Page 18 of Storm of Fury
“How about I sweeten the deal?” Bryn tugged a magical compass from one of the travel pouches that hung at her belt. Crafted by one of thesvartálfar, one of its needles pointed north and the other spun in slow, lazy circles as if searching for something. “You have a set of random directions that mean nothing. So unless one of you knows where this ‘above the fire and below the stars’ is, you’re still no closer to Marduk.”
The Blackfrost’s eyes narrowed upon her compass. “Is that—?”
“Dwarven forged,” she told him with a dangerous smile. “All I need is the blood of one of Marduk’s family and a chant that only I know of, and I can lead you directly toward him.”
The Blackfrost paced a small circle around her. “A Valkyrie’s sword, and a dwarven compass. You’re starting to intrigue me, woman.”
“I like to be useful,” she told him.
His gaze shuttered. “Hmmm.”
Haakon grabbed his forearm. “We’re not seriously considering this, are we? We know nothing about her.”
The Blackfrost looked down at Haakon’s hand, then up with an arch of his brow.
Haakon let him go but the pair of them stared at each other for a long, bristling moment.
“I have heard of a compass crafted by the Sons of Ivaldi,” the Blackfrost said slowly, “that can lead you to anything your heart desires. It could be useful.”
Haakon swore under his breath, giving Tormund a helpless look.
“I’m with him,” Tormund said, holding his hands over one of the burning corpses as if to warm them. “She’s useful.”
“With him? Or withher?” Haakon muttered savagely.
Bryn pretended not to hear him.
The Blackfrost curled his lip. “You will come,” he told her. “And Marduk will pay you what he owes. But you will not interfere in our quest, you will keep your head down and your mouth quiet, and if you so much as think about crossing us, I will fly you over a volcano and drop you inside it.”
Bryn swallowed. “I won’t interfere.”
She had to trust that Solveig would handle the Blackfrost when the time came.
Orcould.
“Now,” Haakon turned toward the southern road. “Let’s go find our precious little princeling.”
“And a lake,” Tormund said, staring pointedly at the Blackfrost. “Otherwise he’s going to have to fly downwind.”
* * *
The songon the wind called to him.
It gusted through icy mountain passages and whispered across the snow-covered expanse of barren plains. It haunted his nights and could be heard fluting through the enormous pines that soared toward the skies.
Marduk didn’t know who sang it, but the song had been whispering at him ever since he was born, and curse him for a fool, but he needed to know who it belonged to.
“Who are you?” he sent into the void, whenever the singer’s thoughts tangled with his own.
“Who are you?” she whispered back, one cold and lonely night.
That night had been months ago, luring him toward the east.
And it was only now, watching steam plume from a nearby mountain that he sensed its owner’s nearness.
He was so close to finding her.
And nothing was going to stop him.
