Writers' Wednesday || Part 11 - The Volva (Not Volvo)

My sister, when she proof-read this the first time thought it was called "The Volvo" as in the kind of car...

Just, please, I can't... No.

It's Volva, just to clarify. :) Or in case that was the first thing that popped into your head when you read the title. :)

- Part 11 -

The Volva

Clarity hesitated for less than a second. Then she turned and ran.

At the other end of the hallway, there was another door that led to a secondary staircase. She yanked it open and raced out of sight. Two guards chased after her, leaving two to hold Sean.

Before they could get a good grip on his arms, he brought up the walkie-talkie in his hand and cracked it against the first guard's head. The man gave a cry of pain and stumbled back. By sheer will power Sean pulled free of the other guard's hands, threw the walkie-talkie in his face, and fled for the opposite stairwell.

He took the stairs two at a time, escaping downwards. His hands were slick with sweat as they slid along the railing. The guards' pounding footsteps echoed along the passage from behind.

He and Clarity were completely separated now. How was he supposed to find her again?

Five floors flew by before he finally reached a dead-end at the bottom. With nowhere else to go, he opened the last door and found himself in the strangest room he had ever seen.

The walls were covered in scribbles and stripes and shapes and numbers that looked as if they'd been written with colored ink pens and wax pencils; every color of the rainbow covering every bit of wall space from the floor to six-feet up. The rest of the room was bare except for a bed and a latrine in one corner.

And the woman.

She was silver-haired and wore a clean white dress. Her eyes were closed, her hands folded, and her legs crossed as she sat in the middle of the floor. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and her posture straight. Sean glanced behind him, wondering why the guards hadn't caught up yet.

They won't come in here.

Sean yelled and jumped backwards as the voice echoed in his head, deep, breathy, old.

It has been such a very long time since I have been able to speak to another mind. Others hear my words only as pain in their heads. That is why no one comes in here unless they must. They fear me.

Her eyes still hadn't opened. But she was smiling. It was a beautiful smile.

You cannot speak back to me as I speak to you. You do not have the gift yet. But you will…Yes, when Ragnarok meets the traitor, when he has made his choice. When Valhalla is close to coming, then they shall give you voice.

Sean didn't know which alarmed him more. The fact that this old woman had one-way telepathy, or that she seemed to think she knew his future.

"Who are you?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.

The woman suddenly cackled, making Sean jump back again. She rocked, hands on knees, head thrown back in merriment. She spoke both aloud and in his mind, "She called me the Volva. I know your names. You were never gods. I see the future, yes. I see fate, destiny! Hahahaha! Yes! I see destiny…!"

Sean glanced at the scribbles on the walls. Some of the names she had just said were written amongst the random words, like Valhalla and Freyja. But there were more, such as Skade and Blood and Ask. And everywhere, more than anything else, the word Ragnarok.

"Who is Ragnarok?" he asked.

The Volva cackled again and this time her voice resonated in every corner of Sean's mind, vibrating as if through his soul.

He is the end and the beginning. The darkness to quench the light and the light to blind the darkness. He is from the first and he is to be the last. All seek him but none want him. He is the breath of time and the fire of life. Death searches him as an old friend. And he will find him.

Sean sighed, surprised to find himself more irritated now than scared. So much for a straight answer.  But he had too much to worry about right now to be spending brain power on this Ragnarok guy.

He had to find Clarity and they had to get out of here. Addressing the Volva again, he said, "Can you tell me how to get out of this place? And how to find my friend?"

The Volva seemed to have calmed down now. She seemed somber. Aloud, she said, "The power sleeps in you. Over lines, over time too. Find the room, take the device. Hear your soul, be precise."

"What? What device?"

"Seventeen, fifteen, twenty-six, eight!" the Volva's voice rose to a screech. "Hurry, hurry, before it's too late! Find your friend, before she dies. Find the minds in which the secrets lie. Round, round, round, take door number three. There will be more than fire before you are free."

Find your friend before she dies? Sean didn't understand anything else the woman had said, except that Clarity was in danger. He peeked through the window in the door, and saw the two guards were still standing out there, obviously waiting for him to come out. They would have radioed somebody by now. Reinforcements would be on the way.

I will help you, the Volva whispered in Sean's mind.

"Wait," Sean had just one more question.

The Volva cocked her head at him.

"Why are you here?"

The Volva smiled bitterly, I am a prisoner.

"Then why aren't you locked up?"

The Volva's image seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then Sean found himself looking at a whole new scene.

The woman was no longer sitting crosslegged on the floor. She was in the bed in the corner, an IV hooked to her arm and a bag of fluid hung on a pole next to it. A breathing tube stretched across her upperlip, and wries were attatched with sunction-cup like things to her cranium. A box-shaped computer displayed what Sean guessed were brain waves and the woman's heartbeat.

My mind can do more than merely speak. I can make others see what I wish them to see.

Sean saw that though everything else had changed, the Volva woman was still just as beautiful.

I am old. And I am lame. I am not in a cell because they fear only my mind, not my body. Now go, save your friend. I will make the way for you.

The woman breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

Yells sounded from the guards outside. Sean tugged the door open and found them writhing on the floor, gripping their ears. With one last grateful look back at the Volva, he leapt over the men and raced back up the stairs.

Writing scenes with crazy people is way too much fun. :D
~The Scribbler in the Attic