Sacrifice (The Snow Queen #2)(17)

“It won’t matter because Phile is right. We’re going to destroy it,” Rakel said. She slid off Frigid’s back and patted him.

“Let’s just bring Crow,” Phile said. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about—and with my sterling character, I am a perfect judge.”

“Where did you get your dagger again?” Frodi—who held a tiny ball of flames in his hands to keep warm—asked cheekily.

“Foedus appeared to me in a dream and said he would come only to those who are judged worthy,” Phile said.

Crow frowned. “Last night you said you found it in an empty tomb.”

“Quite right,” Phile said.

“We could blindfold him,” General Halvor supposed.

“I could tie him to a cliff,” Eydìs offered.

“Enough,” Rakel said. “We’re wasting time. I want to find that mirror and destroy it.”

General Halvor and Oskar bowed. “Yes, Princess.”

The animals were untacked, a base camp was established, and then the group finally followed Snorri into the narrow path. Several times the path grew so tight, tall Oskar and burly Halvor—among others—had a hard time slipping through.

“Ow—what are you battering me with? That ugly dagger of yours?” Crow cawed as Phile used a foot to push against him, trying to force him through one of the narrow spots.

Oskar grunted. “She would not have to push if you didn’t wear enough padding to be mistaken for a snow bear.” He yanked on the mercenary by the lapels of his outermost jacket.

“I have a bit of sympathy. It’s colder than a king’s soul here.” Phile grunted as she applied her shoulder to Crow’s lower back.

Rakel tugged on her white braid. “I’ve been raising the temperature.”

“Believe me, Princess, we’re all thankful,” Oskar said. “Suck it in, pigeon!”

“The name is Crow.”

Phile, Oskar, and Crow yelped and tumbled to the ground when the mercenary popped out of the tight pass.

Oskar staggered to his feet. “I’m getting too old for this.”

Crow almost knocked into Snorri who, instead of continuing down the uncomfortable pass, stared at one of the cliff walls.

“What is it, Snorri?” General Halvor asked.

“It’s inside,” Snorri said.

Phile stood up and panted. “The mirror?”

“Yes.”

“It’s inside the cliff?”

“Yes.”

Phile squinted up at the sky—which was gray, misty, and seemed almost close enough to touch. “There must be a way in.”

Oskar peered down the tight path. “Perhaps if we forge ahead.”

“It’s impassable,” Frodi called from the front of the line.

“What if the opening is above?” Eydìs asked.

“You mean the top of the mountain?” Phile asked.

“It’s a possibility,” General Halvor said.

Rakel placed her hand on the rocky slope, feeling the depth and thickness of the ice and snow packed into the mountain. “It’s here,” she said.

“How do you know?” Crow asked, eyeing her with interest.

Rakel shoved her arm into the snow. The drift blew apart, as if a strong wind disturbed it, and revealed a small opening that was partially covered by rocks.

Phile plucked a rock off the top. “Nice work, Little Wolf.”

In a few short moments, the opening was cleared. Oskar had to duck to enter, and Rakel nearly scraped her head, but everyone else was able to enter undeterred. (Everyone but Crow, that was. His layers of clothing meant Phile had to yank him inside like a mother cat dragging a fat kitten.)

Frodi went first with balls of fire bobbing around his head, illuminating the area.

The cave was a shallow, but dark, one-room chamber. The wind howled eerily as it blew across the opening, and it smelled of dirt and stifling, old air.

“There.” Snorri pointed to the back of the chamber.

Set against the far wall was a large mirror as tall as Oskar. It had an ornate gold frame molded into swirls and tiny flowers, and at the top of the frame was a giant, blood red ruby. Several shards were missing from the mirror’s lower right corner, revealing the gold backing. Normally one would call it beautiful, but it radiated an absolute coldness that was so chilling, Rakel’s lungs ached, and her breath froze in the air. Though it was a solid object, Rakel could have sworn she saw ripples stir on the surface and heard hissing whispers echo in the chamber.

The mirror was ancient, and it was evil.

“Destroy it,” Rakel said.

“Are you certain it can’t be used?” Eydìs asked.

Frodi didn’t wait for a response. He engulfed the thing in flames, turning up the heat until tears stung Rakel’s eyes, and she couldn’t look at it.

“Don’t burn yourself out, idiot!” Eydìs yanked Frodi away and shoved a piece of jerky in his mouth. “If you put yourself in a stupor, we’re all in trouble.”

“I can’t do it,” Frodi panted. “Someone else will have to.”

General Halvor lifted his pick axe and smashed it into the mirror. The pickaxe glanced off the mirror, leaving not even a scratch, and Halvor was thrown to the ground. The chamber shook with the power of the recoil.