Rise of Myth: Heir to Valor

Coasting along the roads towards the woods, it barely took a half hour to reach the perimeter. The longer part of the trip would inevitably be trekking back through the forest. The bike could probably handle just fine through the undergrowth, but without a fixed trail that would lead to Karl's camp, Val did not see much point bothering. He rumbled to a stop near a battered speed limit post and cut the engine, opting instead to transfer much of the saddlebags to a canvas rucksack and finish on foot.

Muninn guided his travel from his shoulder as he walked through the woods, seeming to have a sort of homing sense for Karl and Huginn. Val was appreciating again the rich smell of nature, made only more vibrant by the strong presence of magic in the air. Winter would be truly upon them in a matter of a week; the air felt to be about eleven or twelve degrees Celsius, cold enough to normally want a thicker jacket, but Val had an even higher tolerance for the cold after being made host to Valor's soul. The brown leather jacket remained, but he managed to replace his black shirt and blue jeans with more or less the same articles from the survivor's stock.

It would be about an hour's trek into the woods at Val's leisure walking pace, it was hardly half past two in the afternoon and the sun would remain up for another couple of hours, so he did not mind enjoying the hike for a change. A few days in the ruined city infested with ghouls and the violent intrigue of human affairs, had felt like a couple weeks, not helped much by skipping a couple nights of sleep.

"Hey, Muninn, these woods, why are they so special to Karl?" Val asked curiously.

"Hmm, it is not so much special, as much as this is where you were." Muninn's reply lifted his brows a hair.

"He was looking for me specifically? I had a feeling, but why?"

"His wife suggested the idea to him, she rarely instructs, a suggestion from her is not to be taken lightly. Though he also knows of your ancestors. You are aware of your name, yes?"

"Yeah, some Scandinavian name, nothing too uncommon. I looked it up once, 'Valtyr' is just a really old version of 'Walter' these days."

"You could have some more respect for it, names can be powerful things. You are named after the very god you are now host to, granted, many are named after the Aesir, but you actually are of his distant descent. It is in part a compatibility issue I suspect, my lord strained himself preserving Tyr's soul for so long, but you seem to take to it like fish given water." Muninn explained in a gentle chastising tone.

"What's the deal with his wife anyway? Where is she? Frigg, right?"

"She is an immensely powerful sorceress and oracle, she does not speak of her visions, but she is rarely if ever wrong. She stayed behind when the realm was split, to look after my lord's seat, as he wished to go with the mortal men. After thousands of years, when the two realms were merged again, she reached out to him with only the suggestion to come here and find you. My lord used a considerable amount of what little power he had left to transport us here." Val had a complex look on his face, grateful but also slight guilt for the effort Karl expended on him.


Muninn read his reaction. "Do not worry, regardless of her words, he only ever does as he pleases, for better or for worse. As to your first question, these woods may not be terribly special, but they are old, ancient, strong enough to have weathered the storms that destroyed so much. They are naturally powerful vessels for gathering and concentrating vast amounts of magic, it will not be long before his powers return."

"I see." The pair continued their trek, passing time with idle conversation, commentary about the woods, questions about the Ancient Human empire that seemed to be at war with the survivors. Muninn herself suspected the war was not one of any real intent, rather it likely broke out for the simple reason of two armed groups on the same piece of land they both call their own.

They were about halfway to their destination when Muninn suddenly woke from a seemingly half asleep position on Val's shoulder. She seemed to be staring off into the woods in the direction of their journey.

"Something wrong?" Val noticed the strange sudden behavior, he had seen Huginn do the same thing, whatever it was, it seemed the ravens could sense things he could not, at a much greater distance too.

Muninn replied slowly, like someone answering while still thinking of their words. "Not wrong… But we do have a rather interesting guest."

"Another human?"

"No, an elf."

Val stopped, eying Muninn with a sidelong look. "What?"

"An elf, if I am not wrong, not a half either, a true, pure blooded member of the Elder race of Ljosalfar." She explained.

"What would an elf be doing here?" Val looked serious, his body warming as his battle senses stirred.

"Calm yourself, I do not know why there is an elf here, but I doubt they mean us harm. No elf would raise a hand against my lord, even if they had the power to challenge him in his current state, he is one of their greatest benefactors. Let us proceed, we will know soon enough."

Val picked up his pace, moving quickly through the woods, occasionally bounding between thick roots protruding out of the ground. Still not believing the situation to be entirely safe, he lightly gripped his knives and his sword, checking to ensure he could draw them at a moment's notice. In the span of ten minutes they had reached the clearing, but the sight before them surprised and relieved him. Karl was simply musing to himself as he carved and split enormous wooden logs, the frame of a truly massive Nordic longhouse had been erected, the entire thing would likely cover the space of a third of a football field, but the camp was otherwise the same.

His surprise and relief gave way to shock however, when he noticed the slender figure hidden almost entirely by a dark olive cloak, standing near Karl. Her hood was down, and he recognized her hair and height, even some of her features when she turned in their direction. Jet black hair, sharp, striking features, a fair, almost pale complexion, but her eyes were like emeralds, and her sharp ears protruded through her hair. Overall her ears looked to be perhaps ten inches in length, with a few noticeable marks that looked to be holes for earrings that had either closed up or were not very large to begin with. Val almost in a stupor, his mind filled with vague recollections of the night he first landed a blow against Valor, the woman who gently cleaned his wounds and body of blood. If not for the eyes and the ears he could swear they were the same person, but a moment later she noticed his staring and her sharp brows narrowed.

Karl noticed Huginn turning to note their arrival, and he turned around himself as he set down his tools.

"Val! You have returned! Come! Come! You must be hungry, I shall prepare some food in an hour." The old man was his usual jovial self, if not more so than usual, it seemed the more guests he had, the happier he was, though his new guest looked rather indifferent.

Val approached the camp, trying not to stare as his mind tried to reconcile the two figures. He could not help but repeatedly glance at the elf as his brain screamed at him that they were the same person, as if suggest the remarkable difference of eyes and ears was of no consequence.

"I uh, see you have a guest." Val awkwardly remarked.

"Oh! Yes! You must be understandably surprised, this young lady is another guest of mine for the time being." Karl motioned to the elf, who seemed indifferent to Val but nonetheless introduced herself. Muninn herself hopped off his shoulder, taking a spot near Huginn.

"Do not mislead the boy, my lord. She may pass for a young lady among her own kind, but she has lived a hundred and eighty-three years." Huginn casually added.

The elf paid it little mind. "I am Alevriasha of House Evenwind, you must be Valtyr. I've been told a bit about you." She introduced herself politely enough, but the voice seemed to linger in Val's ears, it could be described as pleasant, perhaps even musical.

*Okay, so they speak English…?* Upon closer inspection, he noted she was something of a ranger or scout. A light brown leather jerkin over a shirt of cotton or perhaps fine wool, hugged her figure, her leggings matched but had sections reinforced with leather save for the joints near her legs and hips, to maintain freedom of movement. Her boots were tightly laced up the back of the calf, almost to the knee, with an inch of heel. The most curious part to him was a pair of ornately patterned daggers almost the length of a shortsword, both hung from her right side. The blades interested him, but Val quickly realized he was being disrespectful.

"Oh, hello, yes, but 'Val' is fine, my full name feels a bit too formal." He replied courteously enough, but the elf raised a disapproving eyebrow, seeming to not be satisfied with shortening a name.
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"Excellent! Everyone is introduced, make yourselves at home, there is wine if you would like, and I will prepare supper soon." Karl laid out a couple bottles, one looked like the ceramic bottle that had mead last time, the other was an actual bottle of red wine, where he had gotten it, Val was not sure.

"I don't have time to stay so long, I'd like to remind you of my task." The elf was not interested in drink, instead regarding Karl with strained patience.

"Yes, yes, and I have told you, I am not leaving here."

"This area is not safe! You saved us once and the Queen wishes to ensure your safety." Alevriasha was almost pleading with Karl.

"Nonsense, it is perfectly safe, so safe in fact I am building a home, see?" Karl was making the familiar yet strange gestures about the frame of his longhouse, most of which did not seem to make any sense besides highlighting the sheer size of it.

"If you will not evacuate the area, then I must advise the Queen to send a regiment to secure it!"

Karl simply shrugged. "If you insist, some more company is always welcome, oh, and if you have any craftsmen available, I am thinking some natural detail and perhaps a motif depicting a favorite tale of mine, along the inside."

Val could almost hear the elf grinding her teeth.

"Relax, stay a while, your journey was a long one, even for one of the fabled Wind Dancers, it was not easy, no? Besides, I assure you that her majesty had no intention of actually convincing me to leave this place. If she was worried for my safety, she would have issued a regiment already. I am confident she simply wished to confirm my presence and send her regards. Your main task is to survey the lands and gather information, is it not?" Karl added with a slightly more serious attitude.

"Even if that were true—" The elf started.

"It is true, if it troubles you so greatly, in the morning Huginn shall play messenger for you, you can trust him with the location." Karl waived a hand dismissively at her protests. Eventually she relented, taking a seat and beginning to brood.

Val circled around towards the ravens. "Hey, didn't you tell me elves and most humans are kind of like, at war? Or were?" He whispered to Muninn.

"That was a long time ago, apparently there has been peace between the two since the First Crusade. I suppose relations were easier to mend after they were both badly broken by conflict." Huginn replied instead.

"Uh huh, okay, got it." Val returned to the fire pit, taking a seat near the elf. He thought about striking up conversation, but she seemed to be in deep thought and her mood was bordering on outright hostility. After sitting there awkwardly for a bit, he decided to go practice his sword a distance away from the camp, needing to make up for the morning training he missed. He noticed that the clearing had grown larger, it seemed that Karl had taken some of the trees from the immediate area, roots and all.

Val absorbed himself in the sword, flowing through his katas and recalling his duels with Valor. It would be better to practice with him directly, but he wanted to get considerable training in the physical world before he next challenged the one-armed god, lest he subject himself to another session of biting corrections. Valor was an efficient instructor in a sense, if a bit brutal in some of his methods.

From a distance, Karl had set down his work and was observing with satisfaction and a strange fondness in his one eye.