Asgard Awakening

by Blaise Corvin

  Narnaste continued to bleed out as Trav huffed, his muscles cramping, limbs burning, but he didn’t dare to stop, not even to shift his burdens. He’d made the decision not to leave Narnaste behind; now he just had to endure the pain, much like he had before in the mines.

  Chapter 12

  There was no mistaking the situation—Narnaste was dying. Trav crouched next to the wounded Kin woman lying on the forest floor. He wasn’t sure where they were and didn’t know if it had been safe to stop, but he’d run a good distance away from the mouth of the cave he’d burst out of. Continuing had seemed risky since the lupine woman had lost so much blood.

  The tall man felt exhausted, and Narnaste obviously didn’t have much time left. Trav had a decision to make.

  He twisted the heavy ring around on his finger, breathing heavily, running through what he knew...and what he didn’t. If Narnaste was anything like a human physically, normal medical supplies probably wouldn’t save her at this point. She’d been stabbed at least twice and had bled out quite a bit. Luckily, she’d managed to clamp a hand over the wound in her side at some point before, but she was only half conscious at this point, and the only thing that had kept her alive had been clotted blood in her clothing.

  Trav didn’t have any serious medical supplies to begin with, so mundane medical action was not a real possibility.

  The only other options he had were mystical, and there was only one thing he knew he could do. If Trav put his brand on the Kin, a divine mark, it would form the last of three seals that he’d begun with his initial rune equations binding them together. However, to accomplish this, he would need to imbue his blank ring with a divine rune, one he would need to create and claim for himself. This would require completely accepting Odin’s legacy, and going all-in as a demigod, or god-hopeful, or whatever he would be.

  Trav didn’t have many logical reasons to hesitate—Odin’s help had been the only reason he’d realistically survived until now. However, deep down, he felt like if he accepted the mantle of power, it would be like accepting Asgard, and the fact that he would probably never get to see Earth again. His slavery was something he would never be inclined to forget—or forgive.

  Of course, he could just let her die too, but that didn’t seem right. As Trav watched the Kin woman bleed out and suffer, he kicked himself, angry that he was letting emotion get in the way of what he knew he should do.

  Narnaste may be Kin, and Trav may not entirely trust her, but she had been wounded while fighting at his side, and that mattered to him. He went back and forth with himself several times, but ultimately, the urgency of the situation coupled with his frustration with himself finally led him to grumble a few curses and act.

  He drew his crude shiv and paused, frowning. There was definitely a new current of magic in it, something he didn’t feel was dangerous, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He shrugged, dismissing it. If he sat around all day staring at his shoddy dagger, Narnaste was going to die. Staying distracted for too long so close to the Kin mines like this, he might also get ambushed by a troll or finished off by some new patrol.

  Trav took off his ring and centered himself, emptying his mind of anything else. Then he thought of his life, running through everything he’d done before his captivity on Asgard, and then everything he’d done as a slave. He remembered Beth’s smile. Holding everything that made him who he was firmly in his mind, he also thought about what he believed, what mattered to him. With every bit of concentration he had focused on his self-identity, he touched the tip of his shiv to the ring. After he’d made contact, he ran a bit of his energy through the tool he’d created, having already imbued it with some of his essence. Then after a deep breath, he willed himself into the ring.

  A bright but small light flashed at the contact point, and Trav quickly buried the ring in the dirt with at least a hand of soil on top of it.

  He hoped the insulation of the soil would help mask the mystical mojo of what was happening. Kin probably couldn’t feel anything, but any Restless out there would probably be able to sense it like a signal flare. The man from Earth frowned at that thought. Odin had obviously been extremely paranoid, but in general, Trav approved of cautiousness—it was the unfamiliar name that had made him pause.

  The Restless, a name Odin had given the gods, encompassed more than just the Aesir and Vanir pantheons. The Kin called them High Masters, but Trav felt glimpses of new, related, hidden knowledge at the edge of his mind. All he really knew right now was that there was a lot more to the Restless that he didn’t know yet, and maybe he’d be able to understand later.

  Right now he had a dying Kin woman to save.

  Trav stared at the spot of ground where he’d buried the ring and eventually shook his head, digging it up. Soil could cover some mystic power, but what had just happened with the ring was like the magical equivalent of a nuclear blast with resulting supernatural fallout. Any Restless in the galaxy had probably felt it, so a little bit of dirt wasn’t going to do much. Trav’s divine senses were crude, much weaker than he knew they could probably get in time, but the energy and buzzing coming from the ring made his teeth vibrate.

  He gingerly reached down to pick up the ring and whistled soundlessly as he turned it over to see what the magic had done. The entire band had been deeply etched with complex runes, and on the front, a stylized wolf stood flanked with two arcane symbols, interlocking runes formed of tiny glyphs.

  A wolf huh? Trav wondered. With a bit of nervousness, he placed the ring onto his finger and lights exploded behind his eyes. He let out a grunt, feeling like he’d just been kicked in the gut, but he endured it, and slowly, awkwardly invested a small bit of his magic power into the ring. As soon as he had, the power bounced back into his body, and he became fully connected with the completed ring. Now the pieces of metal formed a physical representation of his power and authority, such as they were.

  The creation of the ring hadn’t really been something he’d done, more like something he’d let happen. Symbols of authority were a birthright of the Restless, something they knew instinctively how to create and would be imbued with their unique essence to enact very unique, dangerous magic.

  And now Trav was one of them.

  Oh joy, he thought—the implications of becoming a god, or Restless, or magical alien, or whatever he was now definitely compelled a mind fuck that would keep him awake at night. He vowed not to let it go to his head, though. All of Odin’s power hadn’t prevented the wily old god from dying. Remembering that fact would always be sobering.

  Finally, the huge, ridiculous, flashing neon sign of what he’d done began to fade from the ether, and Trav breathed a sigh of relief. If anyone had been paying attention or was even half asleep, they’d probably just seen it.

  Trav bent down to Narnaste and felt her forehead, clucking his tongue. What he was about to do was going to hurt both of them—a lot. He hoped she stayed alive, or he’d be risking a lot for nothing.

  One of the Kin woman’s wounds opened again, sluggishly soaking the area around it with blood as Trav turned her over. He winced in sympathy, but he had already chosen where the mark had to go. Besides, Narnaste was going to die anyway. What he was doing would give her a chance to live, but he didn’t have a lot of time, so he couldn’t afford to be delicate.

  Finally, he got the firm-bodied Kin female on her stomach, and pulled her clothing aside, baring her lower back. Her bloody tail kept getting in the way, so he eventually just moved it under one of her legs. “Stay,” he said gruffly.

  Then he winced and gingerly lowered his god ring to touch Narnaste’s lower back. “This is going to be a tramp stamp from hell,” he muttered. He sucked in his teeth, counting down from three before channeling power and some of his essence through the ring.

  Trav had known that creating the mark would be dangerous—he was too new to his power. Having more magical power would have shielded him from the backlash, but the actual energy powering that he was trying to do went
deeper, down to his purview, where his authority would come from if he were a full-blown god. Even though he didn’t have access to that well of energy yet, he was still connected to it through Odin’s mantle. The memories in his head had let him know to expect indescribable pain, so that part wasn’t surprising—but the sheer amount of it was almost too much to tolerate.

  Stealth be damned, Trav screamed as every nerve in his body lit up in agony. His bones felt like they were breaking, and his eyes like they were boiling out of his head. Trav tasted blood in his mouth.

  Through his haze of pain, he held onto consciousness just long enough to continue channeling the divine power running through his body. He thought he saw Narnaste stir as the world faded into darkness.

  ***

  When Trav woke, he was in a shelter of some kind; a thin membrane stretched overhead. He surprisingly felt fine but had a feeling that a few days ago, what he’d just been through would have killed him. After studying his surroundings, he realized that his spear and shiv had been laid on the ground next to him, both blades covered in rags to keep them safe.

  Now that Trav was conscious and rested, he cast about with his senses and didn’t notice anything amiss. The logical thing to do would be to exit the tent he was in—now he recognized it as part of the travel kit he’d gotten from the memory shrine—but the shiv drew his attention.

  He touched it and felt the strange current of magic in it again, one he hadn’t ever placed there. The tall man frowned as he tried to figure out what it meant, but the front of the tent suddenly split, opened by Narnaste.

  She wore a thin towel and nothing else. Clean again since the first time Trav had seen her, he admired her as she bent her way into the tent. Her imperfections and scars all accentuated her inhuman beauty. Trav still felt a bit strange about his attraction to her—most Kin had repelled him in the past—but he accepted it. After discovering a new kink or turn on, beating himself up about it wouldn’t change the attraction.

  Narnaste fully entered the tent and closed the flap, then she turned and fidgeted. Her damp hair hung around her shoulders and made it obvious she’d just bathed. Now that Trav thought about it, he realized he’d been cleaned too. Interesting.

  “Where are we?” Trav asked.

  “Far away from the caves...far away,” said Narnaste.

  “How did we get here? You were almost dead last I remember.”

  “Yes, you healed me and changed me. You blessed me. I don’t know how to thank you. With my new power, I carried you all this distance, and I have been making camp ever since, cleaning us and washing our bloody clothes.”

  Trav glanced under his thin blanket and verified he was, in fact, naked, which made sense. He lay back down and stared at the roof of the tent. His choice to place a divine mark had already been made, but now he was worried about what he’d done. If any Restless had been nearby, they would have felt it. Hopefully, if they had been on other planets, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the source right away. Actually, hopefully they were all dead. That would definitely make matters simpler. Trav felt somewhat amused to know that Odin would have thought exactly the same thing.

  Narnaste began fidgeting more, and her gaze went to his face before darting back down. Trav frowned and reached up and touched his cheek, his eyebrows going up at what he felt. “You trimmed my beard,” he said, stating it as a fact.

  “Yes, Master,” said Narnaste. “You are a High Master; you should look as impressive as you are. If you must punish me for my arrogance, I am prepared to accept it.”

  Trav’s eye twitched, and he wondered, What kind of fucked up culture do these people have? No, not people. Kin. Monsters. That’s right. Then he amended his thoughts, reminding himself of human history and various religions. Actually, Narnaste’s reaction made sense—Trav was the strange one on Asgard. He decided to ignore the beard for now—after all, he would have fixed it given a chance anyway; he just didn’t know how he felt about Narnaste messing with his face while he slept. Instead, he asked, “Are you washing our clothes?”

  “Yes, my soiled set was also almost ruined when I was changed. I will need to mend them.”

  “When you what?”

  “You saved me and changed me. I—I—” Narnaste’s voice broke, and she flung herself forward, prostrating herself. The towel she wore slipped off, and Trav got a good look at the mark he’d placed on her—a black wolf flanked by sigils on her lower back. The view was nice, but he still had some thinking to do, and the Kin woman’s figure was making his head fuzzy.

  He looked up again and thought about the mark, and about what he’d actually done. Some of his knowledge was still hidden, but he’d effectively claimed Narnaste, made her part of his...people. Odin had probably been capable of creating dozens of divine marks like the one above Narnaste’s ass. However, Trav sensed he was only capable of making between five to ten, and each one would be riskier than the last. Each mark, each claiming, drew on his soul. If he ever failed, it would destroy him.

  Fun.

  “How long was I out?” asked Trav.

  “About half a day. It is currently morning,” mumbled the Kin woman. Her tail swished, and Trav scratched his head before he could help himself and grinned. Kin or not, Narnaste could be very sexy. Her fierce appearance and attitude seemed deeply at odds with how she acted when her guard was down.

  “Stop cowering, Narnaste. Raise your head.”

  “Yes, Master.” The wolf woman slowly rose, the towel falling off the rest of the way. Her shy demeanor slowly faded as she raised her eyes and her face lost all emotion. Trav still noticed her ear and tail twitching, though. Her tone formal, she said, “Master, you saved me. Even if I didn’t bear your energy now, even if you were not a High Master, I would be compelled to follow you through honor. I am yours to command.”

  “I accept that,” said Trav slowly. He didn’t know what to make of the woman’s sudden proclamation, and her nudity was making him wonder where to look. Finally, he just decided to be frank and looked her up and down in appreciation.

  “Master, I wish to serve you,” said Narnaste and bit her lower lip.

  “You what?” Trav blinked. “What do you mean?”

  The Kin woman moved forward on her hands and knees, eyes full of heat, and her tail wagging faster. Trav quickly learned what had been on the wolf woman’s mind, and how she’d wanted to serve him.

  Chapter 13

  “This is probably going to be a good day for traveling,” said Trav.

  “I agree, Master.” Narnaste placed the last few items from last night’s camp in their special pack.

  “How much longer do we have to travel to this village of yours?”

  “Before, it would be two weeks, maybe three depending on weather and speed of travel. Now, I have no idea.”

  “That’s fair,” said Trav as he checked his weapons. It wasn’t like they had to walk now after all, or at least he didn’t. The previous day of travel had been eye-opening.

  He turned just in time to see Narnaste transform, and it still made his scalp prickle. As the Kin woman began to glow, Trav wondered if he would ever get used to this new ability. They hadn’t talked much the day before, mainly focusing on getting the hell away from the mines, but the divine mark that Trav had placed on her had made Narnaste stronger, faster, and more resilient.

  She’d acquired some instinctive insights into Trav’s power, like the fact that she would get stronger as he did now.

  And lastly, she could get huge.

  The transformation complete, Trav looked up into the yellow eyes of a giant, red-furred, eight-legged wolf. “Are you ready, Master?” asked the creature, and Trav mutely nodded.

  He asked, “Where do the pack and your clothes and stuff go?”

  “I don’t know, Master. I can still sense them, sort of. They are here but not here.”

  “Oh, alright. That makes everything extremely clear.”

  “Good. Would you like to mount me, Master?”

&n
bsp; Trav decided not to explain his sarcasm, nor acknowledge the double entendre. It wasn’t wise to anger a wolf with the jaws of a T-Rex, nor rile up a Kin woman who seemed likely to jump him any time she could.

  He was beginning to understand Narnaste better now. She had lived a very regimented, romance-free life before meeting him. Now that she’d found a real High Master, her situation, religion, and honor were all giving her the go-ahead to be as uninhibited as she wanted. The fact that she legitimately seemed to like and respect him and the fact that he didn’t quite smell human anymore hadn’t hurt anything.

  With a bemused shake of the head, Trav grabbed big handfuls of fur and hauled himself up the side of the massive wolf. He had talked a little bit with her about her transformation already, and its somewhat mind-bending implications. They both agreed that Trav’s power truly was connected to Odin’s mantle, at least the things he did that directly drew from it. There was no other explanation for Narnaste’s new form. Trav had reasoned that Odin had probably marked animals first in his life, not Kin, hence his animal companions in legends.

  However, the mark also could create Odin’s personal warriors, Valkyries. The old god had never created anything like Narnaste before, Trav was sure. Her new form was strange enough that if any Restless came chasing the giant, magical signal Trav had created, they might be able to follow easier now. The thought was worrying.

  But now Narnaste was effectively Trav’s mount and his first bonded warrior. She was truly a part of his new journey now, body and soul. If her transformation hadn’t saved her life, and she hadn’t been enthusiastic about the whole thing, Trav might have felt a little guilty. But now as she began loping along, taking joy in her huge body and easy movement, he just smiled.

  Maybe becoming a god wouldn’t be so bad after all.