Chapitre 91: Born a Monster, Chapter 91 - Pits of Thor
Born A Monster
Chapter 91
Pits of Thor
Whatever faults I lay at the feet of Loki, the Conclave of Thorns does feed its prisoners. I wasn't even the one who needed the most food. It was annoying riding in a cage-cart, unable to forage, but I wasn't at risk of starving to death.
When riding naked in an open cart, evolve yourself a nice layer of blubber. What animal had unlocked that, again? Thank you, nature gods, for evolving that animal. Unless it was a squirrel, in which case, enjoy your laugh.
Faltharch was a mason, an expert at carving designs into walls. He had failed empowering a series of runes, and broken a block containing an inscription to the glory of some church dignitary or other. From him, I learned the basics of rune lore, though not enough to open any enchanter-type class.
Rokantun was a fisherman, but his neighbor had coveted his wife, and so had tricked him into saying in public something about Thor and Loki that probably would have earned him death in a land worshipping Thor as well. From him, I learned the miseries that society could heap upon the poor.
Varrazush was the one I tried to drain knowledge from, even pestering him in his dreams to recreate his teachers. He was a metallurgist, a scientist who studied the properties of various metals. He knew of smelteries and foundries and had discussed other sciences with his peers.
And then, there was the bozo-ette who walked outside the cage, and tried to talk to everyone, but me in particular. Her name was Chalandoor, and she was a devotee of Loki. She told us about the wonderous devices that her lord had made from mistletoe, including a spear to strike down Baldur, some manner of fame-stealing buffoon who had made Loki look bad.
To hear her tell of it, the gods were unable to destroy the spear, so instead had managed to merge it into the Legendary Spear. I cannot verify or deny this legend, beyond saying that when I achieve godhood, I'm going to take better measure of how to dispose of weapons that can kill me.
Oh, and she intended to jump into the Pit of the Valkyrie as proof of her faith.
"Praise the name of Loki for your faith, Valkyr." Valkyr is the name for a warrior-sister of the faith.
"Why do you still praise the name of Loki? You are in here like the rest of us." Rokantun said.
"And keeping your body strong with exercise." Faltharch added.
"I say you're wasting not just your time, but ours by trying to learn." Varrazush said.
"But I'm not trying, I'm actually learning. The scientific method alone is something I can treasure all the days of my life."
"Few though those days might be." Faltharch said.
"It won't help you survive the fall into the Pits. With luck, we'll die on the bottom."
"Chalandoor? How do they clean the Pits? Or should we expect to be thrown onto the broken bodies of those before?"
"I don't know the specifics, but yes, the pits are cleaned, glory to Loki."
"Praise be to his name."
"And why praise the god who's going to kill us?" Rokantun said.
"Why should I hold the god responsible for the actions of his followers? I'd hate all of them, if I did that."
Varrazush sniffed, huddled under his blanket. "I think that if they all hate us, we lose nothing by hating them back."
#
It was five days by cart, counting the number of times that we had to get out and free the wheels from gravel. Honestly, they were marginally better than the mud trails used on the other side of the Daggers.
"There was a time when there were cobblestones, but the peasants always pick them out of the road for their own usage." Rokantun said.
"Why not just provide them the ability to buy the stones they need?" I ask.
"What peasant would pay for stone when they can steal it for free?" Rokantun said. "And I guarantee you, nobody who works in a quarry does so for free."
"Slaves do. I know I wouldn't turn down a life of breaking stone if it were offered to me."
"Forever?" I asked. "The rest of my life could be a long time."
"Not the way those Loki-scorched overmasters run their mines."
I noticed that Chalandoor was not within earshot. "Praise to his name."
"Wasted breath is wasted heat. You really ought not to do that."
What did they know of cold? It wasn't even snowing yet. I guess I envied them their soft lives, free of the actual challenges of living.
But – I had more than I needed to survive. I'd only earned two of my classes through hard work, right? The rest was just based on an oath that I took to survive, the backlash of which had pretty much left me insane for three days.
The stench of Sulphur Springs precluded all thoughts except how to breathe in a way that minimized the discomfort. The air stung the eyes, and burned the nostrils, and savaged the lungs. And that was all when it was cold.
Faltharch compared it to salt burn. Rokantun complained the smell was worse than three-day old fish. Varrazush just wept silently, save for one prayer that his wife was happy and Loki would watch over his children.
"I hear that the air in this place can inspire holy visions. All this inspires in me, great Loki, is the stench of rotted eggs!" She had plugs, possibly of beeswax, to insert into her nose. So did our drovers, but they had put theirs in this morning, and suffered less for it.
All of them wore bandanas, generously soaked in alcohol.
Loki, like most gods, permits folk of all kinds to lessen their own burdens.
And I could see why a volcano would be a place a fire god would found a holy site, in fact, most of the foul smoke drained…
Into a saddle-shaped depression, with a lake nourished by drain water from yellowed snow. From the Daggers.
Hortiluk had come from here, from Sulphur Springs. From the religious core of the Conclave of Thorns.
I had arrived as a criminal to be executed.
I invented no new words, but I mixed languages in ways they were not intended to mingle.
#
"Let us not waste time, let us hurry to the Pits." Chalandoor urged. "We can be there for first dawn."
"When Loki's fire first touches the horizon?" I asked.
Chalandoor tittered, not quite a giggle. "Sunna, or Sol, is the goddess of the sun, and she and Mani, god of the moon, are both children of the Muspilhiem, giants of fire, even as our lord is child of the Jotunhiem, the giants of frost. Tomorrow is the first day of the Week of Snow, and thus the second best time for my test of faith."
"The best being dawn on the first day of winter?"
"Indeed. But that means to wait a week, and really, won't the festival be that much more enjoyable, having passed my trial?"
"You have high hopes in your odds of success. Might this be information that we ourselves could use?" Faltharch asked.
"I wonder, what CAN you tell us of the pits?" Varrazush asked.
"Well, there are three. The pit of the stolen forge, where one jumps into lava, and swims to the ramp up. That one sometimes erupts, and is recommended only for the purest in body and mind. I … I am humble, and will not be making that leap today. The pit chosen by the strong, by warriors, is the pit of the Einherjar, a warrior who eats all he slays, even their bones. I will not be choosing that pit. Then, there is the pit of the Valkyrie, Reiganhilde. All Valkyr must take the journey into that pit, and only if they survive the tainted fury of Reiganhilde are they confirmed as champions of the faith."
"Well, none of those sound especially survivable." Rokantun said.
"Indeed. We are doomed." Faltharch said.
"Well, if that's true, I'd like to thank each of you for the knowledge you have imparted to me."
"Off is the general direction in which you can piss." Rokantun said.
We spent a cold and miserable night, hoping the cart wasn't pushed into one of the Pits. It wasn't.
"Any of you want a specific Pit?" asked the sergeant of our execution detail.
Rokantin chose to run, and got well over a dozen paces; he also took more than a dozen arrows from that first volley. He was dead before the second.
"I'd like the pit of the Forge. My remains will be cremated, and not desecrated." Varrazush decided.
"I will take the pit of the Valkyrie." I said. "Over here by where the Valkyr is to jump?"
He shrugged. "The last one to survive the trial was over twenty years ago. Before her, thirty. I see them every year."
I never learned how Faltharch chose to die.
They removed the manacles from my wrists and ankles.
"Shall we jump together?" Chalandoor asked.
We jumped into what looked, from above, like a miniature storm.
#
[You have received twelve points of Concussive damage; after armor, twelve points have been taken. 18/30 health remain.]
Concussive damage, or wave damage, bypasses things like my scales, designed to resist Blunt, Puncture, and Slash.
We slid down the walls to the floor, covered in a thin layer of water.
[You have entered an aura of Electrical damage. You will take 1 damage every minute you are within this Aura.]
I didn't even need to be a Shaman to feel the spirit's presence. She was there, and she was the storm, and she was ANGRY.
<Gngnrblefzz.> I sent to her.
<I care not for your discomfort, spawn of my enemies.>
<Sister, please care for mine. If you must kill the heathen, at least let us conduct ourselves with civility between each other.>
<Heathen? THIS one is an outcast of Loki?>
There was a jolt through the water.
<If you would survive this, prove you are my sister. Join my party, and let me look through your soul. So many are not.>
And she looked, for a good four minutes. "Beneath the waters, you will find chips of greenish stone that shock you to touch. Hold one to your third eye, in your forehead."
The backwash from the Kiss of the Valkyrie did six damage to me.
"I wish you a swift death, little heathen. It is a pity I could not convert you." She began ascending along a thin ramp of stone, set into the walls.
<So, do you have any final words?>
<TRUTHSPEAKER>
<That is a terrible last word, little horror.>
<If you can enter dreams, I can take you past the ward of this place.>
<Also terrible last words. But IF I were listening, and I'm not saying that I am, what did you have in mind?>
And so, with three health points remaining, I limped up the ramp. I limped over to the guards, who were rapidly discussing something. I limped over to them.
"Survivors of the trials are free to go?" I asked.
"Such is the law of Loki."
"Praise be to his name." I limped toward the gatehouse, almost made it.
They closed the gate.
There were bowstrings being strung. Crap
I focused on myself, and cast "Slumber."
I entered the realm of dreams. Reiganhilde came out into the real world.
I awoke later that day, with [Severe Injury – neural damage], and [Severe Injury – cracked teeth].
I just got those back!
There were two charred rams on the rocks beside me. On the other side, a natural hot springs boiled away.
I spared enough of the hide to fashion clothes from later. Tendons, shard of bone, the basic tools.
Interesting evolutions, as promised, and enough biomass to start the healing process.
So… no money, and an urgent need to get back into Sulphur Springs.
Dang, it. I couldn't even see….
Oh, setting sun.
I was on the wrong side of the volcano.
#
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