“Have you forgiven him?” Hirka asked.
“Rime? Yes. I can’t blame him for his decision, for dashing my hope that he’d make good on the Council’s mistakes. Collecting mistakes is a dangerous pastime. You end up with so many. Did you know that Ravnhov used to be the only place that had raveners?”
Hirka shook her head.
“Until Eisvaldr sent Kolkagga in to abduct men and women who used the Might to forge bonds with the ravens. That’s why Mannfalla has the same knowledge today.”
“That’s impossible!”
“That’s what I thought too. That’s what I’ve thought many times. And that’s what I thought when the letter arrived saying that Urd would take his father’s place in the Council. That’s when I knew for certain. The Council was never meant to serve anyone other than themselves.”
Once again, the pieces fell into place. The letter that arrived that time she was at Ramoja’s. How she had collapsed. Was that when she’d found out?
Ramoja continued, her voice cooler. “Their time needs to end. Even if it means bloodshed.”
Hirka put her hand on Ramoja’s arm again. “It won’t come to that. We’ll get all the answers tonight, Ramoja.”
Ramoja smiled in a way that suggested she was glad someone had faith in the plan, even if she didn’t personally. They sat in silence for a while. All they could hear was the wind in the trees outside, and Vetle’s charcoal scraping back and forth across the paper as he colored.
“He’s risked everything for you, you know,” Ramoja said after a while.
“Who?”
Ramoja raised both her eyebrows as if it were unnecessary of Hirka to ask. It was.
“I can tell you have as much contempt for his decision as I do, Hirka. But he sacrificed everything for you.”
“He’d already sacrificed everything for Kolkagga,” Hirka replied drily.
“Not his life. Not his name. No matter what he’d done, he’d still have been Rime An-Elderin. But not anymore. Now he’s even turned his back on Kolkagga, and no one turns their back on Kolkagga. He’s sealed his fate, Hirka. The time he has left is the time he spends with you. And the last thing he needs is contempt.”
“I don’t have any contempt for him. Quite the opposite! I … I don’t have contempt for him.”
“Yet you sneer when you look at the swords he carries. You turn your back on him every time the conversation turns to life or death.”
“He kills people! And you want to kill people too. Death has never solved anything. Death is just death. It’s never made anything better, and it never will. A lack of respect for life contradicts everything the Seer has said.”
“Well, you’ll be able to ask Him about that tonight,” Ramoja said.
Vetle had put down his charcoal. He held up his drawing and cocked his head, appraising his depiction of the Creator with dissatisfaction.
THE SEER
Eisvaldr was founded on a compromise. The city at the end of the city was the home of the Seer, an open place for prayer and work. The city of the people. At the same time it was meant to protect the twelve families and the secrets they guarded. The city of the Council. Stronghold and public square in an unlikely embrace. On this particular night that was an advantage.
The first part—the wall itself—was no obstacle. People came and went through the archways as they pleased. Guardsmen patrolled either side, met in the middle, and exchanged a few words before continuing. They didn’t stop anyone, nor would they inquire about people’s business in the middle of the night.
Night was the time for the most wretched of souls. The desperate and the sleepless. They came with their hoods pulled over their heads. Alone, or leaning on a companion. They followed the gleaming flagstones, which took them all the way up to the walls of the hall complex. There they fell to their knees with their hands on the stone, or they hung their prayer ribbons on the wooden boards, along with tens of thousands of others, all equally unreadable in the dark. The walls of the complex surrounded the Rite Hall and all the towers and bridges of Eisvaldr. They were the height of several men, and well-guarded. For that reason, they weren’t an option for Hirka and Rime.
Hirka felt like a bowstring. Tense. Pent-up. Rime looked back to see if she was keeping up. They struggled up the ridge on the eastern side. Much higher than she had been the night Urd had broken her out. It was steep. Hirka used branches to help pull herself up.
The plan was to follow the ridge toward Blindból, and reach the red dome from the inside of the walls. They walked in silence, well aware that Kolkagga were still searching for them. Rime stopped up ahead. At first she thought it was because she was lagging behind, but then she realized with relief that they had reached the top.
Hirka stopped and looked upon Blindból for the first time. The place nobody ventured. Even if it were allowed, they wouldn’t dare. The place was a gateway to ancient times. No roads. No people. But it wasn’t the wildness that kept people away. Blindból was the place the blind had once come from. Cursed mountains. Forbidden mountains. Reaching up toward the moon. Hundreds of them. Greater than people. Greater than the old gods. So much so that her entire life would pale into insignificance if she kept walking.
“What’s out there? The blind?”
“No,” Rime whispered. “Just mountains. And Kolkagga.”
Hirka gave him a questioning look. He smiled with moonlight in his gray eyes. “That’s where we live and train. Kolkagga live in Blindból.”
Of course. What better place to station an invisible army than somewhere no one set foot. The clouds rolled across the sky. There would be a storm tonight.
Rime grabbed her arm and pulled her in a different direction. Down toward a rocky outcrop that overlooked the gardens of Eisvaldr. Hirka swallowed. They were on the inside. It looked different than she had expected, though she wasn’t sure of what she had envisaged. Eisvaldr was all that stood between the otherworldly Blindból and the people of Mannfalla. The valley beyond ought to have been … desolate. Terrifying. Something to indicate that it was the battlefield where the Seer had fought the blind a thousand years ago. But this was no battlefield. The area directly behind the hall complex and a good way into the valley was a swaying carpet of tea plants and herb gardens. Paths and white stone steps stood out in the night.
Diagonally below she could see the outlines of doors carved into the mountainside. The moonlight revealed spikes, and with a shudder, Hirka recognized them. The doors to the pits, where the prisoners were held. The cluster of nearby towers must have been where she’d been interrogated. The place where they’d gouged her back. Dragged her on her knees, blindfolded, for no other reason than being born. Hirka felt a stinging pain in her back, and her courage faltered. The power that was concentrated in this place didn’t answer to anyone. They could treat her however they wanted. And if she was captured, they wouldn’t hesitate to act.
What if the Seer already knew? He had been one of the blind, after all. One who had taken the form of the raven and turned His back on His own kind to save the children of Ym from destruction. What if He had changed His mind after a thousand years and wanted the blind to come back? An invasion. Hirka quickly buried the thought. It made her head spin. Because what could you do against gods with evil intentions?
Rime had continued along the outcrop. She sped up and pulled him back. “My bag,” she whispered. He gave her a questioning look and turned his ear to her. “My bag! They took all my things. It’s in there, in the guardroom. In the vaults.”
Rime looked at her in disbelief. Moments passed before he asked, “And?”
“All my things! The herbs. The teas. All I have left of Father.”
His look left no room for doubt. Her things were lost. Going back for them would be ridiculous and was out of the question.
Hirka chewed on her lower lip. The bag was all she owned. All she was. And they’d taken it from her. Dumped it in a corner. Now all that stood between her and the bag was an inattentive guar
d, halfway to dreamland. She continued, more forceful this time.
“It looks like a green sausage with straps. There’s a shell hanging from the tie at the top, and—”
“Forget it!”
“But it’s right down there.”
“All right, then I guess you can go down and get it yourself,” he said.
“I’m not Kolkagga,” she muttered. “I’m not the mystical warrior from the shadows with immense powers who—”
“Wait here. I swear, you’re a nightmare.”
Hirka stared at his back as he disappeared into the darkness. She kneeled and peeked over the edge of the outcrop, but she couldn’t see him. The wind shook the trees behind her and suddenly she realized what she had done. She’d sent off her only protection against other Kolkagga. The ones who were still hunting her.
She crawled between some trees and tried to sink into the forest floor. As if that would help if they came. And why wouldn’t they? They lived there, in the mountains. Trained there. She sat turning that thought over in her mind until it was unbearable. She was just about to shout for Rime when her bag thumped onto the ground in front of her.
Hirka hugged it close. She’d gotten a part of herself back. Something they’d taken from her. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.
She started to fiddle with the flap to check that everything was there, but clearly there was a limit to Rime’s patience. He pulled her to her feet and dragged her back to the outcrop. Hirka slung the bag on her back while he pointed at a white dome beneath them. Then he pointed at a tower with steps on the outside, and finally at the red dome. Mother’s bosom. Their goal for that night.
It was a ridiculous plan. He envisaged them jumping between towers and domes as though they had wings. Hirka laughed nervously. It was a long way down. Dizzyingly far to fall. She pulled the woollen jacket she’d borrowed from the raveners around herself. Rime looked at her, and she nodded. She owed him for the bag. But if he had exaggerated his command of the Might, he was in trouble. She would beat the living daylights out of him, Kolkagga or not.
He embraced her. Hirka locked her arms around his neck and let the Might in. It was stronger than before. It ran through her body and made everything bigger. The distance grew between her heart and her lungs. She had room for more air. She could reach further, see more, hear everything. Details emerged from the darkness. The air became crisp as dried leaves. As though it had fallen apart and was trying to piece itself back together again. Then it grew thick around them, and smelled of scorched earth. Ash and fire.
They jumped.
The Might couldn’t stop her from panicking. It just gave her the time and space to recognize the sensation of falling. She could pick the fear apart. Find the various elements of it and put it back together until it was recognizable as panic again, but now in a different way. Rime was a part of her, but also something unfamiliar. A heaviness and a support. He was the earth and the sky, using her to quench its thirst. He got greedier. It started pleasantly enough, like relinquishing all control. But then it was terrifying. She wanted to shout for him to stop, but then she felt the Might make contact with something and they slowed down. They rotated slowly a couple of times. The white dome became a living thing that pushed back against them so that they could land in a controlled manner. Unscathed.
The Might released her, and she clung to Rime to keep from falling off the roof. Her heart was pounding as though she’d run all the way from the city walls. She took a breath. She was alive. And it was glorious!
Rime was poised to jump down onto the bridge that connected the towers. His eyes sparked. Two circles of light around dark chasms. Wild. Hungry for the Might. He grabbed her hand and they leaped. Rime channeled the Might through her. The air moved around them, pulled at them. Investigated them as they flew, as though it didn’t quite know whether they were birds or people.
Then they landed on the bridge. Hirka stumbled and scraped her knee on a broken tile, but it didn’t hurt. She was too exhilarated to feel pain. She grabbed Rime. “I thought it was just a story! I thought only the gods could do something like that!” she said as loud as she dared.
“Maybe we are gods.” He pulled her with him across the bridge, and she heard him laugh. His fingers were locked in hers. He was strong and knew where they were going. He didn’t let go of her until they reached the tower with the steps climbing the outside. It had no windows. An old watchtower. Gongs sounded every hour of the day from here. They ran up the steps, all the way to the top. Hirka tried to hide the fact that she was out of breath, but it wasn’t necessary. Rime wasn’t looking at her anyway. He was standing on the top step, looking at the red dome. They were level with it now. But far away. Really far away.
It wasn’t going to work. They’d hemmed themselves in. Hirka wasn’t sure they’d be able to go back either. She gave Rime a worried look, hoping for confirmation. They would have to call it off.
Rime stood, sizing up the gap for a moment. His lower jaw moved, as though he was mulling it over. He turned, hopped up, and grabbed the edge of the roof above them. The lowest roof tiles had a recess that directed the rainwater away. It was all he needed to pull himself up. It looked absurdly simple. He reached down for Hirka, and she stared at him.
She knew what he was doing. What he was thinking. He needed more height to reach the red dome. Rime had no intention of turning back. He was really going to do it. He was crazy.
Hirka took his hand anyway. She hopped up and let him pull her onto the roof. All of Mannfalla lay before her. Blindból behind her. Historic places. Mystical places. She had never wanted to come to Eisvaldr. Not the way Sylja and so many others did. All the same, here she stood. Breaking in to see a Seer she no longer believed in. Why?
Her life wouldn't be made more worthwhile by prostrating herself on her knees before the Raven. Yet she was going to throw herself off this roof, possibly to her death, with someone who had been sent to kill her. Kolkagga. A son of the Council that had sentenced her to death. Why?
The wind tugged at her body. The air felt thinner. She suddenly felt like a feather. The wind could blow her off the roof at any moment. She felt dizzy and shut her eyes, but opened them again straightaway, because that just made it worse. A cold spread from inside her and out into her fingertips. She was going nowhere, neither up nor down. She was frozen to the spot. What was she going to do? What was she doing here?
She stared at Rime. She knew. She knew with murderous certainty what she was doing here. How long had she loved him? She pleaded for help, without saying a word. They were so high up. He was so much bigger than her. He was Rime An-Elderin, and she wasn’t supposed to be here.
“Sit down,” Rime whispered, and helped her down onto the roof. He crouched down in front of her and told her to breathe from her belly. Slower. Slower still. His voice merged with the wind, but she heard what he said.
“We’re high up. It’s a perfectly normal reaction. Just relax. We’re safe. I know what I’m doing, Hirka. We can make it. Nothing can hurt you.”
She shook her head feverishly and swallowed. He didn’t get it.
“Why can nothing hurt you, Hirka?”
She managed a smile. “Because I’m already dead?”
She took a couple of deep breaths. A couple more. It was just a funny turn. She had started to think about completely different things. Things she should never think about. She was the rot. He was not for her. Could never be for her. She got up. The red dome drew her gaze. It would be suicide. But what did it matter when she would never have what she wanted? She ran her hand over her face.
“You remind me of your father when you do that.” Hirka chuckled. Was it possible to look like someone who wasn’t your real father? Rime cupped her face in his hands. “I know I can do it, Hirka. I can feel it with every fiber of my being. We can’t give up now. If you’re going to do it, do it for truth. For justice.”
No. I’ll do it for you.
But she just nodded. Rime asked her to clim
b up onto his back and lock her arms around his chest. He was going to carry her like a rucksack. He embraced her with the Might, took full advantage of what little run-up the roof afforded, and then launched them both over the edge.
The terror was twofold. She could crash to the ground and have her body broken. Or she could stay here, close to Rime, and be broken on the inside. Did he have any idea what he was doing?
It all happened so quickly. She could feel the wind and Rime’s hair whipping at her face. Yet time also passed so slowly that she could have counted all the lights in the darkness below her if she’d wanted to. His Might swept through her. Cleansed her. Cleared the dust from every part of her body. It was difficult to take. No secret was safe from the Might. It grew stronger than the wind. Cascading through her veins. She could feel every drop of blood in the unstoppable force flowing in and out of her.
Feelings that were not her own welled up inside her. Rime’s will and strength. His doubt. Doubt? What doubt? Pain sliced through her head. Too much. It was too much! She could open herself to even more, but it was too dangerous. It would lay her bare. Expose everything she was. Everything she felt. They were going to fall.
Rime propelled himself forward with everything he had. His shoulder blades separated under her. His fingers reached for the edge. The Might held its breath as they collided with the base of the dome.
Hirka gasped for air and lost her grip on him. She slid down his body. Her bag was weighing her down. She fell. Her hands groped at thin air for something to grab onto. Rime grabbed her forearm. There was a jolt, and she was hanging. Her shoulder was burning. Her elbow was burning.
She was hanging above Mannfalla. From the red dome. A hemisphere, big as a mountain behind Rime. He looked terrified. She started to slip and he tightened his grip around her wrist. Hirka swallowed.
“One point to you if you pull me up.” She smiled to hide the fear in her voice.
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