The Rot

by Siri Pettersen

  Hirka felt queasy. She couldn’t heal herself like the blind, that much was for certain. And nothing seemed to indicate that she would live longer than a human. Even with the more keenly developed senses. Abilities she’d used her entire life without thinking about them. That was how she always knew whether someone was going to die, whether they had a mortal wound. The smell.

  Graal put his hands on her shoulders, his claws pointing at her chest from each side. Like decorative pauldrons. Armor. He was her armor. His blood. Hers.

  Dreyri.

  SOPPY

  The hospital was bathed in sunshine. Nature outshone everything she’d experienced, continuing its cycle, changing slowly from winter to spring. But what about when this world died? Would the light die, too? And when would that happen? Not overnight, she’d realized that. Even the Might didn’t move that quickly.

  She walked up the steps and inside. The corridors seemed bigger than before. Less scary. She was still an outsider, but she wasn’t worried about anyone stopping her or asking what she was doing there. It didn’t matter anymore. Human rules didn’t apply to her.

  Father Brody was lying alone in a room with two beds. He was awake. The curtains were drawn. The sunlight hit his pillow, shining in his thin hair. His face wasn’t as round as it used to be.

  She walked over to the bed. His face lit up when he spotted her. It was the first time she’d seen him smile without looking like he needed a wee.

  “My dear girl, I thought the Lord had taken you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t have any tubes going into his hands, like Isac had had. There was fruit and chocolate on his bedside table. He was okay. She could smell it.

  She took his hand. “He certainly tried.”

  It was strange to see him in such a way. White shirt and bare arms. More man than priest. He squeezed her hand in both of his. “I don’t know where to start. Everything keeps slipping away from me.”

  “You don’t need to start anywhere, Father Brody. I know what happened.”

  “They’ve asked me to tell them if you come. Are you in trouble? Is it them? The ones who …” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. His eyes were still just as kind, but she could also see a shadow of pain in them that she knew would be there for a long time. Maybe forever.

  Hirka shook her head. “Not anymore, Father Brody. I’m okay now.”

  “What happened?”

  “I found the devil.”

  He stroked her hand, not saying anything for a few moments. Then the color returned to his face. “Where’s your bird? The raven that got sick. Did it recover?”

  Hirka lowered her gaze. “No, he died.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yes. He … I met an old friend. He did something awful, but he’s gone back home now. I might never see him again.”

  “That’s a shame, Hirka. But you’re strong. Strong enough to forgive. Do you know him well?”

  Hirka remembered pumping music. Rime glowing in a dark sea of people. The kiss. Frantic and intense. The mere memory made her heart start pounding.

  “Yes. Too well.”

  “Anger won’t help you, Hirka.”

  “I know, Father Brody.”

  They looked at each other for a moment. Hirka was waiting for the regret to kick in, regret that she had to leave, but it didn’t. This world had never been for her.

  “Father Brody, I have to go home. And we probably won’t see each other again.”

  He looked out the window and nodded. She had a feeling he understood a lot more than he was letting on.

  “But I have something for you,” she said, rummaging in her pocket. She found one of the blood stones and put it on the bedside table. “It’s small but very valuable. I promise it’s not stolen.” She found the piece of paper with Allegra’s phone number and left that next to it, putting his glass on top so it wouldn’t be lost. “And here’s a number you can call to get a good price. Don’t let her fool you. She’s got lots of money. You can use it to fix the church. Or give it to the poor. Whatever you think’s best.”

  Father Brody opened his mouth, but she warded off his protests by taking his chocolate. “I’ll take this, so we’re … what’s the word?”

  “Even?”

  “Even.” She put the chocolate in her bag. He gave a croaky laugh, eyes full of wonder, as if he’d forgotten how laughter was supposed to sound.

  “Hirka, you have no idea how many times I’ve asked the Almighty why you came into my life. And why He wanted to put me in here. Burn his house. But I haven’t been given any answers.”

  Hirka shouldered her bag again. “Stefan says some men just want to see the world burn. They don’t even know why.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for everything, Father Brody.”

  She left feeling better than she’d thought she would. Outside, birds chattered in the hedge. The trees had started to come into leaf, and the smell of spring hung in the air.

  Stefan was waiting for her in the car park. He was leaning against a car he’d rented but straightened up as soon as he spotted her. He would drive her to the hotel and Graal would collect her from there. Then she would travel to the world of the blind. What would happen after that was anyone’s guess.

  Stefan ran his fingers through his hair. “Was he okay?”

  “He will be.”

  “Good.”

  “I gave him one of the stones.”

  “Brilliant use of resources. It’ll be wasted on religious propaganda.”

  She handed him the two other stones. “Here. Get yourself a life.”

  “Hirka …”

  “None of that, Stefan. You need a life. Pay your debt to Nils. Get him to fly you somewhere.”

  He stroked the stones with his thumb. “You promised them to Allegra.”

  “No, I promised she’d get them if I sold them. Now I’m giving them away. That’s different. Sell them to her, if you like.”

  He shook the black stones in his fist. They clacked against each other. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

  “Yes, I know. You’re a real … what’s it you always say?”

  “Hero?”

  “Bastard.”

  Hirka shoved her hand in her pocket, found the piece of paper, and gave it to him. “I have something else for you. It’s a phone number.”

  “I already have one, but cheers.” He grinned and put the stones in his pocket.

  “It belongs to someone you know.”

  He looked at her. His smile faltered, as if he knew something serious was coming. “Who?”

  “Your mum.”

  Stefan’s face turned ashen. Hirka was quick to reassure him. “She’s doing fine. She’s been away from Graal for eight years and managed well. Graal has some of my blood and says she can be saved. If you want.”

  He leaned back and gripped the roof of the car. Exhaled. His stomach was flatter now.

  “She can’t be saved, Hirka. Even if the rot is stopped, she’s terminally ill. She was ill before she met him. She’s going to die, okay?”

  “Everyone dies. We’re already dead,” Hirka replied, stepping closer to him. He immediately let go of the car and put his arms around her. She could no longer feel the chain around his neck. Nowhere to keep teeth.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

  “No, but I have to go anyway.”

  “Just so you know, that sucks. Are there any magical spells or things I can use? Run naked around the church three times under a full moon or something? I have to be able to visit you somehow, right?”

  “You’re too old for me,” she said with a smile.

  He laughed. “So what happened to the ninja? The boy, I mean?”

  Hirka didn’t reply. She’d thought that Stefan would be the one to fall, and Rime the one to rise. Everything was turned on its head. She felt dizzy. Had she remembered to take her iron tablets?

  Hirka pulled away from Stefan
and they both got into the car. He reached into the back and grabbed a plastic bag. “I have something for you, too,” he said, dropping the bag in her lap.

  “A present?”

  “No, Jesus, not a fucking present, just a … something I found.” He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

  “I didn’t think you were …” She tried to remember the word. It was one of the first he’d taught her. It was in her notebook. “Soppy.”

  “Soppy?”

  “Sentimental. Romantic. Soppy.”

  “Do you want it or not?” He went to take the bag back, but she tore it away from him and opened it. There was a shirt inside. She held it up against herself. It had short sleeves and was a nice soft green color, with a red cross and white letters on the chest.

  “What does it say?”

  “I survived the zombie apocalypse,” he grinned, as if it were self-explanatory. Then he realized she didn’t understand. “The apocalypse, yeah?” He looked at her. “The end of the world? And zombies are kind of like … oh, forget it. It’s funny. I considered one of those ‘I’m flying solo’ things, but …”

  She leaned toward him and kissed him on his unshaven jaw. His cheeks flushed.

  “You just seem older. Sometimes. That’s all,” he muttered, starting the car.

  THE GATEWAYS

  “Are you allowed to land here?” Hirka asked. The question seemed to amuse Graal. He pulled handles and pressed buttons. The insect carriage touched down. The wings slowed on the roof, the noise diminishing to small sighs.

  “Yes, you just need permission from the landowner. That was easy enough. Finding out where you came through was more difficult. Had Rime not ended up with the police on his back in Southampton, it could have taken a lot longer to find the right stone circle.”

  “I see,” she said, as if she knew what he was talking about.

  “But we’d better get a move on,” he said. “Those clouds look heavy, and there’s going to be a lot of wind.”

  They left the carriage and continued on foot across the barren upland. The sky was gray and the wind was picking up already.

  Graal was carrying a black box. She was carrying her bag. It was heavier now, because of the box containing the Seer’s heart. Proof that the enemy of the people had been defeated. But she hadn’t wanted him dead. And Graal had been willing to let her travel with him. Rime’s bloodthirst was to blame for Naiell not walking by her side right now.

  They reached the crest of one of the rolling hills and saw the stone circle. Around thirty stones, with more lying on the ground. Half consumed by moss and heath. Nothing compared to the raven ring in Mannfalla, but there was something nice about the stones being a bit smaller. And so roughly hewn.

  This was where she’d come through. She’d expected to feel the same panic as last time, but she didn’t. Maybe because there were no signs of life. Just open countryside. It was as if the city didn’t even exist. Here everything was silent. She felt closer to the Might.

  They stopped in the middle of the circle. Graal put down the box and undid a catch by the handle. Then he lifted out the glass cage with the raven cadaver. Though it was more skeleton than cadaver, really. Very little remained in the way of flesh and feathers.

  Graal looked at her. A few moments passed before he spoke. “It won’t be easy.”

  “So you keep saying,” she replied. It was difficult to leave it at that. She wished she could be furious with him. Say that if he was so worried about her, he could let her travel back to Ym and stay there. To Slokna with getting the blind through the gateways. Forget the Might and die among the humans as any respectable person would.

  But she couldn’t say anything. He had to believe in her. Believe she could help him. Otherwise he would keep her here and not let her fix what needed fixing. Like the beak in Rime’s throat.

  He’d said there was nothing he could do, but she was fairly sure he was lying. She’d seen the beak crawl out of Urd. Not a pretty sight, and he couldn’t have survived. She supposed she’d find out soon enough. The thought made her hair stand on end. If Urd was still alive, he was in the world of the blind, too.

  “There are so many things I should have told you,” Graal said. “About us. About the people you’ll meet.”

  Hirka shrugged. “Nothing you can say will help prepare me.”

  She knew that now. She’d been frantic when she’d had to leave Ym. She’d wanted to know more about the humans, to understand where she was going. But the shock would have been just as great regardless of what she’d learned in advance.

  She was balanced between worlds. Between various forces and convictions. Everything was far too intertwined. Graal would fight for the blind to enter Ym, where the Might was. Rime would fight to make sure they never set foot there. But there was little he could do now that he was Graal’s slave.

  And what about her? What would she do?

  She’d promised Graal she would lead them to the Might. What she feared most was that she would want it too, in the end. Far too much damage had been done. Damage that couldn’t be healed.

  “Damayanti will meet you,” he said.

  “I know, I know. Underground in Ym, and then straight on to your world. I’ve traveled alone before.”

  He smiled. Then he jabbed one of his claws into his finger and dripped blood onto the raven. It started to move as if it were coming to life. Jerking. Convulsing. It was a sight she’d never forget.

  “Damayanti?” Graal enquired.

  “I’m in position now,” the raven said in a soft female voice. “Do you see anything?”

  Hirka stared between the stones. The grass leaned toward the opening as if the wind were tugging at it from the other side.

  “We see it,” Graal replied.

  Hirka looked at him. His sorrowful gaze was fixed on the stones. A black longing that made her feel sorry for him. She didn’t know whether she loved him or hated him. Her father. Her deadborn father. Who had created her to command an army. To bring about the destruction of Ym.

  But maybe it didn’t matter whether you loved or hated.

  The clouds rolled darkly behind him. A storm was coming. He caressed her cheek with a claw. “Good luck, blood of my blood.”

  She nodded and hugged her notebook to her chest. Memories from the human world. She would need it again. New things to learn. Things she would wish she’d never learned. The needle of the compass on the cover swung this way and that. As if there were no north or south anymore.

  Hirka looked down at her yellow boots. Then she looked up and walked between the stones.

  The space between worlds enveloped her.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, my most heartfelt thanks to everyone who made Odin’s Child a success by reading, recommending, reviewing, and sharing. Particularly to all my superfans who follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You’re out of your minds, and you know who you are. I see you, I promise. And thank you to Fabelprosaens Venner, who awarded Odin’s Child the Fabel Prize, and to everyone who nominated it for the Booksellers’ Prize, the Book Bloggers’ Prize, and the Ministry of Culture’s First Book Prize. I’m touched and deeply grateful.

  Living with someone who is always in two universes takes superhuman patience. Thank you so much for yours, dearest Kim. The same can be said to Mom, and to the rest of my family, friends, and colleagues. I promise to call you soon …

  No woman is an island. Thank you so much dear Tone Almhjell (The Twistrose Key) and Tonje Tornes (Nymph), my magnificent fellow authors and sounding boards at Write Away. Tonje said it best on Facebook when she said: “I never needed the heart emoticon until I met you.” <3 And of course, thank you to my other amazing writer friends at Fabelprosalauget.

  I’d have collapsed by page three without coffee. Thank you to the lovely ladies at Camillo Bastrup. Sorry for monopolizing the back table for over a year. And to Mean Bean, where I also spend a lot of time. Similarly, thank you to Supreme Roastworks,
Fuglen, and Java for my caffeine fixes in Oslo.

  The launch party for Odin’s Child was unforgettable! Thank you to every single person who attended, particularly those who helped me arrange it: Maja Selmer Medgård, my right hand for the evening; Frederik Kolderup and Jørgen Ljøstad at Non Dos; Jon Marius Sletten, the inked chef; Anders Braathen, the hipster chef; Ragni Hansen, who baked tail cake; and Halvor and Robin at Fuglen, who provided the setting.

  There is something very special about Gyldendal Norsk Forlag. Thank you so much to all you lovely, clever people. Particularly my wonderful editor Espen Dahl, and my former editor Marianne Koch Knudsen, who took The Rot with her into retirement. And an extra thank you to Eva C. Thesen, a real rock.

  Thank you to Anne Cathrine and Henrik at Gyldendal Agency, The Raven Rings’ outward face; to Pasi Loman, the agent who took the series to Brazil; to Maja Lindqvist, who took it to Sweden; to Erich Kruse Nielsen, an exceptionally dedicated narrator at Lydbokforlaget; and to translators Ina Steinman and Ylva Klempe.

  Then to the experts who have contributed to The Rot with their research. Thank you to:

  Alexander K. Lykke, linguistic consultant who developed the language of the blind

  Nils Chaboud, who knows about flying

  Rolv Bruun, who knows about churches and church bells

  Doctor Yngvar Hansen-Tangen, who knows how blood works

  Sidsel Yndestad, who knows about nursing

  Special thanks to Lise Myhre, the marvelous creator of Nemi, the character who proudly flies the flag for otherness. She also loves the Raven Rings.

  GLOSSARY

  CHARACTERS IN THIS WORLD

  Allegra Sanuto

  a wealthy woman

  Father Brody

  a priest who gives Hirka shelter