Dolor and Shadow
Authors: Angela Chrysler
Tales of the Drui
Dolor and Shadow
Angela B. Chrysler
Published by Angela B. Chrysler
Copyright © 2015 by Angela B. Chrysler
All Rights Reserved
Cover by Indigo Forest Designs
Edited by Mia Darien
Maps & Illustrations by Isaac Gooshaw
ISBN: 9781310877803
License Notes
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DEDICATION
To my dearest love: my friend, my muse, my Isaac, my mate. You, who carried me from the darkest caves, and you, who believed in me when no one else would, even after reading the first draft…and for that, I am sorry.
To my sweet Tribble, who gave me so much for seventeen years and who passed away just before the publication of this work.
To the people of Norway whose country and culture I fell in love with so deeply, it inspired me to recreate their heritage and, who I hope will forgive me if I got it wrong.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Here I stand at the end of seven years. A part of me aches to reach out to the organizations and people who made my journey a memorable one. To you I wish to extend my hand, to raise my voice and say thank you.
Greatest of thanks to the staff at Google, who gave me Steve: the little, yellow guy on Google Maps. When you spend that much time with something, no matter how inanimate, you name it. Dropping Steve onto a map and entering worlds at a blink of an eye made so much of my imagery possible. Because of your work you allowed me to walk the streets of Trondheim, to follow the river Glomma, and gaze upon the fjords all without ever stepping foot into Norway. Thank you.
And also to the precious staff at Wikipedia; for the accumulated history, the lists of recommended reading you supplied, and for paving the road of sourced hyperlinks that allowed me to journey back a thousand years. Because of you, I was able to find John Lindow and Snorri Sturluson. Because of you, I was able to enter the world I so desperately needed to create. Thank you for being the scriveners of our time.
My sincerest thanks to the people of Norway, whose passion to capture their love for the outdoors showed me their home through YouTube, Flickr, and Google. To each of you, thank you, for bringing Norway to me.
Eternal thanks to my science consultant and cartographer, Isaac Gooshaw. Without your countless casual crash courses in cell division, hydrogeology, Volcanism, metallurgy, martial arts, and, in general, all things that go boom, a significant sense of realism would have been missing from Kallan’s world.
Deepest gratitude goes to my editor, Mia Darien, who polished my manuscript until it glistened. You did such a beautiful job! Warm thanks to Indigo Forest Designs for the beautiful cover. I still love it!
Sincerest thanks to my beta readers for your invaluable input and to all of you on board the HMS Slush Brain. The beautiful C.L. Schneider and Stanislava D. Kohut deserve mention. This is your captain speaking. Both of you did so much for me on my lowest days. I forever look forward to our crazy adventures. Thank you.
Thank you to all of you at Scribophile. So many of you took time out of your day to read and contribute to the shaping of Dolor and Shadow. There really are too many to name you all, but I must recognize Benjamin Scheinfieldo, Jennifer “Sugie” Peltier, Jaselyn B. Taubel, Elizabeth Schyling, and Michael Wisehart. It can not be said enough how much you did for me. Thank you.
Thank you, Angi Dukes, my dear friend, for fullers you deemed “decorative pieces.” And my beloved sister, Alicia, who loved Bergen first. Thank you. I love you, Pea-Brain.
CONTENTS
Dolor
and
Shadow
Sink into my books with me,
I will show you what I see.
“How fare the gods? | How fare the elves?
All Jotunheim groans, | the gods are at council;
Loud roar the dwarfs | by the doors of stone,
The masters of the rocks: | would you know yet more?”
- The Poetic Edda 48
th
stanza
“Think back to the oldest era your mind can fathom, back beyond everything we can remember, when gods were still men who had not yet lived the deeds that would deify them.” Gudrun’s aged gold eyes peered from behind her curtain of long, silver hair. “Think back before the time when the Aesir and the Vanir were still men who had settled here on ancient Earth, ages before their war.”
“Back when the Earth was new?” Kallan asked, looking up from the vellum scroll before her on the table. The tips of her tapered ears poked through the brown hair she had tied back to avoid the candle’s flames.
“Was it?” Shadows flickered over Gudrun’s face and shelves full of jarred things. All sorts of unusual jars of powders and exotic roots had been crammed into every available corner. Dried herbs hung from the crossbeams. The light from the candle and small hearth fire mingled and added a heavy thickness to the room that smelled of boiled heather and sage. “The Earth was still very old by the time the gods found it,” Gudrun said. “By then it was already ancient soil, which stirred beneath their feet. Can you see it, Kallan?”
The girl closed her eyes, an iridescent blue like the lapis stone, and thought back to the earliest memory she could recall, back before the Great Migration, when the gods lived in the Southern Deserts and the Land of Rivers. Back before the Great War between the Aesir and the Vanir.
“I can,” Kallan said.
The old woman kept the dry sternness in her voice. “These are the antiquated stories that predate the empires of men. We have studied the Vanir and their ways, their medicines and herbs. Now think of the gods of our gods, the gods so old that we have forgotten. The gods our gods once taught to their young. And think of their ancient stories and their myths, the legends they once revered before they themselves became myth. And think of everything now lost to time.”
Kallan nodded. “I see it.”
“The Seidr is older still,” Gudrun said. “Like veins, it flowed from the Great Gap, spreading through all elements of the Earth, stretching out, threading itself into the waters, the air, and earth.”
Kallan opened her eyes as she drew the connection to the tri-corner knot enclosed in a circle hanging from the chain on her neck. Gudrun smiled, confirming that Kallan’s conclusion was correct.
“Your mother’s pendant,” she said. “
Na Tríonóide
: the three united. The Seidr fused itself to the elements, until it lost itself inside the Earth, becoming a part of it, flowing with the waters, churning with the soils, and riding on the wind through the air. The Seidr is still there sleeping, waiting for us to remember.”
Kallan shifted forward in her seat.
“When the Vanir found the Seidr, they recognized it. In secret, they honed it and mastered it. They hoarded it, keeping it concealed from the Aesir.” Sadness hovered in Gudrun’s tone. “Afraid the Aesir would learn of their treasure and exceed them in power, the Vanir refused to divulge their secret.”
“What happened to the Vanir?” Kallan asked.
Gudrun visibly fought back the bitter sting of tears. “They died.” Her voice was low. “Doomed to be forgotten, and living only within the ancient stories now nearly extinct.”
Kallan bit the corner of her lip as if biting back a question.
“Deep within the earth, beyond the sea to the west, they met their end,” the old woman continued. “Some say they perished far beyond the western-most reaches of the world where the beginning formed. There where the Seidr emerged from the life source and fused to the elements and life itself. The Seidr now resides dormant in all of us. However, for most of us, it sleeps, available for the host to use, but never awakened, its keeper unaware of its presence.
“But don’t think its power is lost,” Gudrun said. “Even dormant Seidr, ripped from its host, will destroy the life line that has formed around it. It lies sleeping within every man born to Midgard. Just as the races of Men have it, we elves have it—”
“Elves?” Kallan repeated.
“Alfar,” Gudrun clarified, forgetting the word was foreign beyond the Ocean Isle where she had lived for the past three hundred years. “The Dvergar, the Svartálfar. Even the Ljosalfar—”
“They have it?” Kallan interrupted. “King Tryggve?”
Gudrun nodded. “King Tryggve and King Eyolf—”
The name of her father sharpened Kallan’s attention. “Father has it?”
Gudrun continued, not daring to encourage the princess’s interruptions.
“As do the reindeer that migrate across the valleys of King Raum in the north and the elk birds that fly across the southern realms of King Gardr Agdi. The sea worms that swim, and the pines that grow tall in these lands. However, among us all, Men and the three races of the Alfar, only a rare handful are still aware of its existence. Of those precious few, only some can waken it. Fewer still can wield it.”
After concluding her lecture, Gudrun spoke faster, more sternly, leaving behind the mysticism of the storyteller.
“To wield the Seidr is to pull on the lifeline that has formed within the confines of your center. To master the Seidr is to pull on the threads that have woven themselves within the elements. Find it!”
As if suddenly aware of the stuffy room, Kallan narrowed her eyes to better see the Seidr that was somehow there suspended in the air. This time, Gudrun’s smile stretched across her wrinkled face.
“Start small,” she said. “The Seidr around us has not conformed to the order of a path and goes where the elements take it. Try to find the Seidr within you, at your center. That is where it sleeps. That Seidr will know you and be the first to obey you.”
Slouching, Kallan nodded and closed her eyes, then changed her attention to the center of her body.
“Once you master your own Seidr, you can reach out to the Seidr in others. It won’t be as willing to obey as your own, but it too has adapted to the confines of a living being.”
Kallan opened her eyes, eager to collect the knowledge that always seemed to pour out of Gudrun. “Is it within the fire you summon?”
The old Seidkona shook her head.
“Fire is not an element, but a reaction, like when the cook blends stews or when I mix spells.”
“Like bubbling water or brewed tea?”
“Exactly,” Gudrun said. “Fire is only present when other actions bring it out, whereas soil, wind, and water are always there, maintaining a permanent state that defines the Seidr.” As she listed each element, Gudrun pointed to each point of the pendant hanging from Kallan’s neck. As she finished, she traced her finger around the circle enveloping the knot. “The elements don’t require fuel. However, Seidr is living. It is a life form made of pure energy. Compress enough Seidr, and it will release heat. Compress it more, and it will become hot enough to produce flame.”
“And hotter still produces your lightning.” Kallan grinned.
“Exactly.”
