Page 92 of Polestar
Bjorn’s throat worked as though he struggled to work words up to his mouth.
Elias shot to his feet, rushing toward a small table bearing a pitcher and cup, where he poured water for Bjorn.
“Here,” he eased his arm under Bjorn’s shoulders to raise him enough to drink.
He took several tentative sips and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Elias helped him lie back, then returned the cup to the table.
“Grandfather, what has happened?The shaman is gone, you’re ill, and Havard is behaving oddly.He’s so determined to keep me out, I had to use the secret way in.”
Anger flared in the old man’s eyes as he reached toward his throat.His fingers shook as he pulled at the collar of his sleep shirt.“Can’t…” he puffed, panting as he struggled to find words.
Elias gasped.
“… speak,” he finally managed.
“The sigil.Is it magic?”
Bjorn gave a weak nod.
“What does it do?Havard said mother gave it to him for his dedication.”
“Heh,” Bjorn laughed, his head rolled from side to side.“No.”
“But who?Why?”Elias asked, voice rising.
“Hshhh,” Bjorn cautioned, hand wavering out toward Elias with his eyes closed.
He’s so exhausted.
“Ulla.”
Elias’ entire body turned more frigid than any arctic swimming he’d ever engaged in.
No.
His mind raced.
It’s not true.There’s no proof.None.
Except for the strange tattoos that the shaman had not etched, by Barentian tradition.
No.
“Magnus?”
“Chained in the dungeon, waiting for his execution.”Elias couldn’t hide the bitterness from his voice.
Pain clouded Bjorn’s eyes before he closed them.“Let him go.When your mother is distracted.Use the tunnels.”He drew a deep breath.“Tell him… I’m sorry.”
“I can bring him here to see you, Grandfather.”
Bjorn shook his head.“No time.Let him go and…and you hide until he comes back for you.”
Elias stared in confusion, heart pounding.“I don’t understand.”
“Promise,” Bjorn panted.“I don’t have long, Elias.Promise!”
