CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Canute’s Secret

Saga stared at the sea, her heart thudding. Her tiny flares of magic were no match for these crashing waves and freezing depths. Even if her parents’ shield could save her, it wouldn’t save Afi from the trolls. The first challenge had taken out more than half the contestants and this one was bound to be harder.

‘You can do this,’ Ruvsá murmured at her side. But when Saga turned to reply she realized that Ruvsá was talking to Canute. Canute, who looked as if he might snap in half like an icicle, frost-white with fear and shivering as he stared at the slippery darkness. And though she was scared too, Saga reached out and held Canute’s hand. She didn’t think he would hold it back, but he gripped it tightly and whispered, ‘I can’t do this.’

‘Scared, are we?’ Rollo’s grey gaze fixed on their hands. ‘Perhaps you children ought to turn back now before you come to any real harm.’ His smile was thin.

Torben snorted. ‘I think they’ve more than proven their mettle,’ he declared, gesturing at Canute as he added, ‘Why don’t you go first and show the good sorcerer what you’re made of?’

Rollo looked sceptical.

Canute looked as if he was going to faint.

Rollo signalled to Holger, who removed an ice crystal from his pocket and drew on its magic to conjure two curving lines of purple flames that rushed around the shoreline, meeting in the middle with a crackle of magic. ‘So that we may all watch your endeavours,’ Rollo said. The ice crystal turned dull once drained of magic, like an ordinary pebble, and Holger tossed it away.

Saga frowned. ‘Don’t the sorcerers work hard to dig those out of the mines?’ she whispered to Ruvsá, who nodded, a flash of wariness passing over her face. Saga felt as hot as the purple flames dancing nearby; she couldn’t believe that not only had the sorcerers refused to help with the troll attacks, they were also wasting powerful magic on silly things. The sorcerers claimed that they were too busy working hard in the ice-crystal mines beneath their castle to bother with troll attacks or overseeing the Fifth Winter contest, but it didn’t seem like they were that busy. And they must have more than enough ice crystals if they were throwing away empty ones like Holger just had!

Then Canute moaned with fright and Saga turned her focus to him. ‘You faced the white bear and got the talisman,’ she reminded him in an undertone. ‘You still haven’t told us how, but I’m guessing that your huge secret has something to do with it,’ she teased. She was surprised that his secret had stopped bothering her as much as it had when they’d first met, but she supposed that becoming friends with somebody meant that you accepted them for who they are, and you didn’t ask questions about things they weren’t ready to share yet. Saga knew herself how difficult questions could feel like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs. She’d spent years dancing away from questions about her parents, about why she never carved runes …

A tiny smile flickered on Canute’s face. ‘But we’re not in an ice den here. If I reveal my secret –’ he gulped – ‘everyone will see.’

‘If you don’t, you might drown,’ Ruvsá said helpfully.

‘Ruvsá!’ Saga exclaimed as Canute made another strange moaning sound.

‘Fine, fine! I’ll go first, get it over with.’ Canute was sweating now, his eyes wild moons. ‘But you both still have to be friends with me after, OK?’

‘We will be,’ Saga and Ruvsá both promised. It was the first time Canute had properly called them his friends. They only had each other on this vast, desolate island, far from home, and if it hadn’t been for Ruvsá and Canute, Saga would have spent a lot more time worrying about Afi and trolls and runes, and a lot less time eating cake and hopping into bespelled hot springs. If it hadn’t been for them, she still might not have drawn her first rune.

‘Good.’ Canute took several deep breaths and stepped up to the edge of the water.

Torben nodded enthusiastically. ‘Tyr!’ he roared out, slamming his axe against his shield. Fenrir took up the rhythm, thudding his spear into a rock beneath the snow, then the rest of the raiders joined in, their drumming reminding Saga that this was a battle and soon it would be her turn to fight.

Canute looked at the water. Then he began to peel his outer layers off. As Saga peeped between her fingers, she saw his back begin to change. Glistening red patches emerged. ‘Is he growing scales?’ she asked Ruvsá.

Before the girls could figure out what that meant, Canute jumped over the ice. Saga sucked in a breath and Ruvsá yelped and grabbed her arm as Canute arrowed straight down and vanished in the black water.

There was a long silence. Nobody spoke and they couldn’t see or hear anything in the water, even though the shallows were clear and illuminated with the sorcerers’ magical fire. Not even a bubble. Then the surface of the deeper water shattered like glass.

A dragon burst up through it.

It was slender and twisting, with crimson scales that glowed like embers, a pair of membranous wings, two horns that perched atop its long, narrow head, and claws fiercer than Saga had ever seen.

She stumbled back with shock, nearly falling in the snow.

The raiders and shieldmaidens took up defensive stances at once, shields raised, spears and swords pointed up at the huge beast that had flown out of the water. Its scales matched the pattern that had spread over Canute’s back. Unn’s, Leif’s and a few of the stragglers’ mouths had fallen open, but the sorcerers seemed unsurprised. As did Ruvsá. ‘This explains that roar I couldn’t understand when he went inside the bear den,’ she explained to Saga.

‘What do you mean this explains it? This explains nothing!’ Saga gaped at the dragon. ‘How in the nine realms did Canute turn into that?’

A whale tusk was clamped between its jaws. With a shimmer and a twinkle of magic, the dragon melted away until it was just Canute standing there. He picked up the whale tusk that had fallen from his dragon mouth and handed it to Rollo, who calmly instructed him to wait on the sledge with Holger. Everyone silently watched as he walked over to Saga and Ruvsá, pulling on his outer layers as the last glowing red scales seeped back into his skin. Distrustful mutters and strange looks were shot at him like arrows, and Canute hunched over more and more, as if he could disappear.

Saga’s head was spinning.

‘Your turn.’ Canute gave her a small smile.

‘I know I can’t do that,’ Saga pointed out.

But Canute shook his head. ‘Your turn to face your fears,’ he told her. ‘A little magic is better than no magic.’ He shivered then, his clothes still wet. ‘I’ll be watching from the sledge.’

Before she could talk herself out of it, Saga shrugged off her furs, held her breath and jumped in.

The water was so cold it felt like broken glass. Sharp and painful. She guessed she was supposed to use a warming rune to keep it from turning her flesh stiff and lifeless; it was already difficult to breathe from the shock, but before she could attempt anything, her skin glowed a faint blue as her shield shimmered to life. It protected her from the worst of the cold, and she warmed at once. Enough to start looking around. A lost whale tusk. There were twenty-three contestants left now, including her, and only Canute had taken a turn. That meant there were twenty-two tusks scattered around the bottom of the seabed, and she only needed one. But the water was black. Remembering how Canute had burst out of the water in his dragon form, baring his secret to everyone, Saga forced herself to be brave. She’d carved her first runes now without them making her ill – she could do it again.

Steeling herself, she made the shape of the little lightning bolt, Sól, in the water. The rune for light. A tiny glow flickered in front of her, but, once more, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Saga grunted with frustration. She surfaced to refill her lungs with cold, pure air. Then she ducked back down and shaped the rune again.

Like last time with Ruvsá and Canute, the second attempt was easier. But the magic was as tiny as the first flash of light had been and she was immediately plunged back into the darkness with only the shimmer of her shield to see by. Sadly, it wasn’t enough light to hunt for a whale tusk with. Saga’s fear began to shapeshift like Canute had. Only, instead of turning into a dragon, her fear turned into frustration that her magic was so small it could never make a print on the world. Did that mean that she could never make a difference? Never save her afi?

Her chest tightening, Saga was forced back to the surface for more air. When she plunged underwater again, she tried a different rune. One that she didn’t have a name for because she’d only seen it in her dreams. One that looked like the body of a bear, with four lines for legs, and jagged lightning for fur.

Light soared from her rune.

Just as in her dream, it formed a bear made out of dazzling light that glittered like snow. Saga almost sucked in a mouthful of water in her surprise and delight. The bear turned and ran through the water. Saga swam after it. Deeper and deeper it danced, now and then stopping to wait for Saga to catch up, until they had reached the seabed, where the light-bear rested a luminous paw on a long, thin spiral. A whale tusk. It was twice as long as Afi’s sword. When Saga picked it up, struggling to swim back with it, the light-bear began to dim. She kicked harder, her chest squeezing painfully, her head pounding, as the light-bear faded away. When she broke the surface and gulped in big greedy lungfuls of air, it had vanished.

But everyone was staring at her.