But if I didn’t compete willingly, the magic of the Isles would find a way to make me join. In the past, others had tried toback out at the last minute. Not once had it worked. Something always happened to nudge them into the arena. Quitting wasn’t an option.
“Nevermind that,” I whispered. “I’m more worried about him going after the Everstone.”
Lilia pressed her lips together, then said, “Just don’t tell him anything. How long have dwarves been hunting for it? Decades. He’ll never find it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Steeling my spine, I twisted toward Tormund’s table in the back corner of the tavern. The other shadow demons were chatting animatedly, sloshing their beer and singing along to the bard’s latest song. But Tormund sat silently with his back against the stone wall, his eyes right on me. My heart pounded. He lifted his tankard from the table and angled it my way, as if he were giving me a cheers across the room.
I lifted my fingers in a rude gesture and stood. “Come on, Lil. Let’s find somewhere better to spend the rest of the evening.”
“Gladly,” she replied. “How about your place?”
My little cottage was nestled in the dwarven village of Steingard, only three caverns west of the mining tunnels, The Wet Beard, and the cluster of larger trading shops. Steingard was home to about a hundred of us, though several families were expecting new additions which would expand our little corner of the world. The ledges that ran along the outer rim of The Endless Chasm were connected by arched stone bridges that curved over the looming darkness. Embedded sunstonesilluminated the path, along with the steps that snaked skyward, linking our homes—stone cottages carved by dwarven hands.
It smelled of wet stone and algae and petrichor, laced through with a softer scent—perfumed flowers. We only had one flower that could grow here, a pale green daisy that clustered wherever we dwarves carved our homes, like the life of it was drawn to us. Someone long ago had dubbed them Daisies of the Deep.
“Steingard is mighty pretty,” Ragnar said as we walked past the flower boxes clustered on the ledge outside my cottage. All four of them were overflowing with the green daisies. I needed to get another box soon. Other than mining, my biggest joys in life were baking and gardening. Since I couldn’t venture above ground, I did my best to bring as much life as I could to my little corner of the world. The flowers weren’t much, but they were all mine.
“Thanks,” I said, pushing inside my home. We didn’t lock our doors under the mountain unless strangers ventured here. Several years back, a few trolls had raided a village while everyone had been watching one of the trials. Ever since then, we’d been more careful with visitors. I’d have to remember to lock up now that Tormund and his friends were here.
At the thought of the shadow demon, all the cheer I’d found during our short walk from The Wet Beard vanished like a puff of smoke.
Lilia and Ragnar took two seats at my dining table, the wooden chair creaking beneath Ragnar’s weight. Lilia politely moved one of my moss plants out of the way, adding it to the cluster of eight others I’d collected in one corner of the room. Everything I owned fit inside this small space, except for my bed, which I could only reach by a rickety ladder leading up to the stone ledge just above my head. Other than the kitchen table and the wash basin sink, I was the proud owner of a new sofa builtfrom oak and covered in cushions stuffed with goose feathers, though I’d have to replace it after a few years. The damp down here wasn’t too kind on wood.
Just like most dwarves, I had my own stash of kegs in my kitchen. I poured us all a round of ale before joining Ragnar and Lilia at the table. Quietly, they both took a sip while I pulled out the bar of chocolate I’d stashed in my tunic. Right now, I could sorely use some sugar.
“What are you going to do?” Lilia asked, finally breaking through the silence. “About Tormund, I mean.”
As if there was anything else she could be referring to right now.
“There’s only one thing Icando.” I shrugged. “I have to find the Everstone before he does.”
“But what about the competition?” Ragnar asked.
Leaning forward, I waved the chocolate bar in the air. “I have to participate, that much is clear. But the rules say nothing about effort. I’ll just live up to everyone’s expectations of me and fail each trial nice and early. Some of them last hours, so that’ll give me loads of free time to hunt for the Everstone.”
“And Tormund will be too focused on the trials to notice you sneaking away,” Ragnar said with a nod. “Clever.”
“Ragnar and I can help get you more time,” Lilia added eagerly. “After the trials end, we’ll do our best to keep Tormund occupied with celebratory ale.”
Ragnar slid his gaze toward Lilia and winked. “I love it when you get sneaky.”
“To clandestine quests and cocoa beans,” I said, lifting a tankard high in the air.
Lilia grinned and tapped her tankard against mine. “To Astrid Balstad breathing in fresh, spring air.”
“And watching the sun set over the majestic mountains,” Ragnar added.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I blinked them back before they spilled down my face. Instead, I whispered, “To friendship, no matter how many miles stretch between us.”
And then I popped another square of chocolate into my mouth, hoping it would soothe the twisting ache in my gut.
3
ASTRID
The morning bell echoed through the mountain. I blinked open my eyes and rubbed my puffy skin, sorely regretting the fifth—or sixth—ale I’d downed before bedtime last night. Ragnar and Lilia had stayed for hours. One drink had turned into another, and before we all knew it, we were happily slurring our words and shout-singing our favorite bard tunes.
Now a rock in my head pounded the backs of my eyes, like someone was taking a pickaxe to it.
