wards around their camp, to notify them if anyone approached.<br />
<br />
Erik watched intently as Aiar worked, but he could not tell what the fae was doing. “I can… I can see you doing something. It’s like weaving. But it… it don’t make sense to me.”<br />
<br />
“Nor will it, until you have mastered sensing the <i>methar</i>. Now sit down and focus!” He shooed Erik away and went back to his magic.<br />
<br />
“I told you we should have gone south!” Thora said, tugging her shawl tight around her. “Whoever it was that attacked us—”<br />
<br />
“Shut your damn face,” said a voice Erik hadn’t heard before. <i>How’m I supposed to focus, when everyone’s yelling all the damn time?</i> He realized it was the young mother, who had trouped along with them without a word’s complaint. Her baby barely made any sound either, though Erik supposed that might be because it was constantly suckling at her breast. She hadn’t any spare cloths with her, but the baby seemed content to tinkle into the grass now and again.<br />
<br />
And he certainly never would’ve guessed her for fierce. She looked like she’d fall over if a kitten said boo. But Thora, startled by the unexpected verbal assault, irritably clamped her mouth shut and strode away from the campfire that Sanfred and Gaelle were working at building.<br />
<br />
It wasn’t going well. The wood here was all damp, thanks to a rainstorm earlier that had just missed them. Erik thought about offering to help, but the elder Frays would probably just yell at him. Instead he looked at the piece of wood that Sannfred was furiously rolling between his hands, trying to encourage some heat.<br />
<br />
Oddly, the point of contact between the two pieces of wood seemed… somehow interesting. He’d seen fires made like this before, but now he noticed a tiny orange nodule sitting right at the junction, like a firefly. He crept closer, taking care not to raise the Frays’ ire. The little orange spot ebbed and flowed with Sannfred’s exertions. It was going to take him hours to bring up a fire at this rate.<br />
<br />
Instinctively, Erik reached out to the orange nub and <i>pulled</i>.<br />
<br />
A bright flash dazzled him, and a flare of intense heat on his face made him cry out and fall back. Sannfred shouted and stumbled back. The elder Fray’s entire arm had caught fire.<br />
<br />
Maintaining a presence of mind that Erik envied, Sannfred dove to the ground and rolled his arm under himself. The flames went out quickly, as Gaelle stood over her husband, gobsmacked. “Dear! Are you all right?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t get it,” Sannfred said a minute later, once he’d calmed. He gingerly rolled up the charred remnants of his sleeve, wincing at every motion. The skin underneath was red and blistered already. Not an awful burn; he’d gotten the fire out quick. But his arm would be tender for days. “Th’ fire just blew up, like somethin’ spooked it.”<br />
<br />
Gaelle straightened up and glanced around, startled. “Is it… the ones who attacked us? Are they back?”<br />
<br />
“No,” Aiar said. He’d just come back over from the edge of their camp. “The wards were already in place before that happened, and—” He glanced at the fire, and froze. His jaw dropped open, and after a moment he stared in awe at Erik. “How did you do that?” For once, there was no hostility in his voice. Just… amazement.<br />
<br />
“I—I don’t know. I saw somethin’, and I pulled it.” What the hell <i>had</i> he done? He still hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the <i>methar</i>. Had he done magic somehow without realizing it?<br />
<br />
Aiar’s skepticism returned at once. “Do <i>not</i> do anything like that again, you imbecile! You could have killed him!”<br />
<br />
“But I don’t even know what I <i>did</i>!” Erik protested. “I just—”<br />
<br />
“It—it shouldn’t be possible. To manipulate—without the <i>methar</i>—” He glared at Erik as if this was all <i>his</i> fault. As if Erik had been the one to decide he was capable of learning fae magic!<br />
<br />
The fae sighed and rubbed his nose. “Be cautious. You must learn to sense the <i>methar</i>, before you kill someone.”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder as they walked. Whoever was after them wasn’t going to give up. Erik could feel it.<br />
<br />
He tried asking Aiar about the fire, and what Erik had done, but Aiar would not speak of it. “Sense the <i>methar</i>. You must do nothing else until you sense the <i>methar.</i>” There was more than the usual disdain in his voice. He was… worried. And that worried Erik.<br />
<br />
So he tried to sense the <i>methar</i>, whatever it was. He tried to look inward as he walked, to see what lay within his mind; but inevitably his thoughts drifted, and he would realize with a jerk that he was thinking about Da, or Bjarheim, or Kari, or just watching over his shoulder, trying to decide if the shadow beside that pine was innocent or not…<br />
<br />
Only when they stopped could he focus, because only then could he close his eyes. He rummaged around in his mind, trying to find the <i>methar</i>. He saw shapes and colors; odd geometric patterns flared in his vision when he rubbed his eyes. But it was all ordinary. Frustrated, he punched his palm and decided to give it a rest.<br />
<br />
He went to find Sannfred. Mister Fray was talking to Kari in low tones, while the twins raced around in circles, ignoring their mother’s admonishments to sit still. Kari nodded and slunk away, as if in contemplation. She’d been more conciliatory since the night Aiar had shown up, but Erik really hadn’t had a chance to talk to her. At least she wasn’t glaring at him any more.<br />
<br />
Erik stopped before Sannfred. “So, erm… do we know where we’ll find a woodsman?”<br />
<br />
“The fae says there’s one near, off that way.” He gestured halfheartedly to the north. The hills had begun to descend and flatten a little, and there were more and more trees. Not quite forest yet, but almost.<br />
<br />
Erik realized that Sannfred was eyeing him. “Sir?”<br />
<br />
“Whatever the fae’s doin’ with you… you be careful, boy, you hear? I know your father. He wouldn’t approve o’ this.”<br />
<br />
“I have to,” Erik argued. “My… my mama was part fae, Da said. I have to do this.” He paused. “’Sides, no one listens to me. If I can do magic…”<br />
<br />
Sannfred grumbled. “You best be careful with that line o’ thinkin’, boy. If’n the only reason you get respect is ’cause folk are scared of you…” He shook his head, unwilling to finish the thought.<br />
<br />
<i>He doesn’t know how it feels.</i> Learning magic would mean that grown-ups would finally have to listen. Erik wasn’t going to threaten them with it, if that’s what Sannfred was thinking! He’d only ever use his magic for good reasons, he swore to himself. Wouldn’t that make others respect him just as much?<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
The trees got thick enough to become a constant nuisance. Erik saw no signs of pursuit, and no more evil pools of decaying grass sprang upon them. They were in true forest now; but where were the woodsmen?<br />
<br />
“We’ll be lucky t’ find even one,” Sannfred grumbled when Erik asked, “let alone several together.”<br />
<br />
They’d broken for lunch, not anywhere in particular; clearings were few and far between, so they spread out among the trees, leaning up against the trunks for support. Erik took a risk and went to sit by Kari. He didn’t say anything, and she didn’t either, but she did favor him with a smile. A tiny smile, lost within the obvious despair on her face. It nearly broke his heart.<br />
<br />
Everyone ate quietly, even Thora, who had taken up her complaining again, if a bit less forcefully. Thurgald, the other man in the group, sat at the edge, staring out into the trees beyond. He said he’d been a carpenter in Bjarheim, but somehow he also knew a lot about hunting and surviving in the wilderness. He wouldn’t say how or why he acquired those skills. Rather than being evasive, he simply stared at Erik until he changed the subject.<br />
<br />
Erik was startled when a thin black line sprouted from Thurgald’s neck, and the man toppled silently over. Ilvha, the young mother, sat near him, nursing her babe. She shrieked and tumbled backward, somehow keeping her child clasped to her breast.<br />
<br />
Everyone else lurched to their feet, reaching for whatever primitive weapons they had at hand. Mostly they’d amassed a collection of thick branches to use as clubs, although Gaelle Fray had for some reason brought her kitchen knife, and held it out before her in steady hands.<br />
<br />
Erik scrambled over to Thurgald, realizing belatedly that whoever had shot Thurgald would probably now have a clear line of sight to Erik. He pushed that thought away and looked at the dart. It was a narrow reed of some kind, with a heavy, bulbous tip and a tapering rear. It hadn’t gone far into Thurgald’s neck, but the tip was coated with some sort of greenish slime.<br />
<br />
But Thurgald was still breathing. Whatever it was, it hadn’t killed him. Erik looked down at the carpenter’s hand. In it he gripped a hunting knife, the most substantial weapon their entire group carried. <i>Except Aiar’s magic, right?</i><br />
<br />
Something tickled Erik’s neck. For a terrifying moment, he thought another dart had found him, but it wasn’t that sort of sensation. He could feel something—up there. He looked up into the branches overhead; clouds of pine needles obscured all but fragments of the blue sky above. Then, inexplicably, one of those clouds resolved into the shape of a man, perched perfectly still atop a branch.<br />
<br />
“You up there!” Erik shouted. The man, whoever it was, jerked in surprise. There was something else Erik could see, some sort of—<br />
<br />
The man put something to his mouth, some sort of hollow tube. Suddenly Aiar was standing before Erik. The fae’s hands stretched upward. Something flew through the air, clattered, and fell softly onto the earth. Another dart, just like the one that had felled Thurgald.<br />
<br />
But it had stopped harmlessly in midair, right before Aiar’s neck. “Come down, you dolt,” the fae shouted up at the man. “We’re not your enemies!”<br />
<br />
The man in the branches hesitated, considering, and then leapt down from branch to branch as lightly as a feather. He somersaulted into a crouch on the forest floor.<br />
<br />
“Yes, very impressive,” Aiar said. “You are Brandrinn, and we are in need of your assistance.”<br />
<br />
“Must be pretty awful,” the man drawled, “if they’re sendin’ filthy fae out to look for help.” He’d put away his dart-shooter, whatever it was, and instead drew a thick quarterstaff from his back. It was inscribed end-to-end with runes of some sort. Erik could, without being able to explain how, feel power radiating from it.<br />
<br />
Aiar snarled, the first time Erik had ever heard him make such a noise. “The Shadow has come to Bjarheim,” he said. “We need your help to defeat it.”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn ignored him. “You, boy.” He levelled the staff at Erik. “How did you see me up there?”<br />
<br />
“I—I just looked, and there you were.”<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn frowned. “Have you trained with my brethren, then? No other could detect me so easily.”<br />
<br />
“I’ve never even seen a woodsman before,” Erik said, his heart racing. Did this man mean them harm? Why had he shot Thurgald? “I’m learning fae magic from him.”<br />
<br />
The woodsman’s jaw dropped open. The staff slipped from his fingers, and he fell to his knees. “By all the gods… it cannot be now…”<br />
<br />
“What are you blathering about?” Aiar demanded.<br />
<br />
The Brandrinn’s eyes drifted between Erik and the fae. His mouth worked for a moment. “He… he is our destruction, and our salvation.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-viii.html">Part VIII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-34739562670700053952013-04-03T23:36:00.001-07:002013-04-09T23:42:31.686-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part VIIf you missed it, check out the earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>:<br />
<a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">IV</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-v.html">V</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART VI</b></div>
<br />
By sunset, the corruption of Bjarheim had completed. Erik sat watching on the edge of an uncomfortable rock, his knees drawn up before him. The black shadow enveloping Bjarheim writhed in the distance, like something alive and malevolent.<br />
<br />
He’d wanted to get away from it, but he kept feeling himself drawn back. Sannfred Fray and two other men had disappeared off into the hills in the late morning, returning hours later with a brace of hares. “We’ll need food t’ keep our strength up,” he’d declared. “There’s caches of packed dry goods off in th’ hills here an’ there, but we’d be fools t’ rely on ’em.”<br />
<br />
Erik had wanted to go with them, but Sannfred had told him in no uncertain terms that he was too young and must stay behind with the others. “I’m fourteen now, I’m a man!” Erik had insisted, to no avail. This was no lark, they’d said; this was serious.<br />
<br />
When he did manage to draw his eyes away from the city, he kept himself busy playing with the twins, or scouting around the edges of the ridge. Missus Fray scolded him when she caught him at it, though, claiming he’d get lost and eaten by wolves. “I escaped the Shadow,” he argued. “Wolves’re nothin’ compared to that.” It did him no good; she grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the rest of the group.<br />
<br />
A few more folk had straggled in by noon, but there the flow stopped. Aside from the Frays, there were seven others: the two men who had gone off hunting with Sannfred; a young, terrified woman, carrying her mewling baby; an older woman with a shawl who glared at the others as if the Shadow were <i>their</i> doing; and a young couple who had, they blushingly revealed, been enjoying a late-night romp in the fields when the Shadow had come.<br />
<br />
In the afternoon, they sat around a rudimentary campfire, gnawing on blackened hare. “The woodsmen are our only hope,” Sannfred told them. “It’s clear that… that no help’ll come from the city. If the ironspeakers or th’ priests had any warnin’, they weren’t able t’ stop it in time. And who knows what even happened to th’ fae! We’ll have t’ go find the woodsmen ourselves.”<br />
<br />
“Pish,” the shawl-wearing woman—named Thora—said. She hadn’t touched her hare. “Those leaf-eaters are hardly better than animals, hiding in the forest.”<br />
<br />
“None of that,” Sannfred growled, but the woman was unfazed.<br />
<br />
“Do you have another idea?” Erik asked.<br />
<br />
“We should go south, to Belj. My sister lives there.”<br />
<br />
“But th’ woodsmen are north, in th’ forest.”<br />
<br />
“And that’s why I’m going south, to where I <i>know</i> it’s safe.” She glanced around the circle, a challenge in her eyes. “Anyone who has any sense will come with me.”<br />
<br />
“You’re mad to head there yourself!” Erik said. “It’s a hundred miles if it were an inch, an’ you’ve got no horse, an’ no supplies.”<br />
<br />
“Hmf.” Thora stood up, glaring at him. “We will survive. The land will provide. Your feet may be too weak to make the journey, but I assure you that mine are not.”<br />
<br />
“Enough,” Gaelle Fray said, standing up and meeting Thora’s eyes. “We’re all tired and in need of rest. No one’s going anywhere before tomorrow. Now let’s wait and see if anyone else comes, and in the morning we’ll start out, whichever way we end up going.”<br />
<br />
There was no arguing with her firm tone. Thora harrumphed again and strode away, to sit by herself on the grass. She eyed Erik as she went. He had no idea who she was, but he was getting sick of people glaring at him.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Erik watched as the sun’s last glimmer dropped below the horizon. Bjarheim was a shadow on the land now. He felt cold tendrils encircling his heart. How were they ever going to free Bjarheim? Would the woodsmen be able to help? Finding one could be difficult, if he didn’t want to be found; they were said to blend into the very trees themselves. And everyone always said that woodsmen lived and worked alone; would a single Brandrinn be able to do anything against the vast Shadow?<br />
<br />
Erik glanced around the ridge. Most of the others had found shade and managed to doze. The young, nervous couple were still awake, sitting a little apart, glancing about glumly. Erik looked at them, then noticed Kari sitting on the grass not far beyond them, staring out toward Bjarheim.<br />
<br />
She could hardly flee from him now; but if she really wanted nothing to do with him, then what good would it do to approach her? <i>No. I ain’t gonna lose her with no explanation!</i><br />
<br />
He put Bjarheim at his back and walked over to her. She saw him coming, and her eyes narrowed a bit, but she did not make any move to escape. He sat down at twice arm’s length. If they both reached out, they could just brush fingers. The memory of her hand in his still clawed at him, even all these weeks later.<br />
<br />
“How are you?” he asked, after a few moments of awkward silence.<br />
<br />
“How d’you think?” she snapped.<br />
<br />
He didn’t want to let her get to him; he didn’t want to argue. But he could feel his hackles rising. “Aiar came to see me, a couple weeks ago,” he said, trying to sound conversational. “He said I might be able to learn fae magic, if you can believe it.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t.”<br />
<br />
He boiled over. <i>That was fast.</i> “What on earth did I do to you?”<br />
<br />
“You—” She bit her lip and looked away. She was trembling. With rage? Fear?<br />
<br />
“Tell me,” he insisted.<br />
<br />
“You could have died,” Kari said at last.<br />
<br />
Erik blinked, bemused. “What? When?”<br />
<br />
“When you let the fae use you for—for whatever that magic was. In the street.” She looked at him again now. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but her voice remained just as harsh. “You fell, and I thought you were dead.”<br />
<br />
“Let him!” he squawked. “He dragged me into it! I didn’t have a choice.”<br />
<br />
“You… you weren’t supposed to leave.”<br />
<br />
“I didn’t,” Erik said. “I’m right here.” Tentatively, he reached out a hand. He hoped beyond hope that she would—<br />
<br />
“YOU!” came a shout, and Erik turned toward it, startled. A shape lurched upward, a stone’s throw away. Erik took a moment to realize that it was bursting from the ground, sending clods of dirt and grass flying into the air. He leapt to his feet, and before he’d even thought about it, put himself between Kari and… whatever it was.<br />
<br />
After a moment he placed the voice. The dirt fell away, and a seven-foot fae stood before him: Aiar.<br />
<br />
“What in the hells?” Erik said, stepping forward. “Where did you come from?”<br />
<br />
“I have spent the last day burrowing through the earth like a <i>kjeldausk!</i>” Aiar shouted. Sannfred Fray sat up groggily, staring around at the noise. “All to escape the Shadow, whose arrival was <i>your</i> fault!”<br />
<br />
“What? I had nothing to do with it! You refused to teach me—”<br />
<br />
“When I was under the earth, I felt the nexus of it right where your home stands, as I was passing beneath it. You must have done something! Did you attempt to tap into your <i>methar</i> without training, you foolish dolt?”<br />
<br />
“I haven’t done anything! I don’t know how to use the <i>methar</i>. I don’t know the first thing about it!”<br />
<br />
“What in blazes are you yelling about? Why’s a fae here?” Sannfred had gotten up and stepped between them, holding out his hands as if they’d been about to leap at each other’s throats.<br />
<br />
Aiar stood clenching and unclenching his fists, blinking rapidly. The sky was faintest purple now, and soon only the stars and half a moon would remain. “The Shadow came, and I could not go aboveground. The rest of the fae are trapped in our warrens, using all their might to hold back the Shadow from entering. Only one could be spared to go seek help.” He paused, emitted a great sigh, and fell to one knee, as if fatigued. Erik rushed forward, but Sannfred blocked him.<br />
<br />
Aiar met his eyes again. “I have used all my strength… it takes much magic to… move the earth as I did. Now that I am here…” He wobbled, and then fell onto his side.<br />
<br />
Erik, alarmed, broke from Sannfred’s grasp and went to Aiar’s side. The fae was still breathing, his eyes fluttering faintly. “Aiar! Wake up!” he shouted. “Is he going to die?” he asked the others; everyone had come awake and gathered around, even bitter old Thora.<br />
<br />
“I can’t say I know much ’bout a fae’s limits,” Sannfred said.<br />
<br />
“He’ll be fine,” Gaelle stated flatly. “Let him rest.” Sannfred looked up at her, startled, but she offered no more.<br />
<br />
Erik sat down next to Aiar and waited. The fae’s eyes had closed, but he breathed regularly, as if asleep. Kari came over and sat down on Aiar’s other side. <i>Out of my reach. Again.</i><br />
<br />
An hour passed as the sky darkened completely. Sannfred and the other men built up the fire again; by its light, Erik watched the ancient fae—<i>eight hundred and seventy years!</i>—breathing calmly. Erik’s eyes had begun to droop, when abruptly Aiar coughed and sat up.<br />
<br />
“Ah. Hm. That was restful.” He crossed his legs and looked down at Erik.<br />
<br />
“Are you all right?”<br />
<br />
“Fae recover quickly. Do not concern yourself with my health. If you did not meddle with the <i>methar</i>, then why did I sense a locus of magic at your house?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t—Remy!” Erik said, almost startling himself. “He came to my house just before the Shadow arrived! He tried to attack me.”<br />
<br />
“The ever-maligned Remy Thurain,” Aiar mused. “You,” he addressed Sannfred. “You are of the Conclave, yes?”<br />
<br />
“I am,” Kari’s father said, crossing his arms firmly. “What of it?”<br />
<br />
“Do you fools <i>still</i> believe that this Remy fellow had nothing to do with the <i>siktar</i>? Or do you accuse Erik Rain of lies and deceit?”<br />
<br />
Sannfred glowered, his beard bristling like quills. “I ain’t in a position to speak for the Conclave.”<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted. “Well observe the evidence before you. Remy Thurain is accused of using dark magics, and then he disappears for weeks, only to resurface right as Bjarheim is enveloped by the Shadow. You, sir, are an idiot.” He turned back to Erik, ignoring Sannfred’s sputtering. “Have you a plan for the morning?”<br />
<br />
Erik stared at him. “I, uh… we’re… we’re going to find the woodsm—the Brandrinn,” he said, using the proper term. The idea of joining the Brandrinn had appealed to him all these weeks, but the knowledge that he could learn fae magic… He saw two murky paths before him, and hadn’t the faintest clue what lay along either of them.<br />
<br />
As if reading his mind, Aiar spoke. “If you were to learn fae magic, you could not join the Brandrinn. A man may only learn one form of magic, and then all others become closed to him.”<br />
<br />
Erik looked up sharply. “Are you offering to teach me fae magic?”<br />
<br />
Aiar snorted. “You would be the worst student I have ever had. With your utter lack of discipline—”<br />
<br />
“So you <i>are</i> a teacher.”<br />
<br />
Aiar shrugged. “I teach those who can learn. I do not waste my time with the unteachable.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah,” Erik said, trying to sound disappointed. “You probably couldn’t teach a human if you tried.”<br />
<br />
Aiar reached out and slapped Erik on the side of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, but it stung. “Do you think I am unfamiliar with that gambit? As if you—<i>you!</i>—might wound my pride.” But he did not snort or sigh. “It would be unwise to let an untrained whelp such as you run wild, though. And it would be a fascinating experiment. I am not aware of any fae ever agreeing to teach a human. Not that there have been many candidates. Only those with fae ancestry would have the <i>methar</i>, and—”<br />
<br />
“Wait, so <i>now</i> you’re completely fine with me havin’ fae blood?” Erik said. “You nearly lost your wits when you realized it before!”<br />
<br />
“Because I did not know it was possible. Now I have had time to think, and study. There have been other cases before, but very few. Fae and humans do not mate, because even though there are many humans with the <i>disgusting</i> predilection for engaging in relations with fae, the reverse is, thankfully, extremely rare.” He grinned, and not pleasantly. “Virtually all fae find humans repulsive.”<br />
<br />
“Wait, <i>what?</i>” Kari said, speaking for the first time since Aiar had arrived. “You’re part <i>fae?</i>”<br />
<br />
“Apparently,” Erik said, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Kari’s disapproval wounded him in some way that all of Aiar’s insults couldn’t. “It’s not my fault!”<br />
<br />
“The usual human denial of responsibility,” Aiar snarked.<br />
<br />
“As if I went back in time to force my great-gran or whoever to mate with a fae? I’d slap <i>you</i> upside the head if I had long enough arms,” Erik shot back.<br />
<br />
“I would be amazed to see you try. Now, tomorrow we will journey to find the nearest Brandrinn, and I will begin to teach you to use the <i>methar</i>.”<br />
<br />
Erik stared. There was something missing here. “And what do you want in return?”<br />
<br />
Aiar pressed his lips into something that might charitably be called a smile. “You are wise to ask. I will require something of you later, and you must agree to it.”<br />
<br />
“Without knowing what it is? Not a chance.”<br />
<br />
“Then you may test your luck finding another fae who will teach you.” Aiar sprung up to his feet and began to walk away. “I can find my own way to the Brandrinn.”<br />
<br />
“Wait!” Erik scrambled after him. “What kind of thing’re you gonna ask of me?”<br />
<br />
“I cannot tell you, because I do not know yet. It is merely a debt that must be paid off later.” He was still walking; Erik had to nearly run to keep up.<br />
<br />
“Argh—fine! I’ll do it.”<br />
<br />
This brought the fae to a stop. Aiar swung around and grabbed Erik by the chin. “Swear.”<br />
<br />
“I—I swear on my life,” Erik said. He hoped he wasn’t going to regret this.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
Dawn found them trudging through the hills; even Thora, who had not managed to convince anyone to go south with her. It seemed she was not quite so determined to go off alone. This did not keep her from incessantly muttering that they should forget about the woodsmen and head south.<br />
<br />
Erik was excited to learn something about magic, something real. His whole life, magic had just been something mysterious that certain grown-ups did, and here he was, about to learn it!<br />
<br />
Aiar hadn’t said anything about it all morning, and finally Erik’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’ll I learn first?” he asked Aiar. The fae strode briskly onward, stopping occasionally to sniff the air and, after Erik insisted, let the others catch up with his longer strides.<br />
<br />
“A fae spends his first century learning the basics of magic,” Aiar said. “You humans with your puny lifespans will not have so long. Yet it would be unwise to rush things, lest you overreach and destroy yourself. Or worse, me.”<br />
<br />
“I promise I’ll be careful,” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“Human promises! What a valuable currency.” He snorted. “Your intended caution has nothing to do with it. Using the <i>methar</i> can wreak havoc even under the best of conditions.” He waved irritably at their surroundings. “This falls far short of ideal. But time is short. Normally, for a fae, the first step is learning to sense the <i>methar</i>, and such training usually lasts at least a decade. For you, I suppose we must compress things a bit. A year should suffice.”<br />
<br />
“A <i>year?</i>” Erik squawked. “A year just to learn to sense magic?”<br />
<br />
“Not magic. The <i>methar</i>.” Aiar sighed and came to a halt again. The rest of the party was a hundred yards back; Erik’s legs ached from keeping up with Aiar, but he wasn’t about to let the fae hear him complain about <i>that</i>. “It appears differently to different people. Some see it as a candle’s flame; others a bright star.”<br />
<br />
“How do I see it? Where do I look?”<br />
<br />
“You look within. Now contemplate that silently for a while. Your incessant questions grind upon my nerves.” He strode off, and Erik took the hint to leave Aiar alone for a time.<br />
<br />
He let himself fall back to the rest of the group. They all gave him odd looks, but no one said anything for a bit—well, Thora was muttering something about foolish children—until a man’s voice spoke up. It was the husband of the young couple who’d been caught outside of Bjarheim; his name was Ludwin. “He seems a bit of a prat, eh?”<br />
<br />
“Not the nicest fellow I ever met,” Erik agreed.<br />
<br />
“Never met a fae ’fore,” Ludwin said. “Think he’ll really take us t’ find a woodsman?”<br />
<br />
“I hope. What good one woodsman—one Brandrinn’ll do against the Shadow, though…” He caught Sannfred Fray’s eye. “D’you know anything ’bout what the Brandrinn can do, sir?”<br />
<br />
“Th’ Shadow’s death,” Sannfred huffed. His cheeks were red with exertion. “Woodsmen guard th’ forest; so they’re all about life. Like fire an’ water, if they mix. That’s the theory, anyhow. Never seen a woodsman in action, meself.”<br />
<br />
“Will we find one?” Erik asked. “They must know what to do about the Shadow.”<br />
<br />
“They’d better,” Sannfred said. “If not… then th’ city may be lost forever.”<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vii.html">Part VII</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-56883254070519502962013-03-28T10:50:00.000-07:002013-04-03T23:38:55.766-07:00Bjarheim's Shadow, Part VIf you missed it, check out earlier chapters of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i>: <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/02/bjarheims-shadow-part-i.html">Part I</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-ii.html">Part II</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iii.html">Part III</a>, <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/03/bjarheims-shadow-part-iv.html">Part IV</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>BJARHEIM’S SHADOW - PART V</b></div>
<br />
“That’s ominous, but not very helpful,” Erik said.<br />
<br />
“The details are not important! What is important is how to fight it.” Aiar glanced uneasily at the fire crackling in the hearth. “<i>Em Salkatar</i> is old enough that even we fae do not remember its origins. The aged among us pontificate about its philosophical significance, but the more sensible busy ourselves with ensuring that it does not destroy all.”<br />
<br />
Erik smirked at the fae. “So you’re a sensible one, huh?”<br />
<br />
Aiar scowled. “It would be foolish to argue otherwise. Do you know how long Bjarheim has been here?”<br />
<br />
“I dunno. Ages?”<br />
<br />
“Six hundred and forty-nine years since the first men erected the first structures. Our tunnels were already present. I still remember how astonished they were when we popped out of the ground to ask them what precisely they thought they were doing on our land.”<br />
<br />
“You <i>remember?</i> You’re six hundred and forty-nine years old?” Erik had known fae lived longer than men, but this was absurd.<br />
<br />
Aiar sniffed disdainfully. “I am eight hundred and seventy years old,” he declared. “I was merely a child when your forebears showed up.”<br />
<br />
“So what are you now? If you’re not one of the, uh, ’elders…’”<br />
<br />
“Do not concern yourself with the fae. You wanted answers about the Shadow, and those I have gladly provided.”<br />
<br />
“If this is ’gladly’ then I’d hate to see you put out,” Erik said. Somehow, he wasn’t afraid of Aiar any more, even thought he felt like he should be. He wanted Kari to be here, to see how he was boldly confronting this arrogant creature.<br />
<br />
“We are getting far afield. Is there any other information you desire, or are you finished holding my inspection of your mind hostage to your curiosity?”<br />
<br />
“How do I fight the Shadow?”<br />
<br />
“<i>You</i> do not fight the Shadow, because you are an empty-headed child. When I am done with you, then you may go off and learn your inane human magics. Only then will you change from completely useless to only mostly useless.”<br />
<br />
Erik was of a mind to try and throw Aiar out, bargain or no. If all fae were so rude, then it was a miracle they’d ever survived this long. “So <i>is</i> there anything of use you can tell me?”<br />
<br />
“I shall reiterate. Go learn magic, preferably from the Brandrinn. They are the least useless of your magic-wielding folk. If you want to fight the Shadow, you will learn best from them.” He stood up. “I am tired of questions. You will let me inspect your mind now.”<br />
<br />
The arrogance in Aiar’s voice <i>almost</i> made Erik resist again, but he had to give in sooner or later. “This had better not hurt,” he growled, trying to sound threatening.<br />
<br />
Aiar waved it away. “It <i>should</i> not hurt. I cannot promise. Even if so, it will be temporary. You humans cannot even look ahead a few minutes to when things might be different.” He came over to Erik and put his hand atop Erik’s head. “Hold still.”<br />
<br />
Erik didn’t know what to expect; some manner of violet light playing in intricate patterns in his mind, or maybe a mystical droning sound.<br />
<br />
What actually happened was, as far as he could tell, precisely nothing. For a few minutes Aiar stood there, squinting and blinking bemusedly. He muttered once in a while, but Erik couldn’t make it out. <i>If the lads could see me now, a fae in my house, poking around in my head…</i><br />
<br />
Suddenly Aiar gasped and leapt back. “What!”<br />
<br />
“What? What what?” Erik blinked. He’d felt nothing at all.<br />
<br />
“You… you have the <i>methar!</i>”<br />
<br />
“Have I even got to ask what that is?”<br />
<br />
“It…” Aiar gulped. “Could I have some water?”<br />
<br />
This unexpected politeness startled Erik. He fetched Aiar a cup and waited until the fae drained it. Aiar still looked shocked. “The <i>methar</i> is… it is the essence of our magic. It is the seed, the kernel, the thing that lets fae-folk use magic. But you are <i>human!</i>”<br />
<br />
“So… I could learn to use fae magic?” Erik said. “How’s that possible?”<br />
<br />
“It <i>isn’t!</i>” Aiar wailed. “This is… this… absurd!” He barrelled toward the door.<br />
<br />
“Wait! Where are you going? I want to know more!”<br />
<br />
Aiar said nothing and sprinted out into the night.<br />
<br />
Erik tried to run after him, but the long-legged fae was just too fast. By the time Erik reached the end of his lane, Aiar had disappeared down the next street, and in seconds he was out of sight. Erik stopped, gasping for air, and wishing for certainty. He’d been happy, running the streets with his friends, with Kari… just a child, with a child’s worries, a child’s wants…<br />
<br />
He went back home and waited for Da to return. He practiced what he wanted to say, but when Finnar finally came in, his father looked exhausted. No different than he’d looked on any other of a hundred nights, but somehow it impressed upon Erik as it never had before. He knew what it was: Finnar was beaten down by all this magical nonsense. He had no magic, Erik was sure; Finnar was no ironspeaker, or priest of the Order, or woodsman. It was probably all Da could do just to keep up.<br />
<br />
“Da… are you all right?” Erik said, once Finnar had settled into his chair by the fire, and had a bit of wine and some hard bread.<br />
<br />
Finnar looked at him. “Son… you’ve never asked me that before.”<br />
<br />
Erik was affronted. “Yes I have.”<br />
<br />
“No. Not like that.” He leaned forward, taking Erik’s arm, but not roughly, not like when Erik had done something bad and Da had meant to stripe his hide. “What happened?”<br />
<br />
Erik was afraid to tell the truth, to tell that a fae had come to visit, had said such terrible things about him… but he saw the worry in Finnar’s eyes, and he understood.<br />
<br />
He recounted Aiar’s visit, shaking his own head in wonder when he told about the <i>methar</i>. Erik expected Finnar to grow angry, but he didn’t. Instead, his face went pale.<br />
<br />
“By the gods…” Finnar whispered. “I hoped… I never wanted…”<br />
<br />
Erik wanted desperately to know what Da was thinking, but with a titanic effort of will he made himself wait. Da would work this out in his own time. <i>Don’t leave me in the dark, father.</i><br />
<br />
“Your… your mother was… I never believed her, but…” Finnar stopped, calming himself with measured breaths. “She said she was part fae.”<br />
<br />
Erik blinked back sudden tears. He remembered his Mama, her fair hair draped around her face as she leaned down to pick him up, to hold and sing. Faint memories, like the mayflies of spring, lasting only a moment in the face of the harsher seasons to come.<br />
<br />
“Why didn’t you tell me?”<br />
<br />
“I never thought it was important!” Finnar roared. “I thought she was puttin’ me on. Or that it was some family legend, some nonsense that her gran or grand-da passed down. But none o’ them were fae, that’s for damn certain. How could it be anything but a nonsense legend?”<br />
<br />
“Well a fae told me to my face that I’ve got fae magic!” Erik shouted. “How’m I supposed to take that?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t know!” Finnar stood up again. “Yer still my boy. Nothin’ changes that.”<br />
<br />
Erik clenched his hands, trying to stop himself from attacking his father—and failed. He lurched forward, flailing his fists, wanting badly to do some kind of damage, to get some kind of revenge on his father for surviving, for not leaving <i>like mother had</i>—<br />
<br />
Finnar fended off the blows, not fighting back. Erik punched and kicked and made a minor nuisance of himself until his strength gave out, and with the last of his blind rage he flung himself up the stairs and into his room.<br />
<br />
<i>To the hells with it all!</i> He slammed his fist against the wall, again and again, until the pain broke through. He sat on his bed, holding his bloodied knuckles. <i>I should clean that,</i> some distant part of him said. Instead he lay down on the bed, and had visions of Bjarheim burning until he fell asleep.<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
He had to tell Kari. She <i>had</i> to know. But he still couldn’t get to her. Missus Fray lost her patience and came after him with a broom, after the third time in a day he knocked on their door.<br />
<br />
Erik tried using his friend Jak as a go-between to carry a message to Kari, but Missus Fray saw through that ruse and beat Jak about the head and shoulders with her broom until he ran off into the night.<br />
<br />
Erik thought about going into the fae tunnels again, to find Aiar and demand some kind of explanation. But going in there alone felt wrong. Maybe Aiar would talk to the other fae and figure something out, and come back again.<br />
<br />
He didn’t, at least not for the next couple of weeks. Erik waited each night, hoping for a knock on the door, but when he heard footsteps outside, it was always Da. Erik always asked after the fae, or the Shadow, or any of it. Finnar reluctantly parted with a few tidbits of information, but rarely anything useful. The only thing he consistently reported was that there’d still been no sign of Remy Thurain since the day the <i>siktar</i> had come. That should have been enough to damn Remy, but Da claimed that the rest of the Conclave wanted to hear Remy’s side of the story first.<br />
<br />
Erik had grown used to it, his hopes dwindling. On a night three weeks after Aiar’s visit, well past the midnight bell, he heard footsteps outside, and went to greet his Da at the door.<br />
<br />
When he opened it, Remy Thurain stood there grinning.<br />
<br />
What came next Erik remembered only as bits and pieces: he backed away, banged against something, ran up the stairs, Remy’s cackle trailing after him, its fingers tripping Erik up as he reached the landing. Stumble, splinter, into the bedroom, out the window, <i>have to get away</i>—a curse, a shout, and finally a glance back and the realization that he was out in the street, in the cold, the moonlight a silent sentinel, its light drowning out the mild hearthfires glowing dully behind curtains.<br />
<br />
<i>Kari,</i> he thought, one last bitter time, and sprinted toward her house. No matter what magic Remy might have, there was no way he could catch Erik at a dead run.<br />
<br />
The moon and stars sparkled above—hadn’t they? Erik stared upward as he rounded the corner onto Kari’s street. The moon had dimmed, somehow. It was just as fat as before, but subdued, and the stars that sparkled all around it, ordinarily drowned in its silver majesty, were completely invisible. Clouds? No, clouds didn’t look like this.<br />
<br />
He pounded on the Frays’ door, glancing back constantly in case Remy had followed him. There were thumps inside, and the peephole swung open. It was Missus Fray, looking livid. “What on earth are you doing?” she demanded.<br />
<br />
“Something—something’s wrong! Remy Thurain just came to my house. And look!” Erik pointed up at the moon, hoping beyond hope that someone would just <i>listen</i> for once.<br />
<br />
Gaelle Fray sighed and opened the door, rubbing her eyes still. She looked up at the sky, rubbed some more. “No,” she breathed, and tore back inside, far faster than Erik would have thought possible.<br />
<br />
He went in after and shut the door, on the off chance Remy had tracked him here. Within a minute, the other Frays were all awake: Sannfred, Kari’s father, lumbered down the stairs in his nightdress, cursing and bumping into things and demanding to know what in the seven hells he’d been woken up for. Kari’s little brother and sister, the twins, came silently down as well, their mother hurriedly pushing them into their boots and fetching their big winter coats from a closet.<br />
<br />
Kari came last, looking as unhappy to see Erik as she’d been the last few times. Erik forced himself not to speak to her, and instead tried to stop Missus Fray in her mad careening about the house. “What is it? What did you see?”<br />
<br />
“Oh! Goodness!” she squeaked, as if she’d forgotten his presence. “We have to leave the city at once!”<br />
<br />
“What? Why?”<br />
<br />
“Why?” She grabbed Erik by the shoulders. “The Shadow!”<br />
<br />
<hr style="width: 100px;" />
<br />
They shouted to warn the neighbors, but Sannfred Fray would not let them hesitate for a moment once they were prepared for travel. “You ain’t got a thing but what you’re wearin’, so that’ll have to do,” the burly man said to Erik, bewildered that somehow Erik hadn’t anticipated this emergency and made up a rucksack. They rushed past darkened houses, shouting all the while that the Shadow had come to Bjarheim, and casting fearful looks at the sky.<br />
<br />
“Where are we going? Is there somewhere safe in the city center?” Erik asked, puffing to keep up. The Frays were a hardy lot; even the twins, Jarno and Kjesten, kept up their speed without complaining.<br />
<br />
“No. West. The Shadow is in the east, so we’re to head west, to a gathering place in the hills. Now save your breath and be quiet!”<br />
<br />
Erik did as he was told, stealing glances at Kari as they ran along the edge of Bjarheim, toward the western gate. That was the nearest place they could pierce the fae wall—it glowed happily, Erik was pleased to see—but the gate would never be open at this hour, would it?<br />
<br />
Some other folk had joined their pack, sickeningly few in number; Erik couldn’t believe that they weren’t going house to house, waking and warning everyone. By the time Erik and the Frays reached the west gate, there were maybe another half-dozen folk racing along with them.<br />
<br />
They stopped to catch their breath, casting wary glances skyward. The moon had shifted along the sky a bit, and if anything seemed even dimmer than before. Erik wondered what the Shadow would be like, if it came upon them; was it like the <i>siktar</i>, a creeping dimness that struck men down on contact? Or did it have some other nature entirely? Would they all go mad at once, or slowly?<br />
<br />
After a few minutes, when they’d caught their breath, Sannfred Fray approached the fae wall where it met the actual wooden gate itself. Just beside the gate, he pushed his hand into the fae wall, and for a moment nothing happened. Erik wondered if Sannfred was doing some magic. He wasn’t an ironspeaker, or—“It’ll only be open a moment, so rush through or we’ll have t’ go through this again,” he growled at them.<br />
<br />
“Go through what—” Erik blurted, before Sannfred grabbed him by the arm and hurled him at the fae wall. Erik expected to bounce off it as usual, but instead it caught him like slow molasses. He drifted through it, trying to breathe through the strange violet force that pressed in on all sides. In seconds, he was outside of Bjarheim, and fell heavily onto the thick grass beyond the fae wall.<br />
<br />
All the Frays except Sannfred and Kari made it through before the fae wall emitted a strange snapping sound. Sannfred yanked his hand away, cursing, and then put his hand on the fae wall again. In another few moments, Kari pushed through, followed by Sannfred himself and three more folk. Then the fae wall snapped once more, leaving a double-handful of other folk trapped inside the city.<br />
<br />
“What about them?” Erik asked, pained to see them left behind.<br />
<br />
“There’ll be someone who can open the hole just as I did. It’s a one-way passage, lets you escape the city even when th’ gate’s closed. No way back in now.” There was a note of melancholy in his voice. Erik tried not to dwell on what it might mean.<br />
<br />
The road west from Bjarheim was packed dirt, and straight as an arrow. The Frays, Erik, and the other three folk set out upon it at once. His feet were starting to hurt, his stomach growled, and his throat felt parched. Kari, stepping close to him for the first time all night—in weeks—offered him her bottle. He drank gratefully, but was careful not to take too much. She said nothing else, though, leaving Erik as perplexed as ever. What in the hells was this? Did she hate him now? Was this about Remy?<br />
<br />
By the time dawn cracked the sky behind them, the road had sloped upward into the Fohrvast, the grassy hills that led to the coast. Sannfred and Gaelle Fray led them all to a ridge that looked out back over the city.<br />
<br />
The sun was just now coming up on the other side of Bjarheim. The city looked so vast and incomprehensible from here, yet so small, nestled among the green fields. Erik saw the towers in the middle of the city: the Cathedral, the ironspeakers’ guild hall, the vast merchant halls and palaces of the wealthy. He watched as the dim malaise that hovered above Bjarheim began to spew forth a roiling miasma of darkness. It left a spreading cloud of black embers floating in the sky, and swooped down onto the city, flowing from house to house faster than any man could run, crawling up and down the towers, tainting them with a hideous, visible decay, like watching the corpse of an animal succumb to flies and maggots, stripped down to its bones. The city was not changed, but the Shadow overlay it like a death shroud, showing the deadness within.<br />
<br />
The city of Bjarheim fell under shadow’s dominion, and Erik Rain could do nothing but scream despair into the ash-choked sky.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>CONTINUED in <a href="http://whenallofasudden.blogspot.com/2013/04/bjarheims-shadow-part-vi.html">Part VI</a></b></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2574944266554866588.post-3892775245215734232013-03-26T21:52:00.002-07:002013-03-26T21:52:30.456-07:00Toothless Child (Slight Delay)The next installment of <i>Bjarheim's Shadow</i> will be a bit late, owing to my son having face-planted onto a brick wall and knocked out a tooth, necessitating an emergency room visit. He's fine, but alas, time was lost.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18380384918048037731noreply@blogger.com0