The Codex Lacrimae, Part 3: The Book of Tears

Chapter 15: The Singing Sword of Arngrim

Ríg swung the sword at Kullervo. Surprisingly, the blade yanked him past the thin figure as a nimbus of powerful energies enveloped the young Hospitaller and rushed him not at the madman but headlong toward Skuld! Horrified, he tried to release his hand and screamed, "No, stop! Not her—him! You have to kill Kullervo!"

The Norns and Mimir are enemies of the Codices, Aurelius, the Codex Lacrimae cried, its voice in frenzy, they suffer no rivals, nor shall I!

Arngrim's point plunged to the hilt beneath Skuld's breastbone, the blade completely transfixing her.

"Fatima!" Ríg shouted, his grief piercing as the horrific song of Arngrim filled his mind—a cacophony of clanging bells and twanging harp strings, and the twisted counterpoint of thousands of screaming voices.

He tried to focus against the noise, unable to reconcile his five years of knowing Fatima with the impaled woman before him. No matter what suspicions he'd had about Skuld, he hadn't wanted the Norn to die. Not Fatima, who'd been like an older sister to him for the last five years.

Skuld gasped and buckled backward, dropping the staff as she gripped the blade with both hands and tried with scrambling hands to pull it from her body. The brown skin of her features stretched taut in agony as her eyes widened in disbelief and death.

Kullervo stumbled toward him with fingers clawing to reach the squire's throat, but Ríg withdrew the sword from Skuld and slashed backward. Arngrim's bloodied point cut across Kullervo's abdomen. The Hospitaller continued spinning, rose to his feet, and drove forward to stab the blade deeply into Kullervo's torso.

"I get to kill the Norn, not you," Kullervo screamed in frustration. He pushed himself backward, away from the enraged youth and the Singing Sword, and looked down at his gored body, watching in wonder as a molten orange glow sealed the slash and puncture.

The magical transformation of his skin wasn't limited to the wounds. Kullervo's form glowed with a heat that seemed hotter than that cast by many forges.

"My father, my father," Skuld groaned, "you've slain me by setting these events into motion. I've just found you, and you've slain me."

"Father?" Kullervo chuckled, warily watching for an opening through which he could attack Ríg while the boy stared helplessly down at her and then back to him. "Ja, dein Vater. I'm remembering, Skuld. The madness, it's passing." He checked Ríg and backed toward the forge, raising a cautionary hand to halt the advancing dwarf. "I tried to kill you three girls when I discovered you in your mother's cradles—fled to Mimir, she did, and then I was banished from Muspelheim for dallying with that damn wench!"

"Fatima, I'm sorry — oh God, this can't be happening!" Ríg said, trying to speak over the voices of the song in his head. "I don't know what happened, I wanted to strike him."

Skuld gasped at Kullervo. "We searched so long for you, this cannot be. Urd, Verdandi. Hah, and I was always the 'warrior' of us three ..." She looked back from Kullervo's burning form and fixed Ríg with a stare. "See how easily I die, Codex Wielder? Perhaps your passing will be more merciful." She groaned and slumped further against the base of the tree. "I cannot see. There's mercy in your eyes — I didn't expect that, not from one so adept at killing. I see now, possibly, what Clarinda sees in you. Beware of the Huntsmen, Servius, and when the dragon comes, his words may bring both ruin and salvation."

"Clarinda?" Ríg said; the name sounded familiar and strange at the same time. But he didn't have time for more mysteries. Ibn-Khaldun's daughter was dying. He knelt beside her. "Fatima, I'm sorry."