CHAPTER TWELVE

The Raven’s Test

They stood in a dark ice passage. Lanterns had been mounted on the frozen walls, each one powered by an ice crystal that sent the blue-green glow of the Northern Lights flickering through the passage. Magic. It vibrated through the mountain.

‘Come on,’ Saga said quietly, leading the way. Her boots crunched on the ice and, beside her, Bjørn’s fur was raised. Nerves tingled down her spine, but she ignored them, focusing on the mist she breathed out instead, like a dragon. She sidled a glance at Canute, but his expression gave nothing away. He wasn’t boasting about anything so maybe that meant he was nervous.

At Saga’s other side, Ruvsá offered her a smile, wide and carefree. ‘We did it,’ she said. ‘We’re three of the fifty contestants!’

Saga smiled back, relieved she’d made it inside the castle. Though she couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been a little too easy.

At the end of the passage, a large iron shield was embedded in the ice. It had a seam running down the middle, suggesting it was another door. ‘There must be a way to open it without magic,’ Canute said, searching for a handle. ‘There aren’t any runes on it.’

But Saga and Ruvsá were looking at the huge carved raven that was perched on the shield. It had ice crystals for eyes and seemed to be watching them. Bjørn growled and Saga rested a hand on his back.

‘It must be a test of strength.’ Canute tried – and failed – to push the doors open. The raven’s eyes suddenly flared bright blue and its wings spread across the shield. Canute yelped and stumbled back.

The raven spoke in a deep voice that gave Saga chills. ‘Only those who are worthy may pass.’

‘How do you decide who’s worthy?’ she asked.

‘Those who are worthy of entrance must have honour and courage. Tell me your greatest secret and you shall pass.’

Ruvsá exchanged a nervous look with Saga.

‘Why does telling you our biggest secrets prove that we have honour and courage?’ Canute spluttered indignantly.

But the raven only stared back at him.

Saga almost pounced towards the raven, keenly aware of how close the sorcerers were now and how much time had passed since she’d set off for the Far North. She stood on her tiptoes to whisper as quietly as she could, ‘I’m afraid of magic.’ The raven returned her unblinking look. She waited but … nothing. Disappointment whirled in like a storm.

Ruvsá stepped forward. ‘Let me try,’ she said, and Saga switched places with her, annoyed that Canute looked smug again. Saga couldn’t hear what Ruvsá had murmured under her breath, but suddenly the raven’s wings moved.

‘Did you see that?’ Saga gasped.

The raven flapped its wings, and the shield doors whooshed open. Ruvsá walked through. ‘You have to tell it your deepest secret!’ she called back. Canute ran towards the doors, but they slammed shut the second Ruvsá was clear of them. The clang echoed through the corridor, sending icicles plummeting. Saga and Canute ducked before one speared them, hearing them smash into the ice at their feet. Bjørn, who had clamped his paws over his face, huffed worriedly and stood closer to Saga.

‘Only those who are worthy may pass,’ the raven repeated, sounding even colder.

Saga shivered. She and Canute looked at each other. He crossed his arms and looked down at the ice. ‘You might hear me,’ he said sullenly.

‘Fine,’ Saga snapped. Approaching the raven again, she lowered her voice to the tiniest whisper she could manage, determined not to let Canute hear. ‘I’m scared of magic, but I keep dreaming about runes,’ she told it. The raven refused to budge. ‘I have a magical destiny,’ she tried instead, getting impatient. Nothing again. ‘I’m not really going to enter the contest – I just need to get inside the castle?’ Still nothing.

‘It has to be your deepest secret or it won’t work,’ Canute called.

She turned to glare at him. ‘I know that. I’m trying!’

‘Let me have a turn, then.’ Canute marched over, his breath feathering in the air. ‘It’s too cold to stand about waiting.’

Saga stood aside. When Canute glanced warily at her, she sighed and moved further back, trying not to let him see how cold she was too. She secretly wiggled her fingers and toes before she became an icicle herself. Bjørn pushed his nose into her arms and she fussed over him, hoping all his fur was keeping him warm.

Annoyingly, the shield doors flew open for Canute. ‘Have fun.’ Canute smirked as he strutted through, ignoring Saga’s scowl and leaving her and her bear alone with the raven.

She took a deep breath. ‘It was my fault my parents’ shield vanished and the trolls attacked my village?’ she offered. The raven seemed to be glaring at her now. ‘I’m more annoyed about this than you are,’ Saga told it grumpily. Bjørn huffed on her behalf. Saga sighed again. ‘Which means that it was my fault that Afi and Dag were taken by the trolls?’ The raven’s ice-blue eyes glinted. ‘What do you want from me?’ Saga exploded. ‘To tell you every little last detail of my life? Do you need to hear everything that I’ve done wrong before you let me in? Well, it was my fault that my parents died in the first place; how’s that?’ Saga fell into the darkest, most horrible thoughts she’d ever had and never told anyone. ‘They died protecting me.’

The raven didn’t move. Saga turned away, slumping in defeat as Bjørn let out a sad whimper, his dark eyes softening with worry.

Behind her came a slow creak, then a rustle of wings.

Saga turned, hardly daring to hope, but the shield doors were opening for her.

Saga gaped. ‘What I said is true? It was my fault?’ she whispered, horrified. Bjørn nudged her forward as Ruvsá waved, calling from the other side, so Saga pushed her terrible feelings back down and ran through with her bear.

A staircase greeted her. Its steps were hewn from ice, and it was so tall that Saga couldn’t see the top of it. It disappeared into darkness. Ruvsá and Canute were waiting at the foot.

‘You did it!’ Ruvsá looked relieved and Saga smiled at her.

‘Finally,’ Canute grumbled under his breath.

Saga ignored him and looked up at the stairs. There were no railings or handles and she tried not to imagine what would happen if you slipped. Parts of it looked like a slide – impossible to walk up – but the ice had small holes and chips in it where people had climbed up with tools or weapons. On one side of the staircase was a single lantern. Its light was dying.

Saga left it there and climbed on to Bjørn’s back. ‘Come on.’ She held out a hand to Ruvsá and pulled her up behind. ‘Let’s see what’s inside this mountain.’ She needed to find the sorcerers and get help as quickly as possible. She offered a hand to Canute, but he shook his head and pulled out a knife, carved with dragons, which he stuck into the first step and began proudly climbing up.

‘Catch him if he falls,’ Saga whispered to Bjørn, who slowly followed him. The staircase was no match for Bjørn’s claws. With each heavy bear step, the ice groaned, but Bjørn did not slip once. It didn’t take long for the lanternlight below to be gobbled up by shadows, leaving them to traverse the treacherous pass in blackness.

‘We should have taken that lantern,’ Ruvsá’s voice echoed.

Saga winced. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’ve got it.’ Ahead of them, Canute paused, wiping the sweat off his face. Holding on to his knife so that he didn’t slip, he dug one of his nails into the ice and quickly inscribed a rune. White flames flared up along the step. The ice walls reflected their heatless glow, illuminating the way ahead. It was further and higher than Saga could have imagined. Behind her, Ruvsá let out a soft gasp.

‘It’s going all the way up inside the mountain,’ Saga realized out loud. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us?’ she asked Canute.

‘And give your bear a chance to eat me? No way.’ Canute sighed and began to climb again. Bjørn followed, placing his paws carefully round the flames of light.

Up and up and up.

Until Saga dared to glance over her shoulder and her vision wobbled. The staircase might have been one that clambered up to Asgard, realm of the gods, it was so long and high. She began to wonder if they would ever reach the top, if there even was a top or just more stairs. Yet even the longest of stories must eventually end, and so did the staircase.