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    • The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen
      • Book 1: Einarr Stigandersen and the Jotünhall
      • Book 2: Einarr and the Oracle of Attilsund
      • Book 3: Einarr Stigandersen and the Allthane’s Masquerade
      • Book 4: Einarr and the Demon Fleet
      • Book 5: Einarr and the Tower of Ravens
      • Book 6: The Isle of the Forgotten
      • Book 7: Einarr and the Crimson Shroud
      • Book 8: Einarr and the Shining Valkyrie
      • Book 9: Einarr and the Wolf’s Flame
      • Book 10: Einarr and the Ice Wolf
      • Book 11: Einarr and the Island of Thorns
      • Book 12: Einarr and the Paths of Stone
      • Book 13: Einarr and the Demon of Nilthiad
      • Book 14: Einarr and the Razing of the North
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Tag: Einarr will probably never be comfortable using magic like this

14.22 – Rune Work

Posted on 2022-02-182022-02-22 by allene

The one upside to being in the killing field, as far as Einarr could tell, was that the flaming arrows were also pelting the cultists they fought. Such a consolation was cold, however, with he and his men being beset in three different ways. The abomination, though weakened, still fought viciously, and the late-arrived team on the edge of the field was pressed hard by the cursed warriors and the knights who directed them.

Making matters worse, that did not seem to be ordinary fire the arrows were lit with – although it had the ordinary color, thank the gods. Patches of the ground itself seemed to burn.

Jorir drove his axe head once more into the deep wound they had opened into the side of the abomination. “Fall back! We need your sorcery more than we need your sword right now!”

Einarr hopped backwards twice, a scowl etched on his face. Jorir was right: they had not enough men on the field to deal with everything that they faced, and much like at the harbor at Breidelstein they needed to do something to knock the enemy off balance. So, as much as he hated it, Einarr once again withdrew from the melee. He did not make for where he had drawn the ward that currently slowed the abominable bird. Instead, he dashed erratically towards the walls of the fortress. If I can just rattle the defenders, he thought, perhaps we can turn this around… Rattle. I say, I wonder just how well-built this tower is.

Walking along the base of the wall, his back pressed against the stone as he moved, every few steps Einarr stooped to draw a single rune: ár, the rune of earth. If he could collapse the tower, he might end this battle here and now. If he could not collapse the tower, he should at least put a stop to the fiery arrows. Some of the archers at the top of the tower may have realized what he was up to, but it hardly mattered. He was too close, and they did not have the angle to fire at him.

When the circle was nearly complete he heard the sound of two sets of feet pounding across the open courtyard towards him. A glance up in the direction of the battle showed one of the knights headed straight for him, and Irding crossing the space to cut off the knight. Einarr could not afford to worry about Irding: the man was reckless, but a fight such as that should not be beyond him, and Einarr had a task to complete.

Steel rang against steel and the cries of battle echoed across the courtyard, but at last the circle was finished. Einarr stooped one more time and laid his hands on the flagstone at the base of the tower. He willed the circle to life and momentarily felt dizzy. He could not tell if this was from overuse of runes or from the tremor that wracked the ground beneath his feet. Either way, it was time to withdraw.

He was halfway across the courtyard, passing Irding’s duel with the lone knight on his way to the beleaguered team on the edge, when a lucky arrow pierced his calf. He sprawled face-first on the ground and looked over his shoulder. Somehow, his trousers had not yet caught in spite of the flame flickering on the arrow shaft. He reached back and tugged the arrow free, and the blood from the wound was still the proper color.

Einarr could see at a glance that the wound itself was not that bad – except that it would slow him down, and if he rejoined the melee now his men would feel obliged to protect him. Jorir was more right now than he had been before: Einarr would have to rely on the runes for this battle.

The tower still rumbled as the ground beneath it continued to quake. The hail of arrows had not – yet – ceased, although it had slowed dramatically, and those that did still fly went wild.

Irding had gotten inside the talon knight’s guard and was making life difficult for him, although the fact that they still fought meant the knight was no slouch. They were, however, far too close to where Einarr had fallen for comfort: Einarr sat up and tore a strip of cloth from his hem. He wrapped the torn fabric about his leg and tied it then drew a hasty mathr rune to keep it from bleeding any more.

The rumbling around the tower grew louder, and men from the ramparts began to cry out in alarm. Einarr glanced over at his handiwork to see that the tower was now visibly swaying. Just a little bit more should bring it down. Unfortunately, Einarr could not spare the attention to feed more power into the earthquake.

The talon knight got the haft of his spear around behind Irding’s legs and dropped him to his back on the ground. For a moment, Irding lay panting on his back – he must have had the wind knocked out of him, or he’d have been back on his feet immediately. The knight raised the butt of his spear: in another moment, he was going to plunge it down into Irding’s throat.

Einarr brought his chalk up, intending to trip up the knight in turn with some icy ground. Irding, though, was not out yet: he brought both feet up into the air and did a spin-kick worthy of a Hallingdanse. Now he was standing and the knight was on his back. Less than a heartbeat later, an axe was buried in the knight’s throat.

Einarr stood, a little more slowly than usual thanks to his wounded leg, and faced a panting Irding. “Well fought.”

The Son of Erik answered with a cocky grin. “You, too. Not over yet.”

That was very true. While he’d been occupied, a fifth team had made it to the killing field, but the boost to their numbers was more than undone by the two squads of talon knights that had appeared elsewhere on the field. Furthermore, Troa, Arkja, and Jorir still hadn’t managed to destroy the abomination. All of this, and they hadn’t even managed to get inside yet. Einarr frowned, then tore another strip of cloth from his tunic. This one he inscribed with kaun and wrapped about the head of an arrow plucked from the ground. The talon knight supplied a bow.

“Watch my back.”

“Aye, sir.”

Now Einarr drew back a bow, taking aim on the abomination his friends still battled. The ᚲ roared to life, and he sighted along its length at the struggling monstrosity. His arrow flew straight and true, and moments later the creature began to shriek and flap about in an obvious panic as its feathers, and even its flesh, began to burn.

 

 

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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.

 

Posted in Einarr Stigandersen, RazingTagged Arkja, Einarr Stigandersen, Einarr will probably never be comfortable using magic like this, Irding, Jorir, Rune magic is still OP, runes, TroaLeave a comment

8.18 – Jailbreak

Posted on 2019-10-09 by allene

Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

The jailer stood in the center of the guard room like a bulldog, as though at any minute he expected intruders to burst in. He also looked significantly healthier than the flesh-puppets they had seen elsewhere in the citadel. He was still alive, plainly, although probably not, Einarr thought, the first to succumb.

Not that he could still be mistaken for human anymore, either, though. His eyes were pupil-less red orbs, and his skin was darker than a human’s should be. He had hands, still, and stood with his thumbs tucked into the belt of his trousers… but where one expects to see fingers, there were octopus-like tentacles.

The Kraken evidently doesn’t do subtle. “I think we’ve been noticed,” Einarr whispered. “Eydri, if we stop our ears, do you think a lullaby would work on him?”

Her face was pale as she stared at the abomination. “How should I know?” she spluttered. “I’ve never dealt with this before!”

Einarr hummed. “And the cult didn’t use Singers at all – who knows why. Fine. If we can’t knock him out, we’ll have to kill him.”

His hand traveled to Sinmora’s hilt, but then he thought better of it. The last thing he wanted was to be doused in the black blood again. “Hrug, give me a hand, will you?”

The sorceror grunted his acknowledgement and stepped forward, trading places with Liupold.

“Lightning, or fire?” Fire was still tricky, although the outright prohibition had been lifted since the destruction of the Muspel Shroud, and Lightning was also Sun, which could be advantageous.

Hrug apparently agreed, pumping his fist to simulate a lightning strike.

“Lightning it is, then. Rambert, Burkhart, open the door and stand clear when I give the word. Naudrek, Liupold, watch our backs. Leave this to us.”

It took them a good five minutes before they were satisfied, but when they were finished three ranks of lightning runes were inscribed on the floor, from wall to wall. “There. That should do it. Everyone ready?”

“Just waiting on you,” Burkhart answered.

“Good.” Einarr looked over his shoulder. “Stand clear, everyone. This is going to be bright. …And, now.”

The two oarsmen opened the doors and scrambled back. As soon as the way was clear, just as the jailer’s lips curled up in a snarl, Einarr and Hrug lit off the first pair of lightning runes. The second pair followed immediately on the first, so that it almost looked like four at once.

When the flash cleared, the abomination was shaking its head. It looked singed, and a little stunned, but Einarr hadn’t expected it to go down easily. Four more lightning bolts flashed, and the smell of ozone and burning hair assaulted their noses. Four more followed before the smoke had cleared, and then four more hard on the heels of that.

They paused again at the end of the first row of runes on the floor to let the smoke clear. It was important to know if their target had moved, after all.

The abomination was on its hands and knees, swinging its head back and forth as it tried to come to its feet. Einarr did not spare the attention to see how the rest of his party was taking this, but Hrug looked a little surprised. An ordinary man, after all, would be hard pressed to have lived through even half of that.

Einarr remembered fighting the horrors, and the cultists who had unmasked themselves, too well. After having confirmed that their enemy still lived, he called “Again!”

It was brutal. At the end of the third rank of runes, when their enemy was nothing more than a charred husk on the floor, Einarr felt sick. It was good that runecraft was not suited to open battle, for that was not a death he would wish on his worst enemy. That was an execution of a rabid dog, in the only safe way they could think to do it. Fire might have been kinder – maybe, if they could have contained it – by being quicker. Better by far to die cleanly, by the sword. Once he had collected himself, he looked down to ensure there were no traces of their runes left behind.

“Someone grab the keys,” he said, striding forward, trying not to look at the corpse.

Liupold seemed less disturbed. It took Einarr a moment to remember why, but then it was obvious. The Empire had developed Painting. No few Clan ships had been destroyed by balls of fire or lightning from clear skies – just as he had done to that creature. The Captain of the Arkona stooped to gingerly unhook the ring of keys from the former jailer’s belt. His voice was calm when he asked “Are you sure the third rank wasn’t overkill? You might have melted these.”

Einarr just shook his head. “We should free the captives and get out of here. Assuming they’re still captives, and not puppets.”

Liupold blanched now and stepped forward into the hall of doors, tossing the keys a little in an attempt to cool them. “My lady? Are you here? Are you unharmed?”

He had looked through the barred windows of three doors before he got an answer. “Yes, I’m here. Who’s there?”

“Liupold of the Arkona, Lady. I’ll have you out momentarily.” He rushed to the door her voice issued from. “Are there any others?”

“I’ve not heard anyone else for more than a week now. I think it’s just me.”

“Impressive that you could track days so well down here, Lady,” Eydri said.

“Who is that?” The voice asked, just as her door swung open.

The woman who stepped forth from the cell was dirty, and her clothes torn, but that could not mask their obvious quality. Her long black hair was still lustrous in spite of the bits of hay sticking out of the thick braid. If Einarr hadn’t known better, he might have believed her to be a Valkyrie herself.

“My lady, allow me to present to you the Cursebreaker, Einarr son of Stigander of the longship Vidofnir, and his companions. Eydri, a Singer of some skill. Naudrek, a swordsman, and the rune sorcerer Hrug.”


Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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.

Posted in Einarr Stigandersen, ValkyrieTagged abomination, Burkhart, corruption zombies, Einarr will probably never be comfortable using magic like this, Eydri, Hrug, Liupold, Naudrek, Rambert, Rune magic is still OP1 Comment

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