Chapter 17:
Mimir
“Come on Mimir, we’ve got ya.”
Even if for some unfathomable reason he might have wanted to wipe the smile off his face, Mimir couldn’t have done so even if you threatened to put him back on that accursed tree atop the mountain.
Atreus had placed Mimir’s now oversized hand on his shoulder, Stark walking not two steps away from Mimir’s other side to try and help catch him if he stumbled, which, admittedly had happened a few times. But the boys patience was seemingly endless, happily helping Mimir Master his new body at his own pace.
It was touching. He knew Atreus wished to keep practicing his newly learned flying spell. And he knew Stark could be hurt if Mimir fell on him, he was no God, strong as he might be.
And yet here they were. Helping. Not even absent a complaint but with true smiles across their faces.
Even so, it was strange, to walk without feeling the ground under his feet, the weight of his own body on his legs.
His head could feel, of course. The wind on his scalp, the scent of grass. But the rest of his body. There was nothing. He could suddenly understand how Baldur lost his mind after centuries of such. He couldn't imagine the horror of feeling nothing at all.
He had to walk, carefully, he stumbled and looked at his legs and toes more often than he was used to. The shaft of strong wood, Kratos had fashioned as a walking stick for him through the night; enchanted by Brok and Sindri to never break under his strength, gave him stability it let him sense the resistance when the tip struck dirt to orientate him as to where the ground was.
He looked at his feet often, he missed the feel of grass underfoot.
But these were his feet.
He was moving.
His hands could grasp the staff Kratos had made for him. His hands could help Fern cook at night. He could help tie the yoke onto Gratitude when it was time to leave. He could offer a hand to help the lady Frieren step onto her seat in the carriage.
He could shove Brok when he was being a bloody arse.
It was something he’d never even dreamed of having again.
Magic could do much in the realms. Midgard. Jotunheim, Aelfheim, and so on.
But it couldn’t do this.
If for no other reason; this alone stumbling onto this realm would make this the best damn accident that’s ever befallen him since he was freed from Odin’s captivity.
Strange or not, stumbling steps or not, he would forever be grateful that they came here, that they met such kind and good people.
He needed to find a way to repay their kindness. Lernen especially when he met the man again.
“Hey look the village!” Stark pointed and Mimir tore his eyes away from his own two feet to look and see.
Indeed it was the village, sitting amidst green hills. Fields of golden wheat stretched across its eastern side, a windmill turning in the breeze.
Oh. The simple joy of seeing a place when they arrived, rather than being tied to someone’s backside and gettin a far less enjoyable view.
“Almost there.” Atreus smiled, and tugged at Mimir’s hand. “Come on Mimir.”
“Aye little brother.” The head turned Golem chuckled, marching after him.
“Come on ya big cow, giddy up. Cant let ol stumpy beat us in a foot race.” Brok called from his place on the carriage.
“Mr. Brok. Be nice.” Fern chastised.She was seated at the back of the cart.
“I am bein nice! It’s called motivation!”
For once, the blue bugger’s joke made Mimir smile even more, chuckling softly.
“Dont worry about it Fern” He heard Sein call. The Priest was also seated at the back of the cart, its rear door left open to let the priest sit with his legs dangling off the end, next to Fern. “They have a friendship that works for them.”
“But-” He could imagine the girl’s pout as she trailed off.
They drew closer and closer to the village, the cart and Gratitude plodding along the beaten path.
“Stop!”
The sharp bark of Kratos’ voice brought them all up short the jovial mood evaporating instantly as Mimir’s eyes were Drawn to the pale God’s back just ahead of them.
“Brother?” He called in askance.
To answer, Kratos simply pointed with his axe.
Mimir was tall now, he in fact towered over everyone, even Kratos, so using his height he peered over the wheat fields towards the spot where Kratos was pointing.
A spot that had three cows, laying dead on the field.
“Something’s wrong.”
—
They entered the village with wary eyes and weapons in hand.
Brok and Sindri, of course, slipped between realms, vanishing completely. They weren’t fighters.
Took the Cart and Ox too… It makes sense that they could do that of course, but it was quite startling when a whole cart and blue ox just vanished into thin air.
That aside however, the village wasn’t deserted, they found them laying where they fell. On the road, their homes, market stall, and Mimir believed, truly that many of them were dead where they lay.
But they weren’t.
“Asleep?” He asked, blinking with open astonishment.
Sein, who was helping Stark lay the villagers down in the foyer of a large house that Mimir guessed was the home of the village Jarl or leader, nodded. “Yes.” The priest affirmed as Sindri and Brok dragged in an elderly man between the two of them. Brok grabbed him by the boots, Sindri by the arms.
Mimir also carried the villagers where he could, being as careful and as gentle as he dared. He did not want to risk hurting them; to the point that he was actually moving slower than even the dwarves.
“They’re all still breathing, I imagine even the cows and livestock are asleep too.” Fern noted marching in with a collection of blankets for the victims and beginning to spread them out amongst the cavalcade of sleeping bodies.
“But why? What caused this?” Atreus asked.
“A Predator.” It was Fireren who answered. “A powerful one.”
Sein nodded standing up with a grim look on his face. “We’ve wandered into its territory.”
“What is this creature?”
That time, it was Kratos who asked the question, features grim, frown firmly in place.
“It lays a curse on those within its sphere of influence.” Sein explained. “Forcing them into a deep slumber, and feeds on their life force.”
Mimir nodded. “That explains the problem, now how can we find i-”
“That’s nice-” Brok yawned, eyes drooping. “-while you guys figure this out I’m just gonna…”
The dwarf trailed off and fell right bloody over like he was dead.
“Brok!’ Sindri cried, running to his brother.
Before the ‘cleaner’ Hulda brother could get to him however… he started snoring.
Loudly.
“Man didn’t even try to fight the sleep did he?” Mimir muttered, astounded.
“Shit” Sein cursed rushing over and kneeling over the dwarf to check on him. to check on him. “If the effects are already being felt the thing must be stronger than I thought.”
“You said it was a curse.” Mimir recalled. “Dont Priests counteract curses?”
Sein shook his head. “I can nullify the sleep but it’ll almost immediately take hold again once it has you.” He looked to everyone. “Is anyone else feeling any ill effects?”
A series of negatives and head-shaking answered the question.
Mimir thought for a good long while, recalling the many books he’d read ever since he learned the native writing.
Priests had a resistance to curses. All but the most powerful would leave them unaffected.
A blessing; the books had claimed.
From the Goddess.
If a God’s power, a divinity granted immunity to curses then…
Well…
Kratos would certainly be immune, Atreus too
As for himself, he was no Aesir, no Vanir, but… Freja had brought him back. Her magic might count as a blessing.
“We need to track it down.” Stark declared. “We can't just leave all of these-” He trailed off, his eyes going droopy for a moment before he seemed to fight the instinct and stayed awake.
“The smart thing would be to escape.” Frieren said, in a voice that Mimir would describe as droll. “I can sense it’s Mana now. But it’s a way off. Even if we reach it, we might not be in condition to fight.”
“Mistress!” Fern’s protest was nearly horrified.
Sein’s features were Grim. “I can sense it too. Nearly a half days walk by my estimate… There’s no way you’ll be able to fight off the curse’s effects for that long.
“You’re right.” The Elf agreed.
But Frieren was looking directly at Kratos, who stared back, Mimir knew that there was a time where the pale God would have agreed.
It was not their fight; in his words.
Now however…
“Father we can't! just-”
Atreus’ protest was cut off as Kratos held up a single hand, demanding the youngling’s silence. The God of War grunted and looked to Sein and spoke just one word.
“Where?”
The Priest looked unsure, but Frieren’s expression bloomed into a small smile.
Sein ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Alright. Lets Hurry then. We need to take it down before the curse takes all of you. I’m not sure if I can bring it down on my own.”
“You won't have to.” Mimir said, standing staff in hand as he looked to Kratos. “Brother. You and the boy, you go, I’ll stay and watch over Fern, Stark and the others as they succumb.”
Kratos’ eyes narrowed. “You will not be affected?”
He shook his head. “Nae.”
“I know your situation is unique Mimir but you can't know that.” Sein hissed. “Frankly since you’re one of the only ones who has a chance of not falling asleep you might be better off with u-”
“No.” Kratos; declaration fell like a hammerblow. It made Sein’s mouth snap shut.
“It’s an educated guess, but it is a good one I promise.” Mimir tried to reassure the priest. “I won't be affected… and I’m sure neither Brother nor Atreus will be either.”
“How do you figure that?” Stark asked.
“We can explain after the crisis is over laddie.” He said glancing at Kratos out of the corner of his eye, meaningfully. He hoped brother understood what he meant.
Judging by his frown, the God certainly had an inkling at least.
The Priest looked at him with a naked sort of incredulity-
“I’ll take a bet that says he’s right!” Sindri chimed in. “I’ll stay here, and try to work on some sort of… anti curse charm” The Dwarf looked around. “Just have to wrap my head around how this curse of theirs works!”
“This-”
“No time to argue Sein.” Frieren almost sing-songed, moving to march past the priest and out the door.
“We’re all gonna die.” The Priest groaned miserably.
“At least we’ll die together.” Mimir couldn’t help poking fun; just a bit.
“Atreus.” Kratos barked at his son who almost stood straight at the sharpness in the man’s voice out of reflex.
“Ready your bow.” He demanded.
“We hunt.”
(X)(X)(X)
There's no foreshadowing as to what's gonna be discussed/revealed soon in this chapter Boss.
No sir-ee, Bob.
Move along :3