Chapter 3 #2
Silla’s gaze had grown distant, a solemn air settling over her.
“I can…sense Him inside me, and yet ever since Svangormr Pass, He only slumbers. I would hope that He’s lost interest in me, but that would be too easy.
And the longer He’s silent, the more restless I get.
I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation…
like He is only biding His time.” As Hekla’s brows raised, Silla forced an overbright laugh.
“I’m certain I’m reaching,” she said breezily.
“Besides, it is only temporary. We search for a cure, and soon, we’ll find one. I can just feel it.”
“Dúlla,” said Hekla on a heavy breath. “That’s a lot to weather.”
“Yes, well, thankfully I’ve not had to weather it alone,” Silla continued. “And while we search for a cure, we’ve agreed that it’s best to keep the details quiet. Jarl Hakon thinks Eisa ought to solidify her place at court before adding in such…complications.”
Hekla opened her mouth to ask why Silla referred to Eisa as though she were someone else, but decided against it.
“Which means more lies. I suppose it’s only temporary. Soon Saga will come back to us and take her rightful place as queen.” Silla sighed, flopping back. “Ashes, but a lot has transpired since we’ve last seen each other.”
“Aye.” Hekla’s arm throbbed where no limb existed—the phantom pains that had once plagued her seemed to have returned on the ride back from Istré. Exhaustion was weaving itself into Hekla’s bones, her cravings for a bath and a long nap growing.
But her gaze caught on Silla, who watched her carefully. “Hekla, there is more.” Silla chewed on her lip, wrestling with something inwardly. “Something unexpectedly wonderful happened in the shield-home—”
Curiosity prickled Hekla’s skin, but before Silla could continue, the door to the chambers burst open and people filed into the room. Hekla leaped to her feet and rushed at a startled Axe Eyes, throwing her left arm around him and slapping him on the back. It seemed she was a hugger today.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, drawing back. Trying to hold the Bloodaxe Crew together in Istré had been empowering, yet utterly exhausting. Hekla was glad to hand the reins back over to Axe Eyes.
“As are you.” Rey’s lips twitched, and he nodded at her.
That singular expression was worth more than Hekla could explain—a smidge of the old amid so much new.
“Istré has long been on my mind. I am sorry I could not be there with you and that things went badly. But I am glad to see you whole and hale.”
Movement behind Rey caught Hekla’s eye. Eyvind Hakonsson sauntered into the room, freshly bathed and dressed in a fine-spun tunic that looked far too good on him.
His once-glorious black hair was now singed and smoothed back, and the burns on his sharp cheekbones reminded Hekla of how he’d risked everything to save her from the explosion in Istré’s town square.
An ache bloomed in her chest, and she forced her gaze away.
How could he have hidden this Liv from her all this time?
Her anger at Eyvind’s deception was a low simmer, but the anger she directed inward burned far hotter.
What Hekla could not bear to tell Silla was that she and Eyvind had grown close.
That she’d convinced herself that perhaps they could be more than a mere roll in the furs.
Thank the gods she’d discovered his betrothal before she did something wholly humiliating.
“They’ve set you up in a palace!”
Gunnar strolled into the room, his locs woven into a thick braid, and his beard neatly trimmed and oiled.
He greeted Hekla with an unexpected kiss to the cheek that had her reeling back, her gaze accidentally locking with Eyvind’s.
Those hazel eyes smoldered, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and Hekla quickly refocused her glare on Gunnar.
We have much to discuss, Gunnar’s amused look seemed to say.
She opened her mouth with a sharp reply, but a group of warriors she did not recognize entered the room.
“This is Runny, Kálf, Hef, and Erik,” Rey introduced. “Galdra from my hometown who’re now on queensguard duty.”
Hekla shook each of their hands. Gods, this was strange. Not only being surrounded by Galdra, but being in the presence of a queen—even if Silla did not think of herself as such.
Thrand, Eyvind’s second in command, led Eyvind’s retinue into the room and closed the door behind them. Suddenly, Hekla’s chambers didn’t feel quite so large.
“Right!” boomed Rey, and conversations among the twenty or so warriors died a swift death.
Silla sidled up beside him, and together they waited for the other warriors to gather around.
“We’re here to discuss Istré. There is more to it than many of you know.
I am not certain if my letters reached Istré at the end, but I’ll repeat the information for all present. ”
A feeling of anticipation settled over the room.
“I believe—” Rey cleared his throat, and Silla slid her hand into his, squeezing gently. Hekla’s brows drew together.
“We believe—” Rey ratified with a strange expression so near to a smile that Hekla nearly fell over.
We?
“—that Rokkur is coming. It is a thing of legend long lost. The twilight of our days.”
Murmurs rippled through the room, but Hekla was too busy examining Silla and Rey’s joined hands. When last she’d parted from them, they were constantly at each other’s throats. Rey couldn’t wait to rid himself of Silla. But then he’d gone after her when Jonas had taken her.
Something unexpectedly wonderful happened in the shield-home, Silla had said. Could it be? No. There could not be a more unlikely pairing than these two.
“Rokkur,” continued Rey, “is said to begin with frost and end with fire. We believe the long winters we’ve suffered for the last several years fulfill the frost part of the legend. And we believe that when the Sleeping Dragons awaken, we shall have fire. Yet all that lies between is unknown.”
“While we were in Kalasgarde, an enormous serpent entered our realm through a crack in the earth,” Silla chimed in.
“Rey’s grandmother is a Weaver. A type of Galdra able to weave the threads of past, present, and future into a tapestry,” she added helpfully for Hekla and the other non-Galdra in the bunch.
“Harpa wove a tapestry with four images: a serpent, a dragon, a tree, and a queen.”
An ominous prickle ran down Hekla’s spine.
“The serpent makes sense to us,” continued Silla.
“And the dragon—surely that is the one called Kraugeir. He who sleeps among the slumbering fire mountains. But we wonder—could the tree refer to Istré? Harpa said that dark creatures would emerge from the deep-rooted woods of the west. Surely, she’s referring to your job in Istré? ”
“Perhaps.” Goosebumps formed on Hekla’s skin at the sound of Eyvind’s voice. “I’m afraid we know little of the mist.” She felt the touch of his gaze like a caress. “Hekla,” he said thickly, “knows it best of all.”
There seemed to be hidden meaning in those words—an apology, perhaps, for all that had transpired in Istré. Hekla’s jaw shifted as she tried to drive such thoughts away.
After a moment, she straightened her spine and looked at Axe Eyes.
“What we know of the mist can be listed on one hand.” She lifted a finger on her left hand.
“The mist emerges with the sound of a beating heart coming from somewhere distant in the forest.” She lifted a second finger.
“Any creature—beast or man alike—entrapped in the mist is Turned draugur.” Except me, she did not say.
Hekla added a third finger. “It is repelled by fire and moonlight.”
“ ‘It’?” asked one of the Kalasgardian warriors—Kálf, if Hekla recalled correctly.
A fourth finger rose. “We believe the mist is alive.”
This caused a chorus of whispers to whip up among the gathered warriors. “What do you mean?” someone called out.
Hekla shivered, thinking of the way the mist had spoken to her through one of its enthralled draugur.
“It is strategic and cunning. It manipulated Loftur. Convinced him he could earn Sunnvald’s blessing by holding a feast on the double black moon, which proved to be a trap.
The double black moon was when the mist’s power was unrestrained and it could fully escape the woods. ”
The silence in the room was absolute. For the thousandth time since she’d begun working on this job, Hekla cursed Loftur.
He’d hidden the truth from her. Had barred her from entering the forest. They could have known so much more about this enemy had she been allowed to investigate.
Instead Istré had burned to the ground and now, apparently, the mist had grown stronger.
“Rey defeated the serpent, and we killed many of her hatchlings. Does that not prove that Myrkur’s creatures can be vanquished?” Silla’s voice was small in the large room, but it was like a sudden summer breeze, lifting the mood in an instant.
“Aye,” said Rey, squeezing Silla’s hand, then turning back to the group. “You’ve been there, Hekla, you know this thing. What do you suggest?”
Hekla met his gaze, warmth again flooding her chest—she’d forgotten what it was like to be listened to and respected. After a moment of stunned silence, she spoke. “We need more men and replenished supplies. And we need to go into those woods.”
“Before,” said Rey, looking from Hekla to Gunnar and Sigrún, “you did not know the true nature of what you faced. Your hands were shackled by rules and restrictions. You made the best of what you had. We shall return to Istré armed with numbers and knowledge.”
The group settled on the benches surrounding the hearth, and they began to plot the details of the mission. Though the thought of returning to Istré had been demoralizing at the start of the hour, by the end, Hekla was reinvigorated. She was eager to face down this foe and vanquish it for good.
Eventually, warriors all around stood and prepared to leave. From the corner of her eye, Hekla spotted a lone figure seated at the bench. It was Silla, staring listlessly at the fire as flames danced in her glassy eyes.
“Dúlla?” Hekla’s left hand clasped Silla’s wrist, intending to rouse her friend from her daze. But her fingertips met ice-cold skin, and when Silla’s blank eyes locked onto hers, Hekla gasped.
In that instant, she knew it was not her friend looking back at her at all, but something altogether other. The hairs on her neck lifted as Hekla reached back out. Tapped Silla gently.
Silla’s head jolted forward, and she seemed disoriented. “Oh! The meeting has ended.” She glanced around the room. “I must have fallen asleep.”
Hekla observed her. “You seemed wide awake to me.”
Silla’s brows furrowed. “Oh, no. I’m certain I fell asleep. How embarrassing.” She offered a smile, but it fell as she took in whatever was revealed on Hekla’s face. “What is it, Hekla?”
“I’m not sure,” Hekla answered honestly.
She searched her friend’s face for any hint of the presence that had lurked behind her eyes, but there was nothing to be found.
Hekla shook her head. A cautious smile spread across her lips as she helped Silla to her feet.
“I think,” said Hekla, “I need a bath and a very long nap.”
Silla yawned in agreement.