Merlin 3:19 “Valkyrja”
The afternoon at even parts of dusk and daunting morrow, after the shade of common clouds dost Merlin and Nick come to see the quaintness of a normal and small abode, which within itself has harbored evil and atrocities, a bloodbath of evil song of cremating creature souls. Soot of mortality stains the fireplace used for alchemy in deranged spells and barbarous animal sacrifices, summoning nefarious raw organs from the shade dimensions, wrest from bellies of snakes, corpulent with newborn maggots, all pieces of a totalitarian concoctive hex or spell. Wickedness brews by the wizard unbeknownst, vacant of this quiet hovel disturbingly silent, Merlin and Nick are near this place.
The voice of a child nearby shouts objection, but alarms abruptly end silenced before any can see unlawful abduction, heretofore Nick thinking it is youthful disturbance, Merlin bearing concern turns corner to see egregious imposition. A seemingly young felon, the nefarious alchemist of black arts just mentioned, puts the sleeping boy on a cart and covers him with hay and tows in stray, Merlin gets closer as does a ready hunter Nick, and follow both of they behind them unto that smallish domicile with a thatch roof. The kidnapper walks backwards into his confines with the child in his arm. Merlin immediately stops himself and Nick from entering after seeing the wings of a Valkyrie within its walls. Halting behind defilade of corner and wall, Nick taps Merlin on his chest and points to another man approaching the house of straw. Within these confines, Valkyries watch him enter.
Gareth (Geirahöð) (V1): “I have taken many to heaven, but those of darkness are stayed, reborn to suffer their sin.”
Laramie: “From on high and yet you speak as if never low.”
There is a second Valkyrie in the room, Laramie turns around to look if free to escape and sees a man outside walking to him, footsteps slowing and averse, a solitary stride with oddly broad shoulders that make him look slender and quite tall, these are merely wings folded and wrapped beneath a large woolen hooded cloak.
Laramie: “I have important work to do, you mustn’t interrupt it,” speaking loudly as if to warn.
Swede (Sveið) (V2): “It is such a nauseating thing to hear lies, tell me as I ask. Who bids you do this work, or, where can we find him, that I may let you live.”
Laramie: “Him, it was him, there, he that gives me benefice, I had no choice in matters.”
Gareth: “Good, we’re getting somewhere. No, don’t run, you are safe.”
Lucifer (V3): “Stop toying with it.”
Gareth (Geirahöð) wraps his wings around himself from the resting state, like a longcoat thinly laid, so that he may exit the door simply, and during so puts his hand on Laramie’s shoulder and escorts him several paces, determined to keep the human as hostage. The countenance of lightning empowers these Valkyrie, their very sinews comprised of it, keeps the air around them dry. Merlin spectates with astonishment and the silence as doth cemeteries.
Lucifer: “Relinquish all quarrel, I am doing the chief god’s work, there is nothing to fear, Geirahöð.”
Gareth: “I know you are not, that you seek to carve these things, without their battle death, in hope to become a demiurge.”
Lucifer: “Then you understand I need that alchemist.”
Gareth (Geirahöð) looks to Lucifer and to Laramie, and once more to Lucifer while drawing his sword swift and silently with the true-whispered song of war. Lucifer appears to know what happens next as Gareth (Geirahöð) puts the blade thru the human’s chest, lifting the body as it screams and leans back on Gareth’s arm as the winged soldier uses its other hand to prop the dead villain like a puppet as the fresh corpse slides open on the blade. As hilt nears heart and feet to rest, the ground pools with his blood, moments by, tossing the body effortlessly, he swings the blade almost clean of blood then sheathes.
Gareth: “Did you have any other requests?”
Lucifer: “Look at this fresh hell we scour for obeisance. Tell those who fight for Valhalla to war and they spill every drop of blood in this field of the host, so much other creatures feed from our mere bloodshed. I have not come here to fight.”
Gareth: “Nor have I, sibling, nor have I.”
Lucifer: “You again call me family?”
Gareth: “Hadst you been so far you could only sense me?”
Swede: “You do not deserve to fly.”
Lucifer: “If I wasn’t meant to fly, than why do I have these wings?”
Lucifer turns and runs, shedding his cloak he spreads his wings and flies, while taking great strides and stripping his outer raiment, Swede (Sveið) stops leaning in the architrave and tears joyfully thru the doorjamb frame in exiting to chase a fearful Lucifer, Merlin all the while trying to watch without exposure.
Nick hides poorly and Merlin wishing him to hide better grabs at him, but all Nickolas sees is the building reach forward in grand illusion, for wizardly mage has cast a spell that cloaks his visibility, if from a distance vantage. As if covered in water that is made of the wood and colors thru him, in the moment that it startles Nick the magic assuages all vision of him, all so with Merlin’s whispering assurance.
Merlin: “It is me, shut it fie.”
Nick looks thru his hand, a quite blurry vision much more clouded than bottler’s glass, with the very faint display of his blood like rivers on a map. Gareth (Geirahöð) turns as if to look directly at them, making disconcerting stares at Nickolas. As the immortal’s eyes leave his hand they sojourn in memories of concealment when he last had disposition near a Valkyrie, if he had met the vaguely familiar face of Lucifer ere, then into the poignant glare of Gareth’s (Geirahöð) eyes. He lifts his foot to leave, but is halted by Merlin who pulls the brim of his pointed hat over his eyes, if discovered he would be in hopes for curiosity and anonymity. Gareth (Geirahöð) turns and kicks the body of the villain thru air and into building before lifting arms wide open as the wicker hovel spontaneously sets afire. Gareth (Geirahöð) spreads his wings and flies strongly, first with back to ground, turning in flight to follow the second and third Valkyries.
All wings are on wend, Nick stares at the fire and notices that nearby two ravens, uncharacteristically large for blackbirds, even for their species. Merlin lifts his hand from Nick’s shoulder and the spell of camouflage breaks.
Nick: “Look, Merlin, their cawing all hell.”
Merlin: “How very poetic considering the unkindness you just saw is their calling.”
Nick: “Dammit so much, what see you now?”
Merlin pays proper attention to the burning home, the ravens hop close to the broken burning doorway inspecting the body, as the smoke rises from the home at the edge of this town the folk come to notice, a person running thru the street discovering the building turns and runs aback for help and likely water. One of the ravens turns to notice the person advance and retreat from the blaze, turning back and hopping to aside the other jet bird. One bird balks at the other, the sound masked by the rising commotion, dancing flames in the air, and crackling of wood immolation.
Standing against the flames, with the spoken bird’s eye at them, the listening bird turns to look directly at the wizard and forester, Merlin grabs his hat brim and leaves turning without dragging his feet, and Nick to follow. As the villagers come, the birds depart.
The townsfolk proscribe to the simplicities of commonalities and regularities to bide time while the fires fought and wayfarers walk a wandering way to wend at warriors and watch wisely for warring, dismayed they approach another pub to find their family, and that happens.
Thru window they watch Braden and the others convivially drown their gullets with fine ales as others enjoy the sweet breath of the cold smoke, no sight of spies in drink abstention and malcontent, a perpetually indemnified pleasure and joviality in gathering of young hearts and old minds. Nick gauges the ardent esoteric who stands to rally his fellow drinkers, whom hereby Ana knows.
Digr: “As I am wise, Agnar is stronger than all who rumor falseties.”
Ana: “You mean fallacies.”
Digr: “Wait your turn with my fallacy.”
Ana: “Till your tent falls?”
Digr: “No, no, if this galoot can lift a war hammer, he can lift the, ‘tear of Odin.’”
Katy: “Is game his earth magic make Jotunn arm disembodied.”
Digr: “Is men have I am princess.”
Braden backhands Digr in the stomach for mocking Katyenka and the entertainment begins, the stoic Agnar puts his hand on the table with open palm, and Digr puts the handle of a silver dagger into it. Digger puts both of hands on the table, stares at the blade while telling Agnar to begin, and with earthen magic begins to mystically add weight to the silver as Agnar wrestles it while spoken wagers begin. The mighty Agnar holds the handle with fingers clenched around it, to keep the blade from his palm and to avoid dropping the blade onto the table. Ana in glancing notices in her periphery Nick standing at the window, seeing her notice him he walks into the tavern. Braden notices her looking and thinks it melancholy and thus to garner her, he makes the silver metal hot in Agnar’s hand, Merlin follows from-beneath the clouding sky to the interior commotion.
Tho lifting slightly the white silver blade, Digr intently focused, Agnar sensing the undue influence drops the blade in submission. The blade blackens the table in heated contact and smolders in small effect.
Agnar: “Why burn, milady?”
Ana: “It was not I, your pastor did that.”
She and all to her side of the table see Merlin approach, subsequently he throws a drink on the heated blade causing it to simmer, and he throws a fabric over it, cautious more of their contempt that be of may unruly and further alarming to numbering men who protest magic.
Merlin: “Such deeds are not always legal where we are, power divine and here, and halcyon of our beginnings shan’t bring you back from ghosts.”
Pushing Digr aside, Merlin takes a seat at the head of the table. The strangers are quiet, but not more curious than for any other. Nick stands waiting on either Ana to stand, Agnar to move from beside her, or some combination thereof these things.
Merlin: “Tell me, Braden, why this nowhere I ask you.”
Braden: “From here we travel north along the west side of the mountains.”
Nick: “Where from here do you travel, to the frozen dessert?”
Braden: “From here a spine of mountains impassable, to southeastern rocky road is a corner of Midgard covered in arid badlands and in the wrong direction, so we travel north and long around the frozen dessert, to the east.”
Merlin: “That sounds remarkably dull and exhausting. Now someone buy me a drink before I earache my eye.”