Chapter 265: 265
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"But the mechanics of this ritual-," protested Tyr as he began to find the shadows of doubt – familiar little things, they were, though they became not so little when he let them take root – curl around his heart and mind.
"Are not yours to concern yourself with," said Signi in matter of fact voice. "You would know not of the intricacies detailed in the formula regardless of how I explained them to you, and I will be first to admit that I am no wise and talented educator. But I know what my gifted eyes see, and I tell you now that the formula the Chronicler has devised is without fault."
"This…Chronicler. He, she – whatever it may be – also worries me. Can it truly be trusted?" Tyr put a hand to his helm, remembering the Chronicler.
A tall, thin being. Humanoid in figure but wrapped in so many sandy robes that it was impossible to tell much more. Not even its body shape nor features, for the robes billowed and fluxed independent of the wind, swaying and moving with magical manipulation. Its face, naturally, was covered, hidden under both hood and veil, and Tyr suspected even were those coverings torn apart, there would only be shadowy darkness underneath.
A strange being, to be sure, and one Tyr had never once encountered, nor had he ever heard of. Neither did Signi know of its origins, though she surmised that it was some form of primal spirit that had fallen from its original position.
But it was not just the Chronicler's inscrutable appearance that troubled Tyr,
The Chronicler had come in the past week unannounced which was an exceptional feat in of its own. Not only would the being have had to breach unnoticed past the tightly wound ring of demonic forces surrounding the mountains, but it would also have to sneak past the heavy defenses, traps, surveillance, scrying, and dwarven troops thoroughly guarding the mountains themselves.
And yet, the Chronicler had managed to do just that. With ease and without injury, for that matter. Tyr had granted it a royal welcome for he did know from Signi of its role in granting the elves up north victory over the demons, and the Chronicler was all too eager to share its knowledge with the dwarves to save them of their own demonic plight.
Thus, Signi and the many arcane dwarves learned from the Chronicler, and in the span of three days had wired the Veinheld for this ritual.
A ritual that would dip into what the Chronicler called the 'Source'. The Source of All Things where magic, no, where the very concept of power began. It claimed that the source would allow them to tap into the realm of the gods, to the mythic Valhul where they slumbered, and it had relayed this knowledge to the common people.
At that point, there was nothing Tyr could do about his doubts. The people found hope in the Chronicler's words, and he could not betray their hopes as king. After all, he was a central part of the ritual as well, his earth bound blood being crucial for channeling and grounding energy that was to reach into the far flung expanses of realms both physical and spiritual.
"I have triple, no quadruple checked the magical formula the Chronicler has taught us," said Signi. She nodded to herself. "It is immensely impressive. Such that I myself know that not even in a hundred years of study would I ever be able to replicate something of its complexity and depth, and I am considered a once in a generation prodigy among our own kind.
These eyes of mine that can perceive so much to the point that they may even grasp the future are the only reason I could truly comprehend the ritual, its countless interlocking and weaved rune scripts, channel paths, mana wirings, and spirit arcs. And with these eyes, I tell you now that this ritual is genuine, and that it shall work.
The power of the Veinheld will be enough to fuel its complex breadth, and that raw power will be shaped accurately into a means to tap beyond our current realm to that of the gods."
"Hearing your words gives me comfort," said Tyr. He took in Signi's words and let them reach into his heart. They were cold words, in a way. Logical and ordered. Meant to comfort, yes, but in a way backed by analytics and evidence rather than any empathetic belief.
For that was how Signi always was. The planner. The one with foresight. The thinker and the organizer. And that part, he had appreciated always. That part, he had loved. For it was all that he was not. The necessary ice to cool down a heart that often boiled from overthinking and insecurity. "They always have. You see things as they are. Unclouded by emotion nor flickering heart."
He sighed. "I have trusted you for forty year cycles, I will trust you here now."
Signi nodded, and she put her arms around Tyr, holding him tight to her. "I know so much has sat atop your shoulders. I know it more than anyone else, for the burdens you cannot bear, I do. Tyr, my beloved, this will be a chance for you to be free of those burdens. With the ritual's power, you may end this war, and with this war's end, you have ample means to abdicate the throne and live a retired hero's life free of burden with me."
Tyr smiled and gave Signi's hand a tight squeeze. He stood up, and she stepped back from him, giving him space, for she could sense the resolution building up within him.
"I would like that," said Tyr. "But we shall think about that later. For now, the ritual awaits." He raised his voice. "Hildr!"
His voice boomed across the throne room, and it shook and rumbled for an instant before a rock hydra sn.a.k.e.d its way from the other end of the vast room, weaving through pillars with agility that belied its size.
Tyr opened his arms up wide as the rock hydra approached. Unlike its more deadly variant in the Hinterlands, the rock hydra had not nine heads, but three, and its body was stubbier and more squat, much like that of a wyrm's. Its scales were also grey instead of a toxic green, being stonier and studded with hardened metals for the rock hydra was not poisonous like its western relatives.
Instead, it was more a physical specimen, being thoroughly tougher and faster.
The hydra nuzzled one of its heads into Tyr, and even its single head nearly completely shadowed over the dwarf. He petted the hydra as well as he could.
"Good girl," said Tyr. He had known Hildr almost since the day he first wielded a sword, for every elite dwarven knight would pair and bond with a rock hydra native to the mountains so as to forge a close kinship to last a lifetime.
It would be no exaggeration to claim that Hildr was like family to Tyr.
"Hildr, my dear, I know you love this warm room so very much, but it is time to leave," said Tyr. "I must be alone for this."
Hildr loosed a low grumble as she withdrew her head, her yellow eyes falling down in sadness.
"But worry not," said Tyr. "I will be finished within the hour. For now, take flight down to the Ironforged Gates that guard our home, this ancestral mountain stronghold that we have defended for so very many years together.
For when I emerge once more, it will be in glorious rebirth, with the power of the gods flowing through me, and I will meet you at the gates and we shall fly together in one final thrill of battle."
Hildr's eyes brightened up, but she stayed aback, a little concerned. She grunted, and Tyr understood.
"Ah, this rebirth- it will not change me," said Tyr. "Signi has made it clear to me. It will only grant me power, and with it, we may give our home peace. I will always be the same, my dear, the same Tyr that I was when I was a boy waving my blade about like a fool and you a hatchling struggling to fly.
And now, we will fly together as divinely blessed rider and hydra – how far we have come. Promise me only that you will wait for me at the gates, for I know how impatient you can become."
Hildr nodded her three heads and grunted in acceptance before charging out the throne room, her wings fluttering as she sailed across and out, up towards the surface. He smiled fondly at her excitement for battle, and he eagerly awaited the ritual's end til' he could ride atop his beloved Hildr with his wondrous wife Signi and free his home from the darkness that choked it.
He could finally meet his peoples' expectations. He could finally become worthy of the crown atop his helm.
He did not know this was the last time he would ever see Hildr. The last time he would ever see Signi. The last time he would see much of anything aside from darkness.
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"But the mechanics of this ritual-," protested Tyr as he began to find the shadows of doubt – familiar little things, they were, though they became not so little when he let them take root – curl around his heart and mind.
"Are not yours to concern yourself with," said Signi in matter of fact voice. "You would know not of the intricacies detailed in the formula regardless of how I explained them to you, and I will be first to admit that I am no wise and talented educator. But I know what my gifted eyes see, and I tell you now that the formula the Chronicler has devised is without fault."
"This…Chronicler. He, she – whatever it may be – also worries me. Can it truly be trusted?" Tyr put a hand to his helm, remembering the Chronicler.
A tall, thin being. Humanoid in figure but wrapped in so many sandy robes that it was impossible to tell much more. Not even its body shape nor features, for the robes billowed and fluxed independent of the wind, swaying and moving with magical manipulation. Its face, naturally, was covered, hidden under both hood and veil, and Tyr suspected even were those coverings torn apart, there would only be shadowy darkness underneath.
A strange being, to be sure, and one Tyr had never once encountered, nor had he ever heard of. Neither did Signi know of its origins, though she surmised that it was some form of primal spirit that had fallen from its original position.
But it was not just the Chronicler's inscrutable appearance that troubled Tyr,
The Chronicler had come in the past week unannounced which was an exceptional feat in of its own. Not only would the being have had to breach unnoticed past the tightly wound ring of demonic forces surrounding the mountains, but it would also have to sneak past the heavy defenses, traps, surveillance, scrying, and dwarven troops thoroughly guarding the mountains themselves.
And yet, the Chronicler had managed to do just that. With ease and without injury, for that matter. Tyr had granted it a royal welcome for he did know from Signi of its role in granting the elves up north victory over the demons, and the Chronicler was all too eager to share its knowledge with the dwarves to save them of their own demonic plight.
Thus, Signi and the many arcane dwarves learned from the Chronicler, and in the span of three days had wired the Veinheld for this ritual.
A ritual that would dip into what the Chronicler called the 'Source'. The Source of All Things where magic, no, where the very concept of power began. It claimed that the source would allow them to tap into the realm of the gods, to the mythic Valhul where they slumbered, and it had relayed this knowledge to the common people.
At that point, there was nothing Tyr could do about his doubts. The people found hope in the Chronicler's words, and he could not betray their hopes as king. After all, he was a central part of the ritual as well, his earth bound blood being crucial for channeling and grounding energy that was to reach into the far flung expanses of realms both physical and spiritual.
"I have triple, no quadruple checked the magical formula the Chronicler has taught us," said Signi. She nodded to herself. "It is immensely impressive. Such that I myself know that not even in a hundred years of study would I ever be able to replicate something of its complexity and depth, and I am considered a once in a generation prodigy among our own kind.
These eyes of mine that can perceive so much to the point that they may even grasp the future are the only reason I could truly comprehend the ritual, its countless interlocking and weaved rune scripts, channel paths, mana wirings, and spirit arcs. And with these eyes, I tell you now that this ritual is genuine, and that it shall work.
The power of the Veinheld will be enough to fuel its complex breadth, and that raw power will be shaped accurately into a means to tap beyond our current realm to that of the gods."
"Hearing your words gives me comfort," said Tyr. He took in Signi's words and let them reach into his heart. They were cold words, in a way. Logical and ordered. Meant to comfort, yes, but in a way backed by analytics and evidence rather than any empathetic belief.
For that was how Signi always was. The planner. The one with foresight. The thinker and the organizer. And that part, he had appreciated always. That part, he had loved. For it was all that he was not. The necessary ice to cool down a heart that often boiled from overthinking and insecurity. "They always have. You see things as they are. Unclouded by emotion nor flickering heart."
He sighed. "I have trusted you for forty year cycles, I will trust you here now."
Signi nodded, and she put her arms around Tyr, holding him tight to her. "I know so much has sat atop your shoulders. I know it more than anyone else, for the burdens you cannot bear, I do. Tyr, my beloved, this will be a chance for you to be free of those burdens. With the ritual's power, you may end this war, and with this war's end, you have ample means to abdicate the throne and live a retired hero's life free of burden with me."
Tyr smiled and gave Signi's hand a tight squeeze. He stood up, and she stepped back from him, giving him space, for she could sense the resolution building up within him.
"I would like that," said Tyr. "But we shall think about that later. For now, the ritual awaits." He raised his voice. "Hildr!"
His voice boomed across the throne room, and it shook and rumbled for an instant before a rock hydra sn.a.k.e.d its way from the other end of the vast room, weaving through pillars with agility that belied its size.
Tyr opened his arms up wide as the rock hydra approached. Unlike its more deadly variant in the Hinterlands, the rock hydra had not nine heads, but three, and its body was stubbier and more squat, much like that of a wyrm's. Its scales were also grey instead of a toxic green, being stonier and studded with hardened metals for the rock hydra was not poisonous like its western relatives.
Instead, it was more a physical specimen, being thoroughly tougher and faster.
The hydra nuzzled one of its heads into Tyr, and even its single head nearly completely shadowed over the dwarf. He petted the hydra as well as he could.
"Good girl," said Tyr. He had known Hildr almost since the day he first wielded a sword, for every elite dwarven knight would pair and bond with a rock hydra native to the mountains so as to forge a close kinship to last a lifetime.
It would be no exaggeration to claim that Hildr was like family to Tyr.
"Hildr, my dear, I know you love this warm room so very much, but it is time to leave," said Tyr. "I must be alone for this."
Hildr loosed a low grumble as she withdrew her head, her yellow eyes falling down in sadness.
"But worry not," said Tyr. "I will be finished within the hour. For now, take flight down to the Ironforged Gates that guard our home, this ancestral mountain stronghold that we have defended for so very many years together.
For when I emerge once more, it will be in glorious rebirth, with the power of the gods flowing through me, and I will meet you at the gates and we shall fly together in one final thrill of battle."
Hildr's eyes brightened up, but she stayed aback, a little concerned. She grunted, and Tyr understood.
"Ah, this rebirth- it will not change me," said Tyr. "Signi has made it clear to me. It will only grant me power, and with it, we may give our home peace. I will always be the same, my dear, the same Tyr that I was when I was a boy waving my blade about like a fool and you a hatchling struggling to fly.
And now, we will fly together as divinely blessed rider and hydra – how far we have come. Promise me only that you will wait for me at the gates, for I know how impatient you can become."
Hildr nodded her three heads and grunted in acceptance before charging out the throne room, her wings fluttering as she sailed across and out, up towards the surface. He smiled fondly at her excitement for battle, and he eagerly awaited the ritual's end til' he could ride atop his beloved Hildr with his wondrous wife Signi and free his home from the darkness that choked it.
He could finally meet his peoples' expectations. He could finally become worthy of the crown atop his helm.
He did not know this was the last time he would ever see Hildr. The last time he would ever see Signi. The last time he would see much of anything aside from darkness.
"But the mechanics of this ritual-," protested Tyr as he began to find the shadows of doubt familiar little things, they were, though they became not so little when he let them take root curl around his heart and mind. "Are not yours to concern yourself with," said Signi in matter of fact voice. "You would know not of the intricacies detailed in the formula regardless of how I explained them to you, and I will be first to admit that I am no wise and talented educator. But I know what my gifted eyes see, and I tell you now that the formula the Chronicler has devised is without fault." "ThisChronicler. He, she whatever it may be also worries me. Can it truly be trusted?" Tyr put a hand to his helm, remembering the Chronicler. A tall, thin being. Humanoid in figure but wrapped in so many sandy robes that it was impossible to tell much more. Not even its body shape nor features, for the robes billowed and fluxed independent of the wind, swaying and moving with magical manipulation. Its face, naturally, was covered, hidden under both hood and veil, and Tyr suspected even were those coverings torn apart, there would only be shadowy darkness underneath. A strange being, to be sure, and one Tyr had never once encountered, nor had he ever heard of. Neither did Signi know of its origins, though she surmised that it was some form of primal spirit that had fallen from its original position. But it was not just the Chronicler's inscrutable appearance that troubled Tyr, The Chronicler had come in the past week unannounced which was an exceptional feat in of its own. Not only would the being have had to breach unnoticed past the tightly wound ring of demonic forces surrounding the mountains, but it would also have to sneak past the heavy defenses, traps, surveillance, scrying, and dwarven troops thoroughly guarding the mountains themselves. And yet, the Chronicler had managed to do just that. With ease and without injury, for that matter. Tyr had granted it a royal welcome for he did know from Signi of its role in granting the elves up north victory over the demons, and the Chronicler was all too eager to share its knowledge with the dwarves to save them of their own demonic plight. Thus, Signi and the many arcane dwarves learned from the Chronicler, and in the span of three days had wired the Veinheld for this ritual. A ritual that would dip into what the Chronicler called the 'Source'. The Source of All Things where magic, no, where the very concept of power began. It claimed that the source would allow them to tap into the realm of the gods, to the mythic Valhul where they slumbered, and it had relayed this knowledge to the common people. At that point, there was nothing Tyr could do about his doubts. The people found hope in the Chronicler's words, and he could not betray their hopes as king. After all, he was a central part of the ritual as well, his earth bound blood being crucial for channeling and grounding energy that was to reach into the far flung expanses of realms both physical and spiritual. "I have triple, no quadruple checked the magical formula the Chronicler has taught us," said Signi. She nodded to herself. "It is immensely impressive. Such that I myself know that not even in a hundred years of study would I ever be able to replicate something of its complexity and depth, and I am considered a once in a generation prodigy among our own kind. These eyes of mine that can perceive so much to the point that they may even grasp the future are the only reason I could truly comprehend the ritual, its countless interlocking and weaved rune scripts, channel paths, mana wirings, and spirit arcs. And with these eyes, I tell you now that this ritual is genuine, and that it shall work. The power of the Veinheld will be enough to fuel its complex breadth, and that raw power will be shaped accurately into a means to tap beyond our current realm to that of the gods." "Hearing your words gives me comfort," said Tyr. He took in Signi's words and let them reach into his heart. They were cold words, in a way. Logical and ordered. Meant to comfort, yes, but in a way backed by analytics and evidence rather than any empathetic belief. For that was how Signi always was. The planner. The one with foresight. The thinker and the organizer. And that part, he had appreciated always. That part, he had loved. For it was all that he was not. The necessary ice to cool down a heart that often boiled from overthinking and insecurity. "They always have. You see things as they are. Unclouded by emotion nor flickering heart." He sighed. "I have trusted you for forty year cycles, I will trust you here now." Signi nodded, and she put her arms around Tyr, holding him tight to her. "I know so much has sat atop your shoulders. I know it more than anyone else, for the burdens you cannot bear, I do. Tyr, my beloved, this will be a chance for you to be free of those burdens. With the ritual's power, you may end this war, and with this war's end, you have ample means to abdicate the throne and live a retired hero's life free of burden with me." Tyr smiled and gave Signi's hand a tight squeeze. He stood up, and she stepped back from him, giving him space, for she could sense the resolution building up within him. "I would like that," said Tyr. "But we shall think about that later. For now, the ritual awaits." He raised his voice. "Hildr!" His voice boomed across the throne room, and it shook and rumbled for an instant before a rock hydra sn.a.k.e.d its way from the other end of the vast room, weaving through pillars with agility that belied its size. Tyr opened his arms up wide as the rock hydra approached. Unlike its more deadly variant in the Hinterlands, the rock hydra had not nine heads, but three, and its body was stubbier and more squat, much like that of a wyrm's. Its scales were also grey instead of a toxic green, being stonier and studded with hardened metals for the rock hydra was not poisonous like its western relatives. Instead, it was more a physical specimen, being thoroughly tougher and faster. The hydra nuzzled one of its heads into Tyr, and even its single head nearly completely shadowed over the dwarf. He petted the hydra as well as he could. "Good girl," said Tyr. He had known Hildr almost since the day he first wielded a sword, for every elite dwarven knight would pair and bond with a rock hydra native to the mountains so as to forge a close kinship to last a lifetime. It would be no exaggeration to claim that Hildr was like family to Tyr. "Hildr, my dear, I know you love this warm room so very much, but it is time to leave," said Tyr. "I must be alone for this." Hildr loosed a low grumble as she withdrew her head, her yellow eyes falling down in sadness. "But worry not," said Tyr. "I will be finished within the hour. For now, take flight down to the Ironforged Gates that guard our home, this ancestral mountain stronghold that we have defended for so very many years together. For when I emerge once more, it will be in glorious rebirth, with the power of the gods flowing through me, and I will meet you at the gates and we shall fly together in one final thrill of battle." Hildr's eyes brightened up, but she stayed aback, a little concerned. She grunted, and Tyr understood. "Ah, this rebirth- it will not change me," said Tyr. "Signi has made it clear to me. It will only grant me power, and with it, we may give our home peace. I will always be the same, my dear, the same Tyr that I was when I was a boy waving my blade about like a fool and you a hatchling struggling to fly. And now, we will fly together as divinely blessed rider and hydra how far we have come. Promise me only that you will wait for me at the gates, for I know how impatient you can become." Hildr nodded her three heads and grunted in acceptance before charging out the throne room, her wings fluttering as she sailed across and out, up towards the surface. He smiled fondly at her excitement for battle, and he eagerly awaited the ritual's end til' he could ride atop his beloved Hildr with his wondrous wife Signi and free his home from the darkness that choked it. He could finally meet his peoples' expectations. He could finally become worthy of the crown atop his helm. He did not know this was the last time he would ever see Hildr. The last time he would ever see Signi. The last time he would see much of anything aside from darkness.
