Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  Dyrfinna bit off a curse. Stupid.

  “Those pansies are from Skala,” one of Nauma’s soldiers said.

  Nauma circled Dyrfinna. “Skala, huh? You have a sister to protect? How old is she? You know we are the child-killers.”

  Dyrfinna went shaky. “You are going to leave my sister alone.”

  Nauma struck through Dyrfinna’s defenses again, this time getting a hard hit in on her other arm. “You’re getting tired,” she sneered. “You can’t hold us off forever. There are too many of us, too few of you.”

  Each taunt was accompanied by a hard swipe of her sword. Dyrfinna weakly parried, saying, “No, no, no.”

  Nauma laughed and shoved her.

  But Dyrfinna was not really weakening. She was drawing Nauma back, making her overconfident. Her parries were weak, but no more of Nauma’s strikes hit her. She stepped back, watching for her opening .…

  And then she saw it, as Nauma shoved her back with her shield.

  Swift as a striking snake, Dyrfinna levered her shield under Nauma’s and forced it up. Into the gap her sword leapt, stabbing straight through Nauma’s leg.

  She yanked her sword free and held her bloody sword high so all could see it, waving it in the air while she circled Nauma, keeping her shield at the ready, her eyes never leaving hers.

  An outraged shout went up from Nauma’s army. The brutal wound kept Nauma too shocked to put up a good defense. She grunted and slashed at Dyrfinna with her sword, her movements jerky and desperate

  Dyrfinna pushed Nauma’s sword out of the way with her shield and slammed her sword’s point against Nauma’s ribs. Her sword couldn’t pierce the chain link, but Dyrfinna knew from experience that this kind of hit would leave Nauma with a huge, painful bruise for weeks. She prayed that she’d broken a rib.

  Nauma gasped and pulled back, her shield arm pressed close against her ribs. Her teeth showed in hatred. She leapt forward, slicing at Dyrfinna, but now, due to her pain, she no longer pushed any power behind her strikes.

  Dyrfinna stopped Nauma’s sword on hers, forcing it back. She pushed her shield against Nauma’s, holding it in place so she couldn’t rip it away.

  Now with Nauma immobilized, Dyrfinna leaned in, fury in her eyes. “Guess what? My sister is older than me. She’s no longer a child, but a married woman. I tricked you, you monster, you fool. But you will not hurt the little ones any more. I don’t care how many soldiers you have. We are few but we are going to utterly vanquish you.”

  Dyrfinna’s sword ripped down the side of Nauma’s sword and cut Nauma’s face, a hard slice on the cheek.

  “There’s my kiss,” Dyrfinna screamed, “and I’m going to kill you.” And she leaned in, her sword working with a mighty will. Dyrfinna didn’t see Nauma, no, but instead she saw the wolf that tried to kill her and her sister. And the red came down and she raised her shield and struck past Nauma’s shield, thrusting her head back, and her sword cut and cut. Her neck was exposed. Dyrfinna thrust back Nauma’s parry and .…

  Suddenly from the heavens there came a thundering roar.

  Dyrfinna’s killing thrust went wide.

  Cheering went up from Nauma’s forces all around.

  Because the king’s black dragon came swooping in, jaws open, claws out, directly at Dyrfinna.

  Oh Freyja. Dyrfinna pulled her shield and sword into a defensive stance and swallowed.

  Jam the shield right between its teeth, she thought, preparing herself. Then jab your sword into the roof of its mouth. Pray it doesn’t breathe fire.

  From out of nowhere, a red dragon suddenly plowed into the black dragon’s side, sending it tumbling through the air, its rider holding on for dear life.

  For a dizzying moment Dyrfinna couldn’t understand what had happened.

  And then she could.

  “The queen’s dragon!” she shrieked. “She’s found us! We’re saved!”

  The queen’s dragon flew hard after the king’s black dragon as it tried to regain its balance before it fell out of the sky. They screeched and clawed through the air, the red dragon shooting fire that passed right over the heads of Nauma’s troops.

  Nauma scrambled back, her eyes wide. “To the ships! To the ships!”

  The king’s dragon struggled to gain altitude, wings flapping madly, but it spit out a world of fire.

  The queen’s red dragon met it with its own fire and gave chase.

  All of Nauma’s fighters jumped to their feet, running every which way.

  With a shriek, Dyrfinna pursued Nauma into the maddened crowd, her sword raised. “Get back here! You coward, the battle is not finished!”

  Skeggi grabbed her. “Get back! Get back!”

  “Get back to safety before some rogue fighter decides to kill you!” Hakr cried.

  Both men started dragging Dyrfinna up the hill.

  “No!” Dyrfinna tried to pull free. “I nearly had her!”

  “And now you’ve lost her,” Hakr said. “But we’ve won, we’ve won the day.”

  The dragons, locked in combat, rose above the armies, wings laboring, clawing at each other and unleashing fire. The dragons broke apart, glided away as they fell, then wheeled around and hurled through the air at each other as if jousting.

  But the queen’s dragon shot past the black dragon and dropped fire on one of Nauma’s ships.

  Nauma’s Vikings who had made it aboard screamed, all aflame, and leapt overboard in agony. The ship went up with a roar, took on water, and started to sink.

  Nauma’s other boats pushed off, but the queen’s dragon blasted fire on another one. More screams and cries as crewmen jumped overboard.

  Dyrfinna pulled away from Skeggi and, from low behind her shield, she scanned the crowd of running Vikings for the blood-red kirtle that Nauma was wearing. Though she was panting, she shut her mouth and hummed a quiet series of notes to help sharpen her vision, using a bit of the song Gefjun used to help her weak eyes see.

  The chaos sprang into sharp focus, overwhelming her senses with a thousand details.

  But she spotted Nauma running with her henchman far down the mountain, running into a low forest toward King Varinn’s keep.

  “Come on!” Dyrfinna cried. “I want her blood.”

  And she plunged down the hill, sword out, racing into Nauma’s troops.

  Skeggi grabbed her again. “No! To the top, now!”

  But there was a strange note in his voice that surprised her. She stopped. He held her arm, but his eyes were fixed on the red dragon as she came flying in low, like a dart, at the black dragon.

  And there was great joy on his face, like a man who was looking upon heaven for the first time.

  Confused, but unable to tear her eyes from that joy on his face and how beautiful it made him, she took one last look at Nauma’s vanishing kirtle.

  And in that instant she saw a sight that took her breath away.

  Queen Saehildr’s fleet came flying in toward the shore.

  Seeing the dragons on their helms, those familiar ships from home, made her heart bound.

  The queen’s fleet had arrived! Reinforcements were here!

  They were saved!

  Hakr shouted in exultation from next to her. “Oh, this does an old man’s heart good!” He thrust his sword into the air and shouted as the queen’s ships flew into the shore like birds, never slowing. The waves flung the ships halfway up the sand before grounding them very neatly high up on the beach.

  A great cheer rose up from Dyrfinna’s forces at the top of the mountain. Dyrfinna nearly cried, listening to that glorious sound.

  The queen’s fighters climbed over the sides of the ships, swords in hands, grabbing their shields. They gathered around the bows of their ships, cheering and shouting and blowing horns to their comrades at the top of the mountain.

  Dyrfinna thought this was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen, besides Skeggi looking up at the red dragon, eyes wide.

  “Come on, commander!” Hakr cried, grasping her
arm. “I could feast my eyes on this marvelous sight all day, but at the top of the mountain is where you need to be. Come, join your happy troops! And we shall give our queen’s warriors the warm welcome they deserve.”

  As Dyrfinna clambered over the rocks, Hakr raised her arm as if she were a boxer that had won a great match, and her fighters greeted her with a loud cheer, which was answered, far below, by the queen’s forces. Dyrfinna smiled, but said, “This victory was only due to your good counsel, my friend.”

  Tired men and tired women were congratulating each other, and saying “My gosh, I’m so hungry, so tired.” Some simply went to find a quiet, out of the way spot, and lay down, wrapping themselves in their cloaks, and fell asleep.

  But from the pile of bodies at the hard-fought wall, voices cried out, people who had been left in the carnage. People from Dyrfinna’s crew began reaching into the pile of bodies, trying to find out who was dead, who was alive.

  Dyrfinna was exhausted. But now that she was safe, now that her people were safe, her anger at Nauma boiled over. She had escaped!

  Dyrfinna leaned on a nearby rock and breathed deeply, quashing her fury, rubbing her eyes with a bloody hand, before she looked around for the next thing she had to do. Though the queen’s forces fought their way up the hill, beating the remainder of Nauma’s forces into submission, she still had many people to take care of—her command. She dreaded finding out exactly how many of her warriors had died, how many were gravely wounded. These were her losses, nobody else’s. She alone was responsible for their deaths, glorious and honorable as they were.

  She took her helmet off, sending a prayer of gratitude to Freyja for the lives of the crew she’d been gifted.

  When she opened her eyes, she spotted Skeggi standing at the top of the rocks across from her, watching the dragons intently. The red dragon was right on the black dragon’s tail, chasing it down with great blasts of flame that Dyrfinna could feel, even at this distance. It amazed her how these dragonriders could stand the intense heat. When this is done, she thought, the red dragon rider will come here and maybe we can find out what is going on.

  She cleaned her sword and sheathed it, then tucked her helmet under her arm as the roar of battle came up the hill. She smiled as she stood once again. Warriors from the Queen’s forces broke over the wall, and her forces cheered and surrounded them, slapping their backs and embracing.

  Dyrfinna quickly stepped forward. “We welcome you here,” she called. “We give many thanks to Odin this day that you have arrived. But, quickly, we must have healers, medics, anybody who can help our wounded. We have one woman doing all the work on her own. She needs help. Bring supplies for the wounded, as well.”

  The soldiers bowed. Several ran back down the hill, shouting for medics, healers.

  Dyrfinna went to the wounded. She found Gefjun sitting with Ragnarok’s head in her lap. “There’s nothing I can do for him,” Gefjun said, exhausted. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

  Dyrfinna saw the red stain through his clothes, and knelt. “Healers are on their way.” She took Gefjun’s bloody hands in hers. “The queen’s forces have arrived. You can stop now. You can finally rest.”

  “I shouldn’t rest.” Gefjun’s voice trembled with exhaustion. “The wounded need me. I’ve had three die on me this morning. I couldn’t save them.”

  “Help is here,” Dyrfinna said as the first woman ran up, followed by two men.

  “We can help you,” said a very short woman in leather armor, kneeling down by Ragnarok. She laid a hand on his forehead, opened his eyelid and peered in his eye, then started pulling away his armor to reveal the wound—a slice from a sword, nothing more. The healer began singing over that as she cleaned it up.

  One of the men came over to Gefjun.

  “This is our healer,” Dyrfinna said. “She’s worked day and night with the wounded, and has scarcely had any sleep.”

  “I don’t need sleep—yet,” Gefjun snapped, getting up. “But,” she said, relenting a little, “once I show you everything that’s happening here, I … I might take a little nap.”

  With a deep breath, she led the healers toward the rest of the wounded.

  Dyrfinna followed while Gefjun guided the healers about her small camp. Once the healers started their work, she found there was nothing more she needed to do. Sinking slowly to a flat spot of ground, Gefjun lay on her side and shut her eyes. Dyrfinna took off her sea cloak and lay it over Gefjun, who curled up in it and started making a little buzzy snore.

  “I’m sorry I took that extra strength from you earlier,” she whispered to her friend.

  Gefjun’s snoring stopped. Her eye opened a slit.

  “I knew you took it,” she said. “Damn you.”

  Her eye shut again.

  Dyrfinna grinned. She was tired, but she still grinned.

  Then voices cried out in victory all around her. “The black dragon is gone!”

  The queen’s forces came in. “You held off ten boatloads of those child-killers with one small crew!” they were saying, and everywhere were fist bumps and chest bumps, and Vikings sharing provisions with their friends. How many days had it been since they’d left Skala all together? It seemed like an eternity.

  The red dragon came in for a landing on the clearing outside of the fortifications. Skeggi clambered over the rocks, running to meet the dragon, shouting, “Down here! Down here!”

  The red dragon glided over the defenses, wings trembling against the force of the wind, long tail curving behind her. She hung in the wind for a moment, slowly coming down on two feet, and landed, folding her wings.

  Skeggi ran at the dragon. Dyrfinna cried out, “No! What are you doing?” No one ran at a dragon that had just landed. He was going to get himself burned to a crisp!

  But then, the rider slid off the dragon. And he grabbed her up in her arms, and he spun her around. And she cried, laughing, “Skeggi! Skeggi!”

  Dyrfinna knew that voice. She laughed, too, in amazement.

  The dragonrider said, “Put me down, you big galoot!” and he did, and she tore off her helmet and threw it aside, a cascade of red hair billowing out.

  Rjupa. His long-lost ladylove.

  Skeggi and Rjupa shared such a long kiss that everybody started hooting, but they didn’t stop.

  Then the dragon, who was watching with an inscrutable look, gently unfolded a wing to bump the two lovebirds off their feet.

  They stumbled, and everybody laughed, and Skeggi had tears all over his face, and Rjupa wiped them off with her thumb, saying, “Now, now, honeybee, I’m back,” and they embraced again.

  “How did she become a dragonrider?” Dyrfinna exclaimed in joy and disbelief. If it was possible for Rjupa, it was possible for her!

  Just then the commander of the Queen’s forces, Sinkr, came swanning in. “I’m in charge now,” he said, looking around as if he owned the place.

  Dyrfinna noticed that, while she was out trying to rescue her crew against ten boatloads of child-killers, he’d gotten about half a million fancy braids put into his beard. That kind of braid-work took hours upon hours. Nice to know that he’d had a little leisure time out there.

  “Nauma has escaped,” she said. “Now that the field is secure, I need a group of strong fighters to pursue her before she gets entirely away.”

  Sinkr looked down his nose at her. “You let Nauma get away? Why did you do that?”

  All voices went utterly silent.

  Hakr pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Because I told her to,” said the stout sea-captain. “She had just fought Nauma in single combat and was about to drive home the killing stroke when the red and black dragons joined in battle overhead. She wanted to pursue the enemy, I’ll have you know, but we were completely surrounded by Nauma’s troops and we had to run to safety. Now she has backup, and now we can pursue her.”

  “I need a force,” Dyrfinna said, “and we need to hurry.”

  Sinkr waved her away like a gnat, wrink
ling his lip. “You’ve entirely lost your chance,” he scoffed. “She’s long gone.”

  “She’s on foot,” Dyrfinna said, and followed that with a short hum, deep in her throat, to infuse her words with conviction.

  “No!” But Sinkr sang his response, a powerful note sung at the exact pitch to set her hum into discord and break its power.

  Dyrfinna stepped back with an involuntary gasp, her hand going to her throat, shocked. What had happened? How did he know?

  Sinkr sneered. “I saw what you were doing. You’re so transparent.”

  Dyrfinna felt her face flush.

  “Your request is denied,” he snapped. “You’ve done enough damage to the queen’s fleet and to her mission. You fled the enemy from the fight on the sea, and then you fled them again when you could have ended this whole conflict at one stroke. You’ve killed thirty-five of your own fighters because you didn’t have enough sense to stay on the water the way you were supposed to.”

  “The dead count was nineteen, not thirty-five,” she said through clenched teeth, feeling as if lava were coming out of her ears. “The full casualty list, which includes both dead and wounded, is forty-five. I did everything I possibly could to protect my fighters. Everything I did was to give them a place where they could defend themselves against—”

  He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Enough. Your conduct is unfitting for a good soldier. Dyrfinna, you are relieved of duty.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?” she cried in disbelief. “Relieved?”

  The spectators burst out with furious talk.

  “You’re throwing her out of the army?”

  “I’m not throwing her out of the army,” Sinkr said scornfully.

  “Well, that’s what it means when you relieve somebody of duty,” one of the women said. Then after a long pause, she added, “Sir.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. I mean she’s relieved of command.”

  Dyrfinna cried, “Relieved of command? For what?” An even greater uproar erupted around her. “You’re stripping me of my rank? Why?”

  “How can you do that? She defended us,” Ragnarok rumbled dangerously, looming over Sinkr.

  Dyrfinna, her heart pounding, slowly shook her head, furious.