He would be at the front. He would trust no one else at her side, and the idea of leading him headfirst into the most hostile environment in the world filled Vhalla with uncontrollable dread.
Up, around, countless switchbacks, and up further still, Vhalla retraced the previous days’ steps until she was in uncharted territory. She came to a wide platform with a low and intricately carved rail. Leaning against a beautifully sculpted alcove was a lean and sharp-looking woman, the archer Vhalla had seen before, and a younger girl no older than fourteen. The archer was on one side of the alcove and the girl on the other, the woman between them.
“Why do they move as they do?” the lean and sharp-looking woman asked.
Vhalla assumed the woman was the head clan’s Chieftain due to her delicate headdress.
I finally found him, Vhalla reported to Aldrik. She stared at the Western man addressing the three woman.
“The Westerner?” Aldrik asked.
Yes, but I need to listen.
Her prince withheld further comment.
“Have you considered our new deal? Perhaps my insights could be improved then,” the Westerner responded.
“You dare withhold information from me?” The woman’s Southern Common was clearer and finer than the other Northerner’s.
“Most certainly not, my lady. I only meant certain things could further improve our relationship.”
“My lady,” the woman repeated with malice. “Spare me your Southern notions of nobility.”
“I am not Southern.” The man bristled. “My people were enslaved by the greed of Solaris, much as yours are currently threatened by it. He turned Mhashan’s rich history into nothing more than a compass point on his map. I know your suffering.”
“You presume too much.” The Chieftain tilted her head back only so that she had further to stare down at the Westerner. “All are southern to Soricium.”
“Will you give us the axe?” the Western man asked, shifting the conversation back to its original topic.
“The axe. Tell me, what do you want with Achel?”
“That is inconsequential.” The man folded his arms over his chest.
“The Emperor brought war because we refused him Achel. But Achel sleeps in its stone tomb, under the eye of the gods. It has slept there since the days of great chaos when light was dark.” The Chieftain fingered the carved archway behind her. “We will not let it be taken by southern hands who have lost the old ways.”
“Are you going back on your offer?” the man asked with a frown.
“Za had no place offering Achel,” the Chieftain said with a sideways look that radiated displeasure.
The archer Vhalla had seen before, Za, averted her eyes in clear shame. Vhalla followed the woman’s emerald stare to what they focused on instinctually. The Imperial camp stretched out below, a long distance to the burnt track that ran around its outer rim. But at the top of that rim was a splotch against the forest.
The same sensation Vhalla’d felt on the night of patrol lingered on the wind. Old Soricium, that’s where the archer was looking. Vhalla had no doubt.
“If Achel is out of the deal, then I will need to contact my allies in camp,” the man threatened to stall further.
“Go ahead, southerner. We would never give Achel to you.” The Chieftain sent the Westerner off in a huff.
Vhalla pulled back from her Projection, blinking her eyes slowly. Aldrik sat at his small table, pinching the bridge of his nose. He seemed more exhausted as spring inched closer.
“Oh, welcome back.” He noticed her as she sat. “You found the Westerner again?”
“I did, but nothing productive in finding out who his informants are or how they communicate.” She’d been trying to uncover it each time, to no avail. Vhalla was beginning to suspect they already had Windwalkers communicating for them.
Aldrik cursed. “Father is beginning to think there aren’t any.”
“There are,” Vhalla insisted, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
“I believe you. He’s just searching for any opportunity to undermine you.” Aldrik stood and stretched.
“Aldrik.” Vhalla ignored the mention of the Emperor. “Crystals—”
“What?” He ceased all movement.
Vhalla knew she would get such a reaction, but she had no idea why. She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Can crystals be used to make weapons?”
“Did you hear that in the fortress?” Aldrik asked.
Vhalla nodded. “They’re talking about something called Achel, a crystal axe...”
“The world has lost its mind.” Aldrik rolled his eyes, making a valiant attempt to shrug the tension out of his shoulders. “Crystal weapons from the days of early magic, forged by gods and given to the original leaders of each kingdom. It sounds like something the Knights of Jadar would believe could be used to ‘reclaim the West’ or some other equal nonsense. Don’t believe a word of it.”
“Before I left, Victor said—”