After redirecting Argnier and Edmund, they soon locate another stone door with Makt’s sigil.
“Great, more riddles.” Aura huffs while examining it just like before.
“Requires the same sacrifice. Hmm, perhaps,” Edmund cuts his arm and drips blood onto the seal.
“Mayhaps Calder bears the ideal blood?” Argnier gestures to Aura and the unseen Helga, who guide him forward so Edmund can slice Calder’s arm and add his blood to the basin attached to the door. Once a single drop of Calder’s blood drips into the bowl, the ground shudders as the door slides open.
A lump forms in her throat. She will certainly drown in the weight of her powerlessness in this situation.
Fuck the gods, fuck my father, and fuck Lavinia for placing him in this situation.
They maneuver out of the temple and emerge at the foot of the mountain.
Edmund cranes his neck to gaze up at the peak with a puzzled expression. “Well, it would have been nice to know there was a backdooor before we climbed the damn thing.”
Aura tilts her head to glimpse the mountainside, and the air rushes out of her chest, nearly dragging her to her knees. A layer of ice coats the side, thick enough to cover the trees to their tips. She shivers at the light snowfall still swirling against the dusky sky.
What have you done, Iss Drengr?
Their trek to the edge of Viktoft is silent except for Aura’s haggard breathing and continual refusal to allow Helga to simply bear him herself.
He is mine, and I shall ensure his safety myself.
“The runes surrounding you do not speak well of your relationshipwith Sigvid.” Helga breaks the silence as Fitz’s shack and barn rise along the embankment.
“The runes?”
“Your life, companions, aspirations, knowledge, I can foresee your past, present, and future in the runes surrounding you.”
Aura grunts, unwilling to focus her mind on the fucking Salt Province at the moment. “The runes are correct. My relationship with Father has been strained lately. When I last saw him, he couldn’t believe I was his daughter.” She swallows the bitterness hard, having not shared that heartbreaking moment with any living soul except Calder.
Argnier and Edmund walk ahead, gratefully keeping silent. The group pauses several steps from the front door of Fitz’s home to let Argnier knock. A faint glow flickers through the warped glass of the windows.
The door creaks open, offering faint warmth to the party.
“Fitzroy! Hello, my old friend!” Argnier greets him with overflowing enthusiasm. “I have a bit of a problem. We were exploring the old temple up the way, and one of my fellow explorers got a little hurt.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Could you patch him up?”
Stepping onto the porch is not a man but a white mink standing on its back legs. The tiniest monocle sits on his right eye, and even from a distance, she can tell he wears tiny black boots and a checkered robe.
Now, I understand the preoccupation with weasels.
“Aye, I know who this is.” He gestures a paw toward her Iss Drengr. “I will not heal Calder, son of Lavinia.” His squeaky voice is nearly adorable.
Almost.
“Awe, Fitz,” Argnier chastises the mink as though he is a small child who thinks the sun will never rise again, “he has committed terrible acts against the Queen. Yeah, it is unfortunate he shares her blood, but he is trying to change.”
Fitz shakes his small furry head. “That bitch Lavinia killed mywife and had me transformed into this form. I have lived this way for more damned winters than I did as a man!”
“But you are much cuter like this, Fitzy.”
“He bears theseidrwounds on his skin.” Fitz gestures with his paws toward Calder’s face. “His condition is severe. Perhaps beyond my abilities.”
Somehow, along the journey to the cursed mink man, Aura completely missed the veins of blue cutting along every bit of his exposed skin and beyond as if hisseidrburst through to the surface.
“The answer is no, Argnier.” Fitz turns away as Aura entrusts his body to Helga.
“Wait! Please!” She falls to her knees. “Please, Sir Fitzroy, I need you to save him.”
