Darkness. Only the sizzling sound of a candleflame cut through the damp air. More darkness. I realized that I was holding my breath and stopped. The air tasted salty. Like home. Even if I didn’t quite remember it. Trying to navigate the pitch blackness I spotted the source of the sizzling. It came from a small island of light, like a small oasis, sharply cut off at the edge of the thick darkness. It wasn’t very big, neither the candle nor the oasis, only illuminating a small part of Master’s workbench, where he had fallen asleep. I shuffled closer to blow out the candle, lest our home burn down. With the sick sound of bones snapping Master’s neck started turning. White empty eyes stared into my soul as a bony hand reached for my neck. From his mouth a horrific gargling sound escaped.
I awoke with a scream. The fur clad bench below me was drenched with cold sweat. I quickly stopped and listened. Had I woken Master? He would not be happy. But no sound came from the floor above me. I finally focused on the dream. I knew dreams had meaning, Master had told me such, but what did this one mean? What had the Norns planned for my future? I decided I would ask Master about it later. But first, breakfast.
As I stood outside the door to Master’s study on the 6th floor, his porridge in hand, I have to admit I was a bit scared. What if the dream would come true as soon as I opened the heavy fir door? I traced the engraved symbols, depicting serpents dragons and wolves, gathering my strength before I slowly pusher the door away from me. Well-oiled hinges made my heavy breath the only noticeable sound. I peered into the darkness, my heart thrumming hard against my shirt. “Master?” I called our carefully. “I’ve brought you breakfast”. No reply came from the dim lit room, not quite the heavy darkness from my dream. As my heart calmed, I heard snoring from within. Master was sat by his workbench, sleeping. I put the porridge down on a somewhat empty workspace and carefully navigating my way trough the chaotic piles of work cluttering the room.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Carefully I grabbed Master by his shoulders and gave him a good shake.
“Morning Master, I have prepared breakfast.”
“What? Who? Where? I could have sworn…” he muttered as he sat up properly. “Good morning boy” he barked. “Couldn’t you see I was wide awake working hard the whole time?” he said, a grin parting his lips before his brows furled in concentration. I could practically feel the essence moving within him as the porridge made its way to his workbench all on its own.
“When will you teach me some real spellcraft? Like that!” I exclaimed. “It would help me immensely with my chores, giving me much more time to study.”
“Boy, I will teach you as you grow ready. Besides, that was hardly any respectable spellcraft” he claimed. But I knew how hard any act of magic was for him. I could feel the essence moving, as if through mud, inside of him. Could feel it shape his will into runes, into magic.
“Master, I had another dream” I said changing the subject. Nagging wouldn’t get me any closer to learning, only the opposite. Immediately I could se his mood change. His posture straightened and his cloudy white eyes cleared.
“What happened in this one boy?” he asked, the intrigue and worry clear in his voice. I told him of the dream. Of the oppressive darkness and the malevolent Master residing in its only oasis of light. As I finished retelling the dream Master stood up.
“By Hel that is one scary dream.” He said and put his heavy hand on my shoulder. “But boy, you shouldn’t worry too much. The gods like to toy with us mortals. And who knows what this dream could mean. Only time will tell.”
“Only time will tell.” I echoed.
“Now boy” he said and released me, all the worry seemingly gone with the movement. “Those moon-leaves do not harvest themselves.