Few of these seemed to be in use. Most likely they were naturally formed cracks bridging the gap between worlds, accidental fractures in reality. Sometimes she couldn’t find exactly the correct method, or the right place, but more often than not she found a way to cross in both directions. She designed a delýsíð symbol intended to keep people away from the place where it was painted. She tagged useful portals on both sides with thinned-out, clear delýsíð spray.
She’d only meant to map these hidden gates and find out where they brought her, but she found that she couldn’t stop there. With a can of paint in her hand, Garún started spraying powerful and militant staves all over Reykjavík, a few militant lines that in unison screamed out anger, discord, revolution.
Fimmtán
She was shrouded by the early morning darkness, tagging a symbol in clear delýsíð in an alley off Hverfisgata. Through the thaumaturgic goggles the graffiti looked vibrant and alive, writhing with raw, sorcerous energy. In Reykjavík seiðmagn was everywhere, as naturally a part of the city as clouds were a part of the sky. In some places it would shatter into forms, like esoteric symbols, frozen lightning charged with incomprehensible secrets. This was especially true if seiðskrattar had recently done their dark work in the vicinity. The fractured traces lasted for days. The thaumaturgic power plant in Perlan emitted heavy, huge currents, unnatural aurorae thick with power and sorcery.
Garún focused her will and made the seiðmagn in the delýsíð form in the shape of her intent. Dissent. Discord. Uprising. The noisefiend was buzzing steadily on, emitting rhythmic music, not exactly calming, but stable enough. Danger was just around the corner, police and soldiers patrolling the streets in greater numbers than she’d ever seen before. But she was hidden here. For now.
A man cleared his throat behind her. She spun around, spray can raised like a weapon, not knowing if it would even help her at all, but ready to fight for her life by any means necessary. Someone was there without her knowing. She was being ambushed.
She turned around and saw a man made out of darkness, glowing with unsettling colours unlike any she had ever seen before. She’d never seen transmundane influence truly manifested in the real world, only faint shadows of their real power, like the audioskull and the jawbone. Still, she recognised their influence when she saw it. This was a demon. She shouted in surprise, holding out the delýsíð can like a pistol, one hand held behind her back. Reaching for the blue bone tucked away. Her last resort. This would be her last stand. She was going to die.
“Garún, relax, it’s me. Please, it’s just me.”
Sæmundur. Big, clumsy Sæmundur with his wild man’s beard. The words stuck in her throat and her mind went blank.
Sæmundur?
She slid off the goggles and saw him standing in the dark alley, hands held up in a soothing gesture, his body where the man-shaped darkness had stood a second before. He had been possessed, she thought. He’d lost control and doomed himself. With a heavy heart she realised that she had been waiting for this for quite some time. A doom as unstoppable and irreversible as the sunrise.
Then, she realised: no. Possessed bones would glow in an unnatural blue seen through the thaumaturgical goggles. Sæmundur had been untouched. It was the darkness itself that had been shining. The shadows surrounding him radiated a maddening, other-wordly light, casting him in an abyssal silhouette.
“Sæmundur – what the hell? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’ She relaxed a bit, then tensed up again. “Wait – how did you sneak up on me without the audioskull hearing you?’
She lowered her arm and let out a breath that made her knees weak with the crash of adrenaline that followed.
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been trying to find you, but every time I got close your signature just vanished.” He hesitated awkwardly. “I figured the noisefiend was somehow being triggered by my presence. So I … uh … masked my approach.”
Now that she had somewhat relaxed, she realised with a shock what a terrible state he was in. She barely recognised him. Dark shadows underneath faded and glassy eyes, his skin pale as a ghost and stretched over his bones. He was like a scarecrow emptied of its straw. Sæmundur had always been tall and big. Now he was like a walking coat hanger.
“The noisefiend only picks up hostile intent,” she said warily. “Isn’t that what you said?’
“Well, I mean, it’s not pinpoint accurate. It can pick up a lot of variables. And I guess something triggered a signal that made you think it was best to get moving.”
She nodded. The audioskull had saved her skin several times now. The city was crawling with police and military patrols. Sometimes they were escorted by a seiðskratti. They were trying to hunt her down. Or maybe it had just been Sæmundur trying to find her.
“How did you get past the noisefiend? Can other people do that? And what do you want?’
“I just want to talk, Garún. It’s … ah … well … Things are getting a bit complicated. I don’t think that other galdramenn could mute the noisefiend. They’d have to know exactly what they’re
