Chapter 4: Welcome home

Gjorn lay unconscious in the bright sunlit grassy knoll. The breeze slowly whispering through the massive oak trees surrounding the small mound, the air tinted with the smell of spring and weeping pine sap. The world turned around him, uncaring of his state or well being, continuing on as if there was not an interplanar interloper in their midst. 

A small bird, bright blue feathers dancing about its wings, landed on Gjorns back. It picked at his long hair, pulling strand after strand for a nest it was building. The soft chirping stirred the Dwarf, a sharp intake of breath causing his feathered companion to fly up in surprise. Though, it landed back on him, chipping curiously at him. 

His head felt as if he lost a drinking contest, or won one. The bird song sounded familiar, like an old song of the homeland he hadn't heard in years. With a grunt he rolled over, slowly opening his eyes letting them adjust to the bright light. HIs finger tips brushed against something, the soft strum of his lute briefly filled the air. 

The small bird landed on his chest, hopping down to his hand. It pecked at the lute strings, emitting it's own sound. Jumping back, but warbling happily at the noise. "Music lover huh?" Gjorn furrowed his brow. While he knew what he had said, he didn't understand the language he just used. Soft and flowing, like a cacophony of songbirds twittering in unison. 

Sitting up and looking around a few things stood out to him. First was that the bird that still plucked at the lute strings, had antlers. Odd, but I've seen odder. The second was that his skin was completely different, it was hazy and indistinct with no actual outline where the outside world began and he did. 

Not quite black, but opaque, as if light refused to interact with him rather than be absorbed. The vision of that giggling shadow filled his mind, he didn't notice it until now. Maybe it was because it was dark in the room where it had murdered those Gnomes, maybe he was more focused on the fact that it was trying to kill him too. It's skin did the same thing.

Eyes lifting to the sky, it looked as he remembered it. The sun burning brightly as it made it's slow journey across the heavens, though it seemed off. As if it was reacting to something, he noticed it pulsing slightly though it's light stayed constant. He also noticed he could see the stars even in the day, twinkling a dazzling array of colors. 

Reaching down for his lute, the bird starred at him. As if it knew something was wrong now, like it was reporting to something greater than itself. "I don't suppose you wish to be serenaded do you? It would be nice to have some company while I look for a way back home." That strange tongue left his mouth again, though the bird did fly over to him and land on the top of his head. 

"I guess you can understand to a degree then." Gjorn lifted himself off the grass, and began walking toward the direction of the sun. Strumming a pleasant tune while the bird stayed silent now.

The trees passed by, ancient things, their grandeur taking him by surprise. What we wouldn't give to have timber like this again. He thought to himself, remembering his father speaking of ancient forests much like this. Though this savannah held relatively few trees all things considered, the sun felt warm on his body as he left their shade. Endless grasslands before him, their long stalks waving like a great golden sea. 

Blazing his own trail through the grass, he decided that following the game trails would only lead him to bothering some creature minding it's own business. Using the sun as his compass, if this world followed some semblance of the same rules, he would come across some kind of landmark eventually if he kept in a straight line. He has figured out he was no longer on the Great Tree many hours ago. As strange winged creatures glided through the skies, their stretched fleshy wings blocked his view of the stars.

He had heard of nowhere, in no history where the stars were visible anywhere on the planet during the day. Well, to be fair that's not entirely true. The Dawn of Truths spoke about the skies being broken, so maybe they did the same thing all those eons ago. Thinking back to when he was told as a boy by Hjalti and his Father about the breaking of the world when the gods had first walked the Branches of the Tree. 

The sense of timelessness in this vast grassland was peaceful to Gjorn. His lute's songs echoing on endlessly, though he couldn't see them, he saw many a creature stop in the grass to listen. As the sun began to set, Gjorn stopped to set up a small camp. Though he had been walking under the hot sun all day, he felt no thirst or hunger. Stopping down the grass, he made a clearing for himself, digging out a hole for a fire. 

Pulling out his knife from the belt on his side, he cut away all the grass he stomped down. The last thing he needed was a wildfire as he made a small fire to keep the wildlife away from his spot. Carefully edging the hole with the cool earth he thought to himself. Huh, Hjalti had said I have a Talent for Air. I think the engineers were discussing compression and heat a few weeks ago. I wonder if I can ignite this by compressing the air. He only thought this fore he had noticed his flint and steel were not on him.

He had left them in the chamber while Hjalti slept. He chuckled to himself, "Didn't think I would need a full field kit on me at times." The strange words filled the air as he sat down and got comfortable. He said it was all about intent and concentration... He focused first on his breathing, Taking a bit of a jump with this, all I had been able to do before is move the air around. Then moved his concentration down his neck to his arms and finally to his fingertips. 

Feeling the blood move around his body in a half meditative state, he focused on the slight breeze as the sun began setting the horizon. The stars far brighter now, enough light to see by even without the sun. He pulled at the air slowly at first. Envisioning his own hands pressing together in the grass pile. While his own hands were strong, his minds eye saw them as much stronger. Pressing the air tighter together he felt the air grow hot at his fingertips.

Still he pressed on, pushing harder and harder on the point of air in the grass pile. The moon was rising on the other horizon how, as the smell of smoke filled his nose. Smiling, he knew he had to keep pressing to ignite it. While an effort he didn't quite understand he put his figurative weight into the magic. With a pop a small fire had started in the grass.

Gjorn whooped with a victorious noise. Jumping to his feet at his own accomplishment, he had done something with magic he didn't think was entirely possible and without Hjalti's guidance. Though his giddiness was short lived as the fire went out before he could add more grass to the small flame. 

He sat back down, and repeated the process. A little easier now, still taking care to not light a larger fire than he needed. Only enough to fill the area with smoke and spook any would be predators away from his small camp. The bird twittered at him in a way that sounded like it was proud of him, landing on his shoulder as it watched the fire with him.

"Can you teach me that song you have been singing all day?" Gjorn asked it, pulling his lute into is lap. The antlered creature began chirping instantly for him.  

The moon was high in the sky by the time Gjorn fell asleep. His fire had long gone out, but accomplishing it's task, the entire area having a low hazy of smoke listing around. The bird perched itself atop a tall stalk of grass watching as Gjorn's hazy skin spread out around him. Creeping along the ground, touching and examining everything around it. Benign in it's motives, the shadows simply wishing to know more about this world. Echoes of Gjorn's dreams visible in the haze, distant mountains surrounded by vast seas. A lightning strike hammering down on a lone ship tossing in the harsh waves.

The next few days passed by in much the same way. The small bird chirping away as the Dwarf played it's song, amazed at the subtly of the notes he had to play to mimic it. The crescendos and major lifts in quick succession of each other. The octave shifts without warnings or the long sequences of repeating notes. This bird really pushed his skill as a musician, If anything, if I ever make it back home, I'll be the greatest bard that has ever lived as far as I'm concerned. He thought to himself. 

One the fourth day, the bird flew far ahead of him, not reappearing for many long hours. On the horizon he finally saw shoreline, or at least he thought it was shoreline, the outline of the distant scenery broken up with what looked like small pillars. The bird had returned with a grub in it's talons, offering it to Gjorn. 

"Thank you, but this place is strange to me. I haven't felt hungry this entire time, you can have it Friend." He said, patting the little thing atop it's head. It obliged quickly, in a quick motion it beaked down the grub. 

The two wandered on closer to the pillars now more detail evident to the companions. They weren't small pillars in the slightest. Colossal monoliths in the endless grassy sea they walked, weathered and smoothed with age. The smell of sea air heavy in Gjorn's nose, the salty musk of it familiar and welcoming. 

The ground slowly rising up a from the flat savannah, rocks protruding from the earth. Thermals rising from the stones as eagles swirled overhead, spotting a few nests atop the pillars. "Fret nought little friend, I think you are safe here. Eagles don't usually hunt other birds, they are more favor fish and large game." Gjorn spoke, though it chirped back at him in warning. "I think I'm safe here as well." He laughed. 

Walking through the hallway without the ceiling the block the sky, the pillars passed by. Though the shape of the land was beginning to fell familiar even moreso. Visions of his landing party at the fortress filled his mind, the storm hiding their approach. He relived the assault in memory, them pulling the gatehouse down and charging the courtyard. The sound of clashing steel and gunshots firing off filled his ears. 

He only snapped out of his thoughts after the bird flew off to a small stone structure near the shoreline. Near the base of a bluff face level with the crash of the surf, the grass having gave way to moss and lichens on the rock. He made his way to the stone structure picking his way through the loose sand and rock on the way down. 

The pebbles flowing away from his feet, pulled by the inexorable force of gravity. He slid the last twenty or so feet down to the beach, the ever constant sound of the waves comforting to him. He spotted the bird sitting atop a stone wall where a small building had once stood. Chirping at him, flitting from stone wall to stone wall. 

Entering the broken archway into the building he stopped, mouth dropping open. In the center of the ruin was the same symbol he had seen in the chamber. All four runes glowing brightly in a kaleidoscope of colors, numerous other runes covering every square inch of the stone surface. It dawned on him then, he had Branch Walked here. Hjalti had said that the Wayfarers opened portals to other realities, close to the one he knew. He had said that the realities sometimes shifted in time, others had transcended beyond that. 

Looking about at the bluffs and shoreline, he began recognizing certain features of the land. Without the fortress here, he hadn't noticed them right away. "Am I on the Ilse of Mhuzelt before the Hammer Strike?" He asked the bird.

He stepped into the threshold of the archway, as his boot hit the floor a trumpet sounded from everywhere loudly. Deep and far off, filling the sky with it's thunder, a proverbial war horn signaling the coming of something. Jumping back off the stone floor of the circle, back onto the soft sand, he whipped around to see far to the south a colossal ward fill the horizon. It's rune structures flowing in a fiery crimson light, slowly encasing the entire sky till it was the only thing visible in the heavens.  

He noticed a series of lights appear from where the ward originated, launching themselves high into the air. Arching toward him like a comet, a final much brighter light shone after they had all launched. This one racing passed the others like a doom driven meteor in a slash of brilliant golden sunlight. 

A fear crept into Gjorn's soul as he watched them get closer and closer second by second. He knew a claxon when he heard one, apparently having set off some sort of alarm. Whoever, or whatever was now racing toward his position was likely to not be friendly to his presence. Though going off such a remote warning and the speed at which the response was, he had little hope of getting away. 

"I don't suppose it's a welcoming committee, maybe with a slap on the ass pointing the way home, is it?" He turned to the bird, seeing it had vanished. "I suppose I can't blame it, I came all the way through time and space and had a short time with it. I suppose I can try and see what I can't do." 

He readied himself as the brightest light was only a few seconds from landing on the shore. Squaring himself, pulling a piece of driftwood out of the sand thinking he might be able to use it as a weapon if needed. He quickly pulled some string out of his pocket and lashed his knife to the end of it making a crude spear. A lot of use this is going to be if they have firearms. 

He hid behind the wall of the ruin just inside the offending archway that had set off the warning. Peeking his head out from behind the wall he watched as that falling star crashed in a thunderous boom to the sand. Instantly turning it to glass from the heat, filling the entire shoreline with an skin searing inferno. 

The heavily armored man stood from a kneeling position, a long saber and a strange implement in his hand. He unfurled his wings, reminiscent of a monarchs wings if it weren't for the fact that they flowed like molten glass. As soon as he stood up to his full height they burst into flame, licking at the atmosphere like a hungry furnace. Gjorn shielded his face with his hand the heat coming off this warrior was intense. 

Like a sun that had fallen to earth, be glowed with an ever present light. Pointing at the ruins with the implement,  Gjorn knew the wall had no chance of stopping the rune structure that was forming at it's tip. Instinct kicked in, rolling to his side as the bolt of lightning struck the wall. A shower of molted stone burned Gjorn's heavy clothing as it fell on him. 

Spear in hand, he rolled again as another bolt struck here he had been. The Armored man spoke that same strange tonged Gjorn had spoke, though he couldn't understand it. He tried to run, keeping behind the rocks to keep out of range of that lightning stick. He heard the man take flight, his heavy armor clicking as he landed in front of Gjorn behind his rock. 

One phrase rang like a bell that the man said, "Shadow, how did you get here?" Though the rest of it was lost on him as he parried with his spear, the saber strike the man swung at him. Gjorn having been in desperate situations before felt his adrenaline rise, but didn't let it cloud his mind. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to run away, though his mind knew that he would never get away from this man with that speed of his. 

"I mean you no harm, I'm just trying to find a way home!" Gjorn roared, as he rolled back, dodging the kick aimed at his head. As he recovered, with barely enough time to react to the saber tip in his face. He leaned back, but not fast enough to not have that blade cut his cheek. His shadowy flesh instantly cauterizing, Of course that thing is also hot. 

The man spoke again, but only a few words made sense to Gjorn, "How, Shadows, We were safe." It dawned on Gjorn that something was familiar about the language he spoke. He leaned into his years of military training, his skills as a warrior of the Dwarven States wandering the continent as he let his body go on autopilot. Forcing his mind to focus. Starting with his breathing.

 Dodging another bolt of lightning, and a saber swing. He focused on the feeling of blood moving through his body, till it reached the tips of fingers. The man was speaking that runic language Hjalti said was the root of theirs. More and more words making sense as he forced his mind to reach for the magic in the air around him to translate it for him. He wasn't thinking about the implications of that while he parried and jabbed with his own spear. 

He didn't want to harm the armored man, he knew this would only make things worse once the other lights reached the shore. The words finally clicking into place as he took a shallow slash across his chest. "How did you get to this plane, Shadow? Why are you here, ANSWER ME!"

"It was by accident." Gjorn responded, his own words hitting their mark. 

The armored man hesitated but only for a split second, as he swatted away Gjorn spear thrust. Disarming him in a fluid motion, throwing the spear far off to the side of them. Closing the distance, he shouldered Gjorn. He flew back, knocking the breath from the impact into the stone wall behind him. 

"You have all but a few moments to tell me what you mean." The man said to him, his voice tinny through the metal helmet. 

"I don't know what I did. I sat in that circle over there on the Great Tree playing a song. The next moment I was here." Gjorn rasped out, struggling to get air back in his lungs.

"Why were you playing with magic you know nothing of at Syn's vigil?" He asked. 

"Didn't know it was called that..." The Dwarf coughed. "We retook the fortress on our Homeland from the Gnomes, found the circle later." 

"Military huh, then you should understand that orders are orders. I, as the Valkyrie of Syn's Incandescent Grace am ordered to slay all Shadows I come across." The man said. 

"Syn, that was what Hjalti had said one of their names were." Gjorn said idly as he sat watching the man raise his saber. This is where I die then. Under foreign skies, far from home. Fitting I suppose, rarely do we of the Betrayed Clan get to die in our own beds.

Gjorn closed his eyes as he let the magic go around him, relaxing for a cleaner blow, a quicker death. He heard the world around him go silent, the air stilled around him. I wonder what death is like, If I open my eyes now I wonder what I will see. Will I be with my Father again? Will he be waiting for me a top the spire in center of the Lake? Will I only see the endless void as voyeur where nothing exists? Hjalti seemed to think so.

Slowly he opened his eyes, unsure of what he was expecting. He half expected the armored man to have missed the blow and see his life blood flowing out of him in a slow death. What he wasn't expecting was to see a women mere inches from his face staring into his soul. 

Her eyes burned with the divine fire he had seen on Azu when see ate that corpse. Fire that echoed out into eternity, her light green irises visible even through the blinding light. She was beautiful, her diadem accenting her pointed ears and soft face. "What an odd thought to have while thinking you just died." She said sweetly, an arm out stretched behind her, the saber's blade caught between her fingertips. 

The man dropped the saber in an ashamed look, his helmet now removed as he prostrated himself to the woman. "May I touch you?" She asked, her other hand not quite cupping his cheek. The heat from her hand plainly felt on Gjorn's face.