Divination
Jyo sat alone at the high table, at the far side of Arangyle’s feast hall, upon a sturdy wooden chair in the company of Asairde’s aristocrats. The nobles exchanged lively conversation as they sat before two broad wooden tables, arranged parallel to each other and perpendicular to the high table. Sconces lined the hall’s stone walls, and torches burned within them. As castle staff set out food and drink, Jyo breathed in the smells of fresh-baked bread, stewed vegetables, roasted beef, and warmed spiced honey wine. While the nobles’ children roughhoused, Ellanie sat in a corner and pored over Jyo’s field journal.
Across the chamber, royal guards snapped to attention as the sergeant at arms announced Arangyle’s arrival. Jyo joined the others as they stood, and the earl led his advisors to the high table. His wife followed, with their children in tow; the little ones joined the others in the anteroom. After Arangyle and his wife were seated, everyone else sat down.
Earl Eaun Arangyle had broad shoulders, arms like tree trunks, and a barrel chest. His skin was reddish umber, and he wore a full black beard with streaks of white. Torchlight twinkled in his dark brown eyes. “Eat!” he declared, and he tore off a hunk of bread. He shot Jyo a cordial smile. “Glad you made it. Thanks for doing your part in saving all those people from that devil’s horseman.” He dipped his bread in his stew, bit down, and spoke as he chewed. “Some of my advisors tell me the orcs that faced the demon may be the same ones who summoned it. Witnesses say the orc woman commanded it, and my most trusted advisor assures me some orcs, especially those of royal blood, can still use pact magic.” He swallowed his food. “What do you say to that?”
“What do I say to accusations of pact magic? I say magic vanished from Espyrea three hundred years ago.”
“What if I were to tell you Braewood wasn’t the only place attacked by a beast of the Old World?”
Jyo remained impassive. “You’re referring to the incidents at Guthas and Clackoal.”
Arangyle gulped down his honey wine, pounded his chest, and belched. “And Neonean.”
Jyo glanced at the village’s visiting aristocrat, who actively avoided eye contact with the soothsayer. “I wasn’t aware supernatural forces had plundered Baron Ludan’s coffers.”
“A swamp hag stole it all. An elf, by witness accounts. The baron, regretfully, had no choice but to raise taxes on all elves to cover his losses.”
“Did the good people of Neonean ever find their thief?”
Arangyle twisted around and stared at the baron. “Well?”
Baron Ludan stammered, “We’re, uh, still looking. B-But my captain of the guard threw six of her associates in prison! All elves, of course.” He cleared his throat. “That’s where they’ll remain until they confess their involvement.”
“Perhaps I’ll stop by your little hamlet and lend a hand with the investigation,” Jyo offered.
“Thanks, but, uh, that won’t be necessary.”
“Isn’t that my decision to make?”
Arangyle furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I like your tone, High Soothsayer. These men are your betters! Treat them with proper respect.”
“My apologies.” Jyo bowed humbly. “I meant only to help.”
“Then help!” Arangyle cut off a slice of tender, fatty roast beef and stabbed it with a two-pronged fork. “These creatures are unnatural. If magic is dead, then tell us what they are. Tell us why they’re attacking our villages and cities!” He chewed on the slice of beef and enjoyed the salty, savory juices that filled his mouth.
Jyo leaned over the table. “Beasts of the Old World are not necessarily magic. It’s been an age since anyone’s seen a giant, but the one that rampaged through Clackoal was surely one of the Green Men, who were notoriously territorial. That city is nestled in the foothills of Mount Beinn Ceo, where they were known to dwell.”
“Then what of the Slaug? There’s nothing natural about that!”
“Isn’t it more likely that the people of Guthas startled a nest of crows roosting at night? It’s far more likely people panicked, that the man who died was trampled, not dropped to his death by a mass of spectral ravens.”
Arangyle narrowed his gaze. “Then what about the kulaveigh?”
“They’re sea beasts, as mysterious as any other. During the Days of Old, they were known for their ravenous appetites, and trustworthy accounts exist of kulaveighs devouring entire schools of mackerel.”
“It attacked people, not mackerel.”
Jyo nodded. “Ah, but it’s been said the seas west of Braewood have been over-fished of late.”
“If such a thing were possible.”
“Tell me, where did the animal go?”
“To the heart of the market square,” Arangyle answered.
“Toward the bulk of the food.” Jyo leaned back. “It seems likely to me that this ‘devil’s horseman’ was merely starved and acting on instinct. Perhaps you would do well to lean more on your farmers for a few seasons and let the fish populations recover.”
“Not likely,” snorted Arangyle. “We’re a top-of-the-pillar island! Fish is our most lucrative export!”
Jyo took a deep breath. “As you will it, of course. As long as you understand the risks to your people.”
The baron of Neonean sheepishly raised his hand. “And what of my swamp hag?”
Jyo narrowed his gaze. “By declining my offer to assist in your investigation, you have forfeited my input. So says the charter of the Asairden Council of Soothsayers.” He smiled slightly. “Unless you’ve reconsidered?”
“No, uh, no thanks.” He lowered his hand.
Arangyle waved dismissively. “I’m not worried about facing another kulaveigh. Braewood has the finest soldiers in Asairde. Our people will be fine.” Arangyle noticed a few of his advisors exchange worried looks. He leaned close to Jyo and muttered, “But just to be safe, maybe you could do a reading to put people’s minds at ease.”
“What’s your question?”
“Is the darkness of the Old World behind us?”
Jyo nodded. “Do you have a shoulder bone of a black sheep?”
“I can get one, but it’ll take time to clean and boil it. Don’t you have something you normally use? You know, as a soothsayer?”
“My station as High Soothsayer is less divinatory.” Jyo smiled slightly. “More investigative.” He saw the look of growing irritation on Arangyle’s face. “But… If someone here has a set of runes, I could cast those to divine an answer or two.”
“Reading runes is a Cuannamen ritual,” protested a youthful advisor. “They’re savages!”
Jyo raised his brow.
Arangyle stood up and boomed, “You, there. Captain Sorley!”
A blonde guardsman twisted to face his earl.
“You have Cuan ancestry, don’t you?”
“Aye, my liege.”
“Isn’t it tradition among your people to carry runes with you for good luck?”
“And for other reasons.” Sorley untied a heavy belt pouch. “Here!” He lobbed it onto Arangyle’s table.
It slid to a stop within Jyo’s reach. “Thank you.”
“I’d like them back when you’re done, soothsayer.”
“Of course.” Jyo looked at Arangyle. “Eaun Arangyle, Earl of Braewood, are you willing to accept my interpretations as binding?”
“I am.”
“Very well.” Jyo reached into his cloak, pulled out a wool scarf, folded it into a large square, and set it down on the table. He gripped the bag of runes, closed his eyes, and thought, Are the beasts of the Old World done attacking the people of Asairde? He concentrated on the question.
“This is the past.” Jyo drew the first stone and set it down on the left side of the wool square. “Fehu. Abundance.”
Arangyle grinned. “Clearly a reference to three centuries of bountiful Harvest Tides and Braewood’s Summer Fairs!” He laughed and nudged the youthful advisor with his elbow. “Beastly attacks aside.”
“This is the present.” Jyo set down the second rune. His expression darkened. “Isa, the rune of ice.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means the attacks will continue.” Arangyle simmered, and Jyo quickly added, “But don’t lose hope. The third rune will offer us guidance on what we can do about it.”
He set the third runestone down on the right side of the wool square. “Thurisaz. The giant.” Jyo met Arangyle’s apprehensive gaze. “The giant is both a force of destruction and a force of protection. To stop these attacks, we must break down old obstructions. We must destroy what is to protect what will be.”
“Obstructions? What obstructions?”
“You’re observant. Apply enough reasoning to what you can see and reconcile that with your conscience. I’m certain the answer will come to you.” Jyo added, “Five ropes, braided together, are stronger than any single rope on its own.”
Arangyle scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
“Spare me your sympathy for orcs and elves,” Arangyle sneered. “Your reading was as uninspired as it was uninspiring. After three hundred years of prosperity, I’m not about to throw it all away.”
“Prosperity? Prosperity for all?”
“Of course not!”
“Then prosperity for who, exactly?”
The earl extended both of his arms. “Everyone here!”
Jyo nodded. “Everyone here.” He placed the stones back in their pouch, returned his scarf to his cloak, and set to pocketing apples and bread rolls.
“What are you doing?”
“Blinders belong on horses, not men. My daughter and I will travel down-pillar while you face these beasts without us.” His expression was resolute. “Good luck.”
Arangyle chortled. “I couldn’t care less about your destination, you charlatan!” He pointed at Jyo’s cloak. “What are you doing with my food?”
“It’s a long ride back to Fargah.”
The earl guffawed. “Well, thank you so much for responding to my summons, soothsayer! So sad to see you go. I hope you enjoyed the trip here, and with storms gathering in the south, I know you’ll enjoy the trip back!” He jeered at Ellanie. “Both of you!”
His wife rose and whispered insistently into Arangyle’s ear. She gave him a fierce look.
Arangyle sighed. “Just… Hold for a moment.”
Jyo scowled. “Why?”
“Countess Elspaith has a question for the runestones.”
Jyo regarded the earl’s wife. She was a fair woman with curly red hair and green eyes, dressed in a red and white regal gown. “Ask your question.”
“If we tear down these obstructions, will that make Asairde safe?”
“The stones already answered that.”
“Then how do we do it?” She pointed at the pouch of runestones. “Ask them! How do we tear down a three-hundred-year-old system and survive?”
Jyo saw the deep worry in her eyes, in her expression. Patiently, he prepared the wool square. “This time, I will cast nine runes.” He held his breath, closed his eyes and thought, Show them a path forward. Show them a way to safety through this season of change.
He reached into the bag, retrieved the stones, and gently tossed each one onto the wool square.
“The three that landed nearest to the center of the cloth are the most significant.” He leaned over and studied the runes. “Uruz, the wild ox. The rune of strength. The mother of manifestation, and the rune of orc-kind. Next to it is Mannaz, the rune of humankind. It symbolizes humanity’s divine potential. Touching them both is Ehwaz, the horse. Forces working in partnership. The loyalty that the orc and the human will develop for each other will see their task to completion.”
He tapped on two runes that had landed at opposite corners. “Dagaz, the light of the gods, opposes… Hagalaz, the rune of hail, difficulties, and delays. A spirit of the Old World awakes, enraged.” He stood up straight. “That spirit is the one who summoned the giant and the kulaveigh.” He looked at Arangyle. “And the Slaug. You were right.” Jyo hovered over the Hagalaz runestone. “Something powerful is working against this spirit. It may be some time before the spirit can summon another beast.”
“Finally, some good news,” Elspaith breathed.
He studied the other stones. “Raidho, the wagon, and Tiwaz, the rune of ultimate bravery. Our heroes must travel far to find this hostile spirit and find the courage to face it, though it may cost them dearly.” The last two stones had landed face down, and he turned them ever one at a time. “Isa, the rune of ice. Again. Our heroes will face fierce challenges along the way. And Eihwaz, the yew. Rune of wisdom and the Low Road, of the passage back to Asairde in the next world.” He took a deep breath. “Our heroes must leave everything behind if they are to save the Isle.”
Elspaith demanded, “Tell us who these heroes are! We’ll summon them here at once!”
Jyo collected the runestones, returned them to the pouch, and jostled them. “First, I will ask of the orc.” With closed eyes, he drew three stones and set them down vertically on the cloth. “A number first, for context… Thurisaz, the giant, and the number three. Something defining about our orc hero… Kenaz, the rune of creation and artisans. And last, a rune drawn as a letter… Othala, the ‘oh’ sound.”
“Three artisans and the letter ‘O’?” Elspaith brightened and snapped her fingers. “The blacksmiths! Three Links Smithy is their shop! Don’t they have O-names? What are their names?” She beseeched the attendees. “Come now, many of you guardsman visit them for repairs. Doesn’t anyone here know who they are?”
A confused din slowly grew amongst the soldiers and the attendees.
“Orgroth, Ognara, and Ortog,” Ellanie declared, and she stood. “Their names are Orgroth, Ognara, and Ortog! Three O’s.”
Elspaith whispered, “It’s one of them. But which one? The husband or the wife?”
Jyo collected the stones and jostled them. Again, he drew Thurisaz. “Neither.” With a heavy heart, he stated, “It’s their son, Ortog. If we’re lucky, the forces at work against the enraged spirit will keep it at bay long enough for Ortog to reach adulthood.”
She raised her brow. “Don’t rely on luck, dear man. Ask the stones! How long do we have?”
Jyo returned the runestone, gently shook the bag, and closed his eyes. He focused on the question, How much time will pass until the next attack? With a deep breath, he reached into the bag. “Berkano, the birch tree.” He met the countess’s curious gaze. “It is the rune of transitions. Childhood into adulthood, adulthood into death and the like. It means the next attack will come when the boy comes of age.”
“How old is Ortog?”
“Four, I believe.”
“Fourteen more years, then. It will be more than enough time to prepare.” Elspaith nodded decisively. “We’ll train him to fight giants… and dragons! Right here in the keep.” She purred, “With our own Swordmaster Thorfinn, of course. Where does he live? North of town, in that quaint little subhuman village?”
Jyo narrowed his gaze. “Subhuman?”
“Aye,” Arangyle muttered. He gave Elspaith a pleading look. “My love, don’t I get a say in this?”
“With that pig-iron head of yours?” Playfully, she pushed against his forehead. “I think not!”
Arangyle sighed, “Aye, my love.” He faced Jyo. “Now, soothsayer, name the true hero of this quest! Who’s the human? Is it me? My son, Aidan? My daughter, Isobel?”
Jyo answered, “I’ll ask about Ortog’s intended companion.” He returned the Berkano rune, shook the pouch, and drew three stones. “A number… Uruz, the number two. Now, something defining.” He set down the second stone. “Perthro, the diviner’s rune.” His throat bobbed. That’s my rune, he thought. If the third one is Jera… Nervously, he gripped the third stone. “A letter.” He set it down. “The rune is Ehwaz.” He looked surprised. “The horse. And the sound of ‘eh’.” Dreadful realization took hold.
“So, who is it?”
“It’s Ellanie.” Jyo quietly cleared his throat. “It’s my daughter.”
Arangyle roared with laughter. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, soothsayer!” He draped his arm across Jyo’s back and squeezed. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted this reading was binding! Well.” He clapped his hands together. “Looks like you’ll be enjoying my hospitality for a while longer! You can keep the apples and the rolls.” With a broad grin, he glanced beyond the doorway of the feast hall. “We’ll set you two up with one of the less drafty rooms. Maybe even one with a hearth!”
He whistled shrilly. “Royal guard! Ready yourselves to journey north into the slums of the savages.”
Arangyle sat back down at the table. “But first, we eat!” He raised his stein, realized it was empty, and glared at a nearby attendant.
A young woman bolted over and poured the earl his spiced honey wine.