Planar Chaos
The Redeeming of Sverre
Part Ten
Rott sauntered through the forest at a leisurely pace seeking out more lingonberries. The early winter caused by the Ragnarok cycle's disruption meant he would be fighting every beast of the wood for the delicious treat. Unlike the beasts, he knew how to preserve them in jams, cordials, and all manner of other treats. There were a few bushes that only he seemed to know about, and they were always laden with the succulent red orbs of sweetness. He'd never seen another being, animal or otherwise, in the clearing where they grew.
Until today, that is.
One of the deer with towering antlers who fed on Yggdrasil's bark stood in the middle of his bushes, munching away on his berries. Juice dribbled out the sides of its mouth as the lower jaw made a vaguely circular motion to grind the berries on its flat teeth. The creature had a placid intelligence about it and Rott stood in awe at the sight. He reached up and stroked the carving of Tyroden's raven on his tusk.
"As I live and breathe," Rott said as softly as his gravelly voice would allow, "he actually did it."
The deer bowed its head and looked at Rott expectantly.
"Hold on, now," he said. "Adventure is fine and all but I've got some preparations to make and things to get."
"Like these things?" A feminine voice said from behind him. Rott turned around and was faced by a woman who appeared to be half dog wearing a brass-colored chestplate adorned with a winged sun disk. She held a rucksack in two fingers and Rott's disenchanting staff in her palm. Her midsection and upper legs were obscured by a breezy white cloth. Her greaves and armguards were made of leather. A curved blade hung from her waist. A diadem depicting a golden dog head surrounded by sun rays sat between her pointed ears. Everything stood out in stark contrast to her pitch black fur.
"How did you…? Who are you?" Rott asked.
"Tryphaena. Your gods gave me a vision. We are to aid Sverre in restoring your world to its balance. We have little time and must make haste." Tryphaena said, trying not to bark like she was giving orders. She was no longer with her crop, all of them were long dead including her twin brothers. Bast, their leader, had fallen easily before Tryphaena, who had been fueled not by piety but by vengeance. Bast robbed her brothers of their afterlife, so Tryphaena eagerly returned the favor.
Look at where that had gotten her. Instead of the afterlife she had been promised by the twin tips of Hazoret's spear, she'd been thrown to a cold world that was dying so it could be reborn. The God Pharaoh had rejected her.
"If that's the plan," Rott said, pulling Tryphaena out of her thoughts, "how do we do it?"
Tryphaena thought, placing her free hand on her chin. "Do the men of your world raise armies to fight in this war? Where do they meet? How do they train?"
"I'm not sure myself," Rott said. "My kind aren't particularly welcome among men." He gestured to his tusks and green tinged skin.
"And I too strike fear into their hearts," Tryphaena sighed.
"You'd fit right in among the berserkers," Rott supplied.
"I've heard that before. It's what the wizards think I am, a cursed or trapped Berserker."
"Cursed? No. You've achieved perfect balance between animal ferocity and human intelligence. They would probably beg you to teach them how you achieved this. How did you achieve this?"
"Where I'm from, there are people who have the head and wings of birds, bodies that are hybrids of man and jackal, our gods are beast-headed as well."
"Where is this land?" Rott asked eagerly.
"Incredibly far away. I don't think you'd be able to get there if you sailed for a year." Her ears drooped.
"Is that one of your gods?" Rott asked, gesturing to the diadem on Tryphaena's head.
She took it off and looked into the ruby eyes of Hazoret. "She was, and the special god of my people. We called her Hazoret, the Fervent. Some older carvings even referred to her as the Mother of Zeal. I cannot worship her as such anymore after her betrayal. My gods abandoned me and cast me adrift for my impiety." It felt good to talk. This troll-man couldn't know anything about her world or the Trials, but she saw something in his eyes that made her feel like he could understand her feelings.
"Well, no time like the present. We should be going," Rott said, grabbing his rucksack and staff before swinging up onto the back of the deer.
Or not, Tryphaena thought. "To the berserkers?"
"Aye," Rott said. "I know where a group of them camp."
They rode quietly through the forest. Tryphaena craned her neck around to see the faint trail of rainbow mist left by the deer. She hadn't seen rainbows before coming to this world. The rain streaking through sunlight was a phenomenon unknown to the deserts of Amonkhet. The Hekma that kept beasts and wandering corpses away from the city distorted the brilliance of the suns, making the light thrown from gems and prisms soft and flat. The wizards in their college used crystal prisms in some of their spells. Tryphaena remembered marveling at the splitting of light into an array of colors when she'd first encountered them on this world.
"So…" Rott began, "abandoned by your gods, huh?"
"It seems that way," Tryphaena replied. "When we complete our trials and present ourselves before Hazoret for the judgment of her spear, we are supposed to go to our afterlife. I was sent here instead, away from the warm sands and refreshing waters of the Luxa river to a chilly, rainy land where nobody is like me."
"Your gods walk among you?"
"Yes. And we can feel them coming. Each of the five gods has a distinct aura. Oketra exudes connection and love for your fellow creatures, Rhonas strength and vitality of the self, Kefnet the inner mysteries of the world, Bontu drives us to better ourselves through ambition, and Hazoret… She fuels it all with unrelenting motivation."
"I see what you mean by her being the mother of zeal," Rott said. "You've been in this land long enough to understand our gods?"
"To a point. They do not come to you but once every century. They also can die. How is it you know they are gods if they can die?"
"If you saw an ancient hero returned in your time of need would you not think they had become a god for their deeds?"
"I see your point. Are we close to the berserker camp?"
They crested a hill and Tryphaena's question was answered. She could see a series of fires dotting the distant hills and disappearing into the woods.
"I didn't think there would be so many," she said.
"The berserkers aren't just warriors. They have families and a way of life as hunters. Only the elite are able to create the charmed pelt required to unleash their bestial nature in battle."
"What happens to the pelt when they use it?"
"It fuses with their bodies, I think, because they become half-man, half-beast. At least according to the books I've read that's what happens."
"And you think they'll be okay with me, a stranger, having seemingly achieved this state permanently?"
"It's worth a shot. You could always scream something about battle. These primitive savages will eat that up."
"Strong words coming from a man who has more in common with a boar."
Rott snorted. He pursed his lips around his tusks, suddenly very aware of their presence.
"You live in the woods alone foraging for your own food, yes?" Tryphaena asked. "How are you different or better than these warriors who wish to harness the power of the beast? The strength and vitality of serpent-headed Rhonas was exemplified in our trial that pitted us against creatures in his menageries. Kefnet taught us the importance of knowledge, but a true warrior cannot have one or the other. They must have both strength and knowledge within them." Tryphaena felt a twinge in her stomach. She was scolding Rott, a creature that most certainly was older than herself. When Tryphaena faced her final trial she was sixteen. How long had she been on this plane? It felt like ages, but could not have been more than a year or so.
"I follow Tyroden, the protector," Rott huffed. "What would I want with a bunch of Fenris-loving forest-dwellers? They don't even worship a Guardian. They worship an animal."
"Then why are we here? You said they could help us, right?"
"That doesn't mean I like them."
"Mr. Rott, I am not asking you to like them. I am asking you to help me gain their trust. The gods of your world chose us to help our friend. Ragnarok is coming. We don't have time for your prejudices." Perhaps, Tryphaena thought, the people of this world would benefit from some of Oketra's teachings. The Khenra, Naga, Aven, Minotaurs, and humans all worked together in diverse crops on Amonkhet to achieve their goal of being anointed by the tips of Hazoret's spear.
"I can't believe I'm being lectured by a kid."
"In my land, I'm one of the oldest living people. We spend our lives training and then we die in the trials. The unworthy are removed like weeds from farmland as the crop thins until only the best are left. Despite my shortcomings, I was the best out of mine. I surpassed our leader, Crop Captain Bast, when it finally came down to it. Her corpse is now dressed in linen and serving those that now prepare for the trials and I am here, chosen by another group of gods for a higher purpose."
"I can't tell if you command my respect or demand my attention right now."
Tryphaena rolled her eyes. She'd always had little patience with scholars. Her isolation when Sverre had met her at Skadivik college hadn't entirely been based on her appearance or self-imposed. She jumped off the back of the still moving deer and took off at a brisk run, feeling the welcome weight of her kopesh bouncing against her thigh.
This is my purpose now, Tryphaena thought. I will take your teachings to heart, Oketra, and help my new friends. I will learn from your creatures, Rhonas, that I may know their strength. I will drink from the font of knowledge, Kefnet, that I may be quick-witted in battle. I will make a name for myself, Bontu, and honor your commandments. Through these trials I will be fueled by the sacred fire burning for me in Hazoret's heart. The five gave me this new destiny. I shall not squander it.
AN: Hey look. Some side character development. I really like Tryphaena as a concept and really wanted to do more with her, but I needed to figure out exactly what. Also Rott has it in him to be kind of an asshole. If you deal with a lifetime of humans simultaneously being afraid of you because you aren't human but also really wanting you to fix their problems because magic, you might be kind of pissy too.