Page 102 of Into the Isle

At one point, Frida noticed. “Don’t worry,” she said, “no one comes out here.”

“Where is here, exactly? Where are we going?”

Her dainty hand fluttered in front of her, motioning vaguely toward the mountainside. We were coming at it from a different angle than the trail that led up to the western gate—slightly north of it, passing by some rocky ground on the way.

The sloping hillside became a bit treacherous and uneven. I had to focus where I walked, hopping from a stone to another; shuffling bowlegged over a deep ditch; balancing my arms out to cross a narrow landbridge.

When we reached the top of the hill, I looked back and saw we’d gained quite a bit of height. I was looking level with some tall trees out in Delaveer Forest.

We were pressed flush against the mountainside. Little pockets of crevices created small holes nearby, littering the mountainside with cave entrances up here.

Frida took one entrance, seemingly at random, and entered the cave. Inside was pitch black, and my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. A sense of mystery and panic set in, combined with claustrophobia because I didn’t know where I was, or who this girl was.

Her low voice bounced off the walls, telling me we were in a narrow walkway. “Vikingrune Academy has an entire labyrinth of tunnels and corridors underneath it. Originally built for the harsh winters here, to keep people underground.”

A sound of stone and flint crashing together startled me. A torch sputtered to life a few feet away. Frida’s gaunt face was illuminated in the firelight.

“That’s fascinating,” I said. “I’m guessing Vikingrune is hesitant to tell its students about the underground passageways?”

“Yes. Many of the tunnels lead to storerooms and facilities inside buildings they’d rather students not visit in the middle of the night. Such as the eastern janitor’s closet in Mimir Tomes.”

I was flabbergasted at this new intel.

Frida reached into her shirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper, shoving it toward me. “A map I drew for you. It’ll make more sense once you get moving.”

I unfolded it. It was mostly a mess of lines, with some Xs and Os. It made my heart soar. A map like this was exactly what I’d wanted. “Thank you, Frida,” I said.

She nodded. We were a few feet from the mouth of the cave. It cut into the mountain, sloping upward.

“It’ll take you twice as long to get up the mountain as it did to get down it,” she explained, tapping the map I held. “Follow that. You shouldn’t get lost. Get lost, and you might never come out. So . . . don’t do that.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

She handed the torch to me. “Here. Don’t say the Lepers Who Leapt never did nothing for you.”

I gave her a small bow, feeling like it was appropriate. “I’m in your debt, Frida Gorndeen.”

Her eyes flashed in the torchlight—bright and mischievous, hitting me with another sense of familiarity. “Oh, we know. We might come calling for that favor at some point. Don’t make yourself scarce, understand?”

I nodded diligently. “I do. I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” She turned away toward the mouth of the cave, then stopped at the opening. She looked hesitant for the first time, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should.

I asked, “You okay, Frida?”

She unclenched her jaw. “Will you tell Arne next time you see him that I appreciate what he’s doing, but that he doesn’t need to watch over me? I can take care of myself. Thanks.”

She turned around and stomped out of the cave before I could reply. Her words reignited that sense of familiarity I’d been feeling, and it hit me all at once.

She said her last name is Gorndeen. Arne’s is Gornhodr—named “hodr” because of his specialty with ice Shaping.

But it would originally be Gorndan.

I shook my head, scoffing in disbelief. All hells.

Frida is Arne’s sister.

I had a new nagging sense of discovery—why Arne was truly helping the Lepers Who Leapt . . .

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