City of Assassins

by Farah Cook

  A feeling of despair washes over me. I remember most of what I had forgotten, except the vision Yggdrasil gave me. The gate to the Nine Worlds, I don’t know where to find it. I remember that I once knew the location. There has to be a way to recover from the lost memory. But what if I am unable to? How will I convince the Goths that the vision she gave me is unfamiliar. They’ll never believe me. The runes stinging my hand will be of no use. The snow will continue to fall, and the city will be buried in cold and ice. Yggdrasil will wither and her branches drop the worlds she’s been carrying into darkness.

  The car stops at a pointed edge overlooking the harbor. Andreas steps out and opens the other side of the door. Slowly I pull myself out into the cold air and look at the white sky turning bleak. Among the falling snowflakes black shadows hang above the city. Stretched like burning thunder across the sky are the branches of Yggdrasil and in them she carries our precious worlds.

  “I don’t believe it,” I say and throw my hands over my mouth. Through squinted eyes the view becomes clearer. I let my hands fall to the side. “She’s causing chaos, the snow—”

  “It is getting worse,” says Andreas. “If it continues, we’re going to die.”

  “Die?”

  “What are you going to do?” He expects an answer, as if I am holding the key to all this. I am, but how does he know? Andreas is from a wealthy family, and I am not surprised he can buy any information he wants. He must have spoken to Hildebrand. I rush back into the car, my hands are shaking. I look at the chip. The signal is still weak, and the message I tried sending to Frederick didn’t go through. Andreas gets in on the other side.

  “Are you okay?” he says. “What’s wrong?”

  “Andreas, I need you to get in touch with Frederick and tell him to come to Lady Hunt’s house.” He looks at me for a while analyzing my obvious panic.

  “Sure, I’ll do it straight away.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Be careful what you tell him. Do not mention meeting me. I don’t want him followed.”

  “Would you like Karl to drive you to Chelsea now or?”

  “Now,” I say. “Do you know a safe way to get in touch with Frederick?”

  “I guess I could contact Tommy.”

  “What are you going to tell him?”

  “That Frederick is invited to a reception in Chelsea,” says Andreas. “Chelsea is famous for hosting all kind of high society diplomatic events. If he’s smart enough, which I believe he is—”

  “You’ve made your point,” I say relieved. “Let’s hope all goes according to plan.”

  Karl turns the car and drives in the direction of Chelsea. When it pulls into the main square the atmosphere is dark, silent. There are no guards on duty, and the black iron gate that protects the old red brick houses is wide open. When the car stops, I step out and look around. The place is deserted, a ghost town.

  “Are you sure I should leave you here?” Andreas steps out. “It looks rather spooky.”

  “I’m sure,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “If you need me or anything else—”

  “There is one more thing, Andreas. The motorcycle—”

  “Considered it delivered this evening. Someone will somehow bring it.”

  “I owe you.” I say.

  “You saved my life that day in the mountains, Nora. I am the one who is forever in debt to you.”

  “I did what was right, Andreas,” I say. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

  “I know,” he says and stares right into my eyes. I place a soft kiss on his cheek and watch him step back into the car. “You know how to reach me, Nora.” I nod and make my way toward Karen’s house. The cobblestones are icy, white. My black attire shines in the bright evening light. When I turn, Andreas is already gone.

  I grab the door handle and step into the house. Everything looks exactly the way I remember it. The red rug, the dark wooden furniture. Except the walls in the hallway are empty. The large oil paintings are missing. The marks from the frames dust the vacant walls. I place my hand where Harald’s painting used to hang. His face is vividly printed in my mind. His vicious face. The rot from his head makes me want to throw up.

  A deep juddering intake of breath reach my ears, and I turn around.

  “Home so soon?” says Solvej. Her face is stern, and looking straight at me. There’s a faint humming in my ears, like an ocean breeze shrieking through a dark storm.

  “Home?” I glare at Solvej and something doesn’t feel right. Her eyes are stone cold. Empty. “It has been a year.”

  “Yes, it has.” she stands firmly rooted to the ground. Her shoulders are wide and her face is stiffer than before. “She’s expecting you.” Solvej’s severe face lights up a little, and she takes my hands into hers. The runes hidden in my palm warm my hand. Solvej doesn’t seem to notice anything, and even if she did I wouldn’t know what to say. I can’t trust her. The way she looks at me, something is off. But I play along and hope she doesn’t notice my suspicion.

  “Karen—”

  “Is waiting for you. She has been expecting your return,” says Solvej as if she has been sedated by a spell. “Come this way.” She pulls me along eagerly and walks up the stairs. I look around as we cross a corridor on the way up. I notice a sharp object, an animal tusk from a wild boar perhaps, decorating the wall. My hand slides out of Solvej’s. She doesn’t stop to look at me as I grab hold of the tusk. I hide it behind my back. My heart is pounding wildly in my ears. Sweat coats my hands.

  I sense an unpleasant surprise, an ugly danger lurking. What does she have up her sleeve? Solvej cannot be trusted, and I know what I need to do to protect myself if it comes down to a battle. She’s the kind of woman that would feed me to the wolves and watch me become their dinner with a broad smile plastered over her face.

  “We need to hurry. She has little time.” She stops and turns. I halt at the split landing, my hand resting on the rail.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother is dying.”

  “What?” The urge to kill rises inside me. It feels like Solvej is to blame, and I have to stop my hands from closing around her neck. I have to speak to Karen. She can’t die before I speak to her. “What happened?”

  “There’s no time to explain,” she reaches out her hand. “Come now, before—”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” I pin my feet to the floor.

  “What did you expect,” she says. “We’re in war. The enemy got to her when they came searching for you. She no longer has the strength to fight the death spell.”

  The light from the landing darkens, like a black cloud closing in. I see a shadow breaking through the window. Glass shatters across the landing. I hear Solvej scream as dark blood pours out like a stream of water from her neck. A man, dressed in black from top to bottom, holds a knife in his hand. He turns toward me. I step down, my fingers twisted around the tusk.

  He towers over me like a big crow filling the white light with plumes of black feathers. I bury the tusk into his throat. He gasps for air, his eyes wide. He drops like timber landing between my feet. With the tip of my shoe I push him, and he tumbles down. A pool of red soaks the floor. I rush down to tear the mask from his face.

  “Who are you?” I say and yank him up, holding his collar. He sputters out blood, and I let go of him. His face is unfamiliar, but the tattoo creeping around his neck is not. He’s a Rognvald. “Were you sent by Lord William?” I shout.

  A dim whisper leaves his lips. “Orkeney.” he says.

  “You are a liar.” I scream. But it’s too late. He’s dead.

  I rush back to Solvej. She is trying to slow the flow of the blood pouring from her neck. But it’s no use. The thick dark blood keeps spilling. Air bubbles leave her mouth as she says. “Hurry, before they come for you.”

  Her hands drop to her side, her head still. Silence fills the air as I stare at her dead body realizing what has happened. I stand over her rubbing my eyes. I can’t bel
ieve she’s gone. A ray of colorless light creeps in from the broken window. The wind seeps like a whining child. The smell of iron fills the corridor.

  They are coming for me? Did she mean Magnus? He’d want the weapons. Only I don’t have them, Frederick does. I peer down the stairs where another dead body is sprawled across the floor. Why would Orkeney send Rognvald to kill Solvej and me? I am unable to move and struggle to gather my thoughts when I hear a voice. It’s not just any voice. It’s the sound of an old woman. It’s the sound of Karen.

  22

  Last Encounter

  SOLVEJ’S BLOOD STAINS my hands when I bend over her body to take the shawl from her shoulders. I use it to cover her face. Calamity. What just happened? I try not to let fear poison my mind. Solvej is dead, so is the man who killed her. Karen’s voice calls for me. I skip over Solvej’s corpse and walk up the stairs. I try one door after the other in the corridor. Every single room is empty. The house feels ghostly, eerie. I don’t have much time. Karen must be in one of the rooms. I need to see her, the deceitful mother who used me as a pawn in her game of power. Did she ever care about me? Or does she only care about one thing. I want to see her face when I tell her what I intend to do, before she dies.

  “Nora?” I hear a faint whisper. It’s from the room on the top floor. Hidden behind a tapered door is a narrow staircase. I hurry up the steps. I swing open the door. I find Karen in bed, battling between life and death. Her face is grey, ghostly. She notices my blood-coated hands.

  “So you finally decided to kill her.” she says leaning forward.

  “I didn’t kill Solvej.” My voice is clipped. I don’t feel much when I see Karen. No emotions, no sorrow or love. Perhaps I feel too much anger and regret.

  “The blood on your hands. Whom does it belong to?”

  “To a Rognvald raider. He must have been watching the house.”

  “They’re coming for you, Nora. You took a risk coming to see me.” She lowers her eyes, as if unable look at me.

  “I’ve not come to see you, Karen. I hope you die as soon I as I tell you—”

  “My own daughter wishes me dead.” Tears seep from her eyes.

  “What did you think? That you could hide a truth like that from me?” I sit on the bed next to her. Her face is in hopeless despair, like she knows she’s lost me. But of course she never had me to begin with. She gave me up the moment she decided to use me to execute her plan.

  “It’s no use telling you anything. You’re stubborn like your father.” Her voice is trembling, the air that expels from her lungs dry.

  “He’s dead.” I say.

  She sinks into the bed. Her face turned.

  “Is Robert gone?” The little glow left in her eyes, dies.

  “He sacrificed himself so that his other daughter could live.”

  “Grethe.”

  “You knew about her.”

  “I didn’t tell you because some things are better left unsaid.”

  “How about everything!” Anger boils in my veins. “How could you do this to me? Create my life to fulfill your own purpose? I’ve been through Helheim. Those scoundrels you call my ancestors, my blood. They’re all dead. I cut off their heads with their own sword.”

  “You did what? You fool of a girl. They were your only hope to—”

  “They were evil to the core, seeking release from the Emperor’s curse, and a return to Midgard. What would have happened to our world if I—”

  “I only have few breaths left. You must hurry away. They’re coming for you. Magnus’s men. They know you’re back, and that you have betrayed them. How could you side with the enemy? He’s a Veran.”

  “You know about betrayal. You caused all this, and I hate you for it. Do you hear me?” I yank her up. She is light as a feather.

  “Nora, the weapons. Where are they?” she croaks.

  “Why should I tell you?” I grit my teeth. “I’ll use them to defend us from the enemy.”

  “You have to be careful when you use the weapons.”

  “What are you talking about?” I bring her closer. I can smell her, a wilted flower.

  Her eyes shut so suddenly. “Karen?” I shake her, but she’s not breathing. Her skin is sallow, her hair white. Karen’s skin looks aged, like she turned ninety over the span of one year.

  I stare at her for a while. Her body is cold, frozen. Her death doesn’t affect me. I feel happy, like I should celebrate. My only remorse is that I never told her how I truly feel about the web of lies she pulled me into. I needed to tell her about the decision I have made. Now she will never know. As I walk away I stop to turn around. I stare at her one final time. Her soul is not in Valhalla. It’s in Helheim burning in all eternity. That’s not what I wished for her. That’s not what I would wish for my enemy.

  I hear the front door creak open downstairs. Heavy boots make slow even steps. I walk to the edge of the stairs and see a shadow. It’s not the army of men I expected to barge in, but someone else.

  “Frederick?”

  The shadow unwinds, and in the darkness I see his blue eyes sparkle.

  “Nora.” He smiles, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “Hurry, we have to get out of here,” says Frederick. “I have a tail following me. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “How did you—” I pause and catch my breath. “Did Andreas—”

  “In the name of Thor, move!” he hisses. He doesn’t seem happy to see me. I hurry down the stairs and reach for him. He takes my face into his cold hands and kisses me. The warmth from his lips and the softness of his skin feels familiar, and it eases me. There’s something on his mind, and he’s too tense to tell me. I can sense it from his body language. Stiff and locked.

  “Did you get Andreas’ message?”

  “I did” he says. “Nora, listen, we’re in danger and need to leave Chelsea this minute.”

  “What is going on?” I say. “Tell me.”

  “Raiders from both dynasties are looking for us,” says Frederick and drags me out. I stop and draw back. “What are you waiting for?”

  “What else aren’t you telling me?” Frederick feels different, the way he was when we were enemies. His mind is distant, far away.

  “There’s no time to discuss this here.” He looks at my hands, the red color dark and dry. “Why is there blood on your hands?”

  “A raider from Rognvald killed Solvej. I was sure she was trying to trick me. Except she wasn’t; She was bringing me to see Karen.”

  “Who the hell is Solvej?” he says. “Why would a raider be here?”

  “She is— was Karen’s housekeeper. The raiders have been watching the house.”

  “Did you speak to your mother? Did she tell you about the weapons?”

  “She’s dead.” I say coldly.

  “What?” His face creases, and a shadow surrounds him.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t kill her. The last thing I wanted is Karen’s blood on my hands, not after what happened with Robert.”

  “We don’t have time. Come on!” He motions with his hand and turns his back on me. “If we don’t leave now…”

  “Frederick, where are the weapons?”

  “They’re in a safe place.”

  I trust Frederick. He’s going to bring me to the weapons. He needs to or else I don’t know what I might do. I feel this urge to react madly; as if I was guilty of something terrible I cannot explain. Something that will only go away in an act of rage and murder. Is my curse taking over my reason?

  Outside is the motorcycle Andreas sent. Frederick must have brought it. I am reminded of the silly promise I made him. We’d race over Guldborg Bridge. Instead we race as one, together, fleeing from the eyes of those that want us for treason.

  Frederick hops onto the majestic ride. I sit tight behind him, my arms clutched around his waist. We drive off at high speed. The slushy roads are dangerous and frosty. Just as we leave the gate of Chelsea, Karen’s house and all the other houses explode. I watch through the rearv
iew mirror the flames rise like a dragon’s rage. Thunder shakes the earth beneath us. Black smoke and red fire curl into the air. The smell of petroleum and gas blends with ice and frost.

  I tighten my grip around Frederick’s waist. The snow doesn’t stop him from speeding through the traffic. Frederick drives smooth and fast around the gridlock, cutting corners in the heavy congestion of cars. Lines after lines, jammed up chaotically. In the central part of the city, there are pools of fire. Towers are burning, people screaming. BOOM. BOOM. There are explosions. Buildings are crumbling, and the large pillars holding monuments and sculptures fall into the harbor. People run in panic through the streets and avenues. We cross Guldborg Bridge. The images of horror are strangely familiar. I had this vision when I was in Dock Harbor outside Frederick’s apartment. The city is quickly turning into dust, and black smoke surrounds us. Balls of fire shoot over our heads and thunder continues to strike across the sky. It is our doom. The war has begun.

  On the other side of the bridge, across the frozen water, the Dome, in which the Viking lords rule is in flames. The magnificent pride of the West is burning away and is quickly turning into gray ashes. I hear screams echo in the streets as we flash by. There are hundreds of distressed faces flickering by. I can only look away to hide my own fear

  The weather is turning vile and the ice underneath the bridge is breaking. As I watch the City of Skies turn into nothing but dust guilt surrounds me. Why is this happening? Could I have done something to prevent it? The black twin towers where raiders reside and the surrounding skyscrapers are also in flames. Everything is falling apart. Everything.

  The black smoke and white snow together dance a deadly dance. My neck cranes to capture all the terror striking in lifeless colors. Bombs and missiles shoot, ships burn in the harbor. Frederick doesn’t stop, not for a moment. I feel his heart beat faster. He takes a sharp swing on a curved road and the noise settles, muffles as if it was never really there but part of my imagination.