I was quivering, but I forced a nod. “Fine. Why?”
“You look like you might vomit.” His brow furrowed. “Or faint.”
“I’m not going to fucking faint, Bjorn,” I snapped, then regretted it as my voice echoed through the tunnels. We both froze, listening, but other than the endless hiss of steam venting, there was no sound but our breathing. “I swear I’ve heard footsteps,” I whispered. “Voices. Do you hear them?”
He was quiet, then said, “The imagination plays tricks.”
Cold crept up my fingertips because he hadn’t denied hearing things. “I don’t think we’re alone in here.”
“Doesn’t mean there are draug,” Bjorn said softly. “It could be that the bones and chimes are tricks set out by the gothar to dissuade those who wish to harm or thieve. Could be that it’s all myth and legend.”
“Maybe,” I whispered, remembering all the dead things I’d stepped over on the endless stairs. Creatures that had not died easily. “Either way, I don’t care to linger.”
Bjorn gave a tight nod of agreement, then continued his sideways progress through the tight space, the mail he wore scraping against the rock.
And then he stumbled.
Something metallic shot past my feet, and I managed a backward glance in time to see a golden cup crusted with jewels go bouncing down the steps and out of sight.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
The sound of the metal striking against stone as it went down and down and down echoed louder than any shout. Worse, it felt like it went on forever, my stomach twisted into knots by the time it finally silenced.
I held my breath, waiting for some sign that we’d been heard. For some sign that something other than us walked the tunnels of these mountains.
“It would seem that—” Bjorn cut off as the air stirred.
Hot mist swirled around my face as though the mountain had taken a deep breath. As though the mountain had…awakened.
“Fuck,” Bjorn whispered.
I squeezed through the tight spot to where he stood. Only to have my jaw drop. The stairs beneath his feet glimmered with coins and cups of silver and gold, rubies and emeralds winking in the axe’s light.
The stolen treasure, and if that part of the story was true, then—
A scream pierced the darkness. Then another and another.
Great shuddering shrieks coming from every direction and none. Voices beyond number, their howls full of grief and pain and rage. Drums not of this world took the place of screams, the rapid rhythm punctuated by sounds of footfalls. Not boots or shoes or even the slap of bare feet, but the scratch of…of bones against stone.
And they were coming closer.
“Run!” I gasped, but Bjorn had already locked his hand around my wrist, dragging me upward.
Terror chased away my exhaustion and I took the steps three at a time, shield bouncing against my back. The stairs ended, and Bjorn cut right down a narrow tunnel, dragging me with him.
Then he slid to a stop.
I collided with him, his chain mail digging into my forehead as my skull bounced off his shoulder. Stunned, I looked past him.
Part of me wished I hadn’t.
Four skeletal figures raced toward us, their forms illuminated by a strange green light. Scraps of leather and armor hung from their bony forms, chilling war cries echoing out of their gaping jaws, teeth blackened and foul. But the weapons in their hands gleamed brilliant bright, as though even in death the draug cared for them.
Twisting, I looked back the way we’d come, but the same green light illuminated the stairs, drums and footfalls growing louder by the second.
We were trapped.
“Freya,” Bjorn said, unhooking his shield from his shoulder, “get ready to fight.”
Ripping my own shield off my back, I drew my sword and then invoked Hlin’s name. Magic flared over my shield as draug exploded from the stairwell. My back to Bjorn’s, I widened my stance and braced, fetid steam filling my mouth with every rapid breath I took.
Empty eye sockets fixed on me, more of their awful screams shattering the air as they surged forward, weapons raised.
“Born-in-Fire,” I whispered, then screamed my own battle cry.
A draug threw itself at me, and for a heartbeat I thought my magic would fail. That the draug would slam through my shield, fingers clawing and teeth gnashing. But the silver glow was the power of a goddess, and it was as though it took hold of the draug and flung it with the strength of Hlin herself.
The draug sailed through the air, smashing into those behind it. Righting themselves, the creatures crouched on all fours, hissing like beasts. Except instead of attacking again, the draug bent their heads together, and my hopes that they were mindless entities disappeared like smoke. Cursed and skeletal as they were, some of the warriors they’d once been remained.