The Viking Maiden Box Set

by Kelly N. Jane

  She slid around the trunk in time, and only her skirt caught on fire, which she patted out with ease.

  Shooting past her like an arrow from new string, the dragon flew over Ingrid and turned to come at her from another angle. Flames scorched what remained of the living brush, leaving a desolate landscape.

  Ingrid had to find cover; she knew she couldn’t hide behind the ash any longer. Not more than twenty feet away, a pile of rocks hid the opening to a small hole.

  A flash of light mixed with blistering heat shot out toward her. Diving to the side, she escaped the main blast, but screamed when her shoulder and upper arm bubbled and burned. Falling to her knees and grabbing at her arm, she cried out again.

  Swooping down, the creature reached out its merciless talons, missing her body as it sailed over, but slicing into the forearm she’d raised to block her face. Before the dragon could turn around and try again, Ingrid darted as fast as her legs could go, diving headfirst between the rocks.

  There was just enough space for her small shoulders to make it through, and then she was in cool darkness, surrounded by the scent of fresh, unburned dirt. Clumps of it fell on her when the dragon slammed back down onto the ground, and she scrambled deeper into the small burrow. She pulled herself through the earth until it opened into an abandoned den, and then she curled up, pressing herself against the back of the hole.

  Shrieking and clawing, the massive animal raged in a fury, trying to find its lost prey. Ingrid could feel the vibrations through the trembling ground as the dragon walked to and fro, hunting for her.

  Huddled in the dark, she made herself as small as possible. The burns on her arm screamed, but it was the slice through her flesh that worried her. Holding her hand over the wound, she didn’t feel the usual warm tingle of healing.

  Not once, but twice while Ingrid was tending to her injuries, the giant face leaned down, turning a blazing red eye into the cave, and then stomped away.

  Remembering what Plintze had told her about the poor eyesight of the beast, she relaxed a little and prepared to stay in her hiding place as long as necessary. She thought of her home and family, vulnerable and at the mercy of Jarrick and his forces, and she felt like a sharp axe had been taken to her insides. If she could rest, get her gash to stop bleeding, and avoid the dragon, maybe she could still make it home before the others.

  Why won’t this close? I accept that I’m the healer—stop bleeding, already!

  Spots danced at the edges of her vision. Dirt rained down on her as the dragon continued to stomp around outside, but she cared less and less about him. Keeping a vice-like grip on her arm, she leaned her head against the cool earth and closed her eyes.

  Ingrid’s eyelids and body felt heavy and immovable, but her mind fluttered awake, breaking free from the cocoon that held it captive. A spoon rattled against a pot, and the smell of warm stew and fresh bread woke her dormant stomach with a loud growl. A couple seconds later, a rough finger pushed against her eye, prying her lid open, and a shadowed face hovered inches from her own.

  “Come on, finish this and wake up,” a familiar voice growled.

  I know that voice. Plintze!

  The dwarf’s hidden cottage, that’s where she was.

  As she struggled to bring herself out of the bonds that chained her to sleep, a moan slipped from her throat. Finally, she licked at her lips and cracked open her eyes. When she attempted to move her arms and push herself up, she realized that one of them was strapped across her middle. Fear sent an instant surge of strength through her, and she gasped for air as she bolted into a sitting position.

  “Whoa, easy now,” Plintze said as if she were a frightened horse.

  Breathing hard and still confused, she looked around the room. It was the same as the last time she’d seen it, except now she slept atop a pallet of straw, with warm, heavy blankets over her.

  “How?” Swallowing hard against her dry throat, she tried to follow the memories that swirled through her head: the dragon, the hole, the pain. Looking down at her strapped arm, it all flooded back to her.

  “Here, eat this, and get some strength back.” Plintze placed a bowl of stew in her lap and a spoon in her free hand.

  “How did I get here?” she asked.

  “I brought you. After that demon gave up and flew away,” he said.

  “I didn’t think it would do that. I expected it to dig me out and . . .” Tears stung the back of her eyes.

  “They aren’t agile creatures on the ground; don’t want to dirty their pretty claws, either. Quicker than an arrow in the air, though.”

  “How did you find me and get me here?”

  “Stop asking so many questions.” Plintze played with something in his pocket, not looking at Ingrid. “I don’t know why, but it felt like I had to search for you. Like something pulled me there. Eat!”

  Ingrid hurried a spoonful to her mouth on reflex, then hunger hit with full force, and she continued to eat in earnest.

  Plintze told her more of the story. “I came upon that beast circling the hole you’d crawled into, and stayed hidden until it left. Digging you out was no easy chore; carrying you over my shoulder like some ox didn’t do me any good, either.” Plintze took her empty bowl and filled it again, setting it gently back in her lap.

  “Thank you. I expected to die.” Staring into her stew, Ingrid saw an errant tear plop into the bowl.

  “Humph.”

  Ingrid smiled through her watery vision. Despite the circumstances, her body relaxed, and she breathed easier.

  “Why is my arm like this?” She didn’t feel any pain, but her entire left arm was wrapped in linen and cradled in a sling strapped to her chest.

  “You got a nasty burn and slice in that arm. The burns were already healing by the time I got to you, but there’s venom in a dragon’s claws. Helps them to subdue their prey. Your body couldn’t heal that, I guess.”

  “It doesn’t hurt. Did you fix it?”

  “I had to get help, but you’ll heal,” he said.

  “Help from who? I thought you stayed away from everyone.”

  “I do,” he growled. “But you’d have died.” The last part was said so low that Ingrid almost didn’t hear it, as he turned his back to her and busied himself stirring the pot over the fire.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  The cottage remained silent for several minutes. Finished with the stew and a slice of bread that Plintze had added to the second bowl, Ingrid’s strength was returning. Rested and warm, she fiddled with the coverings over her legs.

  “What’s the matter?” Plintze looked at her over his shoulder.

  “I need to go outside for a few minutes,” she said.

  Confused, he turned and stared at her until she cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh,” he opened his eyes wide with understanding. Opening the door, he helped her walk on her knees to get through the small dwelling and go outside. “Hurry.”

  Ingrid shook her head at the bossy tone, while letting her eyes adjust to the morning sunlight after the cottage’s dark interior.

  “Did you hear me? I said hurry,” Plintze said when she hadn’t moved.

  “Back off, I’ll go as fast as I can,” she hissed.

  Plintze stared at her and blinked without saying another word. Ingrid stretched her back, feeling the skin on her arm tingle as it rubbed against the linen wrap, and walked away from the cottage. She returned a few minutes later to find Plintze pacing in front of his door.

  “Thought you might get it in your head to run off,” he said. “Inside, quick.”

  Bending over, she walked through the door without help, and settled back onto the pallet. The fire was low, and the food was gone, but the room hugged her in warmth.

  “How long have I been here, Plintze?”

  The dwarf made some grumbles, and fidgeted with his sleeve before answering. “Three days.”

  “What?” Ingrid closed her eyes and let the instant tears slide through her lashes. Three days. Too lat
e, I’m too late.

  The elves would have made it to the village without a warning, which means Jorg and Selby had pulled Hagen into a disaster. Everyone she loved was most likely dead or dying, and she had done nothing to stop it. Sorrow turned to anger, deeper and darker than she had ever felt. It bubbled up from within, making her hands shake and her lip curl with the need for vengeance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt a sensation, like a tapping of something trapped and trying to get her attention.

  Ignoring the sensation, she looked at Plintze. “I have to go home. I need to know what happened.”

  “What’s wrong? You don’t seem like yourself,” he asked.

  “I’m fine, I just need to leave, that’s all. Where’s my pack? Did I lose it?”

  “No, it’s here. It was on the ground near where I found you.”

  Agitated, he stomped over to his bed and started throwing items onto the cover. Ingrid watched in confusion as he wrapped the cover into a bundle and shoved it into the pack she’d seen him wearing the first time they’d met.

  Pulling her pack out from under his bed, he held it out to her. “No reason to dawdle. Let’s go.”

  He threw open the door, jammed a wide-brimmed hat onto his head, and left.

  Ingrid followed him. “Where are you going?”

  “Close the door,” he yelled.

  Grabbing the handle and jerking the door closed, she ran to catch up to him. “Why are you coming with me?”

  “You’ll need to go slow, and I’ll need to treat your arm again, so I have to come with you.”

  “You could give me the supplies; I’m capable of taking care of myself. You don’t need to follow me.”

  She stopped walking and looked down at the ground, her eyes roaming back and forth as if searching for something.

  “There, that’s what I’m talking about,” Plintze said. “You’re acting snappish. It’s not like you.”

  “I know, I heard it that time.” Looking at him, her eyes went soft. The knocking in her brain was louder now, and she put a hand to her forehead, rubbing it to try and clear the noise.

  “What happened out there? What haven’t you told me?” Plintze asked.

  Ingrid continued to rub her temples with her good hand, keeping her eyes closed. “Jarrick of Alfheim spoke to me through the dragon.” She didn’t open her eyes, but could hear Plintze’s breathing quicken.

  “What are you saying? How could he speak to you?”

  “I don’t know how. There was a flash of light, then his voice was in my head. It felt like tar.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He wanted me to join him, to come to Alfheim. When I refused, there was another flash of light and then the dragon attacked.”

  “We need to hurry. You are not safe out here.”

  “I feel like part of him is still inside my mind, sticky and dark. My head aches.”

  Plintze didn’t say anything, and when Ingrid opened her eyes, he was staring at her. “He practices the dark arts. We need to get you to someone who can help you.”

  Ingrid nodded her head, as tears stung the back of her eyes and her lip started to tremble. So much had happened and the thought of dark magic influencing her was too much.

  Plintze stepped away. “None of that, let’s go.”

  Adjusting his hat, he strode off in the same direction she had walked days before.

  19

  Ingrid stood from refilling her flask with water from the bubbling creek she’d followed on her first trip through the valley. Stretching her back, she closed her eyes, trying to let the chirping birds and sunshine soothe her mind and spirit. The scent of mint floated through the air above the smells of moss and damp earth. Inhaling long and deep, she let the breath out slowly before opening her eyes and readying to continue the journey.

  “Are you ready to go?” she asked Plintze, who was resting in the shade of some gorse bushes.

  Without a word, he stood and turned toward the steep hillside, digging his walking stick into the earth as he began to climb.

  “Where are you going? Shouldn’t we keep following the creek?”

  “This way is faster,” he called back to her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me to come this way before?”

  Ingrid grunted as she dug her feet into the incline and leaned forward to keep from falling. Her muscles were straining from staying in bed so long after the dragon attack, but she wouldn’t admit it.

  The little imp is probably trying to get me lost, anyway.

  As soon as she had the thought, her head ached again, pressure squeezing her skull from the inside.

  “Plintze,” she called out to the dwarf, who was getting farther and farther away from her. “I don’t think I can make it this way.”

  “You can. Keep moving.”

  Plintze didn’t look back at her, and she snorted at his heartless lack of concern. Rubbing the back of her neck, she pinched her lips together and kept climbing. After what felt like hours, and with dirt stuck throughout the fibers of her gauntlet and smeared across her face, they reached the top.

  Falling to the ground, Ingrid laid on her back in the grass, needing to catch her breath.

  “Where’s the wrap for your other hand?” Plintze asked.

  “Why do you care? You’re in too much of a hurry to get me home and leave me.”

  Plintze grumbled something Ingrid didn’t understand, and took a few steps away.

  When he returned to stand near her, he said, “I will not leave you. Do you still have the wrap or not?”

  “It’s right here. I had to take it off because it kept getting caught on the mountain I was forced to climb.”

  “Put it back on, and then we’ll go. We can make it by nightfall if we hurry.”

  Ingrid rolled her eyes and huffed loudly while sitting up. Fumbling with the long strip of fabric, she struggled to wrap it in a secure way, taking it on and off several times with increasing mutterings and growls each time. Finally, she threw it onto the ground, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “I don’t need it, anyway.”

  Plintze sighed. “Yes, you do. Give it here, I’ll wrap it.”

  “I’m sorry, Plintze, I don’t feel right. Like everything is wrong, and it will never get better.” Ingrid picked the wrapping up off the ground and handed it to the dwarf, who’d kneeled next to her.

  “It’s the dark elf. He used magic that’s letting him manipulate you. He’s riding around with us, inside your head.”

  “How do you know that? Why would he do that to me? How do I get him out?” Ingrid rushed out the questions without taking a breath.

  Plintze looked up at her with a scowl. “Settle yourself, girl.” He finished wrapping her hand and stood up. “I’ll tell you while we walk. Let’s go.”

  Ingrid stood up and followed as he headed off in the direction they needed to go. As they crested the hill, she stopped for a moment to take in the view.

  Lush, green trees and white, yellow and pink blossoms dotted the ground in random patterns, lending their sweet scents to the air. A thick lump formed in her throat as a similar view came to mind, only it was blackened now and filled with evil. Plintze, either not realizing she’d stopped or not caring, continued down the slope into the forested cover.

  Ingrid straightened herself, squared her shoulders, and hurried after him.

  Under the thick canopy, the air grew cooler, and the light played games with the shadows. Several times, Ingrid felt as if someone watched her, flitting in and out of sight among the sunbeams.

  “It’s creepy in here,” she said.

  “It is. The faster we get through this part, the better.”

  Amazingly, Ingrid nearly had to jog to match Plintze’s pace.

  “I feel like I’m being watched. Is there someone out there?” she whispered, louder than she’d wanted to.

  “Yes. The sprites live in this part of the forest. Never can tell how they’ll behave; best to steer clear of them.”


  “The sprites? Have they always lived here, or are they newly returned as well?”

  “They were here long before your kind.”

  “Hmm. Why haven’t I ever seen one?”

  “You don’t want to.”

  “How do you know? You can’t decide that for me.” Ingrid felt the pressure in her brain again, telling her to focus on her frustration and anger. I’m so tired of being told what I can and can’t do. Now my own body has turned against me.

  “You want to meet a sprite, that’s your business. I’d advise against it, that’s all,” Plintze growled, his patience growing thin with her attitude. “I don’t want to be around when you do, though, so keep moving.”

  “Weren’t you friends with one?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m not talking about it here. Not all of them are bad, but they are all temperamental.”

  Ingrid scanned the trees and undergrowth, back and forth and above her head, paying more attention to trying to glimpse a sprite than to her feet, and she almost tripped several times.

  “Watch yourself!” Plintze yelled when she tumbled forward into him, not for the first time.

  “How far away are we from the village? I don’t recognize this area.”

  “Far enough. We should make it before dark, if you don’t break one of us first.”

  “Humph.” Giggling to herself, she ignored the retorted mutterings from Plintze at her use of his favorite word.

  Not long after, the forest thinned, and more light pushed aside the shadows. Plintze allowed the pace to slow a slight degree, and they walked in silence. Without stopping, they pulled dried herring from their packs, staved off their hunger, and pressed on.

  Starting its descent on the western horizon, the sun fired the skies in bright oranges and yellows by the time the pair finally stood at the top of the hillside above the village.

  Ingrid’s heart hammered in her chest, and her middle tied up in knots. They hadn’t seen any smoky tendrils in the sky that would signal the buildings having been set to the torch, but the elves would have arrived days before, so it could just be that the smoke had time to clear.