by Farah Cook
Farah Cook
City of Assassins
Copyright © 2018 by Farah Cook
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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Contents
About the Author
Dedicated to
I. THE VIKINGS
The Arrival
The Secret Meeting
Trapped
News
The Fest
The Battle
Keys To The Gate
II. ARRES - FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
FREDERICK
NORA
III. THE NEW WORLDS
The Return
Last Encounter
Home
The Nine Worlds
City of Assassins
About the Author
Farah Cook was born in Denmark and grew up in Copenhagen. She had a rich and highly imaginary childhood, spending most of her time outdoors. At the age of twelve, she began writing short stories to fuel her passion for storytelling.
Farah graduated with a BA in Social Science from Sweden, an MA in Arts from London, and an MA in Creative Writing from the University of Surrey. 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. Her novel City of Skies is the first book in the Viking Assassin Series.
Farah lives in Surrey, 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.
Farah is at the Faber Academy in London, writing her fourth novel, a Scandinavian psychological thriller under Johanna Briscoe.
Visit www.farahcook.com for more information.
I loved you; and perhaps I love you still,
The flame, perhaps, is not extinguished; yet
It burns so quietly within my soul,
No longer should you feel distressed by it.
Silently and hopelessly I loved you,
At times too jealous and at times too shy.
God grant you find another who will love you
As tenderly and truthfully as I.
By Alexander Pushkin
Dedicated to
Christopher: Because of you I am.
I
THE VIKINGS
1
The Arrival
THE PEACOCK BLUE sky hangs above me like sharp metal spears. A sister? The news is a murderous shadow slowly unfurling and crawling on my skin. I have a sister? My dad’s words linger inside my head for a while, and I forget I am in the City of Vikings. I forget that I have brought my enemy, Frederick, here with me. The enemy I am in love with. Still, it is not Frederick’s presence or even Mina’s that occupies my mind. It is hers–Grethe, my sister.
I swallow hard while I try to get used to the idea of being told what Grethe is to me. It is not what I expected, and for some reason, the whole incident makes me angry because I was betrayed. In my head, I have the courage to roar and scream. My rage feels like a flock of hungry lions ready to pounce on its prey. Among a thousand questions I pull out one. Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t stop there. Like a wheel of eternity, the question repeats itself over and over, and that’s when I realize that my dad built a whole new life here. He has his daughter. He does not need me. Perhaps he never did, and coming here has caused an outrage among his people who think that I’ve come to raid their city.
For all those years, I longed to meet this man. I dreamed of uniting the broken bond between us—the one that has brought me here defying death. Was it all done so I could meet the sister I never knew I had? My yearning all those years for fatherly love seems a waste when he may never have felt the yearning for the daughter he’d left behind.
I keep the crispness of my words sealed behind my lips. I have found him. I don’t want him to shut me out like he has everyone else. Why else would he have stayed in exile in the City of Vikings for all those years? My gaze shifts like a quiet desert wind trailing the Forbidden Areas. I peer at her, hiding my resentment. Grethe looks nothing like me. Her skin is butter yellow and glows beautifully. High cheekbones, peachy porcelain complexion, and her hair, a blend of hazelnut and warm honey. Small golden-brown eyes perfectly placed on Grethe’s face devour me, searching for answers. With a graceful posture, she appears ladylike with traces of arrogance. She is not my sister. How I hate everything about her, because I am nothing like her. A delicate, but deadly looking flower.
“Sister?” I whisper, clearing the hot clump of air that blocks my throat. “I never knew I had one.” I turn a wounded glance at my dad, but he offers me no consolation. Instead, he gazes back with stern emerald eyes. Eyes I feel I could get lost in, searching for all the answers he is keeping from me.
“Her mother passed away last fall just after Grethe’s thirteenth birthday. It was the will of the gods,” he says. My dad speaks softly, grief breaking into his deep voice.
What about Karen? I want to bellow. What about your estranged wife? But I keep silent. This is not the place to discuss the disability that pesters our family. I will have my time to corner him with questions. Until then, I try to make my surprise unknown. I avoid looking at any of the hundred murderous eyes gathered around us in the daunting assembly I find myself in.
“Earl Robert,” says Balder, captain of the Viking army. He was the man that brought us into the city. He steps forward, regarding me flatly like a toad. “What are we to do with the captives, my lord?” He tilts his head enough to include Frederick and Mina who seem as outraged as I do. He clears his throat. He is about to suggest something. But the Earl speaks.
“Bring the boy and the little girl to the Ashes,” he says. “Leave Nora with me.” A cold wind billows his white shawl, softly cloaked around his shoulders.
“But—” Balder’s voice trails away.
“They need to stay with Knud Forkbeard. Bring them away at once.”
Frederick’s pale blue eyes find me. He carries a noticeable worry in them. I wish he’d never come looking for me. I wish I’d never brought him here with me. This place is dangerous for him. He is not among his own clan members.
“Nora?” Frederick whispers. I gaze into his eyes. My name from his lips feels like a mysterious spell, enchanting and sweet. He stands tall, feet firmly rooted to the ground. He holds his breath.
Before I get to speak to him or to Mina, Balder saunters toward them. His big hands reach out, as if they were the claws of a wild animal. The strong, sturdy, metal of his helmet clinks, covering his head and hiding his severe face. The silver armor molds to his frame, emphasizing the hard muscles in his body. Frederick ducks. He avoids Balder’s grip and stands to face me. He glances at the door that leads out of the assembly, as if estimating the time it will take to escape.
“You better come with me,” Balder says and takes off his helmet, revealing every feature of his face from the saggy folds of skin under his eyes, to the square jaw and large pointed nose. A thic
k mop of golden hair flops against the lines in his forehead.
“Where are you taking them?” I keep my voice low.
“Nora,” says my dad. “They must join members of their own clan, in the Ashes.”
“The Ashes?” I say, lowering my brows. “What is there?” I try to hide the frantic emotions I carry. I bury them inside me like a rotting corpse. The place sounds like an execution ground. Are Frederick and Mina in danger because of me? Am I putting them at risk among their own clan to face punishment? They are not just my companions on this journey, they are my friends. I need them both to stay with me. How can I make them stay?
“Yes, it is Knud Forkbeard’s realm. He will give them shelter while they are here.”
The name still doesn’t ring a bell. I realize I still have much to learn about the world of the Vikings—a world built according to the old traditions and customs they created hundreds of years ago.
“Knud is a respected Viking Veran lord. He is a member of my council. Knud rarely makes an appearance on these grounds—”
“Why?” I say. “Is he not allowed here because he’s Veran?” My dad’s eyes narrow. He is silent for a moment. He twitches. Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead.
“It would be better if the companions you brought with you stayed with him.”
I blow out a noisy breath. I try not to challenge what he said. He could be siding with the Verans. I cannot get the words to leave my mouth. The blood underneath my skin sails across my limp body, and I press my lips together in a slight grimace. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn.
“But Mina is no Veran,” I say. “Why can’t she stay with me?” I lean forward to reach out for her hand. My eyes meet Frederick’s. He looks beautiful in the crisp morning light.
“She is a rare being from the Veran clan,” says Grethe. She tosses me a strange look. Her eyes are small and sallow and the irises golden amber. “Did you never care to notice? She has their clan tattoo on her collarbone.” Grethe motions at Mina. One of the guards pulls down her shirt revealing the familiar symbol of twirling shielded knots Frederick carries on his wrist in black ink.
Mina, a Veran? Why did she never mention anything? She hid her tattoo. Mina has always been short on words. I never did ask her personal questions, but why would a Veran support the Goths? Magnus must have known about her. Unless Mina is a spy? I refuse to believe it. She has been a friend to me all this time. Someone I trust.
Mina may be a Veran, but that doesn’t change her loyalty and devotion, which remain unquestionable. Frederick must have known about her. I believe he had his reasons for not telling me. Maybe he thought I knew. I don’t act surprised when Grethe stares at me.
“It’s the law, Nora,” says my dad. “Verans must stay in the Ashes, or else we’re taking a great risk.”
“Against what?” I say and jerk my head around. “My friends?”
He doesn’t answer. His breath falls heavy as if a stone was strapped to his chest. I can tell he senses a friction between us. I never imagined standing here speaking to him this way. I never imagined any of this. When I see five strong soldiers join Balder, I know they’ve come to take Frederick and Mina away.
Frederick cranes his neck. He wants to tell me something and looks at me, like death is a shadow in his company. But he doesn’t. Silently, without showing resistance, Frederick and Mina follow Balder out of the assembly. The iron gate scrapes open and the soldiers’ steps lay heavy imprints on the ground. Outside, the fury of the wind twists the branches and stirs the debris on the ground. Water drips from the pump, the force rod squeaks, and mold taints the stale air. Balder suddenly stops at the front gate with Frederick and Mina, as if he is waiting for an order before moving any farther.
The soft wind dances with my hair, playing hide and seek. The heaviness of the thick city walls covered in red dust remind me of the East, a place in the Triangle I vaguely remember. My senses explode, and I breathe in everything—the distinct scent of pine and wildflowers; the everlasting sound of creaking and groaning of tall swaying trees; the whining of bees; the pale sunless sky; and the fallen leaves bathing in muddy waters. I recall only fragments and the name of a faceless boy—someone I used to know in the East. Gustav. He used to be a friend of mine. Someone I once trusted.
The tattoo moves its branches across my back like the violent bashing of the sea. How can I forget that Yggdrasil is carved on my skin? Her black ink sprawls my body, tugging me toward the inevitable visions of the past. I shift my shoulders to ease the writhing pain she is causing me. Her time is near. She wants to break free. Join her roots to the Nine Worlds.
“Nora?” says my dad firmly as if he is acknowledging my presence. “Come closer.”
I pull out of my trance and let my eyes turn to him. I hold back my feelings from erupting like a volcano. He throws a veiled glance to the eyes prodding at us in the crowd. I take in my hostile and curious surroundings. The growing whispers and murmurs of people get louder. I notice glowing eyes flickering like burning candles in the dark. I taste their fear and hear their prying getting louder.
“She’s brought with her the Verans. Why would she do that? They cannot be trusted,” says one voice from the crowd. “They use the power of manipulation and dark spells. Do you think they will manipulate us? Two is enough to bring us all under their spell.”
“Soon there will be more. Wait and see; they will want to bring down our city. She is guilty of letting them in. The Earl’s daughter—a raider, an assassin. She must receive punishment. Will the Earl do it? Will he sentence his own daughter?” another voice says.
“He will not! One thing they are here for. You know of what I speak, don’t you?”
“The weapons! Yes, yes, they want them.”
“They all want them. Now they have tricked her into it. Fool of a girl. It will be the end of her.”
“But she must do it— she must make her way to the world of Arres, and into the assassin city. But only if the young Duchess lets her pass through the gate.”
“Don’t be stupid! No one passes through that gate.”
“She’d have to defeat her. Perhaps even kill her. Her own sister.” The voice sounds like rusty metal scrap. It cackles loudly.
My fear ensnares me as I listen to the whispers turning into murderous gossip. What do they mean? Have I been tricked? Is this all a game and am I some puppet playing along? The heartless whispers about Grethe. Yes, I can’t stand the sight of her. I may have made that obvious by ignoring her. Giving her a cold reception. But why would I want to kill her? I barely know the girl. What in the name of the gods is going to happen now that I’ve gotten myself into the City of Vikings?
My dad peers at me; hope flickers at the edge of his vision. He walks to the deck at the end of the hall. He stands next to the grand seat in the assembly. Grethe follows and takes a firm stand beside him. I force myself to stand a little closer to my dad. My eyes dart up and down Grethe’s petite figure. I crease my face as if I’ve bitten a lemon. The answers are coming. I snatch a deep breath of air, filling my lungs with the scent of wood smoke and fire, and breathe out a thick fume of anxiety.
The entire assembly eavesdrops eagerly. They are anticipating the purpose of the gathering. My stomach wrenches. All the words I want to shout I keep hostage behind my lips. I am afraid they’ll spill out wrongly. Controlled by anger, by emotions and rage.
When I peer at him I notice my dad’s gaze is somber. By the gods, I hope he is going to say something that releases the pain stabbing my chest. He opens his mouth. Soft-spoken words fill my ears like water fills a glass.
“May the great gods we worship grant to our city, and for the benefit of the Triangle in general, a great and glorious victory. May no felony in anyone tarnish it, and may the Vikings conquer and keep the land that belongs to them. For I, Earl Robert of this great City of Vikings, commit my life to the gods. May the strength the gods bestowed upon me lead me to defend these walls. In the gods, I lay my trust and obligation to
the cause which was entrusted to me to defend.” After he finishes his prayer he sits down. The grand chair makes a creaking sound. The long fibers of the white sheepskin look soft and lush. They unleash a heavy scent of blood. A scent of death.
A stammering voice from the crowd emerges. “Earl Robert, what m-matter do th-the foreigners have in our city?” Before my dad gets to answer, another voice raises concern.
“My lord, are they sent by the gods to punish us?”
“Punish us?” says the Earl angrily. “For what, my dear Ulrik?”
“Our s-ssins.” The first voice stammers again. “For being the in- insurgent.”
“There are no sinners or sins among the gods. We are warriors, Vikings, not labeled by any clan,” he says. “Our battle is not against the outside world. This city was built to protect us from intruders, and anyone able to pass through the old wizard’s spells to get here deserves a damned good reception, don’t you agree? We should host a feast tonight to celebrate our own strength before the gods.” He laughs a little. It feels strange to see my dad happy. I’d like him to stay this way. It takes away the sorrow, the anxiety, and the fear gripping my bones.
“The young girl,” says Ulrik, taking a long breath. “Is she the daughter you left behind, my lord? The daughter who carries the curse to kill.” Eyes in the crowd stare at me, maybe searching my face for evidence that I am the Earl’s daughter.
“Nora is my daughter.” says the Earl. “She has travelled far, crossing the Forbidden Areas to see me about matters that concern none of you. I shall resolve matters with her and you shall remain without worries.”
Ulrik persists. “But I worry deeply my lord. She has endangered the city by bringing in the Verans. Soon, she will bring danger to all of us; soon, there will be more. And, soon they’ll want to look for the weapons. We must execute them all before more danger enters our city.”