Giants of the Frost by Kim Wilkins Read Free Book Online

my cabin window, looking into the forest. Confused, I turned to the window, only to see my own blond hair spread across the pillow inside, my own body breathing deep and low under the covers. My heart jumped into my throat and bright fear hissed along my veins. I turned back to the trees. The wind was harsh in the treetops, bending them and making them groan in their hard, flat voices. Overhead, a quarter moon pierced the dark. Slivers of streaming cloud made the light from the moon flutter and dim. I was cold and afraid. Branches stood out like bony fingers against the moon-washed sky. A skittering noise emerged from among the dark trees. I turned to prise open the window to my cabin and climb back into my body, but my fingers skidded over the painted sill as though I were made of vapor.
    "Victoria."
    I didn't want to turn and see who was talking to me in that rasping, childlike voice. "Victoria, I'm only trying to help."
    I shot a glance over my shoulder and yelped. The twig creature. He was dressed in rags, his hair stood up above his pointed face, pale and rough like a collection of old birch twigs. He reached out a hand to me and his fingers appeared long and sharp in the sickly moonlight. He stood only a few feet from me, wary, swaying rhythmically.
    "I'm sorry to come into your dream," he said, "but I want to help you."
    "What are you?"
    "My name is Skripi. I'm a wight, sent from Asgard. I know my appearance frightens you, but I have a kind heart. You must be careful. The others on the island don't have kind hearts."
    "The others?"
    "The draugr, the hag." He took a step toward me and I screamed, turned back to the window and hammered on the pane. This time there was a sound.
    An instant later I woke up in my bed, whole. A thumping had roused me. I sat up with a start and my eyes flicked to the window. Was that a glimpse of my ghostlike self? Or just a shadow cast by a branch in the moonlight?
    I breathed, letting my body relax. It had simply been a nightmare. And what a nightmare. My pajamas were damp with sweat. I tried to settle under the covers once more, but the moist patch under my back grew cold and uncomfortable. I got out of bed and turned on a light, chasing shadows away. My sheets, on close inspection, were soaked. I quickly stripped off my pajamas and put on dry ones, and pulled the sheets off the bed. How could I have sweated so much on a cold night? Outside, shivery blue light fluttered in the trees, and a chill ran over me. I wrapped myself up in my bedspread and went to the lounge room, turned on the heater and lay down on the sofa.
    I dozed, I didn't sleep: too afraid of nightmares. When the first smudges of dawn crept into the sky, I rose and pulled on my anorak, and headed for Gunnar's cabin.
    The book on mythology lay where I had left it. I looked up "Skripi" but didn't find it. Relief. Just a nonsense word that my brain had conjured. I moved to set the book down, glimpsing another one in the pile. A dictionary of Old Norse. My hand picked it up, even though my brain advised otherwise. I flicked through, singing the alphabet song in my head …Q, R, S—
    Skripi. It was there. An Old Norse word meaning "phantom" or "horror." I had never heard a word of Old Norse in my life, I knew that. I also knew I would find a rationalization, but it was too far from my reach as I prepared myself for a week of solitude. I didn't like lurking in this uncertain space of superstition; it made me feel as though I were falling through clouds. Later that day, as the Jonsok cruised out of Hvítahofud Fjord, I thought about how fervently I had pressed Magnus for this opportunity to be alone.
    The forest behind me beckoned like a dim memory of something unpleasant, and being alone on Othinsey didn't seem such a good idea at all.

Chapter Four
    [Asgard]

    As the trees grew closer and the open spaces of Gammaldal disappeared behind him, Vidar realized he was being followed.
    At first he had thought it just the sounds of birds