6.1 – Landfall

Allene R. Lowrey

Runa coughed. Again. And again, Irding’s face fell into a scowl. Erik paid his son no mind, merely continued to row. Two weeks had passed since they had escaped the Tower of Ravens, and for two weeks they had been becalmed. Which meant rowing. A lot of rowing meant a lot of singing, ordinarily, to keep their strength up – but Runa’s voice was unused to such long labor.

Einarr’s hands tensed on his fishing line. Fights had sparked from less in the last week. Jorir gave a tug on his own line, and the sound of the sinker pulling through the water defused the moment.

The Gestrisni was low on water, and in two weeks there had been no sign of land where they might find fresh. Which meant that Runa’s voice was in bad condition even when she could sing. This might not have been a problem with…

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5.30 – Escaping the Tower

Allene R. Lowrey

“I’ll catch up by the time you reach the apothecary room.” Einarr flashed a cocky grin at his liege-man before he dashed back into the room, toward the fireplace. Had the familiars left their feathers on purpose, like the Valkyrie had? He couldn’t say, but they were sure to be just as magical.

Einarr bent to scoop up the two feathers without slowing down, then skidded around the giant perch.

The doorway stood empty. Good. Now to fulfill his end of the promise. Einarr tucked the feathers, black as night, into the pouch at his belt and poured on the speed. The distaff was like a goad against his back, and he was glad it wasn’t any longer. Perhaps another foot of length and he’d have had to worry about it tangling in his legs.

He shot through the doorway and cornered hard on the landing to take the stairs…

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5.29 – Örlögnir

Allene R. Lowrey

Runa frowned at the distaffs laying neatly in a row on the shelf of the loft. The description the Matrons had left them had only narrowed it down to two, and she seemed as reluctant to risk picking one up to examine it as Einarr was.

“The Örlögnir untangles fate,” she mused. “Probably our clue is in the pattern of the inlay.”

Einarr peered more closely at the two they were considering. “But… they look the same to me?”

On each, there was a pattern of cross-hatching that seemed vaguely familiar to him, as well as a small round symbol that was difficult to discern in the smoky light up here. It could have been either the Vegvisir or the Helm of Awe, he just couldn’t see without picking it up.

Runa solved this issue neatly by kneeling on the floor to examine the two hazel and ivory distaffs. Feeling…

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