Blood of the Isir Omnibus

by Erik Henry Vick

  “Time for that later,” said Frikka, with a glance my way. She tried to communicate something with her eyes—she wanted me to keep mum about the dreams.

  “I’m starving,” I said. “And parched. Didn’t anyone give me water?”

  “Yes,” said Sif without opening her eyes. “Though you spat more back at me than you drank.” She sat up, weariness in every movement. “I’m glad you’re awake and yourself again, Hank, but I wish you’d chosen a time later in the day.” She stifled what looked to have been a huge yawn. “Now, Althyof, stop pestering my patient.”

  “I wasn’t pestering—‍”

  “Away with you,” Sif said, but she smiled to take the sting out of it. “Hank needs a check-up.”

  Althyof glanced my way, and I smiled up at him. “Better do as she says, or she’ll make you drink one of her potions,” I said. Althyof nodded and walked to the pool to wash.

  Frikka walked over and held out her hand. “We should speak privately.”

  “Fine, but Sif—‍”

  “We’ve known each other a long time,” said Sif. “I knew what she wanted.”

  Frikka nodded, so I shrugged and let her pull me to my feet. We walked a short way deeper into the cave, out of earshot of the rest of the party. “What you did,” she began. “It is important that you not share the alternate version of the past.”

  “The alternate…”

  “Yes. The version of the battle with the undead bear.”

  “You remember it that way, too?”

  She shook her head. “I remember the undead bear killing Veethar in front of you.”

  I stopped and stared at her. “It was true? My dream?”

  Frikka nodded. “I couldn’t stand the prospect of going on without him, so I…so I…”

  “You gave me a prophetic dream, so I would intervene?”

  She nodded but wouldn’t—or couldn’t—meet my gaze. “I had no idea it would cause your injuries—I couldn’t see past the changes I would wreak because none of it had been written yet.”

  “By the Nornir,” I muttered.

  Frikka nodded again. “You’ve dreamed before—not troymskrok, but meaningful dreams. Yes?”

  I recalled the dreams I’d had since coming to Osgarthr. I recalled the dream of finding Jane and Sig in Piltsfetl, only to have them murdered before my eyes. “Yes, I think so.”

  “You have,” she said with a matter-of-fact demeanor. “But you never realized, you never knew you could change such things.”

  “No.”

  “But now, you do.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what happened in your fever-dreams…was that troymskrok?”

  “I…don’t know. Maybe not.”

  “Can you tell me of it?”

  “There were three themes, or maybe two. One theme, which took place here in the cave, amounted to me speaking with Kuthbyuhrn and getting him to stop attacking. He told me about Kyellroona’s death and his own. We tried to get the lantvihtir to leave us alone, but they wouldn’t agree. The—‍”

  “So, you changed their uhrluhk—theirs and Kuthbyuhrn and Kyellroona’s.”

  I shrugged.

  “How? How did you learn to do this?”

  “The two other themes took place around the Tree of Life. One—‍”

  “Iktrasitl?”

  “Yes.”

  “You saw them? You visited the Well of Urthr?”

  “In my dream, yes.”

  She was silent for a moment, staring into the darkness deep in the cave. “Do you… I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, Hank,” she said.

  “I understand that, now. When the bear hit me—stabbed me with my spear and sent me flying—I landed near you. You were crying, trying to apologize. You rushed to my side, and in my pain and confusion, it seemed like you were trying to poison me, but you were only trying to staunch the flow of blood. I used my cloak—twisted my fettle—to get away from you, and when I came out of its effect, I collapsed. I didn’t understand—not until I…”

  “Not until something happened at the Well of Urthr.”

  I shook my head. “No, farther up in Iktrasitl. I think… Maybe I met Odin.” It sounded stupid to say it aloud, but I had no other explanation.

  “To my knowledge, there is no Isir named Odin,” she said.

  “It may be my subconscious mind filling in the gaps,” I said with a shrug. “In Mithgarthr, Odin is the ‘Allfather,’ the leader of the Isir. In our legends, he hung himself from Iktrasitl to learn runic magic or to gain wisdom or something of the sort.”

  She arched her eyebrows, and a small smile played on the edges of her mouth. “And you only have to hang yourself on the Tree of Althyof.”

  “In my dream, whoever it was hanging in the tree with me gave me his knowledge of the runes and his knowledge of the Gamla Toonkumowl.”

  “Er thath svo?” she asked.

  “Yes, it is so. Yek lyooa echke vith vini meena.”

  “No. You are not one to lie to your friends—or anyone else.” Frikka cocked her head to the side. “Are we still friends?”

  I stopped walking and turned to face her. “Yes, Frikka. What you did, it…it almost killed me, true, but it also saved Veethar and gave me what is perhaps the greatest gift I’ll ever receive.”

  She nodded once, relief sketched in the lines around her eyes. “Can you tell me of it? Of the Well?”

  “You have a better understanding of it than I do.”

  She shook her head. “I can see what will happen, and I can change it, but it appears my methods differ from what you did—by a great deal. This…” She waved her arms wide. “This is much more than I can do.”

  “The Well is at the base of Iktrasitl, but it isn’t a well. At least it wasn’t in my dream version. It was a campfire, around which the three Maids sat. The skein of fate…it’s carved into the bark of Iktrasitl—billions upon billions of runes describing all the events that make up all the lives of…well, everyone who ever lived, I guess. They stretched from the base of the tree up past where my vision could no longer resolve any details.”

  “And how did you change…things?”

  “Kuhntul gave me a chisel, and I carved through the line that described Kyellroona’s death, the death of the Tverkar who became lantvihtir in this cave, and Kuthbyuhrn’s death. The runes changed by themselves, to tell a different tale. The story went that Kuthbyuhrn let loose a mighty roar—‍”

  “And the Tverkr saw the error of their ways,” said a deep, resonant voice from the darkness.

  “Hello, Kuthbyuhrn,” I said.

  “Hello, friend. It seems I should remember your name, but I do not.”

  “My name is Hank, and I’m glad to see you again, but I don’t understand how you are still alive.”

  “Uhrluhk,” he said and chuffed through his nose.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “It is what it is,” he said, with a curious inflection in his voice.

  I laughed. “Yes, that too.”

  “I don’t know why I said that, friend Hank,” Kuthbyuhrn said.

  “It was part of a conversation we had, but which never happened.”

  Kuthbyuhrn stepped out of the darkness, and he was beautiful, as he had been in my dreams. Alongside him stepped another bear, even more beautiful than Kuthbyuhrn.

  “Kyellroona?” I asked.

  She chuffed gently through her nose and lifted her head. “My mate has dreamed of you for years and told me stories. In my heart, we are friends already.”

  “I’d like nothing more.”

  “Uhrluhk,” she said and chuffed through her noise.

  “Yes,” I said. “And I am glad to meet you.” In the corner of my eye, I noticed Frikka staring at me. “What?” I turned to face her.

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anyone but Veethar speak to animals.” She turned and bowed to the two magnificent bears. “Give them my respects, please. I’ll let you get reacquainted.”

  Smiling, I turne
d back to my friends. “I don’t understand how you are both still alive, but I’m glad. And you were wrong, Kuthbyuhrn. You aren’t a simple bear. Not at all.”

  The expression mirrored on those two ursine faces left me with no doubt that bears can—and do—smile.

  Thirty-six

  Three days later Sif pronounced me fit for travel, and we set off through the cave. The horses stamped their feet and snorted a lot, restless from the long confinement underground. Keri and Fretyi pranced around the horses yipping and barking and generally making a nuisance of themselves as puppies are wont to do. Every time I looked at the varkr pups, their capacity for turning way too much food into solid bulk amazed me. Long, wiry fur in dark gray and black had replaced their puppy fur, and they were starting to look like wild, scary wolves.

  Veethar and Frikka stayed to themselves, whispering in intense conversations that seemed to frustrate Veethar a great deal. Frikka seemed to grow angrier with each conversation. No doubt I was the subject of that conversation—or at least the unintended consequences of Frikka’s deed—but what could I do? After all, I wouldn't want someone butting into Jane’s and my business.

  Sif mother-henned me at every opportunity, smearing a stinky ointment here, pushing a repugnant draught there, until I wanted to scream, but she was doing her best for me, and I feared saying anything to her lest Jane use her axe on me. Sig seemed content and happy now that I was up and moving around, though he stayed close to my side rather than palling around with Mothi.

  Kuthbyuhrn and Kyellroona elected to walk with us, and I must admit that having the two hulking bears shambling at our sides went a long way toward making everyone feel safer inside the cave. Kuthbyuhrn didn’t smell more trolls lurking in the shadows of his cave but said he couldn’t be certain. I think he just wanted to spend time with us, and that made me happy.

  It was a two-day walk through the labyrinth of caves beneath the Dragon's Spine Mountains, which made the fact that it took us a week and five days—counting the time I’d spent recovering—all the more frustrating.

  Uhrluhk, I thought and imitated a bear chuffing through his nose as I saw the light at the end of the long, long tunnel, both the figurative and the real.

  "Yes, Hank?" asked Kuthbyuhrn.

  "Oh, nothing,” I said with a grin. "I was thinking 'uhrluhk' and then..." I chuffed through my nose.

  "Oh! That's funny." Kuthbyuhrn repeatedly chuffed, which I guessed was bear for laughter. He swung his massive head on a level with my own. "Kyellroona and I were talking last night."

  "Oh yeah?"

  "Yes. Neither of us remembers a time when either one of us was dead, but even so, we owe you a debt of gratitude. We've lived a long time—maybe longer than we should have. And from the sound of it, we owe you all those years. We—"

  "Whoa there, big guy," I said. "You don't owe me anything." I looked past him at Kyellroona. "Neither one of you owes me a single thing."

  "Hank, we respectfully disagree. In the dreams I have had for years and years, Kyellroona is always dead and gone, and I am left alone stuck in this cave with only lantvihtir for company. Plus, I'm dead, and my body is decaying around me. I don't know if you've ever been dead, but it wasn't a pleasant sensation."

  I nodded, replaying my recent out-of-body experiences in my memory—all the bouncing around, feeling powerless, out of control.

  "Plus, our lives would have been so short," said Kyellroona. "We would've never had the opportunity to cub."

  "Well, you saved my wife and son from the trolls. How about we agree to call it even?"

  "We are cave bears, Hank, and the other side of this cave opens on a forest that is…distasteful to us, or we would go with you on your quest,” said Kuthbyuhrn.

  "I appreciate that, my friend, but you don't owe me a thing."

  "We have something—some things—that may be of use to you and your party." Kyellroona stopped walking. "Would you please follow me, Hank?"

  "Hey, hold up everyone!" I yelled.

  "As much as I love being underground, could we get on with it here?" yelled Althyof.

  “I’ll be right back. Go on without me if you are impatient.” I turned to Kyellroona and smiled. She chuffed and led me to a small tunnel that branched off the main cave. As we left the others, the light streaming in from the entrance disappeared like we’d submerged in a lake of black ink. “Au noht,” I whispered, blinking against the sting.

  “We’ve lived in these caves for a long time, as you know,” she said. “And in that time, many a foolish man or troll or Tverkr has ventured into our domain. If they left us alone, we left them alone, but few of them left us alone.” We rounded a bend, and the tunnel opened into a wide chamber. “Most often we could scare them away—Kuthbyuhrn has become proficient at roaring in a frightening way. Those we couldn’t scare away, we…” She glanced at me. “Well, we dealt with the threat to our home. Kuthbyuhrn has become proficient at fighting men, as well.” She waved at the chamber with her head. “Look around, take what you wish, with our thanks. It’s far too little, but it’s all we can offer.”

  “Kyellroona, that you thought of this is more than enough.”

  “Still,” she said.

  With a shrug, I stepped around her bulk and gasped at what I saw. The chamber contained mining equipment, armor, weapons, chests, tack for the horses and other pieces of leather, and forestry equipment. “This is quite a collection,” I said.

  “Yes. We regret having it, but…”

  “You have every right to defend your home.” I flipped the lid open on one of the chests. Coins minted in gold filled it to the rim. Another chest contained gemstones of every color I could imagine. I walked deeper into the room, marveling at the antiquity of some of the items. There was an ancient looking leather case—similar to a map case, but shorter. It had fancy, gold-clad decorations and hardware, and a leather shoulder strap.

  I picked it up, imagining I might make collars for Keri and Fretyi, and as I did, the lid flapped open, revealing a roll of paper—a scroll. I took it out and unrolled it, treating it like tissue paper.

  Runes covered it, and they glowed in my enchanted sight. Horizontal lines that stretched from one edge of the scroll to the other broke it into neat sections. I scanned the runes of the first part, reading them as I would read the newspaper or a letter—with no particular attention to stayba runana or toward rhythm and tempo—but as I read, an irresistible tempo took hold of my mental voice, and I rushed through the kaltrar, unable to stop. Along with the tempo, runes cast themselves as I read, appearing in my mind’s eye, and exploding outward a heartbeat later.

  My eyes stung, as they always did when someone enchanted my eyes with the words “au noht” but with much, much more intensity, and my eyes flooded with tears. Still, I couldn’t stop reading, my eyes racing over the runes, my mind churning with their casting.

  I reached the end of that first part, and my eyes stopped their maniacal march across the paper as they touched on the horizontal line. Dizziness assaulted me, and I staggered a step. My eyes still stung and burned, like I’d gotten a dab of Sif’s joint ointment in my eyes, or I’d rubbed my eyes after handling hot peppers. My throat was dry, raw—as if I’d been shouting the runes rather than reading them in utter silence, and my legs shook as though I’d run fifteen miles.

  “Are you okay?” asked Kyellroona from the doorway to the chamber.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Got dizzy for a second.”

  The big she-bear crooned through her nose. “Shall I fetch your mate?”

  “No need.” I re-rolled the scroll and slid it back into the case. I slipped the shoulder strap over my head—which felt strangely right and proper—and a gleaming mail shirt caught my eye. It looked like the perfect size for Sig.

  “Kyellroona, I’ve said you don’t owe me a thing—‍”

  “Yes, wrong-headed as it is. Take one thing, take it all, we have no use for any of it.” She rolled her massive shoulders.

  “Are you
sure?”

  She grunted and clicked her tongue. “We’re bears, Hank. We can’t use this stuff.”

  I walked over to the mail shirt. It was a bluish-gray and shone in my enchanted eyesight. I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder. It was much lighter than it should have been. I turned back toward the entrance. “I’ll take a chest of gemstones, okay?”

  Kyellroona nodded her head. “Take them all.”

  “Yowtgayrr, could you and Skowvithr help me?” I asked. I never knew when they were around anymore—not since they’d started using their invisibility to forestall arguments from me about needing their help.

  “Yes.” The two Alfar appeared, lounging near the entrance.

  Kyellroona gave a startled blow through her nose and clacked her teeth together. “Your friends should be more careful, Hank—scaring a bear like that could be dangerous.”

  Yowtgayrr bowed to her. “Our apologies, Lady Bear.”

  Kyellroona repeatedly chuffed—more bear laughter. “Lady Bear,” she murmured.

  “You understand her?” I asked.

  Yowtgayrr smiled his enigmatic smile. “She is of nature, is she not?”

  I shook my head and pointed at a chest of gold coins and one of gems. Each Alf stooped and took one. “Is there anything here either of you can use?”

  Skowvithr shook his head. “Our needs are small.”

  “I’d ask Althyof, but I know what he’d want. Tell him he can have as much of the gold as he can carry and still dance.”

  Yowtgayrr nodded.

  “Kyellroona, is it okay to ask the others to come and pick something?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Hank, everything in this room is yours. Bring whoever you like here and let them do as they please.”

  “Could you tell the others?” I called after Yowtgayrr’s retreating form.

  “Yes!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  As I turned back to survey the room, a shield caught my eye. It stood in the corner, leaning against the cave’s wall behind a chest. The round, forged-metal shield had a bright alloy ring around the edge. In its center was a raven, enameled in black. Perfect, I thought. The others arrived right as I picked up the shield.

  I found a golden spear with a haft the color of honey as well—one that was the perfect length for Jane. I’d never liked the idea of her getting toe-to-toe with some mad bastard and swinging sharp things at each other. With a spear, she’d be at least a couple of steps away when she attacked—or she’d be able to fly above the battle and hurl it from range. And, with Althyof’s help, maybe I could put my new-found knowledge of runic magic to good use and enchant it for her.