Page 65 of Storm of Desire
"What are they looking for? Do you think they know you're on theground?"
"I doubt it. Whatdrekiin her right mind wouldchooseto flee in mortalform?"
"Then what are they looking for?" He squeezed his leather gloves in his hands. "They've been doing sweeps allmorning."
"Perhaps they think I'm trying to hide in some crevice? There are mountains, fissures, and glaciers all over theisland."
"I've seen your brother, Rurik, indrekiform. He gleams like a gold twenty-crown coin. It's not precisely the best color to blend in with the rocks, and he said you're the exact samecolor."
Shehesitated.
"What?"
"It'snothing."
"Árdís."
"I've rarely left court," she snapped, more than a little defensively. "I have a small mountain and territory I call home, but my mother insists I spend most of my time close to her wing. Perhaps they think Iwouldbe foolish enough to hide on a graymountainside."
"Then they don’t know you well enough." She'd never been afool.
The answer seemed to mollify her, despite the lingering tension between them. Haakon scrubbed a hand through his hair. They couldn’t travel at night. Not only was it dangerous, but they’d never see thedrekicoming.
"There's one place we could go where they won't fly over," Árdíssaid.
He looked at her sharply, alerted by hertone.
"You’re not going to likeit."
"It’s off-road, isn’tit?"
Árdísnodded.
If they had to hide like this every two minutes, then they’d never get to the coast. He breathed out his frustration. "Why won’t they go there?" Not much scareddreki.
Árdís shuddered a little. "Because it’s the territory of He Who Should Not BeWoken."
He Who—?He looked at her sharply. "Is this some sort ofdrekilegend?"
"No. It's my great-grandfather,Fáfnir."
"I've heard stories about Fáfnir. He's amyth."
"I assure you he's not. He's a grumpy, spiteful olddrekiwho’s not very fond of the rest of us. Fáfnir was once the king of thedrekicourt," she said. "He helped forge the treaty betweendrekiand mankind in this country, until his grandson—my father—overthrew him. He's near the end of his existence now, and spends most of his time in a hibernation state, deep in the heart of his volcano, listening to the rumblings of the earth. Some rumors state he's almost turning to stone himself, but nodrekiwants to find out the truth for himself. Just in case they wakehim.
"If we skirt the edges of Fáfnir's territory, then we can ride north with no one the wiser. By the time we leave his territory, we should be clear of the sweeps they're making, and can rejoin theroad."
"And what makes you think your great-grandfather will allow you in his lands?" From what he'd seen of Rurik, mostdrekiwere frightfullyterritorial.
"He probably won't even know I'm there. My resonance is smaller when I'm in thisform."
"Resonance?"
She shrugged. "It's... got to do withdrekimagic. In our natural forms, we're more focused on the earth and the elements. We exist in a state closer to the magical and the spiritual, and hence we exude stronger magical emissions. In this mortal body, the echo I cast is smaller." She held up her wrist, producing the manacle. "And I daresay I'm emitting virtually nothing at this moment. I feel blind to the world aroundme."
Haakon stared north, along the gravel road. Then he turned and glanced to the east, and the spine of snow-capped mountains that existed here. A single pyramid of stones shaped like an old woman marked the trail into Fáfnir's territory. The locals called themkerlingar.
"Trust me," she whispered. "Please. I don't want to be caught any more than youdo."
