“Madra.” They bowed again and drew back to either side, allowing the carriages to pass.
The An-Elderin family home was one of the oldest in Eisvaldr. It was grand, but different than other houses behind the wall, as it was built of stone that retained its natural color and shape. It looked like what it was named for: a sleeping dragon.
Rime rode up through the orchard but kept doubling back to the carriages. He wanted to go on. Had to go on. But Ilume would expect him to accompany her inside. She would likely also expect him to stay the night, but that was not going to happen.
The coachman helped Ilume down from the carriage and woke the servants, who had already been asleep for hours. They led the horses and carriages to the stable. Ilume gave orders for them to wait until the following day to unpack. Then she went inside. Rime followed her.
They were greeted by old Prete, who hurried along the hall with an oil lamp in his hand. Though he had clearly been asleep, his tunic hung straight and unwrinkled on his lean frame. “Ilume-madra.”
He bowed and led them into the house. Prete updated Ilume on the household activities. His voice was low, but still echoed under the cavernous ceilings. Rime walked behind them and dimly registered that the furniture had been changed and the winter wing opened. He looked around the rooms he had grown up in and thought of Hirka. The cabin she lived in. He remembered how Thorrald had spoken to him. Openly, as though to a friend. Not someone’s son. Not a master of the house. The hearth, the smell of fish soup. A family of only two.
In the An-Elderin family home, nobody sat close together. It didn’t matter how many people lived here—Ilume, Rime, Uncle Dankan and all of his lot. The rooms were too big and too many. The floors too shiny. Rime turned as he caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. Just a mirror. An eye in the house. The An-Elderin family home had seen him. Had always seen him. Every moment of every day, since he first came into this world. This wasn’t a home; it was a place to be observed. A stage on which to be seen and adored.
Rime realized that he had been walking differently since he came in. His steps were shorter and stiffer. A memory forced itself upon him. He was five or six. Ilume teaching him to walk with his head held high. Forcing his chin up. A fingernail grazing his lip. The taste of blood. The memory faded as quickly as it had come.
Ilume stopped in the library and sent Prete back to bed. As vast as it was, the room seemed oppressive. Dark chairs upholstered with leather and floor-to-ceiling drapes absorbed what little light came from the lamps.
“You can take one of your old rooms until tomorrow.” Ilume took off her cloak and draped it over one of the chairs. A thin servant scooped it up and disappeared as quickly as she had come. Ilume sat down, and Rime noticed that she was using one arm to support herself. He recognized her subtle attempt to manipulate him into staying, but he didn’t take off his cloak.
“No.”
Ilume cleared her throat. He waited for her to say something, even if to suggest that it would be easier to continue on after daybreak. But she didn’t. It had been a long journey, and the tension between them had ebbed and flowed like the Might itself. Maybe she was more tired than he’d thought. Or angrier. For a moment he considered staying, but then he realized that had been the point of her remaining silent. She clearly wasn’t finished with him, though it was equally clear that she wouldn’t be saying anything more tonight.
“Good night, madra.” Rime left the room.
He waited until he was out of the house, and then he started to run. No carriage or horse could take him where he had to go. He ran up the wide shopping streets toward the Seer’s hall; a sheer white wall that rose before him. It sloped slightly inward, with thousands of narrow windows that had served as arrow slits in another time. His heart was racing. He nodded at the guardsmen at each of the gates he had to pass through. They nodded in return. Eisvaldr slept. But he was who he was, and he could go where he wanted.
Rime continued through the halls and out into the gardens on the other side of the intricate network of halls. He bowed in front of the Seer’s tower, the one place he had never been allowed to enter. It was reserved for the twelve. The Seer dwelled somewhere within. A thought as dizzying now as when he had been a boy. He walked past the tower, stopped, and took in the sight of Blindból. A thousand forest-clad mountains were poking up in the valley, extending as far as Rime could see. In the darkness they looked gray, but he knew they were actually a brilliant green. These gardens and the view of Blindból were reserved for those closest to the Seer. The beauty was inaccessible unless you lived or worked in Eisvaldr. But even so, many of those who worked here took great pains to avoid looking at Blindból. Cursed mountains. Forbidden mountains. From where it was believed the blind had come, all that time ago.
It was almost dawn. Rime left Eisvaldr and set out for those forbidden mountains, along paths long forgotten by most. Up and down cliffs and slopes, through sparse pine forests, and over rope bridges that disappeared into the fog ahead of him.
Soon he would glimpse the outline of the camp. His camp. It was wild and beautifully situated among the trees atop one of the mountains. Soon he would be home, among his own. Where he wasn’t Són-Rime, but simply himself.
Kolkagga.
THE WILD BOY
A sound woke Hirka. She jumped, but Kolkagga hadn’t come for her this morning either. It was just Kuro. The raven was strutting around, feathers askew. Hirka sat up too quickly, hitting her head on the rock ledge above. The pain shot from the base of her skull down into her shoulders. She rubbed them until it let up slightly. Her back ached from sleeping on the uneven ground, but she hadn’t had a choice. The rain had started in the evening, forcing her to take cover under the rocky outcrop. At least she was dry. She rolled up her jacket and crawled out of her hiding place.
It had stopped raining. The moss glittered with dew, and the mist was starting to retreat through the trees. Kuro flew up onto a branch and cawed irritably. If it hadn’t been for his lamenting, Hirka wouldn’t have been sure whether she was dead or alive. She had been walking through the dark spruce forest for so many days that she’d lost count. Seven? Eight? Always headed southeast. Toward Ravnhov. Her fear of Kolkagga kept her away from the roads, and away from people. The terrain was nearly impassable in many places. Like here. The forest floor was nothing but mossy stones. It would be all too easy to break an ankle. And what would she do then, all alone?
Father.
Every morning her heart sank when she remembered he was gone. Every evening she saw their cabin in flames. Everything they owned. Reduced to ashes. She’d broken the law by giving part of Father to the ravens, but for what? Had it really saved him? Nothing could save ordinary people from death. Father was in Slokna. Where everyone ended up sooner or later. Where everyone slept for eternity.
Everyone apart from people like Rime. They got to become one with the Might. A part of everything that was and everything that would be.
Rime.
She remembered his eyes blazing in the light from Father’s funeral pyre. A longing for the Might flared up in her, gnawing at her chest and taking her back to when he had held her outside the inn. She quickly tried to think about something else. She ate the last of the cured sausage and a few underripe blueberries she’d picked the day before. She couldn’t stay out here forever. She needed to get to Ravnhov.
Hirka climbed up onto the rock and surveyed the landscape. Hrafnfell. That was a sight to behold. She could see an opening through the trees to the south. That had to be the way to Ravnhov. If she stayed close to that, she’d probably be there before sunset. The ascent was difficult, and she didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. She’d figure something out. She’d have to.
Hirka climbed back down and filled her waterskin with rainwater from a bark trough she’d fashioned. Kuro fluttered down from his branch and stood on the rock, hoping to get something to eat. She stoppered her waterskin and looked at him.
“You’r
e on your own. You’ve eaten twice as much as me.”
Kuro didn’t reply. His feathers shone in all the colors of the rainbow. Everything was so simple for him. He could fly wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He had nothing to fear, and nothing holding him back. He was free.
Hirka suddenly realized nothing was holding her back either. She was painfully free to go wherever she wanted. Until she was caught. Or froze to death.
“What would I do without you?”
“Kooorp.”
“Exactly.”
Just as Hirka shouldered her bag and set off again, she heard a scream. She froze. She was used to sounds from the forest, but this was something else. Kolkagga! They’d found her. She couldn’t bring herself to look around. Her body wouldn’t cooperate. Her heart was in her mouth.
Fly! She shooed Kuro into the air and whirled around to face her enemy.
But no one was there. The danger was above her. An eagle! No black shadows. No mythical warriors pursuing her. Just a great eagle—with a wingspan wider than Hirka was tall.
As the winged monster came closer, she realized that it posed a very real threat. She tossed her bag aside and ducked down behind the rock, trying to make herself as small as possible. That was the wrong thing to do. The eagle zeroed in on her and drew its wings in, preparing to dive. Hirka jumped back up onto the rock and shrieked to deter it.
Kuro started flapping around it, cawing hysterically. “Arka! Arka! Arka!” The eagle snapped at the much smaller bird. Hirka shrieked for all she was worth, but the eagle had found its mark. It dove toward the raven with its beak wide open. Kuro was so small he would disappear down its gaping throat. There was nothing she could do!
“Kuro! Hedra!”
Kuro paused, flapping on the spot.
“Hedra! Hedra! Come here!” Kuro pulled his wings close to his body and plummeted toward her. The eagle didn’t manage to turn as quickly. It circled round and came for them again.
In the name of the Seer, hurry!
Kuro missed Hirka’s outstretched hand and flew straight into her chest. She wrapped her arms around him and turned her back to the enormous creature approaching them from the sky. She squeezed her eyes shut and crouched down. Something whizzed over her head. There was a thump. The eagle screeched just behind her. A piercing shriek of rage. What was happening? Hirka got up.
The eagle hopped around, confused, like it was sizing her up. Her hair was buffeted by the beating of its wings. A rock came flying through the air. It missed the eagle by a small margin, but came close enough to change its mind. It screeched again and disappeared over the treetops.
Hirka turned to see a man standing a short distance behind her on the slope. He was broad-chested and strong-armed, like Father, with brown hair sticking out in every direction. He was lightly dressed but had a jacket tied around his waist. Fur-lined sleeves protruded from where he had knotted it. He was carrying a bow and had a quiver of arrows on his back.
He came toward her and Hirka jumped reluctantly down from the rock. It felt like conceding an advantage, but he had helped her, after all. And he was the only ymling she’d seen in a week.
Ymling. Once again it struck her that she was a child of Odin. Not of Ym. She couldn’t even call herself an ymling. The most everyday word you could think of. The word for all people.
He stopped. Hirka got the impression he was waiting to see whether she would run.
“Who are you, girl?” His voice was young. He was a boy with a man’s body. Probably no more than two winters older than her. The question sounded like an accusation, but luckily he didn’t wait for an answer. “Are you training ravens?”
It occurred to her that, for the first time, Kuro had come on command. True, he’d had a very good reason for coming, but all the same. She let go of the raven so that he could fly free again. Joy blossomed in her chest, but she did her best to look nonchalant. If he thought she trained ravens, that was his problem.
“I’m training this one,” she replied, turning to pick up her bag, which had escaped the attack unscathed.
“You’re the tailless girl.”
Hirka whirled around to face him again. Her absent tail often came up when she met people brave enough to ask, but this time it didn’t sound like a question. He stared at her. Hirka searched his face for the usual pity, but all she could see was curiosity.
“Yes,” Hirka replied. “When I was little, some wolves attacked our—”
“Hundred northwest!” he suddenly shouted, without taking his eyes off her. Hirka heard a distant reply and more movement from the undergrowth.
“You’ve picked a bad time to be sneaking around in the forests, girl.”
A hunting party, then? And one that couldn’t tell the difference between travelers and targets? Hirka crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why? Do you get many two-legged elk around here?”
He looked at her as if she were an idiot. “Have you been living under a rock for the last year? No one travels to Ravnhov through the forests anymore.” He pointed between the trees. “Walk up that way until you get to the rock face, then follow it south until you’re on the road.” He looked her up and down. “Friends of Ravnhov need not fear the road,” he added. Hirka wasn’t sure whether he was reassuring her or warning her, but before she could say anything, he turned and left.
Hirka stood bewildered next to the rock and watched him disappear between the trees. She opened her mouth to shout her thanks, but closed it again. She spotted one of the rocks that he had thrown at the eagle. Why throw rocks when you have arrows?
Hirka started her ascent. Kuro landed on her shoulder with a flap of his wings. Her woollen tunic didn’t do much to protect her from his sharp talons, but it was nothing she couldn’t tolerate. He’d come to her when she called. Her lingering fear gave way to wonder. Kuro was no longer just a raven who hung around scrounging honey bread. He was like her, an outsider, and even though they were two fundamentally different creatures, they had communicated with each other. Only one word, but it was a start. If she and the raven could understand each other, perhaps ymlings and emblings could as well.
After a while, she arrived at a vertical rock face, as the boy had said she would. Solid and gray with seams of white running through it. She followed it south. What had he meant by friends needn’t fear the road? How could he know she was hiding?
Because you were picking your way through the forest like an idiot.
The trees thinned out, and Hirka climbed out onto the road to Ravnhov.
THE RAVEN’S BROOD
The road twisted up the mountain in gentle turns toward Ravnhov. Hirka walked with her shoulders hunched, feeling exposed and observed. Anyone could be sitting in the trees, watching her. Riders could appear behind her at any moment.
For the first couple of hours she jumped behind a tree every time she heard a noise. But then she reached the felled road marker: a stone pillar that would have been taller than her had it still been standing. It lay at the edge of the forest, cracked in half and overgrown with moss. The mark of the Seer was almost worn away. These road markers were all over the eleven kingdoms. Wherever there were people, there were road markers. This one had probably succumbed during a particularly snowy winter a long time ago. Or been toppled. The strange thing was that nobody had put it up again. She had reached a place where the Council no longer had sole dominion. After that she had stuck to the road. Maybe also because she was getting hungrier and hungrier. Not much else mattered when all you needed was something to eat.
Later in the day several carts trundled past. She pulled up her hood and walked close to the trees, with what she hoped looked like purposeful steps. She gave no indication of wanting a ride, and nobody stopped or asked.
Along the way she also saw men among the trees, building a log wall halfway up the mountainside. She had no idea what it was for. But it meant that she was getting close to Ravnhov. Who would she meet there, and what would she say to them? Other than
she was being hunted? A tailless girl on the run from the Council …
Evening drew in and the air was cooler. The slope grew steeper, and the trees more crooked. Hirka rounded a bend and saw an enormous stone wall some distance ahead of her. It extended from the mountainside, across the road, and into the forest. Stones of all shapes and sizes were firmly lodged in a mud-colored foundation. Two wooden poles supported a gate made of uncut logs.
Up on the wall, three men were talking loudly. One sat with his feet on the outside, picking rust off the hinges of the gate with a spear. Hirka stopped. They had swords, and the leather armor on their chests was worn. Warriors. Gatekeepers of Ravnhov. She reminded herself that she hadn’t done anything wrong. At least not as far as they knew.
The wall seemed to grow bigger the closer she got. Rough weather had worn the stones smooth, but never managed to shake the barrier. Behind these walls she would be safe. If she even made it in. She couldn’t see any doors in the large gate, and she couldn’t bring herself to knock. That would be stupid.
Hirka looked up. The man who was sitting with his foot dangling over the edge had seen her, but he continued cleaning the hinges with what Hirka now realized was an angled scraper, presumably designed solely for this purpose. It grated against the metal. Flakes of grit and rust drifted down toward her, settling at her feet.
“How does it look from down there? Much rust left?” The voice was deep and Hirka involuntarily jumped back a step.
“Are you talking to me?”
The man above her stopped scraping and looked at her. He had eyebrows that had nearly grown together. “No, I’m talking to your wits, which you seem to have dropped.”
“Those must be yours. Mine are in my bag,” she replied, before realizing that provoking the people who would decide whether she was allowed in might not be the cleverest move. But he laughed, and looked over at his fellows, who had been following along.
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