Chapter 7
Gryr’s mind had worked and reworked what the boar was as he made his way to his master’s shop. After Olfed was full of Frey’s pie, the two had walked the young boy to his home.
I have never seen a boar that big, let alone that color. Gryr was in a trance as the world around drifted away, his feet moved from instinct alone, but his mind raced with what could be in the forest he lived within. Maybe it’s a curse? A witch has moved in? Gryr scoffed at his own imagination. He knew there was no such thing as witches or curses. The only thing to fear was Flicker, more so those that abused it. He pondered once more on the beast that haunted his mind.
“Oye, boy, the shops closed.”
Gryr almost missed the voice as he came to his home.
What? Who- Two of Jarl Belrot’s guards starred Gryr in the face as he came to his surroundings. The leathers they wore were draped in deep brown cloaks, customary of Jarl Belrot’s colors. Pinned to each of their shoulders was a silver symbol of a hawk’s talons, Belrot’s family crest. Gryr’s eyes quickly flashed to the barn doors that strangely were closed shut. What is happening?
“Eh, you deaf?” The second guard spat into the air. Gryr noticed his nose had seen one too many fists.
“No…” He focused on what was happening. He was smarter than this, but why couldn’t he see the picture? He knew Jarl Belrot’s shipment was going to be collected today, but he had been through hundreds of those, it was usually faster than it took a man to eat. “I am Taybus’s apprentice. What’s going on?” Maybe not the best approach.
The guards’ faces answered Gryr’s concern. Both stared at one another and then back at him, but with a darker reflection.
“Inside…now.” The lanky pretty faced guard hissed.“Don’t make us say it twice.” The large punching bag cracked his glove covered knuckles.
Even if Gryr wanted to run, he wouldn’t have made it far. Both men were completely covered in clothing, it was a tell tale sign of Flicker. As Flicker consumed the person with each use, you could see what Flicker they had before their eyes gave them away. Most warriors that cared about disadvantages covered themselves.
Gryr locked eyes with Taybus as he entered the shop. He didn’t need to read minds to know that they both shared the same thought. Shit.
“Welcome…Gryr, isn’t it?”
Chapter 8
It was a strangely cold morning in Frinte as Kit began her morning ritual. Ever since she had been a child she had always been interested in the religious world that surrounded her. Though, she did admit that as she got older, her mindset took a more spiritual route. Of course, she believed in Othen and held faith with him, but her deepest beliefs were tied to the energy that flowed within the living world around her.
Kit sat on a handmade pillow from her mother, before her was an altar that radiated with Kit’s own touches and nicknacks. With focus on her mind she lit a long used candle that she placed in the center of the wooden surface.
“For the seven I light this flame, for the six, I give myself.” Her breath slowed as she focused her mind.
“Fire Rune.” Kit placed a charred piece of wood on the altar.
“Frost Rune.” Her hand gently placed a small bowl of water. To Kit, the intention was more powerful than the item, she used the water as a focus point.
“Strength Rune” Her father had found a large stone that was shaped like a pyramid.
“Tempest Rune.” Kit produced a small piece of piercing blue glass. It was the only item on her altar of notable worth. During lightning storms, rare bolts could hit the sand. The destructive force created gorgeous sculptures of bright blue glass, and Kit had been lucky enough to find a merchant that had one piece left in stock.
“Death Rune.” Kit adjusted the skull that was on her altar. It was a rabbit’s skull, but still carried the weight of death.
“Life Rune.” Her fingertips lightly played with the leaves of the small plant she cared for in her room. It’s leaves were covered in a deep emerald up to its tips, where the faintest pinks appeared.
The young woman closed her eyes as she focused on the six runes. Most people paid the majority of their attention to Othen, but to Kit, she found that there was a balance between the seven, possibly even more power among the six runes.
“For Othen.” Kit paused as she played with the trinket in her hands. An ornately carved wooden spoon rested in her cradled palms as she smiled. She couldn’t think of anything more appropriate for the father of all than her own fathers item. It was the last thing he carved before they moved to Frinte. As she worked the wood of the handle with her thumb, she realized it was the last thing he carved, ever.
With a final breath she placed the spoon in front of the candle and paused. Please. Kit released the thought she concentrated on and pinched the dancing flame of the candle. To Kit, what she did wasn’t mystical at all, for her, she viewed it as a centering point. Before she even had an altar, she simply used an old rock to focus on as the days grew more strenuous.
Kris Writes Worlds 
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