"Can you do this, Ed?" Hrafn asked.
"I believe so, my lord, but," Edvard continued, "some would call this cheating."
"They won't," Hrafn replied. "For the same reason that using Liv would not be cheating." He made a vague gesture with his hand. "It is part of my blessings, just as they will have their own unique advantages"
Edvard held his gaze with his usual calm. "Even so, it is a... creative use."
"If they know, but, I'm not going to tell." Hrafn replied. "Are you?"
"Never, my lord."
"Good." Hrafn nodded. "Then I believe it is time for us to begin."
The battle of six had been set for fifteen days after the conversation he had had with Alva and Leif, since then he had been keeping himself occupied as he could, above all he trained with the weapon, his own megin and with Liv. This last part has been having a serious coordination problem.
Feeling the creature was one thing, understanding its impulses and making himself understood was another. The mandrake could understand a little instinctively what he wanted to do, the hard part was making both of them want the same thing at the same instant, without having the difference of that delay in a moment that would kill him.
The second part of the preparation was dirtier, and that one had fallen to Edvard, as well as his vast means and contacts. Hrafn had ordered the butler to find out what the arena would be, and discreetly plant several roots and seeds all around the area surrounding it.
It was difficult work despite the simplicity, for it was dangerous if they were caught. Explaining why an old butler, or some servant was going around meddling with earth near the arena would require an imagination Hrafn preferred to save for emergencies. The idea had come thanks to Liv, from how she could feel and touch other forms of plant life, integrating herself into them as if all of them were part of one same body spread through the soil.
"Dagny has arrived, my lord," Edvard announced.
This would be the third part of the preparations. The Hird valued Sigrid's health too much to allow her to throw herself into a battle like that so soon, so he needed to come up with other ideas, which was perhaps a blessing. He knew that his old friend would not be the kind of person to retreat when it would be sensible to do so. Briorn worried him less on the other hand, he would surrender without the least shame if the wind blew wrong.
"Ask her to come in."
A few moments later, Dagny was before him with her arms crossed, with the face of one who would rather be anywhere else so long as she were paid enough for her own ill will. "So, boy," she said, without preamble, "what is the deal this time?"
Hrafn made a gesture toward the chair before the table, but she huffed, remaining on her feet. "How would you feel if you had to take part in a battle of six?" he asked.
"A battle of six?" Then she turned her face toward Edvard. "What has he gotten himself into now?"
"It is not for me to say, warrior Dagny," the butler replied.
"I'll be direct," Hrafn said. "You do not need to do much. In truth, you do not need to really fight, to be honest."
Dagny raised an eyebrow. "What exactly would I need to do in a battle of six, if it is not to battle?"
"Well," he said, "it happens that I have taken an unexpected liking to gardening..." Hrafn then explained her role, and the warrior did not seem to have liked it. He then offered an amount that made Dagny's mouth tighten before she could stop it. She even tried to keep the contempt, said that he would probably end up dead in some ridiculous way. In the end, however, the amount was too great to be kicked out the door.
"All right, boy," she said. "I accept." spat into her own hand and held it out.
Hrafn looked at the spat-upon hand, then at her face, and decided that a good deal was worth the disgust. "It is always good doing business with you, warrior Dagny."
"Liar."
"But I pay well."
Dagny let out a low sound, then turned to leave. Edvard accompanied her to the door, and Hrafn, taking advantage of the brief silence that remained, left the office and went up to the bedroom. Inside a pot of earth awaited him near the window, large and full of dark earth. He stood before it and brought his hand to one of his pockets, from which he took out some seeds.
Had this idea in his head since the fight against the mandrakes, since Liv was capable of doing that, he thought he might achieve something close by being a green. But while for a mandrake doing that was the same as breathing, for him it was like trying to swim in the earth.
He has been spending hours a day repeating attempts since he returned from the mine outpost, he had tried with grown plants and young trees, but his megin was almost always rejected. The energy ran through the plants like water on smooth stone. Then he had the idea of going back to the beginning, to what was not yet in fact a plant, something that had barely been born. Hrafn closed his hand over the seeds and remained there for a long time, feeling the pulse of the transfer on his skin.
Then he placed them in the earth of the pot and closed his eyes, sat and breathed in calmly, trying to blot out the rest of the world. The house, the cold outside, the weight of his own body, the smell and even Liv. This was the hardest part of the process, since the world for him almost never fell silent.
It took a long time, but little by little, Hrafn managed to narrow his senses until almost only he and the seeds buried in the pot remained.
Sprout, wake, and grow.
The command came undone in the earth without response, remaining like that for several more minutes. When he was already considering calling that a failure and returning later, he felt a tremor run through his megin, and soon after he felt the seeds vibrate beneath the earth.
Seconds later small thin stalks broke through the surface of the earth, and began to grow at a vertiginous speed, unfolding buds and leaves, as if an entire season were being compressed into a single instant, but it ended up lasting little.
Just as the growth began and, as if it had spent everything it had, in the next moment the plants withered and shrank. They rotted upon themselves as if something had licked from them the very last remainder of vigor.
Hrafn opened his eyes, looked at the remains of the little dead plants, and felt a satisfied weariness pass through him. For now, that would be enough.