Page 130 of Edge of the Wild

Erik took his face in both hands and tipped it back, far enough to see that his eyes were dilated, in the glow of the moon. “You’re sick,” he hissed, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s…” Oliver took a big, slow breath. “Fine. I took something.”

“Took something?”

“That – that stuff Olaf…gave me. The rose…stuff.”

“Ice rose,” Erik said. His lips felt numb. His pulse was hammering, suddenly, in a way it hadn’t been while inspecting the bodies. “Gods, you’rehigh.”

Oliver shrugged unsteadily. “It’s that – or die. Heh. That rhymes.”

“Come on.” Erik put an arm around him and tried to turn him back toward the King’s Hall. “You should lie down.” He was already running the logistics through his head. Traveling while sick wasn’t ideal, but they had to get out of his valley and back into Northern society. There would hot baths and real beds at Long Reach, if Oliver could hold out that long…

Belatedly, he realized that Oliver wasn’t following, and that he was in danger of putting him face-first in the snow if he didn’t stop trying to push him forward.

Oliver blinked up at him, eyes glassy, but chin set at a stubborn angle. “No. Let me look – at the bodies.”

“You can barely speak.”

Oliver gave a half-hearted wave. “Details. Come on. I’m not that bad off yet.”

“Right.” Erik wanted to hit something. “No.”

“Erik.” Oliver folded his arms, the effect ruined by the way he swayed. “I’m already out here. Looking – looking won’t make meworse.”

Erik inhaled, ready to argue…and sighed when he realized that Oliver had a point. Delaying a few extra minutes wouldn’t make things worse, and ruling out a drake attack could, theoretically, help.

Erik took his arm again, and steered him back toward the gathering of worried lords. “The moment you begin to feel worse–” he started.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to pass out,” Oliver said with a giggle.

Wonderful.

They had to walk more slowly than normal. Oliver kept his gaze on his feet, and placed them more carefully than usual. As they rejoined the others, Erik glanced up and saw Birger’s concerned frown. He shook his head when Birger started to ask something.Later, he mouthed.

“All right, lad,” Askr said. “Take a gander. With your eyes, with your – mental powers, whatever it is you do.”

Oliver tittered like a drunk, smiling in a wide, unrestrained way, loose and easy, that he never would have if sober. “All of the above,” he said, and knelt down by one of the bodies.

He tried to, at least. He overbalanced, tipped sideways, and caught himself at the last moment with an outflung hand. “Oops.”

Erik gripped the shoulder of his cloak and refused to make eye contact with anyone. “Oliver. What does it look like?”

He squinted at the dead man’s torso for long moments, tilting his head side to side. He opened his hand over the wound, and for a moment, Erik thought he might touch the body, something well and sober Oliver never would have done. Then he shook his head – after which he had to regain his balance – and stood. Erik caught his elbow. “No. Not enough claws. Dragons have four, and then a thumb.” He lifted his own and waggled it, in demonstration.

The news didn’t seem to settle anyone’s nerves.

“We’ve seen this sort of injury before,” Erik said. “Náli?”

“Here.” The young Corpse Lord stepped forward.

And Erik drew Oliver back, grateful the focus was no longer on his swaying mate.

Náli crouched down by the body, stripped off a glove, and hovered his bare palm over the wound. Erik couldn’t see his face, but he knew that his eyes had gone misty and pale: the not the solid white of a true walking, but close, as he mined through the energies that had been left on the corpse. “It’s the same,” he said, after a beat, his voice toneless and detached. “The same thing we faced at Silfr Hall, and at Redcliff.”

“A shaman,” someone said, grimly, and Erik glanced up to see Ragnar on the far side of the growing circle, several of his men flanking him. He met Erik’s gaze with a cold, hard one of his own. “I told you. I told you they were here.”

“Wherever they are” – Askr unslung his massive battle axe from his back – “we’re ready for them.”

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