IMMER WIEDER

German, "again and again"

Your own brain ought to have the decency to be on your side! -- Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith

Like the last lifetimes this one got off to a very bad start for Diarnlan. A bad start of the skrýszel-related kind, no less. She was in the middle of an argument with her sister when the invasion began. An enormous monster crawled out of the sea, attacked the village, then ran further inland after Diarnlan cut off one of its horns.

The next few hours were a panic-filled blur. Diarnlan, her teacher, and an ever-increasing number of other magicians followed the train of destruction the brute had left. Its footprints were so huge no one could miss them. Yet somehow the skrýszel itself stayed several steps ahead of them. It moved more quickly than something so large had any right to.

A little voice in Diarnlan's mind complained repeatedly, This is all wrong. It's not supposed to happen this way.

Diarnlan ignored it. Thinking about what it might mean only made her head ache.

Five hours after the monster's first appearance, its pursuers reached the rocky foothills of Mount Fángnern. They promptly ran into unforeseen trouble. The ground here was too hard for anything, even a gigantic monster, to leave clearly-visible footprints. And its strides were so long that they had to cover a considerable distance just to find the traces it did leave. A few uprooted trees, small boulders that had been trodden on and crushed, and splashes of water when it waded through pools; those were the only things they had to follow now.

Teivain-rikhon-hrair took control of the situation now. "I'm going to fly up to that cliff there. I'll be able to see for miles. The rest of you keep going in the general direction it went."

Naturally several of the more self-important magicians -- including another of the Great Mages, proof that any idiot could become a mage if they tried hard enough -- immediately began to argue. All of them had their own idea of how to deal with the monster. None of their ideas were even remotely similar -- or practical, for that matter.

The monster got further away with every minute they wasted in pointless bickering. By now it was probably on the other side of the foothills and heading straight for the Fǫnathvollir, the grasslands in the middle of Avallot where the vast majority of the country's livestock were raised. Diarnlan could just imagine the chaos that would follow if it rampaged through the farms there. The queen would be furious if the country suffered a monster-induced meat shortage. And worst of all the magicians -- including Diarnlan -- would get the blame for it.

She marched away from the arguing crowd. All this talk about flying around looking for the monster was just ridiculous. Up till now it had gone in more or less a straight line. Therefore it was reasonable to assume it would continue in a straight line. She just had to follow until she found its tracks again.

Within minutes the sound of the squabbling magicians faded mercifully into the background. Soon Diarnlan couldn't hear them at all. She walked quickly, scanning her surroundings for signs a large animal had come this way recently. From time to time she broke into a run. That lasted only a few minutes before she tripped over one of the many stones scattered across the ground. Then for a while she slowed down and paid more attention to where she was walking. Inevitably she grew too impatient to walk, so she began to run again and the cycle repeated itself yet again.

The trouble with walking across a mountain's foothills was that it was very difficult to walk in a straight line. You found yourself veering too much to the right, and when you tried to correct it you ended up too far to the left. After twenty minutes of walking Diarnlan had to admit she hadn't a clue where she was.

If I was a better magician I could fly up and see, she thought. That brought with it an old and all-too-familiar wave of self-hatred. Diarnlan instinctively grabbed her sword's hilt. Then she became distracted from all thoughts of both monsters and her failings as a magician, because there was something wrong with her sword.

She pulled it from its sheath and studied it closely. Teivain-ríkhon-hrair had given her this sword after her first practice sword broke. It wasn't a soul-weapon; she'd only get one of those if she became a much more powerful magician. It was just an ordinary sword from the local blacksmith. Swords were among the many mundane things she'd never given much thought to. As long as they were sharp enough to kill an attacker she didn't care how ornate their hilt was or what method had been used to forge the blade. So why did she get the unshakeable feeling there was something lacking from this one?

Diarnlan stared at the sword as if she expected it to tell her all the secrets of the universe. It remained lifeless and silent. With a jolt she realised that was the problem. Illogical though it undeniably was, she did expect the sword to respond to her touch.

She put the sword back in its sheath and firmly refused to think any more about it.

Eventually Diarnlan reached the end of the foothills. Or so she assumed; at any rate the ground was no longer quite so rocky and there were occasional patches of grass. In the distance she heard the faint splash of water. She must be near a river. Water usually meant softer ground; the sort of ground on which footprints would be visible. The chance of finding the monster's trail had just increased.

She quickened her pace. The noise of the water grew louder, but she couldn't see the river anywhere nearby. The first time she saw it was when she almost fell into it. A chasm opened right in front of her. Diarnlan stifled a yelp and jumped back.

The river ran through the chasm. It wasn't a fast-flowing river, but Diarnlan knew better than to try to swim in unfamiliar waters. She considered the distance to the other bank. It was too far for her to jump here. But the chasm's walls weren't even. Some parts of them jutted out over the water and some parts were so far back that they were more like slopes leading down to the river. No, it was much too risky to attempt getting across here. But if she went far enough downstream she was bound to find a bridge or an easier place to cross.

I just hope it's nearby, Diarnlan thought.

Every minute she wasted here was another minute for the monster to keep running. If this continued for much longer it would slip through her fingers completely. Then what would she do? There would be a monster on the loose in the kingdom and she would always be known as the woman who let things get so badly out of hand.

Diarnlan ran downstream. She paused from time to time to examine the riverbanks. There was still nowhere safe to cross.

She rounded a corner and saw the last thing she'd ever have expected to see in this place. It wasn't a bridge, which would have been a welcome surprise. It wasn't a narrow part of the chasm, which was what she both hoped and expected to see. Instead it was a boy holding something underwater.

Her first thought was that he was drowning some hapless animal. Children had a nasty tendency to do cruel things like that. She approached with her hand on the hilt of her sword.

A twig snapped beneath her feet. The boy looked up. A host of jumbled images and memories crowded into Diarnlan's mind. They all disappeared before she had a chance to focus on any of them. In an instant they filled her with a feeling of foreboding and intense dislike towards this strange boy.

"What are you doing?" she demanded sharply.

The boy straightened up and gave her a strange look. It was somewhere between shock, anger, and wariness mixed with something else she couldn't identify. "Washing my jacket. That's not a crime, is it?"

Now she saw the thing he was holding under the water was indeed a very soggy piece of fabric. A soggy piece of fabric spotted with red, in fact. She eyed those spots suspiciously. Were they blood? Whose blood? Then she remembered where they were, miles from the nearest large town, and realised it was much more likely to be blood from a rabbit or bird than from a human. Anyway, it was none of her business.

"Have you seen a monster anywhere near here?"

The boy stared at her as if she was a monster herself. "A what?"

Oh, of course. News of the invasion hadn't reached most people yet. Diarnlan fought back her rising impatience and tried to speak calmly. "A monster. It looks like..." She paused, searching for the right words to describe it. "Like a giant insect, but it has tentacles growing from its face like an octopus."

Something akin to amusement showed in the boy's eyes. It was only there for a split second before it was replaced with bafflement. Diarnlan couldn't explain why but she felt sure that bafflement was faked. It hardly endeared the boy to her. Neither did his next words.

"Octopuses' tentacles grow from their face? Huh. I never knew that before."

Diarnlan wasted several minutes trying to figure out what in the name of all the gods he was talking about. "They don't. I meant-- Oh, never mind. Have you seen it or not?"

The boy shook his head. "I haven't seen any giant insects or octopuses, with or without tentacles growing from their faces. Are you sure you aren't looking for a creature that shoots lightning from its tail? Because I saw one of those a while ago."

What? Another monster on the loose? Diarnlan paled. "No, that's not it." She added, mainly because she felt her teacher would be angry with her if she didn't, "Tell everyone you know to beware of it if they see it. Don't go near it. It's very dangerous."

In hindsight she should have known better than to say something like that to a teenager. The boy brightened up as if he'd just heard it was his birthday and he would be given a gift he especially wanted.

"I'll come with you! I can help you kill it!" the boy chirped, as if he was volunteering to help her carry her shopping bags or to hold a door for an elderly relative.

Diarnlan glared at him. She had only dim memories of being a teenager herself -- ironic because she had been one only five years ago -- but she was sure they were nothing but magnets for trouble. Allowing one of them to go anywhere near a monster was just asking for disaster. And tragedy. And upset parents. And all sorts of angry questions along the lines of "What were you thinking?"

"Absolutely not. Go home to your parents."

The boy's face fell. His lower lip trembled. He was the picture of utter misery -- which was why Diarnlan didn't believe it for a minute. No one looked so tragic without rehearsing their expression beforehand.

"I don't have parents."

Oh no. No, no, no. She wasn't about to let a sob story drag her into letting him tag along. She gave him her fiercest glare and said, "Then go and tell whoever you live with."

"I don't live with anyone."

Now he was just making things up. Teenagers did not live on their own. Especially not teenagers who were so young they could easily be mistaken for ten-year-olds. Diarnlan's patience ran out. She turned and walked away without another word.

Behind her came a scuffling noise followed by the sound of running footsteps. Oh no. She quickened her pace. It was no use. The little brat caught up with her easily. He stayed alongside her but just out of reach, grinning like a spectator at a comedy.

"I can help you kill the monster," he said cheerfully. Diarnlan wondered which god she had offended. First her sister's unwelcome visit, then the monster, now this brat, all happening within hours of each other; they couldn't just be coincidences. "I'm a magician too, you know."

"Are you indeed."

Somehow he completely missed the scepticism in her voice. He nodded as if she'd actually asked a question.

"My name's Karandren. What's yours?"

Forget just one god. She must have offended the entire Kóðgodr[1]. "None of your business."

"That's an odd name. Where are you from, Miss None-Of-Your-Business?"

Diarnlan said nothing. Silently she began praying for forgiveness. She hadn't a clue what she'd done, but now was as good a time as any to try appeasing the gods. If they were merciful they might make the brat leave -- or at least stop talking.