“What was your plan?”
Azeem studied him. “Come now, don’t tell me you have no inkling. I’ve put money on this matter.”
Sigvard frowned at him. He did have an inkling, but only because Azeem and his men had discussed options here in the barracks. And Sigvard had always been listening. The talks had not been strictly private, but neither had he been invited to participate. Yet, he had never missed an opportunity to spar just a little closer to the mysterious man, particularly when that man was poring over books, maps, and any other sliver of knowledge he hoarded like gold.
“Are there really mages who could bring the mountain down?”
A corner of Azeem’s mouth quirked. “I had hoped you were going to ask about something else.”
“Because it’s impossible?”
“I don’t indulge in folktales, young man. The amount of power required to bring down the tallest mountain in the world simply doesn’t exist.” His face went deadly serious. “Even if there are people who could perform less grand feats.”
Elemental mages. Sigvard had heard tales of such people, but never supposed they actually existed. Apparently, the knowledge was more common in Ebron, but even the scholars were uncertain of just what was possible. It was a result, he understood, of the mage’s secretive ways and scarcity in number.
Sigvard stared at the ground, then looked back up. “And what if the mountain were to bring itself down?” Azeem seemed ready to offer a retort at the suggestion before Sigvard added, “With only a little help?”
Azeem narrowed his eyes. “What did your brother learn on that mission, sky-rider?”
“It’s a volcano. The mountain is on fire within.”
Azeem’s hands tightened on the banister as Sigvard’s words sunk in. “They are certain?”
Sigvard nodded, and the ghost of a smile curled the ends of the Ebronian’s mouth. “Then I’d say you barbarians with your winged mounts may wish to pay the mages a visit.”
Sigvard frowned. “Why us?”
“Because the journey would take months or longer on foot. But that’s not a problem for you, is it?”
Sigvard thought through what Azeem was saying. “My brother could arrange to send a messenger.”
“Tell him to send you.”
Sigvard stiffened. “Me?”
“Yes, barbarian. The only you I’m talking to.”
“Why?”
“You’re the youngest of the brothers, yes?”
Sigvard nodded.
“And tell me, has the younger Pajel decided to stay with The Vast?”
Sigvard frowned again. “She will.” Magnus had confided as much, but only when his hellion hamma was not present.
Azeem nodded. “Well then, considering the nature of your people’s laws, it must be you.”
Sigvard fought the urge to walk away from this man, who seemed to be enjoying the frustration he caused. After another irritating moment, the Ebronian finally explained himself. “The mage you’d be seeking, the one with the power to wake a sleeping mountain? She is female.”
Sigvard blinked, and his mind took a moment to catch up to where Azeem had led him.
The dark man smiled broadly. “That poses a problem for you if she’s ‘unclaimed,’ does it not?”
Sigvard’s jaw tightened, the full implication of Azeem’s words taking root. He was suggesting that Sigvard claim her, this elemental mage, and bring her back to the mountain. Sigvard’s first instinct was to say ‘no’ and leave the barracks as quickly as he’d come. But something stopped him.
You don’t get to say “no,” anymore, Sigvard.
He’d discuss this with Hollen, make certain that this was the path his Salig wanted to pursue. The mage might already be married, might be an old crone for all Sigvard knew. But it wouldn’t matter. He’d long ago given up on the thought of a true bonding. So if this was what his brother asked of him, Sigvard would do it. And damn whatever jealous husbands or wrinkly crones stood in his way.
“Well, sky-rider, I can see you’re thinking it over. What say you?”
Sigvard’s face went as stony as his heart. “May the mountain fall.”
Order Sigvard the Nameless here now…
“He’ll break her chains. She’ll free his soul.”
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About the Author
When Denali Day was trying to figure out “what to be when she grew up” she noticed all her written stories featured a scene where the beautiful heroine patched up the wounds of a gallant hero. So she decided to become a nurse. Twelve years and two degrees later, she realized all she ever really wanted was to be a writer.
Now she lives in the midwest with her adoring husband, a real life gallant hero, and their two wicked goblins (children). When she isn’t writing she’s reading and when she’s not doing either of those things she’s probably plundering the fridge for something she can smother in whipped cream.
Also by Denali Day
Sven the Collector
Erik the Tempered
Ivan the Bold
Magnus the Vast
Sigvard the Nameless
Glossary
aluk nuril (ah-look new-reel): ‘The Edging’, in which Ebronians are brutally trained for the military
amo tanshi (ah-mo tah-n-she): place of bonding (Dokiri language)
arlig (are-lee-g): Arlig the Protector was the first Dokiri rider, according to legend
arliga (are-lee-gah): goddess (Dokiri language)
atu (ah-too): your/yours (Dokiri language)
azureal (ah-zoo-real): Ebronian goddess of sanctity
bedmeg (Bed-meg): one of six Dokiri clans along the Crook-Spine mountain range
bok (boh-k): a smooth-walled cave hollowed out by ancient volcanic creatures (Dokiri language)
chakva (cha-k-va): an expletive (Ebronian language)
dokiri (doh-ki-ree): a race of peoples who dwell in cold places, large bodied, hardy, unable to produce female offspring
ebron (eb-ron): desert lands to the south west of the Crook-Spine mountain range
gegatu (ge-gah-too): wyvern (Dokiri language)
gegatudok (gegah-too-dock): a rite in which Dokiri boys become men by taming a wyvern (Dokiri language)
glanshi (gla-n-shee): an expletive (Dokiri language)
gritu (gri-too): a widowed Dokiri hamma (Dokiri language)
hamma (ha-ma): only/mated woman (Dokiri language)