My ears popped, and Baldur and I dropped hard on cold, rocky ground. I grunted and sank to my knees, driven by the force of our landing.
“Sorry about that.” He helped me stand again.
My jaw ached. I had ground my teeth for the entirety of the journey. I sucked a deep breath and forced my teeth to unclench.
Baldur scrubbed his hands over his face. “We’ve done a lot of this today, and it’s wearing on me.”
Both in their bird forms again, Hugin and Munin alighted before us and faced the mouth of a cavern nearly identical to the one in my dreams. A massive waterfall fell in a curtain behind us, shielding the cave’s entrance from outside viewers. It left us a few feet of a cold rocky beach on which to stand without getting drenched. Hugin flapped his wings and squawked as if to say, This is the way. Let’s go.
“You have enough juice left to get to the airport and meet my parents?” I asked.
Baldur brushed an unruly forelock from his brow. “Yes. And some to spare, but I won’t deny I’m looking forward to travelling by conventional means for a while.”
“I can’t thank you enough—”
Baldur waved aside my gratitude. “There are no favors between us. We’re working together to ensure each other’s survival and success. Guarding your parents means you’re free to focus on what’s to come. And I’m afraid what’s to come will be mostly terrible for you. If you survive or if you don’t, either way, you won’t be the same woman you were before you went into this cave.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I’m afraid, too. I’m afraid of what I will have to do, what I’ll have to become.”
Baldur’s eyes shone as bright as the blue Alaskan sky beyond the waterfall curtain. The time changes from east coast to west had bought me several more hours of daylight, although the position of the sun mattered little in the belly of a cave. “You can still change your mind,” he said. “I’ll take you to New Breidablick.”
“To do what? Hide behind your runes and wards while Thorin goes crazy from suffering? Hide until I grow old and die?” I bit my lip and shook my head. My throat burned from unshed tears. “No.” I cleared my throat. “I can’t do that, either.” I turned and faced the cave. Hugin hopped forward into the shadows and cawed again. It sounded urgent and impatient. “Get my mom and dad. Keep them safe. Tell them I love them. Tell them I never meant for any of this to happen. Tell them—”
“I’ll tell them everything, Solina. Everything. They’ll know the truth. They’ll know your bravery and honor and loyalty.” He raised his voice over the roar of the waterfall. “Hear me now, ravens. If you betray Solina, if you break her trust in any way, I will hunt you down. I will stuff you and make you the newest additions to my trophy room.”
Hugin and Munin squawked in unison and hopped further into the cave.
I said nothing and kept my back to Baldur. Leaving him hurt much less than leaving my brother at the well, but it wasn’t easy. I took a tentative step forward. The frozen ground—rocks and scraggly little weeds mostly—crackled beneath my feet.
“Bring Magni home,” Baldur said. My ears popped, and he was gone.
I raised a hand and lit it with enough fire to light the way, and I hurried after the ravens, moving as fast as possible over the uneven floor. “Can anyone say déjà vu?” My voice echoed off the cavern walls: “vu, vu, vu…” Further down the way, a raven cawed.
Unlike the cavern in my vision quest, this one neither wound in corkscrews nor sloped at a noticeable angle. It did, however, exude the same dank mineral odor and impenetrable blackness. It extended into the same never-ending, repetitious terrain. “I guess once you’ve seen one stalagmite, you’ve seen ’em all.”
One of the birds squawked again, presumably urging me to shut up and move faster. I obliged. Not that I was anxious to reunite with Val again—or fight him if it came down to it. But I will, if I have to. I will… Maybe if I told myself that enough times, I would believe it.
Every so often, Hugin or Munin slowed enough to allow me a glimpse of a wing or tail feather, reflecting my firelight. They led me on a twisting and turning path along which I would never find my way back without help. If they abandoned me here, I’d be lost. I fingered the golden chain around my neck: Mjölnir’s lanyard. Thorin could find me if he used the hammer to track the lanyard, but I had a feeling he’d lose the will necessary to maintain possession of the hammer the moment he changed into a wolf. The hammer might still find me, as it had before at Mount Rainier, but without Thorin to wield Mjölnir, what use did any of us have for it?
I rounded another corner and ran smack into Hugh’s bare back. I choked on a squeal, but even my garbled gasp echoed in the darkness.
“Shhh,” he said. “An elephant makes less noise than you.”
“Sorry,” I whispered. “We can’t all grow feathers on a whim. Why did we stop?”
“Thorin’s here.” His head twitched like a curious bird’s. “Has been here. He’s moving faster than I would have guessed, almost as if he knows where he’s going, but he doesn’t. Not consciously anyway. Either he’s lucky, or it’s instinctual. Something to do with brotherly bonds, maybe?”
“Will we make it in time?”
“If we fly.”
“Then being quiet and sneaky doesn’t matter, much, does it? If you don’t get me there in time to save Thorin, our deal is moot. If I kill Val...” Bitterness pooled on my tongue, but I swallowed my disgust. “If I have to kill Val to save myself, I will. But if Thorin is turned, I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you to myself.”
He bared his teeth at me. “The vastness of our knowledge could destroy your mind.”
“Don’t underestimate me, bird.” I poked his skinny chest. “And you’d better get us there before it’s too late.”
Hugh mumbled something under his breath but raised his voice so I could hear the next part. “I’m going to fly fast. Do your best to keep up.”
He shivered, throwing off his human form like so much dust. He flapped once and shot off in a glossy black streak, joining his brother, who swooped from the shadows overhead. I sprinted after them and tried my best to keep my feet beneath me, despite the uneven floor.
We ran long enough for my heart to throb and my lungs to burn from the effort. The ravens never stopped for a break, and I never asked for one. Whatever awaited me, whatever came next, I sprinted toward it without hesitation, without questioning. It was the same way I’d learned to ski. Mani and I had cut our teeth on the little slopes in the North Carolina mountains. If I stood too long at the start of a steep slope, I would psych myself out and lose my courage, so I had learned to never hesitate. I jumped off from the lift, headed for the run, and shoved myself over the edge without stopping. No uncertainty, no planning my attack, just go and try not to die.
I ran toward Val the same way: no uncertainty, no planning my attack, just go. And try not to die.
Don’t think…
Just act.
Just survive.
Get in, do what you must, and get out alive.
The ravens and I rounded another corner into a long, narrow passage. A dim light shone from the other end. I threw on a burst of speed, lowered my head, and charged forward, a silent war cry burning in my chest. The hallway curved and spilled into a small room, one with a ceiling not much higher than my head and walls slightly wider than double the span of my arms. A simple kerosene camping lantern sat on a rock ledge, and it illuminated a metal cage squatting in one corner, a prison the size of several large dog crates stacked together.
A man’s nude and limp body lay curled upon itself on the cage’s small floor. His hair mostly covered his face, but red welts and dark bruises stood out on the pale skin over his ribs and spine. Despite my animosity for Grim, my heart sank at the sight of him. Maybe I should have reveled in karma’s justice, but nothing about his sorry, broken body inspired my glee.
A shadow shifted in the room’s opposite corner, and I shrank from it. “Rolf,” I said. He wore the features of the dark-haired man to whom I had served drinks in a bar in San Diego not long ago. He was the man I’d battled in an alley behind that same bar. He was also the man who had once been my brother’s best friend—a man who had betrayed us all for an ancient vendetta.
