Page 41 of Court of Treachery

His dragon’s throat glowed as molten fire brewed within it.

She trembled, struggling to maintain herself. She glanced down at the baby, the comforting warmth in her arms. “I do this for you, my sweet princess,” she murmured.

“I beg your pardon?”

She looked up with hate-filled eyes, wishing that the venom of her look could strike him down. “You took him from me, but I will see him across the border in death. She will not die with us this day. You willneverfind her!” Ilrune closed her eyes and sucked all her power into her core. She had drained everyDragonheart she had collected on her meticulous travels, every magical artefact with any remnant of power. She glowed from within, until the riders before her shielded their eyes.

She pushed it all into the babe, then thrust her as far away as she possibly could, sending the child into the unseen plane where magic flowed like an endless, rippling ocean. She wished for warmth, love, and care, seeking it out for her daughter, but she only had a moment to act. There was no time to think about the coldness of her empty arms. No time to fear what would happen a moment later. She only hoped that she sent her daughter to a safer place and loving arms.

“No!” thundered Raedon as the babe vanished.

His dragon’s maw opened and a jet of white-hot fire arced toward Ilrune. But with a smile upon her face, her life’s energy utterly spent on the salvation of her daughter, Ilrune had already crumpled to the ground. By the time the dragon’s flame consumed her body, her soul was already gone.

33

HARPER

Harper awoke with tears burning down her cheeks, half-leaned against Vanir’s legs as the old woman sat, once more tumbling rune stones though her fingers. She blinked the world into focus once more. She was Harper, yet still Ilrune. Was the pain she felt her own? Her heart was shattered. The stink of burning flesh lingered impossibly upon the chilled cave air. Her ears rang with the roar of dragons.

“Interesting,” muttered Vanir.

“W–What was that?” Harper asked, but she did not need Vanir’s answer, she realised. She knew she had just witnessed her own mother’s death, and her own salvation. Vanir did not answer as she regarded her with a kind, sad smile, her milky eyes filled with tears.

“It’s true?” Harper choked out. Her throat seemed stripped raw, as if she had been shouting, just like Ilrune.Ilrune. My… mother.The word felt strange.

“That was proof, girl. The truth indeed. I told you your past was as interesting as your future.” Vanir cackled, but she patted Harper on the knee with a sympathetic smile. “You do not have to decide what that means for you right this instant. It is a lot tolearn.” Her hands continued rubbing the stones from finger to finger.

Harper could not answer.

“I did not seethatpast for your bracelet. My, my. She is long dead, but perhaps you may yet meet your great-grandfather. He is so very close in Afnirheim, and your friend is there, as well.”

Harper’s attention sharpened. “Ragnar is there?”

“Yes, child. Ragnar Dúrnir is deep beneath Afnirheim. The water tells me all.”

He had been taken much farther than any of them could have anticipated, but he wasalive? Hope soared in her heart, even as much as it felt shaken by her vision’s revelations.

“How can we save him?”

Vanir’s face was grave. “Rescue may not be possible, child. But drink of the river. It may show you the answer. Focus on Ragnar Dúrnir to see what you will.”

Even though the thought of another vision churned her already nauseated belly, Harper did as Vanir bade her. She hurried to use the chalice to scoop more bitingly cold water up and take a gulp, sloshing it down her chin and onto her chest in her haste. This time, she sat and braced herself against the rocks, ready for the swooping darkness.

That darkness crushed her. Harper could perceive nothing and no one. Her eyes hurt with the strain of looking for anything to mark her location. The vision tumbled through the shadowed, shattered halls of Afnirheim once more. Ruins and bodies loomed in the murk as she passed. Her gaze did not waver, and she set her lips against the whimper of fear that soughtto escape, clenching her fists to stop them from shaking. The prickles travelling up her spine did nothing to ease her anxiety.

Shadows and light cast by the sickly red glare of fires danced in the distance as she crossed voids and offshoots to the tunnels. Down she went, farther into the dark. The smell of decay, festering wounds, and excrement found her first. Next, she heard the moans and shrieks. They were not all goblins. She feared what she would find.

In the depths of the mines, dwarves huddled in pits, some covered with iron grates. Goblins crowded around each open pit, shrieking with excitement and amusement as they threw rocks at their captives, whipping and tormenting them. Harper did not want to look too closely. Panic rose in her, stealing her breath. The goblins’ filed teeth and fetid claws were within inches of her. They could not perceive her, she reassured herself, but all the same, she kept a keen eye on them.

Harper floated over the pits. There were hundreds in a grid pattern. Most contained dwarves. It was where the dwarves kept their goblin slaves, she realised. She searched each pit as she passed, squinting in the poor light. It was hard not to stop and stare. Each dwarf barely passed as a living being, for they had been tortured beyond all recognition. She held in a retch as she passed a pit where several dwarves lay, obviously dead.

Please, let him be alive, she pleaded silently. It seemed too much to hope that Ragnar was unharmed. How many days had he been gone now? It did not bear thinking about. Then she saw him. It was only by chance, for her gaze had passed over the pit twice already. He huddled in a deep, dark corner under a slight overhang, head on his knees and eyes shut. Close by, other dwarves huddled or lay in piles of their own bodily fluids.

Her heart leapt. Was he alive? The vision wavered, then moved her along, past the pits, until she could no longer see him, even by craning her neck.

No! she longed to say. Stop! Go back!

It was fruitless. The vision carried her where it willed. On she passed, beyond the reach of the flames and into the darkness, where only the stale air awaited. Suddenly, a cold tendril of air caressed her cheek, pulling her onward. Forward and up it went, and she with it, breathing in the gift of the clear, crisp air that stripped the stench from her lungs. Stronger it grew, but the caves became narrower, until she squeezed into a tight fissure. In the distance, a crack of daylight was her only clue that the end was nigh. Through the stone, she passed into blinding light. As her eyes adjusted to the clear, cold day and the weak sun shining down upon her, she turned in a circle. She stood outside the mountain, a sheer, stone cliff behind her, yet no hint of a cave or fissure.

---