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Skítkast had been silent.Eerily so since we’d returned from Furen with more supplies, noble pupils who’d be locked away in the rooms of the nest, and more death on our hands.
Silence in battle was never good. It meant schemes, plots, and danger lurked in nearly every moment. The tension prickled down each wall, each breath, each furtive look the warriors or thieves gave when they peeked around corners.
Two long days after returning from the academy, my skull was about to split down the center.
I’d overused mesmer in between gathering and searching for information on the ring. With Niklas reading everything he could on shadow walking, or any transport mesmer, I’d practiced repeatedly, using the shadows to walk through fear.
“If it is body mesmer,” Niklas said after I shadow walked from one side of our fortress to the other in the blink of an eye, then collapsed in an exhausted heap at his feet. “Then the only way I can explain this is you now have the ability to connect to those brief surges in our heads.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Oh, you do so.” He slammed his book shut and crossed his legs under him. “I’ve explained this before. Our mesmer connects to different pathways leading to different areas in our brains. With fear, there is a response, yes? Adrenaline, or some folk freeze, too stunned to move. A surge, a spark in that pathway where fear triggers an instinct.”
“So, I’m walking through fear. We knew this.”
“You said you hear the fears of others when the shadow walls form, right?”
“Yes. It is like I’m walking into a thousand different voices, all compiled into one cloud of darkness.”
“I think, almost know . . . I’d say I’m very close to knowing for certain, that for some reason you can now take those initial sparks of fear from others. And as quickly as those initial adrenaline surges come to our bodies, you can now travel just as swiftly.”
“So, I’ve become their adrenaline surge of fear.”
“Yes!” Niklas laughed heartily. “Yes. Think of yourself as our own dose of terror. The first spark of fright. There and gone in an instant, leaving us to wonder if we should flee or pick up our blades and fight. It’s remarkable, and we should do all we can to add your new Talent to our plans.”
Niklas said the words, but he knew me. The first moment I stepped through that first shadow, it was already part of the plan.
Later, I nursed a bit of my exhaustion with hot brän, staring mutely at the wall of paintings Niklas had smuggled from somewhere in the Western Kingdom. A wall of images of the gods’ tree, of the three Norns, even the myth of the giant squirrel guarding the tree. Bright, violent strokes shaped the scenes, and I had not blinked away from the three wicked ladies of Fate for the last clock toll.
If Malin was their chosen queen, how was I to get the damn ring to prove it?
The trouble with trying to build a scheme to find a well-hidden ring was the damn risk of leaving our refuge. After the academy, more rewards were offered to the underbelly for the head of the Malevolent, and the capture of the memory thief.
As I feared, the lack of demands for Malin’s blood left me wondering if Ivar planned to keep her for himself. To use her. Death would be more merciful than such a fate.
After numerous arguments and protests about who would keep searching, Valen had sent Frey and Axel.
Two brothers who were fiercely loyal and sly, they’d been wandering the streets of Skítkast with Ari under guise. The ambassador was to hide their accents with his illusions, and the three were to behave as traders.
“Gods, give me something to spar.” Halvar sat across the room from me and sighed at the earthy ceiling.
“Bored?”
“I left my wife and son for a battle, not lounging about.”
“Hells, did you breed?”
Halvar blew out his lips and looked back to the ceiling. “Did I breed? Yes, Nightrender. My wife makes me rather insatiable. In fact, another reason I would like to get on with this fight is to return before our second little is born.”
“A second.” I scoffed. “We were only in the North two turns ago and you already have two littles?”
“As I said, the woman is a breathtaking sight from the gods.” Halvar closed his eyes as if imagining his wife. “I cannot keep my hands off her, and plan to create our own army.” He let out a long sigh, a smile carving over his mouth. “Ah, the things I will do to the woman when I return. Of course, I will have to lie about all my brave acts since the truth will be I sat in a fortress, eating, and drinking, and getting plump.”
“An army of your littles would be terrifying.”
“Or glorious.” Halvar paused for a long moment. “Help me understand something. If this ring Malin must wear is so powerful, then why have your enemies not claimed it as theirs?”
“I cannot say for certain. The ring is a relic used by two ancient bloodlines. Hagen, Bard, even Luca have blood of the lost royals. This means Niall and Ivar could convince folk they are the fated heirs.”
