Chapter eighteen
Arik
Idunn flew north for several hours. Her blue scales chafed at my thighs as I rose astride her and tried to overcome the emptiness in my head.
Of course the wine had been poisoned. I hadn’t realized Baldur was becoming harder and harder to hear until we were in my mother’s chambers, and by then, it was too late.
I knew Baldur was somewhere. I could feel the shadow of him sitting in the hollow pit inside me.
But the mistletoe had raised a wall between us that I couldn’t penetrate, no matter how hard I pushed.
The mental bridge that linked us to our mate ended in a deep black chasm wider than the Rift and filled with nothing but endless, all-consuming darkness.
“We’ll get him back.” I patted Idunn’s scaly neck, knowing she likely couldn’t hear me.
Knowing that I was utterly alone with my own thoughts for the first time in twenty years.
Fuck, how much mistletoe had Jorgen and I drunk? It had taken almost twelve hours to have an effect on us. How many hours or days would it take to get it out of our systems?
Unless it was the wine at the Althing that was poisoned. It was possible—father didn’t take chances where he could help it. Had Edvard drained my glass when I’d abandoned it?
But no, Jorgen hadn’t been there.
Then how had Edvard been affected?
Eisa and Branka had both drunk the wine on our first night in the castle. It must have been safe. So it had to have been the wine the steward brought us after my meeting with my father.
If Arne had drunk the same amount as we did, it could kill him. I would never fucking forgive myself if he died.
There were too many questions, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about any of them. We had no supplies, no weapons, no Book, and only two dragons capable of shifting while my father’s entire army likely attempted to follow our trail.
The only blessing was that my brilliant mate had thought to fly us north instead of south. No doubt he assumed we’d return to Ironholm, so flying in the opposite direction would buy us a little time, I hoped.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” How had everything gone so utterly and completely to shit?
I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against Idunn’s neck. She huffed sympathetically, as if she could sense my turmoil even though she couldn’t hear or feel Baldur.
The sun was firmly below the horizon by the time she began her descent.
We’d flown mostly above the cloud cover, and I was soaked and frozen despite the heat of her scales.
Eisa wouldn’t be in much better shape when she shifted back, and I cursed myself again for not waiting until she was at full strength to enact our mad plan.
Idunn screeched in warning, and I opened my eyes to find the ground rushing toward us. I couldn’t hear Eisa in my head, but I could imagine her telling me to stop moping and brace myself.
The thought made some of the darkness lift.
Idunn landed with a thump, and I slid off her back only to land in six inches of mud.
Everything in this fucking kingdom seemed to be mud.
The cloud cover was too thick to see much of the landscape by moonlight, but I was fairly certain we were in a field. Bryndis landed several yards away with a heavy squelch, and Jorgen slid gracefully off her back before also discovering the mud.
“Well, that was a fucking disaster.” Jorgen tried to kick the mud from his boots as he sloshed toward me. His injuries were somewhat healed, presumably through Bryndis’ magic.
Magic which clearly didn’t work on mistletoe.
“That’s putting it lightly.” I grimaced as Idunn shook out her damp wings above me, and her icy blue eyes glared at me accusatorily.
“He’s still in here,” I promised, placing a hand over my chest. “He’s stuck behind a sort of wall.”
“It’s the same with Sigurd,” Jorgen agreed as Bryndis whipped her head around to face him. He scratched her eye ridges, her hackles lowering slightly. “I swear it, love, I had no idea the wine was poisoned.”
Bryndis snorted skeptically, as if she doubted it would have stopped him from drinking, and a warm jet of steam momentarily chased away the cold.
“Idunn.” The blue dragon was pacing irritably, kicking mud up everywhere as she went, and I could almost imagine her heated argument with Eisa inside their head.
Probably about whether or not to barbecue me for losing Baldur.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, smearing mud everywhere. “Fuck. This is a mess.”
Idunn huffed indignantly as if in agreement, then lowered her head, butting me in the chest. Hard. She repeated the motion, then hissed.
“What?”
She nodded her head at Jorgen, who was still scratching Bryndis’ eye ridges.
“Demanding thing.” Her head was larger than I was, and I had to stand on my toes to reach the sensitive spot above her eyes. She grumbled as if somewhat mollified as I scratched the ridges. “Don’t shift yet. Not till we have a plan. Eisa would freeze.”
She growled, and I could almost hear Eisa telling me that she wasn’t a complete idiot.
Something must have tipped my father off. Possibly the guards had woken early or someone had spotted Branka and Eisa. Regardless, it was my plan that got us here. If I hadn’t let Eisa go without me…
But no. That wasn’t fair. It wouldn’t have changed anything, and it wasn’t her fault in the slightest.
Idunn snorted impatiently, and I realized I had stopped scratching. I resumed with a sigh, meeting her giant blue eyes. “It was quick thinking, flying north. Is it because you still want to see Sigrid?”
She nodded her great, scale head and nuzzled back against my chest. She withdrew with another hiss, her blue eyes wide.
“What now?”
She butted me again, and a bead of heat warmed over my sternum.
“Oh.” I pulled the tiny gem out from beneath my tunic. It glowed faintly as I held it before Idunn’s eyes, and she snorted in recognition. “The only thing that went to plan.”
My father’s guards had stormed into my mothers rooms just as I had asked her about it. None of the guards had noticed the chain she had clasped around my neck as she frantically embraced me. Her cries as they pulled me from her would haunt me for a good long while.
Idunn whined, possibly a demand for explanation? I wasn’t sure. Trying to communicate without Baldur was a disaster, and I realized how challenging it must have been for Eisa when Baldur and Kindra had flown her to Ironholm.
“You were brilliant, by the way. Both of you.” I patted Idunn’s scaly snout, remembering how well they had done without any help from me or Jorgen. The glorious sight of her blue fire exploding from the ceiling of the Great Hall. “My brilliant, bold mate.”
She snorted again as if to say, “Of course,” and I huffed a laugh, despite my misery.
“What do we do now?” Jorgen asked, his hand on Bryndis’ neck. The gold dragon was snuffling at Jorgen’s jacket as if hopeful he had a snack stashed somewhere.
“Inventory,” I commanded Jorgen, beginning to turn out my pockets into my hands, careful not to drop anything into the mud. “Do you have anything useful on you?”
It wasn’t an inspiring haul. We had a few copper coins, the clothes on our backs, a switchblade that Jorgen had hidden in his boot, and the necklace, which we couldn’t give up under any circumstances.
“They took my pack with all our belongings when they bound my hands,” Jorgen explained apologetically. “And my sword.”
“Mine too.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”
Jorgen chuckled. “I’m aware of that. It’s not yours either, in case you were thinking of blaming yourself.”
Idunn snuffled, and I wasn’t sure which of us she was agreeing with.
“Orders then, Dragehersker?”
“I’m not fucking sure I should be giving anyone orders at this point,” I sighed.
Jorgen gave me a wry smile and thumped me on the back. “And yet, here we are. No rest for the weary.”
I rubbed my chin, thinking. My beard had grown longer in the last few days and was desperately in need of a trim. And a wash, since it was now covered in mud.
“You and Bryndis should go back to Ironholm. Tell Revna what happened.” I looked up at Idunn and she snorted impatiently. “Eisa and I still need to speak with Sigrid.”
Bryndis snorted in obvious annoyance at this suggestion.
“Be reasonable, love,” Jorgen began, but it was Idunn who tempered Bryndis’ frustration.
She pressed her scaly blue head against Bryndis’ gold, their eyes level as they exchanged silent arguments.
Bryndis snorted, and Idunn snorted right back, both huffing their frustrations at the other.
It might have been comical were our straits not quite so dire.
I wasn’t sure dragons could sigh in resignation, but it was the closest approximation to the sound Bryndis finally made. She nodded once, then lowered her head beside Jorgen, waiting.
“I think that’s a yes,” I ventured, giving Idunn a nod of thanks. “Go back to Revna. See if you can come up with a better way to get the Book now that Branka knows where it’s kept.”
“You take the money, then,” Jorgen dropped the coins into my palm. “Might be enough to rent a horse. And the knife. I’ll have Bryndis to protect me.”
The gold dragon licked her forked tongue over Jorgen’s cheek in agreement, and he patted her neck.
“You should take my tunic, too.” Bryndis sat up a little straighter as Jorgen unbuckled his jacket and pulled off his tunic, her eyes a gleaming gold. “For Eisa. When she shifts.”
He tossed me the shirt and replaced his jacket, much to Bryndis’ dismay.
I hated the idea of Eisa smelling like another man. Normally Baldur would have growled in agreement, and I felt his absence like a hollow ache. He had been with me since I was basically still a boy, and I felt unmoored without him.
“Thanks. Idunn will send word to Bryndis when we’re heading back.”
“If Baldur and Sigurd aren’t back yet.” Jorgen looked worried as he climbed atop Bryndis’ neck. She stood and shook out her golden wings as she prepared for flight. “How long do you think—“
“Days, if we’re lucky.”
“And if we’re unlucky? Never mind, don’t answer that,” he shouted as Bryndis began to flap. “Not sure I want to know.”
I stepped back several paces as Bryndis launched herself into the sky, Jorgen pressed tight against her neck as she ascended above the clouds and out of sight.
A warm, scaly head butted against my back.
“I haven’t forgotten about you.” I turned, rubbing my hands over Idunn’s snout. “What do you think? Should we try to find food and sleep now, or fly to Sigrid tonight?”
Idunn tilted her head as if considering, then snorted toward the sky. Fly, then.
I nodded. “You have the strength?”
She gave me such a withering look that I almost believed it was Eisa looking back at me.
“Okay, okay,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
She huffed a haughty acceptance of my apology as she lowered her head to make it easier to climb atop her back.
I patted the glittering blue scales of Idunn’s neck, wishing I could hear Eisa across our mental bridge. The way was still firmly blocked, and I looked forward to her finally shifting back.
At least she was warm like this.
Idunn snuffled impatiently. “Alright, yes, I’m ready.”
She was in the sky before I was fully seated, the misty field below growing distant as she turned east toward the village where we had left Sigrid.
And hopefully toward some answers.