Chapter 38 Aura
AURA
Inner Sanctum - Forest of Fear, Skalor
“What should we expect in Sannhet Burg? You seem sure that Jarl Clementia will agree to ally with us.” Aura piles their bags before another standing stone in the Inner Sanctum. Caretakers of the Sanctum step through the archway, leading to the ship she lent them for the remainder of their journey.
“Clem took me in when no one else would.” He explains. “I have faith she will support our cause.” He opens a food pack upon a wooden slab, allowing their party to enjoy a final meal before disembarking.
“I don’t think she will say no, Ice Prick. Not with your bond. And she owes you for that time at the thing.” Argnier interjects through a mouthful.
“She has been the closest person I’ve had to a mother, even if that bar is abysmally low.”
“What was your relationship like with Avard?” Aura adjusts the belt around her waist. “You hardly speak of him.”
“He was not the warmest individual, but he kept Lavinia at bay. Father sacrificed everything to ensure I was safe from her clutches. By the time we had a decent enough life in Salt, he had grown ill and never recovered.” Calder's eyes glaze as he stares unblinking at the half-eaten orange in his hand.
“He refused to return to Toftlund or speak with King Thord, whom he blamed for Lavinia.”
As if it were possible to hate Lavinia more.
Aura caresses his back. “Your situation is unimaginable.”
“And then you ran back to Skalor despite everything.” Argnier spouts through his laughter.
Edmund’s sweet tobacco smoke swirls around them as he leans against a tree nearby.
“Hold on there, Far Eddie.” Argnier gestures with a heel of bread clutched in his hand. “How in the Abyss did you come about?”
“Do you not know how children are made, old man?” Edmund slips his hands into his pockets, not bothering to remove the stem of his pipe while he speaks. “Usually, a man sticks his…”
“I know how the fuck they are made!” Argnier grumbles.
“Papa Slode had a brief affair with a woman years before the War for Treland.” Edmund sighs as if he shares this story every day.
“I hardly remember her. Deciding she didn’t want to raise a child anymore, she gave me up to my father in exchange for a hefty bag of coin.
He was then, famously, Uncle Sig’s Second.
Papa Bertie was overjoyed to have my ass bounce into their lives.
” He widely smiles while glancing unblinkingly into the trees. “Dammit, I miss them.”
“Thank you again for saving my life in Pradacia,” Calder admits. “You have made a great addition to my council. Even if you drink all my mead, Edmund. I will still gladly run into battle with you.”
“And I will always be there to save your ass.” Edmund holds up a cup.
“I am too old for war, but I will help any other way.” Argnier smashes his mug against the others.
“And, of course, I have already pledged my eternal fealty, my lord.” Aura winks, taking a sip from her horn.
Argnier and Edmund exchange a knowing look and nod simultaneously. “It’s time.”
They both remove their daggers and slice along their forearms. Trickling streams of blood flow from their fresh wounds onto the grass.
They slide their bloody hands along their blades as Calder tilts his head with a sigh. “I know what you two are doing. This is unnecessary.”
“Stuff it, Ice Prick.”
“It’s a long time coming.” Edmund agrees. “I, Edmund Slodesson-Alexandrite, swear fealty, even in death, to my Jarl Calder Avardsson.”
“I, Argnier Hilmirsson, swear fealty, even in death, to my Jarl Calder Avardsson.”
They pledge the Drengr oath reserved for Father.
They each kneel after their proclamation, their heads tilted down in reverence.
“Rise.” Calder commands, slapping his large hands on their shoulders. “I could not have asked for a better group to join in this quest to kill my parents.”
All three of them beam at him. Aura’s heart swells as she watches his icy eyes soften for their band of misfits.
As Edmund and Argnier finish their meal, Aura catches Calder smiling to himself.
“What are you thinking?” She nudges him.
“For once, I don’t feel like a demon spawn.” He clutches her hand. “We are doing the right thing, Aura. No manipulations. No following orders out of duty. We are prepared to destroy an imposing evil that threatens the continent.”
His words fill her with pride in herself, something she didn’t think would ever return after her Drengr Trial.
Before she can say anything more, Crystal suddenly appears. “Calder?!” She grips him in a shaky grasp. “You cannot venture to Sannhet Burg!”
“What happened?”
Tightness grips Aura’s chest at the thought of his mentor figure, Jarl Clementia, and her family.
“Borg Hold has fallen to Jarl Odo. Jarl Clementia and her family fought fearlessly to defend their lands. Though they have not fallen, they have been taken captive.” Her eyes fade to midnight, like any Seer projecting a prophecy.
She was not jesting when she mentioned that a witch received every power on the Endless Shore. Aura still had yet to receive a vision from the Norn.
“What do you see?” he asks, examining her closely.
“Jarl Odo has allied himself with Queen Lavinia. Your small crew cannot withstand Odo’s army and the Queen’s forces.”
Without warning, Calder shatters his stool against a small boulder. “Dammit!”
“Wait!” Aura looks between them. “We could stop them.” She steps closer to Crystal, who arches a brow.
“Those of my realm are peaceful-” Crystal begins.
Aura shakes her head, interrupting her. “Just you and me. Our combined abilities could devastate the armies and give the men enough time to free the prisoners.”
“You are a determined one, darling.”
Calder looks murderous. “No.”
Crystal places a hand on her hip, turning on him with a feral glint in her gaze. “She is not your puppet to dictate, Iss Drengr.” She spits.
“I would never presume her to be, Wicked Wyvern.” He squares up to Crystal, towering over her.
“She has barely had control of her full seidr for a week, and you agree to send her into battle?” His voice rises.
White scales briefly flutter across the wyvern’s exposed skin. “You were not in the battles of the Halvgud Rebellion. Her emotions are far more stable to channel the might of the Endless Shore seidr than yours, son of Makt.”
Aura pushes between them, sensing too much tension in the air. “Listen to my plan and then make your decisions.”
October 22nd, Year 21, 10th Era
Borg Hold, Skalor
The ship rocks against the frozen shore as their crew lands along the edge of the massive forest that encompasses Borg Hold.
It took until sunset the day before for Calder to agree to the plan. Yet, even now, he ignores Aura’s attempts to lighten the mood.
Once they unpack in the heavy snow and begin scouting the area, Calder grips her shoulder, turning her to look at him. “What are your two rules?”
Aura sighs. “If the outcome of the battle turns for the worse, Crystal will fly me out. I'll call Briny with the Sacred Stone if she isn't around.”
He growls low at her slight mocking tone.
“And two, we won’t kill Jarl Odo.” Aura grits her teeth, resenting both of his stipulations.
Calder’s brow knits, and he looks as if she just stabbed him in the chest.
“Aura,” Crystal waves her further into the blindingly white snowy forest while Edmund and Argnier discuss the best way to approach the Sannhet Burg jail where Clementia and her court are held.
Aura weaves through the thickly coated evergreens, where Crystal digs through a silk sack.
“I have a gift for you,” Crystal explains as she withdraws a light armor set of gauntlets, a cuirass, and greaves crafted from rare Astrian steel. Contrasting against the brightness of the snow, the metal glistens with an iridescent deep violet and onyx color.
“These are gorgeous,” she accepts the armor, feeling the seidr coursing through the metal.
Crystal smiles fondly as Aura tugs on the cuirass. Somehow, the steel melds to her like a second skin.
“The set belonged to the last witch before the Norn revoked the gifting of a seidr guide to the continent.” A sadness ghosts across the wyvern’s features.
“Who was that?”
Crystal busies herself, stuffing her traveling cloak and boots into the bag. “Hawke Ornolfsson. Like you, he sought a path away from the expectations his family held for him. He lived long after the Halvgud Rebellion, when seidr wielders were hunted and feared.”
Shivers trickle down her spine.
“Are you ready?” Crystal asks, handing the pack to Aura, who shoulders the wyvern’s armor and clothes with a nod.
Crunching snow interrupts their preparation as Calder appears. “I expect to see you both alive and well at the statue in the town center.”
Crystal strides away into the clearing where she transforms into her imposing wyvern form.
“Remember the rules!” Calder warns Aura as she jumps onto Crystal’s scaly back, and they take off across the forest, flying low so as not to arouse suspicion from enemy sentries. Conveniently, the pearly wyvern scales allow them to blend with the endless stretch of wintry woods.
None of their crew had any reservations that the Wicked Wyvern could just as easily land in the center of town and incinerate Odo and Lavinia’s troops.
Instead, this rescue mission hinges on their stealth abilities to eliminate as many of the forces as possible before capturing Odo.
Meanwhile, Calder, Edmund, and Argnier will free Clementia and her people.
Nothing like a mission with steep odds.
Crystal lands at an abandoned farm outside town just as dusk settles over the Hold.
After donning her new armor and equipping her father’s axe, the two crouch down, facing the fortified Sannhet Burg. Weathered stone walls encircle the central town, with five ivy-covered towers built at strategic points.
“Calder said our best route is through the undercroft since the Gothi Temple is outside the walls,” Aura whispers, even though the only creatures able to eavesdrop on them are three wolly pigs.