Under the Sign of Jhebbal Sag Mar 6, 2018 21:40:40 GMT -5
Post by Char-Vell on Mar 6, 2018 21:40:40 GMT -5
Under the Sign of Jhebbal Sag
Sigyn raced furiously to through the woods, heedless of stealth or caution. Deftly she avoided pitfalls and obstacles. Aye, the moon illuminated all nearly as bright as day. Overhead, just above the treetops flew the great owl. “Follow! Follow!” it called. Though her lungs burned and her heart seemed set to burst from her breast, she did not slacken her pace! Freedom from the island awaited her, and the chance to avenge herself on those who would have her bear the obscene young of a demon from the outer gulfs!
Presently, over the thundering sound of her heartbeat, she heard the crashing of waves and smelled the salt air. Out of the woods she ran, and onto the beach. The dry sand slowed her progress; it was difficult to walk in, like loose snow. She headed closer to the waves, where the moist sand would be easier to tread. The Owl wheeled west, and Sigyn followed. In the distance, she made out the light of fires, and between her and the fire, two figures headed in the same direction. Sigyn broke into a sprint, determined to catch them.
As she closed the distance she saw they were indeed Borgar and Irb. They turned to face her, Irb raising his spear, and Borgar hefting a copper axe. “Hold girl,” he said raising a palm, “There’s no reason we can’t all…” Before the old Vanir could finish his statement, Sigyn leapt upon him, seeking to drive her dagger into his breast. Borgar blocked the blow with the haft of his axe and struggled to cast the girl off him. Irb thrust his spear at Sigyn, who managed to dodge, but in so doing was thrown to the ground by Borgar. The Pict brought his spear down, the obsidian point scraped along the girl’s ribs and pinned her tunic to the sands. Grasping the spear shaft, she pulled herself up and stabbed at Irb. He raised an arm in instinctive defense, and the dagger transfixed his forearm. Irb howled and agony and fell back. The dagger, imbedded in the Pict’s sinewy arm, was torn from Sigyn’s grasp.
She pulled the spear loose from the ground and scrambled upright, heedless of the blood streaming from her side. Borgar had had regained his feet, and now charged her with upraised axe. She deflected his blow with a well timed spear thrust and Borgar stepped back to make another attack. From the corner of her eye, Sigyn could see Irb pull the dagger from his arm, then grasp it in his unhurt hand, stalking toward her. She blocked another axe blow from Borgar, and twisted to avoid a dagger slash from Irb. Her breath now came in ragged gasps and she felt the strength in her limbs waning. Borgar let out a harsh bark of a laugh, and swung again, Sigyn turned the blow with her spear but the flat of the copper axe-head stuck her temple and sent her reeling, stars flashing before her vision. She made out a blur that was Irb as he slashed at her. The blade bit into the flesh of her shoulder and tore a ragged slash down her arm. She lashed out with the spear, piercing Irb’s ribcage and breaking the obsidian point off in his lungs. The Pict fell to the sand, drowning in his own blood.
Sigyn stumbled and fell, dazed from the blow to her head and bleeding heavily. Borgar closed on her grinning broadly. He raised the axe. Scrambling desperately for a weapon and finding none, she threw a handful of sand into the Vanir’s face. He roared and swung blindly. His blow missed widely. Sigyn regained her feet, but found Borgar was between her and the corpse Irb, which still gripped her dagger in its dead hand. Borgar wiped his eyes and leered at her, raising his axe and closing in on her again. Sigyn felt she would fail to avoid his next blow. Cursing, she clenched her fists and spat in Borgar’s face, prepared to fight the axe-wielding valid with her bare hands. The bald pated Vanir laughed again, and charged.
A great grey shape fell in front of Borgar. There was a great rending sound, mingled with a crackling, a crunching. Sigyn beheld a great grey wolf crouched over the twitching form of Borgar. It turned to her, great jaws dripping with gore. Sigyn sat down in the sand and laughed. The wolf took a few steps toward her rearing up on its hind legs. Then there was a shimmering and blurring of the wolf’s outline. Then before her, she saw Obwey, pulling back the hood of a wolf skin cloak from his head. Smiling, he spoke to her, not in pidgin Vanir, but in the tongue of Jhebbal Sag. “You saved my life Sigyn of Asgard, now I return the favor. Go in peace! Speak well of Obwey of the Ka-Nu when you repeat this tale to thy children.” He turned away, and then stooped once more over the ruined corpse of Borgar. He rose and held on high a brilliant crimson gem. He closed it in his fist, and smiling once more at Sigyn, strode toward the trees.