City of Vikings

by Farah Cook

  “Is your freedom?” The wizard finishes my sentence. “The choice is yours, Nora. Freedom always comes at a cost. In your case, you want freedom to love the one boy who will cause the world to fall into darkness after a great war. The dark ways are upon us whether you like it or not.”

  “Why did the gods choose me?” I ask. “Is it because I am cursed? Or was it my dad’s defiance that brought this burden on me?”

  “Who knows the will of the gods. They do as they please.”

  “And Frederick? Did they curse him?”

  “No more than he cursed himself.”

  “Why does he hold my heart?”

  “You gave it to him, didn’t you?”

  “When?” I say, “I never—”

  “But you did, Nora Hunt, ahhh you did. The Empress awakened your heart when she should not have. Your heart awakened, but only because you wanted it to, not because you were ready. And you are still not ready. You may come here seeking your father, but really what you want is to find yourself.”

  “The weapons – the Viking assassin weapons. Where are they?”

  “You mustn’t be upset, but you’ll have to go through an unexpected journey to claim them. For the weapons are in a highly protected place, and if you want to claim them you must go on the deadliest journey in our history.”

  I frown. What did I expect anyway? To walk right in here and claim the location of the weapons? The wizard holds a mirror before me, I see nothing at first, and then I see my own reflection changing. I have coal-black hair and red eyes. I’m smiling delinquently and it changes my expression. The image disappears and I stare into the mirror again like someone who has never seen her own reflection before, but I see nothing except white smoke.

  “I don’t see myself anymore,” I say. “Why?”

  “The mirror shows you what you will become serving the Empire.”

  “But I don’t understand…”

  “You will, Nora, very soon you will.”

  Nimbly the wise old wizard turns away from me and leaves. Through the bars of the window, I see him melt into the dawn as the ash gray sky turns blood red.

  30

  THE NUMBNESS IN my arm is momentary. When I wake from my sleepless dream, I shake off the tingling sensation. From the window bars, the day is bright and light. I hear horses neigh and squeal. The wizard’s words from last night nag at me and there’s more on my mind than I’d like to admit. Frederick. He’s on my mind like a needle poking against my skin.

  I wonder why the wizard came to see me and he didn’t send my dad. Why doesn’t he know I am here? I sense him. He is here, but I also sense something else. Like a hidden rotten corpse, the smell of an unpleasant event is about to unfold.

  Some hours later the big-chested woman from last night unlocks the door. Reverently she looks at me, holding nothing but a hooded cloak in her hand. She holds it before my eyes. I take the garment and slip into it, playing her mute game at first. Then I change my mind.

  “Where are you taking me now?” I ask “And where are my friends? What have you done to Frederick? Answer me?”

  “You are not to ask any questions,” she says. “Your time for answers will come.” I follow her out into the main courtyard, which overlooks a beautiful meadow, shining bright in the open daylight. Men, women and children walk by dressed like me in tunics and trousers. The time we’re in feels different. Like we’ve gone back hundreds of years.

  From the corner of my eye I resist the temptation to look at the castle, strikingly visible in the mist of the city. A different version of Slotsplads perhaps, subtle like a fortress that was designed to go unnoticed. We do not walk to the castle, instead we turn right and cross a bridge.

  The entrance to the circular building is vast and full of people. The vault opens into the sky and an abundance of light falls in. As if lifted from the ground, the podium underneath my feet rises high and above the lining of the roof. The divide among the people in the room is clear, those dressed in gray sit at the front, and those in dark blue and black sit at the top, just above the main hall. I’m taken to a pillory, and instantly turn to run away, but the woman grabs me by the shoulder.

  “I’m not going into that,” I say.

  “It is not for you,” she says and motions toward the other woman who brings in Mina. Her eyes are scared and her body shivering. She’s opening her mouth to speak to me, but I can’t make out the words.

  “You are not putting her in there.” I roar loudly. The eyes of the assembly gather like small buttons around me as my voice echoes. They are not used to this type of behavior. Muted and tamed – I remember what Magnus told me about the customs they follow. It’s a different world all right.

  “Who dares raise their voice higher than the Earl’s?” says a voice from high above. “This gathering will not tolerate any further misconduct.”

  “Forgive me, the girl is not familiar with our way of life,” says the woman and yanks my arm hard. I twist it and soon it’s red from her firm grab.

  “Then teach her,” growls back the voice. She continues to hold my wrist forcefully, but I refuse to be treated this way and have Mina caged like an animal.

  “Why have you brought me here?” I shout. “I demand to know and I demand to speak to my dad right away. Does he know I am here?”

  “Be quiet.”

  The gathering falls silent as a grave and no one utters a single breath. A figure walks towards me with heavy steps, snorting heavily, and it’s a young face, long and square stares at me with green cat-like eyes.

  “What can the civilized teach the uncivilized?” he asks. I poke my head an inch forward, misled by his question. When I open my mouth, he cuts right through my words.

  “You shall not speak unless spoken to. Your claim about your dad, has no evidence, and so we are waiting for the Earl to make his presence known and decide your fate, and the fate of your less fortunate companions.”

  “What is this?” I demand. “A court hearing? I am not a criminal and neither are my companions so why are they treated this way?” I feel disheartened. I’ve suffered enough under the cruel and harsh rule of the Sovereign Republic, and refuse to continue feeling suppressed.

  “A hearing this is indeed,” he says, “For your companions have broken the law.” He’s unable to look me in the eyes.

  “We have not broken any law,” I say and straighten my spine. “We have traveled far and long to get here, risking our lives.”

  “Entering a secret city, the penalty is death – and death you shall feel one way or another, miss. If your journey did not kill you, the laws of this city will.”

  “Our journey was approved by the senate in the Triangle,” I say. “I can prove it.”

  “Yours, miss, but not his,” he points his sharp finger past my nose and when I look beyond the mass of people I see Frederick’s head and hands hanging from the pillory. He’s been tortured. His lip is cracked and bleeding and his face bruised. “And certainly, not hers.” He curls his lip upward and gestures his head toward Mina. He doesn’t look in her direction either and I’m beginning to feel this era in time has suffered a lapse of humanity.

  “I demand that you let both of my companions go,” I say without raising my voice. From his looks, he’s ready to feed me to the lions. “Dammit! Let them both go now!” This time I scream so the room echoes. No one reacts to my scream, so I yank loose and march toward Frederick. I take his face in my hands, and kiss his eyes. I fiddle with the lock, and manage to set him free. He drops to the ground, little life that he has, he gathers himself and coughs out a few small breaths.

  “Frederick, are you okay?” I ask, worried. He’s begging me for water, half unconscious, and I reach out for a jug to quench his thirst. Some life comes through him, and as he regains his consciousness a cold breeze caresses my skin. Empowering, it takes over my senses and I sweep into a dream. Like I’ve been there before. The green grass and meadow peaks. I hear Frederick say my name, but the paralysis in my body
leaves me unable to move.

  The sound of my own name in my ears amplifies, when I hear heavy footsteps walk in my direction – the leather creaking on the soft soil. My hand reaches into the dirt, a fistful in my grasp. I know this land. The wind blows my hair so it dances around my face. Lifeless, my body falls to the ground. Unearthly whispers in Norse fill my ears.

  Frederick shakes me hard and I stand up and remove the tangled hair from my face. I stare at him, firmly by my side, and he looks at me like he never wants to let me go. The sorrow in his eyes is soft like rose petals. His dry lips brush mine only for a second. I can taste the blood from his mouth. What wouldn’t I give to be with him? But my life, and my freedom that I hold so dear are one way or another in danger from every side. From my own Viking clan of Goths. What would they do if I defied them? From the Sovereign Republic – who’d want me dead as soon as they steal the map to the nine worlds of the Vikings from me.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he said. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, bewildered. A vision or blur perhaps. I am not sure and the feeling remains and tightens around my chest.

  Then I hear it, the same leather creaking, with each step coming closer. The crowds part and the colors of their clothes, gray and dark blue melt into a union of humble stares and bowed heads. In the distance a tall majestic shadow walks into the hall.

  I don’t blink. The shadow is slowly taking shape behind the mass of people crowding to the front. The moment I’ve been waiting for my entire life has arrived, and I try to contain my heart as I fall short of breath.

  “All bow, for Earl Robert Hunt.”

  I see his face, and it is the face of an angel.

  For a brief while time stands still. The walls around me fall apart. This, moment in time, I am standing face to face with my dad. It is not a dream and the long and dangerous journey I have been on has finally brought me to him. His tall frame and broad shoulders are firm like pillars. His green eyes hard with a soft edge and his silver-gray hair long and wispy.

  My ability to speak or breathe stands still. There are so many things I want to say, but I am afraid what it might mean if I do. There’s no grief in my heart – only happiness. Perhaps I am insane. Never have I felt this way before. Protected, guarded and safe in someone’s presence like I do in his and yet – in so many ways he is a complete stranger to me and the only thing I have in common with this man is blood.

  The silence stings me, he doesn’t move his eyes away from mine. Tears begin to well in them and without saying anything he reaches out and holds me close. My arms linger lifeless at my sides at first. I find some emotion, sensing the feeling in my limbs. Slowly I tie my arms around him. His firm broad figure – warrior like, and not fatherly, stands rooted to the ground. I bury my head into his chest and his strands of silver hair caress my face, reminding me of my own.

  He smells earthly and fresh like the ocean that’s been travelling far and long, caressing mountain peaks and icy glaciers. For this very moment is more unreal to me than finding the hidden City of Vikings.

  Whispers from people around us reach my ears. No ordinary whispers. Curious words and questions like they have been expecting this moment to arrive, but never believed it would.

  “Who is that girl?” says one voice. “And why is she embracing the Earl like that?”

  “Commoners from the world outside,” answers another.

  “They’re no commoners. She carries the Goth Viking tattoo on her wrist.”

  “Why have they come here?” The voice is husky and afraid. “Where there will be one there will be others.”

  “We can’t hide forever, Henrik. Soon the war will be upon us. I believe she has come for it, and he’ll have no choice than to give it to her, if she’s strong enough to defeat the young Duchess.”

  “No one is able to defeat the Duchess. Don’t be stupid.”

  Suddenly a strong scent of jasmine travels through my senses and when I raise my head from my dad’s shoulder I see her – stiff faced with a crocked smile, dressed in golden jewels and the finest white silk dress. Who is she? She looks young, thirteen maybe fourteen. But her posture and attitude is mature, ladylike. Gracefully she tilts her head to the side when my eyes settle on hers. She is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, but there’s also something deadly about her and she looks familiar.

  “Meet Grethe,” he says and turns me around. On her face, below her high cheekbones a small tattoo is visible. A symbol with four intersecting circles – similar to the one I carry on my wrist. Grethe stretches out her hand formally and her handshake feels hard. I look into the eyes of the Earl. Deep and still like a quiet ocean in the early mornings. Who is she?

  “Grethe,” he says with a fierce pride, “is your sister.”

  City of Vikings

  We hope you enjoyed City of Vikings, book two in The Viking Assassin Series. Be part of Nora's enthralling journey and watch out for City of Assassins, book three in the series.

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