Chapter thirteen
Revna
“At this rate, it will reach the sea in a week,” Ingmar commented as they scratched out the math on the corner of the map of the Odemark we had rolled out across Arik’s desk. “Possibly days if we’re unlucky.”
“When are we ever lucky?” Serrilda was looking on with crossed arms and her usual impassive expression, but I could tell from her tone that she was as concerned as Ingmar. “It’s gaining speed.”
We frowned down at the map, where the charcoal we had used to mark the growth of the Scar reached toward the sea and the practically defenseless kingdom beyond.
“We’re safe so long as it doesn’t reach the mainland though, yes?” Ingmar shot me a hopeful look. “The odemarksdyr can do no harm at the bottom of the Iron Sea.”
“I certainly hope not.” I shook my head, wishing I knew what to do. “How many attacks have there been in the last week?”
Something was happening out on the ice. More injured drage than usual were returning from patrols needing medical attention, and the number of active attacks was higher than I ever remembered it being.
“Eight this week, if you include the one at the Scar.” Serrilda’s face was grave. “And at least two drage lost. A gold was mauled by a myrkvolf yesterday and hasn’t woken yet.”
“Hearthmother, save him,” Ingmar intoned.
I nodded in agreement, silently cursing our luck. “And have you made any headway in the archives?”
“Not yet.” Ingmar shook their head also, their face drawn in concern as they studied the map. “What’s out here? Beyond the peripheries?”
They pointed to the known edge of the Odemark, where Kaldvik stood as a lone sentry, the abandoned fortress having been unmanned for centuries now.
“More ice?” Serrilda suggested. “The Rift can’t continue on indefinitely.”
“Why do you ask?” I pushed, catching Ingmar’s pensive gaze with my own.
“Well…” They hesitated, running their fingers through their dreadlocks. “There was one mention of ‘darkness’ in the scrolls I’ve gone through already.”
“Explain.” I was trying to keep my voice even, but some of my impatience leaked into it. Serrilda gave me a searching look.
“It said something about the dead lands beyond the Rift.” Ingmar bit their lower lip. “When was the last time patrols were sent out to the peripheries?”
“Before Einar sent us, you mean? Years.“ I shook my head. “I have no idea what ‘dead lands’ could mean.”
“The exiles are at Frostvier,” Serrilda pointed out, examining the other western outpost on the map. “It’s a day’s flight from Kaldvik at most. You could send them to have a look?”
“I have no desire to explain to Tormund and Aegir or any of the other exiles what we are looking for.” I wondered if Arik had mentioned the banishment to the king, or the fact that our numbers were now below two hundred as a result.
“So tell them something else,” Ingmar suggested. “Tell them you want to check the end of the Rift and nothing more.”
“What if there isn’t an end to the Rift?” I frowned down at the map where the Rift and the Odemark appeared to extend for eternity off the page. Had the drage never truly mapped the full extent of the Rift before? It seemed odd that all of the maps would stop short at Kaldvik.
“Then they fall off the edge of the world, and good riddance.” Serrilda shrugged.
Ingmar laughed, and I fought hard to hide my smile. “Ingmar, can you hunt through the archives for maps instead? There must be another map that shows more than this one.”
Ingmar saluted. “Your wish is my command.” They pecked Serrilda on the cheek and threatened to do the same to me. I rolled my eyes and pushed them out the door.
“And what will you do?” Serrilda asked once Ingmar was gone. Her arms were crossed over her chest in her usual defensive posture.
I deflated, cracking my neck to stall and think.
It would be nothing to send word to the exiles’ dragons, Kindra pointed out, flexing her claws in my mind. The work of a moment.
Do it, I sighed. To Serrilda, I added, “I’ll ask Viggo and Geir to head to Kaldvik. I don’t trust the exiles to tell me what’s really happening out there.”
“Probably for the best.” Serrilda folded up the map neatly. “And me?”
“If Viggo can spare you, I still need someone to go with me to measure the Scar.”
“Of course.” Serrilda tilted her head to the side. “You should know I’m seeing someone.”
I blinked, not sure what to say. “Congratulations.”
Serrilda sighed. “I don’t tell you to make you jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I replied with complete honesty. I had long gotten over my heartbreak, and Kindra was far too wrapped up in waiting for her mate to show interest in anyone.
I’d thought the same was true for Serrilda’s dragon, Ulla.
“It’s new.” A faint pink blush stained her cheeks. “One of the Chaosborn, Adira. She works in the forges. I was going to say something the other day, but…”
But I had been lonely and sad and reckless, and she’d seen me after the dragons ended things between us.
I nodded in understanding. “And Ulla?”
The blush deepened. “She approves. She thinks maybe in the next Rifting…” She trailed off, and I felt an odd weight lift from my shoulders.
I hadn’t been waiting around and pining for Serrilda, but I had felt oddly responsible for our separation, as Kindra had initiated it. Her seeing someone—a Chaosborn likely to bond her dragon’s mate, no less—made it feel like we could finally put it behind us.
I grinned as Kindra returned from sending my request to Frostvier. “Is she as messy as I was?”
Serrilda rolled her eyes, her face unperturbed as the blush receded. “More, if that’s possible. And I only tell you now because…well…”
She opened and closed her mouth once. Twice. It was so unusual for Serrilda to be tongue-tied that I was almost certain this Adira would end up her mate.
“If you’re about to suggest a threesome—“
Serrilda threw a book at me. I neatly caught it, my grin wide.
“You are the worst,” she said without rancor. “I told you because I won’t lie to her. About what I’m doing.”
I nodded, still smiling from ear to ear. “I wouldn’t ask you to. I’m happy for you, truly.”
Kindra barged back into my consciousness, clearly annoyed. Vidar acknowledges our request and will relay it to his human. As if it wasn’t an order.
I’m sorry. I gave her a mental scratch, thinking hateful thoughts of Tormund for the twisted way he treated the dragons. Kindra ranked below Vidar, but he knew she spoke for Baldur and Idunn.
Men are insufferable. Especially human ones.
“Would you like me to talk to Viggo?” Serrilda was looking at me with a bemused expression on her face. “It’s no trouble if Kindra needs you.”
“No, I’ll go.” I looked at the woman I had once loved, who I now called a friend and part of my family. “I really am happy for you, Serrilda.”
“Thank you.” She gave me a faint smile, which from Serrilda was practically a grin. “Perhaps you should go socialize more. Maybe one of the Chaosborn—“
“Absolutely not.” I cut her off with a raised palm. “Kindra is excessively picky. She’s already rejected half of the mountain, and I have too much to do to go out drinking or gambling to try to find her a mate.”
Us a mate, Kindra grumbled, though I noticed she didn’t argue about the pickiness.
You, I insisted. I’m fine on my own.
Serrilda rolled her eyes. “Go talk to Viggo. I’ll finish up here, then help Ingmar in the archives. Perhaps we’ll make more headway with two of us searching.”
“Perhaps.” I hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t lie to Adira, but perhaps don’t volunteer what we’re up to? At least not yet.”
Serrilda raised a brow, and I rushed to add, “If she asks, tell her, obviously. But I have a feeling that the fewer people who suspect what we do, the better.”
“And what is it that we suspect exactly?”
I swallowed, and Kindra gave me a nudge. No secrets.
“That the Rift is growing.” This part Serrilda knew, but the next was a suspicion that I needed more information to verify. Still, it helped no one if I kept the theory to myself.
I thought of the growing scar, of the dark mass of monsters that had emerged from the Rift to attack me the other day. Of the shifting ice and the fact that I wasn’t sure if I could trust my own eyes.
I blew out a heavy breath as I met Serrilda’s serious gaze. “And that something is trying to get out.”