“Thank you for listening. Both of you.” Bjorn turns his head and kisses my temple. I feel his drake move in a less rageful coiling inside him now, though it’s still faint with our manacles on. “It feels good to talk about it, even though I still hate him. And will until the end of my days.”
“You should give up trying to impress him, then,” Ström says with a teasing smile, though it’s gentle. “Be your own drake, Bjorn. You’re more than strong enough for it. Especially with Rikyava and me behind you.”
“I know.” Bjorn sighs as he nods at Ström’s wise words. Before we can discuss our situation or Bjorn’s past any further, however, Captain Mortensen suddenly returns, stepping up to the bars.
We rise at once, throwing off the blankets and moving to the ironwork door to hear his news. One look at his crestfallen face, however, and I know it’s not the news we want to hear.
Bad news all around.
“I’m afraid the Jarl heard about my call to the King,” the captain says with regret as he watches us. “He stormed in and interrupted it before I could be put through to King Huttr. I’m sorry; he’s now forbidden me from contacting anyone for you, including trying to reach our King again…”
“And there goes our one shot at freedom,” Ström says, as he punches his fist into the wall beside the door. “Fuck!”
Ström is cradling his hand now, because without our natural dragon power flowing through our veins thanks to these manacles, we can’t punch through stone like we usually can. I move to him, helping him examine it, but thankfully nothing’s broken, though it’ll bruise like a motherfucker.
Glancing back to Captain Mortensen, I am firm, even as I pour as much of my drakaina’s power as I can through our Bloodbond to helpStröm heal. “We need to get an audience with the Jarl again. We need to explain to him that something dangerous is out there, rampaging right now because of everything that’s happened. It cast down Seerselen five thousand years ago, and it’s going to do it again with all our clans, if Bjorn, Ström, and I are not set free to hunt it.”
“The creature you’re hunting was the Black Demon ofUnhaemmerten?” Captain Olander’s eyes go enormous now as he takes us all in. “The fabled creature that killed Seerselen—rather than just some monstrous, black-colored dragon?”
“The very same,” Bjorn says as he stares the captain down. “If my father knows what’s best for his people, he’ll set us free to go kill it before it can do what it did to Seerselen all over again.”
“Fucking hells…” Captain Olander swallows hard now as I see a deep accord pass between him and Bjorn. He’s finally understood that the creature we hunt isn’t just some crazy mortal dragon—but a creation of the ancients, which wrecked terrible ruin upon the Magnussen Clan, long ago.
Not to mention all of Blood Dragondom, before it was finally stopped.
Glancing around us all, Captain Olander inhales.
And I know our salvation is coming.
“Challenge the Jarl to a Trial of Truth,” he says as his face firms, decided. “By our ancient laws, he cannot ignore a prisoner who has called for the Trial or kill them outright. The Trial will prove, before an audience of one hundred shamans, generals, and leaders of our clan—as is our ancient law—that you either speak true or you speak false. If you are found to have spoken true before these witnesses, our Jarl must release you. If you speak false, however?—”
“Our suffering will have no end.” Bjorn’s words are dire as they come out with a terrible growl. I don’t know what this Trial of Truth thing is, but I am quick to turn to Captain Mortensen, knowing it’s our only hope.
“We’ll do it. I, Hög Skjaldmær Rikyava Andersen, challenge Jarl Oggi Magnussen to the Trial of Truth. Immediately.”
“Rikyava! You don’t know what you’re saying—!” Bjorn turns to me with horror, his face shocked.
Before he can say more, Ström steps in, placing a hand on his heart. “I, Jarl-Heir Ström Eriksson of the Eriksson Clan, challenge Jarl Oggi Magnussen to the Trial of Truth. Fucker is going to hear it from me, or I’ll die trying.”
As we both look at Bjorn, I see him pale as he hesitates. Because of all of us, only he knows about whatever this Trial entails.
Setting a hand to his heart with a hard sigh, Bjorn nods, with us to the end.
“I, Befälhavare Bjorn Magnussen of the Blood Dragon Kingsguard, challenge Jarl Oggi Magnussen to the Trial of Truth,” he says with a growl. “For whoever is watching us in this cell right now, because I feel our clan’s surveillance magic prickling my neck like an army of ants, take my words to my father. He will see us, even if we have to invoke the Truth to do it.”
“So be it,” Captain Olander Mortensen says, with a dire nod. He surveys the three of us. “Sit tight. I’ll return with the scheduled time of your Trial, though by our laws it has to happen within twenty-four hours, now that it’s been requested. I’ll be back soon.”
As the captain rushes off to make the arrangements for our Trial, I feel somehow like this solution isn’t a win. Because as Bjorn, Ström, and I turn back to the rug and brazier with its crackling fire, Bjorn is dark as the Void.
Stewing, as I feel him prepare for something only he understands.
4
AWAKEN
My First Drake is furious as Captain Olander Mortensen leaves. With a snarl, Bjorn slaps the stone wall of our prison, then turns away from the iron-worked door.
He’s seething so hard, a simmering aura of crimson-gold Bloodwind is rushing off him now, though most of his dragon’s magic is still contained by his manacles. Ström raises his eyebrows at me and I frown. The Trial of Truth doesn’t sound like it’s as dire as my First Drake says.
