Chapter 13 #2
“Ugh,” Ezra lamented, grinning, but he took up the challenge. “Making me exercise my degree! I’ll have you know my degree was not specific to Nordic countries and cultures, good sir, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“I have faith,” Raum replied, winking.
Ezra blushed and lifted his chin, accepting the challenge in those whiskey-colored eyes.
“There was an ancient Nordic king named Raum the Old, and his name meant big and ugly, and he was one of the founding figures of a long line of rulers in Norway who had many adventures.” He paused.
“That’s about all I recall. There is the Víkingssonar Saga by Thornstein, in which Raum features.
He was a son of Nórr, the eponymous founder of Norway, and Raum’s descendants number in the dozens, many of them famous of their own accord. ”
Raum nodded, and took up the tale. “He had a son named Brand, which meant sword, and the son’s name evolved to Guebrandr, which means god-sword.”
Ezra blinked at him then leaned forward a bit. “You think he wielded the Dainsleif?”
“Yes and no,” Raum waggled a hand back and forth.
“I think he wielded a sword that had powers imbued in it, and as stories and legends evolved, and I think at one point it came to be called the Dainsleif. Enchanted swords are a dime a dozen in myths and legends around the world. Narrowing the field down to one sword and the deeds it was involved in is a rather massive undertaking.”
“Hence the post-doc research for your book,” Ezra chimed in, nodding. “I get it. That has to be a lot of information, much of it conflicting.”
“Yes, unfortunately.” He shook his head once.
“But back to why the Dainsleif. I’m named for Raum the Old, because our family’s paternal line is said to be descended from him.
An unbroken line of sons, all the way back to a wielder of a sword that legend claimed always took a life whenever it was drawn—either a victim of the wielder, or the wielder themselves. ”
“It's hard to have an unbroken line of fathers and sons if the family sword will kill you unless you become a killer,” Ezra pointed out. “I’m sure not all of your ancestors were down with murder.”
“Here’s the really good bit.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” Ezra said, entranced, leaning forward to mimic Raum’s pose.
“The line of Raum was said to be immune to the lethal compulsion of the sword. If the wielder drew the blade and failed to claim a life, they survived the curse. It still functioned otherwise, meaning anyone they injured would die, but they would live.”
“Whoa,” Ezra sat back in his chair, blinking at Raum. “That is really good. So if someone other than the line of King Raum drew the sword and tried to use it…”
“They would die if they failed to take a life with the sword, once they drew it from the scabbard, at least. Anyone not blood-related to Raum the Old and his line would die from the curse embedded in the blade. They’d be fine if they left the sword in the scabbard, but not so much once the blade was drawn. ”
“That’s a smart caveat from whoever crafted the blade—reduces the chances of someone trying to steal the sword. No point in having a sword that can kill anyone if it’s guaranteed to kill you if you fail.”
“Exactly,” Raum said.
“And your family legend is you’re descended from Raum the Old, hence your name.” Ezra blinked as he recalled Raum’s full name. “Both your names! Nórsson! Son of Nórr!”
“My parents are big on family history and tradition,” Raum said with a quirk of his lips in gentle amusement.
“They sure are,” Ezra agreed. “That’s way better than my boring, uptight family from England with a century of snobbery in San Francisco to their names. I am jealous.”
A long sigh interrupted them. Both Raum and Ezra looked down the table to where Chase was leaning on one arm, gazing at them both with a dopey expression and a huge grin.
“What?” Ezra asked, confused.
Harlan snorted in amusement, shaking his head at them all, and Chase answered. “I love watching nerds nerd out. Such a good vibe.”
Harlan chuckled, like that wasn’t all there was to it. Ezra squinted at the sergeants, but neither expanded.
“He’s calling us history nerds,” Raum explained.
“Ahhh,” Ezra said, getting it. It was accurate. “He’s not wrong.” Ezra grinned at Raum, who smiled back at him with a wide, bright grin of his own.
At that moment a phone rang, and Raum jolted, pulling out his smartphone and answering it with a fond expression softening his features. “Mom.”
Ezra didn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but Raum was smiling and clearly happy to hear from his mother.
Ezra wondered what that was like for a split second, unable to even imagine being that pleased to speak to one of his parents.
He actually had no idea when he last spoke to either of them willingly.
Both he and his parents were long-practiced in ignoring each other’s existence.
It had been years since he last spoke to them.
“Mom, I’m gonna put you on speaker. Is Dad there?” Raum asked as he set the phone on the table and hit the speaker icon on the screen.
A lightly Norwegian-accented female voice came from the phone. “Yes, dear, he’s here with me. We signed those silly NDAs, now tell us about this artifact; we’re most curious.”
“First some introductions—Mom, Dad, you’re here with two MERS soldiers, Harlan and Chase, and Ezra, curse-breaker.” Raum gave Ezra a swift wink that had him blushing. “Guys, my mother Freya and my father, Nórr. No last names, as they’re a bit old for those and don’t feel the need.”
“Yet you’re a Nórsson?” Ezra asked Raum, a bit confused.
“A surname is kinda required in academia,” a deep male voice came from the phone, his Norwegian accent a bit thicker than his wife’s. “I was flattered that Raum chose the one he did.”
Ezra was charmed to see the faint blush on Raum’s cheeks. Raum cleared his throat and spoke again. “I’ll let Ezra describe the skull.”
Ezra, feeling a bit on the spot, mentally flailed for a second before finding the words he needed.
“Um, okay. This is all conjecture and assumptions based on my limited exposure to the object and how the magic functioned.” He took a deep breath and dived in.
“Perhaps an Elder fae species, very very old, with a single blow to the skull with what looks like a long knife or sword. There are what appears to be either runes or words in blue flame covering the skull, but not in any language I have seen or know—it may not be a language at all. The soul of the being resides in the skull, and the skull is trapped in a horrible cycle of life and death—I believe it’s constantly trying to heal itself while actively dying, and the excess energies are spilling out into the physical plane as an expression of the Elder being’s aspect—a fierce, unnatural blizzard.
It’s trapped in a paradoxical state—an immortal being as near to death as possible without actually crossing over—and the power it has is unlike anything I’ve seen.
Like I said, this is all conjecture and best guesses, but I’m pretty certain.
We’re doing research to try and confirm the details, and hopefully you can help as well. ”
“That…that’s horrific,” Nórr said in a soft tone. “Is the soul aware?”
“I don’t believe so—it had no reaction to me when I temporarily shut down the cycle the one time I interacted with it. Right now it’s in a reliquary, but something that powerful needs to be destroyed. It can destroy an entire country if left unchecked.”
“It’s a weapon in its current state,” Freya mused. “I read the dossier that came with the NDA, darling. Do you think perhaps the trading company brought it along with the purpose of using it?”
“That’s not a bad hypothesis, Mom. Probably? I can’t see any other reason to carry such a dangerous object if they weren’t planning to use it.”
“Does it sound familiar to you at all?” Ezra asked, hoping for the affirmative.
“I’ve never heard of the like before,” Freya said. “Such a horrible thing would be impossible to forget.”
“I’m not sure, son, most ancient artifacts using skulls I’ve ever heard of or have come across were something other than Elder fae.
Usually human skulls. Easily destroyed, too, usually with a hammer.
This doesn’t sound like anything I’ve experienced.
Your grandfather probably has the answers you seek.
” Nórr paused for a second. “Given his age, Pop might even know who the skull was…might know the name of the person they once were.”
“He hasn’t been contacted yet by the MERS lawyers,” Chase interjected quietly, checking his own phone. “They can’t find him.”
“Give me an hour, son, I’ll track my father down for you,” Nórr said. “Have those MERS people waiting at his house and I’ll grab the papers from them for him to sign. He’s probably refusing to come out of his house, he’s not too fond of government types.”
“I’ll let them know sir, thank you,” Chase replied.
“And off he goes,” Freya said, sounding amused. “Your father does love solving problems.”
“I appreciate you too, Mom.”
“I know, dear.” She paused. “Is the curse-breaker still there?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ezra spoke up.
“How did you interrupt the cycle before? You mentioned something about that.”
“Oh, yes. I grounded the death magics in the earth, temporarily shutting down what I call the ouroboros— the outpouring of life magics to death magics, and the surfeit creating the storms. ”
“You’re a necromancer,” she said with certainty. And a lack of judgment. His own mother was anything but proud of his death affinity, seeing it as a mark against the family name and reputation.
“Of a sort,” Ezra only hesitated for a second before deciding to share. “I’m a dual affinity, fire and death.”
“A perfect mix of affinities for a curse-breaker, how wonderful. You’re perfectly suited for your career.”
“I…” His mouth worked for a second, and no sound came out, so startled was he at the supportive words from a mother, anyone’s mother, about his affinities and the life he chose to live. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, dear. That was a brilliant piece of magic. It can’t be permanent, though, can it?”
“No, the second it went into the new reliquary it broke the grounding, so if the reliquary is opened again, it’ll resume the same cycle as before, and call down a blizzard on its location.”
“Can you describe the storm?” Freja asked.
“Snow several feet deep, powerful nonstop winds with whiteout conditions, below freezing temperatures, and sudden enough that it killed a majority of the wildlife in the area.” Chase spoke up for that question. “It covered a radius of 3200 acres.”
“In American that’s five square miles,” Harlan said with a teasing smile for Ezra.
“Thanks—I’m bad at math.” Ezra replied without sarcasm. It was true—he sucked at math. He remembered a detail. “And the clouds were blue, a really vibrant cobalt, directly over the skull’s location. The entire storm was blue-tinted, really.”
“That shade of blue is rather distinctive,” Freya mused, sounding deep in thought. “Were the flames on the skull the same color?”
“Yes, with some electric blue highlights, but mostly cobalt,” Ezra said, hoping she had an idea of what they were dealing with.
“The colors sound familiar. I don’t have a name for you, but perhaps a region to search in your books.
An insular group of Elder fae that originated in the northwest Black Sea region.
They were once called the Vila. Their magics were a rich, vibrant blue, and they were environmental and elemental aspects—snow, ice, frost, storms, and perhaps even blizzards.
I do know for sure that they were worshipped as gods by mortals for a long time.
They were considered cousins to the High Court Sidhe.
Your grandfather will know more for sure, Raum. ”
“How are you so sure that he is going to know what we need; both you and your significant other seem fairly confident?” Harlan asked, leaning forward a bit, ignoring the sharp glance from Raum at his words.
“Oh, that’s an easy answer, but I’ll let Saemund answer it for me,” Freya replied, sounding not at all put out by Harlan’s questioning.
“Saemund?” Ezra asked.
“My grandfather.” Raum answered.
“Ah, okay.”
“Darling, I’m going to let you go; I just got a text from your father. He found Saemund. They’re on the way.” Freya said. “Come to dinner soon! Love you.”
“Love you too!” Raum got in just before his mother hung up.
Raum fiddled with his phone a second before sticking it in his pants pocket.
“Are your dad and grandad on the way to your parents’ place or…here?” Ezra asked, frowning.
“I don’t know…” Raum started, but the bang of a door opening and smacking the wall made them all jump. The sound echoed through the stacks and Ezra heard someone walking in their direction—the security guard was hustling their way with a tall, slim, and handsome blond man trailing along behind.
“Raum!”
“Dad!”