Page 19 of The Viking in the Vault
For us, this is an exciting discovery. But for him…it occurs to me that he just realized everyone he ever knew is dead.
Slowly, he sinks to his knees, his massive frame folding in on itself as he buries his face in his hands. Fenrik goes up to nudge him, and I move closer. God…he’s sobbing. I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder, wishing this stupid puffer coat wasn’t between us. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t know…”
Then I hear something from out in the corridor.
Voices.
Ragnar and Fenrik seem to notice at the same time, distracted before by our discovery. Fenrik’s hackles go up and he growls, Ragnar jolting up to his feet. He looks back toward the corridor, then he strides forward and grabs his sword off the floor, pulling a matching blade from his other hip.
“Wait!” I cry. I can recognize Ves’s voice out there, murmuring with a couple others. My friends…they’re coming for me. “Ragnar, they’re my friends! You can’t hurt them.”
He doesn’t listen, snarling as he tries to get between me and the door, his back to me. I manage to slip past him, raising my hands in front of me. “It’s okay!” I tell him. “Please put the swords away–”
“Elena?” Ves calls from the corridor.
“I’m here!” I call back over my shoulder. “Just…move slowly, okay? And speak English, my translator was damaged–”
“Why?” Dr. Kallisto’s voice comes next, clearly agitated. “Are you–”
She stops dead when they come around the corner…and I realize everyone else just got a peek at the ancient alien I found in the Eiskammer.
I glance back and see my friends standing there–Ves, Rishik, and Cosmia, along with Renata Kallipso. Dr. Kallipso is utterly transfixed, while Ves’s eyes light up at the sight of Ragnar.
“What the…” Ves starts.
Ragnar takes a menacing step forward, growling low in his throat. That growl, terrifying as it is, somehow forms words–words in his language–and from the look on their face, Ves seems to understand. They respond in that same language, a little slower.
That seems to calm Ragnar down, or at least throw him for a loop. He relaxes his stance just a smidge, cocking his head.
“What did you say to him?” I ask Ves.
“I told him we’re not going to hurt him,” they say. “He thinks we’re in a Borean prison and doesn’t know what’s going on.”
I look back at Ragnar, whose eyes dart back to me. I can’t imagine how he feels right now; what felt like a good night’s sleep to him was actually thousands of years. I step toward him, reaching out and touching his forearm. He jerks slightly, that blade coming dangerously close–then he checks himself and lets me lower his hands.
“You’re safe,” I tell him. I can hear Ves translating behind me, their voice stilted in Ragnar’s language. “This is not a Borean prison. The Boreans are gone, and you’re on M’mir in the Skoll Wilds.”
Ragnar’s eyes dart around, up toward the ceiling, to me, to Ves. His breath is shaking as he lets out a stream of words, voice hoarse.
“He says this couldn’t possibly be M’mir,” Ves translates. “That…hold on, I’ve never actually heard someone speak this language before. He says…he says M’mir is still primitive. Nothing like this exists there. He…oh no.”
I glance back at them. “What?”
Ves gulps. “He wants to know what year it is. What should I tell him?”
I step forward, motioning for Ragnar to put his weapons away. He frowns, clearly wanting to keep them out…but then he assents. Once they’re gone, I take his hands in mine.
“Tell him the truth,” I murmur.
Ves nods, then I hear another stream of those ancient words. Ragnar blinks, brow furrowed…and his shoulders slump as he mutters a few bitter words.
“How’d he respond?” I ask.
Ves sighs. “I told him the Lost Expeditions vanished over four thousand years ago,” they say. “And he just said that he should be dead.”
10
RAGNAR
