Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 51 - Katanes (Patreon)

“She is right,” Arngrim said when Einar leaned against the edge of the ship.  “Lightning is a dangerous weapon and tool but often destructive.  Imagine what it can do to a foe, but what about an ally?”

“Does fire not spread just as easily?” Einar asked as he watched the older man study him.

Sighing, Arngrim nodded and scratched his chin.

“Fire is just as dangerous in some ways, but lightning can also burn one's soul, not just one's body,” Arngrim replied.  “It will hurt an ice giant and will even hurt a fire one.  While the ice giant will take more damage, the lightning travels through both, doing damage.  It’s still less against a fire giant, but…” the older man paused and thought for a moment. “Like being hit with an axe or a club if you’re wearing chain armor.  Each hurt. One can cut you, while the other just smashes you.  Even if the chain stops the cut, there is still some impact from the hit.  However, the club is going to break bones; the axe might not.”

“So, are you telling me to avoid the lightning then?”

Shaking his head, the rune crafter groaned.  

“We are too deep to change now.  What you want will be determined by whether the dwarves have it or not.  I’ll do the talking; you be the muscle.  If, for a moment, they think you want this, the price will increase, and we’ll be out of luck.”

“I won’t say a word. I’ll just be the walking muscle behind you,” Einar replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Good, exactly what I need.   Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to sleep.  Something about the rocking of the boat soothes me.”

Nodding, Einar found himself tired.  It had been far too long since he could just relax.  A small nap wouldn’t be that bad at all.

***

His legs were shaking, and sweat ran down every inch of his body.

“Don’t give up, Einar,” Groa said, grinning as she watched the warrior struggling to hold the position she had been in for hours.  “You can do this!”

His quads burned, and his shoulders felt on fire.  Even his core felt weak as he realized it hadn’t been an hour of him standing like she was, trying to hold it.

It’s like yoga, only ten times worse… and I really hated yoga.

Arngrim and some of the other deck hands looked on with smiles, money passing hands between people as they bet on how much longer till Einar gave up.

Closing his eyes, he continued trying to breathe, keeping the core tight the entire time.  

Muscles were cramping, and he wondered how Groa managed to do this without sweating every ounce of water she had inside.  Sure, one of the crew had brought her a cup and gave her something to drink, yet she barely glistened in the sun.

Another three minutes passed, and no matter what his mind told his body, it gave out, sending him to the wooden deck, panting and lying there in a puddle of sweat.

A few cheered at winning the bets, while others cursed.

“You going to practice that each day,” she asked with a slight grin. “Perhaps you’ll eventually be able to last an hour.”

“I’d bet he can’t,” Arngrim called out as he walked over.

“Please, that’s a fool's bet,” Groa replied. “Do I look like those fools with tears in their eyes? I wouldn’t make a bet on something you could easily win by having him toss in the towel.”

“Oh, you don’t know this one. He’d love to see me lose.”

Laughing, Groa shook her head and focused on the sails.

“In about three hours, we’ll stop and eat a little.  After that, I’ll continue moving us up stream for a little while longer before we hit the hard part.  Once there, we’ll rest for the night and get started early in the morning.”

Nodding, Einar felt the wet wooden planks against his skin.  He hadn’t imagined how hard it might be to start working on exercise that would help with his mysticism.  Not only had he been focusing on keeping everything tight and compressed, but his mind had also been looking inward, searching for the wyrd inside him, as Groa called it. 

It felt a little like some Eastern mystical stuff, but he knew it was impossible to argue or doubt after seeing magic in person.

“I’ll do what I can tomorrow.  For now, I just want to drink some water, wash off, and lie down till we eat,” Einar gasped.  “My quads feel far worse than they have in a while, and my stomach is still trembling.”

Groa nodded and smiled.

“Remember, I spent years learning this.  It doesn’t come easy, but I see a spark of desire in you.  That’s hard to replicate, and I have no doubt you’ll keep going till you master it.”

Arngrim groaned and nodded.

“He is a stubborn bastard.”

***

Every day had passed the same, with Einar attempting twice a day to hold the position for as long as he could.  

On the sixth day, the last full one before they would come in view of the capital, Einar was committed to the last attempt.

The whole ship, except the helmsman, was cheering him on as the first hour passed.  His calves were twitching, and his feet felt like they were going to cramp like the rest of him. 

One of the crew had given him a little water, almost choking him while he tried to breathe, drink, swallow, and keep his core tight for so long. 

“You’re almost there.  Keep going!” Groa cheered, her body holding the same pose he was attempting to mimic.

“Clear your mind, focus on the wind, focus on something ahead.  See your power leaving your hand from where your heart is.  Fuel it with rage, or compassion, or a purpose!”

Einar’s eyes were closed, and he gave a brief nod, regretting the moment he did for how it impacted his shoulders.  

His mind was focused on one thing. Completing the quest Odin had given him.  If he could do that, overcoming all the odds and saving the people of Midgard from the threat, then he could save his friends.  A fate much greater than any pain he could endure.

His runes began to call out to him at that moment.  They each reverberated with a low hum inside him.  He needed to get stronger, find more runes, and master all of them.  

There were realms to visit and see, a warband to raise, and Ragnarök had to be stopped.

Breathing was harder, and as his mind started to wander, the world crashed back on him.

All the concentration and focus that had taken him from the pain and moment vanished, sending him to the deck in a ball of sweat.

Everyone groaned but cheered as they came close with water and some towels.

“Well done!” Groa said as she turned her head slightly to the left and smiled at him. “Almost an hour and a half.  I’m impressed.”

“Really?” Einar gasped.  “It felt like just an hour ago.”

She nodded once and then turned her attention to the sail.

“You found your center, focused on something.  Everyone stopped talking when they realized you couldn’t be bothered.  When you lost it, it was obvious by the wet spot on the wood.”

Everyone burst out in laughter until the sound of a goat laughing drowned them all out.

***

As the capital came into view, Einar realized just how much grander it was than Kopanes.  

Katanes made Jarl Bior’s city look like the red-headed stepchild in a family of twelve blond-headed kids.  

Massive walls, fifty feet high, encircled the first layer of the capital, and the ground continued to rise, with a second wall just as high encircling the next.  Three different walls surrounded King Erik and the elite members of Viking society on the hilltop. 

Giant flags with a crossed hammer and spear on them waved in the wind, one even visible from miles away.

Massive farmlands with irrigation ditches, intricate waterways, and more ran on both sides of the river, and a bridge that had to be suspended only by magic crossed over the watery expanse.

“Yup, I know that look,” Arngrim said quietly.  “Takes your breath away.”

Nodding, Einar knew they were still a good hour from getting off at the docks that he had been told about.  So many ships were flowing up and downstream, many laden with massive cargo loads, while others were like theirs, only carrying people.

***

Two stone paths were on the left side of the river, with boats floating between both.  Massive horses pulled the boats up the waterway, giving those who had used poles to fight the current a needed break.  All at a price, of course.

Other ships had wind mages using their magic, avoiding the costly section that helped against the increased speed of the river.

Groa wasn’t talking anymore, and her runes were glowing brighter as she fought against the current.

“Wouldn’t a water mage be better for using it to propel one forward?” Einar asked quietly.

Chuckling, Arngrim shook his head and grinned. 

“They tried that a few times… a few ships capsized, others got stuck.  Even with a pair of water mages, it was too much work.  I’m not certain how the magic of creating wind works, but it’s the only way that has ever been recorded.”

“What about steam power?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and an eyebrow raised as Einar looked at him.

“Fire, water, compressed in metal, creates steam which can be…”

Not finishing his statement, he saw the rune crafter’s eyes go wide and glance around the boat.

“Did the All-Father tell you about these things?” he asked quietly.  “If so, you must tell me more! What can they do?!”

“I’m not sure,” Einar lied, watching as Arngrim’s face lost the excitement it had.  “Maybe I can try to remember and sketch a few things.”

Nodding, the older man’s grin appeared, which always showed up when the chance to make money was around.

“Now let me focus on the city,” Einar said as he turned his attention back to the wonders of what he saw.

“Up ahead at the top of the river is the giant divide.  It runs on both the east and west side,” Arngrim explained.  “Two massive areas have large water wheels stationed in sections like that boat moving area.  They spin quickly and work in blacksmithing, grain grinding, and other areas of crafting, cutting out massive amounts of manual labor.

“Those things allow for more work to be done on actual creation.  The amount of goods they produce is consumed at an alarming rate.  With no one really dying, we run into the problem of needing work for people and food.  So many now serve as farmers just because.  Those inside the walls provide skill labor, and we then have the university, which handles all the magical rune casting.”

“What about rune crafters?”

Frowning, Arngrim nodded. 

“There is a major school there which creates runes.  Most are destroyed and reused for materials. The king and the other masters keep the majority of the students limited to intermediate levels of crafting, fearing what would happen if they had the ability to produce enough runes for all the people would do.”

“You never answered that question when I asked it years ago,” Einar said.  “What is Midgard’s weakest point of all of this? If we outfitted every person with runes and attacked the other realms, surely, we would win.”

“That has been discussed and done a long time ago. That king died… 137 years old. I mentioned old age is the one thing no one can escape.  Not even the king.”

“So, when King Erik passes?”

Grunting, Arngrim frowned. “With his son's current state, the transition may be difficult. No other child of the king would fight for the position, and that would mean one of his advisers or the Jarls would fight for it. That will cause chaos as the current system tries to decide who would be best.”

“By a tournament?” Einar asked.

“Something like that.  Not everyone could compete.  Jarl Bior and Unnulf could, but there are some housecarls that would be given the chance to compete as well. I know a few, and none of them would be a good choice.”

“And the people are okay with this?”

“Sometimes I forget you got your head bashed in with a stone,” Arngrim muttered.  “Tell me, what can you do against a man with eight runes?  Especially if you’re a farmer? What ability do you have?  You saw how Reinn treated Valgard before you accomplished what you did.  None of those men stand a chance against the king or his warriors.”

Frowning, Einar realized there was more at stake than simply stopping Ragnarök.  He had to somehow change the land.

“How hard would it be to outfit an entire village with runes? And not be caught doing so?”

Wincing, Arngrim shook his head.

“We can discuss that somewhere that is not on the deck of a ship in the open.  What you want to know will take longer than we have.”

Still frowning, Einar let it go, choosing instead to watch as the capital continued to grow and the area they were aiming for drew closer.

“Fine, let’s find a place to stay and prepare for the dwarves.”

Nodding, the rune crafter gave a gentle pat on his young friend's back.

“Trust me, this week is going to be a fun one.”