“No, I wish to stop them from doing something so terrible that there is no coming back from it.”
The queen leaned forward, her eyes calculating. “You will go against this Vertulious, will you not?”
“If I have to.”
She settled back on her throne, a satisfied look on her face. “Fine. I will grant you safe passage, but I require payment.”
“We have no money,” Hugo said.
The queen shrugged. “Some things have great value and are worth nothing. Give me your most prized possession, and you may pass.”
“Here.” Abigail dug into her pocket and pulled out the small crystal. “A teardrop that belonged to my mother.”
“Abigail, no,” Hugo said. “You can’t.”
Capricorn leaned forward, pinching the small stone and holding it up to the light. “Yes. This will do nicely.” She took off her crown and pressed the stone into an open spot. It sunk into the smooth surface, winking as the light caught it. She replaced her crown. “You will be returned to your ship. But I fear you will not succeed. In the end, your bones will end up in my sea.”
Chapter 12
Daylight was just forming when Abigail bobbed to the surface next to Hugo. They swam to the side of the ship, eager to get out of the chilly water, as the mermaids left with a flash of their tails.
“So you survived.” Jasper grunted, tossing them each a blanket.
“B-b-barely,” Hugo said through chattering teeth. “I th-th-thought we were g-g-goners.”
“The mermaids were actually nice,” Abigail said, shivering. “Their queen, Capricorn, agreed to let us pass.”
“You had to give her your mother’s teardrop,” Hugo reminded her.
“Mermaids are evil creatures. Don’t ever trust one,” Jasper said. “They have a heart colder than that of a witch, and making trouble’s in their blood.”
Jotunheim loomed in front of them. Stark cliffs lined the shore—impossible to scale. Snow-capped mountains rose beyond them, disappearing into the endless gray clouds that surrounded the island. The only access was a narrow channel that led inland, carved by a dark river that flowed into the sea.
“Do you think it’s as cold as it looks?” Hugo asked.
“Colder.” Jasper hauled the sails up. “One moment you’ll be talking about the weather, and the next you’ll be frozen solid as a statue, waiting for a spring that never comes.”
The ship listed heavily, but it made its way slowly upriver. Chunks of ice floated past, bumping against the boat. After a while, the chunks got so thick it became hard to move forward. The boat slowed until it finally came to a stop.
“That’s as far as she’ll go,” Jasper said. “The ice is too thick. If we keep going, we’ll be stuck here forever.”
“You need to turn back,” Abigail said. “Take the boat downriver until we’re ready to return.”
Jasper frowned. “I can’t leave two younglings alone in this wild place. The giants will have you for breakfast.”
“We’re not helpless,” Abigail said. “I am a witch, and Hugo is very capable. If we don’t have a boat, we can’t leave.”
Jasper studied her for a long moment and then scowled. “I suppose you’re right. But I don’t like it. If Odin hears of this—”
“He won’t,” Hugo said, “because it’s going to be fine. Right, Abigail?”
“Right. Take the boat downstream, and we’ll send a signal when we’ve got what we came for.”
Jasper laid a hand on her shoulder. “Good luck, Blue Witch. This ain’t going to be easy.”
Abigail and Hugo climbed over the side of the ship, and Jasper lowered them onto a sturdy ice floe. They raised a hand in goodbye, then turned and began to walk upriver. At first they had to hop from floe to floe, but soon the ground had frozen solid, and it was easier to make headway. The walls on either side were slick with ice-covered stone.
“How long do you think it goes on like this?” Abigail asked.
“I don’t know, maybe forever.”
She elbowed him. “Not funny.”
“A little funny. I think we’ll get there soon.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I see a bridge.”
He pointed at the way ahead. Sure enough, the chasm was crossed by a stone bridge that spanned both sides of the river. Frozen moss and green algae glistened through the ice.
“How do we get up there?” Abigail asked.
“I think we might be able to climb.” Hugo felt along the wall. “Look here—the walls are made of clay. Someone’s chiseled holes, like handholds.”
“I’ll go first.” Abigail hoisted herself up the first step. “I think this will work,” she said as she reached for the next hole.
They climbed steadily, their breath steaming in the air.
Abigail was near the top, reaching for the ledge, when something popped out of the wall right in front of her face. It was an animal with white fur and a round head at the end of a long narrow neck. Its sharp little teeth nipped at her wrist. Startled, she screamed and drew her hand back, losing her grip.
She scrabbled to find a grip. “Hugo, hang on!” she called, and then a strong arm reached out and grabbed her wrist. Below her, Hugo grasped on to her ankle, and they dangled in midair. With a loud grunt, their savior hauled them atop the ledge.
They turned to find themselves staring down into the face of a stalwart bearded figure no bigger than a child.
“You’re not a very big giant,” Hugo said.
“Giant?” The bearded figure laughed. “I hardly think anyone’s ever called me that. Name’s Rego. I’m a dwarf, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m Hugo, and this is Abigail.”
Rego sketched a bow. “Pleasure to meet you both. I thought you were goners there.”
“We would have been if you hadn’t grabbed on to me.” Abigail rubbed the red mark on her wrist. “Something came out of the wall and bit me.”
“A hoblet, most likely,” Rego said with a grunt. “They like to burrow and nest in the cliffs. They’re pesky little vermin—they’ll steal you blind if you’re not careful.”
Abigail took a good look around. Snowy blankets draped towering trees, and icicles hung from their branches like pointed teeth. Snow began to fall, fat flakes that drifted down and clung to her lashes. An icy wind whistled through the trees, and she shivered, feeling the chill deep in her bones. “Is it always this cold here?”
Rego laughed. “This is a summer’s day compared to some, little lady.”
“I’m not a little lady,” Abigail said haughtily. “I am a witch.”
Rego grew still, staring at her as if she’d grown an extra head. That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to admit, she realized, since no one in Orkney particularly liked witches.
But Rego merely said, “Witch or not, you’ll be needing shelter. Come along, I don’t want you freezing to death and having the witches blame poor Rego.”
The dwarf set off, jauntily forging a trail in the snow. Abigail and Hugo tried to keep up, but they were panting and heaving before long.