by Philip Read
All the newly Awakened do is fight and fuck. They hardly even eat, now needing physical sustenance less often than regular people.
“So where are we going?” I ask as the wolf leads the way. Walking on the grass path on the road made for the hoofed fae to walk comfortably and so horses can gallop with less risk of slipping on the ston paved path.
“I usually just follow Fenrir wherever his nose takes him.”
I grunt. The hermit always liked to walk, must be something about being blind but I really don’t mind that either, I like watching the city grow, or even joining some of the work teams as most of the young people that want houses do.
*
Gorr the Hermit
I look at the young man beside with whatever sense I use to see these days. I still have no word for it nor have I spoken much to the fae about it. I don’t trust such beautiful creatures and the talk among the people is that they are deadly. I wish I could have witnessed this Never-Ending Battle the other Awakened speak so proudly of.
We pass by a dwarven store that sells clothing, I whistle to let Fenrir know I’m checking it out as I walk in followed closely by Om.
The moment I walk in I know where everything within 21 yards of me is, I know the texture of everything within 16 feet of me, and I know the colour, taste and effect of everything within a foot of me.
I walk through the store and forestall the dwarf storekeeper from talking with a raised hand. I know she didn’t make most of these items.
There is a fae seamstress out in the city somewhere who finds it beneath herself to sell her wares but enjoys sewing. Using the dwarf as a proxy, not for profit though the prices are exorbitant, but the pleasure of seeing her work on display maybe.
I walk around once more, touching a few things to confirm what I already know. Yes, this is the same work as my hooded cloak. The magic woven into the clothes is subtle, but she does a little magic to everything she sews. Om is looking at me as though I’ve gone mad, I grin knowing he can’t see my face. My fellow tribesmen find me strange, they are still mostly wearing furs or wearing boots, a kilt and nothing else. Clothing has always been optional among the tribes. And mostly I am the same, but my new ‘sight’ has made me aware of many things I would have normally overlooked. Seeing beauty even if I can’t fully understand or appreciate it.
I lift the hood from my face and remove my sash from my eyes. Opening them slowly as they adjust to the magic around them. Everything is on fire. The entire world is on fire, smouldering slightly as it gives of mists, auras, mana, magic, feelings, shapes, sizes, secrets, light.
I see everything and it’s overwhelming, but I focus my eyes on the dwarf standing stock still before me. Seeing her, in a way that amazes me and terrifies me. Whatever I’ve Awakened as I’m no longer primarily a warrior, I ‘see’ how limited the path of a warrior actually is and I pity my people the injustice that was done to us. The curse that was placed upon us so long ago that has crippled us as a people. Limiting us forever to be no more than what we currently are, warriors. The saddest part is that we are completely oblivious to how… reined we are.
“Will the seamstress see me yet?” I ask smoothly, politely, keeping my uncanny eyes on her.
She swallows, trying to look away but unable to. Fascinated by whatever she sees. The thing about seeing too much, most things see me as well. So when I look into a person deeply enough they can look just as deeply into me. I’ve already been noticed by a few things I would rather stayed oblivious of me.
“Ahh… The artis-, I mean the artist wishes to stay anonymous. Yes, sorry again sir. I ah… if you would like to buy… err… that is. She has some wares she thought you might like.”
“She is aware of my interest?” I ask.
“Oh yes! Most definitely sir. You are the first of your people to truly appreciate the value of her art.”
“No doubt when the others start noticing prices will be getting higher and I will already be a valued customer, receiving the best of prices,” I say, looking away. My eyes catching Om, whose mouth gapes open and a shiver runs up my spine as I look into his eyes.
This boy could become a world-breaker. A thought that comes unbidden into my mind as though I understand subconsciously some of what I’m seeing. His limits are much much higher than the rest of ours are. I close my eyes and blind my eyes with the sash again.
“Tell the seamstress that as soon as I can afford other items from your lovely store good dwarf, I will avail myself to you. But I would rather meet with her in person before making such a purchase again.” I say walking out.
Finding Fenrir at the door waiting for my exit. He is up and about as soon as he smells me, exploring once more.
Paradisum is a very interesting city. Not solely dedicated to humans but accommodating to nature to such an extent that the animals are at ease within it.
The fae designers have truly found a perfect balance that even Gaia and her fickle nature seem to have acknowledged. The perfect balance between human civilisation and Gaia’s Nature.
Chapter 4
Om
I follow the hermit out of the store looking at the sweating dwarf one last time from the door with sympathy. I understand completely, the hermit has very strange eyes, very deep strange eyes that you fall into as soon as they are set upon you. I shiver, my body trying to dispelled the unfathomable depth into which it seemingly plunged.
I walk a few paces behind the now hooded and blindfolded hermit. I now truly believe him when he says he sees too much with his uncanny eyes. Completely white without a speck of an iris or blood vessels let alone a pupil. I think I can go as far as to call them milky and slightly luminous, very strange but not the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. Not with the hoofed or horned fae around. The strangest thing is that as soon as he looked at me I couldn’t move, I was caught as I seemed to fall headlong into deep darkness. A deep darkness that is a presence in and of itself. Some people might imagine darkness as empty but where ever I was was full of a present darkness. I shake it off and look at his back.
There are people in the streets and the sun is shining, birds chirpping their mating calls beautifully. There are children chasing a wild hare with javelins through the grass between the trees. There actually is some wild life in the city in the form of wolves and some deer that have Awakened and become confident enough in their power to test the call of the fae for hos[itality in Paradisum however it is they do that. There is the sound of heavy construction carried by the wind from somewhere, a sound that is a constance in the growing city and has just become part of the ambience.
The hooded cloak the hermit is wearing doesn’t seem all that expensive when I look at it. It is well made, it’s suede so its soft, it has that weird effect of keeping the face hooded in shadow. Its long enough that it falls at his feet and trails like a train at the back.
Come to think of it, it should be leaving a trail on the ground shouldn’t it? It looks like it can close at the front but he wears it open revealing a normal Norse tunic underneath. It looks stupid to me. Why buy a cloak that doesn’t protect from the cold? And from the talk with the storekeeper I deduced that it is expensive.
Not that I imagine the old hermit has much wealth but I think all the Awakened were assigned an allowance or something. He probably has a hoard buried somewhere as well. The man walks slowly, seemingly taking everything in. Occasionally moving closer to a horse or a person or a house but otherwise not even turning his head to look around, I definitely get the impression he knows where I am at all times.
It seems the hermit no long needs eyes to navigate. The wolf is another strange creature and seems to be definitely Awakened by the intelligence and curiosity its displaying. Paradisum is being built as both a type of reserve and a city. Teeming with plant life I have never even heard off before, and some animals hemmed in certain areas being fattened for the slaughter.
A lazy way to hunt if you ask me, but their meat is definitely more tender, fatter. Its sad t
o take a majestic animal from the wild and keep it in an enclosure though. Even as beautiful and spacious as the fae make these enclosures now known as kraals.
They are almost identical to the greenhouses with constant conditions ideal for whatever is kept there. And enough space for the creatures to exercise and ‘hunt’ the feed and plants place into the kraals for them. Some kraals being entire domes with transparent roofs, others open to the elements depending on the animal stock’s best development.
The wolf walks into such an enclosure without a care, ignoring the fae attend in charge. We follow it in and it does the most unwolf like thing. It watches the slow fat animals, moving around them as though they are a curiosity. That alone convinces me it’s Awakened.
“According to the fae the animals kept this way have no history of ever Awakening.” The hermit suddenly says without turning his head.
“I didn’t know that.” I say looking around. They do look like dumb animals. There are two kinds here, a slow smaller version of a buffalo and species of rabbit I’m unfamiliar with.
“This still seems unnatural.” I say as we move between the trees and tall grass. Grass planted for the ‘cows’ specifically for it’s nutritional value.
“How do they keep rabbit snakes out?” I ask. The Tundra is full of rabbits, and thus full of hawks, owls, griffins, griffin-owls and the snakes that prey on the little rodents.
“They don’t. They like the challenge a few snakes provide to each habitat, there is a nest a few feet to your left in a hole behind that rock.” He says without even looking causing me, a person that has both working eyes to look around paranoid. Though rabbit snake venom doesn’t kill, it does cause persistent numbness that is very annoying.
“Eventually the snakes will become food as well. Most of them anyways, the most likely to Awaken in a few hundred years are let out.”
“How can they even tell something like that?”
He shrugs. “They can probably see it.” Is all the old hermit says as we follows his wolf around. I’m usually a very observant person, and I like watching people. Making me a somewhat good judge of character I think.
But the hermit has changed, a weight seems to have been lifted off him. He seems happier, looser and more eager to live his life. Yet at the same instant he seems slower to consider things, walking slowly, reaching out his hand to tickle the leaves of a tree as though he were a tree loving fae. It’s unsettling from a person I’ve known all my life.
We eventually leave the kraal habitat and walk towards the Jotnar district. This place I haven’t visited much beyond the long-houses communal area. The first most immediate change is the flora. The trees are different, the grass is slightly different, the shrubs and bushes that separate one house from another are different here.
Most of the male Jotnar walking around are the normal Barbarians. But here and there I see a few with a slightly bluer skin tone, slightly broader shoulders, or wider more curvey hips for the girls. Children slightly taller than the rest of their play mates.
“Hello.” The hermit surprises me by greeting a girl and her mother.
Both very beautiful, strong looking and armed as everyone in Paradisum is armed. I walk closer and stand at his shoulder as he looks from mother to daughter.
They both grin at us, all teeth and attitude. These women have a reputation even among other tribeswoman. As tall and as strong as men, beautiful beyond what is natural and viscous warriors are Jotnar women.
“Are you lost Norsemen?”
The older one asks looking for a fight. Barbarians are always looking for a good fight but with the Sandies at our doorstep priority goes to them. But things have been quiet lately, with only light skirmishes and ambushes of patrols.
“No actually, we just find the two of you very beautiful. I am Gorr, this here is my friend Om.” He says gesturing to me. I grunt in reply.
Inwardly cursing the old man for starting this yet already loosening my shoulders. I notice the wolf watching from a distance before moving away again. Stupid animal.
“Mhmmm.. I have heard that the Norse were on the decline. Surely a friendly brawl with help-”
“My thought exactly.” The hermit interrupts throwing a punch on the older woman’s face. He connects solidly taking her off her feet before taking a step back.
The younger one moves in towards him but he uses me as shield, moving behind me. I deflect her fist as she strikes solidly. Connecting with a foot to the side of the knee collapsing her left leg and bringing her up with a right hook to the cheek. Something hard rings my head, I stumble back a step and block the next punch from the older woman on my forearms.
She hits very hard and she is faster, preventing me from attacking but not getting through my guard. I dodge right as the daughter goes for my ribs. Spinning and leading with an elbow that’s stopped cold as I receive a kick to the kidneys. Where is the old fool that started all this?
I deflect the next two strikes from both opponent’s, surprising myself with the burst of speed without going into the berserker Rage but I only have two arms. And the third strike rings my bell again. This time from the younger woman , I grin, admiring that strike and dogging the next from her mother and head-butting the follow up punch.
I here the wrist dislocate as she strikes my forehead with the combined momentum of my headbutt and her fast fist. The fight continues though as two punches dig into my ribs as I wrestle the younger one down. I’m hesitant to use my most debilitating moves but reconsider when a knee finds my groin.
I go down as a fist meets me halfway bringing me back up. I stumble back a step, blood spraying from my nose. The girl is at the edge of the Rage, the older woman grinning like she is having the time of her life as she moves in for another attack. I stand my ground solidly and deflect strike after strike after strike. She trying to crowd me with her moment and speed.
But her momentum brings her up against an immoveable wall as I deflect with power. Bruising her with the force of my deflection, not allowing all that energy to be sent away but more blocking than deflecting. I take a step forward, a slight step, a barely perceptible step to the crowd of on lookers.
But between her and I, she knows I’ve just gained the upper hand. Even as she strikes me faster, some even getting through and finding my pecks or ribs, she is on the back foot. I take another step and she grits her teeth as I crowd her, preventing her strikes from getting momentum. Tapping her now and again on the arms and ribs with my open palm.
She eventually jumps back, conceding the gained ground to the confusion of her daughter who seems to have finally controlled herself, admirable. It isn’t easy pulling back the Rage, especially not when you have an injury.
She gets ready to move in when the Hermit steps in front of me. “I think I’ve seen enough Om, how about you let me finish this quickly so we can talk with these lovely ladies.”
I spit the blood from my mouth. “Be my guest.” I say moving back.
The older woman grins, the younger frowns, then scowls. Attaching fast and hard, the hermit dodges, deflects and somehow twists the girl’s shoulder out of socket and hits her somewhere in the head and she drops like a rock. All with one arm, while the other holds his ever present staff.
The older woman’s grin widens and her eyes sparkle excitedly as she moves in. But she is more careful, probing. The hermit deflects a few blows then moves in a strange way, seemingly back and to the left but the woman is somehow drawn to him. He moves forward suddenly and has her in a choke hold, whispering something to her as she struggles.
As she passes out the small crowd claps, passing the newly minted coins around. I sigh silently noticing that the hood never left his head.
“Sorry about that.” He says as he dusts himself and we start walking again.
“I saw something in them.”
I grunt in response. That could mean anything with this man. Did he actually physically see anything or is it a spiritual power? Is it an ability? I’m not even sur
e he has the blindfold on with that hood hiding most of his face. I can only see a darkness within his hood that seems like it will fade at any moment.
We follow the wolf around the Jotnar district, skirting around other challenges and eventually heading to the long-house as day turns to dusk. The are ten hours of dusk before night falls and I’ve spent hours with this man already. I don’t even know whether or not he has agreed to teach me anything yet.
I don’t even know if he can or not.
Chapter 5
Om
“So what did you say to her?” I finally ask after my second tankard of dwarven ale.
Though the long-houses are predominantly occupied by the different tribesmen a spatter of dwarves and a few Highlanders can be spotted around the area. A few dwarves tried making a type of tavern and charging for ale and accommodation. An inn I think they called the buildings they built by the south and north gates. A large house with a big receiving hall with tables chairs and a few booths along the walls. Two floors of rooms above the ‘common room’, five rooms per floor and a latrine on each floor. I’ve seen the design, supposedly built to house guests. Guests that have to pay to be accommodated for food and for a drink.
Not a single barbarian goes there. We all still go to the long-houses regardless of districts. Here you get a conversation, a good fight if you want one, a dry spot to sleep, free mead or ale, and sometimes even a nice woman to cuddle up to. All without paying.
At least this much we haven’t lost. I’m grateful to whoever insisted these long-houses be built. The inns do still get business though, mostly from dwarves and the new highlanders in town. There are currently only two such establishments though, and they have become a great way to distinguish between anyone that is new to Paradisum who isn’t a tribesman.
A few spies have tried to infiltrate the city with the Seers mostly preoccupied. Something we as a people have never actually had to worry about before. None caught have been killed so far but they aren’t comfortable either. Killing a person outside of combat is just a waste, and a concept we as a people are not very comfortable with. Intellectually I can understand the need to kill troublemakers but such people are usually challenged and killed not tied down and their head chopped off. Even the Savages are more human than that, at least putting a blade in the hands of anyone that causes trouble, giving them a chance of walking away with their lives.