Rune Sword

by Amelia Wilson

  She was almost too afraid to do it, but she obeyed. He was standing there, nearly glowing in the power that emanated from his soul, his body perfect and unmarred. His chest was adorned with a new tattoo, a giant, stylized owl with wings that spread from one shoulder to the other, talons clutching two runes.

  She clung to him. Although their clothing had burned away, their skin was untouched, and they were complete.

  “How… what…”

  He did not answer. He bent down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She leaned into him, accepting him, and in her mind, she could hear him say, I choose you, now and forever. I choose you for all time. My love, my love… do you choose me?

  She said it aloud. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  He took her into his arms and held her tight. She embraced him and, overwhelmed by everything she had experienced, she collapsed.

  Chapter Sixteen – The Chosen

  Nika woke up suddenly in her own bed, lying in Erik’s arms. She sat up in confused disorientation and pressed a hand to her feverish brow.

  Was it all a dream?

  She looked at her sleeping lover, and the owl tattoo across his chest told her that it had all been real. She touched the two stones inked into his skin, reading the Elder Futhark runes that were written there. One was Uruz, the other Thurisaz.

  She identified the meanings of the runes. Masculine energy. Sexual potency. Regeneration.

  As she looked at him, she realized that she, too, had been marked by the sacred fire. Runes were tattooed into both of her inner arms, and she identified Perthro and Sowilo.

  Female mystical power. The sacred sword of fire. Protection from evil.

  Beside her, Erik opened his eyes. He looked up at her with such love on his face that she wanted to weep.

  He touched her cheek and smiled, and she went into his arms for a tight embrace. Everywhere her skin touched his, she felt a tingling of power, as if she was filled with mystical fire that burned brighter when he was near.

  “What happened? How did we get here? The last thing I remember, we were at the house, and everything had just burned up.”

  “We prevented the Draugr from raising Hakon,” he said simply, as if that explained it all.

  “But...” She touched the tattoos on his chest and on her arms. “I don’t understand. What is this?”

  He sat up and took her hands. “You remember me telling you about the old gods, how they could only continue for as long as they were melded with the souls of the Draugr. Right?”

  She nodded.

  “The gods with whom we were merged all those centuries ago rose up to help us, along with the All-Father.”

  “Odin.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He smiled. “You’re still trying too hard to think with a modern mind. Not everything makes rational sense. In the world, remember, there is as much of the spirit as of the physical. Mortal minds cannot measure both.”

  Beside the bed, leaning on the wall with its point in the carpet, the Rune Sword sat placidly. The Soul Stone was quiet and dull, no light shining in its depths. She looked at it in confusion, then back at him.

  “You, my darling, have taken a big step into a world you ever knew existed, but which has been waiting for you since you were reborn into this life.” He smiled. “Do you believe me when I say that I love you?”

  She smiled back, slowly. “Of course.”

  “Then believe me now when I say this: because you are Chosen, and because you have drunk the dreyri, you will never be the same.”

  Nika touched his arm, running her hands along the skin and the well-formed muscles beneath. He was distracting just by being there.

  “Am I truly a Draugr?”

  “Yes. You truly are.”

  She put her fingers to her teeth, but they felt no different than they had before. He chuckled.

  “Some changes haven’t taken hold yet, but they will do so as time goes on. The important thing is that your soul has been awakened, and the power that you have always had has been set free.” He pressed his hand to her chest, resting his palm above her heart. “You and I, Nika… we are meant to be. We are soulmates.”

  “This is all so hard to understand,” she said, shaking her head. Her scarlet hair fell over her shoulder, a curtain over her face that he brushed away, tucking it behind her ear.

  “You need understand only this: we are immortal, and you are my love, and the gods have blessed us.”

  She pulled him into her arms, kissing him. He bore her gently down to the mattress, rolling her onto her back and leaning over her, his hand still cupping her head.

  “I love you,” she told him. “You are my Chosen.”

  “You are my life,” he told her.

  Her moved closer, and they were soon entangled in one another again, their physical loving echoed by the pulsing power in their breasts. Their souls united even while their bodies connected, making love on two levels.

  As he moved within her, he breather, “You are my soul.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him as close as she could, giving herself to him, body, heart and spirit.

  Against the wall, the Rune Sword glowed.

  Epilogue

  The museum workers finished putting glass panel into place, once more sealing the pressurized chamber that held the Rune Sword in place. The ancient Viking weapon gleamed in the light of the pinpoint spotlights that illuminated the runes on its blade.

  “There,” the curator said, satisfied. “Safe and sound, back where it belongs.”

  The representative of the Royal Stockholm Museum nodded. “I’m very grateful that the sword was found in one piece.”

  “Your agent, Mr. Thorvald, had a great deal to do with that.”

  “Ah, yes,” the representative mused. “Mr. Thorvald. I shall have to find him to thank him personally.”

  “Oh, is he no longer in town, Mr.…?”

  “Sigurd,” the man replied.

  The curator admired the sword. “What do those runes say, anyway? My assistant used to read runes, but I’m afraid Latin is far more my style.”

  The Swede smiled, his narrow face an unlikely home for so friendly an expression. “It says ‘united forever.’ Strange, don’t you think, for an ornamental weapon intended for a burial?”

  “Well,” the curator said, “perhaps it has a spiritual significance.”

  They walked away together, the Swede folding his hands behind his back. A runic tattoo peeked out beneath his shirt cuff.

  “Most things do, my friend,” he said. “Most things do.”

  *****

  THE END

  About Next Book In Rune Series

  Rune Master

  Rune Series Book 2

  By:

  Amelia Wilson / J.A. Cummings

  Prologue

  Ingrid Nilsson knelt in her kitchen garden, pulling the weeds that grew around her herbs. On the other side of her stick fence, the hill ran down toward the rocky beach and the Baltic Sea, which glittered beneath the morning sun. The warming spring wind brought the scent of sea and salt to her nose, and she inhaled deeply.

  She had lived on this hill forever. Her little house was tiny, but it was all that she needed. It was sturdy enough to withstand winter storms, and it was cozy and just the right size for a retired goddess living alone.

  In centuries gone by, she had been called by another name, and the Norse had worshipped her in Uppsala and at hörgrs across Scandinavia. Then the Christians had come, the sacrifices ended, and there was nothing left for her to do but to meld with a human soul and consume Ithunn’s Apples of Life.

  The Vanir and the Aesir, the two tribes of Norse gods, had both chosen this uncomfortable way of continuing their immortality. The humans with whom they merged became the Draugr, continuing their lives by drinking the power in mortal blood. The Draugr were not truly immortal, though, not like the gods, and when they sometimes died, their souls went on to new
incarnations. She herself had been reborn eighteen times. Her mortal identity changed with each new birth, but deep inside, she always knew who she really was. She was Frigg.

  Now, though, she was content to live as Ingrid, the wise woman on the edge of Sweden, perched on a hill above the sea. She was the one to whom the Draugr came for advice, for she was the keeper of all wisdom and foreknowledge. She only spoke to whom she chose. Not everyone who petitioned for her aid was destined to receive it.

  She sat back, with her hands on her thighs, and took another deep breath of sea air. This time, there was a curdled edge to the smell of the water, as if some hapless fisherman had left his catch to rot in the belly of his ship. It was the sweet-sour stench of death and decay. She turned toward the water, her heart uneasy.

  At first, the bay looked calm and placid, rippled with tiny white caps and rolling beneath an untroubled sky. Then the clouds appeared in her mind’s eye, glowering and dark in the distance. There were flashes of lightning, far away but coming closer, and she was filled with a sense of impending dread. She shuddered and felt herself falling into the vision.

  There, on the horizon, was a drekar, one of the dragon boats of old. It was under full sail, headed rapidly toward the coast. She could see warriors on board, their heads just visible above the row of shields affixed to the sides. There was a single man standing near the figurehead, and she knew him immediately.

  Loki had returned.

  He and his warriors were bearing down on the coast, skimming over the water like a missile from Finland. Loki was standing in darkness, surrounded by a shifting cloud that revealed and concealed him at the same time. His men were just as shadowy, and she feared them all.

  The boat and its stench vanished as quickly as they had appeared. She rose, abandoning her simple chores. There was important work to be done.

  Chapter One

  Nika Graves stretched languidly, enjoying a slow morning. Beside her in their rumpled bed, Erik Thorvald, her exquisite lover, was still sleeping. He was many things, but he was not an early riser. She smiled to herself and scooted closer to him, molding herself to his side as her arm wrapped around his waist. She kissed his shoulder.

  “Morning,” she said softly.

  He made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan. She smiled more broadly and kissed him again.

  “Erik,” she cooed. “It’s morning. Wake up. Up and at ‘em.”

  He did not open his eyes, but the corner of his mouth curled upward.

  She ran her fingernails lightly over his skin, eliciting a shiver. “Are you awake?”

  Erik opened one eye to peek at her and then closed it again. “No.”

  Nika laughed and nipped him. He rolled over and grabbed her, pinning her in his arms and pulling her close. His blue eyes were bright when he spoke. “If you’re going to bite me, do it like you mean it.”

  She grinned and let her new vampire fangs come down. She snapped at him playfully. He flipped her over onto her back and straddled her, his own fangs pressing to her throat. At the last moment, just before his teeth penetrated her skin, he closed his lips and blew a loud raspberry.

  Nika squealed and squirmed in his grip, and Erik laughed, holding her tight. “That’s what you get for being a tease.”

  She stopped struggling and grinned up at him. “Mercy, great Huntsman. I am your prisoner.”

  He kissed her deeply, and she was all too happy to return the embrace. He rolled onto his side and lay beside her, and she snuggled in, her head on his chest. He stroked her flame-red hair, feeling utterly content.

  “Big day today,” he said.

  “Mm. Very.”

  The Viking exhibit at the museum where she worked as an assistant curator was ending. The artifacts, including the Rune Sword which had brought them together, were going to be packed up and sent back to Stockholm. Erik’s work in America would be over, and he would be going back to Sweden. She had been devastated when she’d heard the news. Now, however, she was happy; she was going with him.

  She was going to miss her museum and her friends in the city, but she was ready to move forward. Her life had changed completely in the short time she had known Erik and her old habits and the familiar places didn’t suit her any longer. She was eager for a change, and was excited to see where Erik would lead her; she would follow him anywhere.

  “The movers will be here at three to pack up the apartment,” he said. “That gives us a few hours before we have to get out of bed.”

  She chuckled. “Why, Mr. Thorvald, whatever are you suggesting?”

  He pulled her closer and kissed her tenderly, his lips barely grazing hers, just a tease of what was to come. His hand pressed gently against her flat stomach, then slid up to cup her breast. She put her arms around him and sighed happily.

  She loved the feeling of his body pressed against her, of the hardness that pushed against her thigh, of the softness of his hair and the heat of his caress. She reached down and touched the evidence of his desire, stroking it. He moaned softly in the back of his throat and shifted so that he was hovering above her on his hands and knees, one hand holding him up while the other continued to explore her body.

  He ran his fingers down her abdomen, slowly dragging them along her skin until he reached the welcoming moisture between her legs. She gasped when he touched her, electrified, her body tingling. She closed her eyes and arched into his touch, silently asking for more.

  He put his knee between hers and gently eased her legs farther apart. She opened for him willingly, her hand on his heat moving faster, her other arm pulling him closer. He looked into her eyes, and she saw a glimmer of the green Draugr light in their blue depths. It was enchanting.

  “Love me, Erik,” she whispered.

  He kissed her, this time hungrily, his mouth and tongue seizing possession of hers. He lowered himself down on top of her, sliding slowly inside of her. She moaned at the feeling, completely fulfilled, and he broke the kiss to throw his head back with a look of ecstasy on his face.

  She gripped his shoulders as he began to move, feeling the hard muscles shifting beneath his skin, thrilled by his strength and his masculine scent. She was his.

  He kissed her again, and then kissed his way down her jawline to the throbbing pulse point in her throat. His lips pressed against the vein, and she felt him harden even more inside of her. She brought a hand up to cup his head, burying her fingers in his golden hair, urging him to continue.

  His sharp teeth extended and slowly, gently slid into her flesh. She shuddered with delight and moaned. The feeling of his mouth and tongue, soft and insistent, coupled with the penetration of his teeth was the most erotic thing she had ever felt, and it sent her over the edge.

  He drank from her as she quaked in his arms, and her pleasure brought him to his climax. He trembled with the force of it, his eyes shut, his fangs still buried deep in her vein though he was no longer drinking. They stayed that way well into the afterglow, connected in every possible way. When he finally released his hold on her neck, he swiped his tongue over the wounds he’d left behind, healing them closed.

  She clung to him as he shifted to lie beside her. He kissed her sweetly, his eyes filled with love.

  Chosen, he said to her in her mind.

  She smiled and responded with a telepathic voice of her own.

  Chosen.

  ***

  They were dressed and presentable by the time the movers arrived. The apartment was small and there were several people trying to pack up her belongings, so they needed to get out of the way. They went to the museum one last time.

  The special gallery was still closed for repairs, but the exhibit itself had been moved to a side gallery, replacing the usual display. The replica dragon boat figureheads flanking the entrance were standing guard over the new location, and the last tour group was just heading inside. It was the last chance to see the archaeological wonders, rescued from their long rest in a Viking chieftain’s grave.

 
Well… that was the story, anyway. What the public didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

  They walked hand-in-hand through the display, following the boat-shaped path that was laid out on the floor. The path took them past ancient textiles, jewelry and pottery, ultimately leading to the main attraction, the Rune Sword.

  The sword stood in its special case once again, quiet in the pinpoint spotlights the museum was using to highlight the runes etched into the blade. The ancient Norse markings were once again a mish-mash of meanings, saying nothing at all. The days of messages on the blade had come to an end.

  Nika stood before the case and looked up at the Sálsteinn, the soul stone, set into the cross piece of the hilt. It was dull and lifeless, emptied of its dangerous cargo.

  “Hardly looks like the same weapon, does it?” Erik asked, his own gaze on the stone.

  “No, not really.” She leaned into him. “Hard to believe.”

  He smiled. “What a difference a few weeks make, eh?”

  It was dizzying when she thought about it. Less than a month ago, the Draugr, ancient Norse vampires, had attacked the exhibit and stolen the sword. The Soul Stone had once housed the soul of their fallen leader, and they were trying to get him back. Nika and Erik had found themselves united in stopping them, and in the process, they had encountered death and eternal life.

  The public had been told that a group of daring thieves, led by the former curator from Stockholm, Astrid Sigurdsdottir, had cut through the floor and ceiling in broad daylight to steal the priceless artifact. Erik and his Special Forces unit were credited with recovering the sword, and Astrid was wanted as a fugitive. His brothers in arms had died as heroes.

  Nika and Erik knew the truth. Astrid was no fugitive. She and the rest of the Draugr who had tried to resurrect their leader with dark magic had been destroyed. The authorities could search until the end of time, but they would never be found.