A Shard of Sun (23 page)

Thyra watched him warily, and behind her, Ragna remained quiet, deferring. “Father, Sverin threatened me with exile and death even knowing I carry Kjorn’s kit. He killed Einarr, who tried to serve loyally until it became clear that Sverin was mad. Before he left me, Kjorn was resigned to let us do what we needed to do if his father could not be contained nor brought to see reason.”

“Do you have any idea what will happen?” Caj looked between both queens. “He could kill anyone you send. Do you want more weeping gryfesses to tend to? More injuries, more death?”

“Not even Sverin could best a number of young, healthy warriors,” Ragna murmured.

“He’s not Sverin anymore,” Halvden said. “My
lady
. He’s not a king, not an Aesir even. He’s Nameless.” He looked to Thyra. “He’s a wild, starving beast, desperate to survive. He has no sense of honor. He won’t spare them for the sake of their families.” He looked at Caj. “Or they’ll kill
him
. Something has driven him mad, and mad he remains.”

“Be silent,” Ragna snapped, showing a temper at last. Caj agreed, though he recalled earlier that winter during the Long Night, when Ragna hinted she knew something about Sverin that Caj himself didn’t, some guilt. Something enough, perhaps, to drive a king mad. Ragna shook her head. “It’s no business of yours, now.”

“But it is.” Halvden inclined his head when she fixed her cool green eyes upon him. “He is my king. More than that, I swore a wingbrother vow. Though he wasn’t in his right mind, I was, and I will be true to it.”

Surprised, Caj appraised Halvden’s expression and found it genuine.

“Very well,” Ragna said. “Then you may help by leading our chosen warriors to him. And restrain him, by any means necessary, until Caj can arrive.”

“If I could suggest, instead, that I serve Caj. My greatest crime was against him, and it’s to him I wish to make amends.”

Halvden looked sidelong at Caj, and both Thyra and Ragna looked momentarily bewildered by the suggestion.

“Father?” Thyra asked. “It’s your decision.”

“Oh,” Caj said, tail twitching, “if Halvden wishes to make amends with me, I will have work enough for him.”

“Then let it be so,” Ragna said. “Thyra and I will choose warriors. Halvden, tell them where you know of Sverin last sheltering. They will find and restrain him, then fetch you to him so you can attempt to restore him. Does this satisfy all?” She looked from Thyra to Caj, and Caj could only incline his head. Any other argument would be fruitless.

“Let it be so,” Thyra said.

“Thank you, my lady,” Halvden murmured graciously, and Caj watched him with growing suspicion.

“Go make your preparations, and Thyra and I will choose warriors to seek out Sverin.”

“They what?” Sigrun looked dismayed, later in their den when Caj told her. She packed new mud around his wing. “I shouldn’t have left you. I could have convinced Ragna—”

“No, they were set. But at least I’ll have Halvden,” he said blandly.

“Halvden.” Sigrun nearly spat the name. “Watch your back.”

“He knows I can best him. What’s more, I think he genuinely wishes, at least, to prove himself to Kenna. How is Astri?”

“Well enough.” The short answer suggested he shouldn’t pursue the matter. Sigrun continued muttering as she combed gentle talons through the feathers of his wing, followed by a cool pack of fast-drying mud. “Do try not to break this one.”

“I will.”

She sighed, frustrated, but her soft touched eased Caj’s heart. “All this business with two queens, it does nothing to serve the pride. Everything feels split, disjointed.”

“It will be well again, when the princes return.”

That thought quieted them both for a moment. Then, at the same time they asked each other, “What will you do—”

“. . . when Shard returns,” Sigrun said.

“. . . when Kjorn returns,” Caj said.

They both paused, then broke out in long, rueful, weary laughter. Very quietly Sigrun said, “I cannot see Shard exiling anyone, but if it’s to be so, then I will go where you are, my mate. If the Aesir return to the windward land, you will have a daughter, her mate and kit and your lost kin there—”

“I have a son here, too.” He stretched out a foreleg, flexing his talons against the rock floor. “Or maybe that remains to be seen, if he’ll even allow Aesir in the Silver Isles.”

Sigrun’s voice grew tight. “Caj…”

“It’s a possibility we must consider.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

“I will go where you are,” she said again, firmly, and finished rebuilding the cast. “There. That’s as well as I can make it. I suppose you won’t wait until it’s dry to set out.”

“I can’t. I must try to keep up with Ragna and Thyra’s warriors, though they’ll be flying. Halvden’s already told them where he knew Sverin to be nesting. I can only hope he doesn’t kill any of them or fly again before I arrive.”

“Be safe,” Sigrun whispered, touching her beak just behind his ear. Caj tucked his head against hers for a moment, then a rush of wings drew them up.

“Ready?” Halvden asked, not entering, but beating his wings hard to hover just outside the den.

“Show respect,” Sigrun snipped, and Halvden landed, folding his wings.

“I’m ready.” Caj stood.

“Take care of…each other,” Sigrun said, tightly acknowledging Halvden. He inclined his head and Sigrun looked back to Caj. “I will do what I can to help you from here. Don’t stray from your path.”

Caj tilted his head curiously, wondering what she could do from there, but she looked past them toward the entryway and flicked one ear back, indicating she didn’t wish to elaborate. He stepped forward to touch his beak just behind her ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You’d better,” she murmured. He chuckled, and followed Halvden from the den.

They walked in silence from the nesting cliffs, and Caj felt eyes on them, pride members watching their departure. They walked nightward, which he found odd, but Halvden had sworn to help him. Gradually, a half mark later, when Caj noticed they were out of sight of the nesting cliffs, Halvden turned starward to follow the Nightrun River.

“We must move quickly,” Caj reminded him, alert for betrayal and wary of Halvden’s meandering course. “We must try to find Sverin before Ragna’s warriors do. For all her talk of only restraining him, I fear what will happen if they find him first.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem.”

Caj stopped walking. They stood under the spindly cover of birch trees, and heard but didn’t yet see the river. “You lied to them.”

Halvden looked up at the naked, grasping trees. “Ragna’s warriors are heading to the nightward shore as we speak, to search those cliffs there. Far away from the last place I saw Sverin.” He met Caj’s gaze squarely. “My debt is not to those warriors, but you. And I will take you, alone, to Sverin. We both understand that’s best.”

Caj stared at him, and finally collected himself. It was not his first choice to lie, but the deed was done and he was not above taking advantage of it. “Then lead on.”

Halvden nodded once, and turned to lead the way upriver, toward the White Mountains.

S
HARD BACKED AWAY, TAIL
lashing.

He swallowed hard. It felt as if he swallowed his own heart.

His hind paw pressed on something sharp. Lifting his foot, Shard peered back, then edged to the side. There, by the fire, lay a small skeleton, and the grinning skull of a fox.

Shard fought to keep his breath calm.

Two gifts,
Groa had said.
Come over to me.

Gulping down his horror and the slow, eerie cold of understanding, Shard crept back to the gryfon skeleton.

Grasped within the cracked talons was a pouch of rabbit skin tied shut by two long cords of leather. Inside, Shard found two oddly straight stones. Or not stones exactly. One was metal, the other flint.

Fire stones.
He looped it over his head by the leather cords for safekeeping.

“What else?” he murmured.
The only treasure I kept.
At first he saw nothing, then when he shifted and faint light shone through the entrance, it caught on a thin, tarnished silver chain that still hung around the skeleton’s neck. There was nothing else, no jewel, no thick and gaudy pendant, just a simple, silver chain. If she wanted him to have it so badly, Shard thought, he should take it.

Drawing a breath and murmuring a respectful thank you, he drew the long chain carefully through the neck bones, examined it in the dim light, then slipped it over his head with the pouch. It promptly disappeared beneath his long winter feathers. He’d never been honored with any dragon crafted treasures before, and he found that it didn’t make him feel much different.

Shard rested his talons briefly on the brow of the skull, wishing her well in the Sunlit Land. He wondered with no small dismay if part of being a Summer King meant that the dead would be speaking to him often, now.

“Oh,” said a voice from the entrance, and Shard turned, lifting his wings. Iluq stood there, outlined by the dim and rising light. “You’re awake! I’m sorry I let the fire die.”

Shard didn’t know if he’d moved in a dream for the entire night, a dream woven by a long-dead gryfess, but certainly he was awake now. “Iluq…”

“I know,” the little spirit said, and Shard tried to catch a scent, realizing, then, that he’d never smelled either of them, and had thought it was only because of the smoke. “You want to go.”

“You should go, too.” Shard drew a deep breath. “You should go on, to the Sunlit Land.”

“I promised my nest-mother I would wait for you. I promised I would guide you here.”

“Thank you for everything,” Shard said, wondering how long the fox had waited. “For the fish, and the warmth and the splint. Do you know how I can find the dragons?”

Iluq bared his teeth. “Oh yes.” As the dawn light grew, it shone through him until all Shard saw was a beam of sunlight on stone, but he clearly heard Iluq laugh and say, “Follow Midragur.”

The great Wings of Tor spread above Shard as he soared across the Sunland night. After flying all day, the light died and waves of green and trembling pink rippled across the sky. Through them he followed the clustered line of stars of Midragur.

After Groa’s story he worried for Hikaru, and feared that he’d taught the young dragon a false tale, one that showed gryfons in a poor light.

But what was I to do?
He thought, talons flexing.
Amaratsu was the only link I had.…

To know that Kajar had been more honorable, had spoken out against the Sunland dragons using the wyrms to dig their gems, made Shard glad. It would be a good thing to tell Kjorn. A good thing, a tiny part of him thought, to tell Sverin, if the violent Red King would even hear him.

Perhaps I could send him a dream,
Shard thought with a chuckle, then sobered, considering it more seriously. But he would not send the king lies. He understood now how Munin had once created false images to trick him. He hadn’t dreamed of the Silver Isles since fleeing the Horn of Midragur, and realized it was because he feared what he might see.

The vision he’d had of Einarr during the whale attack unnerved him. In his heart, he knew that his friend was dead, which meant things were still unwell in the Silver Isles. If he could help to resolve the situation in the Winderost, he could return swiftly home and restore order. That would mean facing the wyrms again.

The Sunland dragons have their claws in this too and they must help.

Surely the next generation would see reason, would see that perhaps it was only they who stood a chance of speaking sense to the wyrms, of perhaps restoring their hearts and minds.

I wonder,
Shard thought with distant hope,
if even now Hikaru has managed to convince them.

Flat, icy air forced him to focus on his flight and work hard for lift. The muscles in his wings and chest ached. A dull throbbing pulsed up from his broken leg and eventually pounded through his skull. The landscape below glowed as if under a false, colorful sun and he soared high over rolling hills of snow, plains, and black rock.