Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 58 - Upgrading Odin’s Tools (Patreon)

Bior watched in silence as Einar held the rune.

The stone had turned white, and each of the symbols that had been etched and filled with elemental energy and wyrd glowed. Eventually, they would stop, but the first day or two after creation, a rune was flooded with power.

“It’s vibrating slightly,” Einar said as he turned it over, running his fingers along the symbol for lightning.  “How… how strong is this?”

Arngrim took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulder sagging from the exhaustion he obviously felt.

“You won’t know until you have an etcher put it in your slot,” he replied before turning his head to look at Bior.  “I’m assuming that is possible today?”

The jarl nodded, his head moving rapidly up and down.

“I’ll send for them. We can meet at their room in, say, an hour?”

Groaning, Arngrim shrugged. 

“Hopefully, I’ll still be awake.  It has been a long time since I have felt this drained.”

Einar was still silent, wondering about what he was holding. So much money was invested in a single object.  Knowing that its value was far beyond what had been spent and having heard from Bior how people would react once word got out about what he possessed left him slightly nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry Arn if I have to,” Einar said with a grin.

Bior gently patted the rune crafter on the arm, revealing a massive display of his white teeth as he smiled through his beard.

“Well worth the cost… you did amazing, far better than I had hoped when Einar first told me about you.”

“Does that mean I can charge more?”

The jarl shook his head and laughed.

“Maybe down the road, but for now, let me go. I need to get my etcher,” Bior replied as he turned to go. “You know where to meet Einar, so make sure you carry Arn if needed.”

As the door shut, the rune crafter eased himself off the stool and smiled at the young Viking.

“I’ll take it that you are satisfied with the results?”

Laughing, Einar reached out and grabbed the man, pulling him in for a hug.

At that moment, he realized it was the first adult outside of Thora and Valgard he had ever shown this kind of affection to.  

An awkward moment came as Arngrim took a second to return the embrace, holding it for a few heartbeats before letting go when Einar did.

“There was no other way for me to express my gratitude.  Even gold wouldn’t do much besides put a price on this gift.”

Arngrim nodded and smiled.  

“I’ll gladly take gold if you have any to spare. I seem to have spent all mine.”

They laughed, and Einar pointed toward the door.

“Let’s go ahead and head toward the etcher’s room.  The walk will do you a little good.”

***

They took their time, walking slowly and getting Arngrim something to drink as they made their way through the maze of hallways.  

Hilde kept her room deep inside the stonework of the buildings Bior had many of his craftspeople using.

When they arrived a few minutes early, two guards were outside and motioned that Bior was already in there waiting on them.

Pushing the wooden door open, the sight of Bior sitting on the stone table talking with Hilde made Arngrim almost stumble for a second.

“You okay?” 

He nodded and tapped his head.

“She’s bald… like shaved… why would—”

“It helps me when I’m etching,” Hilde said, stopping Arngrim from getting into trouble with his words.  “What’s the point of hair and needing to braid it when I get better results with less work?”

He nodded as the woman returned her attention to a jar on the table, dipping her fingers into the white paint, and began marking her face and head with runes.

“She’s one who practices the old styles,” Arngrim whispered. “Very dedicated to the ancient ways.”

A smirk appeared on the etcher’s face as she heard what the rune crafter had failed to keep secret.

“One doesn’t make assumptions, do they? Especially when the words their jarl tells them about creating something so unique I can only hope to see another like it if I keep my mouth shut.”

Bior snorted and fixed the spot where his mustache had gotten out of place.

“Hilde, this is Arn.  He will be the one to craft your rune that we have promised.”

Each of them gave the other a simple nod and looked at Einar, who was taking his shirt off.

“Why are you getting undressed?” Hilde asked, pausing her attempt at painting her face.

“For the table?” he replied. “Don’t I need to—”

“Not unless we are doing a tattoo on your upper torso.  The head is different.  The real question will come from what we need to do with your hair.”

Lowering his shirt and slipping his head back through the hole, Einar glanced at Bior, who was grinning.  A chuckle came, and he saw that Arngrim was also smiling.

“We’re cutting my hair?”

“Let me see the rune, and I’ll let you know.  If you’re lucky, only a small section may need to be trimmed, but possibly the whole head, depending on what it is.”

Opening the pouch tied to his belt, Einar pulled the white stone out and held it out toward Hilde.

Her eyes went wide, and her fingers began to tremble.

Taking a quick breath, she wiped the white paint off her fingers on her robe and then took the jar, moved it off the stone table, and put it on another shelf in the room.

“Set it on the table, here, please!” she exclaimed, excitement creeping across her face as her eyes sparked and a grin appeared.

Bior moved and Einar set it carefully on the stone.  It wasn’t going to break, yet somehow, he felt like it was the most delicate thing ever.

Without touching it, Hilde moved around, looking at it from different angles for a moment before she glanced at Arn, who nodded.  Carefully, she picked it up and studied the other side, her eyes widening again as she saw all three symbols marking what was hidden inside the stone.

“For a warrior?” She gasped. “You are giving this to him?”

Bior coughed and nodded.

“There will be many changes in the next few years.  Runes are tools, and this one needs a tool different from the rest if we are going to push back the realms.  You shall be the instrument for Odin and give him the tool needed.”

The Jarl pointed at Arn who was trembling slightly from glee, a smile almost illuminating the man’s face.

“This is the one who makes the gift from the god.  You are the one to give the gift from our god.”

Bior moved behind Einar and put both hands on the warrior’s shoulder.

“He shall be the tool used to shape Midgard for our god.”

Hilde nodded, still amazed at what was about to take place.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. 

Holding the rune close to her face, she stared intently at it, and after a few heartbeats, put the stone against her lips and licked it on different sides.

A smirk appeared and she glanced at Einar as the rune was pressed against her lips.

“We are in for a treat then, Jarl Bior.  This tool shall carve mountains and divide lands, but we shall be known as ones who helped in the tales the skalds sing to our people.”

Einar felt two hands clamp down on his shoulders before he was pushed forward slightly.

“I’ll need to shave the side of your head,” Hilde said as she set the rune down on the table. “Go ahead and sit on that stool while I get my tools.”

Einar saw the wooden box she had pointed to and moved over. He sat down and looked out at the two men, who couldn’t take their eyes off him.

What in the world can that thing do?

***

The sides of his head felt cool. Whatever liquid Hilde had used to wipe off the last of the shaving cream used to trim the side of his head was pleasant, to say the least.  

Now he had a partial mohawk.  Some might call it a mullet in some ways with how much hair was in the front and that party in the back.

Everyone nodded approvingly and while Einar wished for a mirror to see the final product of his haircut, Hilde wouldn’t let him off the table, preparing for the next part.

“Relax and close your eyes,” she said softly as she moved the jar of paint over to near his head. “This next part is going to hurt much worse than the other runes you had bound with you.  Only one thing will hurt more and that is having one removed.  The pain of that… is unique.”

Cold paint began to trace along his face in a pattern, and with his eyes closed, Einar wondered what she was doing.

“That’s incredible,” Arngrim muttered. “She’s already drawing the design.”

Einar started to open his mouth, and a wet finger touched his lips, and he heard a tsk from Hilde.

“Do not move or speak!” she snapped.

“She’s right,” Arngrim added.  “Just hold still and let her do her job.  This is going to sting worse than a kick to your manhood.”

The Jarl chuckled, and Einar lay there, feeling her fingers move along his head and face.

After a minute or two the sensation of paint adhering to his skin was finished and a low hum began to come from the etcher.

“Brace yourself,” she moaned before returning to the low hum.

Unsure what to do, Einar tried to clear his mind and relax.

“You’re going to feel something tightening on you,” Bior said quietly. “It’s just the straps I laid over you.”

He hadn’t felt the straps or even known they were going to do this.  None of the other tattoos he had witnessed required those and concerned at what was about to take place crept in a little.

A tightening of a strap took place around his arms and then another at his waist.  Soon, his legs were tied down at his quads and shins.

Einar wanted to speak and ask why but then the humming stopped and for the briefest moment a cold object touched his temple.

Pain lanced through his eyes, feeling like someone was driving two ice picks into his sockets and into his brain.

Without even a moment to gasp for breath, the sensation of a set of knives being driven into his temples left him trembling.

Hot searing pain as if a brand was being pressed against his skin overcame even the angst of the other two sensations.  He had burned himself many times in his life.  Ejected brass had left a few scars, falling into his open shirt and reminding him of how sensitive skin could be even for a moment.

He could feel his body shaking, almost as if it was a seizure, but he felt the bindings holding him still.

A loud wind came, rushing over him. It suddenly felt like water was being dumped on his face.

Noise and sound vanished right when he blacked out, the world fading into darkness.