by Bec McMaster
"Trolls?" he said incredulously.
Thunder grumbled in the distance.
"What? You can believe in dragons and dreki, and wyrms and kraken, but you don't think trolls actually exist?"
"I just—" He seemed taken aback. "I've never seen...."
"Well, no. I doubt you would have. They cannot walk under the sun, and they prefer isolated places, rather than those close to mankind. Humans rarely see them, though if a farmer goes missing, or a traveler vanishes on the road, one assumes.... There used to be more of them, but the rise of the church in this land has driven them away. They don't like church bells for some reason."
"What do we do?"
"They're moving slowly, trying to take us unaware, but they can run fast when they want to."She bit her lip. "Dreki and trolls do not go well together. My people call them Destroyers of the Storm-sun, and they are afraid of lightning, thanks to us."
"So they'll leave us alone?"
"They eat men," she muttered, casting him a look. "And if there are enough of them, they may attempt to attack us, if they see me in my mortal form."
Haakon peered out of the cave. "I think I've seen at least three shapes moving."
"Then we should perhaps consider leaving ourselves." The rain had lessened, though the sun was still hours away. "We don't want to find ourselves trapped in here, and our swords will do nothing but break on their skins."
"How do you kill them?"
"You don't," she said, heading for the horses. "Fire might drive them away, but I doubt anything will burn right now. I could strike them with lightning, if I wasn't wearing this cursed manacle, but unless you can make the sun rise swiftly, we don't have a lot of options. Are you coming?"
"Damn it," he muttered, following her. "I'd just dried out too."
It was a slow chase, with Haakon and Árdís slipping and sliding down the mountain with the horses. The rain was merely a fine mist now, but Árdís squealed as her feet went out from under her and she landed on her backside.
Haakon grabbed her before she could vanish off the side of the mountain, his fingers probably hurting her, he was squeezing her so tightly. He helped her to her feet, heart racing. "Be careful."
"Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was walking. They're getting closer," she whispered. "I think they're starting to gather their courage to attack."
Haakon cursed under his breath. "Down there," he said, pointing to a valley filled with a low-lying miasma of steam. "I can see mud bubbling, and smell the sulfur. If we can pick our way through the mud pools, then they can't rush us."
"That's your brilliant idea? They can't come at us, but what if we trap ourselves? We can't run either."
"Running out of options," he said sharply. "As you've pointed out, I can't make the sun rise."
Árdís hissed under her breath. "Curse this stupid damned bracelet. I hate feeling so helpless."
"Welcome to the mortal world," he snapped, guilt stirring through him. "Not all of us can fly our way to safety, or strike our enemies with lightning."
Árdís glared at him, and his blood rushed through his veins. "I cannot help being what I am."
"And neither can I!"
He pushed her forward, hovering close enough to grab her if she fell again. She was dreki, and he only a man. The difference between them wasn't insurmountable, but then she'd left him and he still didn't know why.
Árdís marched with stiff steps, her spine straight.
Damn it. Haakon raked a hand through his damp hair. She wasn't the only one who felt trapped or helpless. What sort of man was he if he couldn't save her? His gut knotted up tight. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I don't like feeling like I can't protect you."
It was worse since she'd vanished.
And now to have her back within arm's reach, but in danger?
The very thought churned within him.
"Apology accepted." Another couple of stiff-legged steps. Her shoulders slumped, and her voice softened. "If it is any consolation, I know exactly how you feel. I would do anything to save you from harm."
It wasn't as if she could kick his pride any harder. "You don't have to protect me, Princess."
Árdís glanced at him, and for the first time he felt like all her defenses were lowered. There was something in her eyes—pain, sadness, even perhaps a hint of longing—that made him catch his breath. He felt like he was on the verge of discovering her deepest, darkest secrets. Her soul.
Then her gaze shuttered. "What sort of dreki would I be if I didn't protect you? I dragged you into this mess. I will get you out of it, no matter what I must do."
"Árdís—"
She shook her head. "Not now. We both need to focus. We're here, and while I could survive a mud bath, I daresay it would melt the flesh from your bones."
They'd reached the bottom of the valley. Steam rose off the ground, creeping from open vents. Haakon took the lead, picking a path between the patches of bubbling mud. Behind them a loud deliberate grunting suddenly echoed through the canyon, and all the hairs on the back of his neck lifted.
"You watch your feet," Árdís called. "I'll keep an eye behind us. They've paused at the edge for now."
The scent of sulfur made his nose curl. Every sense felt stronger and more focused. He could barely see, but the mud gleamed a different color to solid ground. Despite the rain, the underground heat seemed to have baked the moisture out of the clay where the track meandered between mud pools.
"Oh, no," Árdís whispered, when they were almost all the way across the field of mud pools.
Oh, no? He looked behind him sharply.
"There's a reason those trolls haven't followed us." She turned in slow circles. "He's here somewhere. I can smell him."
No questioning who she meant.
He Who Should Not Be Woken.
"How the hell can you smell anything?" A bubble of mud popped with a splat nearby. "Apart from sulfur, I mean? Perhaps we should move a little quicker?"
Snorri gave a nervous whicker, dancing on his toes and straining at the lead that tied him to Sleipnir's saddle. The whites of his eyes showed.
"I can't see him." Árdís pressed a hand to her head. "But I can feel him." She winced. "Damn it. He's in my head."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know." Her teeth ground together. "It's all I can do to push him out. But he's aware of us."
The terrain ahead was far too treacherous, but there were trolls behind them, and a dreki who even other dreki feared somewhere nearby. Not a lot of options. Haakon picked out a path through the bubbling mud pools with his eyes. "There," he said, pointing to the ridge in front of them. "Hurry. I'd prefer not to make his acquaintance."
Moving forward, he picked his way between mud pools and made it to the base of the cliff.
The horses began to snort, and Haakon reeled in Sleipnir's reins, holding them in a fist just beneath the stallion's muzzle. Sleipnir's ears flickered, and he made a muffled whumpf sound, his nostrils flaring in a snort.
"Nothing to be frightened of," Haakon murmured, stroking the stallion's soft muzzle.
"They can smell him too."
A curious thought occurred. "The same way all the animals on my farm knew what you were?" Well before he did, it seemed.
Árdís nodded, her eyes searching the landscape as she grabbed Snorri's reins and added her weight to the reluctant little beast's head.
If the horses bolted, they'd drown in a pool of hot mud, or break a leg. Damn it. Haakon used his shoulder to push the flighty stallion onto the narrow path along the side of the cliff. If Sleipnir behaved, Snorri might too.
"Are you all right?" he called back, pausing by a particularly craggy cliff. Steam made it difficult to see properly. "Can you handle Snorri?"
"Suddenly he's my best friend," she shot back. "Better the dreki you know, it seems."
An enormous golden eye blinked open, right beside him.
Haakon swore as Sleipnir shied away. He was suddenly battling both a terri
fied stallion and trying to draw his sword at the same time, even as his balls clenched tightly. Fuck.
Not a mountain. Not a cliff.
But a dreki blending into the slope as if its rough-hewn body was partly made of stone.
Haakon jerked back, lifting his sword as he shoved Sleipnir behind him. Gravel scattered under his boots. "Árdís?"
"No!" she cried, snatching at his hand and forcing it to lower. "You cannot challenge him!"
Probably correct. The mountainside shivered and shifted, enormous bat-like wings heaving as the dreki's head lifted from its front paws. The ground shook beneath his feet, and it was all he could do to remain standing. The heat drained from his face as the dreki turned its head and hissed at them.
Sleipnir screamed, and reared up on his hind legs.
"Down!" Somehow he hauled the horse's head low. "Come on, boy. Easy. Easy."
A chuckling rumble shivered through the air. "You've brought me a worthy dinner, little man."
Sleipnir slammed into him, and Haakon went down flat on his back in the middle of the narrow track as the stallion galloped past him, bucking and kicking. Árdís screamed and then Snorri was following, narrowly missing Haakon's hand, but delivering a fierce kick to his ribs.
He flipped onto his hands, watching them race up the cliff path. They reached the crest.
Which made two of them.
"What the bloody hell is that thing?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. The blow had winded him.
It was four times the size of Rurik. He doubted its wings could even lift it into the air anymore, and a swift glance showed calcified stretches of granite and gravel along its wing-spars. His sword lay on the ground, but was there any point in grabbing it?
How could you kill a mountain?
How could you pierce a hide made of solid stone scales?
"A pity," growled the dreki, in a voice like thunder. Its head turned toward Haakon, and a long tongue slithered over its lips. "Now you must pay my tithe for disturbing my rest."
Árdís leapt between them, her arms outspread. "You cannot eat him," she cried. "Remember the treaty! You swore an oath, great lord. He's human."
"He's in my territory."
"But he hasn't raised a hand against you!"
A long slow blink of its translucent eyelid. Haakon's heart slammed to a halt as it bared its teeth at her. He'd never reach her in time. He'd never be able to—
Fáfnir's nostrils flared as he sniffed at Árdís. Her shirt blew back in the gust. "You." This time, the rumble sounded like a volcano erupting. "You smell like treachery."
Árdís went to her knees, and pressed her face to the ground. "I am his daughter," she admitted. "Blood of his blood. But I am also your great-granddaughter. Blood of your blood."
Fáfnir's lip curled back off his teeth as they gnashed together.
"Do not move," she ground out, and Haakon realized she meant him.
He knelt on one knee, frozen.
It was the first time in his life he'd felt truly helpless. There was nothing he could do to protect her. Their odds of surviving this relied on Árdís's wits.
Árdís suddenly cried out, digging her fingers into the mud as if some sudden pain pressed down upon her. Fáfnir's eyes gleamed as he flipped her onto her back with his nose, baring her belly.
"You stink of dwarven magic," he hissed.
"It's the bracelet," Árdís gasped. "It traps my dreki magic within me, so I must wear this form. I do not wear it by choice."
"It keeps me out of your head."
Árdís's mouth twisted in a rictus of pain. "Then ask me what you want to know!"
"What are you doing here? Why have you disturbed me?"
"I fled from court," she cried, curling her fingers into claws as if to fight the pressure. "My mother wishes me to mate with a dreki not of my choice. We were forced to cross your lands to escape them."
"And this one?"
Haakon stifled a yelp as the enormous head swung toward him. Hot wet breath gusted over his face as he stared into a nostril the size of a boulder. He didn't dare wipe his face dry. Mother of fucking kraken. Every instinct screamed at him to run—or attack—but he didn't dare.
"He's my husband," Árdís gasped. "We are married."
"Your mate."
"N-no." She crawled to her feet, one hand held out beseechingly. "Not my mate."
"Your scent is all over him. You are mated."
"Marriage is like mating, in the human world," she said, trying to explain. "But your souls do not combine. You are not one. You merely choose to live together. And we have shared blankets, hence why he smells of me."
"I'm not talking of his odor, you foolish kit."
Árdís grew very still. "What do you mean?"
Fáfnir withdrew to look at her again. "You are linked somehow, but there is a chasm between where your souls touch. If he is yours, then why is there a chasm?"
Yes, why?
Haakon slowly gained his feet, but all of his attention was locked upon her.
Árdís hesitated. "I am dreki, and he is mortal. We have been estranged, but..." She took a quick breath. "Haakon is trying to help me remove this cursed bracelet."
A discontented rumble sounded, as if Fáfnir sensed her skirting the truth.
Haakon quite agreed. Anger suddenly flared, hot like a coal in his belly. "She vanished in the middle of the night. I thought she was taken by a dreki," he said softly, "only to discover she was the dreki. If we have been estranged, it's because she left me, great lord."
Árdís paled.
"You left your mate?" Fáfnir sounded surprised. "Ah, that explains this chasm. Two halves that do not touch, and perhaps never will."
"Will you grant us passage, great lord?" Árdís blurted, with an intensity that made Haakon look at her sharply.
She was hiding something.
Fáfnir's eyes narrowed, and a wicked gleam shone there. "There is a cost involved for trespassing."
"What do you want?" Árdís asked carefully. "Our horses are long gone. You cannot eat them. And we have little of value upon us."
"Then that is a problem for you. Give me something precious. Or one of you must stay, until the other fetches a prize to tempt me."
Árdís trembled as she reached up to the back of her neck. What was she doing? Her face had gone deathly pale.
She unlocked the simple chain around her throat, and poured the ring and chain into her hand, holding it out flat.
"No!" He stepped toward her, but drew up short as that enormous head swiveled in his direction. He looked past the enormous dreki. "Árdís, no."
Not her ring.
He didn't know why, but until she gave that ring back—or cast it aside—he felt like there was some hope between them.
"We don't have anything else," she whispered.
"This is barely silver." Fáfnir looked disgusted. "Do you mean to insult me?"
Árdís released a slow breath. "You're right. It is only silver. But it's also the most precious thing in the world to me. If I had gold or gems upon me, I would give them to you without hesitation, before I offered this."
Haakon's gut twisted. What was she saying?
Fáfnir eased back down into a crouch. Rain began to patter down. "You are speaking the truth. I do not understand."
Árdís swallowed, and offered him the ring. Her hand shook. "My husband gave this to me. It is a sign of our commitment to each other."
Fáfnir looked like he was enjoying her pain. "This is indeed a gift. I will accept it."
Haakon stared at her. Don't do it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, as she fought to place the ring in the curl of the dreki's great claws.
"I have gold in my saddlebags," he snapped. "I can fetch it for you, in exchange for the ring."
The dreki's claws closed around the ring, and it vanished from sight. "Keep your gold, mortal man. You have nothing to tempt me with."
"Then what would tempt you?" he demanded, stepping
right up to the dreki's face.
"Careful," the dreki snarled. "Or I'll ask for your heart."
You already have it.
"Haakon, no!" Árdís grabbed his wrist. "We'll leave, great lord. Please don't take offense. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I—"
"He wants to hurt me," she hissed. "Because of my father. This is revenge, nothing else. Don't make it worse."
Rain dripped down his lips and chin. He glared into the dreki's eyes. "What would tempt you?"
"A black diamond. A king's crown. The Holy Grail. The heart of a kraken." Fáfnir smirked. "Your soul."
"For a silver ring?" Haakon demanded incredulously.
The dreki rested its head on its claws. "What is the price you would pay for it, mortal man? What is it worth to you?"
Everything.
"Don't," Árdís warned, her eyes wide as she shook her head at him. "Please, don't agree to anything he says. You don't know what you're doing. It's just a ring."
Haakon's nostrils flared.
It was not just a ring.
"Now begone, peasants." Fáfnir's eyes blinked slowly in the night. "Before I change my mind... and take both your hearts."
14
The door on the shepherd's hut banged shut as the wind tore it from Haakon's fingers. Dust covered the floor, and there was a cold emptiness to the hut that hinted it had been long abandoned. Little wonder. It was right on the edge of Fáfnir's territory. He'd probably eaten any sheep that dared stray close enough.
Haakon tossed his bags and bedroll on the ground with a carelessness he'd never displayed before. He peered through the windows, frustrated at the renewing of the storm.
"Damn it," he muttered, locking the door. "We're so close. But we'll get nowhere today." The horses were both exhausted, the conditions were worsening, and both he and Árdís had ridden through most of the night.
Árdís turned in slow circles, surveying their surroundings. They'd left Fáfnir's territory an hour ago, and they'd barely spoken a word.
Perhaps she could sense his anger and frustration.
Or perhaps she was exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she looked hollow, as if handing over the ring had drained her more than he'd have expected.
