A gust of wind blew aside the black veil that covered my eyes. I sat with my back to a massive tree’s trunk, and five women sat around a small campfire a short distance away.
The tree I rested against shimmered with runes carved into its bark. Someone, maybe one of the women, had gouged through many of the runes with a chisel, giving what would otherwise have been a majestic sculpture the air of graffiti.
“Kuhntul, his veil!” The voice rasped like glass on rusted metal. “Don’t let him read the runes, girl!”
I tore my eyes away from the runes and stared at the women around the fire. One of them pointed at me, and one was rising—Kuhntul, dressed in immaculate white.
“Why am I here?” I demanded of the women. None of them turned, except Kuhntul, and her expression was grim.
“They are deciding, Tyeldnir,” said Kuhntul.
“For the love of God, why can’t anyone call me by name?” I snapped.
“Which?” Kuhntul’s eyebrow lifted, and her expression was one of interest.
“Hank! Call me Hank.”
“No, no. You said: ‘for the love of god.’ I meant which god?”
I scoffed. “Take your pick.”
“Oh, I have. I picked Roonateer long ago when Skult taught me to read the runes.”
“These runes?” I asked, turning to look at the tree. “Who has been vandalizing the tree? And who is this Roonateer?”
“Kuhntul! Do not let him read the runes!”
“I know, Mother Skult. But don’t worry, he can’t read the runes. He barely grasps the Gamla Toonkumowl.”
“Still.”
“Yes, Mother.” Gazing at me, Kuhntul rolled her eyes.
“These runes are what you might call fate or destiny. What we call uhrluhk.”
“Why are they defaced?”
Kuhntul cocked her head to the side. “Because uhrluhk is not fixed.”
“How can destiny not be fixed?”
Kuhntul’s brows crinkled and her lips pursed. “Because we…that is, because each of us… Uhrluhk is…”
“Either explain it, Kuhntul, or cease your prattling.”
“Yes, Mother Urthr.” Kuhntul bowed her head meekly. “The Nornir carved these runes in the past, and when they carved them, they were true. Then, as the subject—or some other person—changed uhrluhk, the Nornir struck the incorrect runes out and carved the correct runes elsewhere.” She looked at me critically. “Do you see?”
“No. How can someone change the destiny that the Nornir carved into the tree? It’s destiny, right? It’s what is supposed to happen in that person’s life.”
“Yes, but each of us has free will. Or, as is the case in your present circumstance, someone with the knowledge of uhrluhk and the power to do so may change it.”
“And…the Nornir allow this?”
“Mostly, yes. Sometimes, far-reaching consequences to such a change exist, and the Nornir must decide whether to let the changes stand or whether to take action to set things straight.” Kuhntul pointed at a set of runes that bore a deep slash through it. “Those runes there, I struck out to change a person’s uhrluhk. Mother Urthr was quite upset with me for a time.”
“You struck… Wait just a second… You said, ‘as is the case in your present circumstance.’ What does that mean?”
Kuhntul smiled at me like a mother smiling at a young child. “Veethar was to die in that cave.” She pointed at another set of runes. “It is here. Veethar dies at the hand of Kuthbyuhrn.”
“But I saved Veethar. He’s not dead.”
“He is not,” snapped one of the women at the fire.
“Thus, the conundrum,” said another.
I stared at the runes inscribed into the tree’s bark. Here was written the destiny of all living things, and the history of all that came before. If only I could read these runes!
“Kuhntul! His veil!”
“Yes, Mother Skult.”
I turned back toward the women and Kuhntul was standing in front of me. She smiled again and draped the black veil over my face and…