That reminded him of the tense explanations he’d given Narnaste the previous day. For someone who called herself Faithful and thought of Trav as a High Master, she could be awfully set on getting her own way sometimes—and seemingly jealous. She hadn’t trusted Yaakova and had been very vocal about this fact. Trav had hardly been in a place to tell her he agreed with her about the other woman when the harpy was standing right there.
What a mess.
Yaakova’s joy with flight seemed to be genuine. She’d turned into a raven the size of a hawk multiple times, even landing on Trav’s shoulder once. Of course, once she’d become a Kin woman again, she and Narnaste had begun trading veiled barbs. Trav had wanted to tell them that after almost being killed by a flesh golem, all other nonsense should be avoided for the time being, but he’d just been too tired.
His companions would have to wait. Trav still didn’t know exactly what kind of status he wanted to cultivate with his new Valkyries. He didn’t have any answers on that front, and they were still sleeping, so for now, he’d find out about the emberstone box and its mysterious prisoner.
The box itself had been placed outside of camp—the two Kin women had insisted. They hadn’t expressly said so, but the emberstone obviously freaked them out. Not much really scared Kin, but emberstone was apparently nasty stuff to everyone except Trav.
He approached the box and thought about just talking to it, but that felt awkward. He didn’t want to wake up the two Kin, nor be seen talking to himself. He shook his head—it felt weird of think of those two as his Valkyries.
After considering the situation for a second, he picked up the emberstone box and walked a few minutes upstream from camp. He found a good place to sit, propped his spear against a tree, set the box down, and sat. With a small sigh, he rested his chin in his hand. Figuring out all of his runic magic options concerning the box, if any, would probably take some time. His mind felt like it’d been expanding lately, and he decided to test it. Maybe he could comb through his magic knowledge or delve for more while having a…chat.
“Can you hear me?” Speaking the question out loud with nobody there felt strange.
Yes, I can hear you. I have stayed silent, hoping you would talk to me. If you hadn’t taken me, I’d be buried right now, wouldn’t I?
“Yeah, that’s right.”
You saved me twice then.
Trav nodded. “More like three times, but who’s counting?” He cleared his throat. “I saw how the gate was draining you. Anyway, why don’t you tell me who you are and fill me in on your situation, so I can figure out what to do with you.”
I don’t know where to start.
“How about with your name?”
After a pause the voice continued again, starting slowly but picking up to a normal cadence. My name is Ysintrill. I was once known as a hero, a warrior, and before that, I was an apprentice apothecary on another world.
“Another world?”
Yes. A long time ago, on my world, there was a war. A magician, a friend of my father’s, tried sending me to safety when our town was about to be overrun. Instead, I found myself here.
“On Asgard?”
Correct. I was young when I got here. That was during the age that the gods of Asgard walked the land. Great adventures and explorations were common. My skill in medicines secured me positions on several exploratory teams, and a mercenary company. I discovered a small talent in runecraft as well, augmenting this world’s magic with mysteries from my homeworld.
“Runes? What do you mean?” The disembodied voice had Trav’s full attention now.
I never told a soul, but my homeworld had similar magic to Asgard’s rune power. When I was an apothecary, I read a few books on the subject, and still remembered a few of the symbols. In Asgard, using them with what I learned or rune magic allowed me to grow in power. With the fighting skills I learned, I became a formidable warrior.
“Most magic from other veils doesn’t work here, though, right?” That bit of knowledge seemed to be common sense, both after talking to Narnaste and based on what Trav could glean from his alien memories.
My knowledge allowed me to compete on the same level of those who would otherwise be beyond me.
The quiet confidence in Ysintrill’s disembodied voice filled Trav with certainty that she was telling the truth.
“So what happened on Asgard?”
My friends and my family were betrayed. We fought bravely, but we were defeated. My betrothed was the first to perish. I was about to die and lay bleeding on the frozen ground when Sigrun appeared to me. The Valkyrie stared at me for a while before clucking her tongue. It turned out that she had a soft spot for female warriors, but since I was not born of this world, and I was a woman, there was not much she could do for me.
I was offered a choice to become a disir, and I took it. After that, my time as a human woman ended, but I remained alive, exploring this land.
“A disir?” Trav vaguely recalled the word, and Odin’s memories helped fill in the gaps. A disir was a type of spirit, but there were dozens, if not hundreds of different types. “What kind?”
I was never truly sure. Some I encountered after that were frightened by my appearance, but others were merely curious. A few humans mistook me as an aelf. Eventually, I settled into a grove and made it my home. Over many years, travelers and heroes came to visit my home, searching for blessings. I was content, until one day I was visited by powerful visitors who meant me harm.
“What happened?”
My memories at this point are unsure, so I cannot rightly say. Whatever they did put me in this box, though. Since then, I have been trapped in the place you found me, tied to the veil gate.
“How long were you there?” Trav felt some sympathy again. Ysintrill had been a slave just like he had.
I had no way to note the passing of times. It was many years. I mostly focused on ignoring the veil gate. Sometimes, something awful would look through. I got the feeling it was always checking the wards around the gate to see if they’d weakened.
“Probably.”
Now will y—
“Be quiet, please,” muttered Trav, not unkindly. “I am thinking about what to do with you.”
Understood.
Eventually, the way that Trav had dealt with the flesh golem gave him an idea of what to do. With an unbinding circle, which was simple in theory but actually a fairly complex rune working, maybe he could just reverse what had been done to the girl in the box. It seemed she’d been turned into some sort of mystical battery.
“I think I can free you.” He stood up and grabbed the box, heading back to camp.
You can? Ysintrill sounded like she was suppressing her excitement, trying to temper expectations.
“There is a high chance, yes.”
Will you do so?
“Probably, but I want to know what I get out of this deal.” Trav’s days of wide-eyed innocence were over. If he was planning to do someone a favor, he might as well get some sort of boon from it. It was still strange that the box itself had called so strongly to his divine mantle. Maybe Ysintrill had been imprisoned by another Restless. At this point, it seemed likely.
But if so, why had the dark veil gate been established and helped open? There were mysteries involved here that Trav knew he wasn’t qualified to solve yet.
After a pause, Ysintrill bluntly asked, What would you have of me?
“I want you to show me the unique magic you know. If I don’t know it, I want you to teach me.” The divine mantle that Trav had accepted felt more solidly connected now—it made Trav feel good. “I also want to create a rune connection, a bond with you that will give me a little bit more power.”
Will this lower my power, if you can actually free me and do this thing?
“No, you will be mostly unaffected, but the actual mark will probably hurt.”
Compared to an eternity of prison, that sounds acceptable. I agree.
“Okay, good. We have an agree
ment.” Trav felt a sudden surge of optimism. He only had a few godly marks left, a limited number of Valkyries he could make, but maybe he could just keep marking subordinates to get more power! There were problems with this plan, not least of which was that he didn’t even know if Ysintrill would give him any new magic in the first place, but it was worth a try. At the very least, it sure beat sitting around and waiting for random luck.
Now it was time to get back to camp, find a good place to do magic right next to the running water, and wake up the Kin. Trav wasn’t looking forward to it. He had a feeling that Narnaste would have a lot of questions.
Chapter 24
Trav woke up this time in a jumble of bodies, his hand going to his head. In addition to a splitting headache, he had odd pains in strange places. A very long, very shapely leg lay across his own, and he gently, quietly disentangled himself, looking around while he did so.
He was surrounded by women, asleep around and partially on top of him. What the hell?
His thoughts slowly sharpened, and he realized that he was still at the campsite, but something had changed. For starters, it was twilight, almost night. The…feeling of the forest was different now too. Trav couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t even know what set of senses he was even using—normal or divine?
As he continued disentangling himself from the very naked, very female arms and legs he seemed to be tangled with, he counted one woman, two, and three—he did a double take, rubbing his eyes. There was Narnaste, her shapely breasts slowly rising and falling as she breathed. Yaakova was also completely nude, her beautiful, womanly hips jutting up in an interesting way as she slept on one side. But there was another woman too, a dark-skinned, straight-haired beauty whose lithe, athletic body reminded Trav of a figure skater.
When he looked closer, he noticed she had long ears, like an elf. Maybe she was an elf. Weren’t elves a type of disir? Seriously, what the hell? Was I drinking?
He stared, trying to figure out who she was for a moment, his eyes moving to her plump, round, upside-down heart-shaped ass—and his breath stopped. A wolf mark, his divine mark from his ring, was on her lower back.
What the hell happened? What did I do? A hint of panic had intruded on Trav’s inner thoughts, and he redoubled his efforts to free himself. He needed some space, some time to think. Asgard was a dangerous place. Losing control of himself was scary enough. But on Asgard...
Finally, he freed himself from the gaggle of bodies, looking down in fear and wonder. All three women were deep asleep. Narnaste was beautiful as always. Trav had to admit that Yaakova’s alien, bestial appearance was softened by an amazing body, and he allowed himself to admit she was sexy in her own way.
And then there was the third woman. She had the kind of curves that he had admired in centerfolds back on Earth. She had a tiny waist; muscular, womanly thighs; and full, heavy breasts. Was that Ysintrill? The answer seemed on the tip of his mind. He just needed to give it some time. Hopefully.
Trav found his clothes outside, scattered around. He felt another surge of worry over what he’d apparently done but couldn’t remember. His shirt had a new rip in it. He swallowed.
When he was about to leave camp, he remembered to grab his spear. Then, despite being freaked out, he settled on just moving a stone’s throw away. Even though the forest felt strangely peaceful now, he couldn’t leave the women unguarded. They were his Valkyries after all.
“Gaah,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. What had happened? He hated feeling like he wasn’t in control. Stuff like this was why he’d stopped drinking in his 20’s.
With a sigh, he leaned against a tree and cleared his mind, doing some basic breathing exercises. As he calmed his mental state and let his magic flow through his body, he got another shock.
His magic had increased—a lot.
At first, his jaw just dropped, and he didn’t know what to make of it. Then he pulled himself together and realized it probably had something to do with the third woman he’d marked. Ysintrill. Yes, that had to be her. In fact, now he could sort of remember something.
She’d been wild—
The stray thought intruded like an ice cube thrown into hot oil, but he shook his head and regained his senses. He definitely had more bars of available power now. Some memories were starting to trickle back. He’d used some magic, like two bars, while activating the rune circle to free Ysintrill—his memory of everything after that still hadn’t returned, though.
“Strange.” Normally, it took an entire day for his magic to return, or at least he thought so. Maybe it didn’t actually need to take that long. Frowning, he left his thinking spot, heading back to camp, and located the remains of the magic circle. In the center, he didn’t find anything but some scuff marks on the ground and three small pieces of emberstone.
With a thoughtful expression, Trav pocketed the crimson rocks and wandered back to the stump he’d found to sit on.
Did his nap that day replenish his magic, or did the emberstone? It had exploded, right? Could emberstone restore his magic—was it even possible to use it that way? His Odin memories were frustratingly silent on the matter.
Either way, regardless of how, he was back to full magical strength. Also, instead of five bars of available magic, he had eight.
“Eight. Holy crap!” he whispered, and slowly let his head fall into his hands. He stayed that way a while, just breathing, allowing himself to relax. Eventually, his memories returned.
He’d been emberstone drunk. Before now, he hadn’t known that was even possible, but there was no other explanation for what had happened.
Yaakova and Narnaste had been skeptical of Ysintrill’s story—against freeing her—but Trav had overridden them. He’d honestly been curious if his circle could undo whatever had put her in the box. Based on how he understood it, if it worked, the water from the nearby stream would work to help restore her form, too. He’d figured that if she’d been dangerous, or lying about who she was, his two Valkyries would help him deal with it.
Trav shook his head. Things hadn’t turned out like he’d imagined.
Even as he’d activated the rune circle, he’d known something was different than he’d expected. Strong emotions had manifested, and he’d realized he was somehow feeling Ysintrill’s emotional state. Infatuation. He’d saved her. She wanted to see him with her own eyes!
After that, he still only had flashes of memory. Magically enhanced, intense passion. Desire. Marking Ysintrill with connecting runes. Writhing pleasure. Gifting his new Valkyrie with the symbol of his office, then feeling a new, profound connection with all of them as he’d bonded with them, sampled them.
“I can’t believe this.” Trav rubbed his eyes and warred with himself. He had to be honest that part of him felt deeply satisfied. That part was further bolstered by the divine mantle he’d gotten from Odin, or at least he assumed so. But he partly felt a little bit of guilt too, mostly when he thought about his late wife. Coupling with Narnaste had been one thing, but magical orgies? What the fuck?
He laughed a little then, remembering Beth and what she’d actually say if he could speak to her again. She’d been amazing…and blunt. Her worldview had been straightforward in a way that only someone who had lived every day being reminded of their own mortality could manage. Beth had near-constantly told Trav that he carried too much baggage from his former life. Asgard was not Earth. She’d also forced him to promise her he wouldn’t ever give up on life as long as he still lived.
Trav kicked a stick and realized that even if he could accept what had happened—the Valkyries did technically belong to him after all and had chosen that state of affairs—he didn’t want to deal with the fallout. He’d never been particularly good with maintaining one relationship, much less three. Actually, on his road to godhood, he’d probably eventually bond more Valkyries.
“Oh God,” he sighed—but he was a god now. Who could he ask for help? He doubted the creator he’d prayed to intermittentl
y on Earth would have much to say to Odin’s new incarnation.
Trav chuckled, soon transitioning to a deep belly laugh. His situation was utterly ridiculous. Most men would kill for three girlfriends, but his Valkyries were not girlfriends, and not even human women, they were Kin. Well, I’m not sure what Ysintrill is. He decided to think of her as Kin.
The Kin were all dangerous, all of them. Hell, this was Asgard. Even other humans here were scary and homicidal. His recent trials had proven that.
To survive this new life, he needed to be stronger. The raw power he had now was good, but it would be more useful if he upgraded himself some more. With that decided, Trav dove into his rune knowledge again, seeking to confirm the choices he’d made before on the subject. When he mentally went through his permanent rune paths again, his jaw dropped, and he ran through his magical knowledge several more times.
He knew more magic now.
At first, he wasn’t sure how this was possible, but then more flashes of memory reminded him that Ysintrill had shared her mystical knowledge with him even as they’d bonded as master and servant. He’d felt her emotions at the time. He’d saved her from an eternity of imprisonment. She’d give him anything now.
That kind of worried him. After being locked in the box for so long, he wasn’t sure she was sane anymore, but that was a problem for later.
For right now, Trav grabbed a stick and decided to visually map out his most promising new upgrade paths. At this point, he was thankful that his friends and his cousin Ash had introduced him to video games back on Earth. Thinking about permanent rune workings, enchantments, as a magical skill or upgrade tree was already proving very useful. As Ash would have said, he was planning his build.
Without that former knowledge, Trav might have set himself up for long-term failure. For instance, if he’d chosen a pure strength or durability upgrade for his first enchantment, his choices as he continued to gain power would have dwindled. Many of the same rules for upgrading equipment with runes applied to his body, now. Some rune equations were incompatible with each other if they were applied one after the other, or needed to be supported by other runes.
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