by Amy B. Nixon
For a little while, I had forgotten why I decided to take a midnight tour. The beautiful melody he played and his modesty about it, along with our talk about the house spirits, had taken my mind off the real issues.
But in the midst of the silence it all came back to me.
“Was the Council really going to keep my guardian situation a secret from me? Don’t bother lying, because Monika already confessed.”
He eyed the piano’s keys with the same impenetrable exterior.
“I’m not surprised she told you. Monika is convinced everything that happened to the four of you is completely her fault. The way I see it, it was the result of a series of poor choices each of you made. Nevertheless, no one can blame you for not being able to predict the Nøkk’s attack.”
“I asked you a question.”
“Yes, we would have kept it a secret until you were ready to take your place in the world outside. It’s best for you to focus on your training rather than worry about what lies beyond the castle walls.”
“So, I can’t have a say in how I should live my own life?”
He fixed his eyes on mine, still as expressionless as the stone wall behind him. Weird. He’d seem so friendly and approachable when I woke up in the infirmary. This switch from amiable to cold bothered me. I preferred him being sincere, even if he was delusional because I’d saved his sister’s life.
“Well?” I pressed with growing irritation.
“I also have a guardian, I actually have an entire team of guardians; and as such, I can tell you it’s not something you should be rebelling against.”
“You’re a fucking Council member, Dann; I’m just an insignificant island resident! I don’t need someone to watch my every move!”
“You’re not insignificant. Every single soul on this island is equally significant and deserving of every protection we can provide, regardless of their last name.”
“That’s not my point!”
“I know what your point is. If you still feel the same way after you’ve completed your training, you can take up the guardian issue with the Council. Until then, we won’t try to force someone into taking Monika’s place. We took a vote and came to a conclusion that for the time being, the most practical decision would be to let you worry only about learning how to control your abilities.”
Maybe it was because he wasn’t a shriveled, coldhearted, ancient asshole like the rest of the Council members. Maybe it was because it seemed like they had learned their lesson with the guardian fiasco. Or maybe it was because he was friendly and cared for everyone, even when they acted out. Unsure of the exact reason, somehow I trusted him.
“What’s the deal with the Council, anyway? From what I’ve heard, Johanna Larsen is in politics. What about the rest? Why does your uncle need them?”
He stared at me for a few heartbeats, without even blinking. I had never met anyone who had perfected the poker face to such extent.
“In the early twentieth century, a Nordstrøm gathered eight other powerful necromancers, forming what they called a Council of Nine. All Council members were allowed to monitor his affairs closely as a means to find proof Nordstrøms had changed.”
“Changed how?” I demanded, overtaken by curiosity.
“Stopped killing, taking blood slaves, stealing souls, lusting to bring Midgard and realms beyond it to their knees. Frankly, the Council has always been nothing more than an overpraised formality. If we wanted to sow terror, a handful of casters wouldn’t stop us.”
“Wooow! And here we joked about me going into Sauron mode. So, your ancestors are the reason for Dark Ages in the supernatural communities? And that’s why magical schools don’t allow necromancers? And video games portray them as the villains?”
He nodded a couple of times, then his gaze dropped. The stony face never changed.
“But people trust you now,” I said after a while. “This island is a safe haven for different types of creatures. And my aunt didn’t send me to some other place in search for safety. She sent me here.”
“Yes, because the island is the most heavily warded place in Midgard. Not everyone trusts us, though. That’s where the Council comes in. They are all Class Five necromancers with cleaner reputations than ours. If they trust us, the world out there is more likely to trust us. Hallvard keeps them as a means to verify we won’t return to our ancestors’ savagery.”
“Like secretly raising an army of Draugar and stolen souls on those floating islands?”
“Something like that.” He looked up from the piano’s keys. “You can go there if you want to, but first you need to learn how to travel through a portal. The first few times might be hard.”
I crossed my ankles, fully leaning against the door. “Do you assume everything might be hard for me because I wasn’t raised like you?”
“Not everything, just some aspects. And it’s completely natural to find them difficult. While we’re on the subject, did you get a chance to read the Svipdagsmál poems?”
The mention of those two poems made me more uneasy than his expressionless mask. Of course I had read them, and of course I had regarded them as a piece of off-putting fiction. The plot was centered on the hero’s quest to find his love, which was the last thing I wanted to think about.
“Yeah. Both. Let’s go back to the Council thing. Why are you on it? What does your uncle gain out of you being there, instead of another Class Five necromancer who isn’t a Nordstrøm?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Hallvard wants me to take over after he steps down.”
“Why?”
He drew in a deep breath. Just as I thought I’d see the friendly Dann resurface, he simply twisted his neck back, eyeing the ceiling.
“Because the Institute for Necromancers in Sweden closed down and I blew my chances of teaching at the Zolotov Academy in Russia. Are you asking me out of your infamous unhealthy curiosity, or are you trying to avoid the subject of the Svipdagsmál poems?”
Something about his cold, wintry tone made me feel even worse. Losing two teaching positions – as unbelievable as it seemed for such an awesome lecturer – was obviously a painful topic for him.
Nice work, Learyn, I told myself. The guy kept being friendly for weeks, and all you did was strike where you shouldn’t. No wonder you don’t have any friends.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“What did you think of the poems?”
Dann was one of the few good lecturers I had encountered in my life. Screw that! He topped the list of the best lecturers I had encountered. After everything I’d been through lately, I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I tried to pick my words carefully.
“Umm… I can agree about Svipdag’s journey being difficult. Everything you said about him was true.”
His hands dropped to the sides and his eyes bore into mine.
“You didn’t relate to Svipdag?”
“Maybe it’s because he lived in medieval times? And things were different back then?”
“Some things are timeless.”
I didn’t reply.
He kept looking at me with that same expression. Flat and devoid of emotion. It was like staring at a thick wall and trying to guess what the fuck was happening behind it.
Silence. Nothing other than silence.
As if the stairs weren’t painful and the dungeons creepy enough already, his reaction made my ending up here even more awkward. Why was he playing the piano here, when he had an entire castle with many peaceful and quiet rooms? And why did I have to get lost exactly in the dungeons? Just because nowadays they weren’t used for incarceration, it didn’t mean they were cozy.
Most of all, Dann’s cold silence made this entire situation almost unbearable.
Despite his previous friendliness, he still had the ability to seem way too intimidating for someone who was only twenty-six. Maybe it was the icy color of his eyes. Or maybe it was his last name. It sure as hell wasn’t his lecturing position, let alone hi
s position on the Council, because my problem with authority knew no bounds.
“Can I ask you something?” I muttered after an eternity.
A smile broke through his expressionless mask, carving that set of dimples in his cheeks, and he suddenly became less intimidating.
“What truant thoughts run through thy head?”
He spoke the question in English. This time I didn’t get any of the strange sensations from the night he had recited poetry.
I readjusted my body against the door, trying to formulate my question. After examining the floor as if it held answers, I decided to be a grown-up and search for them myself.
“Why are you always nice and forgiving to me? I’ve caused troubles for the Council, disrupted your discipline, vandalized a room, attacked guards with death magic, transformed the island’s fauna into undead creatures, insulted you personally, and done other stupid shit.”
“Do any of the aforementioned pose a reason for me not to be nice and forgiving?”
Yeah, I replied in my mind, judging by the response every other person eventually had to my screw-ups.
“Is it because I’m a Dustrikke?” I spilled the words before even contemplating on them. My fingers instinctively clutched the Eitrhals to ease the weight it suddenly pressed onto my chest.
He glanced at the piano’s keys again. “Tragic, isn’t it? How a single word can possess enough power to become such a burden.”
Taken aback by his perspicacious conclusion, I remained silent.
Was I really so transparent? Or did he understand because bearing the Nordstrøm name was a burden for him thanks to his ancestors? I wasn’t sure how to ask either question.
“It’s not because you’re a Dustrikke. I don’t treat anyone differently because of their last name.”
“You believe everyone deserves a second chance, huh?”
“No, actually. I believe everyone deserves a plethora of chances because there are many layers to every person. Unfortunately, more than one of those layers is disappointing, hence why everyone should have more than one additional chance to redeem themselves.”
“Isn’t that just a formula for more disappointment?”
His life wisdom had its advantages and was a redeeming quality on its own, but I couldn’t accept it. When I gave new chances to people, it always meant giving them new opportunities to disappoint me again.
And when he opened his mouth, I didn’t get the answer I expected.
“Learyn, why are you wandering the sublevels at night?”
What the hell? Did everyone suddenly have a problem with me being out of bed in the middle of the night? Was Dann, who had stated everyone deserved many chances literally a minute ago, also worried I’d screw up again?
“I didn’t mean to roam the dungeons. Got lost, followed the music, ended up here.”
That was the truth. The I-needed-to-get-away-from-people’s-bullshit truth was a different subject.
“Everyone is still on edge after the accident, and it’s a bad time to be taking walks in the moonlight. You should get back to your room.”
Whoa! Why was he acting so strange and trying to get rid of me? He didn’t mind being chatty about books and stuff a minute ago. Using my shock’s silence, he spoke again.
“Go through the door behind me. It leads to a tunnel. Take the passageway branching on the left. You’ll see a staircase. Climb the top without taking any side routes on any of its landings. There’s a vertical flap door at the end of the stairs, which will lead you to the central wing’s inner entryway, near the main gates. I take it you can find your way to your room from there?”
I nodded, staring at him in bewilderment.
Seriously, what had just happened? Based on my personal experience, he was friendly with everyone, even when they provoked him. Since my friend Monika was a lying piece of shit, everyone here was afraid of me, and my mentor was an abusive ass, I had no one else to talk to apart from Dann. And I actually liked talking to him. Jokes set aside, he was a calm and reasonable grown-up.
Ironically enough, he obviously wanted me gone.
“Oookay. Sorry once again for ruining your privacy, and thanks for the tips. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Before I could take more than a few steps, the dungeons disappeared.
I was standing in the middle of a thick, lush forest, screaming at Maksim Larsen at the top of my lungs.
And I had never meant to say any of the words I was blurting out, but it was already too late. I was so fucking aggravated, that I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.
“Dann was the first one who came to see me in the infirmary when my blood was infected with Nøkken poison! Remember that? It was your sister’s great idea to take me to a bunch of Nøkk in the first place, and she didn’t even bother coming in to check if I was alive!”
Maksim had lost his grammar and lexis, but I sure as hell hadn’t. My voice raged like the anger pulsating through my veins.
“Dann has always treated me like a normal person! Dann has always cared for me, not for my last name! He was the only one who was there for me because he wanted to, not because he was obliged to by the Council or by the rest of this absurd necromantic hierarchy! Now tell me again how he’s worse than the rest of your fucking friends!”
I blinked. Maksim, the forest, my anger – everything vanished. All I could see was the castle’s dungeon and that damn expressionless mask painted on Dann’s face again.
“What’s the matter?” His raspy voice was flat, even, like the look he gave me. “You just came to a halt.”
“Nothing,” I muttered with confusion as to why my craziness had taken over again, serving me another episode of what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-me.
This time, however, my hallucination, or whatever it was, kind of made sense. I was hurt by Monika’s betrayal. Part of me thought Maksim had known about the guardian thing from the beginning, which automatically made him a liar. Trust issues occupied every cell in my body. My brain basically screamed at me how the only person I could put my trust in was Dann, because he hadn’t abused it yet.
But none of it explained why I was hallucinating. Or why these things were happening only when I was around him. Not just around him, but alone with him. And the library hadn’t given me any answers.
He had offered to talk about these weird visions once, but the last thing I wanted was to admit I was a freak. So, I took another step, ready to walk away. Then something else sprang to my mind.
“What does Marked by Amyria mean?”
“I don’t know.”
When he spoke, his eyes tore through me like jagged icicles. It didn’t sound like a lie, but his wintry, reserved behavior was definitely hiding something.
“The Nøkk kept repeating it.”
“Yes, Aurora and Monika already mentioned that.”
“Aren’t you curious what it means?”
“I am, but I couldn’t find answers.”
“What if you searched in the wrong places?”
“Good night, Learyn.”
I nodded silently, biting back my urge to keep asking.
After following his directions, I ended up exactly where he said I would. What he had failed to explain, however, was how the other side of the vertical flap door, facing the roomy entryway, was a gigantic portrait of some medieval dude.
It was a secret passageway! I had literally walked out of a secret passageway!
The momentary excitement rushing through my system managed to restore some of my previous awe of the castle, despite its hostile dungeons.
To Dwell On A Note
December brought more snow, plunging the world outside in serene stillness.
The situation indoors was similar – cold and quiet – or at least it was in my room. Although wall-mounted radiators kept temperatures inside the castle pleasantly warm, chilly shivers kept running through me whenever I saw something belonging to Monika. Which was basically all the time because we shared a room.
&nbs
p; I wasn’t speaking with her, despite her few attempts to apologize. Apologies couldn’t erase the past and fix it. This time I wasn’t acting childish and overemotional. I was simply being reserved and unwilling to talk to the person who’d been lying and pretending ever since day one. And instead of pondering over her hurtful betrayal, I chose to lock it away and act like a grown-up, which meant keeping my attention strictly on magic during the day. While at night, all I did was toss and turn.
Sleep was basically nonexistent. I felt like someone had squeezed me like a dirty rag and wiped the floor with me.
I managed to stay awake during our book club’s monotonous discussion on twentieth century Dökkálfar trials, Marcus Dahl’s disappointment of the fact I couldn’t do anything about Aperture, then Svensson’s irritation over the lack of an apparition in the pentagram I had drawn for our evocation exercise. I was focusing with both guards and with Geira Brekke, but despite my best attempts, I kept hearing gurgling noises and female shrieks all day long.
“Try, Miss Dustrikke!”
Svensson was getting impatient with me. My progress bar was still set at zero.
“I’m beginning to think you’re not trying on purpose.”
She tapped her foot against the table’s leg. We were sitting opposite each other, with my Spirit Trap between us.
“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted quietly. “Because maybe suppressing my necromantic power is the best choice. This way nothing bad can come from using my magic.”
“On the contrary. You must learn how to control it, otherwise you will lose control, and nothing bad will become something disastrous. Or have you forgotten what happened to my colleagues?”
“How could I forget?” I snapped, kicked back my chair and got up. “How could I ever forget I unintentionally murdered two people? Just because Marcus Dahl brought them back, it doesn’t make light of the fact my magic was lethal. Now you’re asking me to bother the dead with the same lethal magic. Why shouldn’t they get to finally rest in peace, away from this fucked up world? Why shouldn’t monstrosities end with death?”
