CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Sorcerers’ Mountain

The walk over the pack ice froze Saga’s bones. Bjørn’s fur was so frosted that he looked like one of the white bears that stalked these islands. The three children dragged Canute’s boat over the ice in the howling storm. They kept walking until they couldn’t see water, until the world was one of snow and darkness, held firmly in winter’s grip.

‘We need to leave my boat somewhere safe,’ Canute shouted over the vicious wind.

They halted. Saga squinted through the swirling snow. ‘I think there’s a cave over there.’

There was a cave. When Saga forged ahead, she half expected to see the old seer again, but this was no witch’s cave. It was dank and just big enough to pull Canute’s boat inside before they continued on their way.

‘Does anyone know where the sorcerers’ castle is?’ Saga’s question was muffled, her hood pulled low, fur collar high, leaving only her eyes visible. She was getting worried about how many contestants might have already entered. If the castle only let the first fifty in and there were already fifty there, how would she be able to get inside to ask the sorcerers for help?

‘It’s north,’ Canute said confidently. ‘I was taught how to navigate before I could walk. Just follow me.’

‘This whole island is north.’ Saga’s teeth clattered together. ‘And huge. We can’t spend much longer outside – we’ll freeze.’

Ruvsá suddenly stopped. Saga turned to her, waiting for her to speak, but the wind chose that moment to gust harder. It was as if Thor had swept his legendary hammer, Mjölnir, over the sky. The clouds were blown out of sight, revealing a glittering expanse of stars and the moon, sitting heavy in the sky, shining down on a huge mountain. There were meant to be mountains all over these islands, colossal ranges that curved across the land like dragon spines, but this mountain stood alone.

‘There it is,’ Saga whispered. Her stomach churned like the seas. The mountain had sheer ice sides that were impossible to climb and, high above, an enormous castle made of ice perched on a frozen plateau. It had more towers than Saga could count, with pointed roofs and large windows that glowed an eerie blue. Its spire pierced the sky. Behind it, the mountain clawed up even higher, reaching a twisted peak.

The three children and one bear walked towards it in silence. The closer they got, the smaller Saga felt.

At the foot of the mountain, a large iron door was set into the ice. It was frozen and bore no handle, but it glowed with runes.

Saga’s stomach twisted as the magic hummed, high-pitched and shrill. ‘Can you hear that?’ she asked through gritted teeth.

Ruvsá cast her a curious glance. ‘Hear what?’

Saga shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. How do we get inside?’

Canute drew himself up, throwing back his hood. ‘I am Canute Gunvaldson and I am here to pledge myself as a contestant for the Fifth Winter contest,’ he grandly told the door. ‘These are my travelling companions,’ he added, gesturing at Saga and Ruvsá.

Saga glared at him. ‘Travelling companions?’ The runes hummed louder and she winced, hoping that they weren’t too late, that the door didn’t sense she was only pretending to enter the contest. But, to her astonishment, the great door began to rise. With a deep clunking sound that resonated deep inside the mountain, it rose into the ice, until there was a space large enough for the four of them to enter.

‘You can’t argue with success,’ Canute said, grinning smugly at Saga.

Saga rolled her eyes. Then she took a deep breath, the air so cold it hurt, and walked inside the mountain.