Chapter 25 | Corym

Chapter 25

Corym

RETURNING TO MY HOMELAND filled me with an odd sensation. I thought I would be relieved to be back here; I’d pined for it ever since Vikingrune Academy imprisoned me.

Surely it was much better than getting beaten on a daily basis by Hersir Ingvus Jorthyr and his guards. And having my silver-haired goddess with me was only more comforting.

I wished we had come here under different circumstances, because it was not relief I felt. It was anxiety. Only I among our group knew the dangers we faced here. If my lunis’ai and her mates discovered my true relations in Alfheim, things could get . . . messy.

I didn’t feel I’d been keeping a secret from Ravinica. She simply did not know our customs here, or the breadth of the hierarchy that was so different than human stations.

I never suspected we would make it to Alfheim—surely not together —so why would she need to know what did not impact her?

Now, I walked with pride in my step but worry in my bones. The group deferred to me to lead, for good reason. Hersir Kelvar had the most questions, and he was the most cunning of the group, so I was sparse with my explanations.

The spirit-blood connection between our people and our territories was something that baffled human minds. To have a connection with the land around us, well, it was something the Vikings and humans had always wished they had, yet never truly grasped.

Still, they didn’t seem too entranced or doubtful over what I told them. They embraced the ideas, with Ravinica muttering, “I suppose that checks out.”

It made sense. Their people were the closest human-to-elf equivalents. Their pantheon was filled with living deities, just as ours was filled with living spirits. They did not worship an esoteric entity, or a singular God, but rather prayed to gods of specific things—war, fertility, wisdom, winter, and the list went on.

Their Asgardian gods were relative to our Vanir deities such as Freyr, Freyja, Heimdall, Njord, and others. So it wasn’t too much of a leap for them to accept that the spirits guided us and lived inside us in the same way they felt the gods guided and lived in them.

The group I traveled with was tense, whether they said so or not. They showed it in the way they moved, eyes darting around Kiir’luri, gasping on every snapped twig, glancing up at the odd turquoise sky.

They were on an alien planet.

For me, it was home.

We came to the edge of a forested cliffside and perched on the edge, gazing down at the deep valley below. Twin statues a hundred feet high stood in the valley across from each other in Norrin’s Pass.

Ravinica gawked next to me. “Those statues are massive,” she said. “And beautiful.”

The Twins’ arms were extended toward each other, as if reaching across worlds for an embrace. They were sculpted in the shape of crowned elven kings and queens, with goldstone robes reflecting emerald sunshine from the sky above.

“The Twins of Norrin’s Pass,” I explained. “A landmark all in Heira know well.”

Ravinica looked down the cliff, a long way down. “So you know where we are now?”

I nodded. “I can get us out of the forest. We must hurry. Being this close to the northern border of Kiir’luri is a dangerous gambit.”

“Why is that?”

“Because—”

“Halt!”

I frowned, staring over Ravinica’s shoulders with my face falling. “. . . Because of that .”

The elf calling out to us spoke in a harsh dialect of my tongue, yet I understood him well enough. The Kiir-dwellers emerged from the trees like wraiths, dressed in their breechcloths and nothing else.

The wood elves, or Skogalfar, were a wiry bunch, skin darkened to a bronze hue, swirling green tattoos along their skin and faces. They wore fetishes and ornaments in their hair, noses, piercings—tribal in their appearance and dialect—and wielded spears and stone-tipped weapons.

Our group spun around as one, to face the twelve elves that stalked out of the forest and circled us.

I sighed, understanding the predicament we were in far better than my comrades. Behind us was a drop of hundreds of feet, certain death. In front were mean-looking, snarling Skogalfar that were more animals than soldiers.

The wood elves hadn’t chosen Kiir’luri as their homes out of preference. They had moved here out of necessity, hundreds of years ago, and had adopted customs and rituals I wasn’t familiar with.

I was also the only one who could speak with them.

As my comrades moved their hands closer to their weapons, eyes narrowing dangerously, I recognized this could get ugly fast.

Elves were powerful. Kiir-dwellers could harness the forest against us, and they commanded the pollen and trees nearby. Yet Ravinica and her crew were trained warriors as well, with runeshaping magic of their own.

The elves leveled their spears, taking in the intruders.

I waded through my group, pushing to the front and raising my hands. “Wait, brethren!”

I stepped between the two groups, five feet in front of my comrades and twenty feet from the half-circle of wood elves.

The elves looked confused that I accompanied round-ears.

My words came out fast, as the elven tongue danced from my lips and confused my allies because they couldn’t understand it. “We come to Kiir’luri in peace, Skogalfar. We do not mean to bring harm to your honorable home.”

“You are Ljosalfar,” said the front man, the hunter-leader of the pack. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was tall like me, bulkier in muscle, with his golden hair darkened copper by years under the forest’s canopies.

“I am. These are my friends.” I gestured behind me with a sweeping hand. “Enemies of Dokkalfar, visitors to Alfheim.”

“ Humans ,” the man spat through bared teeth. “We do not accept ‘visitors,’ noble. We accept no one .”

Well, that’s not very accommodating. Or hopeful. I frowned, my shoulders and hands dropping. “Then we will leave.”

“Bringing humans to Alfheim is not done. How are you here?”

“The wards have fallen, brethren. I’m sure your wardtracers have noticed. The portals are open.”

The wood elves looked around at each other, suddenly falling nervous. They gripped their spears tighter, ogling Ravinica and the others.

My teeth ground together, feeling disrespected at their searching eyes of my lunis’ai .

“We kill infestations, noble,” the man said, his long ears twitching.

“We don’t seek violence. What is your name, varus ?”

“Jhaeros, Hunter-Chief of the Northern Kiir.” He squared his shoulders proudly. “The better question, who are you , to be traveling with humans?”

I sighed and blew out a breath.

“I am Corym Vaalnath-Taramore E’tar. Torar’tis and Fifth Company-Prince of Heira’s Eastern Crossing.”

I could feel the stares at my back. My friends, eyes widening. Despite them not understanding my language, they certainly understood when I said my name, and the mouthful of words that went along with it.

The wood elves glanced around suspiciously, their murmurs dying into stunned silence. They looked to their leader, Jhaeros, who was tilting his head curiously.

He blinked a few times. “Company-Prince, you say?”

“Fifth, to be exact, Chief Jhaeros.”

“I pegged you right, then. Noble indeed.”

I lowered my chin, eyes narrowing on him. If it was a fight the wood elves wanted, I would only be pushed so far. I knew Ravinica and the others agreed, though I felt it was my duty to at least try and avoid conflict and bloodshed.

The elders wouldn’t smile upon a prince of the Eastern Crossing slaughtering wood elves. It would lead to a headache for the nation.

“We want you leaving our home, Prince,” he said with an overly exaggerated bow. “The same way you came in.”

“And we will. Just as quickly as we find who we came looking for.”

More murmurs sprouted up from the wood elves. Their eyes widened, nodding as they exchanged whispers.

“You know who I’m talking about, do you?” I asked, brow furrowing.

My heart raced for fear over Magnus’ wellbeing. If a human like him had shown up in Kiir’luri, alone . . . and met Jhaeros and his hunters . . . that did not bode well.

Jhaeros said, “You came for her, did you?”

I opened my mouth—closed it, scrunching my face. “Wait. Her ?”

A nod. “The human doppelganger.”

I was utterly confused now. Glancing back at my friends, they implored me with expressions of anxiety, as if to ask what we were chatting about. Human . . . doppelganger?

“Surely you are mistaken,” I said, waving a hand at him. “The one we search for is a man. Plain as day. Tattoos across his skin. Scarred. Crimson hair.”

One of the wood elves walked up to Jhaeros and whispered in his ear.

With a pout, Jhaeros said, “Oh. The creature. Yes.”

I scratched my head. “Creature? That’s a bit harsh. Have you wounded him?”

“We will hunt for him soon.” Jhaeros nodded sagely.

I sighed. More confused than ever. “ Hunt ? Please explain what you mean, varus .”

“We’ve kept our distance until we discover what he is. Found him meandering through the banks of River Th’race. We arrived to investigate a disturbance in the spirits—the doppelganger—and found him by chance. His blood doesn’t speak to us as it should.”

I worked my tongue inside my mouth, parsing through the information. Perhaps it’s Magnus’ bloodrending that has kept him masked from the elves? “So you have been watching this man?”

Jhaeros nodded.

“He was not the disturbance you felt?”

He nodded again.

I tilted my head. “Then . . . who was the disturbance? Who is this doppelganger you speak of?”

Jhaeros snorted, pointing at me.

No, not at me . . . past me.

“You should know, Prince, since she matches the visage of that doppelganger, sure as the Twins of Norrin’s Pass.”

I spun around to see who he was pointing at.

All eyes were on Arne Gornhodr, who looked frightened at the attention.

I blinked at Arne, then at Ravinica.

“Tell your shapeshifters to get the ears right, next time,” Jhaeros said with a gruff, humorless chuckle.