“What is this?” I spat. “A riddle? Some sort of test?”

What in the blazes did that mean – I’d come to the right place but could not see it?

“Let me see the injured person.”

“Let me see the place you speak of,” I snapped.

Her snout dipped, then jerked sharply to the left in a gesture I instantly recognized as one of disagreement.

“I cannot do so until I verify what you’ve told me. The children of the cotton do not adhere to the royal order of Bohnebregg nor do we bend to the will of warlords. Being a prince means nothing here.”

“How about the fact that I could crush your skull like a berry?” I seethed. “Does that mean anything to you?”

She inhaled sharply through her nostrils, but maintained her maddening composure.

“When I die our Mother will wrap me in cotton and bear me into her fields. If you inflict violence upon me, it simply means I’ll meet her all the sooner.”

River help me.

“Fine! Get over here,” I replied. I gently pried my wings back, just enough to show Suvi’s curled figure against my chest. “She’s burning much hotter than she usually does. She has injuries on her feet that have worsened immensely.”

A pucker of tension appeared on the woman’s scaly brow, and she appeared to fight the urge to rear back.

“I did not realize you’d brought her from another world. That she was not of Bohnebregg.”

“But you will help her,” I shot back firmly. It was a statement, not a question. If she did not help Suvi, then she’d get to meet her Mother of cotton or whatever the cursed skies she was blabbering about before because I would wring her neck until it snapped.

She met my gaze and raised her snout, angling it sharply upwards to the right. Yes.

“We will try, Skallagrim.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Skallagrim

Skallagrim.

The word felt like a crack of thunder. It exploded all around me, lodged inside me.

Skallagrim. Skallagrim.

I had a sudden tangle of sound in my head. People saying that word. A man with wings like mine and a woman with a snout like mine.

“That’s my name.” I felt like a bit of a half-wit as I said it, slack-jawed and gaping in response. I liked to think I recovered quickly enough, shaking myself back into movement and following the woman in her robes. We walked through rushes and long grass, parting the shivering sea of their stalks.

“You know my name. How do you know my name?” I demanded. “What else do you know?”

“Very little,” was her rather irritating reply as she continued walking. “We do not keep records of the children of the metal here.” She paused, as if deciding whether to continue or not, before proceeding. “You had a Bohnebregg mother and a foreign, stone sky father. One day you went into a berserker rage and disappeared from the world.” Her eyes slid to me from the side before facing forward once more. “I have always heard that you are immortal. I suppose, considering how long you have been gone, that it must be true. But I have to say it is odd to see someone so old in a Bohnebregg body so young.”

“How long have I been gone?” It was a milder, sedated way to ask the real question.

How long have I been in darkness?

“As I said, we have no distinct records of your mother Jolakaia’s time. But it has been hundreds of strides of the Mother. Many generations,” she added at my confused look.

Jolakaia...

A beautiful, haughty face appeared so clearly she seemed to stand before me. She had black hair, like mine, but bound and decorated with metal. She had called me Skallagrim, once. In the deepest and oldest of ways, I knew her, even though most of me had forgotten her.

“There are no records but you know my mother’s name. You know how much time has passed,” I growled, suspicions mounting. That did not add up, and if this woman had deceived me then she would pay dearly for it. “How do you know all this?”

For the first time, the woman’s façade of calm indifference cracked. She hesitated, then took a slow breath, as if clearing her mind, or reminding herself of something important.

“I know all this because Jolakaia’s brother, King Jolar, was my ancestor, and I grew up with the tales of our bloodline’s glory.” A bitterness twisted at the edges of her words, but then her tone returned to neutrality. “You and I are actually the most distant of cousins. Or, perhaps you are more of an uncle, considering your age. It’s how I recognized you so quickly. There is a small, very old portrait of you in the home I grew up in, which is now my brother’s. Although you’d likely think of it as your home. The one Jolar and Jolakaia’s father built.”

“The palace on the river,” I said on a sharp inhale. The one I’ve been searching for...

“Yes.”

“Is that why you are helping me? Because we are related?”

“No,” she said with firm conviction. “I am bound by the Mother to help anyone in need.”

“And are you helping me by leading me into nothing?” I snapped, impatience winding tight around my spine. “Where are we going?” We’d crested a low, grass-covered hill. Beyond it was a field empty of anything besides yet more grass and insects.

Suvi made a small sound of pain, and I lowered my snout, bumping it to her forehead. Her very hot forehead.

Do not worry, little star. I will find a way to fix this. And if this cousin or niece or whatever she is has wasted my time, then I will let you watch me end her when you wake.

“We are already here,” was the Bohnebregg woman’s reply.

“Are you quite well in the head?” Perhaps an ironic question from one such as me, but still needing to be asked. “There is absolutely nothing here!”

“There is nothing here for those who seek the way of metal.” She turned from me, facing down the hill, then murmured a word. Falreth.

Somehow, I both understood that the word meant “cotton” and I simultaneously recognized that it was not a word of the Bohnebregg language. I had no time to dwell on the confusion of linguistics, though, because before my eyes a village – no, an entire city – was coming into view at the bottom of the hill.

She had not lied. She had not led me astray.

A surge of gratitude, maybe even something near affection, for this odd relation of mine made me feel just the tiniest bit sorry for all the times I’d claimed I’d kill her.

“What is your name?” I asked as we descended the hill, towards the gated wall surrounding the city.

She gave me a rather wry smile. “It is a familial name and one you already know.”

We reached the tall gate.

“My name is Jolakaia.” Her smile became more genuine. “Welcome to Callabarra.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Skallagrim

The welcome ended with Jolakaia’s words. The gate was cracked open by someone – a Bohnebregg male – who instantly aimed some sort of weapon at my chest. My chest was where Suvi was held. My power licked out of me like fire, nearly unbidden, in an instinctive rush to protect her. The weapon, something long and tubular, was crushed in the invisible fist of my fury. The male, clearly startled, dropped the tube as if it had burned him.

“Aim another weapon at me or the one I carry, and I will obliterate this entire city,” I said, my voice dangerously low and deadly serious. The male’s eyes fell to my chest, then nearly bugged out of his skull when he saw Suvi.

“Jolakaia,” he said suspiciously, “who are these ones? He speaks like a child of the metal and comes before us naked with no cotton to cover him like a heathen. You have revealed our position and-”