The Nine Worlds of medieval times are threatened by threats from Norse and Gaelic mythology, and only the teenagers -- the Venetian mariner's daughter, Clarinda, and Hospitaller knight, Ríg -- can prevent the return of the darkest of the Artifacts o...
Clarinda said nothing, astonished that the woman knew what she'd been dreaming for the past couple of months.
"Your plan to find your father has merit because it will carry you eastward across the Great Sea. Angelo Trevisan is no longer in Constantinople, but in Caesarea. South and east from here lay the lands where you must go, where even now the Codex Lacrimae will soon confront its potential master. Gain your ship with the help of the Stratioticus children, and take the warrior-born, Alexander, with you. My sister has traced a thread where he may serve you well, if not without some frustration on his part. I must warn you now, though—even if you reach Caesarea, hope not for your father. Live not for him, but for your Fate yet to be. Yggdrassil's roots run deep, Bambina, and sisters you now have who will help you."
"How can you say such a thing?" Clarinda asked, horrified. "I'll find him ... my entire reason for getting out of this city is to find him."
"Unfortunately, Angelo Trevisan's greed brought him into Nightmare's orbit. There's naught we can do for him."
"I won't believe that! I can't."
"Believe what you will, sister," Urd sighed, "but, you will stop protesting every sentence I speak, and listen to me." The woman's eyes fixed on Clarinda's and the girl stepped backward. Irritated, she resisted the impulse to keep retreating.
"You ... you pushed me!" She glared. How had the woman moved her with only her voice?
"And you stopped yourself," Urd smiled slightly. "There are few in the worlds who can resist a Norn's voice. It seems my dreams and Skuld's predictions prove out, after all."
"I'll not hear any more about my father dying."
"Then find him strung up in a galley of dead men!" Urd retorted. "The matters of which I speak go beyond Angelo Trevisan's poor choices, Clarinda. I speak of artifacts lost that are now found, of witches undone who are now remade, and allies betrayed who march to war."
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
The woman caressed Clarinda's cheek. "I may be able to speak more clearly after Caesarea, but to do so ere that time might be to forewarn our enemies. I can say this: enlist the aid of the Codex Wielder to destroy the caskets at the Krak des Chevaliers. If you do so, Morpeth and Farbauti will be much hindered in their efforts on this world, and Surtur delayed long enough for your training to be completed. Do not underestimate them, nor the machinations and traps that they've set in place to retrieve the Codex Lacrimae."
"Clarinda?" Genevieve's voice broke the silence that followed the woman's last statement. Clarinda knew her friend stood near the western portals, but stayed focused on the stranger.
"We are Urd, Clarinda. Tu ed io, ora e per sempre. You and I, now and forever." The woman clasped the merchant daughter's hands tightly. "Be brave. Follow your plan and travel to Caesarea. During your journey, we shall meet again. My sisters and I— le nostre sorelle— our sisters, we will train and prepare you along the way."
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