by Emma Hamm
What was he doing here?
Still, his feet managed to move without him telling them to. They remembered the path he’d taken with his brother. They remembered how to move through the library quietly.
His hands knew the gloves like they were old friends. He slid the kid leather over his hands, catching on calluses he didn’t remember having. And when he reached the very last stack abutting the wall of his palace, his hands reached for the ladder and pulled it into place.
Nadir didn’t know what he was looking for. Somehow, his body had a mind of its own in this moment. It knew where to take him, what his mind needed to calm down.
At the very highest peak of the stack in the library of Bymere, an ancient book rested. It appeared as if no one had picked it up for centuries. Dust had settled in a fine layer over the red leather, so thick he left fingerprints in it when he lifted up the tome.
Brushing his fingers over it, he touched the golden clasp that held it shut.
“The knowledge of the Alqatala,” he murmured, reading the words that had been inlaid with gold leaf.
Lifting the book, he blew the dust off its cover, and then slowly made his way back down the ladder. Perhaps there was something in here that would tell him what to do next. Something that would explain why he was given this task by legendary assassin who shouldn’t even be alive.
And yet, it seemed as though they were.
Nadir took the book to a small seating area in the back corner where no one would find him. There was a candle and a box of matches on the table next to the chair, although neither had been used before. He placed the book carefully on the small table, struck the match on the side of the matchbox, and lit the candle.
The wax heated, and for a moment he saw figures in the candle flame. Dancing figures who lifted their arms above their heads and swayed to music he could almost hear. Drum Beats, ancient and powerful, flowed through his veins like water.
What was happening to him? This wasn’t something he’d ever seen before. Nothing he’d experienced, and yet, there it was.
Shaking his head, Nadir settled onto the chair and resolved to spend the rest of the evening in the library. He was going to discover what this Qatal wanted from him, this assassin woman who had broken into his palace with the sole intent to speak with him.
He’d deal with thoughts of his mother later, but for now, he needed to know what the assassins wanted from him.
8
Sigrid
What had possessed her to think up a mission like this? Sigrid shaded her eyes and stared up at the sky, glowering at the snow which fell in heaps around her. She couldn’t even see where the sun was, or if the sun was still on the horizon. Instead, a blanket of snow covered everything the eye could see.
Even the sky.
Shaking her head, she shifted the straps on her shoulders and continued trudging through the frigid snow.
She didn't know how long she’d traveled. It was easy to lose track of time in this place. She knew it had been at least a week of walking through the forests of Wildewyn. She didn't know what region she was in anymore, or if it were some unnamed region that no one had seen in centuries.
The moment she’d seen the mountains close enough to touch, she’d known she was close to the ancients. The ground seemed to hum with power here. Perhaps not that of the earth, but something far more than just earthen people who tilled the land. There was a call inside her chest that beckoned her forward.
“Come to us,” the words whispered on the wind. “Find us, little child. We were looking for you, too.”
It was the promise to know who she was. To know who her sisters were, where they came from. All the secrets which had been kept from her since the moment of her birth. The longer she traveled, the more Sigrid needed to know the answer to these questions.
Her entire life, she’d been given a designation by other people. She was the daughter of the last dragon. She was the adopted child of an owl but never the same as the rest. She was matriarch, sultana, warrior, all the things that she had been told to be.
No more. She wanted to know who she really was, and that need was something stronger than the desire for water or food.
Thus, she’d climbed the mountain. The first few days had been a struggle. The rocks shifted under her feet and moved when she clambered over them. A few times, she’d been concerned she would fall to her death down the sheer cliff edges. But she’d managed, and eventually she crested the top.
That first moment of elation in knowing that she’d conquered the mountain quickly fell apart when she realized that the mountain wasn’t one peak.
It was many.
The range stretched farther than she could see, disappearing into the horizon and fading away. She would have to make it across all these mountains before she found any secrets. She was almost certain of that.
Even that didn’t deter her. A mountain was still a mountain. She’d already climbed one, and she would climb many more if that gave her answers.
Then, it started to snow. The blistering cold winds wiggled beneath her clothing, forcing her to wear more and more layers until she ran out. Even that wasn’t enough.
Now, her fingers felt as though they were about to fall off. She couldn’t feel the tips, and they’d turned a frightening shade of blue. She wasn’t entirely confident that everything was all right with her body. Even the dragon inside her had quieted into a lethargic grumble.
More snow blasted down from a mountain peak higher up, and Sigrid forgot how to breathe as the cold stole air from her lungs and sent a shiver through her body so forcefully that it nearly knocked her to her knees.
She needed to get warm. Had to find some place to rest, even for a few moments. A winter storm like this couldn’t stay for too long.
A shadow appeared in the distance, looking like a person waving their arm. Sigrid frowned. It wasn’t possible that someone was out here with her. No one would be so foolish as to brave such a storm without good reason.
But there the person was. Standing in the middle of the snow, waving their arm like they thought she couldn’t see them.
For a second, she hallucinated that it was Nadir. Her heart beat faster and her breathing turned ragged. Had he come for her? Had he really come for her?
Of course it wasn’t her husband. He was still in Bymere, with the rest of his people. The ones he’d chosen over her.
Sigrid stumbled, falling to one knee. Icy particles of snow, perhaps freezing rain, rained down on her face. The prickles of pain woke her up a little bit, although her body wanted to stay on the ground. There was something warmer about lying in the snow. She didn’t know how that was possible considering when she placed a bare hand in the stuff it made her fingers ache. And yet, lying down still felt so comfortable…
No. There was a person on the horizon and perhaps they could help her. Maybe there were still people who lived up here. Maybe they had a house, a warm fire, something that would keep her alive for one more night.
She could wait out the storm in their home and then continue on her journey. Surely anyone who lived in this forgotten place would be kind. They’d have to be. The only travelers who came here were sorry souls like Sigrid.
With the promise of somewhere warm to lay her head, Sigrid forced herself back onto her feet. Snow sucked at her boots as she struggled toward the waving figure. Ice jabbed her face and forced her back a few steps every time the wind decided it wanted to push her even farther down the mountain.
Sigrid was persistent, however, and she was not a woman to fall prey to the whims of the earth. She was a dragon, and dragons did not fail.
Step by step, she made it closer to the figure in the distance. Would they be kind? She sincerely hoped they were. She needed someone to take care of her just for a little while. A blanket, a cot, she didn’t even care if it were just lying on the ground in front of their hearth. She wasn’t someone who needed a castle to keep her happy.
The dragon inside her lifted
its head, sniffing the air and trying to figure out what kind of person waved to them. But the cold shards of the air stifled any scent. It was as if there were no one else on the planet but Sigrid and the snow that surrounded her.
“Just a few more steps,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “A few more and then you’ll be there. They’ll give you food, water, maybe a fire. It doesn’t matter, just anything that’s warm and comfortable for a few moments.”
Her toes ached with every step. She couldn’t even feel her fingers anymore, and then there was the way her face felt tight in the frigid air. Would she lose some of her fingers? She’d heard of people losing them before in such cold weather.
Finally, she was close enough that the figure should be able to see her. Lifting her voice, Sigrid called out, “I’m here!”
The figure didn’t react. Instead, they kept waving as if she wasn’t right in front of them.
“Hello?” she asked tentatively.
Again, no reaction changed as the figure continued to wave.
“Oh, no.” Sigrid’s teeth chattered harder and she made the final few steps to the “figure” in the distance who was supposed to be her savior.
She reached out and patted a hand to the part of the short, squat tree with only a single branch to its name. “Just you, old friend. Is that it? No one else?”
Sigrid sniffed loudly, swallowing her emotions and the distinct need to cry. The tears would freeze on her cheeks, and then where would she be? She wouldn’t be able to think, breathe, or even dash away the tears, because they would then freeze on her blackened fingertips that she was already certain she was going to lose.
Looking up into the sky, she tried to slow her ragged breaths. “There’s nothing you can do now,” she told herself. “Just keep moving. One more step.”
Her body didn’t want to move anymore. She couldn’t force herself to take one more step without resting for a little while. Sigrid slumped against the tree trunk and slid down it until her butt touched the ground.
There, that felt a lot better. She could think a little more clearly now that her lungs weren’t working overdrive to feed her pounding heart. She could stay here for a few more minutes and warm herself up.
Body heat had to count for something. She pulled her arms out of the jacket sleeves, tucking them against her heart where there was still a little heat left. If only there was a place out of the wind, then she was certain she could figure out a way to heat herself.
The tree branches rattled above her head. The wind whipped across the mountaintop. She couldn’t see if there was grass underneath all the snow, or if this was merely a barren wasteland of rocks and jagged stones.
Perhaps this was a pretty place once. She could believe that Earthen folk might have climbed to the heights just to see the view. Beyond the curtain of white, all of Wildewyn would be laid bare to her eyes.
She imagined the sight that the snow hid. It would be a glorious unveiling of emerald green and hundreds of rivers that snaked through the forests. Perhaps birds would burst into flight by a hunter who was making his way through the forest in search of something to feed his family.
Maybe even Beastkin could be hidden in that land. She might be able to see the home of the ancients, tucked away far from prying eyes.
What would they look like? She didn’t even know what to think. The legends said they were Beastkin just like her, but somehow, she thought they might not be. They were mythical creatures, stronger than any Beastkin alive. They couldn’t be just regular people who found themselves with a good bloodline.
They might be taller than everyone else. Or maybe, they were so beautiful they would make her eyes burn.
Would they have golden eyes? Eyes that made her heart ache with memories she’d tried so hard to forget?
A gust of wind blew snow in her eyes, making them water in tune with her thoughts. If they were so beautiful, she hoped they might give her a break and not make her cry any more than she already had.
“You have to get up,” she whispered to herself. “You can’t sit here and wait for death to claim you. Stand up, Sigrid.”
With laboring movements, Sigrid rolled onto her hands and knees.
“You’ve survived more than this. You can stand up. That’s all you have to do.”
The words were a lie. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so close to death, and so very alone. A sob wracked her lungs, but she refused to entertain the thoughts that beckoned her to lie down and accept her fate. It would be okay to die in a place like this, the thoughts whispered. No one would find her, and the tree was already here for the ceremonial rights. And hadn’t she already had them?
Perhaps this was the gods telling her that she should have died on that funeral pyre. Maybe this was their punishment for desecrating the old religion.
“No,” she grunted. “I will not die like this, today or any day.”
She heaved herself into a crouch, then forced herself to stand. A fire burned inside her from an ancient past that refused to die. She would not lie down and let death claim her, not when there was still fight inside her.
“Now, find a place to stay for the night. Dig a hole in the ground if you must. Dragons are resourceful. Beastkin know the land, Sigrid. Find something more than just self-pity.”
Had someone said the words to her before? She couldn't remember. They seemed to ring with a memory, but she couldn’t place it with any particular moment in her life. Had her mother said the words?
She didn’t remember her mother very much. They were alike, everyone told her. The dragon mother was in the set of Sigrid’s shoulders. The way she squeezed her jaw when she was angry and the fire that burned deep in her eyes when someone said something wrong.
Even Hallmar had remarked upon it more times than she thought necessary.
“You are your mother’s daughter,” he used to say with a chuckle. “Dangerous and cruel at times, but always for the greater good.”
There was no greater good if she was dead, so Sigrid needed to keep moving. She had to help her people. If that meant finding out who she was so she could lead them better, then so be it.
“Find something,” she told herself again. “Lift your foot, damn it.”
Her foot lifted, then set down in the snow. Every step was an internal battle, and she waged war within her mind for every inch she moved forward. But she moved.
Shading her eyes, Sigrid searched the area for something, anything that would keep her alive. She could figure out how to start a fire. There was enough brush, even if it was hidden by the snow. It would light with dragon breath as long as she could wake up the beast inside her.
“There,” she whispered and pointed out a dark smudge in the distance to herself. “That’ll do.”
The snow tried to keep her where she was. The white powder whispered that she could still lie down. There was still enough time for her to rest, just for a few moments.
She refused.
Sigrid fought her way to the small cave in the side of the mountain and forced herself through the lip. A bear might live within it, and she wouldn’t be much of an opponent for anything at the time. Her greatest hope was that nothing would be so foolish as to live up here.
The snow had blown into the mouth of the cave. She crunched through the icy remains deeper into the mountain where the snow hadn’t touched yet. It wasn’t much of a cave really, shallow with only one turn.
She blew out a breath and reminded herself that beggars couldn’t be choosers. This cave was a message from the gods, so there had to be something more to it. If it got her through the night, then it was enough.
With a groan, she dropped the pack from her shoulders and rubbed her aching muscles.
“Fire first,” she told herself. “Then you can rest. But first, you have to get warm.”
That was the most important thing right now, and the only thought she could have in her mind. It didn’t matter that she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than
to sleep. She had to stay awake for a few more minutes so she could get a fire started.
The cave was so dark; she couldn’t see anything at all. Sigrid took a few steps deeper into it, then stumbled on a pile of something on the ground.
“Don’t be bones,” she muttered. Not that she was afraid of seeing human remains. She’d seen them many times in her life. She didn’t want them to be there because it meant there was something living in the cave. She’d have to deal with whatever it was when it returned to its home to see her taking residence.
Dropping to her hands and knees, she felt around on the ground to touch whatever it was. Bones were usually smooth unless they were chewed upon. Even then, they had a texture she’d never forget. Her fingers bumped a small thing that rattled when she shifted it.
“Damn it.” Her stomach turned into a pit of acid and worries. She didn’t have the energy for this.
She grabbed the object and turned it in her hands. Was it… wood? Lifting it to her nose, she breathed in the scent of earth and dirt. Definitely wood.
“Why is there wood in here?” she muttered.
Sigrid blindly felt around in the darkness. There was a lot more of it, more than enough for a fire to keep her through the night, in fact. They were small, but she should be able to keep the heat centralized… Why was it set up as if someone had intended to build a fire?
Brows furrowed in concern, she reached deep inside herself and woke the dragon. Though cold and tired, it still lifted its head.
“Just a breath,” she whispered. “Like the old times when we wanted to impress people who were visiting Hallmar. It’s a trick of the mind, not a full shift. We’ll get ourselves warm yet.”
Opening her mouth, Sigrid felt the thrum of power deep in her chest. It wasn’t like magic, although there were people in Wildewyn who would disagree with her. It was more like something else living inside her that poked its head out for just a brief moment.