No!
Rime was overcome by a desperate need for knowledge. He had to find out what he was dealing with. No matter the cost. If it could bleed, it could die.
He lifted his sword. Brought the blade down on the dead man’s leg. Through the thigh, just above the knee. The foot tipped sideways. Away from the rest of the body. Svarteld whispered his name, but Rime didn’t reply. He stared at the sword. It was clean. Dry and unbloodied. A pale red dust trickled from the stump. The wind caught it, drew it out of dead veins, and carried it across the ice.
She left for no reason.
Rime heard himself laugh. Quietly at first. Then louder. Joylessly, as if ridiculing anyone who had ever laughed.
Svarteld laid a hand on his shoulder. Black-clad warriors stared at him. Only their eyes could be seen behind their masks, but he could tell what they were thinking. They thought he’d lost his mind. But they didn’t understand.
The blind were back. She’d left for no reason. For good.
Rime gnashed his teeth and plunged his sword into the ice, cracking it in two. The sound rippled out across the frozen crust. Water welled up from underneath. Two sheets of ice. Two emotions.
Grief, because she was gone.
But also hope, depraved as it was. Hope because this proved the gateways were still open. The raven rings were alive.
THE KEY
Hirka sat in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, trying not to look at the creature standing in the shower. She focused on Stefan instead, who was cramming his things into a brown satchel. It was square, with pockets on the sides. The corners were almost worn through.
He looked over at her. “What? It does the job, all right?”
Hirka had no idea what he was talking about, so she kept quiet.
“I’ve had it for over ten years, and it puts up with just about anything. Real leather, see? They don’t make bags like this anymore, that’s all it is. I don’t have a sentimental bone in my body, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sentimental?”
“Nostalgic. Romantic. Soppy,” he said and continued packing as if he hated his clothes. “And it’s practical. Lots of pockets.”
“For all of your dark things,” she replied, looking at the glass table. His gun was lying there. And a folding knife. His phone, and some other things she didn’t recognize.
“Hey! Those dark things are the reason you’re still alive, so thank your lucky stars you’re not questioning my morals from the depths of hell.”
“Morals?”
“Right and wrong. That’s what you’re talking about, right?”
She pointed at his things. “I’m talking about color.”
“Oh … you mean black.” He dragged his hand over his face. Halfway through he winced and grabbed his elbow in pain. He kept forgetting about his injury.
He checked his phone again. “Christ, every second we stay here brings us one step closer to a prison cell,” he muttered. “You did say we’re in a hurry, right? Or did you fluff the translation and tell him to move in to the shower?”
She shook her head. He was so tense she was afraid he might crack. And he wasn’t the only one. If anyone were to come in at that moment, they’d take one look at them, turn tail, and run. Hirka wished she could run.
Stefan was a hunter. He’d spent his entire life hunting something he wasn’t sure existed, the source of a sickness he despised … and now it was in the shower washing raven blood out of its hair.
Naiell had refused to close the door. The blindling wanted to be able to see her the whole time. So there she sat, in the doorway. Caught between two men who both claimed they wanted what was best for her, but who wouldn’t let her be alone with the other. It was anything but reassuring.
“I’ve seen a lot of monsters in my time. But him? I’ve never seen anything like him,” Stefan said, looking at her. “Do you understand what I’m saying? A monster?”
“An outsider?”
“No, not an outsider. Well …” Stefan sighed. “Talking to you is pointless. You don’t have a clue what I’m saying.”
Hirka knew how he felt. She’d been where he was now. In a position where some things simply weren’t meant to exist. She’d also had to contend with her own incredulity the first time she saw one of the blind. It did something to you. Stefan had just discovered the difference between believing and knowing, and it changed everything.
At first she’d thought he’d take off. Run. From the blindling. From her. But Stefan had been hunting for too long to quit now. So there they were: three outsiders, brought together by circumstance. And perhaps by a number of other things she preferred not to think about.
It was dark outside. Out the window she saw the lights of the city. They were scattered everywhere, as if the stars had fallen from the sky. They’d smuggled Naiell through the streets in her raincoat, which had just about covered the most important bits. They’d kept to the alleyways to avoid people, but the lady at the front desk of the hotel had taken a good hard look at his bare legs.
“He’s not that different,” Hirka said. She could hear the doubt in her own voice. “He’ll look like everyone else if we get him some normal clothes. We can buy him some in the shop. They sell clothes everywhere here.”
“Oh, perfect. So you’re going out tomorrow, are you? To do a little shopping?” Stefan laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? How long do you think we have before they hear about the redhead who was living in the church? The girl who, oddly enough, is suddenly nowhere to be found? They’ll find a picture of you. And if they find you, they find me.”
Hirka pushed her feet against the doorframe. Wedged herself in the opening and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can leave whenever you like. I didn’t ask you to come with us. We’ll manage on our own.”
Stefan looked at her, on the verge of hysterics. “How can you trust him?! Have you looked at him? He’s not human, Hirka, don’t you get that?”
“So humans are the only ones who can be trusted?”
“You know what, I have no idea what’s going on in that head of yours, girl.” He shoved the gun into his belt. He kept it in a sheath. Like the one in her sock, the one she kept her knife in. It was a scary thought. She didn’t want to be anything like him.
“Then why don’t you leave?” she asked defiantly.
“Because he knows who I’m hunting. He knows where that bastard comes from. That wretched creature he calls Graal. It has a name. I mean, fuck me, it’s even got a family. They’re brothers, if you can believe a word he says. Brothers, can you imagine? I’ve never been this close. And even if I wanted to leave, do you really think he, or it—” he nodded in the direction of the bathroom “—would let me?”
Hirka didn’t answer. He was right. She hadn’t tried, but she was pretty sure Naiell wouldn’t simply let her up and leave. He wouldn’t even leave her alone with Stefan.
Suddenly Naiell was next to her. She gave a start. She tried to move, but then just sat there, staring up at his pale, dripping body. A puddle was forming on the white floor tiles. His claws were hanging right by her face.
Stefan unleashed a volley of words she was sure weren’t very nice. “Put some clothes on, for Christ’s sake! Here!” He chucked a bundle of clothes at the blindling. Naiell caught them and looked at Hirka. He smiled, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “He doesn’t like seeing me naked, this human,” he said smugly.
Hirka got up. “You don’t walk around naked in front of strangers. Not here, at least.”
Stefan secured the straps on his bag. “Tell him to put some clothes on. We have to get going. We can talk in the car.”
“What car?”
Stefan didn’t answer. Hirka was pretty sure that no matter what car he was talking about, it wasn’t his.
Stefan was driving way too fast. In a car he claimed they were just borrowing. There was a child’s mitten on the floor. Hirka had the feeling it was never going to see its owner again.
The snow flew at them in the dark, before being swept away by two sticks swinging back and forth across the glass. Hirka wasn’t feeling well. Stefan wiped the fog off the front window. She caught his eye in the mirror again. It was like he constantly had to check she and Naiell were still there. That he hadn’t simply imagined them. She knew the feeling. Nothing felt real here. At times she’d wondered whether she was dead. Whether she was in Slokna, dreaming. Being punished for all the things she’d done wrong. Ym was real, but this place was … she didn’t know.
Naiell was sitting next to her on the back seat. If he was scared of being in a car for the first time, he didn’t let on. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t. She wasn’t even sure whether the blind felt fear.
He was wearing the clothes he’d borrowed from Stefan. A white shirt that was too tight across his shoulders and too loose across his stomach. In his hands he held a pair of gloves and dark glasses that Stefan had bought at an all-night shop along the way. One of those places where they filled cars with petrol.
Gloves and glasses. That was all they had to conceal a deadborn if they were stopped. It was pathetic, really. A flimsy veil between what was real and what wasn’t. But sitting there next to her, Naiell was real enough. He had a familiar smell that set her at ease for some inexplicable reason. Which probably meant she could get used to just about anything.
Stefan held his phone to his ear. After a moment he started talking to someone. The words all slid together, so she didn’t understand much. Having been born here, he knew this world better than either of them, so the fact that he was nervous made her nervous.
“Is he damaged?” Naiell asked. She gave a start. Getting used to that voice wasn’t easy.
“Well, you nearly broke his arm.”
“No, I mean damaged.” Naiell tapped two fingers against his forehead.
“Oh—no, he’s talking on … it’s a telephone. He’s trying to get a hold of someone who can help us.”
Naiell made no attempt to hide his skepticism. “You’re sure this man is my brother’s enemy?”
Hirka looked at Stefan. Every time they were caught in the lights of another car, he stiffened. She didn’t know this man, but he was clearly taking a risk. Apparently for her sake. “Yes,” she replied. “He says he’s been hunting him for a long time. His entire life.”
“So not that long,” Naiell replied.
He enjoyed reminding her what he was. A proud deadborn. She felt a stab of jealousy. How had she reacted when she found out she was a child of Odin? She’d hidden in shame. Fled. Believed everything that was said about her. That she was something horrific.
And here she was, still being hunted. Why? What did they want with her? She had so many burning questions, but her fear of what the blindling might say left them smoldering on her tongue.
Instead, she asked somewhat timidly, “So who is he, your brother?” The black in Naiell’s eyes spread until it engulfed the white. Had she been able to, she’d have jumped out of the car.
“What do you fear more than anything, Sulni?” he said.
“That’s not—”
“That’s what I’m calling you. So what do you fear?”
She caught Stefan looking at her in the mirror again. He didn’t understand ymish, so she could speak freely. Finally. She could actually speak to someone in her own language and be understood. Someone else was on the outside now. Left to wonder. The feeling made it easier to find her words.
“People. I fear people. Men who take. Men who kill. Who think …” She hesitated, remembering her time in the pits of Eisvaldr. The weight of a man who intended to take her by force, pressing down on her. The darkness when she’d kneeled, blindfolded, before the Council. Her woollen tunic, soaked in her own blood. And Urd. Her futile attempts to reason with them had only led to one thing. Pain.
“I’m afraid of screaming at people who refuse to listen. People who lash out blindly. Wild animals who can’t be reasoned with. Full of hatred. Hatred is poison.”
Naiell leaned closer. “That’s Graal. That’s my brother.”
Hirka regretted asking. Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to. There wasn’t supposed to be blindlings here with the humans.
“Why did he have to come here of all places?” she mumbled.
“Do you like it here? Do you think this is a nice place?”
Hirka looked at the floor. “No.”
“The ymlings didn’t think so either, so they sent him here. This is his punishment.”
“For what?”
He looked at her. “Have you been living under a rock? Have you never heard a story in your life? He was punished when he lost the war.”
“So it’s true? That the Seer saved Ym from the bl—from you? From your people?”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, linking his hands behind his neck. “I’ve had so many uneventful days in my life, but that was not one of them, let me tell you.”
She felt like hitting him. She’d have given anything for an uneventful day, but she’d never had that option.
“But what does he want? Why is Graal sending people after me? I’m nobody, I’ve nothing to give him!”
“It must be nice to think that, but you’re mistaken. You can give him the one thing he desires.”
“What’s that? What does he want?”
Naiell looked at her. “Ym.”
The car suddenly felt too small. She leaned her head against the window. The cold seeped into her forehead. She stared outside, trying to fight down the nausea. But Naiell’s words had made it worse. He continued.
“Graal has done what they said could never be done. The stones were dead. In a thousand years, I haven’t seen so much as a fly pass through them. Until one day I recognized the scent of my own. Blood of the first, in Ym. And then suddenly you show up …”
Hirka shuddered, but she had to look at him. She was drawn toward the inevitable. Toward the truths he could offer her. The words that encompassed all that she was.
Tell me who I am.
He answered her silent plea. “Nothing passes through the raven rings without the Might, Sulni. Yet here you are. He’s done something to you. Given you traveler’s blood. You woke the raven rings, and now he needs you in order to use them.”
“He’s safe, then,” she whispered.
“He?”
“Them—I mean them. The people of Ym. If I’m here, they’re safe, right?”
The answer hung in the air between them, louder than if it had been spoken.
Safe. Until he finds me.
She swallowed. “What will happen if he gets his hands on me?”
“Well, he suffered a crushing defeat instead of what should have been his greatest triumph, so after a thousand years of shame and banishment, it’s reasonable to assume that he’s a little upset.” Naiell smiled, exposing his canines.
“So what are you going to do now? Are you going to save this world, too? From him?”
A snarling laugh escaped his throat. “This world is dying. A mightless place is powerless against my brother’s poison. It might take ten years, or a thousand, but there’s nothing anyone can do for this world.”
Hirka knew it was true. She’d known it from the moment she’d set foot in the human world. The water was disgusting. The soil contaminated. Nothing smelled the way it should. She’d come to a dying world.
An echo of Rime’s words came to her.
Everything dies. As sure as you’re alive right now. Nothing changes, Hirka. We’re torn apart and put back together, as something new. You’re the sky, you’re the earth, water, and fire. Living and dead. We’re all dead. Already dead.
She worried at her lip. It was all so much harder when she remembered the details. The creaking of his leather armor. His voice in her ear when he held her. So vivid it was eating away at her.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Naiell said. “There are far more important things than this world. The most important thing is to stop my b
rother’s poison. Stop the rot.”
There it was. The word she hadn’t heard in such a long time. It sounded uglier coming from the mouth of a deadborn.
“Does he get the humans to spread the rot?”
“The rot is not something they can give, it’s something they get. That is how much power lies in the blood of Umpiri.”
Hirka closed her eyes again. Sifted through her thoughts, without finding anything of much use. “But … I know that humans spread the rot! That’s what everyone says. That’s what the stories say. The song.” She grabbed him and started to hum. The girl and the rot. The lump in her throat grew, cutting the melody short.
He laughed again. “Do they still sing that song? How droll. It was born of fear, nothing more. I promise you, not a single human has existed with the power to spread the rot, Hirka.”
She noticed him use her name, but right then it meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. She felt her mouth pull into a grimace. She’d left Rime. He’d kissed her and she’d stopped him. For no reason. She wasn’t the rot. She never had been. And now it was too late.
She was nothing more than a weapon. Hunted by an ancient, deadborn warlord who wanted to destroy everything she loved.
Something inside her snapped. She pounded Naiell’s arm with her fist. He lifted it with a growl, but she hit him again. She tasted tears on her lips and hit him again and again. Deep down she knew it was senseless, and anyway, she was hitting like a child. At least that’s what Svarteld would have said.
Naiell grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she screamed. Stefan shouted. The car swerved and came to a sudden stop. She was flung against the seat in front.
“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?!” Stefan jumped out of the car and yanked open the back door. He dragged her outside. She fell onto the road. She tried to get up but slipped in the slush. Stefan held her back. She screamed at the blindling.
The Rot Page 11
