Page 125 of Edge of the Wild

Ragnar sneered in his cousin’s face. “Wolves? Really? Do you make a habit of lying to him?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Erik snarled. “Nothing but wolves, when I went out to search for Oliver. He can’t be sure what he heard.”

“I’m standingright here, and I know what I heard, and it was a human screaming, thank you very much!”

Ragnar turned to him. “He didn’t tell you how they used to do it, did he? The old ritual?”

“Ragnar,” Erik warned.

Oliver ignored him.

Ragnar said, “Shamans aren’t born with any power, you know. They’re no different than any other goat-fucking clansman. Not until they make a sacrifice to the gods.”

Oliver was rusty on religion, but he knew that sacrifices usually involved incense, and small offerings: coins, tokens, totems, food and milk.

Ragnar said, “They have to cut the heart from a virgin while they’re still alive, and then eat it. That’s what they do to turn into antler-headed freaks.”

“Ragnar.” Erik shoved his cousin.Hard.

Ragnar clearly hadn’t expected it – neither had Oliver, for that matter – and he staggered back, arms windmilling before he regained his balance. He gaped at Erik in shock. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“Stop filling his head with that idiocy,” Erik snapped, aggressing a step forward, so that Ragnar took a step back.

“It’s the truth!” Ragnar shouted. “Maybe you won’t tell it to him, but I will.” Before Erik could respond, he turned and started marching back up the hill. Over his shoulder, he called, “Oliver, if you ever get sick of being lied to, come find me.”

Erik watched him go, hands curled into fists.

And Oliver watched Erik, dumbfounded.

Finally, Erik turned toward him, face set at harsh angles, nostrils flared with anger – and then froze. His brow slowly cleared. “He’s only trying to sow division. Don’t let him.”

“Oh, I know that,” Oliver said, and his tone – that light, mocking one that Erik must know well by this point – had his lover’s brows lifting. “What I don’t know is which thing I’m angrier about: him being an ass, you being an ass, or the fact that shamans – the same shamans I told you I saw in my vision, and which were controlling that drake, by the by – make a habit of murdering people. Those werehumanscreams I heard last night–”

“You don’t know–”

“They were, and you let me think I was having a nightmare. Or that I’m – I don’t know, too stupid to know a man from a wolf.”

“I never said–”

“You knew how dangerous this place was, you told me all the way here, and yet youcontinueto let me walk into situations without having all the facts. I’m sick and tired of it, Erik!” The last was a shout, one that echoed across the ice, bounced off stones.Rik – rik – rik…rippling back to them.

Erik looked unimpressed. “Are you finished?”

“You’re unbelievable. Yes. I’m finished.For now.”

“I didn’t tell you about it because I had no way of knowing if it was actually happening,” Erik said, softening a fraction. “You, and Leif, and Náli all saw something that looked like the old shamans – but those haven’t existed in my lifetime, nor in Ragnar’s. They’re just legend – as is the assertion about human hearts. There’s no way of knowing if that’s true. There’s no books, and diagrams, and fossils – not like with the drakes. It could have happened, but it’s more likely that it began as a ghost story to frighten children. Even if the things we faced were shamans, even if they had the antler cowls, and some sort of makeshift claws – even if they were controlling that dragon – that doesn’t mean they’re out there eating raw hearts. And for the record, I reallydidn’thear it last night. I swear to you.”

Oliver folded his arms, and wanted to stay mad. But he could already feel his anger cooling. Their conversation at Long Reach hadn’t been for naught: the Erik standing before him now, hands spread, entreating, was trying to be reasonable – as reasonable as a Northern king had probably ever been. And he wasn’t doubting or insulting Oliver; wasn’t make a sweeping proclamation and expecting to be obeyed.

Oliver sighed. “I really did hear something strange.”

“I believe you.”

He rubbed at his face, exhaustion crashing down all over again. He stifled a yawn in his palm and thought fondly of the feather mattress awaiting them back at Aeres; the locked door and the privacy it offered.

“But,” he allowed, “I’ve been swooning, and talking to dragons, and seeing blue, and…” He flapped a hand, eloquently, he hoped. “Gods knows if it was real, or just in my head.”

Erik offered a small, what was clearly meant to be supportive smile.

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