The Earth Shaker

We made our way to Raven Ridge, a ridgeline where a river had carved its way through the old stone. Watchmen were set up along it, granting views to the mountainous and harsh lands behind the village. There was a small cave, though, that led down to the river, where there were small stones that you could balance on to cross the river, but the hard part was getting to the caverns.

Mostly due to the watchmen that were positioned just outside, as it was the only way to get through the ridge. The only one over here. There was also a large fallen tree, but part of it had rotted over time and was quite dangerous to try to use.

Now, Ylva and I, sat crouched behind a rock outcropping, watching the figure below, about twenty feet from the entrance. He was sitting on a tree stump, and in the early morning light, it seemed he was carving something out of wood with a small knife.

He had blond hair, cut short. Carved into the leather bracers was the symbol of the northern gates.

“Why is your brother always here?” Ylva whispers, “Don’t they swap shifts?”

I shrug my shoulders before looking back down. It was, in fact, my brother. This made it a bit easier, as I knew how he acted, but also much harder, because he knew how I acted. I knew the tilt of his head, the pause of his hands, was all him listening… listening for any sounds that shouldn’t be there. For the raven’s calling in the distance. For the sudden silence of crickets in the grass. He was very observant. It’s likely why he made such a good watchman. “We could bribe him?” I suggest, nodding my head to the cloth that held dried apple slices.

Ylva glances at the cloth before sighing. “And if that doesn’t work?” She asks, looking back at me.

“Then we run past him,” I say with a shrug, “It’ll work. He’d do anything for food. He’s like Bjorn,” I say, petting the north hound that was sitting politely next to Ylva. I grab the cloth and carefully climb down from the rock outcropping towards Eirik.

“Go home, Solveig,” Eirik says, “You too, Ylva. You’re father’s not gonna be pleased to hear you wandered past the ridge again.” He looks up when we’re closer, setting the knife down on the stump as he looks at us. “Really? Bribes?”

“We just want to go over for twenty minutes and get a deer or elk or something,” I say, “Please? We haven’t gone hunting in weeks!”

“It’s gotta be a record at this point,” Ylva says, leaning on my shoulder now and nodding, “Please? We’ll be quick. If you squint, you won’t even see us!”

Eirik sighs, looking between us both before nodding, “Fine. Twenty minutes. Then you get back. I’m not getting outcasted because you two can’t sit still.” He says, gesturing for the entrance of the caverns. “And if you are out longer than twenty minutes, I’m telling Lars you two knocked me out and made a run for it. Dramatically.” He says, gesturing over his shoulder.

“We won’t!” We both say as we quickly run towards the entrance.

_

Just getting through the cavern took about five minutes. Now, Ylva was splashing frigid water across her brown fur boots as she balanced rock to rock. “You know, we’re probably not going to catch anything if it takes ten minutes to get through the caverns,” Ylva says, nearly slipping on a particularly slippery stone. A sword hung at her hip, holstered in the intricate

“Yeah, I hadn’t really thought about that earlier,” I say, scratching the back of my head. I step onto the first large stone and peer into the water. Near this area, it wasn’t particularly deep. I could see my reflection in the morning sunlight. Snowy blond hair, with small intricate braids throughout. No freckles, no scars. Dark brown eyes. The wolf pelt Ylva had gifted me when we were younger is pulled over my shoulders, the wolf’s head pulled over my head. Grey fur, with bits of brown on the ears, and white on its snout. It was our first hunt together. She still has the antlers from the elk she’d gotten. She hung them over her bed.

“It’s alright, it’s still…” Ylva drifts off, and that catches my attention. Ylva rarely drifts off. She always has something to say.

Looking up, I saw Ylva, standing on the last stone, just a step away from the opposite side of the shore, her one hand resting on the hilt of the sword, and she was looking up at something. Following her gaze, I realized what she was looking at.

Perfectly camouflaged with the jagged grey and black stone was a dragon. Larger than the largest long ship, with claws and teeth sharper than the sharpest blade. Eyes the color of lightning were staring down at us.

“Ylva,” I whisper, freezing, as its tail is blocking the cavern. The only way we would make it out would be through the cavern behind us. I look at Ylva and watch as her hand grasps the hilt of her sword. “Ylva, don’t. Just… Just step back a little—” I grab an arrow that hangs at my hip—one of twelve—and bring it to the bow.

Ylva didn’t step back initially, though. She still firmly gripped the hilt of her sword, still stood there, balanced on a large stone as river water ran through her boots. It was like she was torn— run, or continue the hunt.

And I don’t think this was a hunt we would easily make it out of.

“Ylva,” I whisper, “I know what you’re thinking, and you need to stop thinking it and very, very, slowly follow—” I’m cut off by the sharp sound of her sword leaving it’s sheath, and I look back at the dragon.

It seems to hear the sound as well, and promptly lets out a low, guttural growl as it climbs down from the rock wall.

“Ylva,” I whisper, “Please, don’t—” I swear under my breath when she lunges towards it with her sword.

_

“Ylva!” I yell as I duck beneath the dragon’s large tail, pulling the bowstring back and letting the arrow go, landing right beneath the dragon’s jaw, on its neck. It lets out a loud sound of pain before stepping in the river, sending frigid water everywhere.

I grasp Ylva’s free hand and pull her towards the river. It’s halfway across that when she yanks her hand free. “What’re you doing?!” I yell as I look at her.

“We can’t just see a dragon and not kill it!” Ylva yells.

“Yes, we can!” I say, putting another arrow in the bowstring as the dragon finally recovers.

“Not as the chief’s daughter!” Ylva yells.

We both stumble as we avoid the dragon’s large foot. “Ylva, you’re gonna end up killing yourself over— over a stupid expectation!” I yell as I shoot the arrow, and thankfully, it hits the target, landing right in the dragon’s paw. The dragon promptly rears back, and a claw tears over my face, sending a searing pain through the side of my face as I’m pushed backwards.

Then it all goes dark.

_

There was a dull ringing in my ears. Faint. Echoing. It made the echo of river water sound faint, a background sound, distant.

A hot line of burning pain traces over the side of my face, and the world spins when I sit up slightly. I bring a hand to the cut, and wince when the pain sharpens.

“Ylva?” I say through gritted teeth as I force myself to stand. I lean on the jagged wall as the world doubles.

There’s no answer.

I look up around me. I’m standing just inside the cavern now, and outside… there’s nothing. No dragon. No blood.

No Ylva.

“Ylva?!” I say, stepping out now. Still, there’s nothing. Just the early morning sky, with little to no clouds, and jagged cliff walls. My bow and arrow are lying on the floor. There’s a snapped arrow on the other side of the bank.

There are footsteps behind me, followed very quickly by a voice I recognize— “Solveig!”

Eirik is standing in front of me now, hands checking the cut on my head, my shoulders, arms, everywhere. Eyes wide with worry. “Saints, your head. What were you thinking?!” He says, his hands now firm on my shoulders.

“Where’s Ylva?” I say, not looking at him, but around both of us. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. No sword abandoned. No blood on the ground.

There wasn’t even a trail to try to follow.

“Ylva?” Eirik says, his frown deepening. He glances around before looking back at me, this time with a silent look in his eyes. Something akin to sorrow. “You’re bleeding pretty bad, Solveig, let’s get you—”

“Not without Ylva,” I say, pushing myself away from Eirik and attempting to step away, but I can feel how badly I’m shaking, the searing pain in my head that echoes the fast rhythm of my heart.

“Solveig,” Eirik says, stepping in front of me again, keeping me still by the shoulders. “Ylva’s gone. Okay, she’s gone.”

I shake my head. But glancing around the empty ridge only reminded me just how painfully true it was.