Resonance 4th Edits - Bleeding Worlds Bk 3 (28 page)

Hailstones the size of golfballs filled the hall where Kydoimos stood. Fuyuko braced herself against the wall to keep upright.

The crazed embodiment of war stood against the storm, laughing with outstretched arms as the hail pelted his body.

Dammit, that slide took too much out of her,
Jason thought.
She’ll be out of juice soon.

Risking a glance to where Quetzalcoatl landed, he saw the man’s chest rising and falling, but his face was a red pulp.

“I had really been hoping for more of a challenge,” Kydoimos said. “You three are greatly disappointing me.”

While the hail seemed to do little to the man himself, it started to fray and tear his clothes.

His arm…he’s not a Script?

Jason couldn’t make out the number of runes dancing across Kydoimos’ arm, but it clearly didn’t cover the entirety. A deep breath failed to calm his trembling limbs.

I must. We’re all dead if I don’t.

“Fuyuko, don’t stop. Just hold on a little longer.”

Pouring as much power as the Veil would provide into his legs, he ran, plowing into Kydoimos, grabbing the man around the mid-section.

“Come to embrace your death?” Kydoimos asked.

Jason ignored him, ignored Fuyuko yelling for him to get clear. Any second now, Kydoimos would try to snap his neck, or bring that damned war hammer down on his back. But a second was all he needed—just an extra fraction of a second to finesse a second-nature action.

“Huh?”

It was all Jason needed to know he’d succeeded. He threw himself away from Kydoimos and kept walking backward.

“What the hell did you do?” Kydoimos roared.

A loud snap silenced the mad man. His feet drew up an inch from the floor toward his bellybutton. At the same time, his upper body compressed downward—snapping his spine. Limbs went limp and his eyes blanked.

“What
did
you do?” Fuyuko asked.

Jason couldn’t answer. Because what he’d done hadn’t finished yet.

With cracks, snaps, and pops that caused aches in his own body, Jason watched Kydoimos crush up and down into himself. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he tore a hole in the Veil and shoved what was left into it.

The sounds of Kydoimos’ body had covered Fuyuko’s gagging.

Yeah, I did that the first time, too.

“What the fuck was that?” she said through her dry heaves.

Jason didn’t look at her—his eyes remained glued to where Kydoimos had stood.

“I did what Anunnaki do. I tore a hole in the Veil.”

“That was
not
what Anunnaki do.”

“Yes, it is,” Jason said. “We tear holes in the Veil so we can vanquish our enemies. I tore a hole in the Veil. I just did it
inside
of him. He was a Fragment—he couldn’t close the tear a Script,
I
, created.”

From the nearby room, Quetzalcoatl moaned.

“We should tend to your boss,” Jason said. “I still need him.”

“The Norns said Odin learned the meaning of the runes after hanging on the tree,” Gwynn said.

“Mhmm. But there is a difference in how you interpret ‘learned the meaning.’”

Gwynn stared at the line of runes circling Sophia’s hand and continuing up the stump of his right arm.

“Pridament said they were the instructions of creation,” Gwynn said.

He imagined flexing his right hand and forming it into a fist, so he could see the runes dance and skip across his flesh. As if reading his mind, Sophia’s hand mimicked his imagined motions. Outside the Veil, the runes looked like scars carved into his skin. He could discern their movements and shifts, especially when he was accessing the Veil. But here, they glowed like someone had painted them on their flesh with glowing paint. Even their shapes, which seemed so angular and sharp, seemed to flow like calligraphy.

Sophia giggled.

“A little romanticized, but he’s not far off. Consider the different ways Anunnaki manifest their powers. You know some who heal, shift rocks, or move at incredible speeds. They’re able to do those things because they resonate with those aspects of the world. Basic elementary school science teaches us all things in the physical universe are composed of the same basic building block. The earth you walk on, blood and healing properties within the body, even the air you breath, are all composed of the same things as your own body and mind.”
 

She opened her right hand and the runes shifted into different patterns. For a moment, Gwynn thought he saw something familiar in their shapes.

“These runes,” Sophia said, “aren’t a written language. Yes, Odin delivered those types of runes to the Nordic people, but his understanding of Anunnaki runes was different. He couldn’t read them, per se, but he understood they weren’t just things carved into his flesh. They were outward manifestations of a process occurring within his own body. These instructions told the world around him what he held a mastery over—as if God stamped him with an official seal. The Veil supplies the power, but the runes, the composition of your own mind and body, control the effects.”

The darkness surrounding them began to soften with a hazy green glow coming from the walls. As he looked closer, Gwynn saw this wasn’t just a light, but the glow of millions of runes, coursing along the interior of Yggdrasil.

“There’s so many,” he marvelled.

“This,” she nodded over his shoulder toward the runes, “is the script of creation. All the instructions for the workings of the universe and every song shaping the behavior of each living thing. This is the closest thing I know of to God. It doesn’t hate or love, there is no judgement, there’s only creation and beauty.”

His mind raced at the possibilities of what contact would feel like.

“Go ahead,” Sophia said. “It’s part of why you’re here.”

A chill ran through Gwynn, his nerve twisting into a knot in his stomach.

“What will it feel like?” he asked.

“There’s only one way to find out. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.”

They glided toward the stream of runes. Gwynn reached a tentative hand outward and eased it into the current. His body went straight and rigid as the sensation of cold water poured over, and then into, his hand, up his arm, and filled his body from the center outward.

“Oh God,” Gwynn said through grit teeth. “It’s too much. I can’t contain it all.”

Sophia pressed her right hand into the stream. Instead of being filled to the point of bursting, it changed to a current, rushing in his left arm, circulating through his body, and leaving through the remains of his right arm and Sophia’s hand.

“I said you would need me,” she said.

“But you’re only touching it with one hand. How is it flowing out of me but not hurting you?”

Warm lips brushed against his neck.

“Silly boy. In this place of souls, we’re as close to being one as any two can. Besides,
it
wants this.”

“It?” he asked. “You mean the tree—Yggdrasil?”

“Mhmm. I told you, the Veil thrives from its connection to our world. Even if the tree doesn’t actually say so, it still has a will. And that’s for you to keep the cycle intact. Now stop asking silly questions and concentrate. You’ll need what you learn here when you visit the well for your arm.”

“I will be able to get my ar—”

“Shush. Concentrate. Try to feel the flow of energy and understand its meaning.”

The energy ran into his body through his hand. What was there to learn? Looking closer at his left hand, he saw the runes flowed around his hand like a rock in a stream.

“But…” He flexed his hand within the flow of runes. “It feels like…”

“Keep going,” she said.

Gwynn tried to focus on the point of contact—ignoring the rushing cold within his body.

Is it flowing into my hand?

“It’s not, is it?” he said aloud. “But if it’s not flowing into me…”

The sensation wasn’t dissimilar to tearing the Veil. To his mind, he’d always envisioned the energy of the Veil flowing into him. But what if that wasn’t true? What if contacting the Veil just awakened something inside him?

“The runes in the tree are causing a reaction in my body—nothing is flowing into me. Which means you don’t have anything flowing out your arm back to the tree. You’re just…calming the reaction inside me?”

“Good, yes. Everything is connected. The barriers between ourselves, the Veil, and everything in our world are based on the arrangements of energy. What if I told you the sensations you’re experiencing are your own runes, or atoms, or godhood, whatever you want to call it, resonating with those of Yggdrasil?”

“But I felt it everywhere, like my whole body was filled.”

“Do you think a Fragment would feel the same thing?”

Gwynn smiled.

“I’m guessing the answer is, no. You wouldn’t ask me otherwise.”

“True,” she said. “So if your entire body is reacting to these runes…”

“Then they exist within me. And if they exist within me…”

“You can control them. Contacting the stream is awakening even the most dormant of your abilities. This is what it means to learn the runes. Test it against the tree—just by trying to alter the flow.”

He used the same technique Fuyuko taught him all those years ago—creating an image in his mind. As silly as it seemed, he envisioned his hand emitting a gust of wind—scattering the runes like a leaf blower sends leaves flying.

The runes’ motion flickered—no more than a pebble thrown in a river.

Gwynn set his jaw and envisioned the stream of wind from his hand increasing.

He could swear the runes were laughing at his efforts and mocking him with their persistence.

“Dammit. You say Woten did this all on his own?”

He felt Sophia shrug behind him.

“To be fair, he had been an Anunnaki for a lot longer. And people were generally more aware of their bodies and nature. Over time, our dependance on technology has separated us from both.”

Gwynn tried harder, imagined the power dragging from his feet and the top of his head, pressing up and down, and out his hand. Beads of sweat trickled down his trembling face.

“I…can’t.”

His hand dropped from the rune stream. Breaths came in ragged, uneven, heaves.

“Dammit.”

Sophia released her grip on his abdomen and let her left hand rest on his.

“You’re trying to fight against all of creation through blunt force. Do you really think that’s going to work?”

He couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or seriously asking.

“Plenty can be accomplished through force of will,” she said, not waiting for his answer. “But change is a lot easier if you can get others on your side. Don’t try to move the whole stream at once—instead, try to encourage the closest ones to move, and let them spread the word along the stream. Think of it like basic science—transfer of energy. A cup which is cold heats up as it absorbs the energy from the heated liquid inside. You can do the same thing—transfer a bit of your energy, and let the rest travel through osmosis.”

When his breathing normalized, Gwynn eased his hand back into the stream of runes.

Not a gust of wind, blowing all of them away.

Gwynn searched for a new image, finally settling on the one Sophia planted in his mind.

Just like hot liquid, my hand is an energy source.

He tried to envision it—energy radiating in small waves from his hand, infecting the immediate area, which then transmitted the energy—his very will—out to the rest.

It took a minute, then the runes flickered, and the ones closest to his hand shifted.

The shifting and flickering turned to waves, crashing away from his hand in all directions.

“Wow.”

The surprise in her voice made him smile.

“Your hot cup analogy worked,” he said.

“Apparently.”

Next, he moved on to recognizing specific runes—making runes signifying water brighter, shifting fire runes to the left. It all hinged on finding the right image in his mind.

“Congratulations.” Her warm breath tickled his ear. “You’ve attained the same power as the All-Father.”

“Does that mean I can get my arm and go home?”

“Soon. Just a little more.”

She backed away. It felt like losing a piece of himself.

Gravity slammed into him like a fist, pushing him downward with the flow of Yggdrasil’s runes.

“Sophia!”

Had she been holding him up all this time?
 

“It’s okay,” she said.

Her voice still sounded near, though he couldn’t see her.

“Fall, fall, fall,” she said. Her voice sounded singsongy, dreamy, like she wasn’t actually talking to Gwynn. “A dragon for evil and a dragon for good. The shadow rises. Don’t let it drown you.”

“Help me,” he said. “I’m falling.”

The glow of Yggdrasil’s runes snapped off, like someone hit a switch.

This feels familiar. Have I been here before?

“It’s the final step,” Sophia said directly into his ear. “Will you dare what even Odin did not?”

“I did this before. Pridament stopped me—he said I was going out of control.”

“Mhmm. I guess that could happen. But how do you know until you try?”

“But I have a family to get back to. You said I needed to stop Cain.”

Her fingers brushed his cheek.

“You wanted the power to defeat him, didn’t you?” she asked. “If so, this is the final step of your journey. Being able to reach out to the world, to let yourself be absorbed into it, will bridge the distance between you, Odin, Cain, and any others who might challenge you. Because opening yourself to others is the place neither of those men could go.”

With the glow of the runes gone, Gwynn couldn’t see anything. But he still closed his eyes, making the darkness personal. Slow breaths, a steady rhythm of inhalation and exhalation, fought against the raging of his heart.

Just let go.

Were these his own thoughts, or had Sophia said the words?

Just let go.

This time, these were his own.