Chapter 23 | Ravinica

Chapter 23

Ravinica

THE FIRST DAY OF TRAVELING westward was the worst. The wind was a wailing banshee, the sky a dumping grounds. White puffs of breath left our lips and noses like snorting bulls.

Corym lagged from his injuries. I stayed beside him the entire time, not willing to race to keep up if it meant he was left behind.

Once my other mates noticed Corym’s struggles, they slowed their pace, to the chagrin of Hersir Kelvar.

“The quickest way out of Hel is through it,” the Whisperer yelled over the scalding winds. “And make no mistake, cadets, Hel is where we are.”

As “Races & Realms” had taught me, Hel was the region of death where evil men and women passed through to get to Niflheim, the cold, dark, misty world of the dead. Hel was also the goddess who ruled over Niflheim.

Some studies conflated Hel with Niflheim, calling them one and the same—two regions of the same world—while others said one was underneath the other. Our acolytes didn’t know for sure, because none of them had been to either.

One who went to Hel didn’t simply come back.

As the primordial world of ice and cold, Niflheim was where those elemental runeshaping sources came from. It was the yin to Muspelheim’s yang, the realm of fire, where the greatest of the jotun, Surtr, hailed from.

I wondered if Hel wasn’t weaving her skeletal arms right now and casting this gloomy, frigid weather on us to test us.

We were coated in blankets of white, making it hard to discern one man from the next. Six shadows, creeping through the puffy snowfields, knee-deep in fluff. All while the whipping winds brought blade-like flakes of ice and frost against our skin.

Corym muttered, “I c-can’t recall ever being in such cold.”

I tried to take his mind off it. “Alfheim doesn’t ever get this cold?”

“Never. My realm is a northern world, above the middle-grounds of Midgard. It doesn’t get like this there.”

I found that surprising. It sounded . . . magical. Which, I knew it was. But still, No cold or frost? Ever? I had to make sure, voicing my surprise. “It never snows there?”

“It may snow once in a rare while. It’s different than this.” He pulled his coat tighter—given to him by Kelvar before we left Vikingrune—and glanced over at me with a chattering half-smile. “Perhaps you will see what I mean some day, lunis’ai. ”

“I would love that.”

Wrapping an arm around his middle, trying to bring some body heat to him, we continued on through the awful, grinding snow.

We may have been about to freeze our respective tits and nuts off, but at least we had each other to carry us forward.

And I would rather be trapped in a torrential snowstorm with Corym and my mates than be in the best climate in the world without them.

The second day was much better. After a ten-hour journey west from Vikingrune the first day, which felt like a month-long trek, we rested in a heel of a cave in Delaveer Forest.

By the second morning, the snow had lightened. Drops of water sluiced down from frost-burdened branches, giving us plenty of drinking water once we boiled it.

“That should be the worst of it,” Kelvar muttered to the rest of us around a morning campfire.

“Because we’re heading further west and north?” I asked.

“Because snowstorm season is ending. It typically lasts a month on the Isle. Winter will remain for a few months yet, and we may see sprinklings of snowfall here and there, but I believe we’ve survived the brunt.”

“Thank the gods,” Arne muttered.

“Got that right, iceshaper,” Sven added, biting into some seedy brown bread.

We ate in silence, dead tired and achy from the travel the day before. Our hands warmed by the fire—a feat that had been impossible to ignite last night, adding to our misery. So we were doubling down on fireside time now, before we got started for the day.

I hoped today would be an easier hike, as Delaveer was starting to look quite magical in the morning, glittering glow. The air was crisp and clear. Dappling sunlight pushed through the clouds, brightening the raindrops hanging off the ends of leaves and branches. Animals and critters were starting to come out of their holes and hideaways, hesitant to brave the weather but eager to see if they could.

We made twice the time on the second day than we had the first, and were nearing the area of the abandoned elven camp by the end of the night.

That was when we started keeping a close watch on things. The mood became decidedly more severe. Kelvar wasn’t answering questions anymore, keeping his half-lidded eyes on high alert. Sven started tracking in his wolf form, and Grim joined him as a polar bear. They flanked the rest of us, scouting ahead for any signs of danger.

They found none.

Until we got to the encampment on the third morning, which was even brighter than the last. It was chilly outside, but the snows were starting to thaw from the beating sun.

That thawing is what showed us the truth of our travels.

We found half-covered bodies littering the campsite, buried in the snow. Not buried , but left where they had died, and then covered by powder. If we had shown up even two days before, we would have never seen them—they would have been lost under the piles.

We drew our weapons as we cautiously descended the hill leading to the camp, moving through it inch by inch. We stayed close, as a group, and I could feel the body heat and hear the heavy breathing from each man beside me.

Everyone was too scared to speak, too frightened to make a sound, though they would never admit it. I wasn’t afraid to mention my fears, or face them. The story Arne had told of what Huscarl Grayon reported scared the shit out of me—“red death” and “the darkness itself.”

We had no idea what we were looking for as we stepped around the structures and buildings still remaining in the camp. That was when we found the first bodies, half-buried.

My heart leapt to my throat and my stomach sank to my boots. I worried we would find Magnus among them. I needed answers, but now that I was here , I wasn’t prepared for what I might find. I started to hyperventilate.

Grim saw me losing my shit and came close to swaddle me in a tight embrace once we called the area clear and put our weapons away.

“Be brave, little sneak,” he whispered.

I sniffed once, hard. “I’m trying.”

Hersir Kelvar descended on the five bodies we found. They were circled around a specific cabin. Oddly, it wasn’t the cabin where the portal stood.

To me, it seemed like the men and women here had come to rest at night, perhaps when they first arrived, before planning on guarding the portal cabin the next day.

Obviously they never made it to the next day.

There were two women and three men. I was the first to move from one body to the next. With my throat tight and blood ringing in my ears, I stopped at each one, turning them to look at their faces if they were on their stomachs.

“Magnus isn’t here,” I whispered to myself, not realizing Sven had followed me.

“That’s a good sign, menace.”

I blinked at him, trying to fight past the sickness weighing me down. All I could do was nod dumbly. “Go.”

Sven nodded, lips firmed, and took off. He knew exactly what I needed from him, and he took Grim with him. The shifters stalked off toward the outskirts of the camp to look for more bodies while Kelvar, Arne, and I stayed to analyze these ones.

When our trackers returned, they told us they’d located others littered around the camp—six in all, more scattered than this congregation of corpses.

Magnus wasn’t among them. It made my heart stutter.

“It really was red slaughter in this place,” Arne muttered, frowning as he kneeled over one of the bodies. “I mean, gods, this man’s legs are right here but his feet are over there.” He looked up at our group with a pale face. “What kind of force would have the strength to do something like that?”

“A manmade force,” Sven quipped, “clearly. A man strong enough, with a sword sharp enough, could dismember a man’s shins from his feet. Just ask Grim here.”

The bear grunted, not finding any levity in the situation.

Our moods had gone bleak, worried.

Kelvar stood from one of the bodies—a woman who had been riddled with no less than five arrows in her chest, neck, and face. Crossing his arms, he said, “The arrows confirm that we are not dealing with a monster here.”

I scoffed. “Clearly we have a different definition of monster , Hersir.”

“Fair enough, Linmyrr. The truth remains evident on these bodies. Arrowheads and steel were the source of their downfall. Likely caught in a snowstorm, blinded by it, with little chance to defend themselves when they walked into an ambush.”

Sven said, “Judging by the swords, axes, and shields on the ground, I’d say they defended themselves, Whisperer. They just fared poorly.”

Arne scoffed. “Fared poorly? That’s an understatement.”

“They had no chance,” Grim said, shaking his head.

Kelvar pulled at his chin curiously, deep in thought. He paced from the bodies, inside the cabin, and back out. “There’s dried blood in the cabin.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you getting a better idea of what happened here, Hersir?”

“Starting to.” He gestured to the cabin. “That must have been the barracks where guards slept overnight while guarding the portal. It was likely the meet-up point for both parties.” His black gloves moved from the building to the snowy ground and corpses. “The approaching group likely had no idea the comrades they were coming to relieve of their shifts had been slaughtered already. The storms have been horrible, which means they wouldn’t have seen the ambush coming, especially if they were arriving at night, which seems most likely.”

That was all well and good. I agreed with him. But there was an elephant in the room no one had recognized, and I was growing frustrated.

“What about Magnus?” I called out to the group, throwing up my arms. “He isn’t here!”

My frantic nerves were fraying, worried something worse than death had overcome him.

“It appears not,” Kelvar said coolly, blowing out a cloud. “We should take comfort in that.”

“I won’t feel comfort until we find out what the fuck happened to him.”

“ Lunis’ai !”

I gasped, spinning around.

Corym had moved away from the group, staying quiet during our investigation. Now, he was kneeling in the snow, near the portal-cabin.

He lifted something dark from the ground, covered in white flakes.

I rushed over, wading through the ankle-high frost and cutting deep grooves in the snow. A sound of shock ripped past my lips when I got close enough to see what he was holding up, mere feet from the cabin.

“A trench coat,” I breathed.

The others arrived a moment later.

“Fucking Hel,” Grim growled, and started prowling around the cabin—keeping a safe distance from the edges of the portal’s invisible borders.

“N-No, this is a good thing!” I squealed, clasping my hands together. “Right?”

“No bodies found!” Grim announced from the other side of the lodge.

My eyes moved to Sven, then Arne, imploring both of them with a helpless bent to my brows.

Corym stood and dusted his hands off. “I believe it is.” With a grave nod, he looked down from the ragged black trench coat, up to the cabin. “Though if his coat is here, and Magnus is not . . .”

My lips parted, mouth falling open. Eyes landing on the closed door of the cabin.

Kelvar the Whisperer sidled up next to me, letting out a deep groan. “Fucking Hel, indeed,” he muttered.

“He must have gone into the portal to escape!” I yelled, stating the obvious while also trying to make myself believe my bloodrender mate was still alive.

“Gods-dammit, Feldraug, what have you gotten yourself into?” Kelvar whispered, more to himself than anyone. Only I was close enough to hear him.

“What has he gotten us into, you mean,” I answered.

He lifted a single thin brow as my other mates closed in around us. “What do you mean, cadet?”

I pointed at the lodge. “If Magnus went in there, Hersir, then we’re going in there. That’s what I mean.”

Kelvar’s cheeks went concave, his eyes darkening with a threat. “Is that a fact?”

I defiantly nodded to him, answering his challenge with a gold-tinged glare of my own. “It is.” I could feel my four mates behind me, their varying heights and builds casting deep shadows over me and onto Kelvar’s face. “You can’t stop all of us, Whisperer.”

The air whistled around us in the gray, crisp morning, signaling another standoff—this one with the most feared, diabolical man at Vikingrune Academy.

To my side, Arne said, “I heard what Gothi Sigmund told you, Hersir.”

While the iceshaper tried to break the tension, Kelvar’s eyes stayed on me. “What did you hear, eavesdropper?”

“You aren’t allowed to step foot in the portal. No one is.”

Kelvar nodded. A small smirk dashed across his lips. “That is correct. And yet, your owner , to use a title by Hersir Jorthyr, is demanding we do exactly that. What am I to do with this conundrum?”

His arms were at his sides, hidden beneath the interior of his cloak. I had no idea what he was planning under there, but I knew it would be bad—potentially deadly for us.

The silence dragged on. I wouldn’t back down, and Kelvar knew that. The Whisperer was just as stubborn as I was, and neither would he.

Finally, my brow crinkled as something came to me. Tilting my head, I said, “Tell me something, Whisperer. Why bring Corym E’tar?”

“Hmm?”

I put my hands on my hips, adopting a new stance. “Portals are the handiwork of the elves, sure, but I am the one who opened this one. You would need an elf no more than you would need me, unless, of course . . .”

“Unless what, cadet?”

Kelvar was goading me. Pushing me forward.

The realization made my eyes burn with shock.

“. . . Unless you were planning on going into Alfheim and you needed him as a guide.”

Kelvar’s smirk grew—devilish and wicked, a haunting sight on such a callous man. “I like to plan for all contingencies,” he said. “Can you fault me for it?”

I blinked at him, still in shock. “You . . . had always planned to go against Gothi Sigmund’s wishes?”

Kelvar’s hands appeared from beneath his cloak, the black gloves making everyone twitch with a start because we expected him to fling some sort of magic at us.

They lifted in a notion of surrender, harmless, palms out. “My plan has always been to see what the situation presents me with. No more, no less.”

“And?” I asked, wondering why he was agonizing me so much by drawing this out.

I realized it was because he didn’t want to give himself away. He needed to keep his air of mystery, his vagueness, even now.

I would never fully trust this man. But I couldn’t deny the blossoming of my heart or excited pumping of blood in my veins when I realized what he was trying to say.

“Now, dear children, I fear the situation has presented us with only one choice, if we are to succeed in our mission of retrieving Magnus Feldraug.”

Kelvar spun around, his cloak floating behind him a second later. With his back to us, he called out, “Prepare yourselves. In an hour, we leave this world and become the first humans to do so in a millennia.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at our struck faces, his lips curled in a frown. “And not one of us knows what may be waiting for us on the other side.”