The Codex Lacrimae: The Book of Tears

Chapter 7: Ripples and Tasks at the Well of the Worlds

Drifting.

Ibn-Khaldun found himself on the grassy floor of a subterranean grotto, overwhelmed by the sound of a woman screaming in fury. A compression of air followed the outburst, and a detonation exploded in the underground chamber, making the old man's ears throb painfully. Vermilion flames flared from a wide underground pool, reaching almost to a stalactite-ridden ceiling. He lowered his forearm as the dazzling iridescence faded and gasped at what he saw.

His adopted son, Marcus, wrestled with two women near an enormous pool of blazing water, the boy's Hospitaller robe in tatters and begrimed with soil and blood. A gigantic wolf repeatedly attacked Marcus, leaping and lunging at every opportunity, but getting batted away each time with unbelievable strength by the teenager. He flung the women off him, and they stumbled backwards and disappeared in a flash of white at the edge of the pool.

Another woman, scantily clad in a leather hunter's outfit, slashed and hacked at Marcus, but his sword deflected every strike, and he succeededin knocking her backwards into the flaming pool as well. She disappeared in a blaze of light, and the wolf hesitated, sniffing at the water's edge before lunging again at the boy. Then the wolf also vanished in a flash of rainbow colors, and Marcus strode forward, looking this way and that for the woman and wolf.

Ibn-Khaldun stood aside, trying to digest what he saw and failing. As with the vision of Hel, this made no sense to him, even though he knew he saw something of great importance concerning the Codex Lacrimae.

A fell, emerald-and-orange glistering heat radiated from Marcus's, upraised, hand. "Bring them back!" the boy screamed.

Near the shoreline, the head of a young man hovered above the lake, its pale features and blond hair wreathed in white fire that shifted into the colors of the rainbow.

Marcus shouted in frustration, his sword erupting with the same emerald and orange fire as his hand, and he leapt forward to slash at the floating head. The tip of Marcus's blade passed through the face in a flash of luminous emerald, and he stumbled forward into the prismatic lake.

Now, Master Khajen ibn-Khaldun, while he stumbles, push Morpeth into the lake. I can't hold him much longer.

The voice trumpeted in Ibn-Khaldun's mind and he followed its command. He hadn't been a soldier for close to forty years, but he leapt at Morpeth, forcing himself to forget that the creature looked exactly like Marcus. The impact felt like striking a tree, but his effort made his adversary continue his stumble into the shallows. Orange light flared and Ibn-Khaldun shielded his eyes. Morpeth vanished in a sudden detonation of flames.

The glowing waters changed color to white, and returned to knee-high, flickering flames illuminating the cavern like the light of the sun.

I'm obliged, Khajen ibn-Khaldun. He's gone, returned to Midgard whence he came.Mimir's discorporate head appeared above the pool as he spoke. At this proximity, Ibn-Khaldun could see that the man's features appeared to be less than two decades in age, white-skinned, with golden hair that streamed to where his shoulders would have been had he a body.

"Who are you?" Ibn-Khaldun asked.

I am Mimir, known to some as Seer of the Gods and Guardian of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. I am the companion of the Norns and safe keeper of Odin's Wyrd. The voice rang clearly in Ibn-Khaldun's mind, pure and gifted with a strong, confident resonance. You are Khajen ibn-Khaldun, whom the Christian chroniclers of your world will call the friend of Servius Aurelius Santini, but whom we of the Aesir revere as Bearer of the Codex Lacrimae and protector of the Santini line for centuries. Your son, Thaqib, was supposed to be this generation's host for Palomides, whose confrontation with the Questing Beast killed his body, but preserved his soul in an amulet.