Magic of Wind and Mist

  I didn’t, but I wasn’t in a mind to argue with him. Down and down we spiraled. The shore loomed ahead. The water was dark like octopus ink, and when the waves slammed into the rocks I could already feel the soft sting of the cold ocean spray.

  The moon horse flapped her wings once and then glided the rest of the way to landing. Isolfr squeezed my sides, and I let go of Trystan long enough to pat his hand.

  We landed softly, and the moon horse transitioned from flying to galloping with hardly a jolt. She folded her wings up along the sides of her body, covering both of my feet, and then slowed to a stop at the water’s edge. Even with the sea breeze blowing in off the ocean, the air felt as still as summer compared to the howling rush of wind during our flight.

  “Everybody off,” Trystan announced, jumping to the ground.

  “What?” Isolfr said. “Here? We’re out in the open.”

  “And it’s going to be difficult for Frida and Kolur to fetch us,” I said, gesturing at the rocks and the crashing waves. “A rowboat’s not going to get through that.” I frowned. “How are they even supposed to know we’re here?”

  The moon horse whinnied and shook her head, silvery mane rippling over my lap like river water. Trystan leaned close to her. I glanced over my shoulder at Isolfr. He looked like himself, just as he’d told me he would. Radiant, unearthly Isolfr. Pjetur had vanished completely from his features.

  “Senra’s got that all sorted,” Trystan said. “But you’ll need to kindly get off her back.”

  “Sorted?” I glared at him. “Sorted how? Don’t you dare keep sec—”

  “She’s going to toss you off if you don’t get down,” Trystan said.

  I sighed. The moon horse tossed her head from side to side and pumped her wings once.

  “Fine.” I swung my leg over her back—somewhat awkwardly; I wasn’t used to riding on the backs of beasts—and slid to the ground. Isolfr followed after me, although he moved with significantly more grace.

  The moment we were off her back, the moon horse leaped into the air, soaring out over the ocean.

  “Sea and sky!” I shouted. I turned to Trystan. “Is this some kind of trick?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Trystan hissed. “She’s off to find Frida and Kolur. She’ll let them know where we are. Which,” he paused, craning his head down the beach, “will be down there. She said the water’s calmer and there’s a natural pier.”

  “A horse told you all this,” I said. I didn’t say what I was thinking: namely, my fear that Senra wouldn’t be able to find Frida and Kolur, that they were already dead.

  “No.” He scowled. “A moon horse. Will you please explain the difference to her, Isolfr?”

  Isolfr didn’t answer. I looked over at him, expectant, with my arms crossed over my chest. I’d come all this way and I wasn’t letting anyone keep secrets from me.

  “They’re creatures of magic,” Isolfr finally said, casting his eyes down. “And that means they can communicate in different ways—through thought, mostly. She’ll be able to show Frida and Kolur where we are.”

  “And that’s how I spoke to her,” Trystan added. He tapped his temple. “Through my mind.”

  I rolled my eyes. Trystan turned and marched across the beach. He kept his chin high despite his dungeon-filthy clothes and matted hair. With the wind blustering around him, he looked like a nobleman from one of the romantic stories Bryn always loved.

  “We ought to go with him,” Isolfr said. “We don’t want to be out in the open any longer than we have to.”

  “Do you think Foxfollow knows that we’re here?”

  It was the question we’d both been thinking, I knew that. But I wanted it out in the open. I wanted it acknowledged.

  Our feet crunched over the stones.

  “I don’t know,” Isolfr finally said. “If he doesn’t now, he will eventually.”

  Tall, pale seagrass poked out of the rocks. It rippled in the wind. I drew my hand over it as I passed, and I felt a jolt of magic—not Mists magic, but the earthy richness of dirt-magic. I pulled my hand away.

  Isolfr looked over at me and smiled. “You’re close to home,” he said.

  “And you are home.” I smiled back. He shimmered, rippling with the wind. “Are you nervous that you can’t disguise yourself?”

  Isolfr looked away. “A little. It would be nice to be Pjetur when I see them for the first time, just so they—they can see me change. But the only human form I can take is my own.”

  I reached over and grabbed his hand. “It’s my favorite of your human forms, you know.”

  Isolfr ducked his head, spots of color appearing on his cheek.

  I spotted Trystan a few paces ahead. The water was calmer here, the ocean gently lapping across the sandy soil, not crashing and rioting like it had been farther down. Trystan sat in a patch of seagrass, his arms draped over his knees. He stared out at the horizon. I could just make out the sun behind the clouds. It was a beautiful thing to see.

  “I can’t go back,” Trystan said suddenly.

  I didn’t know who he was speaking to. From the expression on Isolfr’s face, he didn’t either.

  “Um—I’m sorry?”

  Trystan pulled out a clump of seagrass and hurled it into the ocean, where it disappeared beneath the lapping waves. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “It’s that monster Lord Foxfollow’s. I can’t believe he ordered Gallowglass to make me suffer the indignities of the dungeon.”

  Lord Foxfollow had very nearly killed one of the only friends I had in Tulja. He had tried to kill me and Isolfr and Kolur and Frida on more than one occasion. He’d killed poor Gillean just for helping us. The dungeon had been the least of his crimes.

  “You think I’m being absurd,” Trystan said without looking at us.

  “No,” Isolfr said.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” He ripped another clump of seagrass out of the earth, only this time he let it slip through his fingers so that it showered across his lap. “It’s a matter of propriety. Of—reputation. I’ve been branded a criminal and a traitor.” He glared out at the horizon. “I can’t let him win again.”

  “He won’t,” Isolfr said. The certainty of his voice surprised me; it had a strength to it out here, as if it were suffused with magic. I hadn’t noticed before. “We’re going to stop him.” He looked over at me. “Hanna’s here.”

  “Right. Hanna. A little Sun Daughter.” Trystan snorted. “At least she’s back in her element.”

  I wanted to conjure up the south wind and slam its power into him, just to show him that I could. But then Isolfr spoke.

  “Don’t dismiss her,” he said. “You don’t want to remember this conversation when she’s about to save your life.”

  The wind gusted, cold and chill. It was blowing in from the north.

  I looked over at Isolfr and that was when I realized that the strength in Isolfr’s voice had the wind in it. The north wind. We had that strength, Isolfr’s strength. Trystan was right about me, even if I didn’t want to hear it—but he couldn’t fathom Isolfr.

  We waited for the return of the moon horse in strained silence. Isolfr and I sat away from Trystan, on the edge of the dark soil. He seemed to want to be left alone and I didn’t much want to talk to him, although as I thought about it, I realized I didn’t blame him for his anger. Lord Foxfollow had ruined his life once before, and now ruined it again—with no guarantee of vengeance.

  Isolfr and I didn’t talk much either. I was dull with fright, worried that the moon horse was taking so long because Frida and Kolur were dead. That Trystan and Isolfr and I would have to fight Lord Foxfollow on our own.

  Isolfr kept fading in and out with the wind. Sometimes I would look over and see him like always, solid and sure. Other times he would be transparent, or only parts of him would be visible—a spray of blonde hair, a pair of eyes. It would have startled me, but I had more pressing concerns, and anyway, I always felt him. Felt the presence of him, burning on
the wind. And that was all I needed.

  Sails appeared on the horizon.

  Isolfr solidified back into human form and stood up. The boat was only a dark speck next to those expansive sails. The Penelope II had sails like that, but my heart beat furiously, and I was afraid this was some kind of Foxfollow trick. Even when a shadow appeared in the sky, swooping like a bird but shaped like a horse, I still wasn’t convinced.

  “It’s them,” Isolfr said.

  I stood up beside him and watched the boat draw closer. The wind blew my hair away from my face; sea mist brushed over my skin. Strange, jagged figures stuck out of the side of the ship, Jolali-style. It had to be the Penelope II. But I didn’t allow myself to feel relief yet.

  The moon horse made land first, galloping along the shore toward Trystan. He stood up to greet her, and when she stopped beside him, he placed one hand on her forehead and stood still, his head leaning into her forehead. She flapped her wings. Trystan nodded.

  The moon horse flew away.

  “She’s not staying?” Isolfr asked.

  “She can’t take the risk,” Trystan said. “I don’t blame her. She wants to free her children from Lord Gallowglass’s stable.”

  I didn’t blame her either. If I could fly away, I would. But this was my world, and it was Isolfr’s world, and I knew we needed to protect it.

  The Penelope II sailed up alongside the rocks jutting haphazardly into the water and laid anchor. My fingers were tense with anxiety. It looked like the Penelope II but we couldn’t be sure, not yet—

  Kolur’s face appeared over the side of the railing.

  “Thank the ancestors,” I breathed. “It’s him.”

  Isolfr didn’t say anything. He slid behind me.

  “You made it through!” Kolur shouted. He was far enough away that I couldn’t read his expression—if he was happy, relieved, terrified of Isolfr’s true form. He waved at us, then gripped the railing and leaned forward. My heart jumped.

  “Who the hell is that?” he asked, gesturing at Trystan.

  Trystan gave a deep nobleman’s bow, sweeping one arm gracefully through the air. “I am Lord Trystan of Llambric,” he shouted over the wind. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “Who the hell is that?” Kolur shouted again, this time directing the question at me. Isolfr was still hanging back, behind me.

  “A friend,” I said. “He helped us arrive at Jandanvar, and he wants to see Lord Foxfollow dead.”

  “Don’t we all,” Kolur said in a grim, flat voice. He disappeared from the railing. I reached back and grabbed Isolfr’s hand.

  A few moments later, the gangway dropped.

  “Can that captain of yours be trusted?” Trystan said.

  “He can be trusted more than Lord Gallowglass.”

  Trystan looked over at me and his eyes glittered with a dark ferocity. I hadn’t seen it in him before, and it made me want to shrink back, to hide like Isolfr. “I’m not giving up until he’s been killed. He’ll bleed light in this world, yes? Make him bleed light.”

  I felt a dull thud in the bottom of my stomach. Of course we’d talked of killing Lord Foxfollow—of destroying him. But now that we were here in Jandanvar, I didn’t know if I could do it.

  “Your legs broken?” hollered Kolur over the side of the boat. “Get the hell on board. We can’t linger here! Ain’t safe!”

  I glanced over at Isolfr. He gazed back at me, his eyes lambent and sad.

  “We can’t put it off any longer,” he said in a whisper.

  “Now that’s the most sense I’ve heard in a while,” Trystan said, and he marched toward the gangplank with his back straight and his chin lifted.

  I reached over and took Isolfr’s hand. He gave me a grateful expression. He didn’t need to say anything more.

  Together, we walked on board.

  Frida was in her usual place by the navigation table. She was hunched over a paper map held down by rocks, tracing across it with a divider. Kolur was tugging up the anchor, a charm to lighten the load twinkling on the air around him. Neither of them looked up from their work.

  Trystan gazed up at the masts. At least his presence hadn’t activated the protection charms.

  Kolur glanced over at us. “Oh, thank the ancestors, you’re on—” The anchor rope slipped out of his hands. Even with the charm, the anchor slammed back into the sea, generating a wall of water that splashed against the side of the boat. Kolur cursed and jumped sideways, shaking his coat dry. Then he looked up again. Not at Trystan. He’d known Trystan was of the Mists. No, he was looking at Isolfr.

  For a moment, he didn’t move, just stared at Isolfr with his mouth hanging open.

  Then he reached into his coat and yanked out a knife.

  “What the hell is this?” he hissed. “Frida!” he shouted. “Your spell is a travesty to the ancestors! It let something through!”

  “It did not.” I stepped in front of Isolfr, my whole body shaking. Kolur brandished his knife at me. Behind him, Frida had lifted her gaze away from the map. She let out a shout and covered her mouth with one hand, then fumbled at her belt for a weapon.

  “This is Lord Foxfollow’s doing,” Kolur said. “How the hell did you get on my boat?”

  “We’re not from Lord Foxfollow.” Tears brimmed over the edge of my voice, but I didn’t let myself back down. “It’s Pjetur,” I said. “This is Pjetur’s real form. Do you even recognize him? You should.” I turned my glare at Frida. “You tried to cast dark magic using his brother. The only reason you didn’t kill him like you did that water spirit is because Pjetur stopped you.”

  Frida went pale. The knife she’d pulled from her belt dropped to the deck with a clatter.

  “You’re a trick too.” Kolur lunged at me, but Frida lifted both hands and a gust of wind, sweet-smelling and westerly, blasted across the boat. Kolur fell on his side. His own knife went flying across the deck, and the wind lifted it up and sent it sailing back to Frida. She plucked it out of the air and tucked it into her belt.

  “What the hell, Frida!” Kolur shouted.

  “You know who it is,” she said in a low voice. “You remember. Stop play-acting.”

  My hands were balled into fists, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I was aware of Isolfr’s closeness to me. I risked a quick glance back at him, and he was shaking, his arms wrapped around himself.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kolur grunted.

  “Don’t be a fool, Kolur. We don’t need this now.” Frida strode over to him and helped him to his feet. The wind had resettled, a soft breeze that rippled the sails. Kolur wouldn’t look at me.

  “He was scared of you,” I said, my voice ringing out clear and true. “All this time. He hid himself. He came to me and asked for my help because he didn’t trust you.”

  Frida lifted her head, peering at me through the wisps of her hair that had fallen out of her braid.

  “I know what you did,” I said.

  She looked away.

  For a moment, there was only silence, and the wind. I turned back to Isolfr. He was still curling into himself. The wind ruffled his hair. It was a south wind, I realized—I could almost taste the magic of it on the back of my throat. Isolfr looked up at me. His eyes gleamed.

  “She thinks you’re very brave,” he said in a low voice.

  I blinked, shook my head: I don’t understand.

  “My sister.” His hair danced across his forehead. “The south wind. She likes you.”

  I’d never thought of the south wind that way. I’d never considered her spirit, only her magic. And I smiled at the thought of it.

  “So have we got this sorted?”

  I jumped at Trystan’s voice. He was still lounging over by the railing, his coat flapping around his thighs. Kolur and Frida both turned toward him. Kolur looked pale. Shaken.

  “Are you going to let my friend on board the ship?” Trystan gestured at Isolfr. “Or aren’t you? I need to know, because we need him. He
’s got the magic to weaken Lord Foxfollow.” A pause. There was an eerie flatness in his expression. “So I can kill him.”

  “No,” Kolur said. “This is not settled.”

  Trystan sighed. “We don’t have time for this. Once he marries her, he’ll be bound to your world. You do realize that, right?”

  “I know that.” Kolur looked straight at Isolfr and me. I dropped back, grabbed Isolfr’s hand, squeezed it tight. “I know that better than anyone. In fact, if it were up to me, I would have killed the bastard already.”

  Trystan snorted. Frida sighed, rubbed her forehead.

  “I’m sorry, Pjetur,” Kolur said. Then he closed his eyes. “I mean, spirit of the wind. Which wind are you?” His eyes opened again.

  Isolfr squeezed his hand against mine, and I tried to will him all of my strength.

  “The north,” Isolfr said. “My family calls me Isolfr.”

  His family. I felt a cold stun in the center of my heart. Surely it wasn’t his true name, his spirit name, the name by which he could be controlled, but it was the name his family called him. All this time, even after the kiss, the worry in the dungeon and the tunnels—I’d thought Isolfr was a false name, a name spirits tell to humans.

  “Very well, Isolfr.” Kolur bowed. “I don’t ask your forgiveness for what we did. But we need your help.”

  “I know,” Isolfr said. “That’s why I found you.”

  • • •

  We sailed for a long time, long enough that darkness fell. It was a relief to see the stars again, to watch them wink on one by one in their familiar constellations. I sat out on deck with Isolfr, a thick woolen blanket wrapped around my shoulders. We tilted both our heads back and I told him the stories of the sky: of Brynjar and Galdur and even Rakel and Oddur, who were lovers. Telling the story made me blush, but I made it through. When I finished he smiled up at the sky and said, “That was a wonderful story, Hanna.”

  Hearing him say my name gave me a shiver of happiness. That was the only sort of happiness I allowed myself: the small kind, my name on Isolfr’s tongue and the stars twinkling overhead. Because Lord Foxfollow still held sway here, and I knew we were sailing into battle.