The war isn’t just coming to Völundr. It’s going to spread, consuming everything in its path.
“I’ll go,” she says finally. “But after we’ve made sure our defenses are fortified.”
Rainer nods, satisfied. “The harbor master wants your approval on the evacuation plans. If the fae think they can just sail in and take us, they’re going to learn why this city has never fallen in ten thousand years.”
As we follow him back toward the docks, I find myself hoping that their defenses will be enough.
Because if this city falls, something irreplaceable will be lost.
And Rhianelle will never forgive herself.
17
Chapter 16 Svenn
The road from Völundr to Kashran follows the ancient coastal path. White marble of the northern cliffs gradually surrenders to black volcanic stone. I ride slightly behind Rhianelle and her knights, my dark Noctral keeping pace with hers.
She wears her crown today. The delicate circlet of silver shaped in branching stag horns marks her as Völundr’s ruler. It catches the morning light, creating small rainbows across her Noctral’s pale mane.
Behind us, Tallulla and Lenna flank Deirdre in their traveling cloaks. Siofra follows with her newborn wrapped securely against her chest and Blaire rides close at her side. The infant stays quiet, occasionally making soft sounds that blend with the steady breathing of the Noctrals.
Kashran emerges from the black stone cliffs. No prayer flags flutter here and no temple bells mark the hours. The kingdom does not worship the same gods as Aelfheim.
The air changes as we cross the border. It grows heavier, pressing against my skin. The wolf running beside Shade’s Noctral seems subdued. He presses closer to the mount’s legs.
Our Noctrals don’t like the atmosphere either.
“Easy,” I murmur, stroking my mount’s neck. The creature settles slightly but remains alert.
“It’s strange that Cedwyn refused to come,” Lady Deirdre mentions to Rhianelle.
“Perhaps Kashran’s godlessness offends his sensibilities,” Eyepatch replies from the front of our column.
“They truly worship nothing?” Tallulla whispers to Lenna, both handmaidens clutching their prayer beads nervously. Their Noctrals sense their riders’ fear and begin to prance sideways.
“They honor the seagods,” Red says with a smile. “Selmora of the Deep, Othmar the Reef King, and worst of all, Kraethys. Cedwyn would probably call any statues of them in Kashran heretical. Some devout followers of Elior won’t even set foot in a kingdom that denies the seventy-seven.”
Something about that excuse bothers me. A scribe’s duty is to record, not judge. But I file the thought away as we near the Kashran border.
The guards stationed there straighten as we approach, their dark cloaks snapping in the wind.
“Lady Rhianelle Wiolant. Lord Rainer.” The senior guard inclines his head deeply. “We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Kashran.”
The formal words echo faintly against the stone. They fall into position ahead of us, guiding our party toward the mountain pass.
The path narrows quickly.
Black cliffs rise sheer on either side, forcing us into single file. The sea disappears behind us, replaced by shadow and the slow climb of the mountain. Pale lines appear on the black cliffs. They run horizontal across the stone at different heights. The markings look old, weathered into the volcanic rock.
"What are those?" Red asks, pointing at the nearest streak.
I follow his gaze.They’re waterlines.
“The sea left them,” Rainer replies, gesturing toward a mark well above our heads. “Centuries ago, giant waves rose even this high."
I stare. We're already far above the shore. The idea of water reaching this height seems impossible.
“But we survived Tayum’s wrath. The seagods are kind," one of the Kashran guards says quietly.
