ASTRID
“Welcome to the second trial of this year’s Fittest Under the Mountain!” Jostein’s booming voice echoed through the wide chasm yawning before us, the darkness below an impenetrable black that felt like an endless nothingness.
I swallowed and stared down. It was one thing to traverse our dwarven-built bridges, lined as they were with stone railings embedded with sunstones. And it was quite another to tiptoe across the rickety wooden planks bouncing around in the breeze. I didn’t even want to think about the metal rungs looping from one side to the next, but every other contestant had lined up behind the start position for those.
I was the only one who’d chosen the bridge.
Still, sweat coated my palms, like I’d gone for the alternative.
Spectators crowded onto every ledge lining the chasm, cheering and waving their multi-colored banners. Even here, the roar was deafening. Lilia caught my eye from the ledgejust across, but she was deep in conversation with Ragnar and another elf—a silver-haired man with an uncanny resemblance to her—and an orcish woman. I squinted. She was powerfully built and graceful in the way she moved. That must be Lilia’s brother, Rivelin, and his partner, Daella. But Lilia had told me he didn’t much like leaving his little village over on Hearthaven. And by the furrow of his brow, he didn’t seem thrilled to be here, either.
The cheers suddenly hushed, and a murmur went through the crowd.
Jostein’s hands had fallen to his sides, and an eerie white sheen stained his face. The two visitors from Rockheim stood beside him, feverishly whispering into his ear. With every moment that passed, the whites of his knuckles grew whiter.
“What do you think that’s about?” a voice said—right into my ear. I leapt and released a rather undignified yelp, then whirled to glare at Tormund. He’d sneaked up on me again.
“You really need to make more noise when you move. One of these times, you’re going to make my heart fall out of my chest.”
For once, laughter didn’t dance in his eyes. He was too focused on Jostein’s pale face, which was, undeniably, concerning. “Those two have come bearing very bad news.”
“Well spotted,” I told him.
He finally turned to face me. “Why are you so grumpy this morning?”
“As if you don’t know,” I replied crisply.
“Is this about me being quiet earlier?”
I’d arrived to the competition platform half an hour early. Tormund had been the only other contestant to do the same. After last night’s dinner, I’d expected a hearty hello. Or at least a friendly one. We’d share a meal, some laughs, and then a goodbye that had felt like the beginning of a friendship of sorts.But when I’d told him hello, he’d given me a curt nod and then had proceeded to ignore me until everyone else had arrived.
“It was very rude,” I pointed out. “You didn’t even say hello.”
“Now that’s not true. I said hello.”
“You absolutely did not,” I argued.
He folded his arms. “I gave you a nod.”
“A nod is not hello. It’s less than hello. It’s a very rude way of dismissing someone. What happened to everything you said last night?”
Knut stuck his head between us, his black bushy beard wobbling, his brows arched high. “What happened last night?”
“Nothing!” Tormund and I nearly shouted in unison.
Tormund caught my eye. I rolled mine at him. Then we both cracked grins simultaneously.
“All right, all right.” Knut held up his hands. “You keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing, if you want, but Jostein looks really unhappy. And I think it has something to do with the Everstone.”
My head snapped Jostein’s way. The old dwarven man was wringing his hands, his eyes darting across the competitors. When they landed on my face, his lips twisted down, and he sighed. My heart thumped. There would only be one reason for an expression like that.
He hurried on over to the nine of us. “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news. The Everstone is, ah, missing.”
I pressed my lips together.
Altan, one of Tormund’s friends, barked, “Missing?”
“I am afraid so.”
