Chapter 6.
Jakob started to dream.
At first there was just darkness. Nothing could be seen. Lights flickered on and a room started to appear, slowly coming into focus out of the dark. The room took shape with small details standing out. Jakob noticed a wooden shelf, stretching the length of the room. That was weird, it looked just like the shelf in his uncle's house. On the shelf was the same odd little wooden carving that he and Asta had made many years ago.
Could this actually be his uncle's house?
Jakob recognized the long, dark, pine table where he had eaten breakfast that morning. There was even a small cut along one of the legs that he had made years ago trying to carve his name. A pot lay bubbling upon a metal grate that rested on top of the fire pit. This didn't seem like a dream, he could smell what was cooking. Was this magic? Was he actually in his uncle's home? Voices started to come into focus, and with a start Jakob realised he could recognize them.
"…ime for food Asta" his uncle said, "It doesn't look like Jakob will be coming for dinner"
Jakob realised they were talking about him, he tried to speak but no words came out. What was happening? I've never dreamed about people I know, thought Jakob.
However, this was no dream, for it seemed like this was actually happening. His uncle walked into the room and pulled the pot off the fire pit. Resting the pot on the table, his uncle took off the lid. The smell of the meat stew grew stronger and Jakob's stomach seemed to growl with hunger. He tried to move from where he was hidden in the shadows but he soon found that he was stuck in place. Was this magic? What was happening to him?
Padded footsteps grew louder as his cousin walked into the room. Laughing, she replied to Bjari as she grabbed two wooden bowls from under the sink. "Did you really expect less? He is with Ingolf"
Bjari grumbled a reply, "You would have thought Ingolf would let Jakob eat at home."
His uncle's grumblings ceased, interrupted by loud banging on the door. With a tired sigh and a mumble about his bad knee, Bjari limped to the door. He grasped the door handle and pulled, opening the door. Carried by an unseen wind, snow floated into the house, adding to Bjari's annoyance. The late-night interruption, and the sudden chill didn't sit well with him.
However, it was the figure standing there that sent a chill through Jakob's heart.
The figure pulled off a hood revealing a pale faced man. The man was middle aged, however multiple facial scars and a head lacking hair made him appear much older. He wore a dark blue hooded cloak that was fastened with a bronze metal brooch in the shape of a woman's head. His clothes matched his cloak, they looked fairly new and gave off the idea that he appreciated wealth. However, the man did not look like a noble. Instead, he carried himself in the way greedy, unfair merchants carried themselves.
Although, he did not look like a merchant either. As far as Jakob knew, most merchants did not have scarred callused hands with unusual tattoos on their knuckles and fingers. The man's steel grey eyes seemed to penetrate right into Jakob's soul.
"Close the door," he willed, trying to communicate with his uncle. Although he could not tell what it was, something seemed wrong with that man. Unfortunately, his uncle didn't seem to notice anything wrong, the late hour only causing Bjari to be annoyed with the interruption.
The man smiled a crooked smile, revealing pale yellow unwashed teeth. Reminding Jakob of a snake hissing the man spoke. "Does Jakob live here?" he asked.
Bjari paused and considered what the man had said "What is it to you? Why do you want to know?"
The man smiled like he was a cat cornering a mouse. "If you did not know him then you would have said no." He paused and licked his scarred lips.
"At least you know who he is," he said while undoing his brooch. The cloak fell to the floor and the man touched his fingertips together. "Luften forlate lungene," as he spoke, his hands separated and curled into fists.
The man then slammed his fists against each other. When his fists collided, a pale white circle filled with strange runes appeared out of nowhere. Jakob shuddered, terrified as he realised his man had used magic. Bjari realised it too and took a step back trying to speak. He coughed as if he was choking on something, it was like the air itself had left his lungs, he couldn't breathe. Gasping for air, veins starting to bulge in his neck, Bjari fell to his hands and knees with a crash. The man reached out, his long fingers grabbing Jakob's uncle by the throat.
"Girl," he said, turning to look at Asta. "Tell me where Jakob is, or this man dies."
"He… he… he's behind you," Asta stuttered.
The man let go of Bjari and turned around. His eyes scoured behind him to reveal that there was no one there. He realised the trickery too late.
Go, Jakob silently willed seeing what Asta had planned. Moving with a skill taught from years of training, in one swift move Asta leapt over the table, unclasped her hupoks and threw them at the mage. The blade of one hupok flew like a javelin into the mage's shoulder.
The other hupok missed the mage, cutting the air a hair's width away from the mage's neck. In less than the time it took a hummingbird's wings to beat, Asta pulled on the chains, echoing like a war drum pushing her to victory.
With a wet squelch the embedded hupok was ripped from the mage's shoulder, and the blade of the missed hupok was turned into a grapple. The blade of the hupok caught on the other shoulder of the mage and pulled him to the ground. Moving with the intent to take revenge on the man who had threatened to kill her father, Asta twisted the chains, causing the free hupok to hurtle pick first towards the mage's throat.
Jakob held his breath, a palpable silence preceding the decisive moment. The crackling of the fire, the scattered light watched and waited for the sound of victory.
As unexpected as an earthquake, an eruption of air threw everything away from the mage. Rising to his feet, he hissed with murder painted in his eyes. He looked towards Asta who had been thrown by the air against one of the walls of the house. The man's hands spun in a circle, and his fingers curled outwards. "Trærne felle dem," the man hissed. As the man spoke, the air around the man crackled with an eerie energy. The space before him trembled with an otherworldly aura, and emerald light coalesced into a mesmerizing pattern - green runes forming a circle around his wrists. Each symbol seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of its own, casting an ethereal glow that contrasted sharply against the candle lit room
The man's fingers continued their arcane dance, conjuring the malevolence that fueled his dark craft. Each gesture dripped with venomous intent, as if he harnessed the very essence of hatred and malice. His whispered incantations were like the hiss of a serpent, words laced with a potency that cut through the air like a poisoned blade.
The floorboards responded to the call of malice and came alive, twisting with a dark new life. Faster than seemed possible, bundles of branches sprouted from the timber, curling, coiling and constricting they quickly ensnared Asta's arms and legs. The man stumbled backwards, seemingly exhausted but regained his posture so fast Jakob was unsure of what he had just seen.
When the man spoke next it was almost a whisper, however every word he said dripped venom.
"You tricked me," he paused and looked Asta in the eye. Pointing at Bjari, who had collapsed against the wall of the room, the man uttered two words that would change Jakob's life.
"He dies."
Pulled by an unseen force, Bjari's head flew back. His chest seemed to shake, He tried to speak, but the only sound that left his lips was a pained gargle. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped moving. A small trail of blood flowed, dripping from his nose. His body seemed to relax, giving up one last final breath. His eyes, wide open in shock, glazed over.
At that moment Jakob's heart broke. He soundlessly screamed as pain washed over his body. There were few words to describe the pain he felt coursing through his heart. On the floor of the room, still entangled in the branches, Asta screamed with horror, pain resonating from her very core.
Asta's screams, entangled with the branches that held her captive, became a bitter song to the man's amusement. He derived perverse joy from their suffering, relishing in the power he wielded over her life. The air in the room seemed to vibrate with sinister delight, casting a chilling aura that permeated every corner.
The man spoke, voice cutting through Jakob and Astas hearts like the first breath of frost.
"That man" he paused and laughed at the pain he was causing. "He died because of you, so tell me where that bastard is." He smiled, a ravenous crocodile leaning in for the slaughter.
"Or I will kill you, oh… so… slowly."
"I don't know," sobbed Asta, tears carving channels down her face.
"Lie," said the man casting another spell. The floorboards shuddered violently underneath Asta. Without warning a wooden spear erupted from the floorboards under Asta's shoulder. The spear tore through her shoulder as if her shoulder wasn't even there.
I need to stop this willed Jakob, but nothing he could do made any difference, he couldn't wake up. He was stuck there helplessly watching this vile piece of flesh that resembled a man torture his cousin. Blood spilled from the corner of Asta's mouth as another wooden spear thudded into her chest.
"Tell me," The man screamed in a demonic rage.
Tell him, willed Jakob, not wanting to see his cousin suffer any more.. Every fibre of his being screamed with a desperate longing to break free of this nightmare, to rush to Asta's side, and to shield her from the torment she was enduring. The shadows, however, clung to him like a relentless adversary, rendering him immobile, a captive audience to the horrifying spectacle before him.
Asta's chin hit the top of her chest as she slumped in defeat. Quieter than a whisper, words escaped from her lips.
The mage moved forward in glee, eyes lighting up with success. "Say that again," he commanded.
Asta repeated her words, blood painting her lips red. Jakobs eyes, wide with horror, traced every contortion of Asta's face as agony and defeat traced their paths across her face. The metallic tang of blood reached him, even from the distance imposed by the shadows, assaulting his senses and deepening the abyss of helplessness that swallowed him whole.
The mage moved closer, unable to hear.
With a speed born from training, Asta lunged as far forward as far as she could and bit, teeth clamping down on the Mage's nose. With a scream the Mage stepped back, black blood pooling from where his nose had once been.
"Fuck you," said Asta, spitting the shard of flesh back towards the mage, a look of defiance on her face. Jakob's fists clenched involuntarily as Asta's defiance manifested in the act of biting the mage's nose. He wanted to cheer her on, to revel in her courage, but all he could manage were silent cheers that reverberated within his mind.
The act of defiance seemed to weaken the magic pinning the branches to Asta. She fell to the floor, grabbing hold of her hupoks, and prepared to fight to the death. Asta, defiant and resilient, stood ready, her eyes ablaze with the fire of resistance. The room seemed to shrink, the air growing dense with anticipation. The mage's icy gaze fixated on her, his lips curling into a cruel smile as if relishing the impending suffering.
The air crackled with an ominous energy as the mage, consumed by a vengeful aura, stood poised for revenge. Hate and rage clung to him like malevolent spirits, swirling in a dark dance. Every movement echoed a sinister beat, a symphony of malice that painted the room in shades of dread.
"I will find him myself," the mage said in a cold rage. The mage's fingers traced the air in a ghostly dance, a prelude to the impending doom. He reveled in the torment, savoring the power coursing through him, fueled by an insatiable hatred. The room itself seemed to respond, the walls whispering the impending tragedy.
A breath pushed past Asta's lips as she threw her blades towards the mages throat. Time seemed to slow, as Jakob watched the hupoks hurling through the air. Jakob, lured into the suspense, dared to believe in the possibility of her triumph.
And then, as the mage's lips parted to utter the damning words, Asta's eyes flashed with determination as she sent a flick down the chains. The air crackled with a sudden surge of energy. Could this be it? Had she found a way to turn the tide?
The illusion of hope shattered as the mage completed the incantation, sealing Asta's fate. The hupoks, scattered like leaves in the wind, heralded the inevitability of the impending darkness. Asta was once again defenceless.
Pointing at Asta, the man uttered another two words that would change Jakobs life. "You die." Turning his hands into fists, the man spoke one word, his fingers exploded out but, before he could witness the horror of watching his cousin die, Jakob woke up.