“What if the opening is above?” Eydìs asked.
“You mean the top of the mountain?” Phile asked.
“It’s a possibility,” General Halvor said.
Rakel placed her hand on the rocky slope, feeling the depth and thickness of the ice and snow packed into the mountain. “It’s here,” she said.
“How do you know?” Crow asked, eyeing her with interest.
Rakel shoved her arm into the snow. The drift blew apart, as if a strong wind disturbed it, and revealed a small opening that was partially covered by rocks.
Phile plucked a rock off the top. “Nice work, Little Wolf.”
In a few short moments, the opening was cleared. Oskar had to duck to enter, and Rakel nearly scraped her head, but everyone else was able to enter undeterred. (Everyone but Crow, that was. His layers of clothing meant Phile had to yank him inside like a mother cat dragging a fat kitten.)
Frodi went first with balls of fire bobbing around his head, illuminating the area.
The cave was a shallow, but dark, one-room chamber. The wind howled eerily as it blew across the opening, and it smelled of dirt and stifling, old air.
“There.” Snorri pointed to the back of the chamber.
Set against the far wall was a large mirror as tall as Oskar. It had an ornate gold frame molded into swirls and tiny flowers, and at the top of the frame was a giant, blood red ruby. Several shards were missing from the mirror’s lower right corner, revealing the gold backing. Normally one would call it beautiful, but it radiated an absolute coldness that was so chilling, Rakel’s lungs ached, and her breath froze in the air. Though it was a solid object, Rakel could have sworn she saw ripples stir on the surface and heard hissing whispers echo in the chamber.
The mirror was ancient, and it was evil.
“Destroy it,” Rakel said.
“Are you certain it can’t be used?” Eydìs asked.
Frodi didn’t wait for a response. He engulfed the thing in flames, turning up the heat until tears stung Rakel’s eyes, and she couldn’t look at it.
“Don’t burn yourself out, idiot!” Eydìs yanked Frodi away and shoved a piece of jerky in his mouth. “If you put yourself in a stupor, we’re all in trouble.”
“I can’t do it,” Frodi panted. “Someone else will have to.”
General Halvor lifted his pick axe and smashed it into the mirror. The pickaxe glanced off the mirror, leaving not even a scratch, and Halvor was thrown to the ground. The chamber shook with the power of the recoil.
The soldiers tried using rocks and other weapons enchanted by Tollak. Eydìs tried ripping it apart; Liv attempted to purify it; and an earth magic user tried crushing it between rocks with no success.
Finally, Phile approached it. Her normally bright and happy face was blank of expression as she adjusted her grip on Foedus. Abruptly, she slammed the tip of the weapon into the surface and leaned, all the muscles in her body bunching with exertion. Foedus did not glance off the surface as the other weapons had done, but it didn’t make a crack.
Phile leaned into the dagger, and Rakel could have sworn she heard hissing. The room temperature dropped even though she was using her magic to counter it, and Phile still strained.
Phile gasped and pulled back, sweat beading on her forehead in spite of the cold temperatures. She shook her head. “No good,” she said. “Little Wolf?”
Rakel reluctantly drew closer to the mirror, shivering when she saw the reflection. This close, she could see Foedus had made a nick on the mirror surface, marring it, but it was miniscule—barely a pin prick on the ornate monstrosity.
The mirror didn’t perfectly reflect what was in the room. It shrank the image of those present, and magnified the darkness of the cave. As Rakel stared at it, something brushed her skin.
Use me…
Rakel glanced behind her, but no one else seemed to have heard the dark whispers.
You will be Queen, the most powerful and beautiful in all the land.
Rakel knit her hands together and clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt.
Those who hurt you will pay. They are nothing.
