The sorcerer picked them up, and frowned. This did not look good:
The Rawgr – and Ignorance .
Very ambiguous indeed. The Rawgr could stand for literally that, a rawgr; or it could mean some disaster of another kind was imminent. To even begin to know which, he would have to ask that man who appeared in his vision. Ignorance , though, was a different matter. Did it mean the man was unaware of The Rawgr (or disaster), or was he on his way to avert some great calamity, but did not know how?
Worse still, was he on his way to cause a disaster, and did not know it?
Working on all three possibilities, Wodeman asked his third question, choosing it and phrasing it with care.
Which god causes the stranger’s ignorance?
This was presuming a lot, but if he had guessed the first three runes correctly, it was still a shrewd question. By asking this he was determining which cause the stranger would be working against, and thus whether he, Wodeman, was to help or hinder him.
He threw again:
The Rawgr again, and The Shield !
This was good: it told him much. By equating The Rawgr with a god, it was clear that it was indeed a rawgr – and not merely some other disaster – that was the object of the traveller’s journey. And Wodeman was automatically against the destructive power of all rawgrs. Now he could well guess where he stood; if the man appearing in his vision was ignorant, and the rawgr stood to gain by this ignorance, then Wodeman’s role was to be present as a messenger of the Earth-Spirit to enlighten him.
But what of The Shield rune? It stood for the Skela, the ‘guardians’, but what did they have to do with the rawgr? He went over in his mind all that he knew of the Skela and their relationship with the gods. Soon he came to a conclusion; though it was clear that the rawgr stood to benefit from the mystery traveller’s ignorance, the chances were that it was actually the Skela who were responsible for this ignorance. For ignorance, the sorcerer knew in his strange way, was nearly always due to the Skela. They did not allow the gods to tell their adherents too much; a vision here, an omen there, perhaps the odd bit of rune-casting; nothing too obvious, just enough to keep them guessing.
In this case, due to the intervention of the Skela, the god that was the enemy of the rawgr had failed to get a message through to his servant. Exactly which god that was would be difficult to say at this point, for until he talked to the traveller himself he would not know which deity he served. Cuna the Lightgiver was the prime choice, for he was directly opposed to everything involving Olchor the Lord of Evil. But it could be his own god, Erce the Lord of Nature. After all, Olchor had never shown any regard for the land or anything that dwelt on it.
Yet the man he had seen through the raven’s eyes had looked nothing like a typical follower of either cult. Maybe he followed one of the lesser gods, or even a false one . . .
He then asked his fourth question. He had to know how he, and the traveller, could find out whatever it was the Skela were keeping from them.
How can we know that of which we are ignorant?
He looked down, surprised. Three runes lay upon the earth at his feet, all the last three runes of the hazel sprig:
The Wyrm of Erce . The Tree of Knowledge. The Moon.
These last three told Wodeman everything. The traveller was not a worshipper of the Earth-Spirit, but of some other deity. This same deity was being prevented by the Skela from granting the traveller the knowledge he needed to defeat the rawgr. But Wodeman’s god had found a way past the Skela; and Erce was slipping this tiny sliver of knowledge to the traveller behind the Skela’s backs! This knowledge, then, was to come – as the Moon rune, or rune of the night, signified – in the form of dreams.
It was not much, but to get past the Skela, of course, it could not be much. Dreams and visions could be misread, often with disastrous
The Rawgr – and Ignorance .
Very ambiguous indeed. The Rawgr could stand for literally that, a rawgr; or it could mean some disaster of another kind was imminent. To even begin to know which, he would have to ask that man who appeared in his vision. Ignorance , though, was a different matter. Did it mean the man was unaware of The Rawgr (or disaster), or was he on his way to avert some great calamity, but did not know how?
Worse still, was he on his way to cause a disaster, and did not know it?
Working on all three possibilities, Wodeman asked his third question, choosing it and phrasing it with care.
Which god causes the stranger’s ignorance?
This was presuming a lot, but if he had guessed the first three runes correctly, it was still a shrewd question. By asking this he was determining which cause the stranger would be working against, and thus whether he, Wodeman, was to help or hinder him.
He threw again:
The Rawgr again, and The Shield !
This was good: it told him much. By equating The Rawgr with a god, it was clear that it was indeed a rawgr – and not merely some other disaster – that was the object of the traveller’s journey. And Wodeman was automatically against the destructive power of all rawgrs. Now he could well guess where he stood; if the man appearing in his vision was ignorant, and the rawgr stood to gain by this ignorance, then Wodeman’s role was to be present as a messenger of the Earth-Spirit to enlighten him.
But what of The Shield rune? It stood for the Skela, the ‘guardians’, but what did they have to do with the rawgr? He went over in his mind all that he knew of the Skela and their relationship with the gods. Soon he came to a conclusion; though it was clear that the rawgr stood to benefit from the mystery traveller’s ignorance, the chances were that it was actually the Skela who were responsible for this ignorance. For ignorance, the sorcerer knew in his strange way, was nearly always due to the Skela. They did not allow the gods to tell their adherents too much; a vision here, an omen there, perhaps the odd bit of rune-casting; nothing too obvious, just enough to keep them guessing.
In this case, due to the intervention of the Skela, the god that was the enemy of the rawgr had failed to get a message through to his servant. Exactly which god that was would be difficult to say at this point, for until he talked to the traveller himself he would not know which deity he served. Cuna the Lightgiver was the prime choice, for he was directly opposed to everything involving Olchor the Lord of Evil. But it could be his own god, Erce the Lord of Nature. After all, Olchor had never shown any regard for the land or anything that dwelt on it.
Yet the man he had seen through the raven’s eyes had looked nothing like a typical follower of either cult. Maybe he followed one of the lesser gods, or even a false one . . .
He then asked his fourth question. He had to know how he, and the traveller, could find out whatever it was the Skela were keeping from them.
How can we know that of which we are ignorant?
He looked down, surprised. Three runes lay upon the earth at his feet, all the last three runes of the hazel sprig:
The Wyrm of Erce . The Tree of Knowledge. The Moon.
These last three told Wodeman everything. The traveller was not a worshipper of the Earth-Spirit, but of some other deity. This same deity was being prevented by the Skela from granting the traveller the knowledge he needed to defeat the rawgr. But Wodeman’s god had found a way past the Skela; and Erce was slipping this tiny sliver of knowledge to the traveller behind the Skela’s backs! This knowledge, then, was to come – as the Moon rune, or rune of the night, signified – in the form of dreams.
It was not much, but to get past the Skela, of course, it could not be much. Dreams and visions could be misread, often with disastrous
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