Divine Agreements, page 1
Binding Words
Book 11:
Divine Agreements
Written by
Daniel Schinhofen
Edited by
Sammi Katt
Copyright © 2023 Daniel J. Schinhofen
No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without the written permission from the publisher.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2023 Daniel J. Schinhofen
All rights reserved.
Contents
Previously…
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Chapter Sixty-four
Chapter Sixty-five
Chapter Sixty-six
Epilogue
Previously…
It all started with an ill-fated trip to a bar to play pool with his friend, James. From that moment on, an insane string of events carried Sean along. Killed by Thor in a bar fight, he was given the choice of deities to take a deal from. When he chose Morrigan, fate once again moved Sean toward destiny.
Sean was given gifts from the last of the Celtic gods, the Tuatha. However, they didn’t explain what it all meant before they shunted him off to a world overseen by the Fae Queens of Summer and Winter.
Sean tried to understand the world, and even met someone he liked in the Shaper, Fiona. But old plans were already in motion, and Sean was soon directly in the middle of them. Saving Fiona and Myna from death, the three of them fled the ruined village of Oakwood.
Their trek eventually brought them to Hearthglen, but peaceful times still weren’t to be had. Sean found himself in trouble with a merchant called Denmur. As if that wasn’t rough enough, Denmur used his connections with City Lord Sharpeyes to increase the difficulties Sean had. Not everything was bad, though, as Sean found more friends— and eventual wives— with Ryann, Ida, Andrea, Chastity, Lilly, Felora, Aria, and Helga.
The disagreement with Sharpeyes turned into nearly an all-out war that saw Chastity and Lilly die. With two of his wives gone, Sean cut down Sharpeyes’ son and began building toward removing Lord Sharpeyes from power. When the Lord attacked his family again, Sean put him down.
Lady Sharpeyes, saved from iron poisoning, rewarded Sean in the best way she could: she granted him a Lordship, making it possible for him to go to Accord and repay the debt he owed Darragh Axehand. With his good friends beside him, Sean moved his family to the city.
Sean, with the help of Hallie Bloodheart, who married into the MacDougal family, worked to gain enough prestige to pull Truestrike down from the High Lordship he was reaching for. Time flew by as Sean foiled plot after plot that Lord Truestrike had in play, all while making friends with the elite of the city. It was these friendships that let him talk to Trisha Truestrike, the Lord’s daughter. He was able to finally convince her to see the truth of her father’s sins, including the death of Darragh.
Trisha’s siding with Sean weakened Truestrike’s standing even further. In the end, Truestrike disowned his daughter, caring only about his grandson. That event started a tragedy of epic proportions for the distraught young woman.
While Trisha’s world crumbled, Sean finally got his chance to duel Truestrike with the elite of the city on hand to witness it, including the Queens’ scribes. The duel was far from the lopsided fight it could have been, as Truestrike had planned for centuries to reach the status of High Lord. His tricks, including using a Life Bonded dragon, pushed Sean to the very brink of death multiple times. When Truestrike’s Treachery was finally revealed, it wasn’t Sean who struck him down, but Darragh’s lover and the mother of his son, Trisha, who cut her father in half.
Trisha was finally reunited with her son and appointed as Lady Truestrike. Her son, incensed that “his” birthright was being denied him, killed his own mother before he was also struck down.
When Sean met with Advisor Earthfoot after Trisha’s death, he was told that the Queens were on their way to Accord. They would summon him, and he had no chance of evading them. With plans to attempt holding off their anger, Sean prayed for more time when he went back to his manor.
That evening, Sean and his wives went to his plane of Home. They wanted to see Trisha, knowing she’d be there. It was at that moment that something wonderful finally happened: Darragh Axehand, along with his lover Misa, arrived at the gates of Home. Finally reunited with the only people who’d ever truly loved her, Trisha found joy.
Sean talked with Darragh for a while, but he felt the pressure mounting. The Queens were coming to Accord. He needed to find a way to return to Earth to find the Huntsman for them. In doing that, he might run afoul of Thor, who was doubly pissed at him. Sean knew what he had to do… the questions were: could he manage it in time, and what would it cost him?
Chapter One
Sean woke up to the sound of light snoring. He was in an unusual position, amid the tangle of bodies. He never woke up before his wives— it just wasn’t something he did unless he had something to work on. That was why he was awake, and he knew it. He had a lot of things that he had to get done, and he had a finite schedule with the Queens on their way to Accord.
Untangling himself, he managed to carefully slip out of bed. He smirked, remembering both Aria and Myna thinking he wouldn’t be able to do it. Walking quietly, he made it to the dressing room and got his things on. He’d be skipping healing every day going forward until he was finished with what he needed to, so he got dressed in work clothes instead of formal clothes. With his clothes on, he reached for his jewelry, but he froze for a moment, as there was nothing on his shelf. Everything he’d normally wear was now a part of his skeleton, all except for the single ring on his hand.
Holding up his hand, he looked at Dark Cutter. He had questions for the ring, but he thought he knew a better way of speaking with the axe now. Sneaking out of the bedroom, he slipped into the library and took a seat in the closest chair. He closed his eyes and willed himself into something new.
Blinking slowly a minute later, Sean sat at the feasting table he’d come to know from Dark Cutter’s mental images. He was seated to the right of a serious-looking man who had razor-sharp Fey features. “Interesting… no one has ever done this before,” the man said, giving Sean a broad smile. “Your blood is potent, Harbinger.”
“Glad you’re good with just sipping,” Sean said. “What’s your name?”
“Dark Cutter works. You have questions for me, Sean?”
“A couple, possibly even several. How did you survive Cimmacrinth’s breath? None of the rest of my enchanted equipment did.”
“Parts of me did not survive. You have to understand the nature of what I am before that answer would make sense.”
“Can you enlighten me?” Sean asked dryly.
“I am a soul blade. As far as I know, only a handful of my kind have ever been forged in all of existence. To even begin to make one, you need two smiths who are the best at their craft— gods or demi-gods. They have to combine all their knowledge and energy into forging a blade that can defy the will of a god… but every soul blade comes with high costs. Namely, souls will be folded into the metal, changing dead metal into something vibrant and alive. Most choose a metal closely aligned with that end, like mithril.”
“But you’re not mithril.”
“Summer’s an
d Winter’s smiths were crafting a courting gift from them to the one they cherished. Mithril was not the strongest metal, so instead, they compounded the difficulty by using adamantine. They took an already difficult project and turned it into a near-impossible one. They changed the difficulty to only fiendish by making me into an axe, the Huntsman’s preferred weapon. The wood I am composed of is from Yggdrasil’s heartwood. The tree of life, to some, helped balance out the choice in metal.”
“That might be part of the old Agreement that let Thor send his men and Helga to this world…” Sean murmured.
“Possibly. I do not know that answer, though maybe Pagetender does.”
“Not important for now,” Sean exhaled. “What does being a soul blade mean, exactly?”
“That I am as alive as anyone else. I am fully sapient. I choose who wields me, much as the hammer you studied does. It wants the strongest warrior to wield it; that is how the Dwergaz crafted it. The replica you made radiated a fragment of the soul of the original weapon. It is quite… pompous, and not a true blade, being thick, dull, and blunt, as expected of a hammer.”
“Just like its wielder,” Sean snorted.
“Yes. We can be shifted by the one who holds us. I have mellowed since my first day alive. I was to be given to the Huntsman, so the souls infused within me were prideful hunters. I can no longer recall why I chose her to be my first true wielder.” Dark Cutter waved and a woman sat across from Sean. “I think it was her unquenchable spirit. Strong spirits have always called to me. Now, I reside on the hand of a god. I am the equal of all other soul blades.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you survived.”
“I had to give up souls, much as you did,” Dark Cutter chuckled. “I drink them when they die on my edge; I store them and use them. The blood I take has fragments of a soul, pieces that are dying, as they are no longer connected to a person. I have used all the fragments that are not yours. I will spend full souls before I give up any of the fragments I have of you. In another few years, I will have a small Sean soul residing in my collection, a faded copy of who you were during that time. Just like all of them.” He gestured, and the table was full of people. “All of them that I let feast gave me blood willingly. It was heartening to see Darragh reach your plane— he deserves a good life after his long years of service to me.”
Sean hesitated, then asked a question he wasn’t comfortable asking, “Are you really going to lead me to the next Huntsman?”
“I will. I know souls, and I can find you a soul to match his, but I would ask you to not hand me over. The Queens will insist, especially Winter. Her smith died during my creation. He pushed too hard, or maybe it was Summer’s smith who held back… it is hard to say now, as I was not really alive at that exact moment. I do recall Summer and Winter arguing over me on the cooling stone. Winter was to give me to him, because it was her smith who died, but then… well.”
Sean looked down the table of people, then back at Dark Cutter. “Are they… aware?”
“No, not really. They are aware of me, but only me. I talk with them, much as you do with your wives and friends at Home. You could say that I am their god here.”
“Still prideful?”
“Of course, but not as prideful as I was. I deserve some of that pride, both for what I am and who I now have wielding me.”
“Thank you for speaking with me. I didn’t even question it until this morning.”
“I do not mind. Feel free to stop by whenever you wish. I prefer this to the cruder mental imagery we have used before.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sean said, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was in the library again. About to step into the hall, he overheard quiet talking. Finally stepping out, he gave the cooks a smile. “Good morning, ladies.”
All three cooks spun on him, then exhaled. Glorina spoke up for them, “You scared us, Sean. You normally aren’t the first one up.”
“Pity he wasn’t in the tub like last time,” Mona whispered to Lona.
“Myna isn’t up yet, so you wouldn’t find me in the tub with her today,” Sean said, having heard her. “I’ll be up first often until I have answers for things. I have a lot to accomplish before the Queens arrive.”
That stopped the cooks from any banter, as they all knew the Queens weren’t going to be an easy thing for the family to handle. “Can we help at all, sir?” Lona blurted out.
“No, Lona. If I think of anything, I’ll ask anyone who can, so don’t fret.”
“We’ll start breakfast after a quick rinse, sir,” Glorina said. “Normally, one or more of your wives are up by then.”
“They’ll be surprised,” Sean grinned. “I was in the middle of the bed, and none of them stirred.”
The cooks giggled, but headed away. Sean watched them go, his chest warm. His affection for them was growing, and that would make the wait for marriage harder for all of them. Shaking his head, he started to go off to his workshop, but he didn’t have one here. His last real workshop had been in Hearthglen.
“Maybe the cellar?” Sean murmured. “I’m not building any vehicles, so it’d be best to sink it to minimize potential troubles later.”
Considering it, he slowly walked down to the ground floor. As he always did, he paused to look over the memorial wall where his loved ones and friends who’d died had plaques. His eyes went over the cuons and Messenger Fairies first; they embodied his House heraldry. Then, he looked at Rosa, Rumia’s mother. She’d died in Hearthglen, but she was happier at Home, so he tried not to feel too bad about it. Next was Marjorie, Chastity’s mother, who had been killed at the beginning of his war with the Sharpeyes family in Hearthglen. He was glad she’d finally gotten over her startlement whenever he visited Home. Lastly, his eyes went to Chastity’s and Lilly’s plaques, bearing their likenesses. His wives had died in a trial by combat when he fought Einherjar, the younger Sharpeyes, and his minions. They were what prompted him to make armor and weapons for his family, making sure they were never defenseless.
Bowing his head, he knew he could visit them at Home whenever he wanted, but planes walking through dreams wasn’t the same as having them beside him. Taking a deep breath, he started down the hall toward the kitchen. If he could figure out portals, he would see them in the flesh. That thought slowed him down— it brought up questions about whether his wives were flesh and blood, or just embodied souls.
“I should invite Saret over to talk,” Sean muttered. “I have a few questions for her, too. Then again, I also have a dozen other things that I should do… First things first: make a workroom underground.”
The cooks weren’t in the kitchen yet, so Sean just went into the cellar. He looked the place over for a moment, thinking about the manor above him and the outbuildings in the yard. Once he had it all in his head, he walked to the wall that would take him toward the front of the yard. There were no buildings there, so they wouldn’t be harmed if things went terribly wrong. It took him a few minutes to clear a space to make a hallway.
He was just finishing when Glorina came down into the cellar. “Sean?”
“Huh?”
“What are you doing?”
“Making a workroom underground. I’m going to make it lead off of this wall so it goes toward the front yard.”
“Umm… okay? Why make it underground at all?”
“In case my experimenting goes wrong. It’ll limit the damage it does to anything or anyone nearby.”
