Chapter 20
ERANN
He woke once more after a restless sleep.
He’d dreamed of flying, the world spread out before him in an endless expanse of shimmering silvers and rich purples, the mountain peaks poking through thick clouds promising more snow.
The joy of soaring through the air still lingered as he tried to remember more.
It left him feeling hopeful. One more day, maybe less, and he’d reach Rankil’s.
Then he’d speak to his sister about Anya. Then, he could return home.
But first, there was a less pleasant task to perform.
He descended from the annex loft, ensured he had his belongings with him, including his heatstone, and opened the outer door just enough to peer out.
He darted his head back inside, blinking.
It was too bright to truly see, but he could just make out the steading, and he didn’t sense any movement from it.
Quickly, keen to be away from the sad location, he pulled his backpack into position, opened the door fully and stepped out. Turning, he took care to close the door firmly. It was a good building. Perhaps someone would one day build a new steading nearby and be able to make use of it.
Blinking with confusion, he looked around, not understanding what he was seeing. It wasn’t just that it was too bright to see far. Fog swirled around the steading. Was it fog? He sniffed. The sharp bite of smoke made him cough.
He turned the corner and his breath caught in his throat.
‘What?’ he gasped. The steading was charred and smoking, flames still licking at the grass roof in places. ‘What’s happened here?’ he repeated, and then shook his head. There must be someone else here. They’d found the bodies too.
‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
He was met with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional hiss as water dripped on the charred skeleton of the steading.
‘Hello,’ he called again, but once more, there was no reply.
‘How has this happened if there’s no one here but me?
’ He shook his head, coughing again because of the smoke.
‘It makes no sense. How did the fire start? The steading wouldn’t have caught alight without someone setting a flame to the structure. ’
Turning, he swallowed heavily. It was a small miracle the annex hadn’t gone up in flames along with the main steading. The two were almost close enough to touch, while still being separate.
Perplexed, but unable to stop himself, he stepped carefully towards the remnants of the tunnel entrance, peering inside – to see the twisted, charred remains of the wolves. Now he gagged.
The steading was only half burned, the bodies there too visible.
He must do more to ensure the fire consumed the whole place.
He bent, grimacing, and pulled the remnants of bedding from one of the disturbed beds.
He forced himself towards the flames outside, and then, when the bedding caught alight, rushed back inside, placing it next to the half-burned remains.
Choking on the acrid stench, he walked back outside. His mouth tasted of ash and sorrow.
Staggering, his steps hurried him away from the devastation, but the scent of burnt fur and flesh clung to him, no matter how fast he walked.
His strides took him towards the edges of Vatna Jokull, scarcely aware of where he was going.
He trudged on, slipping through the deep snow, his mind trying to shut out everything he’d just seen, trying to outrun the smell that seemed to carry in the air, no matter how far he went.
Only then, the daylight faded almost between one breath and the next, and a howling storm roared to life.
‘Just a little further,’ he promised, bending into the fierce wind. ‘Rankil’s steading should be just round the next bend. It must be. I’ve been walking all day.’
But all Erann found when his steps faltered, seeming to wake from a daze that had clouded his thinking all day, was the vast empty glacier stretching before him. The planets offered no guidance, hidden by storm clouds; even the moon was obscured.
‘Where am I?’ he gasped, heart thudding in his chest. ‘By the Gods.’ He cursed his own stupidity, his words ripped from his mouth by the force of the wind, which battered him. He couldn’t turn into the wind because it stole his breath.
‘I’m lost and it’s too dark to go on. If I don’t stop, I risk falling into a crevasse on the glacier. I can’t even see my own hand in front of my face.’
Frantically, he tumbled to his knees and fumbled with his backpack. There was another fur inside. He was sure of it. He could use it to cover his head and warm the air before he breathed it. It was pitiful but all he could do.
‘No,’ he gasped, only just in time feeling his father’s journal springing free from the unfurling fur, before it too flew away from him.
Gripping the journal tightly, he pulled the fur over his head, lying curled on his side, gripping the precious link to his father tightly.
Perhaps, with the journal in his hands, his father would come to his aid once more. As he had before. Somehow.
‘Thor,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse. ‘Once more, please, protect me.’
Abruptly, the wind dropped and the blizzard seemed to stop. Yet, he could still hear the wind howling, see dancing eddies of snow when he risked looking. But none of them touched him. A steady, creeping warmth spread through him. He felt entirely at peace.
So this is death, he thought. It’s not so bad.
And he slipped into a deep sleep, unable to prevent it, clutching his father’s journal tightly.