by Farah Cook
Farah Cook
City of Vikings
First published by Lindhart Publishing Ltd. in 2017
Copyright © Farah Cook, 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
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Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs,
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes,
Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Romeo and Juliet
Dedicated to
Benjamin, Noah and Chris. Without your support and enthusiasm my writing is nothing, except words on paper. I am a storyteller, I tell stories every day when I sit in front of the computer and write. I’m an inventor, I invent things on the go constantly. No, I am not a magician, but I hope what I’ve created brings a little bit of magic into the lives of others.
Foreword
Never did I think I would write, and what started as an idea inside my head became a new world. This is the world of Nora Hunt, and she’s brave, courageous and strong. She’s everything and more a heroine should be and her journey is just getting started. The idea of Nora Hunt didn’t just come to me, it evolved – from my own experiences of growing up in Denmark, a small country with great people.
Nora’s world is small, and I wanted to create characters that are great and meaningful. Frederick, Helena and Magnus are characters we can relate to and fall in love with, because they drive the story forward. Trust, betrayal, friendship and love – Nora faces many challenges in her world, and I hope that the long endless days and nights filled with blissful joy of writing and inventing this story will be meaningful to you. I hope you’ll love Nora the way I do, for as long as you do – she will be there to invite you into her world. So, welcome! Welcome to the world of the Vikings.
About the author
Farah Cook was born in Denmark, in the land of the Vikings. She grew up in Copenhagen, and had a rich and highly imaginary childhood spending most of her time outdoors. At the age of twelve, she began writing several short stories to fuel her passion for storytelling. Farah graduated with a BA in Social Science from Lund University in Sweden and MA in Arts from London Metropolitan University. She has lived in many countries, including Germany and New Zealand, but settled in London where she worked as a marketing manager for large financial conglomerates. Her passion for storytelling remained, and at night she started to write all the things she’d imagine, and her novel City of Skies is the first book in the Viking Assassin Series. Farah lives in Guildford, just outside London, with her husband Christopher, and their two sons Benjamin and Noah. She speaks six languages fluently including Danish, Swedish and German, and writes full time while doing her MA in Creative Writing at Surrey University.
About City of Vikings
THE FATE OF THE GOTH EMPIRE RELIES ON ONE GIRL
When Nora discovers she hails from a secret Viking assassin clan she has no choice but to serve the Goth Empire from the oppression of the Sovereign Republic. As the Empire’s deadliest assassin, Nora's mission is to uncover the ancient Viking weapons before her enemy in blood and in dynasty, Frederick Dahl. But her mission puts her love for Frederick at risk and she’s in danger from the Republic who wants to rule the nine Viking worlds and eliminate the Empire for good. Soon Nora finds herself torn between duty, honor and love – and must decide if she’s willing to risk her heart or the fate of the Empire…
1
THE SOUND OF waves crash in my ears, and when I open my eyes, I see his face against a tranquil backdrop where the red sun sets into a deadly black ocean. Terrifying and beautiful at the same time, the shades of dark fold into a cold wind dancing with the daring ocean crest. His azure eyes are still, questioning my being here with him.
“What are we doing, Nora?” he whispers, and the smoke from his icy breath thickens. “What are we doing here?” As I reach out my fingers to touch his face, his soft voice and hard eyes smolder away gradually dissolving every inch of his body. The wind carries his ashes to the ocean where they blend with the waves. The fury of the deep sea sends back a black dragon with ice-blue eyes – and it is him behind the rage.
“Frederick?” The alarm on my chip goes off, and I slam my hand onto my wrist to keep it quiet. The dream of Frederick is still vividly imprinted in my mind, flickering through other memories I keep hidden.
I gather my body from the cold wooden floor in Karen’s house and walk into the kitchen. Everything in this house is unfamiliar to me – a house I should have grown up in calling Karen mom. Instead I grew up in the East not knowing of her or her existence. I’ve transitioned into a new life in the West and I’m afraid of what it all means being here when I should have been at the towers getting ready for my official awakening ceremony to become an Elite Raider.
On the counter is a plate of food. The housekeeper must have cooked while I passed out. But I’m not hungry. My desperate attempt to hide any emotions only leads me back to where I was – in a black vacuum – and his face is the only thing I see, for I am a fool to be in love with Frederick Dahl.
It’s been hours since the armed men barged into the house and took Karen, and I worry if I’ll ever see her again. I wander down the long corridor of the house, walking past paintings of glorious-looking warriors. So, is this my legacy? I belong to the Goth Viking clan. I turn my head to examine more closely one of the paintings of a powerful warrior. His face is filled with rage and fury. When I glance at the same painting again, there’s no doubt who he is – a Viking with a killer instinct.
The sword in the hands of the warrior rests on the ground between his legs. The lobe of the sharp sword is richly embossed with swirling knots throughout the pommel. I run my fingers over it, touching the magnificent sword, a glorifying weapon, with one single ambition. To kill. I feel as if it is calling for me.
The housekeeper, Solvej, startles me and I take my hand off the painting.
“Earl Gorm the great was one of the first Viking assassins in your family. She keeps the sword in one of the sacred rooms upstairs. It has been in your family for five hundred years,” she says.
The muscles in her plain face don’t move when my eyes meet hers. Stone hard and gray with rigid lines around her mouth, Solvej is not a woman who carries a joyous spirit. Her broad shoulders and firm posture give her a masculine edge – and her neat-looking red hair tightly tucked behind her ears adds a reverent seriousness to her quiet attitude.
“I wasn’t…”
“Come with me,” she orders. I don’t even know Solvej, but she seems to know about me and my family. She carries secrets in her eyes.
No questions asked, I follow Solvej up the wide marble staircase, which leads into a dark foyer. There are countless doors and she takes out a bunch of keys. They are old, rusty and twisted. Keys in different shapes and forms. One key clutched into her palm differs from the others. The top silver imprint on the key is of two men slaying one another. Their top half is human, attached to the body of a horse – creatures known as centaurs, which roam the Forbidden Areas.
Solvej slots that key into the keyhole and pushes the door open. The dust settles like snowflakes in the dark room. Her hand moves along the wall and she flicks a switch. A dim light appears from the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. It’s a damp room, with high walls and purple drapes covering r
ed bricks.
There is not a single window. Several ancient-looking weapons are pinned against the walls. Spears, bows and arrows, axes, blades, knives and hammers. In the middle of the room there’s a large ancient-looking tapestry hanging over a sealed fireplace – men rowing a long slender boat, with a circular object in each end. Could be dragonheads – similar to what I just dreamed of.
I notice a large boulder that holds the metal sword from the painting. The sword is buried inside the rock, with patches of dry blood around it. I look at Solvej who beckons me to approach the sword. Her hand is stiff like an arrow.
“This belongs to you now,” she says. She walks to the other end of the room and presses the bare red brick wall with the palm of her hand.
The wall moves to the side to reveal a courtyard. It is early evening, and I must have been asleep for a while when I passed out in Karen’s house.
“You can practice here with the sword that belonged to your ancestors,” says Solvej stiffly. “It’s a highly desired and sought-after ancient Viking assassin weapon.”
“Practice?” I say raising my eyebrows. “Practice for what?”
“What you’re meant to master,” she says flatly.
Why does Solvej think I need to practice with an assassin’s sword? It’s clear what Solvej wants to tell me, but I find it all hard to believe. The house, the sword – and in the back of my mind I worry for Karen’s safety. Why has she not yet returned and did she plan for all of this to happen?
“I’m not meant to master anything except—”
Solvej cuts through my words: “You were chosen by the Norse gods to carry the map of the world tree Yggdrasil on your back.”
“Chosen?” I utter a brief laugh. “I don’t believe you, and I don’t believe I was chosen for anything just because I have some tree tattooed on my back.” I watch Solvej intently as she walks toward me silently.
“I don’t know what your mother may have told you—”
“She told me only what I wanted to hear,” I say, monitoring Solvej’s movements. Her face quivers with indignation. “All I know—”
Something is burning on the tip of her tongue. She bites it and hisses at me.
“You know nothing,” shouts Solvej so the room echoes. “If you knew the sacrifices our Viking clan has made. We carry the legacy of Odin the Wise. He risked his life to seek wisdom from Mimir. He wandered far, crossing the land of the giants – a land that rose after the fall of the late world. He wore only his cloak. A meaningful symbol that raiders wear to take pride in the ancient ways of life. For that is Odin’s cloak.”
“What sacrifices?” I dare question her.
“Yggdrasil the world tree. She carries the nine worlds in her branches, which shall be ruled by the Goth Empire,” Solvej says firmly. “Odin climbed to the top of that tree and clung to a branch for nine days while evil lurking shadows haunted him. His sacrifice is our gift.”
As she speaks I imagine the danger Odin was in while clinging to the branch of the world tree. Yggdrasil is an ancient tree that holds the nine worlds of the Vikings in its branches. A map of the tree was tattooed on my back and has been there for as long as I can remember. I never questioned why it was there. Maybe I’ll never know. After all, what purpose can it have when I cannot read it?
“How does the tattoo on my back have anything to do with a sword?” I say.
“Everything,” she says. “The world tree Yggdrasil has traveled through time and space. Yggdrasil always was, and is and will be. The Norse gods entrusted you with the map that locates the nine worlds. You have a special duty you must take on.”
I shut down my senses, while getting a feel for the information Solvej has dumped on me. Yggdrasil has been speaking to me, but I don’t understand what she says. Her whispers are from a dark age – mysterious spells and warnings. None of which tells me anything.
Marked on my back she moves and grows as her branches stretch across my body. I feel the scratching and sometimes I see the things she shows me. The tattoo feels heavier and the visions weaker. Sometimes she shows me glimpses of terrible things and sometimes of beautiful things. The nine worlds she shows me are different and have elves, fairies, trolls, dwarfs and other mystical creatures living in them. The worlds that were, and the worlds that will become.
Suddenly the word duty strikes me.
“Before she was taken away Karen told me that I must do my duty as a Viking warrior,” I say. “What did she mean to tell me?”
I sense Solvej’s withdrawn mood. Just like Karen she’s keeping something from me. My eyes meet hers – round and bleary. The smoke in her gray irises settles.
“The one thing Karen was too afraid to mention is the secret your family has been carrying for hundreds of years.”
“What secret?” I demand. Solvej twitches and looks me straight in the eyes.
“Your ancestors were part of a secret Viking society and served to protect the five-hundred-year-old Goth Empire. They forged four magical weapons to help them battle against their enemies. It was the only way to conquer them. By the Norse gods, they were invincible.”
“Who were they?” I ask. Solvej hesitates for a while and I know what she’s about to say next, but I want to hear her say it out loud. “Solvej?”
“Viking assassins,” she says, feeling weightless. “Karen failed to tell you that your duty is to serve and protect the Empire.”
“How am I going to do that?” I say and put my hands on my hips.
“Don’t play games with me little girl. I’ve seen more of the world than you can possibly imagine,” says Solvej. “You are the last in the line of the assassins and you have to honor the duty to your clan and to the Empire.”
I sigh heavily and try not to stumble and fall backwards as I move further away from Solvej. Has she gone mad? I make my surprise known to her.
“Don’t you see, Nora – once you have the four magical weapons of the Viking assassins you’ll be unstoppable. Killing runs in your veins.”
“Killing people is nothing new for Vikings. Yes, barbarian slaughtering runs through their thick veins,” I say, my mood darkening. “I’m not sure if I’m cut out to become what my ancestors were. Killers.”
“Viking assassins,” she says firmly, “killed for justice and to protect and preserve the values of the Goth Empire – a duty you must take on now.”
“The Empire is broken and has been for a long time. Whatever hope you hold on to has nothing to do with me,” I say. “Besides what can possibly harm the Empire?”
“Their enemies,” says Solvej. “Nora, you were chosen by the gods because you are the last Viking assassin. It is your duty to defeat our enemies before they get their hands on the map tattooed on your back, which could lead them to the nine worlds.”
Solvej reaches for my back, but I turn away from her. I do not want her to see the tattoo. I am afraid of what she will think if she does. Her words begin to feel heavy like stones. The tattoo, the nine worlds and my duty as Viking assassin – to serve and protect the once glorious but now broken Goth Empire. If I am ever to fulfill my role, it will be on my own terms, and not because the housekeeper tells me.
“But I was recruited to be an Elite Raider, missioned to find the ancient Viking artifacts in the Forbidden Areas,” I say.
Solvej laughs hard like I’ve said something funny. I’ve stated the truth that defines my duties in the West. I was brought over from the East to train at Dock Harbor – six weeks’ training that allows me to raid the Forbidden Areas. I will be living in the Tower of Swords, with the competing dynasty, Rognvald – which is led by Frederick Dahl. The boy I’m in love with and who happens to be my worst enemy – a Veran.
The old Viking clan battles have nothing to do with me and compromise my freedom, which means more to me than any of this. Why should I care about what Solvej is telling me anyway when the truth was concealed from me? I was deceived and lied to by the woman who tells me she’s my mom – Karen.
“
Do not laugh Solvej,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s not funny.”
She gives me a serious glare. I know why she was laughing.
“The Sovereign Republic stand to awaken Yggdrasil,” she says. “All they need is the map that you are fortunate enough to carry.”
“But that would give them—”
“Sole control of the nine worlds,” says Solvej.
Solvej’s words sting me. I know she’s telling the truth. All my life I was kept hidden in the East concealing the map of the world tree Yggdrasil. A map I cannot see or touch. A map that speaks to me and shows me things. A map I feel now more than ever moving across my back.
“You must find the weapons,” says Solvej.
“There has to be another way?” I say.
“The West is ruled by the Republic, an old and powerful Viking clan known as the Verans, and the eternal enemy of the Goths. They support only their own kind, the dark raiders of Rognvald, and any defiance against them is met with death. The only reason Goths have survived is because we are no threat to the Verans. We have no army or weapons. What little power we have in the senate allows us to support Jarl Raiders who are bound to serve the Empire. But the Empire is weak.”
“And passive.” I say and wrinkle my nose.
“Members of the Republic forced the Empire to succumb.”
“What members?”
“The seven Lumini Lords. The reason you were sent to the East was to keep you safe from them. They’d have no trouble skinning you alive to get the map.”
“What about the artifacts raiders are missioned to find?” I say.
“The Republic already have the ancient Viking artifacts in their possession.” Solvej expels a deep long breath. “The Republic will use them to awaken the tree.”
My blood runs cold.
“Are you sure they have the artifacts?” I ask, furrowing an eyebrow. I’m reminded of the golden horn in Eldor that Frederick and I discovered on our mission to the Forbidden Areas. The horn must to be one of the artifacts the Republic has been looking for.