Page 14 of Heart of the Mountain King

Arndra was watching Rask again, her gaze sharp and disconcerting.

Rask quickly looked away.

"Alright then, it's settled," the blustery man declared with a clap of his hands, turning to the other humans. "Arndra, Sten, and…Rask will perform this ritual, Sten will pay for Rask's services, and the entire village will work on how to help him do that safely, yes?"

The crowd's answer was a little more uncertain this time and lacked the fervor of before, but it was agreement all the same.

Once more, Rask turned to the rock face below the ridge, and once more he placed his palm against the cool surface, humming up his magic to join the Song. When he found his moment, he lifted his hand slightly, murmuring a hasty, "Now," to Sten's mother.

She didn't hesitate, slipping her tiny hand under Rask's just in time for him to push his melody through flesh and bone and rock and void and —

"Oh," Arndra breathed out softly, the sound protective and raw. "I'm sorry we didn't understand you. We'll do better, I promise. Thank you. For… for everything."

She was quiet for a full beat before turning to Rask. "I think I've heard enough now."

"Ma?" Sten asked as Rask released Arndra's hand, his expression pinched with concern, catching her when she stumbled slightly.

"I'm fine," Arndra assured him, patting Sten's shoulder. "But… your grandmother used to tell me a story of when she was a little girl, and once found herself lost in the quarry. She always claimed the wind had carried her out. I-I never believed her, but — the vættir have been watching us for a long time, haven't they?"

Arndra turned familiar wide eyes on Rask then, and for a moment, Rask wondered if Sten had inherited any traits from his father's side at all.

"When Várvörsága forged Sunless Land from Devourer's corpse, vættir appeared. Maybe here before even that. Long before humans, before even bergsrår. Here long after, too." Rask shrugged.

"Then… I thank you, Rask, for the service you've done us today," Arndra said. "I'm sure Triggy told you the situation has been escalating. I fear what may have happened had you not come. It would make my job easier if vættir didn't go around breaking our thane's property to get our attention, but it's far better to sacrifice a tool than a neighbor."

Rask pursed his lips as he mulled it over, before pressing his palms to the rock once more. After a moment, his throat still buzzing with the magic, he opened his eyes.

"Vættir say: where humans see puddles, humans no dig," he told them, before his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Vættir very excited. Thank Arndra for game."

"A game?" Sten echoed, his forehead creasing. "And…we can trust that?"

"Sten heard vættir," Rask chided him. "Vættir not good liars. Like younglings too eager for game. Tell on self. Very easy to spot."

"What if it's raining?" the blustery man Arndra had named Ojson asked.

Rask shot him a look. "Humans dig in rain?

"Well, no, but — "

"Then good enough," Rask decided. "Vættir stop breaking human tools; bring up water to warn instead, keep safe areas dry. But Arndra tell village: no touch it, no drink it, no fire near it. Vættir not understand what might poison humans. Not safe."

"I'll make sure of it," Arndra said. "I assume this…game will also require a payment?"

Rask nodded.

"Sweat, lambs wool, and brännvin," he told her. "In three little carved cups of bone, wood, and stone. Fresh each ninthday; sung over at daybreak, noon, and dusk."

The woman who'd stepped forward earlier whistled sharply. "That's a lot of effort."

"Bigger effort for vættir," Rask pointed out. "But do, do not; not Rask's problem. Sten tell story of friend's fall. When happen again — if Sten's brother, or sister, or thane's child next time? Then maybe Arndra listen."

"Arndra is listening now," she replied with a wry twist of a smile. "I'll see it done."

"Hey Rask?" Sten called softly, looking between them both. "You never said: why do the vættir seem to care so much what happens to us? Why have they been watching over this village so long?"

Rask grinned at the bold little human. "Easy. Villagers sing as they work. Vættir like songs."

Sten barked a laugh. "Well, then I suppose we'd best make sure to keep singing for them. Perhaps we'll pay the next bard who comes through the village to write a song about the vættir themselves, and what excellent guardians they are, eh?"