A Carver's Sacrifice

Holla was out of breath as she the open the familiar green door to her small farm house. Her husband was right on her heels as they found her sister bustling around the small room in front of her as if she already knew what was coming for them. In fact, it was not a stretch to believe she did. 

Saffy picked up the Holla’s crying babe from the crib and hushed the other two small girls holding traveling sacks in the corner. They were already garbed in traveling clothes thick enough to weather a cold night on the water. That confirmed for Holla that Saffy’s magic showed her something that made her believe the little girls would make it to the long boat docked a half mile from their farm. Just as she’d planned on the frantic run home.

“Saffy,” Holla said, as she knelt to check her girls bags were packed properly, sucking in air to refill her exhausted lungs. “Did you see? The earls guards…”

“Are moments away? Yes, I know. I had the vision not even an hour ago. Likely as soon as that damned earl accused you of using your magic to commit treason. I told you Holla, I told you not to trust him but you refused to accept that you could not face down the Queen’s command.”

“We needed allies! The Queen is herding up and killing witchlings with my gift! Just because she exempts me because of my family name a service, doesn’t mean I can forget her men are murdering witchlings like me.”

“So you expose yourself and your anger to one of the Queen’s earls?! It was a foolish plan and now you’ve put us all at risk!”

“Quiet both of you!” Holla’s husband finally stepped forward. He was every inch a fighter and a sailor, from his fair hair tied back in a wolf tail that frayed from salt water and sun, to his thick arms and axe swinging at his hip. Despite never being blessed by the Gods with magic, he commanded enough attention to silence two of the most powerful witchlings in Validar without question. “Saffy, you need to get our girls to safety. Earl Dalkron doesn’t know you’re here so he won’t be looking for you.”

“And what exactly do you think I’ve been trying to do Thurmond? We’re ready to leave now. Enough food is in this bag for the lot of us and the girls are dressed. You’re welcome. Let’s leave.”

Holla shook her head. Now was not the time to tell her sister to speak more kindly to her husband. She’d had that conversation often. But now she realized she never would again. Holla looked deeply into her little girls’ eyes. Katha, her eldest, held a stony and strong expression that was so much like her father’s. The confidence of her eldest was in stark contrast to young Rune beside her who looked ready to burst into tears. Holla stroked both their cheeks and stood tall.

“Everything is going to be alright my beautiful blessings. Aunt Saffy is going to take you to see your family in Solhala.”

“Solhala! That is the Queen’s capital it would be madness to go there!”

“But it will be too difficult to travel any further in the longboat with only you and Thurmond’s cousin to row. He’s waiting for you at the docks. Solhala is the last place the Queen’s men will look for you.”

“And where exactly do you plan to go? It sounds like you will not be coming with your children which is also madness.”

It took Saffy only a moment of silence between them to realize what was happening. Holla lifted her infant daughter from Saffy’s arms and kissed her head. Thurmond was whispering something to the two girls clutching their sacks that made Katha cry out and hug him tight. Holla looked away, holding tightly to her resolve.

“Holla, you cannot just sacrifice yourself like this. You can’t leave me with three little girls who are bound to be witchlings. I can’t protect them alone. I won’t!”

“You will because I need you too.” Holla felt the growl in her voice. This time she could not let her sister shove away her responsibilities. They had been left with no other choice. “Protect your nieces Saffy. Protect my daughters.”

They were out of time. Holla gave her infant girl back to her sister and shoved the sack of food that was on the table into her arms. She gave her sister a quick peck on the cheek before pushing her firmly toward the back door. 

Thurmond lifted both his daughters and carried them an unnecessarily short distance out the door. He would never cry in front of them, but the pain was written all over Thurmond’s face as he set them down and urged them to run to the dock. They obeyed, but Saffy stared at her sister and ring-brother a moment longer. The disbelief in her face tore at Holla’s soul, but this was how it had to be.

“Return here someday.” Holla said. “Check our secret place for my final gifts to the girls Saffy. Please don’t forget. It is the last thing I can do to protect them in this life. Give them the gifts, and someday help them fight the Queen.”

Saffy looked from Holla to Thurmond, to the girls running into the distance and the baby in her arms, then back to her sister. Holla knew she wanted to pick a fight. To scream and shout as they often did. No decision was made between the two of them without knocking one another around with both words or staffs. There was no time for that now. Torches gleamed into view up the road from the farm as the threat of the earl’s men grew near. Saffy gave her one final pleading look before tightening her grip on her little niece with one arm, lifting her woolen skirt with the other, and running for the docks.

The door slammed as Holla rushed back into the house with Thurmond shutting and barring the door behind her. She’d forgotten they even had a bar for that door. Her home in Validar had always been a safe place to let her guard down. Thurmond turned to face her in their now barricaded house with closed windows and blocked doors.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

“Are you Thurmond?” She stepped in close, setting her hands on his chest and looking up with pleading eyes. “You could still run after them? Could still go with our girls.”

“You need me more. Holla if you are right, you need every moment I can give you to save our girls and the Seagard Empire. Any one of them could be gifted Carver magic just like you. We can’t let them become victims.”

Tears stung her eyes. Thurmond had never left her side, and now he would die standing with her. She wished there was another way. The sound of distant shouting reminded her that all other options had faded away. May the Gods and the Great Witch help her. 

Raising onto her toes Holla kissed Thurmond lightly and moved to their family shrine to the Great Witch Vala. She heard her husband preparing to fight as she reached for her own weapon of sorts. She lifted the lid of a carved box on the shrine and drew out an intricate reed pen. It was painted with red runes and had a tip of unnatural, magic-enhanced stone sharp enough to cut gems.

Her eyes darted around the room seeking items she could use. The locket Thurmond had given her was an obvious choice for Rune. She also drew out a dagger for Katha that would eventually be the right size for her. Finding an object for her youngest was harder, but knowing what she planned to gift her Holla ran to where Saffy had been sleeping and rifled through her bag. She was grateful her sister had left behind the mask she’d worn as part of a party costume to the last ball held by Queen Margova.

“Move faster Holla,” Thurmond cautioned.

The noises outside grew louder. The earl and his men had to be on her property now nearing the house. Holla laid out all of the objects around her and picked up her reed pen. It was a magical object itself, and one that very few people could use. Holla was one of them.

“If the Queen wants to try and destroy all Carvers and rid the world of witchlings who can gift magic of their own, then it is only fitting that a Carver will leave behind the objects to cause her downfall.”

Her husband had his eyes fixed on the door, but after years of marriage and time spent absorbing one another’s presence, she felt his support all the same. Holla pressed the glittering stone tip to her wrist, and cut open the flesh. 

The pen drew in her blood to fuel its magic. She gasped as the connection formed. It had been ten years since she made her last object, and that had been a small set of sensing pins to help the Queen locate the earl wearing it. Holla had felt herself lose five years of life making the pins. What she would do today would take everything she had left. Holla hoped it was enough.

The tip of the Carvers pen made a ringing, scraping sound as it bit into the blade of the dagger. It was an oddly melodic sound, not a harsh squeal. Holla allowed the pen to loop and cut intricate runes along the dagger's blade. The lines of each rune glowed red with magic and blood and life. With each stroke Holla felt herself age in an odd sensation. For such power, the Great Witch and all of the Gods demanded sacrifice. She drew runes of truth, the Ehwaz of trust, the Tiwaz of justice, and hoped her magic would react as commanded. A dagger to draw the truth from whoever it cut.

Holla set the blade aside. As she did, she noted the wrinkles and lines on her hand. If it had not been attached to her, she’d have thought it belonged to someone else. Twenty-five years. She had felt twenty-five years slip away. Holla had no way of knowing what each object would take from her. Carver's objects like these had never been made before. A loud bang shook her from her worries as someone pounded on the door.

“Surrender yourself to the Queen’s justice Holla Ulka! Surrender, and your daughters will be spared.”

“We sent our girls away days ago you bastards! As if we would confide the Queen's treason to you with our family in harm's way!” Thurmond sounded honest, angry. If only they’d truly had such foresight. 

Holla drew the locket to her as the earl’s master of the guard continued to shout commands to surround her home. She put the bloody pen tip to the bare locket face, and began to carve. The Berkana for regeneration, Ansuz for vision, Kennaz for creativity. Each sharp edge of the runes softened into a design leading to the next. When it was done, she held up the metal chain. The runes glittered red with her blood. Holla didn’t dare open it and see her face in the little mirror. Thirty years were claimed for the locket. With the object, Rune would be able to change her appearance to impersonate anyone else. She prayed her daughter would never forget who she truly was.

Something crashed outside. Their “safe” home was being destroyed. She saw Thurmond’s hand tense around his waiting axe and a shudder went through Holla’s body, making her realize just how frail she had become. The life was leeching out of her aging every muscle and bone. She felt weak, and the life in her was still connected to the Carvers Pen. Just one more item left.

“Holla, I love you. Give our girls the strength to fight in the future the way we can’t tonight.”

Thurmond sounded strong, but Holla whimpered with held-back tears as he turned and smiled at her warmly. She knew looked older than his grandmother, yet his eyes were filled with a husband's love. He turned back to the door, and something struck it from the outside rattling the frame and splintering the bar holding everything in place. Holla bent over the final object.

The leather mask was a bare ivory color with veins of black. She decided to incorporate the black lines into her design and let the magic-infused runes flow along them. Isa for clarity, Perthro for mystery and destiny, Dagaz for illumination. Straight lines, arches and edges. Life left her body with each stroke of the pen. Her hand wavered, fingers growing bone weary. She watched her nails yellow and skin grow slack. With a final imperfect flourish, it was complete. A Carver’s object to give the wearer the ability to see what others cannot. Asti would be able to see memories if she had done everything right.

The door gave way in a blast of power. The master of the guard looked her husband in the eye for only a moment over the shattered door. Servants skirted around him dragging the makeshift battering ram out of the way, and the master launched into an attack. Thermond did not give an inch, rushing to meet the man who was smaller, but also more agile. Thurmond swung his axe and the man easily dodged, then he threw a fist that collided with the attacker's arm as the master moved his blade and aimed it at Thurmond’s ribs.

Holla wanted to watch, to fight for her husband, but she had lost too many years now and could feel the darkness forming in her vision. She clutched the three objects loosely and pulled herself over to Vala’s alter in the corner of the room. She drew out a box of hammered metal and placed all of the newly made Carver’s objects and her Carver’s pen inside.

No other soldiers had entered the house to confront her. The men must have decided to let the master of the guard deal with her husband in the confines of the tight home alone before moving to arrest her. She had only a moment. So, Holla crawled behind the shrine and lifted the secret floorboard that opened a compartment large enough for the metal box. 

Saffy had a gift for knowing important information. Some people were said to have good instincts when it came to certain skills. Saffy’s powers were similar but far stronger. That magic “instinct” had told her the family needed a safe place to hide a box of objects. Holla slipped the box into the compartment, put the floorboard back into place, and on withered limbs began hauling herself as far away from it as she could.

The clashing sounds of axe and sword rang in her ears so loudly, that when they stopped it took a second for the ringing in Holla’s ears to dissipate enough to notice. She collapsed on the wooden floor, barely having the strength to turn her weary head and look to where Thurmond had been fighting. He knelt before the master of the guard now, a sword protruding from his chest.

The last thing her husband did before collapsing to the floor, was look at Holla and smile. A scream exploded in her throat, but her voice was so weak that the only sound to pass her lips was a sickening, croaking wail. She felt the tears run cold on her cheek. If there had been any way to convince him to leave she’d have taken it. Even knowing that Thurmond had died protecting their family, just as he wanted, did not stop the pain.

Men rushed into the home and looked at her on the floor, crying and pathetically old. The master of the guard cleaned his blood blade on a cloth provided by a young soldier before stalking toward her on heavily booted feet. His blonde hair was slick with sweat and knotted at the back of his head. His stare was ice as he pressed the tip of his blade to Holla’s chest. She pictured her husband's face, his strength and pride, and decided to meet her death with the same strength her husband had. The tears stopped.

“Do you think a Carver would fear a blade.” She spat

“What did you craft witchling?” The master looked at her with disdain. “What did you craft?! What has sucked the life from you?!”

“You will know one day. When the women of my family finish what I started and save witchlings like me.”

The master of the guard raised his blade but before it could fall, Holla allowed the last vestiges of her life to slide from her fingers as she slipped into oblivion.