Without his permission—whatsoever.
“So. Rikyava. Good to see you again.” Jarl Jorg has a twinkle in his eye as he regards me. Though we’ve never exactly spoken, it’s clear he’s just as much a rascal as his great-grandson as he grins at me in our current predicament. His gaze slides up and down me now, appreciative, though I’m swaddled in Magnussen furs.
Him standing completely, and unselfconsciously, naked before me.
“Jarl Eriksson. Thank you for coming.” I give a deep nod, putting a hand to my heart, though my station as Hög Skjaldmær means I need do no Jarl such honor, even one so old and celebrated as Jorg.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of missing a chance to meet the drakaina who managed to snare my hotheaded great-grandson for a lifemate.” Jorg chuckles, though something in his grass-green gaze is piercing now as he regards me. “We’ll have time to discuss that later. For now, I have a small moment to help you three not die today. And with any luck, you’ll get through this.”
“What do you know that might help us, grandfather?” Ström asks, as the real reason for Jarl Jorg approaching us right now comes out.
“The thing you feel called to touch at the bottom of this lake—don’t,” Jarl Jorg says with alertness now as his vibrant green gaze pins us. “Once you are cut by the silver Truthtalons, you will feel a pull towards what lies at the very center of this lake. There are truths and there are truths, younglings. Death has a true feeling—as does life. You will face that choice when you come to the bottom of that lake. Choose wisely, and all three of you may survive this. Use your power as a trio, returned to you now, to get through this. Fail to support each other, and help each other choose life… and nothing I can do as a Jarl will get you out of this. Understand?”
“Understood,” Ström says, as both Bjorn and I nod. We’re out of time, though; as Jarl Jorg lifts the soundproofing barrier, I realize he’s not asked Ström for his pick to become the next Jarl-Heir if he dies. Either Jarl Jorg already has someone picked out, or he expects us to make it through this today. I hope it’s the latter, as my mates and I turn.
To face Jarl Oggi Magnussen again.
He’s shifted back up into his massive gold and black dragon upon the ice. As he puts on the last of the five Truthtalons, he snorts, jutting his chin at us. I know it’s time to get naked, and don’t hesitate to strip away my furs as my drakes do the same.
Silent now, bolstered by what Jarl Jorg has told us, even if we don’t quite understand it, we stand tall as Jarl Oggi’s big drake sidewinds in before us. His movement is so fast, I don’t even see it as he swipes us. The pain from those silver talon tips burns like fire as it goes raking across my torso and upper thighs, searing five lines of agony across my body.
Even as I register that, catching my breath to see I’m already bleeding a lot, I see how those five talon-slashes are just that—slashes. They didn’t cut deep, didn’t disembowel me or rake through any major veins or arteries.
A fair fight, now that Jarl Jorg Eriksson is watching today.
As Ström, Bjorn, and I gasp, shuddering from the pain, I feel how Bjorn got the worst of it. He was on the leading edge of his father’s slash where he stood beside me—as such, his gashes are deepest, and I’m sure Jarl Oggi planned it that way. Ström got the least injury, probably because of his great-grandfather looking on, whereas I got the middle amount of damage from those cruel silver talons, where I stood between my drakes.
We’re all bleeding now, our blood spattering down to discolor the ice at our feet. With an uncaring snort, Jarl Oggi’s dragon juts his chin for us to shift up.
And get our asses over to the hole in the ice, stat.
“Remember. Focus on life, not death,” I tell my drakes now as we stumble in our injured state to the hole in the ice. We all take deep breaths,preparing to shift, as we manage the vicious pain of our rents. “I don’t know quite what your great-grandfather’s words mean, Ström, but I think whatever we’re about to experience down there, we need to feel for something with life in it, rather than where our bleeding rents want us to go—towards death.”
“Fuck death.” Bjorn is stolid now as we stand beside the ice hole. As we gaze down into the blue-white water, so cold it’s crystalline all the way to the bottom where massive piles of glacial rocks are, I feel Bjorn’s righteous wrath. “This doesn’t end here with my father. Not by a long shot.”
“Hold on to that as we do this Trial, my friend.” Ström gives a dark frown now as he peruses the water, trying to see what we’re in for down below. I feel how bolstered Ström is though by having his family here, including his great-grandfather. Ström’s not about to go down without a fight today, and I feel his renegade heat fill Bjorn and I both up like wildfire now, righteous, as a whirl of Bloodwind from all our powers rushes around us.
“We can’t die here today,” I say, knowing to my blood and bones it’s true, as my united Bloodwalker dragon snarls in my veins. “We have to live to fight the Black Dragon and stop it. And make sure those Bone Mages controlling it never see another sunrise, in addition to the horrible creature they thought they could resurrect.”
“Done and done. And we’ll punish my father for waylaying us in the process.” Bjorn’s voice is a snarl as he glances at us, his irises all gold and seething now with the power of his righteous hate.
“Time to jump in there and see what we can see,” Ström says with a dire chuckle as he nods at the massive ice-hole. “Though this water is clear as diamond, I can’t see shit at the bottom except a pile of rocks. Probably some trick of magic, which won’t be apparent to us until we shift and dive in.”
“Get ready for anything.” I nod at my drakes to shift up. We do, as a trio, and are soon standing on the precipice of the hole in our dragon forms.
Still bleeding out everywhere upon the ice.
I know it will not stop when we dive in, and may get much worse. My head is already getting fuzzy from blood loss: I shake it, then jut my chin at my drakes.
We dive in through the ice hole together. The vicious chill of the water hits me like a ton of bricks, hammering the air from my lungs as I crash on in. I feel it hit my drakes the same way and we surface, taking one last deep lungful of air and letting ourselves adjust to the nearly freezing temperature. Then we dive down, holding our air in our lungs and our magic close around us so we don’t bleed out too fast.
As we hold life in our hearts—to make it through this.
Once we’re beneath the water, whatever magic that held the Truthstone invisible comes clear. As I see it, I feel more than hear both my drakes snort in horrified astonishment at what we’re seeing.
Though there are massive boulders at the deep bottom of the lake, something else is visible now as well. Thousands upon thousands of skeletons, a veritable abattoir of dragon bones lies at the cold, clear center of this lake, like some ancient battle where all the dead were piled into the water to rot.
All those skeletons are far larger than modern Blood Dragons. Just like the bone-dragon sentinels we saw inUnhaemmerten, these ancestors of ours were far larger, and far more deadly, than anything we are now.
