The Codex Lacrimae

by A. J. Carlisle

  In a quickly sketched tale, Clarinda told of all that had happened since they parted; the encounters with the fossegrim, strömkarlen, and nixies, the discovery that Old Nick was Evremar of Choques, Aurelius’s freeing of Hav by saying his true name, and the essentials of their journey through Hel until the wolf took Aurelius through a window. Omitting only the sighting of Ratatosk and his help in finding the exit door, Clarinda finished the story by again sharing her suspicion that the Codex Lacrimae was somehow interfering with the magic of the Brisingamen, and that when she was alone she believed that the necklace would work in Santini’s absence.

  “I guessed correctly,” Clarinda finished, “and I trusted in all that you’ve been telling me for the last three months.”

  “Hela’s risked transgressing the ancient protocols in this,” Skuld said. “Even allying herself with the Great Adversary seems an unusual move.”

  “Many forces seem to be trying to get to Santini before the Codex fully awakens,” Urd agreed, “and if she’d been successful in keeping him in Hel, she must have thought that the risk of letting Abbadon run loose in the Nine Worlds was worth it.”

  “Santini is the Codex Lacrimae, isn’t he?” Clarinda asked all the women, finally voicing the guess she’d been quietly forming. “I mean, there’s nothing on him except his weapons and a hatchet — no satchel to hold a book and,” she indicated with both hands his robe she still wore, “nothing in the inner pockets of this cloak. He doesn’t have the Codex with him, but everybody seems to sense that he has its magic.”

  The Norns looked at each other. Urd finally said, “Yes, and no.”

  “What?” Clarinda’s frustration was real. “I need something clearer than that. If I can’t get the Brisinga necklace to work the next time I’m around him, there might not be a wolf to rescue him.”

  “Fenris is with him now,” Urd said, looking downward momentarily as she used her Sight, “along with his mate, Skade the Huntress. They battle the Wilde Jagd in Niflheim.”

  “Then I should get there,” Clarinda said, “but first I need to know about this. What do you mean, ‘yes, and no’ about Santini being the Codex?”

  “I mean that, ‘yes,’ he is the Codex, but ‘no’ in the sense that the magic still exists apart from him. The Codices — I mean, the Codex, is part of a…,” for once Urd seemed speechless. She began again. “The Codex Lacrimae has a peculiar nature, the most beguiling of which is the glamour that it can project.”

  “Glamour — you mean an enchantment?” Clarinda asked.

  The Norn nodded. “At need, it can disguise itself — it may be doing so even now, so when we say, ‘yes and no’ about Santini being the Codex, we really don’t know. What I’m certain of, though, is that currently its true form is on Midgard — a physical book — and that form will govern how it’s used until he accepts the price for wielding it.”

  “Price?”

  “The inscription in the frontispiece reads ‘the life of a friend.’ I think that’s a cruel joke written by one of its authors, but also a key to its nature in so many ways.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clarinda said, “and this isn’t helping me learn to use the Brisinga necklace when I’m around him.”

  “We will help him,” Verdandi insisted, “but not in the way we originally planned.” She glanced at Urd and Skuld before continuing. “You must find him and bring him back to us, Clarinda. Bring him back to Mimir.”

  “How?”

  “The Brisinga necklace will get you close to him,” Verdandi predicted, “but you’re correct — ultimately, it will fail until...”

  “Until what?”

  “Until I die,” Urd said simply. “The necklaces are gifts from Odin, so they’ll work throughout the Nine Worlds, regardless of other magics like the Codex Larimae that might try to work against them. Your problem with transporting around Santini isn’t him, it’s the fact that you’re using my necklace and I’m still connected to it.” She shrugged. “There will be unpredictability with it around Santini until I die. We’re too many Norns right now, and the magic isn’t meant to be shared.”

  “Then,” Clarinda said, thinking quickly, “you take it! You go find Santini and bring him back here.” She glanced around the grotto. “I can study and rest while you do it. To tell you the truth, the sight of Evremar made me sick. I need to find a way to defeat him, and perhaps the answers are in this library.”

  Urd shook her head even before the Venetian girl finished speaking.

  “It’s admirable that you think you can defeat Satan,” the Norn of Fate said, “but, I’ve told you before. This has all been prophesied. It wasn’t the Codex Lacrimae that compelled Skuld, Verdandi, and me to leave your side in Alfheim, Clarinda.”

  “What, or who, then? Old Nick? Or Hela?” Clarinda posed.

  This time it was Skuld’s turn to shake her head. “No, Dear, their attack on you in Hel was surprising, but remained on mortal terms set by the way Hela manifested her domain to you and Santini.”

  “But, the tower seemed the same as it had been when Urd and I toured the Nine Worlds together.”

  “The citadel and tower rarely change — Hela must stay consistent with the charge given her in the Elder Days. The same with Abbadon.”

  “Less so with him,” Urd disagreed, “but, Clarinda, what we’re trying to tell you is that neither Hela nor the fossegrim could rip the three Norns out of space and time and cast us back here. Abbadon...Satan might be able to, but we would’ve felt his presence in the magic if it were him.”

  “Someone else, then?” Clarinda asked. “Who?”

  “After the dispatching of Dietrich the Mad and Veröld Matröđ in the Elder Days, there are few remaining in the Nine Worlds who could do so,” Urd said. “Any of the Asgardians, of course: Odin, Heimdall, Freya...even Mimir could do it, if he were so inclined.”

  “But, that doesn’t make sense,” Clarinda protested, “he sent us to help Santini.”

  “Even Mimir plays tricks sometimes,” Verdandi said, “and he’s taken a personal interest in this matter from the beginning. Leaving you to fight these things alone might have been another test for you.”

  “We’ve avoided talking about the creators of the Codex Lacrimae,” Skuld added. “One of them, too, could have interfered. Didn’t you say that Volund was in Alfheim? Tied to a tree by Old Nick? That seems to be no small coincidence.”

  “Volund was in Alfheim,” Urd agreed, but then added emphatically, “but, the most important author is bound in prison. Skuld, what are you doing? We’ve agreed not to discuss this.”

  “Wait, why not?” Clarinda asked. “That’s the biggest mystery to me — I mean, besides the question of how the Codex is and isn’t Santini.” She waved at the books and manuscripts in the grotto. “All the sources you’ve given me are vague about the moment of its actual creation, and none of the scribes state clearly who the author is.” She looked at Skuld. “You just said ‘creators,’ which means there’s more than one?”

  “Legends, myths, lies, and half-truths surround that time,” Urd said, “with a variety of arch-mages, elves, dark elves, druids, and even demigods taking credit when anyone will give them half a listen.”

  “But, you... we know the truth?” Clarinda pressed. It was inconceivable to her that the Norns would remain in the dark about a talisman of such reputed power as the Codex Lacrimae.

  “We suspect, nothing more,” Urd clarified. “As with the power of names, the main strength of a work like the Codex lies in the secret of...well, literally in this case, the secrets that went into its binding.”

  “We do know certain things...facts about it,” Verdandi said, “and from those we can make educated guesses.”

  “But,” Clarinda protested, disbelieving that there wasn’t a definite answer, “surely Mimir knows!”

  The Norns glanced at each other, the momentary silence that fell between them filling the entire grotto.

  “He knows,” Urd finally said, “but, he won’t sp
eak of it until the Codex is before him.”

  “Why?” Clarinda blinked. “Isn’t that all you four do — ‘oversee the Fate of the Nine Worlds.’ How can you not talk about something like this? How can you not plan for it?”

  She retrieved her quarterstaff and turned to the three seated women.

  “How do I find him again?” she asked, “and if I can’t use the Brisinga necklace when I’m with him — nor trust that he can use the Codex to bring us here — how do I get him back here so we can protect him?”

  “You sound angry, Clarinda.” Urd observed.

  “I am angry, Urd!” She waved the quarterstaff at them. “You’re all so...so resigned to all of this. You, to dying — we haven’t even made a plan for Morpeth and it sounds as if he was the reason Santini got sent here to begin with.” She looked directly into Urd’s grey eyes. “He’s going to come for you soon, you know. Even I’m starting to feel the shifting tides.” She included the remaining sisters in her gaze. “And then there’s all of you getting snatched away and not trying to find out who did it so we could take the fight to them — who’s to say it wasn’t Old Nick, after all? The Devil’s certainly been known to play fast and loose with the ancient covenants.”

  “It’s not that we’re uncaring,” the youthful Verdandi replied, “but, unlike many of our enemies, our strength lies in adhering to the rules and roles we’ve been given to play.”

  “Urd’s going to die because of that kind of attitude!” Clarinda shouted. “Why don’t you use a rune gate, transport to Midgard, grab Morpeth, and then drop him into the deepest abyss in Hel?”

  That’s exactly what I recommend doing, after you get the caskets to Santini at the Krak des Chevaliers, a dry, calming voice said.

  All the Norns listened as Mimir continued to speak in the their minds, but only Clarinda turned in the direction of the tunnel entrance that led to his section of the grottoes.

  Urd, I would speak with you and Clarinda.

  The two women responded to the calm male voice of Mimir’s call, leaving Skuld and Verdandi at the table. Clarinda hastened up the runneled limestone ramp, eager to have words with Mimir about everything that the women had just been discussing.

  The Seer was often absent from his pool, observing the activities in the Nine Worlds in ways that were still mysterious to Clarinda even after training here for a quarter of a year. A direct summons, however, meant that Mimir intended to appear physically at the base of Mount Glittertind. Granted, he’d still be a bodiless head floating above a flaming underground lagoon, but his presence always brought with it enhanced Sight for the Norns as wells as a chance to answer any questions that were beyond the ken of the Sisters of Fate.

  She’d passed through the middle grottoes of the cavern complex and came to the fern-lined walkway that led to the Great Well of Destiny. The Norns had told her that the dwarves and giants had installed a series of mirrors and glass panels when they’d built the caverns, the devices placed within mountain chutes that brought light from the world outside.

  “Hold, Clarinda,” Urd said behind her.

  The girl slowed and waited for the Norn at the bridge that opened onto the Great Well.

  “You can’t be this angry when you speak with him,” Urd cautioned.

  “Why not?” Clarinda flared. She was still irritated with her mentor! “Maybe some anger is what’s needed around here instead of all this calmness about everything!”

  “Nothing can bring your father back, Clarinda,” Urd said, “and now you know why we were powerless to interfere.”

  “He made a deal with the Devil,” Clarinda answered grimly. “It didn’t matter that the intermediaries were Farbauti or Morpeth back in Venice, or that Satan was playing around in the Levant as Evremar of Choques. Padre signed the commission for transporting those caskets, and knowing Old Nick, the Huntsmen probably had him sign it in blood.”

  Urd nodded. “They left nails exposed under the table where they sat in the inn. Angelo cut himself almost immediately, and the wound dripped on the parchment when he signed the contract. We could do nothing once he agreed.”

  “That seems like a trick,” Clarinda said, still seeking any loophole.

  “It would’ve been, if Angelo hadn’t completely and of his free will took all the money they offered him, and not known the conditions of the transport. They told your father that Evremar wasn’t the man everyone thought he was, and, specifically, that transporting the caskets was illegal under every law known to man and heaven.”

  Tears flooded Clarinda’s eyes, the fury at the Norns, Mimir, Santini, and all the rest coming full circle to rest on her father.

  Padre, you were a fool. I love you, but you were a fool!

  “Would you have come for me if he hadn’t taken the money? If he hadn’t accepted the commission for the transport of those caskets?”

  Urd was quiet, thinking, and then spoke. “Yes. The trap laid for Santini by Morpeth and Farbauti was as complex as the Codex Lacrimae is mysterious. Your role — that is, my death, and your assumption of my role — it...it was foreordained the moment Farbauti and Morpeth were enlisted by someone in this foul game.”

  “Why, Urd? You’re a Norn — even Old Nick said that if I were fully trained he couldn’t touch me. Why will Morpeth be able to slay you?”

  “They’re from Muspelheim, the fire world.” Urd replied. “None are safe from the demons there because they were bound into the Lava Seas and Obsidian Lands at the beginning of the worlds.”

  “You’ve not taken me there yet,” Clarinda observed.

  “I won’t, either, Child. We can’t. Muspelheim is ruled by Surt, the Fire Giant of the Blazing Sword — the one who’ll set Creation aflame in the Final Twilight.”

  “I thought Mimir’s Well...the Norn Grottoes...all this —” Clarinda waved her hands at the subterranean complex, “I thought safeguarding the Nine Worlds meant that we go to all of them.”

  “Not Muspelheim. Surt and his legions rage against the boundaries there, ever looking for a way back to this side of Creation. They are Elder Powers and it took the combined might of the Aesir, Vanir, and all the races to help Odin trap him there eons past.” Urd paled, not as nonchalant about her imminent danger as she usually was around the other Norns. “It used to be said that to have one Son of Muspell loose in the Nine World would be a nightmare.” She looked directly at Clarinda. “In Farbauti and Morpeth, we have two: a catastrophe.”

  “But, they were coming from the Far East — you said that they were forcing Khajen ibn-Khaldun to return to the Krak des Chevaliers after he got the Codex near the Himalayas.”

  “Yes, and your father was bringing the caskets to Evremar from the West — do you see now how both forces were converging upon Santini? We don’t know much about their magic — no one thought Sons of Muspell could breach the Wall without cracking the foundations of creation — but it seems as if the Huntsmen need their physical forms to act with full powers in whichever of the Nine Worlds they work.”

  Clarinda shook her head. “I just learned that Satan played ‘Uncle Servius’ to Santini over five years ago. Are you saying that he and Hela somehow drove him to the Holy Land when he was living in Sicily so that he’d be in the area where the Codex was — or, where it would be — some five years later? Did Old Nick free Farbauti and Morpeth?”

  “Perhaps,” Urd said, “but I’m of the belief that there’s something else at work here, Clarinda. Someone who’s organizing events and manipulating people at a level I’ve not seen since Loki roamed the Nine Worlds.”

  “Loki? The trickster god?”

  “Yes, but he’s still bound at the deepest level of Mount Glittertind. My sisters and I’ve been checking regularly on him since all this began, and he’s still where Odin left him, tied to a rock until the end of time.”

  “Why would he have anything to do with this if he were free?” Clarinda asked.

  “Clarinda — Mimir interrupted us and you were too angry to let us finish, but yo
u heard correctly when we said that there was more than one author of the Codex Lacrimae.” She paused, and Clarinda kept looking at her expectantly even though she saw Ratatosk moving furtively on a ledge not far behind them. The squirrel obviously intended on listening, too.

  “We’ve known that Volund, the Dark Elf, was one of those creators. Except for Dietrich the Mad, Volund was one of the rare Great Mages who could manipulate the kinds of magic needed to create the Codex.”

  “Volund?” Clarinda exclaimed. “Wasn’t that the elf who Old Nick and the fossegrim captured? He was tied to a tree as their prisoner when Hav brought us to the glade.”

  Urd nodded. “That makes sense. Old Nick must have been trying to get information from the Dark Elf about the Codex Lacrimae when you two came along and interrupted him.” She took a deep breath. “As for the other ‘author’ of the Codex, we suspect that Loki played a crucial role in making the book before being captured by Thor and imprisoned by Odin after the death of Balder.”

  Clarinda and Urd, Mimir’s voice sounded in their minds, some haste, please. The girl needs to get to Niflheim.

  “Let’s go,” Urd said, moving off the bridge. “This mystery has been consuming us for years. I don’t think that you’re going to solve it in the next few moments.”

  Clarinda followed, her thoughts roiling as they descended to meet the Seer of Fate.

  Chapter 8

  Reunion in Niflheim

  In less than an hour after the council with Mimir — and within moments of the Seer’s dismissal of her from his grotto — Clarinda used the Brisinga necklace and appeared at the edge of the Haunted Woods of Niflheim.

  Snow fell steadily on the permafrosted moorlands where she stood, forming a chalky and half-frozen rime that rose in places as high as her thighs. She pushed the Brisinga back into her tunic, and pulled the cloak that Grimnir had given her closer to her body, feeling the cold start to penetrate as its bony fingers tried to pry past the protection of her gloves and boots.