Page 44 of Soul of Fire

“Atthisrate,itwill reach the sea in a week,” Ingmar commented as they scratched out the math on the corner of the map of the Odemark we had rolled out across Arik’s desk. “Possibly days if we’re unlucky.”

“When are we ever lucky?” Serrilda was looking on with crossed arms and her usual impassive expression, but I could tell from her tone that she was as concerned as Ingmar. “It’s gaining speed.”

We frowned down at the map, where the charcoal we had used to mark the growth of the Scar reached toward the sea and the practically defenseless kingdom beyond.

“We’re safe so long as it doesn’t reach the mainland though, yes?” Ingmar shot me a hopeful look. “The odemarksdyr can do no harm at the bottom of the Iron Sea.”

“I certainly hope not.” I shook my head, wishing I knew what to do. “How many attacks have there been in the last week?”

Something was happening out on the ice. More injured drage than usual were returning from patrols needing medical attention, and the number of active attacks was higher than I ever remembered it being.

“Eight this week, if you include the one at the Scar.” Serrilda’s face was grave. “And at least two drage lost. A gold was mauled by a myrkvolf yesterday and hasn’t woken yet.”

“Hearthmother, save him,” Ingmar intoned.

I nodded in agreement, silently cursing our luck. “And have you made any headway in the archives?”

“Not yet.” Ingmar shook their head also, their face drawn in concern as they studied the map. “What’s out here? Beyond the peripheries?”

They pointed to the known edge of the Odemark, where Kaldvik stood as a lone sentry, the abandoned fortress having been unmanned for centuries now.

“More ice?” Serrilda suggested. “The Rift can’t continue on indefinitely.”

“Why do you ask?” I pushed, catching Ingmar’s pensive gaze with my own.

“Well…” They hesitated, running their fingers through their dreadlocks. “There was one mention of ‘darkness’ in the scrolls I’ve gone through already.”

“Explain.” I was trying to keep my voice even, but some of my impatience leaked into it. Serrilda gave me a searching look.

“It said something about the dead lands beyond the Rift.” Ingmar bit their lower lip. “When was the last time patrols were sent out to the peripheries?”

“Before Einar sentus, you mean? Years.“ I shook my head. “I have no idea what ‘dead lands’ could mean.”

“The exiles are at Frostviðr,” Serrilda pointed out, examining the other western outpost on the map. “It’s a day’s flight from Kaldvik at most. You could send them to have a look?”

“I have no desire to explain to Tormund and Aegir or any of the other exiles what we are looking for.” I wondered if Arik had mentioned the banishment to the king, or the fact that our numbers were now below two hundred as a result.

“So tell them something else,” Ingmar suggested. “Tell them you want to check the end of the Rift and nothing more.”

“What if there isn’t an end to the Rift?” I frowned down at the map where the Rift and the Odemark appeared to extend for eternity off the page. Had the drage never truly mapped the full extent of the Rift before? It seemed odd that all of the maps would stop short at Kaldvik.

“Then they fall off the edge of the world, and good riddance.” Serrilda shrugged.

Ingmar laughed, and I fought hard to hide my smile. “Ingmar, can you hunt through the archives for maps instead? There must be another map that shows more than this one.”

Ingmar saluted. “Your wish is my command.” They pecked Serrilda on the cheek and threatened to do the same to me. I rolled my eyes and pushed them out the door.

“And what will you do?” Serrilda asked once Ingmar was gone. Her arms were crossed over her chest in her usual defensive posture.

I deflated, cracking my neck to stall and think.

It would be nothing to send word to the exiles’ dragons,Kindra pointed out, flexing her claws in my mind.The work of a moment.

Do it,I sighed. To Serrilda, I added, “I’ll ask Viggo and Geir to head to Kaldvik. I don’t trust the exiles to tell me what’s really happening out there.”

“Probably for the best.” Serrilda folded up the map neatly. “And me?”

“If Viggo can spare you, I still need someone to go with me to measure the Scar.”