Tag: Resonance

  • 14.35 – Frenzy

    14.35 – Frenzy

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    The Song, as eerie and strange as it was to Einarr’s ear, got an immediate reaction from Malùnion. The kraken-like mass of energy surged, and for a moment it seemed to be moving twice as fast. Only a moment, though: it soon became clear it had gone into a frenzy.

    Not that that was better.

    It struck wildly left and right, and then, not bothering to check if it had actually knocked them out of the way or not, surged towards Eydri. Einarr ducked past a flailing tentacle to chop at the body between them and nearly got crushed as it pushed forward. He used the arm he had just cut at as a springboard, narrowly avoiding an ignominious death. Whatever this new Song was, Malùnion seemed to hate it.

    Nobody else needed any encouragement to defend Eydri, either, of course. Whether or not they realized what she was doing, “guarding the Singer” was ingrained in the very marrow of the Clan warriors. Naudrek and Arring both leapt for an eye at the same moment, and while it flinched Einarr wasn’t certain it actually used those eyes for seeing. It was, after all, not really flesh.

    No, never mind: it was definitely looking at things through those eyes: one each focused on those two, and a moment later it lashed out with crackling arms. Naudrek barely managed to spin free of its grasp, while Arring cut the tip off the arm. It recoiled, although the arm tip quickly grew back.

    Eydri’s voice was sustaining notes he had not often heard Runa hit – and Runa had the higher voice, generally speaking. Furthermore, she was doing so at a volume best described as piercing. How long can she keep this up?

    Troa had caught its flinch, too, and now reclaimed arrows flew for its eyes. Whatever Eydri was trying to do, they had to stall it long enough for her to break down its resistance. There was a reason, after all, that Song Magic was generally only applied to ones allies.

    It wasn’t trying to seduce him into despair any longer, at least, but Einarr thought its wordless rage in the back of his head might be worse. It was perhaps harder to resist when it bore such a strong resemblance to the Singer’s battle-fury. No matter: he slashed at the octopus arms as they flailed within reach, sometimes biting deep and sometimes doing nothing more than bouncing off the surface. The frenzy had one other irritating side effect: with all those arms, it was even more difficult to get near the main body than it had been before.

    Even with their best efforts, they had closed half the distance toward where Eydri stood, singing with all her might, her eyes closed. If they didn’t manage to stop this thing before it got her, they might not be able to stop it at all. A glance to the side, where Kaldr and Naudrek fought as desperately as Einarr showed the same thought on their minds. On his other side, Arring and Troa hacked gamely away. Arring’s face looked surprisingly peaceful, and Einarr had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

    Malùnion’s main body jerked towards him, and as Einarr dodged he had no more time to check on his companions.

    His arms moved mechanically now. Eydri’s stamina was not the only one in question. This cut, he got lucky: Sinmora found an already-open wound ahead of him and cut deeply.

    Beside him, Arring roared and leapt up into the air, his blade held high overhead. Einarr blinked, startled, as the strong man landed atop one of the writhing arms and drove the bit of his axe deep enough into the body of the demigod that it was engulfed by flesh. Malùnion’s howl reverberated through the air and through Einarr’s mind at once.

    What happened next was almost too quick to comprehend. The arm Arring stood on whipped back toward the body and wrapped itself about his middle. There was a sucking sound, and a tearing, and then Arring was slammed against one of the pillars that held up the ceiling with a sickening crunch. His axe fell to the ground and his arms flopped bonelessly, but Malùnion didn’t seem to care whether he was dead or merely senseless. The enraged demigod continued to beat Arring’s body against the pillar.

    There was the opening. Grimly, Einarr charged forward: Arring’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

    No less than three of Troa’s arrows planted themselves in the new wound before Einarr reached it, but the eight-legged demigod was far from rational now: something about the combination of Eydri’s Song and the blow that had obviously hurt it had focused all its rage on the cause of the latter. That was good for Troa, and good for Einarr.

    Einarr drove Sinmora up to the hilt into the opening Arring had made, but this didn’t seem to cause any more reaction than Troa’s arrows had.

    He had one idea left: if it didn’t work, he didn’t know what they would do. He focused on the rhythm of Eydri’s Song. This was very different from the beat Sinmora usually resonated at: even if he could make it work, he had no idea what it would do.

    It was going to do something, anyway. He felt Sinmora begin to reverberate with Eydri’s eerie singing.

    The sound of Arring’s corpse being beaten against the wall stopped as a new alarm grew in the mental whispers that still emanated from the mind of Malùnion.

    Einarr opened his mouth and let loose a primal roar. He felt the thrumming in his hands and the bones of his arms as he forced Sinmora’s blade deeper into the body. The pulsation, strangely, grew faster. It was still in time with the song, but it seemed to be racing along at the same time.

    Deep within the body of Malùnion, Sinmora shattered. Einarr felt the moment the blade gave way.

    A moment later, there was a flash of light from inside the massive body before Einarr, and he was flung away, Sinmora’s hilt still clutched in his hand. His flight came to an abrupt end when he impacted the back of one of the stone pews, not far ahead of Eydri. Lightning danced around the edges of his vision: something had broken, but he had no idea what.

    The others were racing across the floor to where he landed: he saw that before he saw what was happening behind them.



     

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 7.34 – Master’s Prerogative

    7.34 – Master’s Prerogative

    Three days later, Einarr was buoyant when he caught his first glimpse of the easternmost farm of the village. He had returned from a quest, and for the first time since Jarl Hroaldr had sent him to rob the jotün he actually felt richer for the victory. There was, after all, no-one to bury this time.

    As the three men walked past, Hrug cradling the bandaged stump of his arm as best he could, the alfs of the village welcomed them warmly. Einarr suspected word had come ahead, somehow – or, as was always possible, they had performed another of their divinations. The welcome was far warmer than he would have expected, even just for himself.

    Melja stood in the village square, dressed as he always was in the rough, almost monastic clothes that Einarr had come to expect from the villagers. “Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “If it isn’t the hero of the decade, returned to us. With friends, no less!”

    “Ah, yes. Elder Melja, allow me to present Naudrek and Hrug,” he said, gesturing to each in turn. “Formerly of the Bjorn. Their assistance ensured the Shroud was destroyed, and in turn they have no ship to return to.”

    Melja glanced at Hrug and nodded: why he could no longer sail was obvious. But then he turned his eye towards Naudrek and raised an eyebrow at Einarr.

    “I’m afraid we, ah, stepped on his Captain’s toes a little in the process of fighting the Shroud.”

    Naudrek snorted. “He treats that ship like it was his only child. I bullied the lookout to let you on, and we cut up the deck. I shoulda known better, really.”

    Einarr turned back to Melja with a shrug. “And there you have it.”

    The Elder nodded. “I take it you managed to discover the key to awakening Sinmora?”

    “Yes, thanks to a Singer in the port. Sinmora… she seemed to eat the Shroud. Just like she seemed to eat the magic of the wards. All she needed was to touch it, once she was resonating.”

    “Resonance, you say. Interesting… Well, we’ll have time enough to examine the sword while you’re here.” Melja looked back at Hrug, considering. “Well, in that case, you are well come to the Shrouded Village. The quest was a part of Einarr’s training… but I think we can see about some reward for the two of you.”

    “Thank you, sir.” Naudrek bobbed his head, as though he weren’t sure if he should bow or not. Einarr remembered the feeling.

    “Mira and I still have some room. Einarr, show them to the house and then meet me at the archive. There’s much to do yet if you want to rejoin your ship in the spring.”

    “In the spring? I thought I was to go back in late fall, before the end of the Season.”

    “Oh, goodness, no,” Melja chuckled. “If you’d had no talent for the working, maybe, but you’ve got the knack and you’re clever besides. I simply can’t send you back half-trained.”

    “What do you mean, you can’t send me back?”

    “You have shown surprising talent for the runes – far more than I expected when our mutual friend brought you here – and you have already stumbled upon an excellent way of killing yourself with them if you leave here half-trained. Which you would, if I sent you back to your ship this fall. Especially given the time you lost to hunting the Shroud.”

    Which, he did not add, would not have been free in the first place were it not for Einarr’s mysterious sword. He did not need to: it had been said already.

    “My Father expects me back. He has commissioned a second ship, one which I’m to helm, which will be ready on our return to Kjell.” Runa also expected him back, but he did not intend to mention her. Or his eagerness to brag of his deeds before Jarl Hroaldr.

    “Nevertheless, you will stay. I daresay your father desires a live heir more than a dead one, and if the price of that is that someone else helms your ship in the interim, then that is the price that must be paid. You cannot leave here. Not so early.”

    “When Ystävä arrives to take me back to Breidhaugr—”

    “Our mutual friend has already been made aware of the situation. He will not be coming until the spring.”

    Einarr gaped for a long minute. Was this what came of dealing with alfs? “This is not what we agreed on!”

    Melja drew himself up to his full height and stared down at Einarr, all trace of warmth gone from his demeanor. “I am modifying the agreement. As your Master in the art of Runes, I declare that you are not ready. Should I let you loose on the world as you are now, you would be a menace to yourself and those around you. Now. Show your guests to the longhouse. There is work to be done.”

    The old alfr turned and stalked away into the village. Einarr must have twitched, as though he intended to go after him, because he felt a pair of restraining hands on his arms. When he turned to look, Hrug shook his head.

    “Pretty sure that’s a fight you don’t want to win.” Naudrek looked more serious than Einarr had seen since he got kicked off the Bjorn.

    “I only came here to learn how to read them in the first place.”

    “And yet, you’ve not hesitated to use them once, that I’ve seen. An’ you’re an honorable man, but you’re also a clever one. Best listen to him, don’t you think?”

    Einarr grumbled, still staring after Melja. Finally he gave a sharp tug at the hem of his tunic. “Fine. You’re… not wrong. This way.”

    Spring, then. Spring, at the earliest, before he could boast of his deeds to the Jarl. Before he could hear Erik and Bardr and Jorir’s tales of what had happened while he was away. Spring, at the earliest, before he could see Runa. He quashed a growl, knowing that Melja and Naudrek and the old Singer, whose hands he saw in this, were right.


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    Table of Contents


    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!  Here ends book 7: Einarr and the Crimson Shroud. Book 8 will begin on Oct. 1, 2019, and marks the beginning of an entirely new arc in the story. I hope you’re looking forward to it!

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.