Page 131 of Edge of the Wild

Erik was grateful for his own blade, the weight of the longsword reassuringly heavy on his back.

His hand was full of Oliver’s trembling elbow, though, and that was his greatest weakness, his largest risk.

“Náli,” he said, “can you find them?”

“Yes. They won’t be far.” He withdrew the diamond pendant that acted as a focus for his powers from within his tunic, and dangled it above the body. It shivered and danced, plucked at by the breeze. And then, as they all watched, it lifted on its own – tugged the chain horizontal, pulling hard until the chain bit into Náli’s fingers and turned them white – and pointed up the slope.

In the direction Oliver had indicated last night, when he’d claimed to hear human screams.

“Let’s–” he began.

And a scream split the night. Not a human scream of pain or anguish. This was very, very inhuman. An awful, high shriek.

“Dragon!” someone shouted.

“No,” Oliver said. “That’s not it.”

“Then what the bloody hell is it?” Askr demanded.

Whatever it was, it had come from farther down the hill, past the King’s Hall and toward the gaming field.

“Stay here,” Erik commanded. “Askr, Ingvar, Edda. All of you. Set up a perimeter. Leif, Birger, Magnus, Lars – Náli. With me. Náli, lead the way.” The scream sounded again, and Erik wanted to get Oliver as far from it as possible. “Ragnar,” he said, catching his cousin’s gaze again, levering authority into his voice. “With us.”

~*~

Náli – or, rather, the diamond tugging at the end of its chain as if sentient – led them up a narrow, rocky path, into a dense stand of fir trees. It was cool and dark beneath their interwoven branches, the trail hard to find and slick with ice in places.

“If anyone’s come up here,” Magnus observed, “they didn’t leave tracks.”

“They must have taken a different path,” Leif said.

“Shh,” Erik hissed. “Keep your voices down.”

Beyond the glow of the torches they carried, the trees crowded in close and thick, the shadows between a deep, impenetrable black that seemed, from the corner of his eye, to flicker with bits of shine that were probably his imagination, but which looked like eyes.

Oliver wasn’t a burden, but he let Erik carry more of his weight than Erik liked; he slipped again and again, laughing quietly each time – but that was the ice rose. Every time Erik touched his skin, he was startled all over again by the heat of his fever.

“All right?” he asked, quietly.

“Fine.” Oliver took a deep, audible breath. “Chest hurts – but not bad. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Erik swallowed a hard knot of fear and pressed on, all but dragging his lover alongside him. He didn’t need to be drug up the side of a mountain, but Erik hadn’t been able to bear the thought of leaving him below, too near to whatever had been screaming. The cry had sounded twice more, as they climbed, farther and farther behind. It wasn’t gaining on them. He sent up a silent prayer that his lords could hold their own against whatever it was, and kept his gaze fixed on Náli’s back: his narrow shoulders, his sheet of pale hair, glimmering in the torchlight.

When something finally happened, it happened quickly, in the way of all disasters.

Náli froze, one foot poised mid-step. His head snapped around to the side. The diamond, Erik saw, was pointing straight up, as if trying to fall upside down. Náli said, “They’re here.”

Erik gathered a breath to ask a question.

And screams split the air. Directly above them. Several, a dozen, hundreds – it was impossible to tell. A chorus of them. Erik looked up, and the shadows twisted, moved – and leaped.

“Draw swords!” he shouted, and heard a collective rasp of steel leaving leather. He dragged Oliver around to his other side, an arm hooked around his waist, and drew his own sword, wishing he had two hands free with which to wield, not willing to release Oliver.

A tall, humanoid shape landed before him soundlessly; it didn’t even disturb the snow. He had an impression of long, flowing dark robes, of bare arms inked with tattoos…and claws. A skull for a face, glowing pale eyes, and tundra deer antlers branching from its head, pronged and dripping something dark and wet.

Erik swung hard – and his sword passedthroughthe creature.

A moment later it dissolved in a whirl of mist. In the place where it had been, through the last, dissipating puffs of dark fog, he saw Náli with his teeth bared, arms straining, as he stood with his sword up and braced, trying to hold back the wicked silver claws of another of the things.

---