With Dragons She Walks

by Darby, Brit

  Pure fury scorched his mind, lingered and twisted within him, stealing control of battered emotions. Hate slithered into him when Bjorn attacked Cailin with his ugly words and foul temper. It still constricted inside him, dark and dangerous, coiled like a snake in the pit of his stomach. But the worst and most destructive was the fear that had shattered his soul when Cailin casually and fearlessly offered to endure a trial by fire. The emotions remained strong, relentless.

  He dragged Cailin from Ragnald’s hall, his grip like iron about her delicate wrist. He tried to convince himself he didn’t care … just like she didn’t care. If she cared, she wouldn’t put him through such hell.

  When he stopped, Cailin ran into his rigid body. He grabbed her shoulders and directed his pent-up anger at her.

  “You must be witless, Cailin. What on earth possessed you to agree to such a thing? ’Tis madness. Pure madness!”

  Drake knew he was shouting, drawing eyes to them despite the lateness of the hour. He didn’t wait for her answer. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  “Leo, get the horses.”

  Leo looked about, confused by Drake’s barked order. “What are you doing?”

  “What I should have done before — taking this little fool out of here. Before she gets us all killed!”

  “Put me down, Drake.” Her voice was muffled against his back, yet calm.

  “Not this time, Cailin. I’ll not let you talk us into another foolhardy notion of yours. Honor and truth be damned. No, I’ll not listen this time.”

  He started to walk again, his long strides taking them to where their horses were tied. Cailin made no attempt to struggle and said nothing. Drake hoisted her from his shoulder and plopped her up into the saddle.

  “It is too late, Drake,” she said, her soft violet eyes looking down into his. Her voice held a quiet apology he did not want to hear.

  “Do you believe I will stand by and let you do this?”

  “You have no choice. There is nothing you can do.”

  “I can take you away from here. I’ll gag and tie you if I must.”

  His threat was sincere, but she simply smiled. It infuriated him so Drake thought his head might burst from the raging blood that filled it. “Damn you, woman,” he swore beneath his breath, pacing beside the horse, “you’re bloody mad.”

  “If we try to leave Birka now, Ragnald’s men will cut us down for cowards. I’m sorry, Drake. Only if I succeed in the trial will I ever leave this town alive.”

  “What if you do not succeed?”

  “I will die.”

  He stopped pacing and let out a shaky sigh, raking a hand through his hair. “How can you succeed, Cailin? You must walk thirteen paces on red-hot iron. ’Tis impossible for any human to endure such a feat.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Not impossible.”

  Drake closed his eyes, unable to look at her serene face any longer. “Even if you completed the steps, you will be burned horribly.”

  “Yes,” Cailin admitted.

  His eyes opened again. She reached down from the horse and touched his cheek, her fingertips caressed him lightly.

  “I will be burned, but that is not by what they will judge me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “In a week, my wounds will be examined. If they are healing and show no infection, I will be judged innocent. Or, in my case, my powers will be vindicated. Therefore, my word will be taken as the truth.”

  “I cannot stand by and watch you suffer.”

  “Then you must not be present.”

  “Aye,” Drake agreed harshly, knocking her hand away from him. “’Tis best I not be there to witness your foolishness, woman.”

  Cailin watched as Drake strode away, his fury clear in each step. Leo remained silent during their argument, but as she slid down from the horse, he stepped forward and placed his hand upon her shoulder.

  “He doesn’t mean what he said, Cailin.”

  “No,” she said as she busied herself uncinching her horse’s saddle, “it’s best this way, that he not be there.”

  “It’s difficult for Drake to believe in your dreams and whatnot. I doubt he ever will, Cailin.”

  “Why?” Cailin whirled around, angry now herself. “Why is it so hard to believe that I have the power of prophecy? Are you all afraid of such things? Do you believe I am a witch, Leo?”

  “You mustn’t talk like that,” Leo whispered, looking uncomfortable.

  “You are afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  Leo drew his shoulders back and faced Cailin. “Not of you. I am afraid of … of these powers you seem to possess. But I don’t believe you are a witch.”

  “Does Drake believe in witches?”

  Leo cleared his throat. “I don’t think he does, but he knows the fear and panic such rumors cause. He has seen what fear can do when it controls people.”

  Cailin felt a sudden tightness in her chest. “What happened that makes Drake afraid to accept what I am?”

  “It was something that happened to his grandmother on his mother’s side. Ailsa lived in a village a few days ride to the north, where Drake and I grew up. They were very close and Drake spent as much time as he could with her.”

  Leo went silent, his head lowered in remembrance, his mind going back to another time, another place. Cailin didn’t push him, though her heart raced now inside her chest, and she tensed with foreboding.

  He spoke at last. “It was said that Ailsa was a Druid priestess, clinging to the ancient ways. She understood the healing herbs and plants, and many went to her when ill. But some with Christian beliefs whispered she was evil, claimed her talents came from sorcery.”

  A chill streaked up Cailin’s spine, memories of her own sneaking in to haunt her. As a child people had feared her, even her birth mother’s face mirrored discomfort when Cailin spoke of her dreams or her Dragons.

  “Drake was visiting her when a whole family suddenly took ill. Despite Ailsa’s attempts to save them, they all died. The villagers grew angry, then fearful. They gathered about Ailsa’s cottage and demanded she repent her evil ways and accept Christianity to save her soul.”

  Leo fell silent.

  Cailin prompted him, “What happened?”

  “She sent Drake out, saying she would be along after she fetched something she needed. When she did not appear, the mob grew restless. They shouted his grandmother was a witch and held him back when he tried to run back for her. Drake was only fourteen and could do nothing to stop them. He begged Ailsa to do as they asked, but she refused to betray her beliefs and come out, even as they set fire to her thatched roof.”

  Cailin was horrified. “They burned her alive in her home?”

  “Aye,” Leo’s voice cracked.

  Cailin thought a moment and then said firmly, “It’s not the same, Leo.”

  “No,” he agreed, then sent her relief flying when he added, “’Tis much worse.”

  “Worse? How so?”

  “Ailsa merely healed with her knowledge of herbs and plants. You claim to walk with mythical creatures, their blood mingled with yours. What do you expect people to think, Cailin?”

  “I don’t know, sometimes it’s even difficult for me to understand. But I don’t want you to fear me.”

  “Fear is fear. It drives people to do horrible things.”

  “Does Drake truly believe that by denying who I am, I will be kept safe from superstitious fools who don’t understand?”

  Leo shrugged. “It seems your power of Sight frightens people, even as it commands their respect. Still, you risk death rather than betray what you believe to be true. You are not so different from Ailsa in that respect.”

  “Perhaps not,” she conceded.

  “Drake still hears his grandmother’s cries of agony in his nightmares.”

  Cailin’s heart broke for the boy Drake and what he witnessed. “That is why he bears the mark of the Dragons … in honor of his grandmother.”

 
“Aye. Ailsa used to tell Drake stories about Dragons, and she drew their images upon parchment for him to keep. She promised that when he was a man, she would ink them upon his flesh, in the old way, so he might be forever protected by his namesake.”

  “But she was unable to keep her promise.”

  Leo nodded. “When he came of age, Drake endured many hours under the needle to bring Ailsa’s images to life on his flesh. He became a living monument to her memory.”

  “I understand now. Then I think it is best if neither of you attend the trial.”

  “No,” Leo objected, but Cailin stopped his further protest.

  “The Dragons shall be with me.”

  Leo looked away from her. Cailin smiled sadly and patted his arm. “Go, be with Drake. I need some time alone.”

  “WHAT’S SHE DOING, LEO?”

  Drake watched his cousin settle down beside him among the piles of crates that lined the dock’s edge. The lapping sound of waves nearby soothed his temper somewhat. A softened moon graced the dark sky, its near fullness reminding him of what was to come when next it embarked upon its nightly journey: Cailin’s trial.

  “Cailin said she needed some time alone.”

  After Leo’s statement a companionable silence settled over them, like a comfortable warm cloak. Drake studied the stars above them, winking against the blue-black fabric of the heavens. They sat for a long time before Leo finally shared what was on his mind.

  “Cailin needs us at her side tomorrow,” Leo said, his voice a whisper on the chilled air, “even if she claims differently.”

  A heavy sigh followed his statement. Drake couldn’t see Leo’s face but knew it was drawn and serious.

  “She’s quite clear that she doesn’t need us, Leo. That woman doesn’t need anyone … she has her damned Dragons.”

  “Funny, that’s what she said.”

  Drake laughed, a cynical bark echoing about them in the night. “Aye, that’s not surprising.”

  Thoughtfully, Leo said, “Perhaps you are one of Cailin’s Dragons, she the other. If you are not there …”

  Leo didn’t finish, but Drake understood what he was trying to say. If he was not there, her powers might be diminished. Drake flinched at the thought.

  “’Tis ludicrous.”

  His conviction was weak, holding none of the sentiment he wanted to cling to so desperately. “Get some sleep, Leo. Tomorrow will be a long day, and even longer night.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “ASA-GOD OF THE one hand.”

  Cailin lifted her gaze to the sky, the black cauldron of vastness open to her plea. “Bravest of all gods, hear my plea for justice. Stand beside me in the courts or any time I am accused. Speak into the ears of those in authority. Grant me freedom from all persecution.”

  In the distance, black on black shifted, and slowly, the flutter of feathered wings brushed her ear. From out of the darkness Disir floated to earth, landing gently upon her shoulder.

  “What have you been up to, Disir?”

  Beady eyes, shiny like black glass, watched Cailin. With a chortling sound the raven dropped a sprig of mint into the hand that reached up to stroke his sleek head.

  “Thank you, my friend,” she whispered, then carefully placed the gift into her rune pouch for luck.

  “MY DRAGON.”

  Cailin’s voice drifted through his sleep, softly brushing over his ear wakening him. Drake did not move, drinking in the memory of his dream and the woman who commanded his every waking and sleeping moment.

  “My Dragon.”

  This time, Drake sat up, the remnants of his slumber shattered beneath a new, more insistent reality. Cailin stood among the mountains of cargo, beckoning him to come to her. Golden light of the near full moon cascaded over her form, bathing her beauty in an ethereal glow.

  Drake stood and moved toward her. A soft sigh fluttered to him, making his footsteps quicken in pursuit. As he drew closer, he paused, the light that engulfed Cailin growing stronger, brighter in intensity. It was as if she were ablaze in flames, the fire licking, caressing each womanly curve.

  He stopped, uncertain he might trust what his eyes revealed. Still, she beguiled him with her velvety voice.

  “My Dragon,” she called, her arms outstretched to him.

  Unable to keep from going to her, Drake closed the distance between them, letting her pull him into her world of fire. He knew then, he’d walk through the pits of hell itself to be with this woman. Nothing, no one, could stop him. He could not stop even if he wished to.

  He looked into her eyes and saw that she, too, understood this fact. A slow smile curved her rose-tinted lips as she unraveled her braid, casting the violet ribbon around his neck and pulling him closer.

  “You are my Dragon. You are my power.”

  “Aye,” he whispered hoarsely, the heat that enveloped Cailin seeping into him like mulled wine: warm, smooth, yet fiercely intoxicating. He kissed the smile that beckoned him, the smile that bound him to her like chains. The passion between them fueled the fire, the flames hissing to life, consuming the two lovers in its blaze.

  Never had he needed a woman more.

  Drake’s hands slid beneath her tunic, then down the curve of her soft behind. Her trousers slid to the ground and she stepped from them as her fingers quickly freed him from his own. He gently lifted her and her legs wrapped about his waist. He found her moist and wet, ready for him to fill her, their need now one and the same.

  Bracing Cailin against a stack of grain sacks, Drake drove deep into her, a bittersweet agony overwhelming him. A firestorm burst inside of him, pushing him beyond the realm of passion and desire as he plunged into another world … her world.

  Never had he loved a woman more.

  BJORN RAN HIS FINGER over the curve of Thyra’s hip, his touch bringing a contented sigh from her. She licked her lips to relieve the chapped flesh, their lovemaking had bordered on frenzied for the past hour. He studied the dark pools beneath her half-closed lids, idly kissing the flesh his hands caressed, content for the moment to watch the heat build inside her once again.

  “You, my love, are insatiable,” she cooed and tried to move away from him. “I should go, before someone hears us.”

  He grunted in reply and pulled her back to him beside the fire. “I’m tired of sneaking around. I’ll not be denied your company at my whim.”

  Her eyebrow arched at his comment, a sly smile curved her reddened lips. “Your whims,” she drawled, “would keep me at your hungry cock’s beck and call night and day … perhaps I do not wish it so.”

  A deep chuckle rumbled from Bjorn’s chest as he thrust his hand between her warm thighs, teasing her moist center, making her forget her words of protest. “You are such a liar, my sweet. You would be content to sate my hunger dawn to dusk, never turning cold beneath my touch.”

  Thyra’s dark eyes narrowed but she did not deny his words. “Patience, my love. When you are jarl, we shall rule together and never be parted. You shall be rid of your father’s overbearing shadow once and for all.”

  Bjorn pulled away, his mood turning serious. “We must be careful; he must not die too soon after Axell’s death. It would raise suspicion.”

  “None would dare accuse us.” Thyra shrugged, as if caution was unnecessary. “He is old and my poisons are unknown by any here. Nothing can be proved.”

  This prompted another grunt from Bjorn. He sat up and broke bits of kindling, hurling them into the fire, looking worried. “What of that witch Cailin? What of her visions? They cannot be proven either, yet Ragnald listens.”

  Thyra moved close, smoothed his wrinkled brow and placated him with the words he needed to hear. “She sees nothing, her accusations are ridiculous. Besides, no one can succeed at walking thirteen paces on hot iron.”

  “What if she does?”

  “Then I shall make certain she does not survive her burns. When they remove her bandages, her wounds will be putrid. I’m afraid the poor dear will die, her feet w
ill be so badly infected. Even Freyja herself could not survive what I have I store for the bitch. She will die, and in horrid agony. Everyone will forget her words then, forget she even came here.”

  “My father will remember.” Bjorn shook his head, still unconvinced.

  “It will not matter when she is dead.”

  “It is said she weaves her dreams into tapestries — she even gave one of her creations to my father years ago. She was but a child, but I still remember his look when he saw it. No, he believes her a true seer. Unlike the charlatan you are, Thyra, my dear.”

  She pouted at his words. “I may not be a Dream Weaver, but I am the one who gave you the courage and means to rid yourself of your elder brother, right enough. Do not forget that, my dear.”

  “Of course I won’t,” he consoled her, kissing her pouty lower lip. “You and I were meant for one another … soul mates for life … united forever by our dark deeds.”

  “Mmmm,” Thyra purred in contentment.

  “It seems, woman,” Bjorn buried his head against her shoulder and whispered into her ear, “I find I have a great hunger once again.”

  THE WOMAN’S GIGGLES FOLLOWED Ragnald down the long hall. His son’s betraying words and his whore’s inference caused bile to burn his throat. Rage swarmed through him with such ferocity he came close to barging in on the two lovers and ending their depraved plans right then and there with the sword he clutched in his hands.

  Still shaking, Ragnald sheathed the blade. No, he must test his son, discover if Bjorn was truly so twisted and full of evil that he would see Cailin murdered by this bitch Thyra whom he called soul-mate. Despite hearing all, their roles in Axell’s murder clear, as a grieving father desperate to save his only son, he felt he must give Bjorn one last chance to confess and repent.

  DRAKE ROUSED FROM A deep sleep, stretching to relieve the dull ache in his muscles. When he moved he woke Cailin, who lay with her head curled in the cradle of his arm.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, early morning light revealing darkened eyes, still hazy with sleep. The smile that claimed her mouth moved to her eyes, a gleam of happiness and love softening them to a mulled purple hue.