Page 56 of Burning Crowns

Elske let out a low whine.

‘I think Elske wants to carry me,’ said Wren.

‘Let’s not flatten the wolf,’ remarked Alarik. ‘We may need her to hunt.’

Wren flung a rock at him. He batted it away. ‘Is that really the best you can do, witch?’

‘Next time it will be a bolt of lightning.’

He raised his brows. ‘Now that I would like to see.’

‘Save your strength,’ said Tor, removing a water flask from his satchel and tossing it to Wren.

‘Tell me about this first witch you named your kingdom after,’ said Alarik, watching her drink. ‘Why was she so fascinated with these endless barren mountains?’

‘I think you mean ourbeautiful sloping hills,’ said Wren between gulps.

Alarik snorted. ‘There’s always a lie dancing on your tongue.’

Wren tossed him the water flask with unnecessary force. ‘Eana wasn’t just fascinated with these mountains, she made them. She made everything in this country. Every speck of land, every rock and blade of grass, every grain of sand …’

Tor and Alarik exchanged a look.

‘That sounds far-fetched,’ said the king.

Now it was Wren’s turn to snort. ‘Wasn’t Gevra run by bears for several centuries? You should think about restoring one to the throne. You’d probably be better off.’

‘I’m sure you’d find some way to make its life a misery, too,’ said Alarik. ‘Tell me more about your precious creator so I can offend her memory just as enthusiastically. How is it that she made this land?’

‘She flew here from the stars on the back of a green-tailed hawk,’ said Wren, fondly. ‘When the hawk touched the ocean,Eana used her magic to turn the creature into land. That’s why our kingdom takes the shape of a bird in flight. Everything after that came from her, too. Her magic was boundless; her power was … well, extraordinary.’

Tor perked up at the mention of the green-tailed hawk. He scoured the skies now, as though he was expecting to see one. ‘That must have been some bird.’

Wren hmm’d. ‘You won’t find another in our skies. In any sky. Green-tailed hawks haven’t flown in this kingdom for thousands of years.’

‘A shame,’ muttered Alarik. ‘We could use one to get up to those mountains.’

On that, they could all agree. Soon, they walked on, but the going was slower than before. After another hour or so, they resolved to stop for a rest, where they shared some apples and cheese from Wren’s satchel. After, Wren found enough energy to continue onward, and not wanting to be outdone by her, Alarik did, too. Together, all three of them journeyed deeper into the northern valley, gazing up at the mountains that seemed to grow taller with every step.

Elske led the pack, sniffing her way through the grassy plains, often returning with an unfortunate shrew or a quivering mouse for her master. Tor took them from the wolf with great pride, making sure to scratch behind her ears, before sending her off again. Once, Elske chased a hare so far she disappeared for almost an hour.

‘Do you think she’ll come back?’ said Wren, straining to see her small white blur in the distance.

‘She always comes back,’ said Tor. He looked between them, scanning their drawn faces, their tired gaits. ‘How are you both bearing up?’

‘Great,’ huffed Alarik.

‘Never better,’ said Wren.

‘I could walk ten more miles,’ added Alarik. ‘Twenty, even.’

Wren rolled her eyes. ‘You’re so immature.’

‘Something you two have in common,’ said Tor.

They wandered on. Now that they were in the heart of the valley, the hills seemed to go on forever. There was something strangely soothing about the landscape, as though they were being cradled in the very arms of Eana, where no harm could come to them.

‘Remarkable,’ said Tor, tipping his head back to study the towering peaks. ‘It’s like a great rolling ocean has swept us up.’

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