Chapter 1 - A Plea
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A Plea
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"Go away, little man," Rask grunted at the creature who'd dared to dog a bergsr?'s footsteps for the past three days. "Big storm coming. Rask's mountain no place for you."
Limned by moonlight, the human stepping cautiously out from behind the knobbled trunk of the ancient pine looked nothing like the figure Rask first spotted trailing his goats on the far side of the ridge.
Once, the tunic he wore had been the light blue of a morning sky, and whole.
His dark hair and beard had been sleek and tidy; his rucksack full; his eyes bright.
That had been quite some time ago, however.
Now, after chasing Rask's path up and down and through some of the mountain's worst terrain, the man's gaze was wary and tired; his pack gone; all of him mud-streaked and ragged.
Standing there in the tall summer grass, the human looked about as stubborn as the most mischievous little goat of Rask's herd, and twice as disreputable.
Rask grinned to himself. That first day he had assumed the human was merely lost; following Rask's goats under the simple logic that, because they were behaved and well-fed, they must obviously belong to someone.
Someone who might be able to help a confused traveler.
Or at the least, direct him to the nearest village.
By the second day, it had become obvious it wasn't the goats the human was following, but Rask himself.
For what reason, Rask did not care. It had been amusing leading the stubborn little man in circles around and about Rask's mountain each night; up this ravine and down that cliff, always staying three steps out of view.
Even better though, might've been the days.
How the man would squawk and search fruitlessly for his quarry; the bergsr?'s trail gone cold as stone in the Daybringer's stark light.
Hidden in plain sight, Rask had chuckled sleepily to himself, watching the human hunt 'round and 'round the big rock in the middle of the clearing.
Had the man ever suspected the boulder he'd leaned against under his meager shelter of pine boughs, was the very creature he sought?
But the wind carried with it the scent of rain now, heavy and wild; reminding him the warmth of a hearth was too long forgotten by his bones.
And Rask's goats had done nothing to deserve being caught out in the midst of a summer storm, either.
Not even the runty male with the broken horn.
It was time to end this game; send the human back down the mountain to somewhere safe, where he belonged.
"Please, I need your help," the little human bleated, as if he hadn't heard the bergsr?'s warning. "I'm a mason down at the quarry. There's been another accident."
"Humans very fragile, Man's Son. Rask cannot help that."
“No, it's — " The human scrubbed his face and took a deep breath. He looked tired. Rask felt somewhat responsible.
"The thane's started blaming the workers,” the human said. “Says they're being careless.”
“Humans often careless, too.”
“Maybe,” the bewildering man agreed, even as he shook his head 'no'.
“But I've known these men all my life. The last was a young man from my village who courted my sister all the past year.
We expected to hear word any day that he'd bent his knee to plight his troth.
Now the healer's saying that leg won't ever be right again, if he doesn't lose it entirely. "
"So?" Rask huffed, eyes flicking to the clouds to gauge how long they had.
Not long. The human needed to get moving.
"So," the human echoed. "Lars grew up in the quarry as a water boy before Pa apprenticed him to one of the stone-bankers.
That kid could scramble over our scaffolding better'n any of your goats.
No way he mis-stepped — not with such a clean cut across the planks.
I think it's something else. I think someone's upset the quarry’s vaettir.”
Looking up sharply, Rask squinted at the tiny human before glancing down the slope of the mountain. The quarry's ugly white scar was visible even from here, glowing bright under the light of the triple moons as they hunted. Around that pale patch, the chords of the Song warbled alarmingly.
Rask frowned. The magic should rightfully flow in harmony over and through the world. Instead, it was twisting about itself in a discordant snarl, struggling to avoid a flutter of tension; the spirits of the quarry producing a series of sour notes, like an instrument out of tune.
And Rask had missed it.
He didn't come to this side of his mountain anymore. He hadn't meant to today, either, but he'd been distracted by his game of cat and mouse with the human.
The snarl was still small, but it would not stay that way for long. The humans no doubt would continue banging and sawing at whatever had caused it, just as they always did. And come Mistide, any damage they didn't manage, the thurs would.
Rask sighed in irritation.
"Something wrong," Rask admitted at the man's questioning expression. "What humans do?"
"How should I know?" the man asked. "We're a small village of stoneworkers, not mages.
All three of the local priests made a big show of invoking their gods, but not a one of 'em saved that lad from his fall.
We've tried leaving out offerings, but they're still there the next morning, untouched.
If it really is just a spate of bad luck, then — that's how it goes sometimes, I guess. But if it’s something to do with the vaettir…
There's got to be a way to fix it, right? "
"Yes," Rask answered him, considering the snarl. "If humans willing to pay price. Or humans move. Find different valley, build new village. Cause problems there."
"But — " the man turned to Rask, his eyes wide. "This valley's our home!"
"For now."
"What's that supposed to mean?" the man asked, his expression darkening.
Rask shrugged. "Before, it was not. After, maybe not again."
"You say that like you want us gone."
"If humans gone, then not snarling the Song. Less work for Rask."
"Seems rather heartless," the man said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wanting everyone dead just to play some music?"
"Not dead," Rask corrected him. "Somewhere else. Away from Rask's mountain. Humans make trouble. Pile up sticks and roads and beds in places they should not be; disturbing the Song, drowning out the magic. Bad neighbors. Messy. If humans go, vaettir stop being unhappy. Then not Rask's problem."
"But… it is Rask's problem now?"
"…Yes."
"And Rask can do something to help?"
Rask sighed again, deeper. "Yes."
"Great!" the little human said brightly, looking around the glade. "So…where should I look for him?"
And oh, for a moment there? Rask was sorely tempted to tell this man his target was on the other side of the mountain.
Or dead. Or perhaps the name of one of the goats, if only to see what he would do.
But instead, Rask thumped his chest, the sound heavy and hollow like a drum.
"Man's Son does not need look. Man's Son has already found. "
"Oh! Er…you're Rask?"
There were not enough sighs in the world. "Yes, Man's Son. AEthrask, called Rask; son of AEgrom, son of AEbrundr, She Who Remembers the Sun."
"Mason," the little human said, bafflingly.
"What?"
"I'm a mason," the human corrected, gesturing vaguely at himself.
"Though I suppose I'm a man's son, too. Not a very creative man, mind you.
Tryggvisten the mason, at your service. Son of Bjornsten the mason, son of Arnsten the…
Well, you get the idea. But my friends — " and here the word took on a special emphasis, " — just call me Sten, because… you know. Mason. Stone."
Spreading his hands, the man shrugged.
"Sten good name," Rask decided, eyeing the human as he wandered closer to the bergsr?. "Easier to say."
"Good, I'm glad that's settled. Now — "
"Easier say goodbye to, too."
"Wait, what?"
"Goodbye, Sten." Rask turned, scanning the clearing for his goats.
He cursed to realize the male with the little broken horn had ambled off again, making for the trees.
Hopefully, he hadn't gotten far. Rask would need to see the herd safely in their pen before he could go down to the humans’ quarry and talk with the vaettir.
It couldn't keep all of them from getting out — Broken-Horn and White-Foot, especially.
But at least it meant they wouldn't be far from Rask's home when he returned, instead of half a mountain away.
"Hey!" Sten bleated as Rask set out to follow his wayward goat's trail through the tall summer grass.
Rask raised an eyebrow at the little human as he jogged to keep up with the bergsr?'s long strides.
"You can't just walk off like that!"
"Why?" Rask asked, curious.
"You've got to help us."
"Why?" Rask repeated, amused at the way the human's face could pinch and pull so quickly.
"Why?" the man sputtered. "Because…because you've got to!"
When Rask glanced back, he caught the man's scowl.
Good. Maybe now he would leave.
"And don't give me that 'Why?' again," the human continued, jogging after Rask to keep up. "There's no one else who can. Which means… you're my only hope."
"Not Rask's problem," Rask muttered, eyeing the horizon. "Go home."
"Not Rask's problem yet," the bold little man argued. "But if you don't help us, I promise it will be."
Rask growled. "Threatening Rask not wise, Man's Son."
"No! No, not a threat," the human scrambled, holding his hands up placatingly. "A warning. Between friends."
"Rask and human not friends."
"But we could be!" the little man said brightly. "We should be. And it's Sten, remember?"
Rask snorted. "Why Rask bother? Human leaving. Goodbye human."
"Wait, I know!" Sten shouted abruptly, startling several of Rask's goats and sending them leaping ahead up the trail.
"We could trade. Surely you have a mate or family to protect, to provide for?
If you come and help my village, we'd be happy to share whatever we have in payment. Food, wool, stone by the wagonload — "
"No mate," Rask muttered.
"What?" Sten turned on his heel to ask, that cheerful spark lighting up his voice suddenly banked as he considered the bergsr? anew.
"Mate died," Rask replied simply, ignoring the way the human's eyes widened at that. "No children, no family. Just… Rask."
"Oh." Sten said, the pity so thick in that single word Rask regretted not shoving the man off the mountain as soon as he'd arrived. "That must be lonely. Seems like it would be a lot of trouble to live up here in a cave all by yourself."
Rask frowned.
"Where else Rask go? This Rask's mountain; Rask's heart here," Rask shrugged, not even needing to glance behind him and up the cliffs to picture Hjarta's meadow in his mind. "This what bergsr?r do. Not Sten's problem."
"It is if it means the difference in getting you to help us."
"Not Rask's — "
"Yes, yes. Not Rask's problem," Sten snapped, clearly exasperated. "Just tell me — what will it take for you to make it 'your problem'? I swear to you, Rask: I'm not leaving without a solution. I'll camp right here all summer if I have to."
Rask huffed a laugh. "Seasons come, seasons go…but so does Mist. Time matters more to humans than bergsr?r."
"Alright, well… You've got me there," Sten said, deflated. "I just meant, I'll do whatever I have to. Anything at all."