“We need to get started on the next trial for the Midsummer Games,” I said. “If we don’t win this one, Viggo’s lead will be impossible to erase. And Isveig is far more of a threat than Gregor.”
He looked up. “You’re right.”
Just as he stood to go, a screech echoed through the skies above. A thunderous boom soon followed, like the heavy beating of a war drum. The trees quaked in response, their rustling branches raining leaves all around us.
My heart jolted in my chest. “What is that, Rivelin?”
“A dragon,” he murmured with a hint of confusion in his voice. “But I don’t know why they’d be here. They only leave their cave to hunt at night, and they rarely venture far from the mountains.”
Still, the dragons—or at least one of them—were very much here. The trees above seemed to spread wide, like the pages of a book fanning open. A red-scaled dragon swooped low and landed on the ground just before me. Hot air blasted into my face.
Sulphur and spice and saltwater. Hints of leather and dust.
The scent of the dragon consumed me, choking the breath from my lungs. I stumbled forward and fell to one knee before the creature. Its leathery snout inched toward me and sniffed. Even though it was bound, my hair whipped my face and neck, stinging my skin.
“Aska,” Rivelin murmured from somewhere nearby. “Stay back. This is Daella. She will not harm you.”
I glanced up sharply. The dragon was so close now I could see the varying shades of red on its scales and the reflection of my own face in its bulbous orange eyes, along with the sharp points of every tusk along its wings and the wicked teeth that were larger than my head. I could smell the smoke and fire and the overwhelming power that seemed to pulse from its skin. A tremor went through me.
I swallowed and managed to find my voice to say, “Aska? That’s its name?”
“Her name, yes,” Rivelin said, though he sounded more tense than I’d ever heard him, almost as if he wasn’t convinced these dragons were as harmless as he’d told me. “The others are Eldi, Reykur, and Hita.”
How odd. Those were orcish names.
“And why is she here?” I whispered.
A pause. “I do not know.”
That was not particularly reassuring, nor did I breathe even when the dragon relaxed onto her haunches and neatly folded her leathery wings against her back. She blinked at me, then sniffed again, cocking her head.
The dragon clearly smelled something. Was it me and my orcish blood, or…I glanced down at my pack. It still sat open on the forest floor, where I’d tossed the almost empty sack of Mabel’s mushroom pasties. Even all these hours later, the savory scent of them hung around us like a cloud.
I cocked my head and extracted the final one. “Is this why you’re here? You’d like some of Mabel’s treats?”
Aska eagerly thumped her tail, spraying dust and fallen leaves into my face.
“Well, fates be damned,” Rivelin said.
I started to place the food on the ground in front of the dragon, but Aska shoved her snout into my hand before I could manage. I tensed and slowly opened my palm. Tail still thumping, Aska gently took the pastie from my hand and swallowed it in a single gulp. I could only watch, dumbfounded. All these years, this was what I’d been afraid of? She was no more terrifying than Skoll.
Aska nudged my hand again, a deep rumble coming from her throat.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was our last one.”
She closed her eyes and sighed as she leaned her muzzle against my palm. I stroked her snout, a strange sensation kindling in my heart. It was that tug—that impossible-to-resist urge to bond myself to this dragon, to use her magic as mine. I’d felt this urge all my life, but it had been so easy to force it down when Isveig had eradicated all the dragons.
All but four, it turned out.
And if I was not careful, I knew I’d give in to this desire. I couldn’t ignore it forever. No one ever did.
Slowly, I pulled back.
“Daella,” Rivelin said, snapping my attention away from Aska and those flaming eyes that seemed to see through me, right into my soul. “Is your hand all right?”
“What? Of course it is. She wanted my food, not my fingers.”
“I meant your skin,” he said so intently, a chill caressed my bare arms. “No one can make contact with dragons. It burns. That’s why I can’t get close.”
I blinked. “Oh. I’m fine. I suppose that’s not much of a surprise since I seem to be immune to fire in general.”
“Yes, but I do wonder…” He stared at the dragon for a good long while, then blinked and shook his head when Aska suddenly pushed off the ground and returned to the skies, leaving behind a whirlwind of leaves and dirt. “Your mother was an orc, and she died in a Draugr fire, you said?”
I frowned. “Yes, that’s right.”
“That’s what I thought. I’d hoped, perhaps, Aska’s fire might melt your ice shard, but it’s too much of a risk to try.” He sighed. “We best return to Wyndale. After the past few days, I think we could both use a good night’s sleep.”
T he next week passed quickly. Gregor never showed himself, and we focused our attention on the trial when we weren’t working on commissions in the forge and Rivelin wasn’t digging around the Archives for a way to melt my ice shard.
For the Jordur Trial, we were to use the elements of the earth to create something truly remarkable. Unfortunately, this task didn’t line up with Rivelin’s strengths the way the last two had. Every morning, I’d catch him at the dining table, surrounded by piles of sticks, rocks, and flowers, looking completely helpless. Truth be told, I wasn’t much help.
“Perhaps we could make a rock formation.” I poked around at the pile of stones. It was one day before we were to present our creation to the spectators. So far, we had little to offer.
“We could. And then we would lose,” Rivelin answered dryly.
I dropped into the chair across from him and tried not to stare at the way his freshly washed hair curled across his ears. The past few days had been fraught with tension between us. I hadn’t mentioned our intimate moments, and neither had he. Every now and then, I’d catch him staring at me from across the forge, sparks and heat dancing between us. But he never took it further than that, and neither did I. As far as I could see, whatever this was between us was doomed. Soon, I would be forced to leave this place, and I’d never find the freedom to return.
All I could do was ensure Wyndale was protected before I went.
“Right.” I flattened my hands on the table. “From what I can tell, the Games tend to follow the same pattern each year, yes? You always do something with a boat for the first task, and then you have to create something using fire for the second one. And now we need to present something earthen for the third. Is that the same every year?”
He nodded. “That’s right”
“So what have others done in the past?”
Rivelin drummed his fingers on the table. “Nature wreaths, bug hotels, flower arrangements, art using stones. Some have crafted bowls or plates. The truth is, all of these work just fine, but none of them are spectacular enough to guarantee a win. After that fireworks display, Viggo will have something up his sleeve, I guarantee it.”