jmclarke
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Chapter 703: Runed Seekers
🕑 Added 2023-10-25 22:45:21 +0000 UTC“What is this?” the rune-marked scout whispered.
She pushed her hand between two symbol-etched trees, flexing gauntleted fingers. Her arm tingled as she shoved harder, struggling against what seemed to be empty air.
Seemed.
But she knew better. The scout knew with all certainty that the giants’ ward lay within this part of the forest, blocking her kin, denying them what their deity had desired. For many days, the rune-marked had sought this place; but in spite of their efforts, the enchantment had confused them, sending them hunting through the winding pathways of the forest instead.
Woods they knew as well as their own weapons seemed to have turned against them. But they had to keep searching, they’d been commanded by their god to find their prize.
The search had seemed futile, until at last, their fortune had changed, perhaps their god had extended his hand, leading them to this place where trees carved with strange symbols stood.
Their warleader had ordered them to go forward and slay, to take as they always had always. But they found their path blocked; the trees warded against them by old magic.
Giant magic.
No weapon they had on hand could shatter the enchanted trunks, even the air between the trees felt as hard as stone. They tried piercing the barrier, searching for hidden paths to slip through, all to no avail.
The warleader’s rage grew and he turned his anger against the firbolg settlement nearby; their wards were weaker. It was an insult, seeming as though these giants had proclaimed the rune-marked were not the true masters of these woods; that those whose might was infused by blood and battle were less than those who grovelled and worshipped cowardly mountain-gods.
The rune-marked had made the giants pay for their insult. Those attacks would precede the complete slaughter the warriors would soon heap upon the impertinent bastards…or at least that’s how things were supposed to go.
But…
Things had changed.
“Something’s weakened the ward,” the scout whispered, pushing through a space between the trees. The tingling on her skin were now sharp pains; magic stabbed at her, determined to drive her away.
Its bite meant little, only drawing a bloody smile from cracked lips.
“I am rune-marked,” she growled. “Bearer of three runes, soon four.”
Pain gripped her.
She pushed forward.
“I am battle. Pain is nothing!”
Snarling, she planted her feet and heaved against the barrier.
Both pain and barrier faltered.
Then yielded.
“Yesssss,” she hissed, her eyes burning. “The warleader must be told at once. Our prize will be soon in-hand. We will taste victory, and—as the portents promise—our numbers will swell on this day!”
###
“The rune-marked are who I want your help with,” Birger said, tenting his fingers on the table before him. The firelight outlined the giant, giving him a demonic air. “Every few years their god sends them a message that drives them into a frenzy. The ward keeps Bjorgrund from being detected by their magics…most of the time, but sometimes, their god tells them right where we are, and to go and claim him. There’s a warband that’s been skulking around here lately, stalking at the borders of my ward, probing it for weaknesses, then attacking the village.”
“It’s not the first time that’s happened.” Bjorgrund glowered. “And every time, the clan chief gets angrier. He blames us and wants us either dead or gone.”
Birger scoffed. “And he thinks that my power is as endless as the sea, as though my ward could reach out and sheathe the village too. But it takes most of my strength to simply ward the forest around our cottage. And besides, Olaf and the others treat my son like a rabid beast. They deal with real rabid beasts, for all I care. If they beg for forgiveness from me and my son…well then maybe we could talk.”
The young giant looked at his father, rage colouring his face. “Let me go and fight, father. I can fight those rune-marked. I can take their power and kill them. I’m not afraid. I’ll break them until they’re nothing. Then the chief will know I can help the clan; that I’m not some rabid animal, looking to kill everyone. He might even treat us properly, father.”
“Really, Bjorgrund? Is that what you’re thinking? I can fight those rune-marked. I can take their power and kill them. Break them until they’re nothing. Do you think that’s really going to make our kindred comfortable?” Birger asked. “Is violence supposed to calm them down? Don’t overestimate yourself, son. The rune-marked would kill you!”
“No, they would not!” Bjorgrund insisted. “I killed one of their leaders when I was only five!”
“You killed a distracted man with a big rock when he wasn’t looking,” the old firbolg chuckled darkly. “Don’t think yourself so mighty!”
“I am mighty!” Bjorgrund took a step toward his father. “I’ve been training for years. I know how to wield the weapons you used to! I can fight them!”
“You want to fight them, I know you do. But ask yourself this question, son. Is that you talking?” Birger asked. “Or is it the rune?”
Bjorgrund’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His hands balled into fists and his face washed red.
“Thought so,” Birger said. “You might fight one day, but only when I say.”
Alex winced. He knew what it felt like to live with a deity’s interference.
‘You probably don’t like being told what to do,’ the young wizard looked at Bjorgrund.
Their eyes met.
‘If I can help you, I will,’ he thought. ‘The rune’s telling you to do one thing, just like my Mark tries to force me into a role. Your father wants another role for you, just like the church wants for me. But…what do you actually want?’
He studied the young giant, watching the frustration raging within his demeanour, and was reminded of Selina.
She’d also been affected by something she hadn’t wanted. An affinity for fire.
But while he’d rejected his role…Selina had come to accept hers, and even made it her own.
‘Which way will you go?’ Alex thought. ‘Maybe I can help guide you there.’
Birger turned to the young wizard and Theresa. “This is why you must kill those bastards. Make it so that they never trouble us again.”
Alex frowned. “What are the chances of their god marking us? I don’t want that for Theresa, Claygon or Brutus.”
“Low. Very low. In all the centuries I’ve learned about them, I’ve only been aware of their god marking a champion against their will three times. Besides, do you have deities that you worship? That protect you?”
Theresa raised the chain around her neck; a small lantern pendant hung from it. “The Traveller watches over us.”
“The Trave—you mean, Kelda’s friend?” Birger blinked. “She used to talk about her, but we never met. Is she a goddess now?”
“On her way to being one,” Alex smiled. “A lot…has happened. We’ll give you the details over supper.”
“Good…then you should both be safe,” Birger said. “The rune-marked’s god only marks those who haven’t been claimed by another deity. I suppose that goes against its nature. Bjorgrund and I followed, and still follow no deities…so he was vulnerable back then.”
“So you want us to kill these rune-marked so you and Bjorgrund will be safe,” Alex said.
“And so your son doesn’t have to fight, and Chief Olaf doesn’t do anything rash?” Theresa finished.
“You have the crux of it,” Birger said. “Do this for us, and you will have the knowledge I possess.”
“I suppose you don’t know how many there are, since you haven’t seen them, right?”
“I have seen some near the wards, but I can’t say if that was all of them.”
“That’s okay…we’ll be ready for them…” Claygon said.
“Your deal sounds fair then…” Alex said slowly, his eyes falling on the younger giant, then the hearth and woodpile beside it. He fought a smile tugging at his lips. “...by the way, do you have an axe I could use—” He paused. “—or, a hatchet, I guess? Any axe sized for you would definitely be way too tall for someone my height.”
“I do…but why do you need an axe?” the elderly giant looked at him, puzzled.
“I see you’re nearly out of firewood.” Alex nodded to the few split logs sitting beside the hearth. “We brought the venison, but you and Bjorgrund are doing all the cooking and…well, anyone who was a friend of Kelda’s is a friend of mine. I’d like to split some wood for you and—at the same time—get the lay of the land; there might be some good places to ambush the rune-marked near the edges of your ward.”
“Hmmm.” Birger frowned, glancing at the woodpile. “We are low…but it does not sit right with me to have our guest splitting firewood for us.”
“It doesn’t feel right for me to let you host us and not pull my weight,” Alex countered smoothly. “I’ll split some wood and be back in no time for supper; meanwhile, Theresa and Claygon can tell you about our travels and what’s been going on in Thameland. Please, you’ve been very hospitable, but I can’t just let you host us without helping out.”
“Hmmmm, well, if that’s what you want,” Birger said, smiling wanly. “Kelda would have done much the same, and wouldn’t have settled until I let her have her way. I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that the Mark would choose someone similar.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment; Kelda sounded like she was an incredible woman. Now, speaking of finding things, is your woodpile beside the cottage? I didn’t see it when we first got here.”
Birger shook his head. “It’s a little down the path behind the cottage. We keep it a distance away because fishers love to make their dens among the logs and trees trunk around here. No one wants to be tangling with one of them little fiends on the front stoop in a blizzard. Here, let me take over the roast for a time. Bjorgrund, show our guest to the woodpile and help him split some logs. He can use your hatchet.”
The larger giant looked at his father, then at Theresa, Claygon and Brutus.
“You…sure, father? I can come back after I show him the pile,” he offered.
Birger scoffed. “And let a guest do our work? I’d rot before I even touched the grave. Go, I’ll—”
He paused, a frown taking his features.
“Father?” Bjorgrund asked. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s…nothing, but I thought for a moment…no, I must be imagining things. I truly am getting old, I’ll see you when you return, son.”
###
The rune-marked warleader cursed the Irtyshenan knights as he led his warband through the woodland on foot. How he missed his steed. Behind him followed rank upon rank of rune-marked, bearing brutal weapons and scavenged steel armour.
These were ferocious raiders—forged by the forces of battle—their every deed carved into their flesh like badges of honour.
He was filled with pride at the sight of them…and soon, he would have a formidable new member among their ranks. The runes screamed on his flesh, demanding he follow the portents and bring the wayward warrior into the fold.
Soon, that would be done.
The barrier had finally been pierced—he would reward his scout for discovering a crack in its defences—and they were silently making their way deep into the woods. The ward still pushed against them, fighting to drive them back.
But, they would not be denied.
Today, blood would be drawn.
Today, their ranks would grow, as intended.
###
“Do you…ever get used to that?” Bjorgrund asked.
Alex’s hatchet came down, splitting a log. Gathering the pieces, he looked up at the giant who was staring at the Mark of the Fool on his shoulder.
Staying warm from his magical gear, the young wizard had made it a point to remove his cloak and shirt before attacking the mound of wood piled in a shed about twenty paces from the cottage. His staff leaned against the pile, its crystalline blooms glowing softly.
Alex had rightly assumed that the young giant would be curious about his Mark; he would have wagered a purse full of gold that Bjorgrund had never met anyone in a situation similar to his. Alex remembered how Selina had attached to Queen Ishtar; since both possessed a fire affinity.
This young giant was meeting someone who was like himself for the first time…and while curiosity had warred with mistrust within him, curiosity was winning out, for now.
As Alex had hoped.
“It took a long time, to be honest,” the muscular wizard said, picking up another log and standing it on its end. He raised the hatchet, and swung, splitting the log with a single blow. “I had to go to war with it, though.”
“War with it…” Bjorgrund touched the rune over his heart, staring at Alex’s Mark. “Father said that this Kelda woman had to war with hers too. I thought she might have beaten it.”
The giant laid the trunk of a young tree in front of him, raised his axe—one longer than Alex was tall—and brought it down.
The crack of breaking wood echoed through the forest. Panicked birds screeched, fluttering away.
“She tried,” Alex said quietly. “I just wished it could have turned out differently…as for me, I’ve made peace with it. To a certain degree, at least. Right now, my plan is to change it.”
“Only change it? Why? Don’t you want it gone?” Bjorgrund asked, seeming shocked.
“Not completely.” Alex took up another log then cracked it in two. “It’s helped my life a lot in certain ways, to be honest. I just want it to suit my needs better; when life marks us, we have three choices. We can give in to it completely, we can fight it, or we can change it and make it work for us. Sometimes, the Mark really helps me. I just want it to help me more and not hinder me. Does your rune help you?”
The giant looked troubled. “All it does is make me want to fight.”
“And do you?” Alex said.
“Do what?”
“Want to fight?”
“I just said, the rune makes me—”
“No, I get that part. But what do you want? Do you want to go along with the rune? Do you want to fight with it or get rid of it? Or do you want to make it work for you?”
Bjorgrund gave Alex a stricken look, then glanced at the cottage.
The young wizard raised a hand. “If that’s too personal, I’m sor—”
A whizzing sound cut through the trees.
“Get down!” Alex cried, leaning back.
A barbed arrow split the air inches from his nose, embedding in a tree trunk.
Red runes flashed along its shaft.
The arrow exploded.
###
Author's Note
Hello thirty-five cool fools, almighty chosen, wise sages, and mighty champions! Thank you for your support!
I always wanted to use the rune-marked as an opportunity to give Alex the other perspective...to be almost the mentor to someone through a similar situation like himself. :)
...the person involved is a giant with a berserker rune because, well... *looks at Claygon and Grimloch* I'M ME.
Lol, cya tomorrow!
Comments
George R
Thanks for the chapter
Grond (James)
Minor note. Alex says, "to be honest" twice to the giant. It felt repetitive
