I crouched next to Thyra and Ilvis on a ledge just feet from the wall. As it shimmered darkly above us, I warmed my hands beside a small fire of smoldering coal. Soup bubbled in a cast iron pot above it. All around, the chosen were leaning against walls, resting and eating. Light from torches wavered around the tunnel.
“Hungry?” Thyra asked me quietly.
I nodded, and she ladled steaming soup into an earthenware mug, then handed the mug to me without speaking. I inhaled deeply. Bird’s nest with chunks of fried bat wing, my favorite. I took a long sip, then leaned against the wall of the cave and allowed the mug to warm my hands.
It was strange being this close to Thyra and Ilvis. Ilvis was silent, with a deeply wrinkled face he kept hidden under the hood of his cloak. Thyra, on the other hand, sat with her hood pulled back as she studied me with piercing gray eyes.
Up on her throne, she’d seemed distant and aloof, but now that I’d spent the day at her side, I’d learned she was more than that. Certainly, she was quiet, but she was also sharp—a fierce intelligence within a wizened frame.
“I didn’t know he was Galin,” I said. “I only knew he was a lich. You sent me on a mission into Midgard, and I was captured. The lich got me out. He looked nothing like Galin, and I knew he wasn’t a High Elf. I traveled with him because I thought we were retrieving the ring you wanted. I swear to you that I had no idea who he was. I always planned to destroy the wall, and I still do. It’s been my dream since I was a little girl. And since Galin sent you that letter, getting me thrown in prison—who do you think wants that High Elf fuck dead more than anyone?”
“Mmmm.” Thyra considered me. “Perhaps.”
“You will see. I will kill him,” I promised. “When do we cross into Midgard?”
“We cross the barrier in the morning,” she replied. “Galin’s wall will be temporarily lifted.”
“And then what?”
“The first contest of this Winnowing is to be held in Boston Common, at the corner of Beacon and Charles Street. We fight at dusk.”
“Until three hundred elves remain?”
“Yes.”
I rubbed a knot in my forehead. “I realize this is our only hope, but this is a bad deal.”
Thyra’s eyes narrowed. “We have Wyrd on our side.”
I groaned inwardly. Wyrd was starting to seem like bullshit to me. “That’s what the High Elves think, too, because everyone tells themselves that. It won’t be enough, not when their weaponry vastly outshines ours. We will need to be strategic.”
“How so?” Thyra leaned forward, studying me intently.
“Our people are armed with rusty swords and broken shields. The High Elves will be in full plate armor and wielding six-foot broadswords. As soon as the Winnowing starts, they’ll charge and cut down half of us before we can even touch one of them. We’re going to get slaughtered if we don’t have a brilliant plan.” I sighed, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a solution. “If I were in charge, I’d lay a trap. Having Wyrd on our side doesn’t mean we can’t also seize the initiative tomorrow.”
Thyra exchanged a look with Ilvis. “Can you be more specific?”
“What if we goad Gorm into attacking us? The High Elves will charge our position and we’ll counter-attack. We can use our vergr crystals to flank them.”
Thyra shook her head. “We can’t use crystals. The Winnowing rules strictly forbid the use of magic. Even scribing a simple rune is grounds for disqualification.”
I shrugged. “So a few of us are disqualified. It’s a tactical decision.”
“The rules state that for every disqualified elf, an additional two elves from their side must also die. I will not sacrifice the lives of our people in that way.”
Balls. “Okay. Forget that.” I closed my eyes, working through the possibilities. “What if we armed ourselves with spears?”
She frowned at me like I was a total idiot. “We don’t have any spears. There are no trees in the Shadow Caverns.”
My mind raced. “Are we allowed to used magic to help in our preparations?”
Thyra pulled a bundle of papers from her satchel. She licked the end of her forefinger, then began flipping through them, muttering under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“It’s the contract I signed with the High Elves. It contains the rules of the Winnowing.” She hummed low in her throat as she read it. Then, she looked up at me. “There’s nothing that says we can’t use magic in our preparations.”
“Did you bring any vergr crystals?”
Thyra nodded. “Yes, but we only have five.”
“Can I borrow them and four elves?” I pointed to the shimmering black magic that made up Galin’s wall. “What if I lead a small team across the barrier tonight? There are plenty of dead trees in the Common we can use to construct spears. We’ll hide them in the snow on the battlefield. Then, when the High Elves charge, we snatch them up and the High Elves impale themselves. I know the landscape. I’ve been there just recently, and no one else has. I can do this faster than anyone.”
Thyra’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cave. “That could work. However, I will instruct everyone around you to slaughter you if you make an attempt to flee or betray us again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And so I’m clear on the plan,” said Thyra, “when you’re done, you’ll return to tell me exactly where the spears are hidden? Or you forfeit your life in an excruciating manner?”
“I will send an elf back to show you where to find the spears.”
“You won’t come yourself?”
I bit my lip. “Do the rules say anything about when we can arrive at the battlefield?”
“They do not.”
“What if I and the other three of my team conceal ourselves in the snow? Once the battle is underway, we could attack from the rear.”
“Only four to attack from the rear?”
I leaned forward, speaking in a whisper. “More of an assassination, focused on Galin. He’s the biggest threat among them. His father had him locked up for a thousand years, like a weapon he was waiting to use, instead of killing him. He’s the Sword of the Gods. The prince is the real threat here. If we sneak up from behind when he’s not expecting us, it’s our best chance.”
Thyra continued to sip her soup as she mulled over my words. At last, she answered, “I will choose your team so that I can be certain they are watching you. They will report any deception back to me.”
“Deal.”
“And one more thing.” Thyra reached into her bag. “I believe this is yours.”
As she pulled her hand back out, I gasped, and a smile curled my lips. A blade glistened in her hand. Black as the darkest cavern, sharp enough to slice an elf’s throat to the bone.
This was my blade. My dearest friend. Skalei.
Thyra glared at me. “Now, hold out your forearms so that I may carve the binding runes again.”
Chapter 10
Galin
I stood on a small knoll overlooking Boston Common, the ancient park in the center of the city. In its earliest incarnation, the Common had been a burial ground for the Wampanoag people. In the Puritan era, it had been a cow pasture and site of the witch-hanging tree. Later, the British had used it as a camp for their soldiers during the American Revolution. It was only in the early years of the 19th century that the city had designated it a park.