The Codex Lacrimae: The Book of Tears

Chapter 19: The Fjords of Asgard

The flaming waters of Mimir's Well and carnage-filled grotto disappeared along with the rainbow colors of the runeporte. Still soaked from the waters of the pool, Clarinda and Aurelius were in a rocky terrain. They knelt above ground on a road paved with dwarvish designs that sloped upward to a craggy ridge beneath a cloud-covered sky.

They rose to their feet, Aurelius hastily, as if he expected to rejoin the battle against Morpeth. Clarinda took her time, wincing at the jabs of pain in her shoulders from the backlash of energies that Morpeth had sent along the staff. There'd be no return to the fight; they'd been translocated from Jotunheim to another of the Nine Worlds.

"We're near the Fjords of Asgard," she said, leaning wearily on the quarterstaff.

Aurelius stopped trying to angrily wrench the braces off his forearms and scowled.

"How can you tell?"

"Besides the fact that Mimir told us he was sending us here," she nodded at something behind him, "there's a sign right there that says so."

He followed her gaze to the small shingle nailed to a post at the top of the broad road.

A single rune symbolizing the Norse word for 'fjord' had been burned into the sign.

Heavy, pressure-laden air, indicated the imminence of a hellacious storm. Charcoal-colored clouds sparked lightning, flashing on the slate-colored boulders and ashen ground. "It's going to rain any moment," Clarinda said, still leaning on her staff while she watched his renewed efforts with the armored braces. "But, hei, since our clothes are already wet ..."

She frowned, realizing what he was doing and disapproving. "That seems like a complete waste of time, Santini. If those arm-guards didn't come off after—cosa?—twenty tugs, I don't think they're coming off. Leastways, not until you put some finality into your dealings with the Codex."

"I'm ... so ... tired ... of doing ... umph! Oh, buon Dio!" He gave two final, disgusted twists and shook his head, an action that obviously hurt, because he winced and rubbed his temple.

"Tired of what? Having temper tantrums? Or, tired of listening to common sense?"

He glared at her and snapped, "No! I've got plenty of common sense, and I'm not having a temper tantrum! It's not as if you've got that much sense. We should've stayed and fought Morpeth. I could've taken him—found an opening and just attacked. I'm sick of running, and I did fine for years on my own. Before I saw Huntsmen, the Codex, or you!"

"I can tell," she retorted, her exhaustion stretching her patience. Who did he think he was? He still didn't know half the story that she'd learned about the dangers to the Nine Worlds, and he talked about fighting a Huntsman who'd attacked Mimir—Mimir!—as if it were some kind of chance for fencing practice!

"You've really got a serene grip on that temper, don't you? Some priest-in-training. All you Crusaders are the same—prayerful until somebody crosses your path. Hypocrites. Talking of peace while stabbing and killing. I bet you'd slam your friends' heads into pews if they were talking too loudly while you're praying in church!"

That image brought him back to himself. "Cosa?"he smiled. "What'd you just say? Una cosa stupida!"

"Non così stupidi come ti comporti!" She gave him a vulgar sailing gesture.

"I'm not acting stupid," he protested, still irritated, "and if a guy made that sign at me back at the Krak, we'd settle it in the yards."

"Vieni, Santini." She took a defensive stance with the staff and beckoned with her free hand. "I'm serious. Come on. Don't let my being a girl stop you. I'm betting I can control Gungnir a lot better than you can the Codex, and we've both taken on these Huntsmen." She paused, remembering the dead birds, but continued to stare hard at him even as she swallowed hard. "So do you want to keep going with this, or should we take a rest?"