The Stone of Sorrow

by Brooke Carter

  But time is slippery. It does not stay the same. I can only watch it flow like a fast-flowing river trapped under a glacier. I cannot control its direction. Not yet. One day I will unlock the secrets of time, and I will find a way to defeat death itself. If it takes a thousand lifetimes, I will find a way.

  The horizon glows blue and gold, and I know that somewhere on the open water I will meet my destiny. Through the wisps of cloud that dot the sky, a lone bird flies. Its path is aligned with mine, and it cries out to me in a raven’s voice. I watch its black wings, furious shadows that beat away the past, as it it soars into the sunlight of a new day.

  Stay with me.

  Acknowledgments

  This book would simply not exist without the support and hard work of some very special people. I am so grateful to everyone at Orca Book Publishers for taking a chance on this fantasy about an odd girl named Runa, and for giving me a platform to write speculative fiction for teens. It is an actual dream come true.

  I’d like to give special thanks to illustrator Song Kang for her amazing artwork on the cover and throughout these pages, and to designer Rachel Page for creating a thing of beauty that so wonderfully expresses the vision we had for this story. I had such high hopes, and you delivered.

  None of this would have been possible without the tenacity, guidance and enthusiasm of Tanya Trafford. Every writer should be so lucky to work with a gifted editor who is a champion for and protector of their work. (But you can’t have her because she is mine.) Thank you, Tanya, for breathing life into this project, and for trusting me, and for really getting it. By Freyja, we did it!

  My family and my friends are the inspiration for everything I do, and I’m so proud to explore my Icelandic heritage in a book that reflects all the things I wanted in a fantasy novel when I was a teen. This book is for my sister, who always protected me, for my best friend, who loves runes and weird magical stories as much as I do, and for my daughters, who I hope will be inspired by Runa’s journey—and her courage to be herself. To Robert, who has always supported me in this work, I’m so proud to be able to finally share this with you.

  This book was written in memory of my grandparents, Gudrun and Eyolfur.

  To whoever reads this story, I wish you enough light to find your way. Ratljóst.

  Brooke Carter is the author of several books for teens. She lives with her family in Maple Ridge, British Columbia, where she is hard at work writing the Runecaster series and searching for the perfect cloak.

  Read on for a sneak peek from

  BOOK TWO in the RUNECASTER SERIES

  As the current keeper of the moonstone, Runa Unnursdóttir is the only caster powerful enough to return Odin’s lost eye and restore the balance of the world—although she’d love to do anything but. In fact, when Runa sets off on the journey she’s always dreamed of—sailing across the open sea—she does so with the lust for blood. Odin’s blood.

  The soft bed beneath me is made of layer upon layer of greenery that smells of tea and herbs. It induces a sleepiness that I fight hard to shake off. The cave boasts a neat collection of tools and implements, clustered in piles and on ledges of stone. There are baskets, rope and drying fish.

  A piece of fish steams on a plank of wood next to my bed. I pick it up and smell it, but the salty scent of the ocean makes me gag. I retch up more salt water until nothing but bile comes out. How did I survive underwater for so long?

  I try standing up, but my legs are weak, and my body feels like it has grown twice as heavy. The dying embers of the fire in the center of the cave cast a soft glow around me, and a blue light floods in from the mouth. The competing warm and cool tones combine in a colorful wash that undulates along the walls like waves.

  The slapping sound of wet footsteps echoes, and Oski appears in silhouette at the entrance. I watch as their pale face approaches in the dim. Their long red hair hangs in shiny sheets, and their black feathered wings unfurl from their wide shoulders. They are so beautiful.

  I feel a profound sadness knowing Oski’s wings and hair will be taken from them. Is it in another life? Is this the same Oski or someone else?

  Oski comes closer and places a hand over my heart. The hand is cold, and I jump.

  “Who are you?” Their voice is rumbling and low. It is a calming sound, and at once I know I am safe, even if somewhere I am not supposed to be.

  “You know me,” I say. “Somewhere, sometime, you know me. I am Runa.” My name squeezes out of me in a puff of air.

  “Runa? A strong name for such a weak being.” Oski chuckles.

  “Where am I?”

  “Nowhere. My prison.” Oski opens their long arms, indicating the cave.

  “How do I get out of here?” I ask.

  Oski’s smile vanishes. Their dark eyes narrow.

  “You shouldn’t have been where you were, and you shouldn’t be where you are now.”

  Oski picks up the piece of fish at my side and tears into it.

  “Look,” I say. “If you hadn’t rescued me, I’d have been eaten by that…monster.” I shudder, refusing to let my mind recall the image of the gaping mouth. All those teeth.

  Oski tilts their head to the side, questioning. “No, that was Jörmungandr. Not just a monster.”

  “Truly?” I ask.

  “Yes.” Oski smiles. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “Beautiful?” I scoff.

  Oski throws down the half-eaten fish in disgust. “Jörmungandr is a pure creature. It lives in loneliness in the golden waters. It must kill to survive. You know nothing.”

  I am transfixed by Oski’s glowing anger. They are as incandescent as a flame.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage. “It’s just, I was afraid…”

  “Of course. Your kind is always afraid. But I am a Valkyrie, and I don’t get scared. At least, I was a Valkyrie.” Oski drifts off, a sad look on their face.

  “What are you doing here alone?” I ask gently.

  “Ah, banished,” Oski says. They let out a loud belch.

  “Yes, but why?”

  Oski shrugs. “I don’t remember well. Keep forgetting. But it had something to do with the woman I love.”

  “Yes,” I say excitedly. “Wyrd! You love Wyrd.”

  Oski takes a step backward. They look fierce. “How do you know about her? Are you a witch? A spy?” They pull out their sword again, and I raise my hands.

  “No, no. I’m a friend. But in the time that I know you, you don’t have all this hair. Or wings. And…you also lost your horse.” I try to remember everything Oski told me on our journey to moonwater. But my memory is fading. I wonder if it has something to do with this place. I feel like I could sleep forever and just forget everything.

  “Ah, my horse, yes. He had a shock of black mane that was always in his eyes, and he would never let anyone brush it back or braid it. He felt as though he was charged with lightning!” Oski’s smile fades. “I remember his death, when Odin struck him down with a bolt of lightning. His black coat was shining with rain. He died in the mud.”

  “Oski, I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? He wasn’t your horse,” they say.

  We stare at each other in silence for a while.

  “Oski,” I whisper. “Are we dead?”

  “No.” Oski frowns. “I don’t think so.”

  Oski watches me, their head cocked to the side.

  “Oski, I have another question.”

  “Já.”

  “Do you have any clothes? I’m very cold.”

  “I find things,” Oski says. “They wash up onshore. From other realms.” Oski rummages around in a basket and produces a long dress that looks as though it was made for a Valkyrie even bigger than Oski. “This will have to do,” they say, handing it to me.

  I slip it on over my head and am grateful for the warmth, but the arms droop off me, and the bottom of the dress pools around my feet.

  “Here,” says Oski. They pierce the extra cloth with their sword and then tear at the
fabric until the dress is short enough for me to wear.

  I roll up the sleeves and try not to think about my beautiful cloak lost out on the ice, frozen solid and alone.

  “Well,” says Oski. “You look fine. And I suppose you are someone to speak to, at least. Eternity is so boring, já? Do you have any mead?”

  I stare at them. “No, Oski. I don’t have any mead. I don’t have anything. But I would love some water.”

  “Bah, what good are you?” Oski waves their hand at me before fetching a jug filled with water. They pass it to me, and I grab it, drinking it down greedily. The cool water soothes my raw throat.

  I stop to breathe. “Oski,” I ask. “How are you here?”

  “I think I’m always here. I don’t think I will ever be free.”

  “But how are there two of you?”

  “There are two of me? Where?” Oski pulls out their sword. “I will destroy the impostor.”

  “No,” I say. “Not here. Another you, in another time. Another place.”

  “Well then, Runa. Does that mean there is another you?”

  Their question stuns me into silence. I drink my water, and the shadow girl’s face looms in my mind.

  I spend a long time sleeping. Dreams of Núna, my beloved raven and my lost friend, dominate my mind. She flies through the golden sky, squawking a warning to me as she alights on the lip of the cliff. She takes flight again, and it’s as if I can see through her eyes. She shows me the golden sea below. I can see the moonstone in its depths. It is waiting for me.

  I wake with a start and try to clear the sensation that a veil covers my eyes. Núna has shown me the way. I must retrieve the stone.

  Oski appears suddenly. “I have looked into the reflecting sea,” they say. “I have seen things.”

  “You can see things in the sea?” I ask. My heart pounds.

  “Yes, when it wants to show me.”

  “What did it show you, Oski?”

  “I know who you are now. You are the runecaster. You’re the one responsible for the end of the world.”