Page 20 of The Viking in the Vault
This cannot be M’mir.
Elena stays beside me as we walk through the damaged passages of the archive–not a Borean prison, as I thought, but somehow so much worse. There are no more Borean prisons…no more Skoll expeditions, no more war for liberation. The war is won.
Everyone I knew…everyone besides Fenrik.
I reach down to scratch the skarnhound behind his ears, hoping to catch even snippets of conversation and understanding very little. Elena talks with her friends–not other prisoners, but young scholars. She tells me M’mir is a large school now, not the vault of forbidden knowledge that it was the last time I was here–before Stormcaller took flight.
Before my whole world came to believe I was dead.
The archive takes shape as we move into the areas that weren’t damaged, ultimately climbing aboard a levitating platform that carries up to a higher level. It’s light outside again–my second day with Elena–and I wince at the light. She looks up at me, worried, and I'm surprised when she takes me by the hand and says something to her companion, the Skoll–only for them to start translating.
“Elena want…warn you…might be a lot…outside,” the Skoll, Ves, says. Their command of my language leaves much to be desired, but I take it as a blessing from Yrsa that at least there's someone capable of speaking to me. “Big changes…M’mir.”
I grunt, looking down at my fenvarra, and she gives me an encouraging smile. I find I dislike this new dynamic; before, I was saving her from a dangerous enemy…now, I'm like a wide-eyed, frightened child being led by the hand into an unknown world.
“Tell her I have been through far worse than she could possibly know,” I mutter.
Ves relays the information and I watch Elena for her reaction, waiting to see the annoyance on her face. She doesn't look annoyed at all–which, if anything, makes me feel worse. Elena glances up at me, her expression softening. She says something in response, her voice gentle, and Ves translates again, haltingly. “She say…she know…but still want to…help.”
Her words stir something in me–the only warmth I've felt in centuries, a deep and abiding love for this woman I hardly know. She has no reason to care for me, yet she does. Perhaps it’s her nature, or perhaps she feels responsible for finding me in this shattered place.
Either way, I allow her to keep hold of my hand, though it makes me feel like a fool. I should be taking her to my ship, introducing her to my crew, carrying her to bed…
Instead, she leads me around like a lost pup.
We make the final trek through a magnificent entry hall, pillars of ice arrayed around us. The older Merati female–their leader, I think, looks back at me as we move toward the door. They confer with Elena, who squeezes my hand as if to brace me for what I'm about to see.
I steel myself. It can't be that bad…can it?
Then the door opens, light streaming in.
At first, I’m struck by the brightness of the sky. The auroras dance across the heavens even at dusk, casting the landscape in hues of green and blue. The air is sharp, colder than I remember, and the terrain…
The thought again occurs to me: this cannot be M’mir.
The ice cliffs are taller, their edges jagged and worn, as if the centuries have carved away at the land itself. Or…no, that's not it at all. The cliffs have been intentionally carved away, a glowing village–a city–built in the shelter of those cliffs. Structures I don’t recognize rise in the distance, sleek and alien. The horizon is dotted with strange vehicles gliding smoothly over the ice, their engines humming faintly, and a zipping vehicle moves faster than I can track, over the mountains and then out over a frozen sea.
My chest tightens. This is not the galaxy I left behind.
Elena looks up at me again, her dark eyes searching my face. She says something softly, and Ves translates. “It’s…been long time. Many changes. But…safe now.”
Safe.
The word rings hollow in my ears. How can it be safe when everything I knew is gone? When the very land beneath my feet feels foreign?
I step into the open air, my boots crunching against the snow, and Fenrik follows close at my heels. The skarnhound’s ears twitch, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar landscape with the same wariness I feel. Elena stays close, her presence steadying, but the others hang back, their voices hushed as they observe me.
“Elena,” I say, her name unfamiliar yet comforting on my tongue. She turns to me, her expression open, and I shake my head, struggling to find the words.
“This…” I gesture at the horizon, at the vehicles, at the distant buildings. “This is not…M’mir.”
She frowns, then speaks to Ves, who hesitates before translating. They speak quietly, saying more than would be necessary for a mere translation.
I hate that I don't know what they're saying about me.
Elena nods slowly, then says something back, her tone firm but kind. Ves struggles with the translation, but I catch enough to understand.
“This is M’mir. Just…different now. Time…changed it.”
