Page 173 of Master of Storms
An eerie effect.
The facts were realigning themselves: She was no longer on her world. Her bond to Rurik—once something she’d considered forged in iron—was gone, or smothered so deeply she could barely feel it.
And this was the land of thealfar.
Though there was nothing moving in the forests right now, they’d be out there. Somewhere.
Fine. There was no point crying over spilt milk. It was what it was.
“You brought us here,” she said, returning her attention to Ishtar. “Do you think you can take us back?”
The young woman’s nose was still bleeding. Freyja took mercy on her and helped her sit on a nearby log.
“My head hurts,” Ishtar replied, her lower lip shivering.
It was cold, and the wind pricked through her shawl, but the temperature hadn’t bothered her too much. She pressed a hand to her sister-in-law’s temples, then jerked her hand back in surprise. “You’re burning up.”
Was this some residual effect of the portal? An overuse of Chaos magic?
“He’s gone,” Ishtar said, staring glassy eyed at the world around her. “Marduk’s gone. I’m so tired.”
And speaking out loud when she always preferred a mental connection. That alone was sign of Ishtar’s exhaustion.
Freyja caught her hope behind her teeth. To create a portal between worlds was a feat of strength she couldn’t even imagine. There was no way that Ishtar could resurrect such a feat anytime soon.
Shelter.
Warmth.
Food and drink.
Ishtar could rest, and maybe when she was feeling better, they could return.
“Come on,” she said. “We have to get moving. If this is the portal in Álfheimr then it stands to reason that it would either be patrolled or watched. We need to—"
Awooo!
A howl echoed to her left.
Stillness slid down her spine like a trickle of ice water. Her breath caught.
Awooo!
To the right.
“Mother of Christ,” she whispered, crossing herself out of old habit.
A sleek white shape darted through the trees nearly fifty feet away.
“Get up!” Freyja hauled Ishtar to her feet. “Can you run?”
Ishtar tried.
Freyja grabbed her skirts and slogged through the snow. It was ankle deep. She managed three steps before she realized the howls behind her were very clearly pushing them in one direction.
She’d gathered enough sheep in her time to know how to push them where she wanted them.
A flash of white loped along beside them, keeping pace.
