The Iss Drengr smirks, kicking his boots up on the table beside Aura, his hands intertwined behind his head. “Dazzle us with the master plan, Gothi.”
“Yes, yes, the great Calder Avardsson wishes to locate the weapon of a god.” He mocks. “A deity, I might add, that should have been destroyed fifteen winters ago by his hands.”
“Lavinia has an intimate relationship with Makt.” Calder crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl. “A few of you are still in the dark about the Skalor prophecy.” He clears his throat and hesitates as he did aboard theWicked Wyvern,
“Skalor’s salvation requires two. Liberation bleeds at the hands of the god-born child. To make equal upon a field of sunless roses, a willing sacrifice must be taken. Only when Salt melts Ice will peace descend upon the realm.”
Aura scrawls the words in her sketchbook.
“Lavinia intends to force Aura into the prophecy as a sacrifice.” Calder grumps.
“What do you think each line refers to?” Aura asks.
Everyone focuses on Calder, who looks like he was caught naked.
“I do believe the ‘Salt’ refers to Aura.” He does not elaborate, but she can tell he withholds more information from them.
Gunni leans forward, staring blankly at the table. Thora’s face scrunches so tightly that her eyes squint.
“Is this why you two are together for some reason? Because of this prophecy,” her sister nods between Calder and Edmund.
“That is enough!” Calder barks. “We are not here to swap secrets. We are here to discuss this mission.” He clenches his pipe tightly in his teeth.
Aura leans closer to him. “What areyouhiding, Jarl Calder?”
Edmund sneers, examining his cuticles while Gunni laughs so hard he falls off his chair.
“That is my cue!” Edmund perches on the end of the table, twisting around. “After fleeing my temple in Pradacia,” he gestures dramatically, “I stumbled upon a felled warrior shot down by no less than a dozen arrows. Pradacian Sweepers are deadly and spike their arrow tips with a unique blend of Azure. They patrol the border with Skalor, distrustful of their ancient enemy. I fought them off in time to rescue the man.”
All attention shifts to the Iss Drengr, who drums his fingers on the arm of his chair. He growls as he admits, “Yes, Edmund saved my life.”
Uncle Slode is known to have bested her father in the sparring ring on occasion, along with training his only son.
This story may hold some truth.
“You witnessed my cousin fight?” Aura cannothelp herself.
“Barely. The Azure had kicked in when he arrived.” Calder adds dismissively.
“Liar!” Gunni laughs while pounding his fists on the table. “Even you couldn’t help but tout the lad whose ‘axes whirred through the air with better precision than Sigvid or Slode.’”
Thora reclines back in her chair. “Interesting.” She tosses one of her throwing knives into the table's wood grain.
“Yes, he is a great fighter. He saved my ass.” Calder grumps. “I have never seen anyone fight as well.”
“You humble me, Iss Drengr. To think I am this good even without a Sacred Stone ability.”
Aura shares in the laughter at the table, even as a nagging thought prods at her skull.
Her father always said Calder did not possess a Sacred Stone ability and that his name was missing from the list of thirteen-winters-old Trelanders who received powers.
Out of her peripheral vision, she watches him stretch out. Having seen and felt his ice with her own eyes, she is certain he embodies power itself.
“You mentioned Makt’s weapon?” Aura nudges the conversation back to its original purpose.
Edmund gestures widely toward Calder. “I believe our Jarl is the expert.”
Someone coughs in the dark corner of the room.
