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When we walked through the doors of the Keep, Doolittle waited for us. Roderick's necklace had turned the color of white gold. He was having trouble breathing. The next magic wave would be his last.
Ten minutes later we rode out of the Keep in a Pack vehicle. Curran drove. I sat in the passenger seat, holding a bowl of jewelry and bullets for our offering. Doolittle and the boy sat in the back. Roderick whistled with every breath, and Curran drove like a maniac to the north leyline, his hands locked on the wheel, his face a grim mask. We reached the leypoint in record time and he didn't slow down as he drove the Jeep off the ramp into the invisible magic current. The magic clutched the car and dragged it north to the mountains. Magic or technology, the leylines flowed always and I was damn grateful for their existence.
The current carried us to Franklin, spitting us out at a remote leypoint, and from there we drove up a winding road to the Highlands. It used to be a ritzy destination, beautiful lakes and waterfalls, wrapped in emerald-green forests that spilled from the sheer cliffs. Million dollar homes, leisure boats, play-ranches with pampered horses... But the magic had wrecked the infrastructure and the residents quickly learned that the mountains in winter are much less fun without electricity and take-out. Now the homes lay abandoned or taken over by die-hard locals. Little villages sprung here and there, small remote communities whose residents peered suspiciously at us as we drove by.
Cliffside Lake was beautiful, but we had no time for sightseeing. Eight hours after we had left the Keep, we stood by a mountain scoured with white lightning whip marks.
I had expected an altar, or some sort of mark to show the right spot, but there was nothing. Just a cliff.
I dumped a bowl full of jewelry and bullets onto the rocks. They scattered clinking. "Ivar?"
Nothing happened.
Doolittle's face fell.
"Ivar, let us in!"
The mountains were silent. Only Roderick's hoarse breathing broke the quiet.
We should've gotten here sooner. Maybe the offering worked only during magic, but as soon as magic hit, the necklace would snap Roderick's neck.
"Let us in!" I yelled.
No answer.
"Let us in, you fucking sonovabitch." I hit the mountain with the bowl. "Let us in!"
"Kate," Curran said softly. "We're out of time, baby."
Doolittle sat down on a rock and smiled at Roderick, that patient calming smile. "Come sit with me."
The boy walked over and scooted onto the rock.
I sagged against the mountain wall.
"It's pretty up here," Roderick said.
It wasn't fair. He was only a boy... I put my face into Curran's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me.
"Can you hear the birds?" Dolittle asked.
"Yes," Roderick said.
"Very peaceful," Doolittle said.
I felt Curran tense and turned.
A man walked up the path. Broad and muscular, built like he had to wrestle bears for his living, he had a wide face, lined with wrinkles and framed with a short dark beard and long brown hair. He wore a pair of soot-stained jeans and a tunic.
His gaze fell on Roderick. Thick hairy eyebrows crept up above the pale blue eyes.
"What are you guys doing up here?" he asked.
"We're looking for Ivar," Curran said.
"I'll take you to him." The man looked at Roderick and held out his hand. "Come, little one."
Roderick hopped off the rock and walked over. The dark-haired man took his hand. Together they walked up the steep mountain path. We followed.
The path turned behind the cliff, and I saw a narrow gap in the mountain, its walls completely sheer, as if someone had sliced through the rock with a colossal sword. We walked into it, stepping over gravel and rocks.
"Where are you folks from?" The man asked.
"Atlanta," I said.
"Big city," he said.
"Yes." Neither of us mentioned the necklace choking the boy's throat.
Ahead the sun shone through the gap. A moment and we passed through and stepped into the light. A valley lay in front of us, the ground gently sloping to the waters of a narrow lake. A watermill turned and creaked on the far shore. To the right a two-story house sat on the lawn of green grass. A few dozen yards to the side a smithy rose and behind it a garden stretched up the slope, enclosed by a chain-link fence. Further still, pale horses ran in a pasture.
The necklace clicked and fell off Roderick's neck. The dark-haired man caught it and snapped it in a half. "I'll take that then."
Roderick drew a breath. Tiny red dots swelled on his neck, where the necklace had punctured skin.
"No worries," the man said. "It will heal in the next magic wave."
A shaggy grey dog trotted up to us, spat a tennis ball out of his mouth, and pondered Roderick with big eyes.
"That's Ruckus," the man said. "He'd like it if you threw the ball for him."
Roderick picked up the tennis ball, looked at it for a second, and then tossed down the slope. The dog took off after it. The boy turned to us.
"Go ahead," Doolittle told him.
Roderick dashed down the slope.
"So you're Ivar," I said.
"I am."
It finally sunk in. The necklace was gone. Roderick was safe. My legs gave a little bit and I leaned against the nearest tree.
Ivar studied me. "Oh now, that's not good. Why don't y'all come down to the house? Trisha was making iced tea before I left. It should be about done."
As if in a dream I followed him down to the house. We sat on a covered porch, and Ivar brought a pitcher of tea and some glasses.
"Why make the necklace that would strangle a child?" Curran asked.
"It's a long story." Ivar sighed. "I take it you know what I am?"
"A dverg," I said.
"That's right." Ivar looked at his hands. They were large, out of proportion to his body. "I work with metal. As long as I remember myself, the metal spoke to me. Some things I make are harmless. Plows, horseshoes, nails. Some are not. I have made a blade or two in my time. The thing is, once the blade is out of your hands, you can't control what it's used for. I try."
"Like with Dagfinn?" I guessed.
Ivar nodded. "How is that boy doing?"