Chapter 29
I wound through the torches more slowly this time, contemplating each step and often closing my eyes to refer back to the map I’d drawn on the ground. I’d tried to stamp it into my brain, and so far, it was serving me well. Every step was careful, methodical, and though it was a struggle to keep my eyes from the enormous dragon, I kept my head down and my mind focused.
Halfway through. The dragon remained still, watching, waiting. Two-thirds. No missteps. The torches remained lit, quiet, allowing us to pass through, so long as my steps were correct. Almost there. Metres remained between me and the last of the flames.
And I hit a wall in my mind. A large handful of torches remained to pass, yet try as I might, I couldn’t recall the pathway for my final steps. I turned in a circle, taking in all of the lights around me, yet no answer presented itself. My skin grew hot with anger, anger at myself for forgetting, at the dragon for barring my way, at the Goddess for making this journey so difficult.
I gripped my hair with both hands and shut my eyes, imagining I was outside in the wide open night, staring up at the stars. I could see the stars spread above me, but the focus and confusion of the night left some of them blurred, made my mind second guess itself when it was once sure. No matter how long I thought or how hard I concentrated, I couldn’t recall the answer. I couldn’t remember which of the torches to pass through. I hissed a breath of air out through my teeth and opened my eyes. I’d just have to pick. There were two pathways that, in my mind, stood an equal chance of being right. With no obvious answer, I’d have to make the best educated guess I could. If I was wrong, flames would send me running again – or worse, burn me alive – and the whole maze would reset. Time was against me. Anything could be happening back home. They could all have perished for all I knew. I couldn’t afford to have to start again.
And yet, guessing was my only option.
With a quick glance at the dragon, who sat with its head still near the roof, gleaming eyes watching my every move, I drew in a steadying breath and stepped between the final set of torches to my left.
Nothing happened.
The torches remained as they had been, I fell to my knees and breathed deeply, the relief so sweet it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Finally, something had gone right. I’d accomplished something, and after all of the fear and exhaustion and heartbreak I’d been through, I allowed myself a quiet moment of relief. I wasn’t cut out for these things – at least, I didn’t think I was. I could fish and help in sailing a boat, I could feed sheep and help shear them, I could read the stars and tell stories, but I hadn’t been born to fight. I hadn’t been born to face creatures from myth and fable, to do battle with monsters and outsmart living stone. It was all so much – too much – but this one success offered the sweetest sense of joy I’d ever known.
When I stood up, the dragon hadn’t moved. I looked around for a door, turning slowly, but if there was one, it was blocking the way. Why hadn’t it moved? I took a step closer, terrified and exhilarated, but it remained in place – and rose to a menacing height until its head touched the ceiling.
A deep, rumbling growl rose from its throat. Shining, translucent wings fanned out from its arched back and consumed the room around it. I stared, barely able to breathe, as it challenged me to pass by. The shaking relief and exhaustion of mere moments before melted away in the blistering heat of my anger. If my suspicions were right, the Goddess’s peak lay just beyond this dragon. It was the final few steps before I reached Her, before I succeeded in a mission that could mean the difference between life and death for so many.
This dragon would not stop me. I had a will wrought of stone and ice, and as strong as the sea. I’d been raised by the cold, shaped by an island that traded in death and disaster. This wasn’t the first monster I’d faced and it likely wouldn’t be the last – but let my soul be damned to whatever hell awaited it if I let this creature stop me from reaching that temple.
It was likely of no use against such a beast, but I withdrew the small knife Sejer had given me from my belt and held it firmly in one hand.
“I am getting to that temple,” I said aloud, my voice reverberating through my body. “I am reaching that temple with you dead or alive.”
Slowly, the dragon tilted its head to one side, as though pondering my words. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn it was smiling. I didn’t have a plan, not even a hint of one, but I took three bold steps closer to the dragon before stopping. Claws unfurled from its wings, long, narrow claws that reminded me of the icicles that would hang from roofs and doorways. It would be far too easy for them to slip into my skin, to rip my body to shreds and leave me drowning in blood. If nothing else, I had to avoid those claws.
This time, it wasn’t a deep, low growl that rose from its throat, it was a thunderous roar that erupted from its core, shaking the room until loose stones rattled on the ground. The terror the sound gave off ignited my spirit and I let out a scream of my own. It sounded small compared to the dragon’s, but it was loud in my ears and energizing in some unexplainable way. When we’d both died down, it took a handful of heavy, rumbling steps towards me. I danced to the side, hyper aware that it would take one breath to incinerate me, and one swipe of those claws to eviscerate me. A creature like that didn’t have to struggle to kill a girl like me.
There was a whoosh as its tail came sweeping towards me. I flattened myself to the ground in an instant as it whirled by overhead, just grazing my outermost layers. Without waiting for it to try again, I rolled away and leaped to my feet. Another violent whisper cut through the air, and I looked up to see a wing – and a set of shining claws – descending on me. I ran as far and as fast as I could, despite the closeness of the room. There weren’t many places to go. I saw a glimpse of an ornate, arched doorway behind the bulk of the dragon’s body, but it made sure to stay just enough in place that I couldn’t get by it. I’d either have to be larger, smarter, or wait for a miracle.
I backed up close to the torches to take in the creature, to see if any opportunities presented themselves, but there was nothing. It filled up most of the space in this part of the room, making any thoughts of sneaking around it impossible. My hands fell to my sides as defeat wound its way around my heart and mind. There has to be a way. There has to be a way. I tried once more, summoning all of the courage I had left and gripping my little knife as tightly as I could, and then charged forward with a shout that carried all of my strength behind it.
At my approach, the dragon lowered its head and roared, flattening its wings and tail to the ground until there was no way around it. I stopped my advance, knife still raised, but my will downtrodden. Unless there was another way to Her temple, I’d never get around this dragon. I could keep trying until I passed out from exhaustion or I could give up now.
The dragon blinked its eyes and seemed to tilt its head, watching something behind me. Slowly, it raised its head, eyes still fixed on something I couldn’t see. I was afraid to look away, to let those claws and teeth out of my sight, but something held its attention, and I had to know what it was.
Turning slowly, listening for the sudden whooshing of a tail or wing, I saw Uxi sweeping down from the opening in the roof, a beacon of white light in the darkened room.
“Uxi,” I said, confused and dazed, blinking.
He took little notice of me, soaring towards the dragon who sat alert, tense. It was almost laughable, the visceral reaction such a large beast had to one so small. But in some strange way, I could understand it. Both were winged creatures, and at its heart, the dragon was an animal, of sorts. Easily distracted by the new arrival of a living thing.
Distraction.
I glanced from the dragon to Uxi, who was diving and circling around the great icy head, moving in close and then spiralling away at the last moment before the jaws clamped down. Uxi was small and agile, unlike the great hulking dragon. He could take care of himself.
I took a few slow steps to the side, testing to see if it would notice my exit. Then, when I was sure it was deeply engaged with Uxi’s distraction, I bolted for the door.
Relief hit me almost as strongly as the cold wind. The doorway led to a narrow ridge between mountain peaks. Ahead of me, slightly to the left, was the highest, blessed peak I’d come in search of.
I fell to my knees and cried beneath the stars I loved so dearly. Ever since those red lights had shone in the sky, since those Ør scouts had stalked us into that forest, since I’d decided what I needed to do, I’d been dreaming of this moment. Dreaming of reaching this very place. Now that I was here, it didn’t feel real, and I wanted to clutch at my surroundings in case I woke up. In case my mind ripped it all away from me and I awoke back in Neska, doomed to die.
I rose and moved across the ridge, no longer feeling the bite in the wind that whipped against my body. I couldn’t feel pain or cold. I could only feel a joy, a relief, so intense I didn’t know if I could stand it. It wasn’t over yet, far from it, but this peak before me, this tower of stone reaching up towards the stars, was the first, bold step in seeing this journey through. It was like crossing a stream, just wide enough to not know whether even a running jump would be enough, or a few confident strides that proved my legs were longer than I thought would get me to the other side. A step towards saving my people.
At the end of the ridge was another doorway, through which I moved gingerly.
I turned to take in where I was, and my breath left my lungs. I was inside the highest peak, in a rounded room that had no roof. The curved walls swept up towards the sky and then ended in a series of wild, jagged points, beyond which the stars were visible. A light, cool breeze came down to meet me, but it wasn’t that biting cold wind from outside. It was gentle, almost refreshing. Around the walls were strange, beautiful inscriptions – and I recognized them as the Ploughstyle writing Ivar had shown me. Curved lines rising up and down, with meanings that were lost on me.
In the centre of the room was a raised stone slab – an altar, I thought. That was all it could be.
But perhaps the most notable thing about the room was how it felt. My body tingled, like the feeling of sparks from a fire kissing my skin. The very air I breathed was different, so pure and clean I could feel it in my lungs. Being here, ragged and worn as I was, felt disrespectful.
I took a few steps towards the altar, which was carved with a grace I was sure could bring even the Ør to their knees. I’d heard of altars before – used mostly for sacrifices – and the words of the king echoed back to me. We will drain you of your blood and present it to Her on an altar. Somehow, being here now, that didn’t seem right. This was a place of beauty and peace. Blood and sacrifice didn’t belong in here.
Slowly and deliberately, I took in a long breath. It washed through my body, bathing my soul in peace. No, angry and violent as the snow people were, their bloodshed didn’t belong here.
When I studied the altar in more detail, my eyes fell on a little groove near one end, the perfect size to rest a head in. I moved to sit, inspired, but hesitated. If standing on the floor of this room felt disrespectful, touching the altar was something else entirely. And yet, my instincts urged me on. It felt right, like I was meant to do it, like it was somehow the point of this entire journey to the mountains.