Harpa’s glare was so like her grandson’saxe eyes, Silla wanted to laugh. “You agreed not to question my methods, did you not? I believe this will help tease out your Blade Breaker skill, and so you will do it.”
Silla had chewed on her lip. “But the giant serpent…”
“Do you not trust me?” Harpa had folded her arms over her chest, a challenge in her gaze.
“I do,” said Silla slowly. Harpa might not be the best at explaining thewhy, but Silla had to admit, her methods were effective.
“Go now,” said her mentor, nodding at the door.
And with a sigh, Silla had surrendered. Accepting the bucket, she’d wordlessly stepped through the wards and begun her trek up to the glacial terraces.
As she climbed, Silla glanced over her shoulder frequently, but thankfully found no sign of the serpent. The lush pine forest of the lower mountains soon dwindled to short scraggy fir trees amid thick drifts of snow. And soon, even those sparse trees fell away, and there was nothing but snowfields, sowindblown in places, black rock had been exposed. The wind started up in earnest, and Silla pulled her scarf higher.
Jökull loomed before her, giant stacks of blue-tinged ice as far as the eye could see. From a distance, they had such graceful shapes, all nestled into the curve of Jökull’s mountain. But up close, the rugged shape of the ice was apparent, jagged peaks and rough cracks, ice battered and shaped over centuries. As she neared, the cold seemed to fade. Silla felt small, humbled when faced with a thing of such magnitude.
Beneath the lowest terrace, the ice arched around a dark opening, a heavy lip of snow jutting out over an entry. A cave, it seemed, but hadn’t Harpa mentioned a lake? Silla surveyed the barren landscape stretching between her and the ice cave, gaze falling on a windswept patch of ice. Clearly the lake was frozen solid. Had she misheard Harpa’s instructions?
Silla made her way to the entry of Jökull’s caves, where the trickle of water met her ears. With a deep, bracing breath, she ducked under the snow shelf and entered the cavern. And gazed about in complete wonder.
The tunnel was a more brilliant blue than the most beautiful cloudless sky. Light diffused from a rippling glacial roof, and Silla found she could not look away. Her gaze traced the build and crest of each undulating wave. There was a rhythm to this place, like the flow of an ocean trapped for eternity.
With a shake of her head, Silla set to her task. A small stream flowed along the black rocks on the cavern’s floor.Part of her itched to explore the cave, but she reminded herself she was here for one reason alone. Dropping to her knees, Silla dipped her bucket into the stream.
Movement caught her eye, and she glanced up, spotting an ice spirit. Her frosty blue wings were a near perfect color match to the cavern’s roof, and as the spirit flew in an anxious loop, a trail of tiny crystalline shards drifted in her wake.
“Well met, friend,” said Silla. “I did not expect to meet you here.”
A pair of ice spirits joined the first, hissing and pointing deeper into the cavern.
Silla frowned, setting the bucket down. “Is this your home?”
Another half-dozen ice spirits dashed from the cavern’s depths, jostling against one another for Silla’s attention.
“It’s lovely,” she said, apprehensively. There was a certain aggression to the spirits she hadn’t seen before. “Is something wrong?”
The ice spirits dashed down the corridor and back again. It seemed to be ayes. They watched Silla expectantly.
“You want me to follow?” Another happy response from the spirits. In the back of Silla’s mind, doubt lingered. “It does not seem smart.”
But a low, distant wail met her ears, raising each hair on the back of her neck. Silla grew preternaturally still, wondering if she’d imagined the sound. It had seemed human. A child, perhaps.
“Help!” called a voice, shock prickling down Silla’s spine.
Discarding her bucket, Silla pushed to her feet. “Show me,” she said, determination settling in place. Was it Ástrid or Váli? Silla rushed after the ice spirits through Jökull’s caves.
The cries grew louder, the ice spirits more restless, the deeper they went. And as Silla hurried after the spirits, a dark tendril stirred within her.
“Help!” cried the voice, louder, more frantic. The distinct smell of rot met her nose, and Silla had the vague thought it would be wise to turn back. But the dark tendril unfurled and stretched out, a seductive caress soothing any fears.
As she rounded a bend, Silla entered a cavernous space, met with a chilling sight. To her left, were strange bulbous rock formations, some of which were cracked. Directly ahead, tufts of wool, bones, and torn sheep carcasses littered the space. And the smell—she knew that smell. It was just like the forest walker Jonas had slain on the Road of Bones—the smell of dead, moldered things. Most curious of all, were the strange, twisted lengths of material, thin like parchment, yet scaled like…
Gasping, Silla stumbled back.Nest, her mind provided. This was the serpent’s lair. And that parchment-like matter was a snakeskin. Hardly daring to breathe, she looked for any sign of movement. Nothing. Silla looked harder at the shed snakeskin. It was far too short to belong to the serpent Vig and Rey had described. And as she looked at the nest with fresh eyes, a picture formed.
The curious cluster of rocks to her left were not rocks at all. Some of the domed tops had been cracked open, revealing hollow, empty cavities within. Eggs. Gods above, they were eggs.The sheep carcasses must have been left for the hatchlings, and as she examined the state of the corpses, Silla guessed they’d been torn into bite-sized pieces.
And suddenly, it made sense why Rey and Vig had found no sign of the great serpent for several weeks. The mother had been holed up in her nest, laying her eggs—some of which had already hatched.
Silla had to get out of here. Had to tell Rey…
