Page 22 of The Viking in the Vault
The door opens as we approach, and the warmth inside rushes out to greet us. The air smells of books, woodsmoke, and spiced tea, and the soft murmur of voices echoes from within. Elena looks up at me, her expression hopeful, and I have no choice but to follow her inside.
As soon as we step in, I’m certain this is an expansion of the library we built so long ago. Massive shelves rise to the painted ceiling, storing countless books and scrolls. Golden motes of light float in various places, some held in the handsof passing scholars. Once again, we catch a few looks–but I’m mostly interested in the retinue of Skoll waiting for us, led by a statuesque female a few decades my senior.
Or…she would be, if I hadn’t just spent millennia in cryo-sleep.
The group of scholars greets us with quiet reverence, the female stepping forward. She looks at me with reverence rather than as if I’m a curiosity, though I don’t feel deserving of any reverence–and when she speaks, it’s in perfect Skoll…or at least, my version of Skoll.
“Ragnar Stormborne,” she says. “I am Professor Davina Ferhalda. We have long studied the history of your expedition.”
The sound of my language, spoken flawlessly by one of my own kind, nearly breaks me. I sway on my feet at the sheer relief of hearing my native tongue, untainted by time.
“You…can speak with me,” I say, voice rough. Fenrik wags his tail hesitantly at the scholar, and she smiles down at him.
“And with your companion,” she says. “What’s his name?”
“Fenrik,” I tell her.
“Fenrik,” she repeats, and his tail wags harder. “He’s beautiful.”
I glance at Elena, who’s stayed close, watching me. She squeezes my hand.
“I have dedicated my life to the study of the Lost Expeditions,” Davina continues. “When we unearthed your records, we never dared to dream one of you might still live. I’m sure this is a lot to take in…but your presence here is a blessing.”
“You found our records?” I ask. “What did you do with them? Can I see them–”
“They are preserved,” Davina says, voice calm while my heart races. “Our people’s history has been safeguarded on M’mir for millennia–all because of you and your allies.”
The relief is a cold splash against the simmering grief inside me. At least some part of my crew, my mission, survived. I nod, processing her words, and the tension in my chest loosens just slightly. “And the Boreans?”
“Exctinct,” Davina says. “Their numbers shrank over millennia of Elixir use, and in their last war…they died. All but one, as far as we know.”
The implications are staggering. My shoulders sag as I blink away the disorientation of it all–and I make a mental note to find out more about the one remaining Borean.
“The galaxy has changed in ways I cannot fully explain with one conversation,” Davina says. “But you will not face the enemies of your time here. We are at peace.”
Peace…a possibility that never so much as occurred to me before. When I lived, my people were slaves to the Boreans, our planet wartorn, our histories at risk of vanishing entirely. And now…
What am I supposed to do?
I’m still standing in shocked silence when Davina shifts her attention to Elena, and she speaks once again in modern Skoll. Elena’s brows draw together at whatever Davina’s said, and she takes a step closer to me and shakes her head as she responds.
“What’s going on?” I ask Ves, who’s watched the whole conversation in silence.
“Davina…tell Elena…go home,” Ves says. “Scholars help you now–”
“No!” I snarl, pulling Elena into my side.
The scholars’ eyes snap to me, each and every one of them radiating sudden fear. I let out a low growl, daring them to move, and Fenrik bares his teeth on the other side of Elena.
“You will not take her from me,” I say through gritted teeth.
My free hand moves instinctively to my blade, and I watch as one of the scholars behind Davina staggers back a step. Davina,meanwhile, holds up her hands. “Ragnar,” she says. “No one intends to harm you. Elena needs to return to her studies; we want to help you–”
“Help me?” I cut her off. “You think you can help me by taking her away? She’s the only thing I know in this shattered world!”
Elena’s hand tightens on my arm, and I realize Ves has been translating for her, murmuring everything I’m saying. Elena looks up at me, her eyes pleading. “Ragnar,” she says. “Safe. Fenvarra.”
Davina sucks in a breath, as does Ves. I’m not sure if anyone else knows what it means–but they do.
