With Dragons She Walks

by Darby, Brit

  “Ahhh, no,” Cailin forced herself not to look away from his direct stare. “You are the smart one, sir. I’m certain you always profit well from your ventures.”

  He preened at her compliment. “I insist you call me Kasimir. And I do well enough.”

  “Kasimir.” Cailin forced another smile to her lips. “I am Cailin. I assume we will add to your profits soon. Are Nedaxe and I to be sold as slaves, or do you have other intentions for us?”

  He seemed to give her questions some thought before replying. “We shall see.” He studied her keenly. “I am curious why Yosef was so anxious to get rid of you, yet feared killing you. It was clear from his expression that there is more to the tale than he told.”

  Before she said anything more, Kasimir asked his own question. “So why are you not frightened, little beauty? You should be more frightened.”

  Cailin wondered how much she could or should cajole the man. “I don’t know. Perhaps I simply don’t find you frightening.”

  “You cut me to the core,” he joked with added melodramatic flair, clutching his heart.

  “I am too tired to be afraid. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  His smile widened. “Ahhh, I like that you show humor, rather than female hysterics.”

  “I have endured much of late. I went down with a burning ship and lost my …”

  “Yes?” he spurred when she did not continue. “What has my dear lady lost?”

  “My husband.”

  In her heart, Cailin believed Drake was alive, but her soft, heartbroken words seemed to touch the pirate deeply. She saw it in his eyes, on his face. He made no attempt to hide it.

  She blinked back tears. “I don’t know if he yet lives. But we are lost to one another either way. If he does live, how will he ever find me now?”

  Kasimir tsked and shook his head. “Such a tragic tale, sweet lady. Tell me, do you love your husband?”

  “Why would it matter to a pirate whether I love him or not?”

  His look turned serious, thoughtful. “Yes, I am a pirate, a thief, a murderer, and worse. I drink and whore my days away, and spend my nights plundering and killing with pleasure. I do not pretend to be anything but a scoundrel, worthy of hanging a thousand times over should I be caught. But, I am still a romantic, a man who believes in the love of a good woman. I repeat — do you love him?”

  Just as she was about to answer, he put his hand up. “I will know if you are lying, so do not think to deceive me in such a way.”

  “Though we have not been wed long, yes … Drake has my heart, and my love.”

  Without acknowledging her reply, Kasimir tossed back the last of his drink and stood. “The ride was long. You must rest. Tonight you and the girl shall be my guests. We shall drink and make merry, no?”

  AS HARD AS SHE tried, Cailin couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting shut. It had been a long, hard ride and the luxurious hot bath she was allowed to take now made it difficult to stay awake. Her mind filled with thoughts of Drake and Leo, but she could do nothing but pray they were safe and well.

  Tomorrow she might not be able to claim the same, but for now, all she could do was rest, gather her strength for whatever lay ahead. A smile came unbidden as she thought of their captor, Kasimir. She actually liked the man, despite his brazen cockiness and abhorrent method for earning a living. But then, she herself was descended from a line of people considered in the same vein as pirates, though the old ways were fast becoming a thing of the past.

  A yawn disrupted her thoughts and she snuggled deeper into the soft bedding. She assumed they would make their way south to his ship anchored off the coast on the Black Sea. Kasimir’s crew consisted of Rus, Slav, Franks, even Arabs, a hodgepodge of cultures come together for one purpose: piracy.

  Drowsily, she ruminated upon her latest adventure. What had Yosef meant about stars and fate? She sensed he sought to protect his master by having her removed from Oleg’s care. Nedaxe told her the prince was superstitious; was it possible Yosef believed she intended his master harm? Then why not simply kill her? It made no sense, at least not to her weary mind.

  Before sleep stilled her troubled thoughts, she wondered one last thing … what of her love, Drake? Where was he now, and were they destined never to see each other again?

  Chapter Twenty-five

  “I SEE NO PURPOSE in continuing on to Novgorod.”

  Thyra’s statement brought Gunnar’s head up, distracting him from the map he studied. “I have not asked your opinion, woman.”

  Thyra did not care for his tone, but remained in place despite his angry glare. She was used to volatile men’s temperaments, and this one was her equal in spite and hate. “You have looked for days; Cailin’s dead, Gunnar. It’s time you faced that fact.”

  “She is not dead, I know it. I sense it.”

  Thyra snorted. “If she is not dead, then the woman is obviously a dead walker, sent from Eljundir by the goddess Hel,” she said. “How else did she survive a burning, sinking ship?”

  The suggestion took Gunnar by surprise. Cailin, a dead walker? A trickle of fear roiled through his gut but he shook it off. Instead, he struck Thyra hard across the face, knocking her to the deck. “Be quiet, woman. Say such a thing again and I will cut your tongue from your mouth.”

  Thyra scrambled away from Gunnar and his fists. She had misjudged him — he was insane beyond measure. She had always been able to control men, her beauty and sheer cunning gave her advantage over their physical strength. But Gunnar was beyond her wiles, and she must remember it. His infatuation with Cailin grew stronger by the day, thus her hatred for the other woman built exponentially.

  “You are a fool,” she said, rising and shaking off his assault as if she wiped crumbs from her skirts. She dabbed her bloodied lip on the back of her sleeve, troubled as much by her own actions as his. No matter how he abused her, she came back for more.

  Gunnar said, “We will continue to Novgorod, then south. If I do not catch up with Cailin, I shall find her in Miklagard. She is looking for her father; that is where she will go.”

  “You will go all the way to the Great City? That is beyond crazy!”

  Gunnar slammed his fist down on the ship’s railing and shouted, “It is my ship now and I will do as I please. If it is not to your liking, you can be on your way when we reach port.”

  Thyra looked startled, even contrite in the wake of his outburst. He continued. “If you wish to stay, woman, keep your thoughts to yourself. You know full well my only desire is to find Cailin. Do not be so foolish as to think I shall change my mind just because you are a good fuck. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” she sniped, though meeker than before. “What of her husband?”

  A growl erupted from him. As always, Thyra had ways of cutting deep, even in retreat. Just the reminder of Cailin having married another churned up the hate, the fury, the pain. “I take the thralls to Miklagard.”

  “You would keep them alive?”

  “Ja, the slaver who sold them to Cailin told me he bought them from the mines, but it was Miklagard’s Emperor Leo who sent them there to certain death.”

  “Well, it seems he miscalculated their certain death.”

  Thyra’s sarcasm rolled off Gunnar’s back.

  “I was told the Pict tried to rape the emperor’s consort, a woman called Zoe, thus the reason for their enslavement.”

  Thyra laughed. “Rape? That slut? Even I have heard of Zoe’s hunger for men. To declare that beautiful man tried to rape her is ludicrous; she would have spread her legs for him in a heartbeat. More likely he was smart enough to deny her vulgar invitation.”

  “One whore recognizes another,” he grunted, and Thyra flushed at the insult. Then he snorted with disdain. “You find the Pict beautiful?”

  “I have eyes, Gunnar. He is definitely not hard to look at.”

  “He is a thrall. Even you should have better standards.”

  “From what you say, he hasn’t always worn the collar
. Are you jealous of his beauty?”

  He only snorted again.

  Thyra left him standing at the ship’s prow, her cackle drifting to Gunnar like a knife cutting flesh.

  In his mind he saw them entwined, naked bodies curled into one as they made love. In his head he even heard Cailin’s groans of pleasure, her whispered words of love. The vision of the tattooed Pict embracing his own rightful woman wrenched his gut into a painful knot. He was suddenly aware of the Dreki Logi’s figurehead towering above him, the shadow of a beast’s head reflected on the ship’s deck. He looked up and gazed at the Dragon, reminding him yet again of Cailin. He pounded his fist against the railing in time with his surging bloodlust.

  THE NIGHT WAS FILLED with revelry, the food and wine plenty. Their latest skirmish had not lasted long, the numbers easily overwhelming a small caravan. Kasimir gained an injury to his arm in the fray, but it was treated and seemingly caused him no pain. Cailin knew he had self-medicated with plenty of wine, his mood seemed even lighter than usual, and his hearty laughter rang out above the din of merriment.

  Despite his consumption of the potent red elixir, Kasimir acted the gracious host, as if the women were truly his honored guests and not his captives. Cailin was immensely relieved to find Nedaxe both clean and refreshed as she was. She comforted the girl as best she could about their circumstance, though her words seemed weak and unconvincing. As if he knew she was watching him, Kasimir turned to her. “I wonder, sweet lady, if you will tell me something?”

  Cailin felt curiosity touch her. “I shall do my best.”

  The pirate nodded and one of his men produced a bundle. Cailin knew what it contained and what he held before they were removed from the protective leather. She said nothing when her twin Dragon swords were bared to everyone’s gazes. The heat their presence aroused in her blood scorched her with a familiar, comforting sensation. She was aware Kasimir observed her closely.

  “Yosef said these were your only possessions. You had nothing of value but these two swords. You see,” he carefully pulled one from its scabbard, slowly for effect, “I have never seen such small yet extraordinary weapons, nearly identical. Very beautiful, would you not agree?”

  Kasimir’s dark gaze moved from the sword he held and returned to her, questioning. “Do you play with swords, Cailin?”

  Cailin chose to address Kasimir’s sarcastic remark seriously. “Yes, but I do not play.”

  He gave a guttural outcry of mirth. “You know how to use a sword? Or, perhaps even two?”

  Heat scorched her face, his laughter cutting too deep for her comfort. Others close enough to hear their conversation quieted to listen, curious eyes turning to her. Cailin set her lips. “Master Nagao taught me much, but it is no business of yours.”

  “Nagao, an oriental teacher? How curious.” He paused, thinking on his discovery. “What did your father think of his daughter learning to swordfight?”

  Cailin felt her cheeks burn. Unbidden thoughts of Thorvald’s reaction flashed across her mind. It infuriated her when he had forbidden her to train with Master Nagao, but she felt no guilt or shame when she defied him and went anyway. Years she trained under Master Nagao’s tutelage until his death, in secret from all but one in Hedeby. Only Hulda knew, and of course her great aunt disapproved. Even when she was but a child and played with Lachlan’s toy sword, everyone told her it was wrong; a girl shouldn’t handle weapons, much less enjoy doing so. Well versed in hiding her true self from others, Cailin felt the old defensiveness spring up now.

  “It was more like dancing than fighting.” Immediately, Cailin regretted speaking aloud. Never did she voice how the swords were used, except to Hulda. Never before had she performed her dance for anyone other than Master Nagao.

  “You dance with swords?” Kasimir’s smile widened. “This intrigues me even more, sweet lady.”

  She looked away from his piercing stare. “No, not in the way you think. It is simply a ritual, to learn form and develop skills like balance.”

  Kasimir thought on her answer, but did not look convinced. “Then why have such magnificent weapons made? For this is fine craftsmanship, pure Damascus steel, only done by special request and at great expense.”

  “Oh, the swords are purely decorative.” She reached out and wrapped her hand about one hilt. “See, the hilts are too small, they would be of no use to any man in battle.”

  “True,” he mused, “they are too small for a man to wield.”

  “And why would any woman have need of weapons?” Her inquiry was innocent, though her heart hammered in her breast. If Kasimir took her swords from her, she did not know what she would do.

  “Indeed. They are but toys to play with.” He chuckled and shrugged. “I’d wager they aren’t even sharp.”

  An unexpected anger burst inside of Cailin, his comment provoking her into action. In one swift, fluid motion, she whirled and threw the sword in her right hand at one of his men. The blade thunked into a post right behind him, scratching his cheek as it embedded into wood firmly. A couple drops of blood trickled down his cheek. His startled look alone was priceless.

  “They are sharp enough,” Cailin countered. Everyone gasped, then watched and waited.

  Kasimir broke into laughter and clapped with delight; slowly, others did the same.

  He got up and walked over to remove the sword, as his man dabbed at his bloodied cheek with his shirtsleeve. None expected Kasimir to hurl the sword back at Cailin, but he did and without a blink of the eye, she caught it, mid-air. It spun in her hand and slid back into the scabbard with a hiss.

  The room went silent. None dared move as everyone held their breath. Just as swiftly, Cailin whipped out the sword again and plunged it into the table in front of her with a thud. “I don’t play with swords … I do know how to use them.”

  Everyone waited in tense silence. Kasimir sauntered back to the table where he sat and yanked the sword from the table. Casually, he examined it, testing his thumb on the blade and licking off the bead of blood his inspection caused. “Have you ever thought of becoming a pirate, sweet lady? I think you would make a fierce one.”

  A smile split his face, and a low, belly laugh rumbled up from deep within. Soon the entire room joined him. Then he held up his hand, everyone silenced at his command. “I still would know — do you dance with swords?”

  “No.”

  His face showed disappointment. “I warned you not to lie to me.”

  Cailin closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. The pirate was not to be swayed and she made a decision to reveal something she had never told anyone. Not her father, not even Hulda knew of the extent of her skills, but she no longer had the heart to deny what she knew. What she was.

  “I did not lie. You asked if I dance with swords.”

  “Do you not dance with these?” Kasimir grew impatient, each word rapped out with annoyance.

  “It is much more complicated than that.”

  “No, the question is simple.”

  Cailin sighed and relented. “I dance with Dragons. The swords are merely an instrument of their power.”

  Kasimir looked confused. “Dragons? Like fire-breathing, mythical creatures?”

  The room erupted into laughter, subjecting her to ridicule. But she stood proud, unwilling to let their mirth taint her pride.

  “Perhaps she would honor us with a dance?” someone called out from the rowdy crowd. “Show us how to dance with these make-believe Dragons, or swords, or whatever.”

  The crowd chimed in, many jeering and taunting her to dance for them. As Kasimir waited for her response, Cailin wasn’t certain what she saw in his gaze. He looked as if he pitied her, even regretted his persistence in the matter. “My sweet lady, it seems my curiosity has now put you in a difficult position. It was not my intent. But I would be honored if you would dance for me.”

  She stood unmoving.

  Leaning closer, so only she heard his words, Kasimir added, “Win the crowd and win your freedom.�
��

  When he stepped back and looked into her eyes, she believed him. “Freedom for both Nedaxe and myself?”

  His brow wrinkled, and she thought he would deny her. But he nodded agreement. She had to trust a notorious pirate’s word was good.

  Without further hesitation, Cailin took her swords in hand. There were several men playing instruments and she spoke to them before going into the center of the room, to a space that was cleared for her.

  A soft melody drifted around them, the crowd now silent, as if mesmerized by the beautiful Dragon swords. Cailin listened, letting the sound filter into her mind, taking her time as she stood silent and still. She gripped her Dragons, their heat searing her soul as the rhythm of the music kept beat with her heart.

  “She does nothing.”

  The scathing voice was loud in the room but Cailin did not move or react, she listened only to the Dragons.

  “This is a waste of time.” Someone else snorted in derision.

  CAILIN TOOK A SINGLE step forward and flipped the swords about her hands, once, as if a single-word reply to the malcontent’s snide remark. Her simple movement caused eyes to widen. Cailin ignored the audience and swayed with the music, slowly whirling the swords about her body, the sharp edges barely missing each other in the repetitive, circular movement.

  Slowly and easily, the melody melted around her, through her. The swords sliced the air, over and under and about, her nimble hands controlling the deadly blades as she danced. The deep, intense sound drew her in to a secret world; away from those who watched her.

  The Dragons whispered to her, taking her beyond her surroundings. She no longer saw faces, everyone disappeared from sight; the pure fire of the Dragons consumed her.

  Kasimir watched as Cailin exploded into action, the swords twisted and twirled just as she did. The light reflected off them, glinting and flashing beneath the flames of the many torches. His breath stilled as the danger increased, each move she made death-defying. She released one sword, whirled, and caught it. Another released, higher, faster; each one grasped efficiently by the hilt, avoiding the blade’s cutting edge.