Page 44 of The Fanged One

Von made a sound that was half a sob and half a laugh, already wiping at his face with the back of his wrist. "Oh, thank Odin. Linnea, Layla, get a notebook each to start writing so I can leave a copy here and take one with us if we need to."

"Wait, I'm going to need more coffee and some food before we start this. My brain is still asleep," Ciara said, already getting up.

"I need a beer," Tor grumbled.

"I'll have another coffee too, please," Von said, not moving from his pile of cushions. "Black and stronger than my grandfather's opinions, thank you."

"Sure thing, princess." Tor patted him on the head. "You just stay comfortable."

Fenris grinned at his sarcasm, but Von didn't seem to notice. He turned back to the little book and thumbed through a few pages. It wasn't like the other decorated manuscripts he had seen earlier in the day. It was more like a messy little private journal that had somehow been preserved. He was feeling more confident, understanding the words by the time everyone came back from the kitchen.

Linnea set a glass of water and a cup of coffee beside him. "I didn't know what you would like."

"I… Thank you," Fenris replied with a smile. Her cheeks flushed a little, and she sat back down beside him. She opened a leather notebook and took a pen from the table. Layla had taken the other couch with a spiral pad and a pen she had been chewing on. Arne draped an arm around her shoulders and looked ready to fall asleep again.

"Begin when you are ready, Fenris. I'm ready and listening," Von said, pulling a blanket up to his chin.

Fenris cleared his throat and turned back to the first page. He didn't read the Latin, but he did read the transcription paper that Von had done.

"Written in the year of our Lord, by my own hand, Brother Eyvindr of the X monastery on the cold edge of the bay. May God have mercy on what I have written here, and not strike me for the keeping of it..."

Across the room, Von's mouth moved silently, mouthing the words a half-beat behind him. Fenris smiled at the shaman's enthusiasm and read on.

"In the winter of the year before, a wanderer came to my door…"

In the winter of the year before, a wanderer came to my door. He was tall, and his cloak was the color of storms. One eye of his was bright as a coin, and the other was hidden under the brim of his hat. He asked for shelter. I gave him bread and a place by my fire.

He thanked me, and he said: Brother, I will tell you a story, and you will write it down, and you will hide it where the wise will find it and the foolish will not. Do this for me, and I will leave you with a small blessing.

I agreed because it seemed like a strange but a simple request.

This is the story the wanderer told:

"I journeyed once into the realm of mists. I went down into the cold places under the world, past the roots of the great tree. I came at last to a hall built of black stone and wood, and at its door stood a woman who was beautiful on one side of her face and terrible on the other. She was the goddess of the dead, the keeper of the lost, the strongest of the judges, the queen of the corpse-shores. She greeted me by my own name, though I had not given it to her.

“She let me into her hall and poured me wine, and we spoke long of the worlds above. I poured out for her the mead of poets, and it pleased her.

“She said, ‘Wanderer, because you have pleased me, I will tell you of a great treasure that lies in the deepest path of my realm. I will let you try for it, if you wish. Many have tried. Few have lived. Most have left their wits behind them. Will you try?’

“I said yes.

“She told me of the treasure. She said, 'It is a power that walks on no feet and runs on all. It is wealth that empties and never lessens. It is the mare that bore the swift one. It is the salmon's tail that escaped the net. It is the falcon's wing that crossed Jötunheim. It is the seal that wrestled the necklace from the deep. It is the mother that births monsters and the father that loves them. It is the brother bound by oath to the brother who wears the cloak of crows. It is the voice that lies the world into being and the silence that holds the world together when nothing else will. It is the one who walks in fire and the one who weeps in iron. Find it if you can.'

“No coward am I, and I agreed to fill my luck cup with the treasure she promised. I went down into her trials.

“I came first to the river of swords, where I could not cross with strength, so I crossed with a song's feet.

“I came second to the still pools where the dead wore faces of loved ones. Though they called to me, I did not step into the water.

“I came third to the bridge where the gatekeeper asked me to name what I truly sought. I answered her with the truth as far as I knew it, and the bridge held.

“I came fourth to the hall where what was sat at the tables and what was offered to me was what I had not been brave enough to remember. I sat with them, and I let myself remember the heart griefs in my chest.

“I came fifth to the place where the great serpent gnawed at the lowest root, and I paid the tithe that was asked of me, and I lost something I will not name.

“And I came to the last door. I was asked to give what I could not give. The price was too high. I refused. The goddess of the dead came to me herself and smiled at me, and she said, 'You are wise, wanderer, but wisdom is not always courage. Go home. I send you back to the land of the living. My realm is closed to you now in this life. You shall not pass this door again.'

“I woke in the living lands, under the sky's cold lantern, and I have not been the same since."