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Now I feel a little stupid. “Well, I thought there were wolves. Or maybe I was just looking for an excuse.” Is that true? Am I that stupid?
It’s not stupid—you have a connection to that place—to whatever’s trapped in that volcano. I shouldn’t have left you so close.
“We’re lucky Hyperion came when he did.”
But why did he come? Concern runs through the bond. He doesn’t like his brother taking an interest or saving me.
“He roasted the demon thing that came after me, which I’d like to think I might have been able to fight, but to be honest, I was pretty exhausted, and I might have been in shock.”
What is it, and how did it get out?
“I have no idea,” I say. “When I got through the tunnel and into the volcanic ante-chamber—actually, I’m not sure what to call that room, to be honest—I thought it was empty, even though I heard the chanting. I felt pretty crazy.”
But you weren’t.
“Well, Hyperion saw the demon too, so I’m going with not crazy, just. . .somehow attuned to a very strange. . .something.”
And? We’re headed back to Selfoss now—I can see it up ahead, set just below the mountains. Unlike before, some of the lights in the houses are on. That’s encouraging.
“Well, when I got there, they were chanting, same as before. They were saying hjartanu, and there’s something else that’s strange.” I pause. I’m not sure how he’ll take this. “At first there were only those demons who were humanoid, but with lots of different sizes and shapes of horns. But then there were also. . .Azar, there were dragon shapes in there, teeming around in the lava.”
Inside the volcano? Now he looks interested. Flame blessed?
I understand why he’d ask. I mean, they are basically swimming in fire. “I couldn’t really tell. They were sort of writhing or, I don’t know, like, dipping and ducking and then disappearing and reappearing in the lava.”
Azar’s shoulders droop a bit—was he that excited at the prospect of more of his kind? That bums me out a little.
“Anyway, the horned guys were the only ones there at first, and they saw me, which was weird, and they all looked for a moment, and then they just stopped caring. I should have been relieved, but it kind of bugged me. How many people really go into that volcano? Shouldn’t my presence be a little exciting? So I pulled my tunic down and showed them my birthmark.”
And?
“They flipped out. They started shouting some other words I can’t remember.”
Try.
“They said something as I was leaving—a girl’s name. Vera, I think?”
And what else?
I shake my head. “It was weird. Like cutch vwaith or something. That’s actually the one they said first. They only said the other one when I went to leave, and then when I left, one of the demon things managed to leave the lava and follow me.”
We should ask the old woman about the words. They could be Icelandic.
“I thought you integrated everything from earth.”
He shakes his head slowly back and forth. I only learned a handful of languages that were flagged as the most common. English. Hindi. Mandarin. Spanish. Russian. Arabic. The others we merely learned the words for “the heart.” In any case, information about specific nations, especially small ones like Iceland, wasn’t considered critical. There may be a blessed here who knows more, but we should ask the woman first. She may also know local legends about the volcano.
Before I even realize what we’re doing, Azar’s landing in front of the woman’s tiny house. “She may be asleep,” I say. “It’s nearly morning here.”
But she’s not. She’s sitting on her porch, her eyes wide, her face turned toward the sky, staring at the two strike blessed darting back and forth across the sky, silver flashes against the aurora borealis.
Until we land. Then her attention is fully returned to us.
“I wonder if she’ll cry again,” I whisper. “At your unbearable magnificence.” I can’t help teasing him.
Shut up.
At least his shaky, I’m-so-upset-I’ll-either-incinerate-something-or-cry energy is gone. That was disturbing. “Sorry to bother you again,” I say.
