Silla and Rey followed a winding trail between shivering pine trees up Snowspear. Despite the afternoon sun, the air was decidedly cool. Silla sat atop Brown Horse, as she’d taken to calling her mount, a lead connected to Rey’s Horse necessary to urge her stubborn beast forward.
As they rode, Silla couldn’t shake her excitement.
“I’m taking you to a Galdra instructor,” Rey had informed her earlier.
Silla smiled to herself. She was eager to start her new life as a Galdra—to learn what flowed through her veins and take the first step toward rescuing Saga. How she’d accomplish this, Silla was not quite certain, but she was determined to claw together a plan.
As they rode up Snowspear to meet this instructor, snow dusted the surrounding ground.Snow, though midsummer had been a mere month ago.
“Early,” Rey muttered as though reading her thoughts.
Early,as in another long winter. Silla tried to count how many it had been—three now, each one coming sooner. It would be another season of stunted crops.
Around them, it was quiet and still. But inside, Silla was filled with maddening energy—the impatient need to get on with things.
“Tell me again,” she begged Rey.
“Her name is Harpa,” he answered. “She’ll anchor you through the Cohesion Rite and teach you how to express and weave your galdur.”
Silla let out a long breath, watching it cloud the crisp northern air. “The Cohesion Rite will link my heart and my mind?”
“Yes.”
“And then I will be able to control the light?”
“In time.”
The man’s voice was gruff with irritation, and Silla felt the urge to tease him. “And perhaps I’ll be able to knock you on your arse once more,” she continued.
“You can try,” Rey grunted.
“It shall earn me a place in a warband,” she continued. “Hammer Hand seems unfitting for such a skill.” Silla frowned. “Perhaps Silla the Strong. Or Silla theSlayer.”
“Silla the Stone Whisperer,” muttered Rey.
“It wasonetime,” retorted Silla, recalling Rey’s appalled look after she’d apologized to a stone she’d tripped over. “Tell me more about Harpa. What is the Rite? How long will it take? And how do you know Harpa?”
“She’llloveyou.”
“Do you ever offer information willingly?” Silla demanded sharply. Brown Horse snorted, tossing her head in agitation. “Sorry, my darling,” Silla cooed, stroking her shining black mane. But the horse ducked away, and Silla drew her hand back, swallowing her disappointment.
“We’re here,” grumbled Rey. “Soon, all of your questions will be answered.”
Rey steered them off the trail, twisting between trees until a wide, empty clearing stretched before them. It was a confusing befuddlement of seasons all in one place. Sun-baked grasses and wildflowers peeked from beneath the dusting of snow, while rowan trees bordering the property held showy displays of reds and yellows.
“This is it.”
“Where?” asked Silla, eyes darting around.
“It seems Runný has affixed her wards here as well,” said Rey.
Indeed, as they moved across the clearing’s halfway point, the familiar cold press of Runný’s galdur touched Silla’s skin. The empty clearing shifted, and a weathered home with a few scattered outbuildings came into view.
“Burning stars,” she breathed. Each time she witnessed this strange magic, Silla remembered there was an entire world she knew nothing about awaiting her.
Rey’s shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath as he steered them toward the cabin.
“Something troubles you, Rey. Are you nervous?”
