Land of Salvania

  Flint pulled a rune from the linen bag and placed it on the table across from the painted woman. Her elaborately decorated wagon was cloudy with incense. Outside, someone was playing a melancholy tune on on a violin. A dog barked, and children squealed. She leaned forward, tiny bells sewn into her red silk head cloth jingled. One of her hands hovered over the tile carved from a troll's lower tusk, her many rings glinting in the candelight. The rune Ansuz was carved into the tile. She ran a painted fingernail over the design, a vertical line with two parallel lines angling off the right side. It reminded Flint of a squashed version of the Elvenari letter 'F'. "This is important." Her nail tapped the ivory. Her entire hand was covered in elaborate henna designs. "Ansuz is the 4th rune by the Northmen's reckoning, an auspicious number relating to the four directions of the wind." A raven watching from a nearby stand said, "Northman. Nor...

  Part 1 Farsinger was exhausted from flying all night, and the heavy fog near the outpost only added to her confusion and anxiety. When she finally found her landmarks in the mist, she winged through the village to Flint's cottage. He was the only one who knew Ravenspeech, and he could carry her urgent message to his flock. He wasn't there. "Fek, fek, fek," she burst out in dismay, using her mispronunciation of Ritter's favorite swearing word. "What shall I do?" "What ails you, sister blackbird?" The voice came from a nearby branch. It was Suncatcher! "Ah, sister bluebird, I must find your Flint. My errand is urgent. My Ritter is in trouble!" "Follow me." Suncatcher sped through the narrow lanes between cottages with Farsinger close behind. Soon, they emerged over farmland showing early spring growth. But Suncatcher kept going back into the misty forest. She landed near a fox. "Hello brother fox," Suncatch...

Farsinger dropped lightly onto the waist-high stone wall, almost landing on Ritter's hand. The wall overlooked a stream valley and the town's water spring. Beyond was the edge of the Dream Wood, the source of many troubles these days. "I have news," she said to the man as she cocked her head sideways. "I have ears," Ritter said. He knew that Farsinger's notion of "news" was usually about some shiny thing she had spotted in the town market. "I saw five brigands just now. They had a Biata with them. It was all tied up like a goose on Yule Day." Ritter was astounded. This was the most lucid, succinct report he had ever gotten from his friend. He waited for her to revert to normal and start describing the colors of the autumn leaves or some other useless minutiae. She hopped along the wall and turned away from him. "They are over there." Her beak wagged toward the Dream Wood. "They have built a small cabin. The B...

  Farsinger was unusually insistent. "I saw it glowing. It's magicked, I tell ya." She hopped on Ulrich's shoulder and pecked him gently on the neck. "Pick it up. It may be lucky." "Or it may turn me into a worm," Ulrich growled, his pagan sensibilities and his Oma's old stories had him on alert. "Then I'll have a nice breakfast," Farsinger cawed, laughing. "Or it may bring some luck. Pick it up." "It's just a stick," Ulrich said with a dismissive wave. "I think you're scared," Farsinger said with a raven growl of derision. And that sealed it. Ulrich picked up the stick. Except it wasn't a stick. /// Copyright

  "Ahhhh!" Farsinger squawked and leapt off Ulrich's shoulder. "Fek, fek, fek," she cursed in Raven Speech as she winged through the trees in terror. It was equivalent to Ulrich's most violent swear word, "Fook." "Gods be damned, stupid bird," Ulrich cried, trying to drop the glowing magic "stick" that Farsinger had said "might bring good luck." But his hand was locked on the vibrating wand, and no amount of shaking would release it. Then a hideous, distorted face appeared in the sickly cloud swirling around the tip and said, "Hullo, there. Got any raw meat you don't need?" /// Copyright