NORSE - Book cover

NORSE

Lulu Waters

Chapter 1

RUNA—15 YEARS LATER

ANCIENT DIG SITE, NORWAY

You’d think it would be warm here in the summer months, but I can assure you that’s not the case at all.

I landed in Oslo early yesterday morning, breathing in the cool, crisp air. Even though it’s the country’s warm season, the temperature today still requires me to wear a sweater and jeans.

“Here, I brought you some coffee, Runa,” Isak says, holding out a steaming cup of Joe as he stands beside me on the boat.

We’re in the last leg of our long journey to the dig site. It’s my first one.

I graduated from Brown University with a four-year degree in archaeology, and my professor is the one who hooked me up with this gig right after the graduation ceremony.

Isak is an archaeologist too, paid to come pick me up and bring me to the site. I guess it’s not easy to get to.

We’ve flown in two kinds of planes, traveled by car through mountain passes, and now we’re on a boat traveling up a long fjord to our destination.

I was told we’re digging in an ancient Viking village location, and I couldn’t be more excited. My dreams have come true.

The views are absolutely breathtaking. That is if you can gawk longer than a few seconds at a time. My eyes keep fogging over from the cold air, but the mountain ranges are worth it.

Imagine the largest mountains you’ve ever seen, then double them. Snow covers the top peaks on the highest ones, while the lower mountains are covered in a lush green landscape.

The water in which we travel is some of the clearest water I’ve ever seen in my life. It helps that we’re far, far away from any city or civilization that could contaminate the waters here.

I smile as I take in the landscape, thinking about my Grandma Naynay and all the books and artifacts I grew up around. She’d be so proud if she were still alive.

I lost her last year, and it was the most painful thing I’ve ever been through. She left me all her belongings, and I’ve spent the past several months going through all of it.

There was a book among the stack about the kings and their queen. It was my favorite story as a child, and I found myself diving right back into it as an adult.

I realized Grandma told me the PG-rated version of the story because the one I’ve been reading is dark and mystical, full of orgies and sexual acts using knives, bathing in blood.

And let’s not forget to mention that all three kings shared the same woman. When I was a child, I never saw it like that, but as an adult... I’ve created some dirty fantasies in my mind.

“There it is!” Isak calls out, pointing straight ahead.

My mouth falls open at the sight before me. The fjord comes to an end as the mountains surrounding the area tower high above the landscape.

We’ve hit a dead end, it seems, but the archaeology team has set up tents, built small cabins, and turned the place into a tiny village.

I picture it as if I were back in the eleventh century, approaching the seaside village on a Viking ship as I return home after a long journey.

I’m plunged back in time, grinning from ear to ear as I picture it all.

“I can’t wait to meet the site’s leader,” I say excitedly.

When my professor told me about the gig, he told me who was running it, and I almost passed out. The three men are legends in our field. They might be younger men, but they know their shit.

Experts in the field, these men know everything there is to know about my field of study: Viking Age Scandinavia. I’d love nothing more than to be able to pick their brains.

And, okay, I’ll be honest, I’m really hoping I can ask them about the folklore of the queen and her three kings. All legends come from some kind of truth, right?

I want to know who these people were and if their story was true at all.

Isak snorts. “Fat chance, Runa. The site leaders only come out when someone has found something substantial. Otherwise, they sit up in their warm, fancy cabin and watch all of us work.”

That might be the case, but he has no idea how persistent I can be when I want something.

Now my grandma is gone, I have nobody to ask questions about my favorite childhood story.

I remember asking my professor once, and he looked at me like I was crazy. He’d never heard of the legend before.

Once I inherited all my grandma’s things, I kept the book all to myself. I didn’t want anyone taking it from me when they realized it existed.

As we approach the long dock, I see a friendly familiar face. I’ve been writing back and forth with Aina since our sophomore years in college.

Our love of the Viking Era was palpable the moment we met, and we’ve been best friends ever since. Though this is the first time we’re meeting in person.

When the boat docks, I leap off and run for her. She meets me halfway before we launch into each other’s arms.

“Runa! I can’t believe you’re finally here!” Aina cries.

“I can’t believe it either!” I hold her back, taking her in. “My God, Aina, you’re more beautiful in person.” And she truly is with her dirty-blonde hair, blue eyes, and slim figure.

She’s the epitome of what a modern Scandinavian woman looks like.

“Me? Girl, look at you!” She brushes her fingers through my hair. “I still don’t believe this is your natural hair color.”

I step back, dropping my gaze as I tug on the ends of my long hair. I’ve been teased about my hair for as long as I can remember.

You don’t see a lot of people with hair as white as mine without paying for expensive salon services.

And trust me, I see the connection between my hair and the queen’s hair from my favorite story, but I let go of the idea of being the queen when I was fifteen years old.

Why would an evil sorcerer send the queen away only to have her end up being me? My life is boring at best, and there’s nothing extraordinary about me at all.

As we catch up, Isak and a few crew members unload our things.

Aina shows me around the makeshift village they’ve created—where the food shack is, where I’ll sleep, which tent is for found artifacts versus which one is where I grab digging tools.

And last but not least…the cabin that houses the site leaders.

“Introduce me,” I beg Aina, tugging her up the hill.

But she stops me dead in my tracks. “No, Runa, you can’t just go up there. You have to be invited. They won’t answer the door anyways.

“Just last week one of our diggers broke his leg when he fell down the hill—they didn’t come out. They seem to only care about one thing, and that isn’t us.”

She makes them sound awful, but the image I have in my head of them is anything but. I’ll let it slide for now, but I will meet them. An important folklore’s truth depends on it.

If the queen is real and her kings are still looking for her, I want to be able to help find her.

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