Soul Seeker

4: The Proposition

Ciara was drifting through the Yawning Void: Ginnungagap, the chasm which had existed before the earth had been born. It was bordered on one side by the ice world, Niflheim, and the fire realm, Muspelheim, and it was said that the great emptiness was the only thing that could contain the raw powers of fire and ice.

But if she was in the Void – dead, of course, as it was the final resting place of all souls – then why did her head hurt so much?

"Try not to move," Darius said.

Ciara tried to sit upright at the sound of his voice and groaned.

"Do you ever listen to anything I say?" He sounded exasperated, but his dulcet tones were as calm as ever.

"No, I try not to," she mumbled. Her eyes were like lead weights, unable to open. "How much did I drink last night?"

"Please tell me you remember what happened. The sled race."

"Yeah, I remember. It was a joke."

"Ah."

"Should've known better than to try making a joke in front of you." She rubbed her eyes – even her arms were too heavy – and was able to open them a crack. Light blinded her, so she shut them again. "You don't understand sarcasm."

"I understand sarcasm perfectly, I just don't care for your particular brand of it."

"Ha, ha. Ouch."

"You're lucky the sled only caught you in passing and didn't hit you head-on."

"Head-on? You can't use phrases like that, it's too soon. Don't be cruel."

"You know I didn't mean it like that. How are you feeling?" he asked, and she felt the pallet she was laid upon depress as he sat on the end.

"I feel amazing. I might go for a run, maybe do some tree climbing, wrestle a deer if I see one–"

Darius pulled her eyelids back and inspected her eyes.

"Hey!"

"Just checking for a pupil response. Everything seems to be in working order."

"What, my jokes really worry you that much?"

"I'd rather not say. I don't want to offend you."

Ciara realised she lay in the main hall of Darius's house. He occupied the Sanctuary, a wooden building devoted to the faith of the guardians, situated on the hill overlooking Nome. Rafters soared into an arch above their heads and light filtered in through lattice panels depicting interwoven animals running in pairs.

"Cali just left. She stayed with you the whole time, even when I told her I was sure you'd be all right," Darius said. He was close to forty, tall and pale as an unlit candle, with neat collarbone-length hair so flaxen it was almost white. His cheekbones were knives, and his lips and chin could have been chiselled from ice.

Right now, lines of worry creased his forehead which she rarely saw.

"Are you all right? You were sledding so recklessly today, it's not like you."

"Sven's husky attacked my dogs!" How could he think the accident was her fault? It had been anything but.

"Yes, but even so, you don't lose control easily. I saw the look on your face when you arrived at the starting line."

"I didn't see you in the crowd."

"I was on my way down the hill – late, same as you."

"What, the great Darius Ahlstrom, late? Am I rubbing off on you?"