Clarinda brought the quarterstaff down on the skeleton’s head with a tremendous effort, but it bounced harmlessly off the tiara, and forced Clarinda to take a step back.
“Modgud.” A female’s voice echoed across the vast gallery, piercing the dead air with a startling vibrancy. Aurelius and Clarinda couldn’t see anyone who might have spoken.
“Mistress,” rattled the skeleton, the black cavities of its eye-sockets less than a hand-span from the knight’s face, “they’re in your hall without crossing Giöll Bridge. The Norn may pass, but he’s made no payment. Payment must be made. I am charged with collecting the Blod Betaling.”
“Release him.”
Modgud obeyed, releasing its grip and stepping backward a few paces. Aurelius tried to remain standing, but dropped to his knees, inhaling raggedly as he began to go into shock.
Clarinda came to his side, pulling open his tunic.
“It’s bad,” she said, dropping the quarterstaff, and bunching what cloth she could back into the wound. She pulled both halves of the garment into the bloody gash.
“We need to get him stitched!” she yelled, intensely aware of how close she was to his body as she tried to cover the wound by putting her hands all over his dense muscles and warm skin.
Idiota! She thought angrily. How callous a sea-girl am I, that I’d even think such things at a time like this?
“Warrior, pay Modgud.”
Aurelius, grateful that Clarinda’s efforts seemed to be stopping the blood flow, sought the source of the voice. A figure stood some hundreds of cubits distant. From such an expanse, the person should have been shouting to make herself heard; yet her voice was almost conversational in tone and volume.
“My blood isn’t for the taking,” he gasped.
“Call off your guard and get some help!” Clarinda shouted. “I’m a Norn, Hela, and request this of you by the Nine and Fated Three.”
“Well-phrased, Child,” the distant woman said, “but unnecessary. The Blod Betaling is already taken.”
They could see her moving toward them then, and as she drew closer Aurelius saw that Hela wasn’t alone. An animal like a large dog padded beside the woman.
Hela was clad in a flowing hooded cloak of deepest ebony. She soared across the white marble like a black-plumed raven sweeping upon its prey. As she got closer, a coldness radiated from her that made the frosty air of the gallery seem warm. Half of her face was visible in the shadow of the cowl, and eyes black as pools of night glared at him from a gaunt, pockmarked face of alabaster complexion.
Another pit of dread opened in his stomach as he took in her animal companion — at almost a meter high, the wolf was gigantic and monstrous. Its fanged maw slavering, the wolf loped easily beside Hela, fixing hungry yellow eyes on the bloodied knight.
The two figures stopped a few paces from them.
“Modgud doesn’t miss,” the woman continued. “You’ve somehow arrived here without dying, but she’s opened your back. Those so wounded do not recover from her touch.”
“He must pay in blood,” the skeleton reasserted. She’d crossed her arms firmly across her chest, the ribcage visible through the material of the brown robe.
“However,” the white-skinned woman said, “if you let her take the blood that she’s let, you’ll heal and be allowed to pass into Hel.”
“God willing, I have no intention of going to Hell,” Aurelius replied.
“You’re already here, my friend.” Hela hissed in the way of a serpent given the gift of language. “Let her have the blood. You’ve no need of that which has been lost. Trust me, the healing will keep more from flowing.”
Her words, despite the manner of their utterance, somehow gave him confidence.
“Bene — sia fatto,” he agreed, in no condition to argue. “Let it be done.”
The woman nodded at the skeletal warrior. Modgud moved next to the knight, her bony forearm pushing Clarinda out of the way. When she withdrew her hand, her white fingers were even more stained with blood than his own had been.
“Giöll’s Price has been paid. Go on your way, Traveler. May you find rest and peace in Hela’s Home.” The skeleton bowed first to Aurelius and then to her dark mistress.
“Thank you, Modgud. As ever, you’ve done well. Return to the river.”
The skeletal figure moved away, her bones clicking again upon the stone floor. Tip, tap. Tip, tap. Then Modgud vanished into the white of the hall like a nightmare fades in daylight.
Aurelius straightened. As promised, both the pains in his back and that of his face and hand were gone. He looked at Clarinda, who returned attention to his back and saw that even the torn cloth had been fused into a single piece again.
“I can’t see your back,” she said, “but the tunic’s back to normal.”
Ignoring the cold, Aurelius pulled his shirt up, and Clarinda leaned forward, touching the area where she’d just been desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood. She ran a hand along his smooth flesh, marveling at the fact that there wasn’t even a scar. She’d also never seen so muscular a man....
“Clarinda?” he asked. “Is there something wrong?”
She became aware that her hand still rested on his warm shoulder blade. Mortified at the lingering, she pulled her hand away, yanked down the tunic, and cleared her throat.
“It’s fine...it’s all fine back there...I mean, on your back. There’s no wound anymore. It’s like there was never even a cut there.”
He smiled weakly at her. “Grazie, mia amica.” He nodded at the blood all over the floor. “I thought this was it.”
“Not yet,” she smiled, and turned to the woman in black, regaining her composure by not looking at him.
“Hela, I’m Clarinda Trevisan — I’ve been told by the Norn, Urd, that I’m her future incarnation, although I’d like to believe that Fate can be changed.” She bowed. “Greetings, and we ask for safe passage to Niflheim and thence to the Roots of Yggdrassil.”
“The roots of the World Tree?” Aurelius asked, confused.
“It’s the only way out of Hel,” Clarinda whispered. “Bow.”
Aurelius followed her direction, and bowed low.
The woman acknowledged both of their courtesies with a nod and clasped her hands behind her back.
“Vellkomen, Norn — now that I’ve seen you, I almost might believe that Urd chose well in selecting you.”
She turned her attention to the Hospitaller, and her welcoming smile was a ghastly thing.
“And you are Servius Aurelius Santini, the Son of Jotunheim, Walker Between the Worlds, Doomed Knight, and Codex Wielder for the next nine centuries.”
The Queen of Death bowed to him.
“Vellkomen to my home, Lord Aurelius — you will visit often, even live here for some time, but I give you my word that I’ll not take you as mine until almost a thousand years hence.”
Chapter 5
A Walk in Hela’s Halls
Disconcerted and dismayed by Hela’s words, Aurelius tried to think of something to say, but Clarinda spoke first.
“Where did you get those predictions from?” the Venetian girl asked. “There’s nothing like that in the manuscripts I’ve been reading — and I’ve read almost everything I could get my hands on about the Codex Lacrimae.”
Aurelius looked at her, stunned. “You have?”
“Not a word from you,” she said, keeping her eyes focused on Hela. “Not right now.”
Clarinda was furious! Primo, she was annoyed at herself for starting to feel any kind of attraction toward Santini when she knew very well that it was possible the rumors about the Battle of Mecina were all true.
Secondo, she was still galled at what she’d learned about the Codex Lacrimae reading by Mimir’s Well — information that, while disturbing, wasn’t as much as she’d have expected considering the Norns all-powerful role in the Nine Worlds. If even half of the myths about the tome were true, then it was a work of almost pure evil. How could even so h
ighly a reputed knight and obviously clever young man like Santini manage its power? The Dark Book was so powerful that it was reputed to rival the cosmic forces wielded by Odin the All-Father himself!
E terzo, there was indignation at Hela’s behavior! Although healed now, Santini’s wound had been horrific — a slash that cleaved through muscles, exposed part of his spine, and forced Clarinda to push hard against internal organs with all of her strength just to keep his body from falling apart. Modgud shouldn’t have been allowed to collect a ‘payment’ when one of the Norns was accompanying a visitor to Hel! Even if she weren’t technically Urd yet, Clarinda knew that leeway existed for a Sister of Fate to bring ‘guests’ through Hela’s domains so that the sinning person could see firsthand the nightmares that awaited if ways weren’t changed.
Besides malice — and possibly testing Santini to see if he could muster the power of the Codex — Clarinda couldn’t see any reason for the attack by Modgud, and the pointlessness of it irritated her to no end.
Finally, there was Hela’s greeting of Santini and all that her words betokened.
Nine centuries until Death comes to claim him, Clarinda? Even your bones will be dust in a forgotten grave by then. He’s going to spend some time here, living in Hel? The Queen of the Dead bows to him? Has he really killed that many people? What do I even know about him at all? He saved us from the Fossegrim, but if he’d listened to me and not touched the River Perilous in the first place, we wouldn’t even be here! Same thing goes for grabbing Hav’s little “gift” and transporting us to Hel.
“You would know, had you come by the normal paths and not by those of the Codex.” Hela smiled, and a chill passed through Clarinda.
“We didn’t come here because of the Codex Lacrimae,” Clarinda riposted. “Santini touched a gift from a Nøkken.”
“Are you sure?” Hela mused. “I’ve never heard of a fossegrim being able to transport through the worlds. That’s why they remain in the seas and waterways.”
Clarinda was suddenly uncertain. She’d assumed that the coincidence of Santini touching the leather envelope and their appearance in Hel were related. She’d not even considered the possibility of the Codex Lacrimae at work because the Dark Book wasn’t here.
Or was it?
She looked at Santini and wondered, and then Hela spoke again.
“Enough of this. Come, Children — there’s someone who’d like to speak with you. We sensed your arrival and I came to give proper greeting.”
In a flowing movement of her swirling black cape, Hela stepped between Clarinda and Aurelius and put her arm possessively through his. He looked to Clarinda, and she gave a slight nod. She was touched that he sought her guidance when Hela was certainly doing all she could create tension between them, and then got angry at herself for feeling anything agreeable toward him. Even if he’d used the Codex Lacrimae unwittingly, it was still his fault that they were in Hel.
“Come,” Hela repeated, and she began leading them back the way she’d originally come. Clarinda stooped and retrieved Santini’s sword, coming up behind the two from his side so that she could return it to him hilt first. He appeared grateful for the opportunity to disengage himself from Hela, and took back the falchion. As he did so, he looked at his hand, and — after quickly re-sheathing the sword — flexed it in appreciation.
“Yes, you’re completely healed, Warrior,” Hela said. She’d neared him to retake his arm, but Aurelius moved to take Clarinda’s hands in his own.
“You’re still freezing,” he observed, “and you look a mess. All this blood…,” he murmured.
He turned to their host. “She needs to get cleaned up and something warmer than my cloak,” Aurelius said, not liking the way that Hela had greeted him, but obviously not intending to overlook the advantages of the respect that she’d accorded him.
“Of course, Warrior,” Hela said. “Just ahead, there are warm fountains and fresh clothes.”
They resumed following her as the wolf paced beside them.
“It’s your first time here, so I think that some guidance is in order,” Hela offered. “This tower is part of a larger citadel that overlooks the Hvergelmir, a great waterfall that flows from one of the glaciers in Niflheim. Modgud usually can be found at the crystal bridge that spans one of them, the Giöll River.”
“She’s a guard, or sentry?”
“There was no need for Modgud to attack us,” Clarinda interrupted. “I might not fully be a Norn, but Urd said that you usually give more respect to us than what I just saw.”
Hela stopped. “You’re completely correct, Merchant’s Daughter, and I offer an apology with only this explanation: the Codex Light around Master Santini would’ve drawn Modgud to whatever part of this realm he appeared in. While I don’t know as much as I’d care to know about it, I do know that it’s partly a creation of the Dark Elves. Modgud’s death was a particularly excruciating one at that kind’s hands. She’ll never forgive, nor forget, I’m afraid.”
Clarinda didn’t know what to say – she saw no such aura around her companion!
“What does that mean?” Aurelius asked irritably. “Everyone I meet in these lands,” and he looked pointedly at Clarinda, too, “including you, seems to know something about the Codex Lacrimae and me that I’m unaware of. I just saw the book for the first time a few hours ago.”
Hela smiled. “I believe there’s much I can teach both of you, if you’ll let me.”
“Do you enjoy the views from this place?” She asked, changing the subject in a soft voice that possessed none of its earlier, hissing intonations. She brought Santini to one of the side windows in the long gallery. Both Norn and Hospitaller glanced at her. The cowled robe somehow had slipped off one shoulder, and they saw that she had extraordinarily long, braided black hair. “The windows of this hall are the Vinduene Illevarslende, my ‘Windows Portentous.’”
Clarinda’s irritation with everything about this place deepened. Was Death flirting with Santini? And was it her imagination, or was Hela’s skin becoming less white, even-tanned, and supple as they spoke?
“We couldn’t see much outside except snow and darkness,” Aurelius responded, clearing his throat uncomfortably as he, too, seemed to notice the transformation in Hela.
The youth turned toward one of the windows and observed that the blizzard still raged. He blinked, then said in alarm, “There’s someone out there!”
“Really?” Hela murmured as the knight moved closer to the window. She moved close against him, which made Clarinda roll her eyes and step protectively toward the other side of the knight. Was he a complete idiot that he didn’t see Death making some kind of move on him?
Snow swirled around the figure that hovered in the air outside. Clarinda looked through the window. The shadowed form drifted to the glass and looked back at the group. The apparition of an adolescent boy — brown-skinned, with tousled dark hair — glared at Aurelius and shouted something that couldn’t be heard above the storm’s din. The young man pressed his hands against the window, slamming them repeatedly in an attempt to enter.
Aurelius backed away, ignoring Hela’s words as the sight of blood in the chest area of the boy’s desert kaftan recalled memories of five years past.
“He’s the one from Mecina,” Aurelius muttered. “The first one.”
“Yes,” Hela observed, “He was the first of the brothers to come over the wall. He did it on a dare, wanting to show his brothers that he could kill the nazaros, the Christians. You widowed many wives that night, Servius Aurelius Santini, but you also took a multitude of mothers’ children.” She paused and smiled. “‘Butcher,’ indeed.”
Hela placed a hand upon his shoulder as she spoke. Santini flinched, but didn’t move, and Clarinda bit her tongue at the impulse to defend him. Here was part of his past, drifting through the blizzard-filled space outside Hel’s citadel for all to see. Clarinda had killed in the past, too, so she reserved judgment on any deaths meted out by Santini.
For his part, he continued to watch the boy try to get inside the gallery, wanting to cover his ears to not hear the scratching on the thick window panes, but not able to muster enough energy to lift his hands. He began to feel that perhaps he did belong here. If he just trusted Hela and let her lead him where she would, there might be a way to finally atone for the sins of the past, the killings at Mecina. What was the use of fighting her? Could one really resist the inevitability of Death?
More young men had joined the first, all clad as if shielding themselves from a desert sun rather than this winter clime. One of the bodies was without a head, another next to him missing an arm, and all who hovered in the blizzard were covered with blood that wetly absorbed the snow drifting onto everything else.
“It was dark. I had to stop them.” He said distantly, unable to tear his gaze from the window.
“Of course you did.” Hela gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked at her, confused. Why hadn’t he seen her beauty before now? She’d let her dark robes fall slightly open, revealing an azure gown that was cut to the midriff. He averted his eyes from her exposed cleavage, and released her hand as he moved away from the window.
“Still,” Hela said musingly, “a strange night for a priest, wasn’t it? Killing seventeen people within a few hours?”
“They would’ve taken the fortress!” Aurelius said. Then he tried to get away from the window of the dead, glancing in spite of himself at another as he began to move more quickly. “Of course they would have, my dear,” Hela said, approaching him. The black robe was still open to her waist, and he now saw in the woman’s face a striking resemblance to Clarinda! The real Clarinda came to stand by his side, muttering something under her breath in Italian about the unbelievable audacity of some harlots. “But, these deaths are all in the past, you must now look to the future.”
They continued to move down the gallery. Now the deaths portrayed in the windows were not only Aurelius’s own. Through one window there fought many Viking warriors. They were clad in furs and rushing onto a seashore from longboats with curved, vertical prows that resembled great dragons. The townspeople from a nearby burning village put up a furious defense.
The Codex Lacrimae Page 31