Chapter 21 #2
Green and gold minerals glinted in the cave’s walls as they ventured deeper into Brími, the floor beneath them growing ever warmer. At last, the caves widened into a circular space.
“What is this?” Silla asked, breathless.
The space was a strange mixture of natural and human-made.
Curious puddling rocks and icicle-like protrusions were interspersed with angular stairs and curved, vaulted ceilings.
Arched doorways were chiseled into the walls, and as Silla ducked her head through one, she found an alcove large enough for a family to sleep.
Her eyes traced a stone-carved bench, and she guessed these were primitive homes.
“In ancient times,” said Tala, drawing Silla’s attention back to the central cavernous space, “Kopa was the beating heart of íseldur.” Lady Tala slid her torch into a slot in the wall, and Ingvarr and his guards did the same.
“These caves provided a refuge from the hard rains of the spring and the brutal cold of winter. Here, Eisa, you can see the drawings of our ancestors.”
As the last of the guards slotted his torch, bright light spilled across the cavern walls. Silla gasped. Shapes and figures were painted from floor to ceiling. Silla wandered closer to examine a simple line drawing of a prowed ship. “Our ancestors drew these?”
“We believe so,” replied Tala. “You can see the paintings are simple to start, but as you progress through the cave, the stories grow more detailed.”
Silla moved along the wall and saw that Tala was correct. Ornate, scrolling knotwork grew more common a few steps later, symbols and line drawings morphing into elaborate scenes.
“Before the Weavers existed, our ancestors carved their history into the stones. These caves are a secret long held by Jarl Hakon’s line. Protected from the Urkans upon their invasion.”
Silla could see why. The story of the Ashen was depicted in one scene.
Myrkur stealing Malla, Marra, and Stjarna into the darkness of night.
Sunnvald growing so angry, He shook the skies.
Stardust falling down upon íseldur, landing on the trees, the rocks, the creatures, and imbuing them with magical qualities.
Her gaze slid to a new scene, showcasing the classes of Galdra.
Ashbringers wielding fire and Blade Breakers great strength, a Weaver standing before a loom.
Silla studied what had to be a Shadow Hound, reflecting sun on a curious-looking shield of light, then tracked to a lone, crowned figure.
The king clutched a stone in one hand, an axe in the other.
Brows furrowing, Silla stared harder. The king faced off against a figure of shadows, unnatural creatures crowding around.
But the king faced Him all alone as the sun shone down upon him.
The shadowy figure bore an uncanny resemblance to the Myrkur that Silla had seen making a bargain with King Hrolf and her mother.
But who was this man facing the god of chaos alone?
Was it a Volsik King? Her heart quickened.
Could this mural reveal a clue to the mysterious weapon the Volsiks were said to wield against Myrkur?
Her eyes traced the scene once, twice, three times, but there were no easy answers to be found.
With a disappointed breath, Silla made to move on. But her gaze snagged on one particular detail—the stone clutched in the king’s hand.
“Is that stone blue?”
“Mmm?” Lady Tala appeared at her side. “The stone? Oh yes, that’s a halda stone.”
“Halda.” Silla’s mind yanked this way and that, a dozen thoughts colliding at once. “Like the halda tattoos for storing galdur?”
“Aye. When ground into a powder, the stones can serve as a reservoir—”
“But in their natural form?”
She felt Tala’s curious gaze on her. “In their natural form, they…well, they’re stones, Eisa. Without a mind, they cannot harness any galdur that may naturally lie within.”
Silla’s skin buzzed with excitement, though she was not precisely sure why. “But the stones have a source, I’m certain Harpa told me so. Natural galdur must lie within the stones.”
“Might I ask what you’re thinking, Your Highness?” Lady Tala watched her curiously.
Mind racing, Silla glanced at Tala. “Why is that king holding on to a stone? Why would he have a weapon in one hand and a stone in the other?”
“I’m afraid I do not know.”
Her heart hammered with excitement, answers sliding into place. Blade Breaker, Skraeda had called her, when Silla had thrown her across the room. But Silla had never reproduced the burst of strength, not even with Vig and Harpa’s help back in Kalasgarde.
In her mind’s eye, Silla saw herself shoving Rey across the field after he’d let the vampire deer attack her. Her hands had fizzed with a burst of energy she hadn’t understood. There had been bedrock there, exposed to daylight. Had there been blue minerals threaded into the stone?
The scene shifted, Skraeda’s copper braids flying as she collided with a woven room divider. Skeggagrim’s home was hewn from stone. And when she closed her eyes, Silla saw the glint of blue minerals in the walls.
She stared at the king—at the blue rock clutched in his palm.
She hadn’t been able to produce Blade Breaker strength in Kalasgarde because she did not possess the ability.
Whatever power Silla had wielded against Rey in that field could not have come from a regular source of magic—for they’d have been blocked at the time by the skjold leaves.
It is said the Volsiks carry an additional blessing from Sunnvald. A gift with which to defeat Myrkur, Harpa had told her back in Kalasgarde. Could Sunnvald’s additional blessing—the one that had the power to defeat Myrkur—have allowed her to unwittingly pull galdur from halda stones?
There was only one way to find out. Silla whirled, striding from the caves with new vigor.
“Your Highness?” asked Tala, falling into stride beside her.
“I’m craving some fresh air, Tala,” said Silla. “I think I shall take Dawn for a ride.”