“Right!” boomed Rey, and conversations among the twenty or so warriors died a swift death. Silla sidled up beside him, and together they waited for the other warriors to gather around. “We’re here to discuss Istré. There is more to it than many of you know. I am not certain if my letters reached Istré at the end, but I’ll repeat the information for all present.”
A feeling of anticipation settled over the room.
“I believe—” Rey cleared his throat, and Silla slid her hand into his, squeezing gently. Hekla’s brows drew together.
“Webelieve—” Rey ratified with a strange expression so near to a smile that Hekla nearly fell over.
We?
“—that Rökkur is coming. It is a thing of legend long lost. The twilight of our days.”
Murmurs rippled through the room, but Hekla was too busy examining Silla and Rey’s joined hands. When last she’d parted from them, they were constantly at each other’s throats. Rey couldn’t wait to rid himself of Silla. But then he’d gone after her when Jonas had taken her.
Something unexpectedly wonderful happened in the shield-home,Silla had said. Could it be? No. There could not be a more unlikely pairing than these two.
“Rökkur,” continued Rey, “is said to begin with frost and end with fire. We believe the long winters we’ve suffered for the lastseveral years fulfill the frost part of the legend. And we believe that when the Sleeping Dragons awaken, we shall have fire. Yet all that lies between is unknown.”
“While we were in Kalasgarde, an enormous serpent entered our realm through a crack in the earth,” Silla chimed in. “Rey’s grandmother is a Weaver. A type of Galdra able to weave the threads of past, present, and future into a tapestry,” she added helpfully for Hekla and the other non-Galdra in the bunch. “Harpa wove a tapestry with four images: a serpent, a dragon, a tree, and a queen.”
An ominous prickle ran down Hekla’s spine.
“The serpent makes sense to us,” continued Silla. “And the dragon—surely that is the one called Kraugeir. He who sleeps among the slumbering fire mountains. But we wonder—could the tree refer to Istré? Harpa said that dark creatures would emerge from thedeep-rooted woods of the west.Surely, she’s referring to your job in Istré?”
“Perhaps.” Goosebumps formed on Hekla’s skin at the sound of Eyvind’s voice. “I’m afraid we know little of the mist.” She felt the touch of his gaze like a caress. “Hekla,” he said thickly, “knows it best of all.”
There seemed to be hidden meaning in those words—an apology, perhaps, for all that had transpired in Istré. Hekla’s jaw shifted as she tried to drive such thoughts away.
After a moment, she straightened her spine and looked at Axe Eyes. “What we know of the mist can be listed on one hand.” She lifted a finger on her left hand. “The mist emerges with the sound of a beating heart coming from somewhere distant in the forest.” She lifted a second finger. “Any creature—beast or man alike—entrapped in the mist is Turned draugur.”Except me,she did not say. Hekla added a third finger. “It is repelled by fire and moonlight.”
“ ‘It’?” asked one of the Kalasgardian warriors—Kálf, if Hekla recalled correctly.
A fourth finger rose. “We believe the mist is alive.”
This caused a chorus of whispers to whip up among the gathered warriors. “What do you mean?” someone called out.
Hekla shivered, thinking of the way the mist had spoken to her through one of its enthralled draugur. “It is strategic and cunning. It manipulated Loftur. Convinced him he could earn Sunnvald’s blessing by holding a feast on the double black moon, which proved to be a trap. The double black moon was when the mist’s power was unrestrained and it could fully escape the woods.”
The silence in the room was absolute. For the thousandth time since she’d begun working on this job, Hekla cursed Loftur. He’d hidden the truth from her. Had barred her from entering the forest. They could have known so much more about this enemy had she been allowed to investigate. Instead Istré had burned to the ground and now, apparently, the mist had grown stronger.
“Rey defeated the serpent, and we killed many of her hatchlings. Does that not prove that Myrkur’s creatures can be vanquished?” Silla’s voice was small in the large room, but it was like a sudden summer breeze, lifting the mood in an instant.
“Aye,” said Rey, squeezing Silla’s hand, then turning back to the group. “You’ve been there, Hekla, you know this thing. What do you suggest?”
Hekla met his gaze, warmth again flooding her chest—she’d forgotten what it was like to be listened to and respected. After a moment of stunned silence, she spoke. “We need more men and replenished supplies. And we need to go into those woods.”
“Before,” said Rey, looking from Hekla to Gunnar and Sigrún, “you did not know the true nature of what you faced. Your hands were shackled by rules and restrictions. You made the best of what you had. We shall return to Istré armed with numbers and knowledge.”
The group settled on the benches surrounding the hearth, and they began to plot the details of the mission. Though the thought of returning to Istré had been demoralizing at the start of the hour, by the end, Hekla was reinvigorated. She was eager to face down this foe and vanquish it for good.
Eventually, warriors all around stood and prepared to leave. From the corner of her eye, Hekla spotted a lone figure seated at thebench. It was Silla, staring listlessly at the fire as flames danced in her glassy eyes.
“Dúlla?” Hekla’s left hand clasped Silla’s wrist, intending to rouse her friend from her daze. But her fingertips met ice-cold skin, and when Silla’s blank eyes locked onto hers, Hekla gasped.
In that instant, she knew it was not her friend looking back at her at all, but something altogetherother.The hairs on her neck lifted as Hekla reached back out. Tapped Silla gently.
Silla’s head jolted forward, and she seemed disoriented. “Oh! The meeting has ended.” She glanced around the room. “I must have fallen asleep.”
Hekla observed her. “You seemed wide awake to me.”
