Chapter 9

"You're right. This is different from our mines in Azraak. Mind telling me why you thought it was a good idea to build a mine track over a chasm? Without any sort of supportive structure?"

I frowned at said mine track. We were deep within the tunnels now, having lost the echo of dwarven song several caves back. So we'd made it to the Bifrost Crossing—named after the ancient bridge to the gods. The ledge on the other side held the entrance to a lower network of tunnels packed tight with sunstones, onyx, and emeralds. We didn't venture that far down unless the tunnels near The Wet Beard ran dry, and that rarely happened. The crossing was difficult to navigate.

Still, it had never been treacherous, like it was now.

Where there had once been a wooden bridge connecting this ledge to the next, now it was nothing but open air. The mine tracks over it had been left behind, so it was just metal railings curving over the darkness.

"The wood must have rotted and collapsed into the chasm," I said, my hollow voice echoing in the cavernous space.

"Hmm. And that usually happens Under the Mountain, does it?" Tormund asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.

"It's very humid down here if you haven't noticed."

"All the other bridges seem fine."

"Most are made from stone," I pointed out. "And stone doesn't rot."

"Interesting. This mine cart here seems just fine." And then he grabbed the wooden side of the cart and leapt inside. It rattled and shook beneath him, the wheels scraping against the iron rails. The thing rolled forward—just an inch—but it was enough to make my heart lurch into my throat.

"Are you mad?" I grabbed the side of the cart, dug in my heels, and held it still. Once those things got going, they really got going. Quickly, I jammed the brake into place. "You'll go flying across the chasm if you aren't careful."

"That was the idea," he replied.

"No." I tightened my grip on the cart, shaking my head so emphatically that my jangling bells echoed like an eerie song in the shadowy darkness of the chasm. "We are staying on this side of the chasm, thank you very much."

He levelled his gaze at me. "Don't tell me something as dull as fear is going to stop you from finding the one thing in this fate-forsaken mountains that could break your curse."

I narrowed my eyes. "Rude."

"Which part?"

"All of it." And despite every instinct telling me not to do it, I hauled myself over the lip of the cart and tumbled right into Tormund's lap, my legs sticking up in the air. Mouth against his thigh, heat blazed through me. I murmured against his trouser's rough fabric, "I didn't really think this through."

He laughed—a great booming sound that rumbled through me like the familiar roar of the tavern after a long day toiling away in the mines. I'd never heard him laugh like that until now. All his other chuckles seemed diminished compared to this, like he'd been putting on a show.

"That definitely counts as the third," he said.

"Yes, yes, the third time I've fallen over in your presence," I said, my face still smashed against his leg. I tried not to think about how close my mouth was to other parts of him, but it was next to impossible.

"At least you're not denying it anymore." He wrapped firm hands around my waist, easily lifted me into the air, and plopped me right back down—still on his lap. At least this time I was sitting the right way up. My backside was on his legs, and my head was very much sticking up out of the cart, facing forward. In the direction of the chasm.

The deep dark of it loomed before me like the jaws of a hungry beast.

"This is a terrible idea," I muttered beneath my breath.

"Personally, I'm having a great time," Tormund said. "Now, how do we get this thing going?"

I dropped my head into my palm. There was no backing out now. If I walked away from the situation, Tormund would continue onward without me. And I couldn't let him do that.

Heaving a sigh, I said, "I thought you were a miner. Reach down and pull the brake lever."

"Our set-up isn't as elaborate as yours. We don't have carts and tracks and hundreds of stations set up through the mountain. People would figure out what we were doing if we had too much gear."

I couldn't help but look over my shoulder. "How do you mine without it?"

"Carefully," he replied, as if that answered my question.

Hint: it did not.

But before he could clarify, Tormund swung his arm over the side of the cart, yanked on the brake lever, and then threw his weight forward, careful not to slam into me.

The cart rolled.

I swallowed hard as the world fell out from beneath me. We surged forward so suddenly, my stomach shot up into my throat. All my hair bells rang in warning, and my eyes filled with burning tears. Tormund grabbed my waist and held me against him. The heat of his skin pressed into me, momentarily distracting me from the fact we were rushing over the chasm. Darkness widened its jaws.

A shriek exploded from my throat.

I snatched the side of the cart and held on with all my might. The chasm whirred by, then vanished behind us as we zoomed into the next tunnel. Sunstones flared to life, emitting glowing rays of orange and yellow, filling the tunnel with so much light it was almost blinding.

The cart careened sideways, then slammed into a wall.

We teetered sideways and spilled out onto the hard ground. An "Ergh!" shot from the depths of me. Bright spots danced in my eyes. Tormund's hand found my waist again. I rolled over, blinking up at him. His concerned face stared back at me. Gone was that ever-present swaggering spark.

"You all right, Astrid?" He brushed a curly strand of ginger hair out of my eyes, his fingers lingering against my skin.

That bloomin' way he said my voice…I shuddered.

His frown deepened. "Astrid? Blink your eyes if you're in pain."

"I'm in pain," I said, pushing up onto my elbows. "But I'm fine."

"You took quite the tumble," he said, gently helping me to my feet.

His careful concern unnerved me. And so I said, "For the fourth time."

Tormund cracked a smile. "For your sake, I hope none of the trials require remaining upright for longer than ten minutes."

I flushed. "Laugh all you want. Your plan has gone sideways. Quite literally."

Tormund looked around the cave we'd entered. It was at the end of a short stretch of tunnel, empty save for the cart and a pair of rails curving into the darkness ahead. We should have carried on with them, but there was a missing section in the track. Melted iron coated the ground, like someone had taken a torch to it.

"I'm starting to think someone doesn't want us poking around down here," Tormund murmured, kneeling beside the melted tracks.

A prickle caressed the back of my neck, and an overwhelming sensation of wrong settled over me like smoke so thick I could barely breathe through it. Before, I hadn't truly wanted to believe it—that Tormund was right in his suspicions. Even though I would never win the prize, I didn't like the idea that some dwarves among us were parading around with a fake.

My mountain, nestled in the ridges of The Glass Peaks, was located on the Shard, one of the lands within the Isles of Fable. We had always prided ourselves on being a safe haven from the rotten things in the world. Greed, violence, destruction, and hate. People were still people, of course, so the Isles weren't perfect. Nowhere was. And here in the dwarven mountains, we took in the prisoners who broke the laws of the Isles.

So we were a little rougher around the edges than some of the other islands.

Still, we'd never had anyone sabotage our mining tracks.

"I'll admit, I'm starting to get that feeling, too," I admitted—rather begrudgingly. Giving Tormund more fuel for believing the Everstone was down here, well…it wasn't my first choice. But we both knew I'd be lying if I said anything else. I nodded toward the tunnel from whence we came. "I'd say we should turn around and go back, but well."

"‘But well' is right. I don't much fancy watching you try to balance your way across those rails to the other side of the chasm."

I gave him a blank stare. "I'm really not as clumsy as my recent dexterity seems to suggest."

He motioned toward the chasm. "Then, by all means, have at it."

"No, thank you," I sang. "I will be heading where these tracks lead. There is a larger cave system up ahead, and then the tracks circle back around, coming out four ledges down from The Wet Beard."

Tormund nodded, and we began our journey, walking beside the curve of the tracks. "You know this part of the tunnels, then?"

"Yes, I already told you that. I've spent twenty-six years searching the mines, and that includes this section. All these tunnels connect. I've been through them well over a hundred times."

"Twenty-six years? How young were you when you started?"

"Well, I was five when I started. So I suppose it's been more like nineteen years of searching. But it feels like my whole life. I hardly remember a time before it." I shrugged. "We dwarves start mining young. And as soon as I got a pickaxe in my hand and heard the legend of the Everstone…well, I've been determined to find it ever since."

"I'm only a few years older. And like you, I began my quest at age five." His eyes grew distant. "I didn't know about the Everstone then, of course. I thought I might find answers in my own mountain. I asked every shadow demon in Azraak if they knew of a cure. None did."

I looked up at him. "Then how did you find out about the Everstone?"

"Pure luck," he said. "A year back, I travelled to the mainland when I heard the conquerer Isveig had been removed from his throne. Thought I might help the orcs come out of hiding."

My heart twanged with an unexpected swell of…well, admiration, I supposed. Isveig had been a rotten ruler. He'd stolen the orcish lands, destroyed the dragons, and had plotted against the other folk lands. The elves had tried to stop him, but they'd failed.

Eventually, it was his own niece who had defeated him.

Most orcs—the few who'd survived—had gone into hiding. For Tormund to have left his shadowy mountain behind to help them, well. It said a lot about his character.

"Did you see many orcs?" I asked softly.

A wistful smile curled his lips. "More than I even dreamed. The orcs will be all right. I know that now."

"Good. I'd love to go see Fafnir one day now. I suppose you heard rumors about the Everstone when you were at the docks there?"

He nodded. "Dwarves from Rockheim sailed in to trade. They were talking about it."

"Rockheim, eh?" I tapped my chin, falling into an easy, companionable silence with Tormund as we wound through the tunnels. Now and then, he stopped to examine a cluster of sunstones or another web of the mineral lines. But, as it turned out, his luck was no better than mine—at least when it came to this.

Eventually, we reached the rim of the Endless Chasm a few ledges down from The Wet Beard. From the sounds of it, the celebration had turned into a bloomin' riot of good cheer.

"Well." Tormund stuck his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"Well," I replied.

"I suppose this is the end of our journey. I'll admit, I believed we'd find the gem in there."

"A part of me thought we would, too, even though I really have examined every inch of those tunnels. If it had suddenly appeared, it would have been because someone had put it there."

He rested his back against the wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Strangely, that wouldn't surprise me. Not after everything else that's happened."

"Yeah. Me either." I cleared my throat, eyeing the bridge that would lead me toward my village, my home, and the tea I'd craved a few hours earlier. And then I shifted on my feet, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "So, in case you're turned around, you can take that bridge there to the ledge above. After that, there's another that will take you back to The Wet Beard. You know where to go from there."

"I take it that means you're done with my company for the night," he said in a low murmur.

I swallowed, avoiding his eyes. "If we'd found the Everstone like you'd hoped, what would you have done with it?"

A moment of silence followed, then he said, "You know what I would have done with it."

My heart sank, but I didn't know why I felt the suffocating weight of disappointment. He had good reason for wanting that gem, and he'd never pretended he'd let me have it. In fact, he'd been pretty clear that he'd do anything to get his hands on the thing. And yet, something about the decisiveness in his voice stung. He wouldn't even hesitate; he wouldn't consider me at all.

But why would he?

Still, I gazed into his face and searched for any sign that he had empathy for me at all. He wasn't devoid of emotion. He'd proven that by going to see the orcs. So maybe it was just me.

"That's what I thought." I took a step back, my boot scuffing the edge of the bridge. "Have a good night, Tormund."

"Ah, so you're going to hold my love for my brother against me?" He ran his hand along the base of his horns, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"

I furrowed my brow. "Don't act like you know anything about me. You haven't even asked about my thing." I couldn't say the word out loud. "For all you know, I could be doomed to die tomorrow."

"Curses never involve death. They're intended to torment the living. Only thing is, Astrid, you seem to be just fine." He cocked his head. "In fact, you have everything you need, and my brother doesn't."

"Except the one thing I want more than anything," I blurted out.

A beat passed. "The Everstone."

"Yes. No." I threw up my hands. "Nevermind. You wouldn't care about my thing, even if I could tell you what it is. Don't ask for my help again. I won't give it next time."