I cursed under my breath. If I knew a bit more magic, I could ascend to the astral plane, or whatever Galin had called it. I could search for the source of the draugr hordes from the safety of my room. But I didn’t know how to do that. In fact, I only knew two spells: fire and portals.
Just as I was trying to formulate my thoughts, a strange scratching noise rose from the fireplace.
Barthol whirled to stare at it.
“It sounds like an animal,” whispered Sigre.
“Probably a bird,” said Bo. “They fly down chimneys sometimes.”
“But not when there’s a fire burning,” said Harald. He stood next to Sigre, a silver dagger gleaming in his hand.
A great cloud of soot and sparks erupted from the fireplace, and a large raven burst into the room, with dark magic spilling from its body.
Chapter 4
Ali
The raven circled the room, squawking. Then suddenly it landed in the center of the table. It cocked its head, fixing me with a beady eye.
Swegde drew his sword, and it glinted in the firelight.
The raven began to hop towards me, its talons clacking on the old wood. I pointed Skalei at it. Ravens were sacred, but the stench of decay curled from it, and shadows thickened the air around it.
With a shout, Swegde lunged, slashing with his sword, but the bird hopped above the blade and began flying around the room again.
Barthol sidled up to me, as Sigre began screaming, “It’s a harbinger of death. We’re all going to die!”
The raven landed on the top of a door frame, squawking angrily at Swegde. Swegde stalked towards it, ready to slash at it again. But even as he did, the bird fixed its gaze on me, black eyes flashing with a keen intelligence that did not belong to a bird.
The hair on my arms stiffened. I stepped back. And yet, even as I did so I felt my fear wane.
Something about the bird seemed familiar. Ravens were the messengers of the gods, and Galin had once told me that he’d kept them as pets. And as for the dark magic? Maybe that reminded me of Galin, too.
Stop thinking about him, Ali. Stop. Thinking. About. Galin.
As I tried to collect my thoughts, Lynheid stepped forward. Her silvery Night Elf eyes shone as she stared at the raven. She pointed to it. “I believe the creature has a package tied to its leg.”
I frowned. Sure enough, tied just above its right foot was a small leather pouch.
“Just give me a moment to kill it,” said Swegde, lifting his sword over his head.
“No, wait!” I shouted, and Swegde lowered his sword. “Killing isn’t always the answer to everything, Swegde. Put your sword away.”
The bird cocked its head, and I had the disturbing sense that it could understand what I was saying. Fixing me again with its beady black eyes, it flew across the room and landed on the table in front of me.
It stared at me unblinking, darkness staining the air around it.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” I said softly.
The raven moved closer. It squawked again, so loudly I winced. Then, as delicately as a house cat looking to get petted, it stepped into my hand.
I heard Sigre breathe in sharply, but the bird curled its head under a wing.
Carefully, I undid the leather ties that held the pouch closed. Inside was a small piece of parchment. As soon as I drew it out, the raven leapt into the air, flying around the room and screeching. Then, it flew into the fireplace, leaving us once more in the quiet.
“That raven was cursed,” Sigre whispered. “Someone in this room has a black hex.”
Ignoring the High Elf princess, I unrolled the parchment. As I read the letter, a strange sensation washed over me. It was as if I couldn’t quite breathe; my heart pounded too hard in my chest.
“What does it say? Who sent it?” asked Bo, leaning over my shoulder.
I shifted away from him. “It’s from Galin.”
A hush fell over the room. Sigre and Harald exchanged a look. Bo cursed under his breath.
“The sorcerer is dead,” said Harald at last. “We all saw Revna stab him before he fell into the Well of Wyrd. There is no way he could have survived.
“But he’s Galin.” An edge undercut my voice. “Of course he isn’t dead.”
I read the letter out loud.
Dear Ali,
I rule here as King of Hel. I am consort to Hela, Goddess of the Dead. She is the reason the draugr invade the mortal lands. She will stop at nothing until she escapes Hel’s iron walls. If you free me, I can help defeat the draugr.
—Galin.
“Consort?” I shouted at the end.
“Ali,” said Swegde. “Focus.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, my emotions whirling. On the one hand, Galin was alive, and he was offering to help us. This was what I’d been waiting to hear all this time.
On the other hand, he’d had the ability to contact me all this time, and didn’t. Just like Barthol said.
And what was more—he’d been banging a goddess. A goddess. What did she look like now that she was alive? Beautiful, I imagined.
I stared for far too long at the way he’d signed it. Not a love, not even a yours. Just a slash across the page. I gritted my teeth and lifted my eyes to the others, forcing my emotions under the surface.
I’d done this. I’d severed the mating bond. What did I expect? It was the magical version of a break up. And now he was banging a goddess.
My fists clenched. Stop thinking about Galin.
“Well,” laughed Sigre. “No one living knows how to get to Hel. Clearly this is a forgery.”
“Actually, I have visited Hel,” I said quietly.
Sigre’s eyes widened, and she stared at me like I might be a draugr in disguise.
“That’s impossible,” said Harald.
I held up Levateinn. “Where do you think I got this?”
Sigre crossed her arms. “Even if she visited Hel, she did it with the sorcerer’s help.”
“That is true,” said Bo.
My throat felt tight. “We are being offered help by the King of Hel. I think we should take it.”
Only Swegde spoke. “It’s extremely risky …”
“Does anyone else have a better idea for defeating the draugr?” I asked.
Barthol’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been thinking we could build enormous catapults. Then we could launch Molotov cocktails …”
But as my brother spoke, I found myself thinking about Galin again.
If you free me …
So he’d chosen not to contact me, but maybe he didn’t have a choice about much else. Clearly, he was trapped there—and he needed us to let him out.
We needed him, too. If anyone could stop the draugr hordes, it was him. He’d been able to imprison the Night Elves behind a magic wall for more than a thousand years. If I freed him, maybe he could do the same thing to the draugr. Or he could help kill them. He was the only one who could really use Loki’s wand.
“I should go to Hel,” I said, interrupting Barthol’s in-depth description of a Molotov cocktail.
Barthol stared at me. “But it’s impossible. Last time you visited, you nearly drowned on the way. You were attacked by the Nokk and had to climb over the iron wall. Why would you go back?”