Another lash, another hellishly cold sting of ishonar, another scream that I slowly realized was emanating from the back of my own throat.
A pause, and then the lashes began to fall in earnest, as if all the pain in the world could break through the wall that had formed in my memory. And I began to scream, unable to stop, as I realized I had just lost everything dear to me in the world. And at that moment, I willed myself to die.
Later, when they had done all they could to me, but could prove nothing—no truth uncovered—I stood on the edge of the temple as they administered the final punishment: With one quick lop, the High Priestess sheared off my ankle-length hair at the nape of my neck. Now everyone would know I’d been banished from the temple—at least as long as it took to grow it out again. As she threw the golden strands into a fire pit, my nose wrinkled at the smell, and I hung my head, weeping silently.
My life was shattered. My head ached from the violation my mind had suffered. My back hurt beyond any pain I’d ever felt. But I understood that I wasn’t going to die, as much as I’d prayed for it.
The doors slowly began to shut. I turned and screamed, throwing myself to the ground. “Don’t forsake me. I am called by the goddess! She is in my heart. Kill me, please.”
The High Priestess stared down at me and a sorrowful look filled her eyes. “This is the last any of us will ever speak to you unless you can prove that you did not kill Vikkommin and bind his soul to the shadow. You have been stripped of your strongest powers and are no longer a threat. You have been stripped of the title of Ar’jant d’tel. You are excommunicated from the order. Go forth, back into the world. For your life here is over.”
She turned away, slamming the giant doors against me.
I stayed prone for a long time, weeping until the tears froze on my face. Slowly, when the cold ate into my body, I stood and shouldered my pack and—as it rubbed against my wounds, setting off sparks of pain—began the harrowing journey down the mountain toward the portal that would take me out of the Northlands, back home to Finland where I would have to lie to my family to avoid the embarrassment my downfall would bring on them.
“IRIS, ARE YOU okay?” Camille poked me on the arm.
I shook out of my memories and blinked. “I just . . . it’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I stayed at this inn a long, long, long time ago. It is very old yet still it stands against the ice and snow.”
We headed up the steep flight of steps—the entrance to the inn was a full story off the ground, to avoid being snowed in every winter. When we reached the door, Howl pushed it open and we followed him in.
The central dining hall was huge and jam-packed. Northmen, a few ogres, a large party of dwarves, and other mountainhearty folk filled the room. Howl motioned for us to follow him to the bar.
“Jonah, you have the rooms ready?” he asked the barkeep.
Jonah, a dwarf, gave him a curt nod. “Aye, Master Howl. They are ready, indeed. Here are the keys.” He pushed four keys across the counter. “Will you all be wanting dinner?”
“Yes, we’ll eat over there.” Howl nodded toward an empty table, then handed the keys around. “Stew, bread, solid food for traveling.”
We made our way through the crowd to the table and slipped onto the benches. Smoky seemed unusually silent and I tapped the table in front of him.
“Is everything okay?”
He gave a quick shake of the head. “As far as I know, but I am uneasy. We need to keep watch. My father could be in this area and he would have the advantage here.”
Smoky’s father had a grudge against Camille, as well as his son, and had threatened to kill them just a few weeks prior. Now we were headed into territory that led to the Dragon Reaches and could easily meet Hyto or his friends.
“We’ll keep our eyes open,” I murmured.
Roz let out a long breath. “No matter how many times I come here, I am astounded by the strength and resilience of the inhabitants. I cannot imagine living here.”
“It is beautiful, if you like your beauty sparse and cold,” Smoky said. “The Dragon Reaches are snowy, but they are at the top of the world, where the mountains are craggy and overlook fields filled with mist and fog. During the summers, the Northmen bring their goats and oxen to the fields to feed, and we have bounty. They always bring extra, as a tithe, for we allow them use of the fields. An ox cow can feed a dragon for well over a month.”
He leaned back, draping one arm around the back of Camille’s chair. “At some point, I will take you home to meet my mother, love.”
She paled. “After meeting your father, I’m not sure how much I look forward to that.”
“My mother is far more pleasant than Hyto.” Smoky grinned at her, but then a scowl crossed his face. “If he comes near you, he will die.” Hyto had threatened to rape and eat her when they’d met.
Just then Jonah appeared at the table with a cart covered in plates. Heaping bowls of beef stew, thick loaves of bread and a crock of butter, a wheel of cheese, an apple pie, and a pitcher of beer soon sat in front of us. The rising aroma made my stomach rumble. My last meal had been lunch.
Howl motioned for the bartender to pull up a chair. “Sit for a moment. We seek information for our journey.”
Since nobody in their right mind refused an Elemental Lord, Jonah was only too willing to do so.
He glanced at the rest of us. “How do? I’m Jonah and I own this inn.” He looked at us each in turn, and when his gaze fell on me he paused. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
STRUGGLING INTO THE inn, my pack was so heavy that I could no longer feel a thing in my legs or arms. Somehow, I’d made it down the mountain despite my pain and humiliation, although at one point I could swear I’d had help crossing a chasm from a beautiful spirit, and at another, I thought I’d fallen asleep in the snow.
But when I opened my eyes, I was sitting on the steps of the inn, so I must have walked in my sleep—or the pain was so bad that it had blanked my memory. I pushed myself up and in through the doors to find the room almost empty.
The barkeep, a dwarf, caught sight of me as I stumbled forward and fell. He rushed out, gathered me in his arms, and when I screamed, he gently carried me to a room and called for his wife. He left us alone while she removed my clothes and bathed and treated my wounds, all in silence.
When she was done fixing the last bandage in place, she held my hands and gazed into my eyes. “Ishonar leaves horrible welts, though it does not break the skin. Someone hurt you. Do you want to tell us who? There are remedies that can be taken . . .”
I knew the Northmen stuck together, dwarf, human, and Fae alike. But how could I ask them to go against a temple that was part of their culture? I shook my head. “No . . . no . . . there is nothing to be done. I’m lucky to have come away with my life.”
“Are you sure?”
I held her hands, staring into her eyes. “I’m sure. I have to be sure. Please, ask me no more questions.”
“Then we will let it rest. I’ll bring you dinner and a drink. I assume you are headed toward the portal?”
“First thing come morning.” As I fumbled for my purse, to pay her fee, she waved away the coin.
“You are a stranger in need. Rest now, and I will bring food.”
And she did. I ate—stew and mince pie and fresh bread—and when I was done, I drained the pint dry. She must have put healing herbs in the beer because by the time I finished, I was falling asleep, and for the first time in several weeks, I slept without pain. Slept without dreams.
I GAZED INTO Jonah’s eyes and gave him a slow smile. Should I say anything? Was I the same sprite who’d come down the mountain, still wanting to die? Would he and his wife even remember me?
