Nod nodded. “Fresh air is always good. Black Castle is a safe city, but at night you should be careful anyway. Sometimes shady figures roam the streets.”
“I have nothing that would be worth stealing.”
“What about your virginity?”
“Hmm,” muttered Arvid. She had not been a virgin for a long time, but of course she knew what Nod was trying to say. “I never thought about that. I was very angry. And desperate.”
“Why?”
Arvid hesitated, but then she told Nod of the letter from Asgard and what had happened to her after her arrival. Nod listened in silence until Arvid had finished.
“You’re right,” she said, “the gods don’t know you and probably don’t care about your personal wishes and feelings. They live far from here, in a city made of palaces. Even if some of them try, they can’t worry about the fate of every single person.”
“I know,” Arvid said bitterly. “But it’s their fault that I’m here. How can’t they care? Surely I’m not the only one… how can the gods sleep soundly if they know that people keep falling through these… these transitions? Sure, you say they’ll help me but… in reality they are just trying to abide by a law that they once wrote themselves.”
“Probably,” said Nod. Her armor creaked softly as she poured more tea. “I think it’s just too long ago. The world transitions have existed for centuries. One can probably not feel sincere sympathy for everyone falling prey to them for centuries.”
“I just don’t know what to do now,” Arvid said. “I don’t want to live on this farm.”
“Write to Asgard,” suggested Nod.
Arvid laughed bitterly. “Waste of time.”
“Who knows? Sometimes it’s enough to draw some attention. Although it would be easier, of course, if you had a special talent. Young people with highly developed magical abilities often receive special support from the gods.”
“Unfortunately that’s nothing I have to offer.”
Nod smiled encouragingly. “But your language skills are impressive. How did you learn Jördish so quickly?”
“It just happened.”
Nod laughed. “I wish that would happen to me,” she said. “I’m studying languages at Vero-Maghen, you know? Unfortunately, I have to take the hard way.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“Four. And I’m learning two more.”
“Isn’t that a bit unusual?” said Arvid. “You’re in the City Guard.”
“That’s true, but… well, I’m not happy here.” She took a sip of tea before she spoke. “It was my father’s idea. He wanted me to become a soldier and… Well, I thought I could make him proud. But already my first operation has demoralized me. I don’t like talking about it, but… committing atrocities on behalf of some gods? It was unbearable.” Nod stared into the flames in front of them. “Back then… I was very angry with the gods.”
“Naturally,” said Arvid. “All the time I hear how good and noble they are, but so far I’ve never heard anything good or noble about them.”
“They are not infallible, but not all are the same,” said Nod. “They helped me to come to the City Guard. It is an improvement, but I don’t want to stay here. That’s why I’m learning new languages … Even though I often feel at the end of my tether after a long day.”
“I admire you,” Arvid said. “Before I got here… Well, I have never dared to do what I really wanted. Because of the money. Isn’t it expensive to study at Vero-Maghen?”
Nod hesitated. “Yes,” she said, “very few can afford to study there. But I’m only there twice a week.”
“Do you earn so much in the City Guard?”
“Well… no. But my father, he… had an old friend. He is… somewhat influential. He has money, you know?”
“So he pays your school fees?” said Arvid. “Just like that?”
“No.” Nod seemed suddenly nervous. “He… is a busy man and… I help where I can…”
Arvid looked at her blankly. Nod was obviously uncomfortable with the subject, so she decided not to ask about it anymore, and instead said, “I wish I could visit Vero-Maghen. Perhaps I would find out more about the world transitions there.”
For a while they sat in silence, staring into the fire.
“You’re right,” Nod said finally, “you could easily learn about the world transitions and their history there. You could write to Asgard and ask for support for it.”
Arvid sighed. “Thank you for your advice, Nod,” she said. “But why should they help me? I can’t even read properly.”
Once again they became silent. The flames crackled softly, and somewhere in the distance a low howl could be heard, though it did not seem to trouble Nod. She took a big gulp of tea, then put the clay cup beside her on the bench, and turned back to Arvid.
“I know someone in Vero-Maghen that might be able to help you. When do you have to leave for the farm?”
“On the third day of the first week of… some month.”
“That must be the Month of the Gray Cold. That’s the day after tomorrow. Not a lot of time.” Nod reached under her cloak and pulled out a small wooden clock. “I will soon be replaced. I should probably wake Kjeld,” she said. “But don’t worry, I’ll talk to Aeldjarn and then come to Falla’s house.”
“Aeldjarn?”
“Son of Enaldir; he is a master at Vero-Maghen,” said Nod. “He has some influence and is more familiar with the rules and laws. Maybe he knows what you can do.”
Although Arvid knew that this was just a chance and did not mean that this man or Nod could really help her, she felt a spark of hope. “Would you really do that for me?”
Nod put her gloved hand on Arvid’s and squeezed gently. “I know what it’s like to suddenly be all alone.”
The Month of the Gray Cold
Master Aeldjarn had agreed to meet Arvid and Nod in an inn at lunchtime, where he awaited them sitting behind a mug of beer. He was older, white-haired and dressed in a black cloak with a hood. His eyes were of an exceptional light blue, so vibrant that Arvid felt uncomfortable from the first moment.
After Nod had introduced them, the old master asked Arvid to describe the situation to him in detail. She did her best, but in the end her report became significantly longer than she had originally intended. When she finally ended, her mouth felt dry and sticky from all the talking. She took a long sip of her beer, which had stood untouched for a while, and watched Aeldjarn, who cumbersomely stripped off his robe.
“So you think you’ll be able to find a way back into the Light World,” he said with undisguised scorn, as he folded the garment and tossed it onto the bench beside him. His voice was low and scratchy and his gaze had not gotten more pleasant in the course of the conversation. “Why, I wonder.”
“I got here somehow,” Arvid said, trying to suppress her anger over Aeldjarn’s tone, “and I simply can’t imagine that there’s no way in the other direction.”
“You sure don’t lack conviction,” said Aeldjarn with a raised eyebrow. “But just because you can’t imagine something doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“I know that the gods have previously traveled in the Light World,” Arvid said. “That’s why they created the transitions in the first place. They wanted them to lead in both directions.”
“But it would be naive and stupid to think nothing can change about that,” said Aeldjarn. “The worlds have moved away from each other over the centuries. The interfaces have become unpredictable. Hardly anyone dares to approach the occurring transitions today.”
“Hardly anyone?”
An amused smile played Aeldjarn’s mouth. “I see you cling to every straw,” he said mockingly. “There are exceptions. Previously, the world transitions were studied intensively, but today there a
re only a handful of scholars who still do so.”
“And a few gods,” Nod interjected.
“Two, to be precise,” Aeldjarn said with a glance in her direction. “Still, the question remains, why do you think you’d be more successful in your efforts? That seems plenty arrogant to me.”
“I don’t know,” Arvid said. She sounded irritated, but it was actually helplessness she felt. “Maybe I would see things from a different perspective. Maybe I could discover something that has simply been overlooked.”
“That would be quite possible,” Nod said, looking at Arvid encouragingly. “As far as I know, no new insights have been gained for decades.”
Master Aeldjarn furrowed his brow. “Do you really think our scholars and gods are so incompetent that something has remained hidden from them for centuries, simply because they have overlooked it?”
Arvid remained silent. She didn’t know what to say to that. It didn’t seem to her as if Aeldjarn really wanted to help her, and the realization was disheartening.
“I just want to get a chance,” she said. “If there are people out there who watch and study these transitions, at least I want to be able to help.” She sighed deeply. “But it seems to me you just came here to talk me out of it.”
“I don’t want to talk you out of anything. For that, I would not have taken the trouble to come here.”
Arvid looked up in surprise. “Then… You want to help me?”
Aeldjarn took a sip from his mug before he answered. “I’ll be frank with you,” he said, looking at her fixedly. “I don’t believe that you will find a way. But we are always interested in students with generous patrons. If you want to cling to this hope and waste your time, I won’t try to change your mind…”
“So it’s all about money,” Arvid noted bitterly.
“For you it’s about a lot more, isn’t it?” Aeldjarn said coolly. “What difference does it make?”
“It just doesn’t help me at all. Who would want to pay for my school fees? I have nothing to offer a patron.”
“Oh, believe me, the world is full of people who want to ingratiate themselves with the gods,” said Aeldjarn with a grin. “Asgard only needs to make a recommendation for you—the rest comes all by itself.”
Arvid looked at him doubtfully. “And why should Asgard do that?”
“Because you’ll take advantage of your special position and ask them to,” Aeldjarn replied. A sly look came into his eyes. “There are rules and laws, even in Asgard. You have the right to ask for a hearing in response to Noldir’s decision.” He turned to Nod. “You have the paper?”
“Of course,” she said hastily and rummaged in her bag. She found paper, ink and a quill and pushed it across the table to Aeldjarn. However, he just made a waving movement with his hand.
“You’ll do the writing, Nod.”
“A hearing… You mean I should… talk to the gods?” said Arvid.
“Only with Noldir. Apparently, he was declared responsible for the matter. I would be very surprised if other gods would be bothered with this ridiculous story.”
“And what should I tell him? They won’t help me just because I ask them to!”
“You will have a few weeks to think about it. Because until the answer from Asgard arrives, you will have no choice but to go to the farm where you were assigned. But in all honesty… I think they will indeed help you just because you ask them to.”
“Why?”
“The gods are keen to preserve their reputation. This recommendation is a trifle, a free opportunity to demonstrate their generosity. It would be very surprising if they didn’t use this opportunity.”
Arvid was still skeptical, but she had no other choice than to rely on the old master. What other options did she have?
Aeldjarn spent the next hour dictating a text for the letter to Asgard to Nod, but he corrected himself repeatedly, or bade Nod cross out several sentences again. Arvid did not understand everything, because Aeldjarn, too, made use of such formal, cumbersome formulations that she could only guess their meaning. The main message of the letter was clear and unequivocal, though: It demanded that Arvid be granted a direct conversation with the gods, in which she had the opportunity to tell her version of the situation and ask for assistance.
As Nod took a fresh sheet and began to write down the final text, Aeldjarn gave Arvid a black case containing a pen, paper and a glass bottle with a light shimmering liquid. He explained to her that these things would be used to create rune spells.
“The ink is very expensive and contains dust from clear soul gems, so use it sparingly,” said Aeldjarn. He unfolded a piece of paper with some complicated-looking runes in ink. “This is the easiest rune spell there is. If you have the gift, it cannot fail. Write the runes on a piece of paper and then put your hand on it. If it works, you will know right away.”
Aeldjarn also explained the simplest exercises to test black and white magic. She should try to move a light object and generate tiny sparks of light. He advised Arvid to try it every day in order to discover a possible magical gift immediately, since this would mean a great advantage in finding a patron.
“Never concentrate on a spot in the middle of the air,” he advised. “Choose a fixed point you can clearly see and grasp with your mind. To some it helps to touch it or point at it, but be careful with white magic… if you can’t control it yet, energy often dissipates as heat. You could hurt yourself.”
As Nod had finished writing the letter, Arvid signed it. She had to copy the runes of her name from a piece of paper. The delivery of the message, she would leave to master Aeldjarn. For the time being, Arvid had to resign herself to spending the next few weeks on a farm.
The next day Arvid was picked up by Gjell and a man named Jan to accompany her to Horalf’s farm. They left Black Castle shortly before noon and traveled south with three horses of the City Guard. Arvid was relieved that she had learned to ride at an early age. As they left the city’s circle of protection, Arvid was painfully reminded that crossing them was anything but pleasant.
Gjell seemed to be in a good mood and rather talkative, but he only chatted with Jan. Arvid could have tried to take part in their conversation, but it actually suited her well that the two men ignored her. She was still struggling with the pain of parting from Thoke and Falla, the only two people she had gotten some support from in the past few weeks.
Before them lay bleak hills as far as the eye could see, as the green of the grass had begun to disappear. Black, brown and yellow were the predominant colors. Occasionally she could see lightning bugs floating around, but they were not as numerous as on the field Thoke had shown her.
After a few hours they reached the edge of a pitch-black pine forest, which had appeared behind a hill like a dark fog. The wind rustled loudly in the branches, and thick clouds had appeared overhead. The environment seemed to grow darker and darker.
Suddenly Arvid’s horse raised its head nervously. She looked around, then suddenly she felt the ground starting to shake beneath them. A low rumble and grinding filled the air, and from the nearby forest she heard cracking and creaking noises. The horses snorted in fear, and even up in the saddle Arvid could feel how strong the movement beneath them was. The feeling was scary.
“Easy!” Arvid shouted to her horse, looking around while her heart pounded. She leaned forward, put her arm around the warm neck of the animal and hoped that it would have a calming effect.
“An earthquake,” Gjell called unnecessarily. He, too, sounded extremely tense. The ground was still trembling, even if the intensity had now abated.
“By the gods, I have never experienced such a strong quake!” Jan said. His horse pranced nervously on the spot too, though he did not pay it any attention, but looked around at the surrounding landscape.
“Damn!” Gjell tu
rned around in the saddle and looked in the direction they had come from. “We’ll have to hurry.”
Arvid could imagine in what direction his thoughts wandered. How had the city survived the quake? Were the buildings strong enough? Arvid thought about Thoke and Falla and hoped that nothing had happened to them.
The trembling of the ground soon ebbed entirely, but Arvid’s breathing only calmed down slowly. It was oppressive when the earth, something one thought to be adamant, solid, and safe, gave under all of a sudden.
“Are there many earthquakes?” she asked when they finally rode on, now at significantly higher speeds.
“Every few years,” said Gjell, “but not such strong ones.”
“Do you think that the houses in the city are safe?”
“What do I know? They’re only houses. It is the circle of protection I’m worried about.”
In the early evening the farm came into view, half-hidden behind a stripe of forest. Arvid was surprised. She had expected to find a larger property out here, but this was only a very average house with a barn, a shabby annex and a tiny stable. As they approached on the narrow road, the matte, smoldering line of a circle of protection came into view.
Crossing the circle was unpleasant, but not painful this time. As they rode into the yard, she saw that the earthquake had left its mark on the buildings. One side of the stable had completely collapsed. A group of small, woolly pigs huddled together in a makeshift enclosure on the opposite wall. Three men were standing outside, and turned to look at them when they heard the clatter of hooves.
“Greetings, gentlemen,” exclaimed Gjell. He rode a little farther, then stopped and swung out of the saddle. Jan and Arvid did the same.
“Greetings,” said one of the men, who shortly after introduced himself as Horalf, owner of the farm. He was a stocky man with red hair and a face just as red, no longer young and of robust physique. His feet were in muddy boots, and just like everyone, he wore a thick fur cloak. While he and Gjell were talking about the earthquake, Arvid cautiously looked around.
Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) Page 7