Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 50 - A Lesson in Wyrd (Patreon)

“I cannot believe we are on our way to Katanes,” Einar stated.  “For years now, all I have heard about is how amazing it is, yet here I am, about to travel there with a smelly old man.”

Laughing like a goat, Arngrim gave his usual hand gesture and turned to the woman he had just introduced to Einar.

“Groa, ignore my young friend.  He has never had the chance to witness one of your talents before.  I promised him the view of a lifetime, and you already have not disappointed.”

Rolling her eyes, the middle-aged woman stood there on the deck, barefoot and wearing clothes that might almost be considered a swimsuit.  The cloth was bunched up, showing her curves and fit body, tight muscles everywhere on her skin that saw enough sun to remain a dark brown.  Her blond hair was tied back in a single ponytail, and her eyes were as blue as the sea.

All over were tattoos on her chest, arms, legs, and stomach.  

“You shall be in for a treat; soon, I shall be able to afford a back rune, and then I will be able to charge men like this friend of yours even more.”

Her smile revealed a missing tooth from the top middle row, ruining an almost perfect smile.

“How hard is it to acquire such runes for wind magic?” Einar asked as the sailors finished preparations to leave.

“The elves are very stingy with the materials we need, and no one ventures into the other realms anymore, so it isn’t cheap,” she replied, spitting on the wood deck after. “As you can imagine, one does not want to buy worthless runes, or they will limit their ability.  The good news is I have only seen combat once, and that was from a fool who thought they could skip out on their second half of payment.”

She leaned forward and glared at Arngrim. 

“Just remember, air beats an axe, especially if I know the axe is coming.”

The older man nodded and rolled his eyes.  

“You know who recommended me.  Don’t worry about that.  If I tried to welch out, this fine thegn would gladly pay my bill.”

Einar sighed and shook his head.

“No. I would help tie you to her mast and let her do whatever she wanted to you.”

Groa burst out in laughter, causing the other deckhands to stop and see what had brought such an outburst.

Before they had even set out, Arngrim had given a second crude gesture to Einar.

“Bah, let’s get moving.  We need to reach the capital soon.”

With that, the older man moved to the front of the boat and lay down, using the shade provided by the small tent that had been pitched.

“Are you going to join him?” Groa asked as she got into position behind the mast and the sail that would soon be opened after the deckhands got them into the river using poles.

“Eventually, but until the wind moves, the smell might be too much to stomach.”

She laughed again, nodding as she turned.

“Make for the river! We sail!”

With her command, the crew lifted the long sticks near the edge and began moving them into the water as the dock worker tossed the only thing keeping them there over.

As the city began to drift away, Einar remembered the first time he had arrived and how it had felt, and now, he saw it slowly leave his view.

“It never gets old,” Groa said. “I’ve done this route countless times, and each time, I always enjoy a glance back, knowing I’ll return again.”

Nodding, he turned his attention to the woman and smiled.  

“Can I ask a rune question?”

She cocked her head sideways and grinned, that missing tooth visible, and nodded.

“This should be a good one, provided you don’t ask to trace my runes like some do.”

Laughing, Einar shook his head.

“Tell me, how does your wyrd last so long when doing this all day?”

Standing upright, Groa placed her feet slightly apart and got into a balanced position.

He could see her tightening her stomach.

“Hit me, right here.”

“Uh… I’m sorry, what?”

Snorting, Groa smacked her own stomach with a fist.

“Hit me, right here.  Don’t hold back.”

“You’re sure—”

“HIT ME!” she bellowed.

Einar didn’t wait, stepping forward and coming at her stomach with a punch.  The tattoo on her stomach glowed, and two inches from contact, his hand hit a wall of air and was slowed down instantly.  His knuckle barely touched her skin, and Groa’s eyes widened when it did.

“Impressive! You’re stronger than I thought! To actually make it through my barrier means you are well beyond what you should be.”

She moved to where Einar was standing and gave him a glance, unable to see anything beyond the single tattoo on his arm.

“Very well, let me tell you how it works and show you as well. We’ll discuss it as I work.”

With that, she turned back to the sail the men were letting down, watching as the others finished getting them into position.

“Now, wyrd is like Stamina, but different.  It takes time and rest to regain my wyrd.  At night, we’ll anchor and sleep so that in the morning, I can repeat the process.”

Groa had her arm tattoos begin to glow, some of them looking like air swirled around in lines, and then the tattoos on her leg, chest, and arms glowed the same yellow color.

Wind came from her hands and enveloped the sail and the boat, sending it forward with a lurch.

She laughed as Einar missed a step, not expecting the power that came from it.

“Now that I have control of the air, all I need to do is keep it going.  I won’t use the same power the entire trip because that isn’t possible.”

Taking a deep breath and pausing, she slowly exhaled, her legs and core tight as her hands were held upward at the sails.

“A strong body is important because, like you, I cannot hope to just use magic and drain my body if it isn’t in good shape.  When I was younger, I tired out quickly.  Holding this position all day isn’t easy.”

He knew his eyes had widened at realizing she was going to stand like that for hours on end.

Winking, Groa turned her attention to the sail.

“Tell me, when you run, do you race with everything or just find a steady pace you can keep up, running for hours or maybe even a day?”

“It depends,” he replied, already knowing the trap she was setting.

She nodded and grinned. 

“Just like that, it takes more to break the ship from the current, but once going, the amount required is less.  There are a few spots where it will take more out of me.  Like running up a hill.  Yet there are also areas where my helmsman knows that have less resistance and allow me to rest.  This trip requires a lot of people working together.  Just like a shield wall, we trust each other to do what is required without having to always talk.”

Groa took a few deep breaths and focused, the wind changing slightly as the ship did indeed hit a pace that Einar could somehow sense.

“I don’t want to brag, but I have a higher-than-average mysticism stat.  The only way to increase this is either through a lot of runes that focus on that stat or constantly spending time expending Wyrd.  The more you use it, the more it grows.  Often, people dislike how long it takes. Many warriors fail to realize the importance of that stat as it also allows you to use runes with a higher capacity.  Some runes will be beyond what a warrior can handle, the gains too much.  Kind of like… having a thirty in Agility and a five in Perception.  Whenever that person tries to run as fast as possible, they will trip over themselves, unable to process how fast they were moving.”

Einar laughed, knowing exactly what she meant.  There had been a few times some warriors had been unable to handle the cuts and jumps in a course he set; their Speed was fine, but the ability to process and maneuver was not.

She took a few more deep breaths, and the glow of her runes began to lessen, just slightly noticeable that they were still channeling.

“Now I have reached a state where I have spent many years.  I can hold this pace for all day, provided a storm or something else doesn’t require me to change.  My arms, legs and core are all tight, focusing the power to just my palms. I could choose not to be like this physically, but then the air wouldn’t be as focused and direct.”

Groa’s words reminded him of the two casters against the elite troll.  They had been standing in a way like she was, and their robes had prevented him from seeing exactly how, but now he imagined they were indeed tight like her.

“What is a good mysticism stat for someone who wants to cast rune magic?”

Laughing and rolling her eyes, Groa’s body shook from laughing as she struggled to maintain the form and tightness.

“Don’t make me do that,” she teased. “Most rarely can make me laugh like that, but you’re asking a question, and I know you won’t come right out and say it.  For a warrior, most don’t have a stat over five or six.  I’m guessing you are probably in that range.  

“Typically, a new rune mage will start around an eight and progress from there.  Countless hours are spent each day draining themselves dry and doing it again.  For a warrior, there is a problem with that.”

“Fatigue of the body.”

She nodded, her blue eyes twinkling at the fact Einar already knew the answer.

“Imagine doing battle all day with both your body, mind, and core.  There are limits most won’t push through.  Long ago, the skalds tell of warriors who pushed past those boundaries and were able to use magic and fight at the same time.  How long ago, I am not certain, but there was a time.  Back when we constantly held the other realms in check.”

“Let’s say a warrior was trying to do something like this. Do you have any advice you would give them?”

Frowning, Groa’s head turned till she locked eyes with Einar.

“Be careful.  Train too much, and your body may fail during a fight.  There is a thin line that must be walked as one attempts such a thing.”

She motioned to the barrels and bags they had brought on the ship.

“You eat a lot to sustain yourself.  Imagine eating twice that much, as both your wyrd and body must learn to grow together.  That is why children who are talented in this field are trained from an early age.  The older one gets, the harder it becomes.”

Einar nodded. His research and this moment lined up.  Everything he knew about rune magic had come from casual conversations and a rare glance at a book for an hour.  

Arngrim had shared more information but had told him there would be a time that only one who used wyrd regularly for spells could instruct him more.  

“I appreciate the words of wisdom.  Perhaps if my finances improve enough over the next few years, I may seek you out and look for some guidance.”

Shaking her head, Groa frowned.

“Do not take wind magic.  Fire or ice is better for you as a man.  Most men struggle with the control required for wind magic.  If they master it, the power is great, but the time required to get there may have them bald before it happens.

“Fire burns easily within men.  They get angry, and often, that rage helps to produce deadly results.  Likewise, if you can control the fire, it will help strengthen it.  Men find it easier, often having to learn to control that fiery temper all their life.”

She sighed and then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Ice magic is the middle ground.  Both men and women can harness it almost equally.  The power and potential are there, but weaker than fire or water.”

“And lightning?”

Grinning, displaying her missing tooth, Groa chuckled.

“I wondered if you would seek the god Thor himself and ask that question…”

She paused and focused on the sail, making Einar wonder if she was going to talk or had finished whatever she might say.

“Lightning is dangerous,” she finally said.  “Some say it burns the lifeforce of the holder.  Others say the power is impossible to control.  Is it any wonder that Thor uses a hammer to channel the lightning?  Be careful if you ever see a lightning rune.  You might think it is great, and the price they charge may seem like a bargain, but the amount of power and training required is often more than a man or woman is willing to spend.”

Nodding, Einar waited again.

After another minute of silence, he bowed his head.

“Thank you again, Groa.  Now, with your help, perhaps I can finally deal with the stench of Arn.”

She chuckled and nodded, watching him walk away toward the front of the ship.