by Bec McMaster
A strange mix of horror and respect filled her as he slid the grappling hook into place, and attached a wheel with a thin steel rope wound around it. Three sharp prongs gleamed with lethal intensity at the end of the hook, but they were designed to attach under the edge of armor-plated scales, not to penetrate them. Haakon's hands moved with brutal intensity as he fit it altogether, snapping pieces into place and locking in metal pegs that were clearly designed for the purpose.
A device built to foul a dreki's greatest weapon; its ability to fly.
"Brought my first dragon down with this in Norway," he said.
"No! There are three of them, and I cannot help you." She'd never felt more hopeless. Her fingers found the edge of the manacle, but all she managed to do was bruise the skin at her wrist. "If I could just get this damned thing off!"
"We've tried."
"Use your sword," she hissed, her gaze cutting to the skies again, before she realized he'd frozen. What is he—? "Not that like that, you fool! I don't want you to cut my hand off! We have to break the bracelet. The only way we can fight is if I'm free to use my magic."
Haakon took her by the wrist. "Árdís, just trust me, will you?"
"It's not you I don't trust."
This was her worst nightmare come to life. They'd kill Haakon, and it would be all her fault for getting him mixed up in this life.
One of the dreki screamed out a challenge, cutting through the clouds as it began to spiral downward in a taunting curve.
Roar. The heat drained from her face. Correction. He was her worst nightmare.
"You're going to get yourself killed!" She turned on him, her finger stabbing toward the sky. "That mottled-gray overgrown bat is my illegitimate cousin, Roar." Her tone turned pleading. "Sirius has just enough honor left within him to make bargaining with him reasonable. And some of the others might not kill you just for the joy of it. But Roar is every single one of my uncle's worst instincts bred into dreki flesh. Please. Please, just run. I'll give myself up to give you time to get away. But please don't do this."
A muscle in his jaw jumped. "I'm not leaving you behind. Not again."
"Don't be a hero! I don't want to see you hurt."
"Then what makes you think I want to see you in the hands of a man you're terrified of?" he bellowed.
"I'm not frightened for my own sake," she declared. "He won't hurt me. He wouldn't dare."
Haakon's eyes hardened, as if he saw the hopelessness in her eyes. "Breathe, Árdís."
And then he captured the back of her head, and dragged her up onto her toes. Their mouths met, his lips claiming hers in a scalding kiss that quite stole her wits.
Then it was over, and Árdís swayed as her heels touched the ground again.
"I don't know how that's going to help me breathe," she murmured, touching her swollen lips with a startled hand.
The flat look her husband gave her was one she knew all too well. Of all his traits, that hardheaded, pure sense of stubbornness drove her mad. She might as well argue with the tide when Haakon wore that expression. "The decision is made. I'm not going anywhere, and that is final. For heaven's sake, Árja, I need time to prepare. Stop arguing with me and help!"
She swallowed down the lump of fear in her throat. "What do you want me to do?"
He showed her, and they set about anchoring the end of the grappling hook's chain to a boulder. Haakon moved with frightening precision, but Árdís couldn't take her eyes off the skies as the dreki overhead drifted lower in slow circles.
She grit her teeth at the sheer mockery inherent in the gesture. Roar was taking his time, as if to taunt her.
"You know them better than I do," Haakon said. "Tell me their weaknesses. Tell me how to play this."
"Aim for Roar," she told him. "You need to take him out of this fight if you're to have any chance."
"And the others?"
One was the murky green shades of swamp slime; the other a vibrant red with a scar of gray across his grizzled shoulder. "Ylve and Balder. Ylve's mine. She's the more vicious, and I know how to fight her. We need them on the ground, and in mortal form."
"Easier said than done."
She shook her head, hurrying toward the slim, leather-wrapped bundle on the back of Snorri. "We just need to make the air above us unsafe. Then they'll have to land, if they want a chance at me."
The chestnut shied away, but Árdís grabbed his bridle and glared into his beady little eyes. "Not now, you fat carpetbag. If you're good, then I won't let the bad dreki eat you."
She withdrew her sword with a steely rasp, and then let him go.
"They won't seek to wait us out?"
"They're dreki, Haakon." She stepped to the middle of the opening into the rocky tor, and glared up at Roar. "To wait us out indicates they consider the pair of us a threat. Arrogance will be their downfall."
"A specific trait of the species, it seems."
"I heard that."
A faint chuckle sounded. Then it died. "What are you doing?"
"Are you ready?" she demanded, waving her sword to get the dreki's attention. "And what do you think I'm doing? I am playing bait. You just focus on your shot. If you miss, then we're doomed."
"I'm not going to miss," he growled.
"Now, who's being arrogant?"
"I swear to the gods—"
"Roar!" she yelled. "You ugly, overbred bat!”
Roar screeched.
A shiver ran down her spine, but she could feel something else rising up within her. An answering roar of fury within her that made her blink. She'd never felt her dreki bare its teeth like that before.
"I think you got his attention," Haakon muttered, and she could hear him winding something behind her.
She shot him a ferocious grin, then returned her attention to her half-cousin. "You overgrown lizard! Your mother was a dragon! Why don't you come down here and fight me?"
Roar banked, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. She could sense him trying to communicate psychically with her, and refused the link. Letting that vile creature connect with her mind would be like diving naked into one of the stagnant pools that dotted the landscape.
"Here he comes," she warned, taking a steady step back.
"Got him in my sights. I need him as close as you can get him."
Roar began to dive toward them, his wings tucking flat against his sides. Árdís's breath caught. If Haakon missed the shot, then she had little doubt she'd be plucked in those ferocious claws and dragged kicking and screaming into the skies. Her hand firmed on the hilt of her sword. If so, then she was going to do her best to shove her blade right between Roar's teeth....
"Get ready to get out of the way," Haakon warned.
Árdís's knees flexed. Then she hesitated. She didn't want to make a move until Haakon was ready. If Roar dodged and the shot missed—
"Árja!"
The gray dreki banked at the last second, his claws coming up to pluck her from the ground.
"Now!" she screamed, and dove out of the way.
A crack sounded, and something flew past her ear. Roar hissed in fury as he saw her hit the ground and roll. Árdís's shoulder ached, and she landed against the base of one of the boulders, her view of Roar obliterated. All she could see was the metal rope grow taut, and a sudden scream of rage.
"Got him!" Haakon bellowed, leaping over the cable as it snapped taut. He dragged her to her feet, and shoved her head low as the rope suddenly cut toward them.
It shot over their heads, as Roar veered to the side, flapping madly. Haakon pressed her back to a boulder, his face intensely focused as he watched the dreki battling to free itself. The other two dreki veered out of their dives, flapping a hasty retreat, as if the attack flustered them.
The shot had flown true. The grappling hook had hooked into Roar's flank, the cable twisted hopelessly over his body and wing. The more he tried to free himself, the more he tangled himself up. Roar threw himself against the weight of the rope, but it was holding, an
d though the enormous boulder shifted and slid a fraction, it was too heavy for the dreki to move.
He was going down.
She was surprised by how much she enjoyed the sight. Árdís jumped into the air, punching her fist toward her cousin. "We did it."
"The only way he's going to free himself is to change forms," Haakon said, with grim satisfaction. "He'll have to face me as a man."
As if the dreki heard him, Roar landed with a faint whump, hissing in their general direction.
"Be careful. He can control the elements," she warned. The other two dreki landed beside Roar, sniffing cautiously. "That's the three of them on the ground."
Dreki warriors carried travel bags with them. Ylve shimmered with a golden light, her spread wings shrinking into arms. The glow subsided, and the woman looked up, her teeth bared fiercely as she found mortal form. She picked up her bag, and yanked her clothes on before withdrawing her sword.
"She's mine," Árdís said.
Balder made the shift to mortal flesh, helping to untangle Roar. Her cousin looked furious when he changed shape. The three of them were dark blurs in the mist.
Árdís planted herself between the two enormous stones, holding her sword with both hands, the tip pointed toward the ground. She had the higher ground here, and her position between the boulders meant Ylve could only come at her from one direction.
The enormous dreki warrior bared her teeth, her braids swinging. Ylve was Zilittu, an outsider from her mother's clan who'd followed the siblings across the sea. An enormous scar bisected her cheek, and she had several holes in her ears where she normally wore her gold hoops.
Not today.
"I'm going to enjoy this, Princess."
"Likewise," Árdís replied, shifting lightly on her feet. Thank the goddess she'd worn breeches and a tunic today. She'd needed the extra padding for the saddle, but the skirts would have hampered her now.
Ylve sprang at her, trying to take her by surprise so Árdís's advantage with the higher ground didn't matter as much. Steel rang as the pair of swords met. The first blow jarred up her arm, but it also served to slam sense into her.
She'd spent years in the training halls with Master Innick, drilling relentlessly under the brutal dreki warlord who'd once served her father. A dreki princess didn't need to know how to duel, but Árdís had always felt more than just a little unsafe in her mother's court.
And when one had to rely on the males around them for protection, it left one remarkably vulnerable.
Árdís beat back the first assault with a swift flurry of precise blows. Ylve's eyes widened, and the older dreki stepped back to assess the situation for a second. It was clear she hadn't expected to find a worthy foe here.
"Come out and play, Princess," Ylve taunted, gesturing to the wide-open space.
"I'm quite content here, thank you." Ylve couldn't flank her with the enormous stones standing sentinel on either side of her.
A clash of swords behind her broke her concentration. Haakon.
"Are you all right?" she yelled, not daring to take her eyes off the female in front of her.
A startled scream of rage returned, and someone grunted.
"I do this for a living," Haakon bellowed.
Ylve was slightly taller than her, and broader through the shoulders. She sparred on a daily basis, and had years of experience beyond Árdís's.
"Your mother wants you alive," Ylve said, and then smiled. "She didn't say it had to be in one piece."
"I dare you to harm a single hair on my head," Árdís taunted. "You might be her lapdog, but I'm her daughter and she has plans for me. Do you remember what happened when Ion broke Marduk's arm?"
Ylve darted forward, blade held low. Árdís disengaged with a prompt sidestep, but Ylve was inside her guard now.
A fist became the center of her vision and Árdís's head snapped back as it landed, her ears ringing and the inside of her head vibrating. She barely had time to swing her sword up before the whip of Ylve's blade clashed against it.
This wasn't sparring.
Nor was it practice.
She deflected the next blow, but the jar of it ached up her right arm. Ylve lashed out, sinking her boot into Árdís's midriff, and she staggered back, tripping on a rock. The second she hit the ground she rolled backward over her shoulder, coming up onto one knee, with her fingertips on the shale. Ylve strode forward, lifting her blade, but Árdís's eyes narrowed. Fine. They weren't sparring. It was clear the other woman planned to fight dirty.
Launching forward, she drove her shoulder into Ylve's midriff, sending the other woman crashing back into a boulder. Árdís dug her knuckles in under the woman's ribs, and then darted to the side, her sword scraping along Ylve's and slicing down the woman's forearm as she gained some space.
"First blood," Árdís said, breathing hard. Her shoulder ached.
A flicker of black entered the field of her vision. Balder, slinking in from the side. Ylve had forced her back within the ring of standing stones, most likely precisely for this very reason.
"Árdís, watch out!" Haakon called.
One sword against two. Árdís immediately backed her way between two of the enormous standing stones so they could only come at her one at a time. "Focus on your own fight," she yelled. Haakon couldn't afford to be distracted.
Wise advice.
She ought to take it herself.
Swords swung at her, and she moved like lightning, breathing hard as she avoided each blow. Her only saving grace was that they couldn't afford to hurt her. They were trying to hem her in, and disarm her. Árdís's head rang again as the hilt of Balder's sword slammed into her cheekbone. Her world narrowed down to a moment of pain as she staggered, and doubt whispered through her heart.
Haakon.
She was fighting now in desperation.
A knee drove into her thigh, and Árdís's vision exploded into white. It felt like she'd been stabbed. Ylve caught her by the shoulder, and drove the same knee up into her abdomen.
Árdís crumpled over the blow, her breath choking her as her lungs seized up. Her vision narrowed to a pinpoint, a rushing sound echoing through her ears. She saw Balder turn away from her to face some new threat, but she couldn't see what was happening.
"I'm enjoying every second of this, Princess." Ylve's whisper somehow broke through the ringing echo in her ears, as the female's fist clenched in Árdís's braid. "Every. Second."
The dreki drove her to her knees, pinning her there. Without her magic or her sword, she was helpless to resist. Árdís forced herself to breathe through the ache, until she could almost focus again.
"Don't hurt her."
A pair of boots came into her field of vision.
Ylve forced her to look up as Roar sauntered into view, clad in strict black leather. She bared her teeth. What was happening? Where was Haakon? She could hear someone grunting, and the hard slam of a fist burying itself in someone's flesh, but she didn't know who was who.
"Did you say something about me being an overgrown bat?" he taunted, his pale gaze caressing her face with an intensity that sickened her. "I swear, Árdís, you should be nicer to the dreki who's going to mate with you."
"I'd rather cut off my own wings," she shot back, "than mate with you."
His smile softened, and he took a menacing step toward her, his hand sliding behind her head, as he drew a knife from the sheath at his hip. "Perhaps I'll do it for you, so you can never, ever run away from me."
"Get your hands off her!" Haakon yelled, and a flurry of movement blurred in the corner of her vision.
"Haakon!" Árdís screamed, straining against Ylve's hold.
"Is that his name? Thank you, Árdís. I always like to add their names to my list when I kill them." Roar traced the tip of his blade down her cheek, but something came over her. Something she'd never felt before.
You will not have me, roared the dreki of her soul, and something surged within her. Something wild and chaotic, and utterly overw
helming, pressing at her skin from the inside as it fought to escape.
"But first, the man," Roar said, flipping the short ugly dagger in his fingers. "Pin him down, Balder."
Haakon.
A flush of terror flooded through her. Her lips felt numb. Time slowed as Roar turned and started toward her fallen husband. Balder had a foot planted on Haakon's throat, and her husband's arms were outflung, blood smearing the fingers she could see.
It was everything she'd ever feared.
Pain vanished. The world went away. Only the knife in Roar's hand remained, and the blood on her husband's twitching fingers.
All she could hear was that ringing in her ears again, but this time it felt like it was coming from somewhere deep inside her, like someone had struck a bell.
Or not a ringing.
It was her soul screaming "No."
Heat filled her eyes as the dreki rose within her, choking her with rage. Árdís screamed. The manacle kept it chained within her, but it was forcing its way through her pores, shredding her soul in half....
The world turned green as Árdís surrendered.
She tore free from her own skin, exploding into a spirit form of pure green light, her wings flapping madly and her maw opening. The weight of her fleshly body fell away.
She was a spirit of pure vengeance and fury, a firestorm of passion and rage.
Raw Chaos magic turned the air into a miniature aurora borealis around her as Árdís rose above them all on wings of pure light.
From this height, she could see Haakon groaning as he rolled onto his side, and Balder gaped up at her. Relief flooded through her, but she could also see the blood on Haakon's nose and his flanks. Directly below her, her own body stood swaying, and Árdís blinked to see herself from the outside.
What had she done?
What was this?
"Roar!" Ylve cried a warning, and it rippled through the air on sound waves Árdís could almost see.
Roar's eyes widened with surprise as Árdís dove toward him. "He's mine!" she yelled.
The air rushed past her as she opened her gaping maw.
Roar screamed, hands flung up to protect himself.
She barely had weight or form. She was merely a churning mass of pure Chaos, the magic fighting to tear free of the spirit form she'd bound it in. Somehow her teeth closed over his shoulder. She could feel them sinking into his flesh as he cried out, batting at her, his hands sweeping straight through the rest of her.
