by Kat Ross
“Take the baldric, too.”
Nazafareen picked up the leather sheath. In contrast to Ygraine’s jeweled belt, it was unadorned, with nicks and scratches from long use.
“It’s worn over the shoulder,” Culach explained, demonstrating. “Like so.”
She sheathed the blade and slid the baldric over her arm, feeling the weight against her right side. It fit perfectly. She looked at Culach, overcome by this gift he had given her and determined to be worthy of it.
“Come with us,” she urged.
“I’m not fit for battle anymore.” He said it with resignation. “I would only be a hindrance. Besides which, Galen’s mother Mina is here and we’re … fond of each other. I must find her and tell her everything. The choice of where we go will be hers.”
“Oh, I see.” Galen’s mother? Truly, there had been some strange goings on at Val Moraine. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll get assurances from the other Valkirins that you and Mina have safe passage from the keep.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I must go now, Culach.”
He nodded. “I’ll escort you out.”
She picked up the lumen crystal from the rock ledge and they made their way back toward the upper levels.
“Tell Mina I will do everything I can to free Galen. Tell her I forgive him for what he did.” This wasn’t entirely true, but Nazafareen resolved to set aside her grievances against Galen—for the moment, at least. Seeing Victor had been an object lesson about where clinging to grudges could lead a person.
“She’ll be glad to know that.” He paused. “Though I wonder if her people will be so forgiving of me.”
Nazafareen detected a note of worry in his voice and felt sorry for Culach. He didn’t belong to any clan now, in a world where blood ties meant everything. An idea formed in her mind.
“You could always go to Meb of the Marakai. She’s young, but I know she would welcome you. You’d be safe with the sea clan.”
“She’s the heir to the power?”
“Yes. She’s in the Isles, meeting with the Five. Can an abbadax fly that far?”
He considered it for a moment. “Perhaps. I’ll keep it mind.”
They reached the door to the stables. Nazafareen looked up at him, taking in the winding scar and crystalline eyes, still a bit mesmerizing even without sight.
“Goodbye, Culach. I hope you and Mina find happiness together. And I will carry Ygraine’s memory with me.”
He nodded stoically and Nazafareen rose to her tiptoes and hugged him around the waist. He patted the top of her head, awkward but with a foolish grin. Then his face grew solemn.
“Be careful, Nazafareen.” Culach paused, as though searching for words. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “There are things worth dying for, but hatred isn’t one of them. Try to remember that.”
“Yes, of course. I will. Goodbye, Culach!” she cried again and ran through the door, past the silent abbadax, to where Katrin waited with their mount. She stared hard at Nazafareen’s new sword, mouth tight, but said nothing. And then another Valkirin appeared out of the shadows of the pen. He looked thin, almost wasted, and had straight silver hair that brushed his shoulders. A heavy iron collar ringed his neck.
Her mind instantly conjured up the image of Darius, chained and screaming as a faceless woman stood over him. Nazafareen tore her eyes away, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. An abbadax slunk along at the Valkirin’s side.
“My name is Daníel,” he said. He seemed wary. “Mithre says I’m free to leave.”
“Of course you are.” She smiled warmly, hoping he hadn’t sensed her revulsion. “And I’m Nazafareen.”
He laid a gentle hand on the abbadax’s beak. “She is Valdis, but she calls herself Wind from the North.”
The abbadax nuzzled his palm.
“Let’s go,” Katrin grumbled, throwing herself into the saddle. “The holdfasts have waited long enough.” She cast a final dark glance at Nemesis and turned away with the offended posture of a stepped-on cat.
Nazafareen fastened her harness with less trouble this time around and a minute later the pair of abbadax soared across the chasm between the ice tunnel and the Valkirin encampment. Runar, Stefán and Frida waited on the other side, Darius kneeling at their feet. Kallisto, Herodotus, Megaera and Rhea stood in a tight group a few paces away.
And beyond them, on similar snowy ledges, hundreds of hooded figures watched in silence. Nazafareen felt the weight of their eyes as she slid from the saddle and took the diamond from her pocket, holding up the chain so they could see it. She pointed her stump at Darius.
“Release him this instant or I throw it into the crevasse.”
Runar and Stefán stared hungrily at the talisman. Frida rushed to embrace Daníel, a radiant smile on her face. She pressed her cheek against his coat and murmured words too low to make out. Daníel held her for a moment, but his gaze remained on Nazafareen.
“Do it,” he snapped at Runar and Stefán.
The invisible bonds restraining Darius vanished. He stood gracefully, as if he hadn’t been on his knees for hours. The bruises on his face had already faded to a greenish yellow and the swelling was nearly gone. Daēva blood healed quickly. As he strode to her side, she saw a quick narrowing of his eyes. He’d noticed Daníel’s collar.
Nazafareen wanted to squeeze him until his bones ached, but she had other business to attend to first.
Stefán held out a hand. “Give it over.”
“In a minute.” She tilted her head. “I have new terms. You must also grant safe passage to Culach Kafsnjór.”
He frowned. “That’s a Valkirin matter.”
She walked up to him, the snow crunching beneath her boots. Stefán crossed his arms and peered down his long, patrician nose. A number of choice comments occurred to her, but Nazafareen bit them back.
She spoke loudly so her words would carry. “Gerda Kafsnjór had a Talisman of Seeking. I just used it to speak with the Pythia. She’s a Vatra.”
Stefán blinked. “What?”
“She has the Danai talisman and she’ll burn him and his kin if I don’t get there first. So my patience for petty grudges is running thin at the moment.”
Daníel stared at her in disbelief. “The Oracle? How can this be? She despises us.”
“Yes, but not for the reasons you think. She’s using the mortals, poisoning them against the clans. Her intention is to bring down the Gale. That is the end she’s been working towards. But she no longer cares about subterfuge. She will come into the open soon enough.”
Nazafareen turned to the others. Runar stroked his thick beard, brow creased in thought. Stefán’s face gave little away, though she saw a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“I need abbadax,” she said. “We fly for the Gale. The Danai in the keep are coming as well.”
“And the Maenads,” Kallisto added. “We have long stood against the Pythia. If she is a Vatra, then she is our enemy twice over.” She shook her grey-streaked braids in disgust. “I cannot believe she was under our noses the entire time. If she has shown herself, it is because her goal is in sight. She thinks she has already won. But she shall not have the Danai talisman!”
Megaera nodded, clearly impatient to be gone. Herodotus scribbled furiously on a scrap of parchment. Rhea leaned on her staff, her gaze fixed on Katrin. Rhea had a quick intellect. She understood.
“Katrin Aigirsdottir,” Nazafareen said.
The Valkirin woman turned slowly to face her.
“What will your choice be? If you come to Solis, I will break the ward that binds your power.”
Katrin raised her chin. “I will go.”
Nazafareen felt the knot of tension in her gut ease somewhat.
“But I do not promise to stay,” Katrin added. “My place is here.”
Runar nodded approvingly.
“How generous of you,” Nazafareen muttered. “I’m sure your ancestor, the one who stood with the other clans to face the Vatras and turn them back, would b
e proud.”
Katrin opened her mouth for an angry retort. Stefán laid a restraining hand on her arm.
“You claim the Oracle is a Vatra,” he said. “Perhaps it is true. But we must sort out the disposition of Val Moraine before taking any action. You’re free to go.” His lips thinned. “But we can’t spare any mounts—”
“They can ride with Val Tourmaline,” Daníel interrupted. “Frida, you’re in charge until I return.”
“You would go to Delphi?” Runar demanded in astonishment. His gaze flicked to the collar. “After she chained you like a beast?”
“Of course,” Daníel snapped. “As you should too.” His lip curled. “Is it pride or cowardice that makes you abandon the forest clan to their fate?”
Runar turned beet red. Everyone started shouting at once.
Darius leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Who’s the Danai talisman?”
She gave him a dark look.
“Who?”
“Galen.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope.”
Nazafareen raised two fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. The hubbub died down. They all turned to glare at her.
“I don’t care what you do, but we have no time for this.” She held up the diamond. “Give me your word you won’t harm Culach once Victor has ceded the keep.” She eyed Stefán’s cunning features and Runar’s barely controlled fury. The fox and the bear. “Swear it on the staff.”
Daníel did so on behalf of Val Tourmaline without hesitation. Runar and Stefán followed suit, though with ill humor.
“Good,” she said. “Here you go.”
She tossed the diamond into the air. Runar and Stefán scrambled for it, elbowing each other like children fighting over a piece of candy. In the end, Runar’s meaty fist caught it. He grinned with broken teeth.
“When the ice spell is broken, you should get rid of that,” Nazafareen said, knowing they wouldn’t. “The talisman has an evil influence.”
Runar held up the diamond. The facets caught the moonlight, reflecting it back in a dazzling prism of colors.
“Det som goms i sno, kommer fram vid to!” he cried.
Later, she would ask Herodotus what it meant. An old Valkirin proverb, he said.
What is hidden in snow is revealed at thaw.
The stone emitted a sudden burst of white light. Nazafareen threw a hand over her eyes, wincing at the afterimage, like a dark sun flaring against the Aurora. When the blinding brilliance began to fade, she peered through her fingers. A thin line fractured the girdle of ice surrounding the Maiden Keep, just to the left of the tunnel. Runar let his hand fall. A palpable current of anticipation rippled through the Valkirins.
For one long minute, nothing else happened. Then the silence was broken by a series of ear-splitting cracks as the entire carapace broke away and tumbled into the ravine. It seemed to fall in slow motion, shattering against the lower slopes with explosive force. The reverberations triggered avalanches across the glacier, but the Valkirins threw up shields of air to divert the thundering masses of snow.
For the first time, Nazafareen saw the mighty holdfast. To her astonishment, it had almost no exterior walls. She could see straight inside through a series of tall archways. The Danai were gathered in the stables, far fewer than she’d expected. She heard the distant cries of abbadax and two dozen riderless mounts soared out. They banked and alit on the snowy ledge, flanks heaving. The creatures looked exhausted from the short flight. They huddled together, their feathers dull and ragged.
Daníel eyed them with pity. “These mounts were Eirik’s. They have no masters anymore,” he said to Runar. “You can keep them, to replace those we’ll take. But you must treat them well. No riders for at least a week, and they must be fed every few hours.”
Even Runar seemed moved by the creatures’ plight. He nodded gruffly and shouted for fresh meat. The skies came alive with Valkirin riders as the watchers on the ledges made for the holdfast.
Only one abbadax remained in the stables. It peered over the edge, then retreated back into the shadows.
“Ragnhildur,” Katrin said softly. “Loyal to the last. She’ll never leave without Culach.”
Nazafareen stared at the stables, willing him to appear with Mina. She’d feel better knowing they were safely gone before she departed. But she saw only Danai, moving back to make way for the riders.
Then Darius took her hand, pulling her aside to the privacy of a rock outcropping, and Culach left her mind as she wrapped her arms into the hollow of his strong back, breathing in his smell, like clean wool and a moonlit forest glade and just him. She hadn’t allowed herself to imagine what might have happened if things turned out differently. But now that Darius was safe, she fought to keep herself from trembling.
“You have a new blade,” he murmured in her ear, hands moving over the baldric.
“Culach gave it to me. It was his mother’s.”
Darius lowered his mouth, a delicious heat in his gaze, and kissed her thoroughly. “So you entered his worst enemy and emerged with his dear mother’s sword. Considering your usual style, I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“It’s called Nemesis. It’s a…” She tried to pronounce the word as Culach had. “Zee-fon.”
His eyes danced with amusement. “You can’t lose this one, Nazafareen.”
“I won’t.” She grew sober. “He told me things, Darius. Troubling things about the Vatras. I don’t know what they mean.”
“Try me.”
So she did, relating Culach’s dreams of Farrumohr.
“They called him the Viper. He’s dead. Culach said so, and I’m sure of it because I saw him in the Dominion. He was Neblis’s pet. Or perhaps it was the other way around.” A trickle of ice ran up her spine. “He lived in a well. He had no flesh, more like thickened shadows. But there were two pinpoints of flame….”
“Do you think he’s making mischief?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I hurt him when I cast him out. But how he might be connected with Nicodemus and the Pythia, I’ve no idea.”
“You spoke with her.”
“She knew my name. She seemed unafraid.” Nazafareen took his hand. “You were right. We should have gone straight to the Danai. I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head impatiently. “So she’ll hold them hostage and force you to break Galen’s ward?”
“That’s what she implied. But there must be more to it. She knows something we don’t. The woman was serene. Confident. She gave me a day to get to the Gale. I feel a fool running into her trap, but what choice do we have?” She scowled. “If only Katrin wasn’t such a you-know-what. It rhymes with hunt and I’m guessing it starts with a k.”
Darius had fallen quiet. His thoughts seemed far away. “We have to reach the Danai first. At least they have Charis and Cyrene.”
“Of course. I’d clean forgot.” Nazafareen closed her eyes. They felt heavy as lead. She needed time to think. She needed sleep. But neither of those things were likely for the foreseeable future. Then her fingers brushed the lump in her pocket. “We have another globe. Culach let me keep it.”
Darius reached for the talisman, but she’d already ignited the runes, seeking Delilah. He blinked in surprise, then leaned in to study the twilit scene.
“Where are they, Darius? It must be the Umbra, but where exactly?”
Delilah strode along next to Tethys and six other women, all with dark hair and ageless faces. Arrayed behind them was a host of daēvas armed with yew bows. Each of the Houses carried its own banner—a bat for Fiala, a firefly for Granet, a striped badger for Dessarian, a screech owl for Kaland, two muskrats for Martinec, a bushy-tailed fox for Suchy, and a sprig of lyreleaf for Baradel. Nazafareen couldn’t see either of the Maenads, though they must be somewhere in the ranks.
“Pull back a bit.”
Nazafareen widened the view. Her heart sank. The plain was barren and featureless.
“Look at
the quality of the light,” he said. “It’s still dark, yet not completely. I’d put them somewhere in the middle. And do you see that glint? It’s the Cimmerian Sea.”
“So if we fly along the shoreline, we might be able to intercept them. How many leagues to the Umbra?”
“Less than two hundred. The wind currents blow east to west so they’ll be with us. The abbadax should make good time, but it will be close—very close. And if the Danai start running, we’re done for.”
She let the flows vanish. “There’s a chance then.”
Daníel had left to supervise the evacuation and ensure no one decided to settle any blood feuds on the spot. They watched his riders ferry the Danai across the ravine from Val Moraine. All seven of them. Nazafareen didn’t know how large Victor’s original force was, but their numbers had clearly been winnowed.
Victor and Mithre were not among them. Nazafareen had hoped to spare Darius the full story, but she saw no way around it now. He scanned the stables with worried eyes.
“Your father,” she began, choosing her words with care. “He isn’t well.”
Darius looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“The diamond.” Nazafareen rubbed her stump. “He didn’t want to give it to me,” she mumbled.
“He what?”
She cleared her throat. “He didn’t want to give it up. I had to take it from. At sword-point.”
Hurt flashed across his face, there and gone in an instant.
“That sounds like Victor,” Darius said coldly. “Death before defeat.”
“You don’t understand. He said it was a Valkirin trick. That we were traitors. He looked awful, Darius. All mean and pinched. Mithre told me he’s been like that for a while. It must be the diamond. He wore it on a chain around his neck. Howled like a baby when I took it away.” She glanced at Runar and Stefán. “Those idiots wouldn’t listen, but the talisman is poison.” She sighed. “He ran off afterwards. I don’t know where he went. But Mithre will find him. There’s only one way out.”
The riders from Val Tourmaline alit with their Danai passengers. Nazafareen knew two of them by name, Aedan and Kelyn, and embraced them warmly.
“Thought I’d never bloody get out of there,” Aedan said, shaking his head. He was as tall as Victor but barely half his bulk, with long arms and legs well-suited to the sword he wore belted around his waist.
