I laugh. It’s humorless. “No. But there’s straw in this one. It could be intentional. Ithasto be intentional. Right?”
No one responds. I glance at Otto, who has his sword in one hand, his eyes scanning the room, and I can see his brain working hard to figure out something else,anythingelse.
We don’t know what the game is here. What Perchta wants with us, if the stone is eveninthis statue, or if this one is stuffed full of straw for another reason. It could be important to Perchta for some other purpose, something to do with this barrow, this chamber, whoever’s final resting place this is.
I wish I could talk with Holda. And that thought has me grateful that she was the goddess who chose me, not the manic, unhelpful, rule-obsessed Mother.
Rules.
Perchta is the goddess of rules.
What will happen if I use wild magic on her statue? Had she planned for that in whatever traps she’s set down here? I used it to fend off Alois, and nothing happened.
I can’t keep speculating.Indecision could cost lives, Brigitta had said.
I shake out my hands and take a step back.
“Give me space,” I say.
Cornelia and Alois back up.
They’re here. They’ll see me use wild magic.
I’m not sure I care anymore.
Unlike Cornelia and Alois, Otto comes closer.
I cock an eyebrow at him, and he readies his sword, but he makes no move to obey me, and I nudge him with my shoulder.
“All right, Perchta,” I snarl as I face the statue. “Let’s see what’s so special about this statue.”
I grab for the same thing I used to push away Alois: air. This is—hopefully—the resting place of the air stone, so it’s only fitting. I can feel particles dancing through this space, stagnant for too long in this locked-away tomb. Air winds around the statue—it isn’t set into the wall, merely cradled in this alcove, and there’s enough space between the body on the couch and this wall that I can knock the statue out onto the floor.
Hands clenched, I tug, harnessing the air to pull the statue forward.
It rocks and resettles against the alcove.
Again. Again. The statue teeters in wider arcs, and part of me unwinds when it doesn’t leap out to fight us like the masked creatures had. It just wobbles like any stone statue would, and sweat beads down my face with every tug, but finally,finally, the statue pitches all the way forward.
I back up as it falls. Otto plants his hand on my back and steps with me, the two of us braced for a shatter, a crack at least.
What we are not braced for is the statue’s arm snapping out and catching itself before it crashes to the ground.
19
Otto
Maybe it won’t attack.
That’s my only thought as the enormous, larger than life-sized sandstone statue pushes up from the ground. The monsters didn’t attack. They just herded us here. And Fritzi and I are both goddess-chosen, and—
My thoughts come to a crashing halt as the statue touches its side. A sheathed blade is etched into it, but as soon as the moving statue’s fingers touch it, the sword becomes very real, shining sharp metal.
In front of me, Fritzi fumbles, too shocked, I think, to call up a spell quickly. I shoulder past her, putting her behind me, and throw up my own blade just in time to feel the strength of the blow, to stop the sword as it swings down toward us.
As soon as our blades meet, sparks flying as the metal grinds against metal, I know—I’m in trouble. Strong as I am as a warrior, my muscles are not made of stone, my flesh is not solid, my body is not as big. I digmy heels into the packed earth at the bottom of the barrow, eyes glaring. I may not be able to fully fight this statue come to life, but I will not relent.
Heat burns in my chest, over my heart.
