The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island)

by Mary Gillgannon

  His sense of unease increased. It was as if the forest conspired to make him lose his way. Ridiculous. A patch of woodland couldn’t reason or plan. Holding out his hands, he started forward, determined not to give in to his growing sense of alarm. His progress was painfully slow. He must first determine the size and location of the trees and bushes ahead of him, then climb over them or go around. It was terrifying to feel like a blind man. His heart beat faster and faster and his skin grew clammy with sweat. Where would he be when he finally reached the end of the mist?

  His body trembled with the strain of moving so slowly. By the gods, what was happening? He’d never feared magic or sorcery. He had memories of his mother telling him about the old gods, the powerful ancient forces that governed the land, but he’d dismissed them as he had all the other deities he’d heard of in his travels. Now he wondered if there was not more to her tales than he’d guessed.

  He could feel some sort of power here, an almost palpable force. It felt as if he were at the whim at that force, as helpless as if he were in slave shackles with armed guards surrounding him. Was this spirit of the woods merely toying with him or did it have a purpose? So far, all he could be certain of was that he was hopelessly lost.

  Anger surged through him and he moved forward. He refused to cower before this unseen presence. If it struck him down, so be it!

  The ground sloped steadily downward. He must reach the bottom eventually. Unless he’d entered some other realm. Again, he experienced a sense of foreboding. Did the bewitchery of this place have anything to do with Queen Dessia? A ruler and their land were often connected. Bridei had heard of rituals where a king symbolically mated with the earth goddess to ensure his land’s fertility. And darker rites where a king was sacrificed to rid the land of a curse.

  Despite himself, Bridei shivered. For all his exertions, he felt cold. What was this place? He struggled forward, not knowing what else to do. At last, he reached level ground. A few steps further and the mist began to thin. He was in a kind of valley, and through the autumn woods he could see a lake. It glistened in the soft morning light like a vast moonstone.

  He walked toward the lake, feeling both relieved and awed. If sorcery had brought him here, then it must be a benevolent force, to guide him to such a beautiful place. As he approached the lake, he saw something that reinforced his sense of good fortune. There, in an open area near the edge of the water, was his quarry—the lovely Queen Dessia.

  Chapter 5

  At first he couldn’t make out what the queen was doing, with her sword drawn and her shield at the ready. Then he decided she must be training herself in weaponry. She parried and lunged, as if engaging an invisible opponent. The intensity of her efforts amazed him. Her face was flushed and her expression and movements bespoke desperate concentration, as if she fought for her very life. He wondered if she did battle against some terrifying but invisible enemy. If she were in danger, how could he aid her? He had no weapon. Even if he did, he could hardly engage a foe he couldn’t see.

  But perhaps she didn’t need his help. Her movements were rapid and precise and she wielded the heavy weapon with remarkable strength. Who would have guessed a woman could appear so formidable? And yet for all her ferocity she remained the essence of grace and femininity, the lines of her body as elegant as the curving patterns on a brooch fashioned by a master craftsman.

  She seemed to be driving her opponent back. Back and back. Her enemy appeared to surrender. She held out her sword as if the tip touched her unseen opponent’s throat, forcing them to beg for mercy. Bridei was filled with satisfaction at the sight of her evident triumph. Although he was certain by now that her adversary was imaginary, it still pleased him to see her prevail. He clapped his hands in approval. “Well done, lady.”

  At the sound of his voice, Queen Dessia whirled around. Her green eyes met his, brilliant with shock. Then her expression grew hard. “What are you doing here? How dare you . . .” Her voice trailed off and she glanced around in obvious dismay.

  “I saw you leave the rath and followed.”

  “But the forest . . .” She shook her head in confusion. Clearly, she hadn’t expected the forces guarding the woods to allow him to pass. Encouraged, he drew nearer. The men’s clothing she wore emphasized her femininity, accentuating the narrowness of her waist, the delicacy of her wrists and hands, the slenderness of her neck. She was garbed as a warrior, but all he could see was her womanliness, her vulnerability.

  As he drew nearer, she raised her sword in a threatening gesture and sprang into a fighting stance. “You’ll come no closer.”

  “I’m not your servant to command.”

  He could tell his response infuriated her. But beneath the anger was fear. He gestured, feigning amazement. “You would use your weapon on an unarmed opponent? That would hardly be honorable.”

  She let out a hiss of rage. “Come no closer.”

  He moved slowly, deliberately, nearer. Her expression grew furious, then desperate. For all her ruthlessness in mock combat, he wondered if she’d ever engaged in real battle, ever injured or killed anyone. He paused a few paces away and held her gaze. The strain was beginning to wear on her. Her hand holding the sword had begun to tremble. Observing that sign of weakness, he moved into action, sweeping past her right side before she could bring the sword around. She tried to turn but he was already behind her. He grabbed her around the waist and pinned her arms against her body.

  She writhed and twisted, struggling to get away. But she was untrained in this sort of close combat and not as strong as he was. When she paused for breath, he grabbed her right wrist and twisted until she dropped the sword.

  She let out a scream of outrage and flailed and fought some more. But trapped as she was, her body tight against his, she was unable reach his face or strike a blow. After a time, she stopped struggling and Bridei allowed himself to enjoy the intimacy of their position. Her firm buttocks pressed against his groin. The soft swell of her breasts pressed into his forearm. A violent wave of lust surged through him and he thought she must surely feel his erection hard against her bottom.

  But mixed with his arousal was a touch of pity. How defeated and helpless she must feel at being trapped in his arms. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm. Clearly, she was furious with herself for letting this happen. She hadn’t truly believed he would lay hands on her. Otherwise, she would have fought much harder.

  That was his advantage, and he had pressed it. Even now, he didn’t think she wished to be away from him. While her mind told her to fight, her body was perfectly willing to surrender. He had the knowledge and the skill to tip the balance so she would yield. But he also knew that even subtle coercion was risky. If he took advantage of her vulnerability, this haughty queen could end up hating him. He might ease his lust, but it would be at the cost of the ultimate prize.

  Knowing this, he allowed himself one last moment to savor the feel of her against him. To inhale her scent, so tantalizing and provocative. Then he released her and stepped back. “Never underestimate your opponent,” he said. “You thought because I was unarmed, you could easily best me. But in very close combat, weapons aren’t as important as cunning and speed.”

  She didn’t move, but remained facing away from him. Bridei wondered if she would retrieve her sword and attack him. If she were really angry, she could certainly do some damage. At last she turned around. Her green gaze met his, flaring with anger and despair. “Teach me,” she said. “Teach me how to do what you did.”

  Bridei couldn’t help smiling. “There’s nothing to teach. Having experienced the maneuver once, I’m certain you won’t allow it to happen again. And if I’d been a real threat, you wouldn’t have left yourself open in the first place. I had the advantage because you didn’t truly see me as the enemy. I’m certain you would do much better if your life were at stake. But you knew I wasn’t a man to fear.”

  Her eyes widened, then she frowned in dismay. Her
expression said clearly, Oh, but I do fear you, more than you know.

  Struggling not to reveal his triumph, Bridei said, “I’ll give you a bit of advice. If a man should ever grab you from behind and hold you as I did, there are things you can do to get away, instead of flailing about like a hare in a trap.”

  The comparison made her flush with anger. Oh, this woman was proud, almost desperately so.

  “Here. I’ll show you.” He drew near and pulled her into his arms once more. This time she didn’t struggle, partly because she was expecting it, but also, he thought, because the feel of him holding her didn’t displease her. This way she could yield to her body’s urgings without being humiliated.

  “There are several things you can do,” he said. “You could stomp on my foot, hard on the instep. Or you could jerk your head back and hit me in the face with your skull. Both moves would cause me significant pain, enough that I might release you. But you can’t hold back. You must do as much damage as you can, as quickly as possible.” He released her again. This approach might prove to be quite effective. Get her used to the sensation of having him close, then withdraw. Her body would come to yearn for the feel of his.

  “Now if a man grabs you from the front, there are other strategies.” He turned her around to face him and held her tightly by the arms. “When positioned like this, you can try to stomp on my foot, but it’s probably easier for you to bring your knee into my groin and hurt me that way.” He held her gaze at he said this. Let her think about his groin, what that meant in another connotation. “But again, you can’t make the assault half-hearted, or think to spare your opponent serious injury. If you hurt your attacker this way, yet fail to disable him, he’s likely to fly into a rage and kill you.”

  He let go of her arms and stepped back. “Women are easy to kill. A powerful blow to a female’s fragile skull and she is finished. Or, a man can snap her neck as a panther kills a deer. He doesn’t have to be bigger than the woman, only stronger. And most men are stronger than most females. You’re not a small woman. Nor I a particularly large man. Yet, on pure strength alone, I would prevail.”

  “Unless I had a weapon,” she said.

  He smiled. “As long as you managed to keep hold of that weapon. And as long as your opponent wasn’t more skilled than you are.” He gestured. “You come here, thinking to train on your own, but if you truly wish to learn the art of swordplay, you should engage with a real opponent, not an imaginary one.”

  “That’s not why I come here,” she said coldly. “I do train on the practice ground with my men, and I’ve taught them not to hold back when they fight me.”

  “Have you ever seen real combat?”

  “Of course!” Her eyes flashed with affront. “How do you think I regained my lands?”

  “Most women don’t fight their own battles, queen or no. I’m impressed you risk your own life for your cause.”

  “It’s been a few years since I’ve done so,” she admitted. “My men have handled the skirmishes and raids since I’ve regained Cahermara.”

  Bridei thought he saw a shadow cross her face. “Why do you come here if it isn’t to train for battle?” He looked around, taking in the mystical beauty of the lake. “Do you seek out this place to practice your magic?

  For a time she didn’t answer, then she spoke abruptly. “Why did you come here? Why follow me?” Her tone was aggressive, accusatory. She was back to her role of a queen addressing her disobedient subject.

  “I don’t think that’s the real question—is it?” He cocked his head in bemusement. “I think the real question is how I managed to breach the barrier of enchantment you’ve set upon this place.”

  “I’ve set up no barrier, conjured no spell . . .”

  “Nay?” He raised his brows. “Can you tell me honestly that there isn’t some force guarding this place? That the mist that rose up and surrounded me was a normal one?”

  Dessia struggled to form a response. Should she take credit for something that was not her doing? Would telling him she’d worked a spell make this man have a little more respect for her? She doubted it. It seemed nothing discouraged Bridei ap Maelgwn. What an insolent, aggravating man. To think he’d dared to lay hands on her. Held her against his body, tight as a lover’s embrace. She’d clearly felt his arousal, and she couldn’t seem to push the memory away.

  “Perhaps the forces here don’t answer to your command,” he said, “but have their own purpose. If that’s so, then you must consider that whatever bewitchment surrounds this place allowed me to pass. Clearly, we were meant to meet here.” He smiled again, that mocking, bedeviling smile. “Perhaps this is a warning to you. A reminder that your defenses can be breached.”

  She couldn’t keep the irritation from her voice. “You haven’t told me why you chose to come here. Why follow me? I thought things were settled between us. I told you my terms and you agreed. I need workmen to build the walls of Cahermara. That is the only capacity in which I’ll allow you to remain on my lands.”

  “So you said. But that was before I followed you to this place. Before you realized I’m no ordinary man, to be set to breaking rocks all day. I didn’t speak of this before, in the hall where anyone might be listening, but I, too, know a little of sorcery.” His blue eyes glinted like those of a small boy sharing a secret. “Indeed, that’s the real reason I survived my entanglement with the slavers. One of them was going to kill me, but I called down a curse on him and his companions. A great storm arose, the high waves and fierce winds nearly swamping the boat.”

  Dessia sniffed in disbelief. “If you called down a storm, how did you know the wind and waves wouldn’t send you to the bottom of the sea along with your captors?”

  He smiled ruefully. “I had no way of being certain I would survive, but it seemed I had a better chance with the weather than with the slavers, who intended to slit my throat and throw me overboard. And as violent as it was, the storm didn’t last long. Only long enough to carry the vessel off course. Which is why I’m here. The sea gods brought me to the shores of your lands. Surely that means the deities wished for us to meet, that there’s some great purpose the two of us share.”

  The conceit of this man! To imply he knew the will of the gods! Yet despite her resentment, Dessia couldn’t altogether suppress the shocking awareness that she’d begun to think the same thing. She recalled her reaction when she first saw Bridei, the sense she knew him somehow. Then there was the strange vision she’d had while talking to him in the hall. Even more unsettling was the fact that he’d surprised her here, in a place where she’d been so certain she would be left alone.

  No one else had ever followed her to the lake. The people of her lands might enter the very edges of the woods for hunting, to gather firewood and to allow their livestock to forage, but as far as she knew, they never dared venture this deep into the Forest of Mist. This place was said to belong to the Ancient Ones, the fairy folk, and few were willing to risk an encounter with beings from the Otherworld.

  Of course, this man didn’t know the old tales, which was why he wasn’t afraid to come here. But still, how had he gotten past the mist? She was used to it by now, and only experienced a brief moment of apprehension when the pale, formless vapor enveloped her. But for someone who’d never experienced the sensation of fumbling blindly in an unknown, sheet-white realm, it should have been terrifying enough to send him fleeing for his life.

  But little seemed to trouble this man. He was so sure of himself, so maddening cool-headed and smug. Even now he watched her with that lazy smile, as if he didn’t care what she thought. Nothing seemed to affect him. Nothing reached him. Was it because he knew he could always call upon his own magical abilities for protection?

  The idea intrigued her. Did this man possess the secrets she sought, the means of defeating her enemies once and for all? To find out, she must risk that he would discover what a fraud she was. Without her reputation for magic, she was desperately vulnerable. If her enemies ever lear
ned she wasn’t truly a sorceress, the Fionnlairaos were doomed.

  A terrible risk, and yet ... if this man could really call down a storm, then she very much needed him on her side. If she ordered him back to the menial labor of breaking and carrying rocks, he might decide to move on and end up offering up his services to one of her enemies. She couldn’t allow that to happen. From the first, it seemed as if fate had brought this man to her household. As much as she feared him, she dare not risk sending him away.

  “It’s agreed,” she said. “I’ll share my secrets with you, if you will share yours with me. I would like to learn how to call down a storm, to curse my enemies by the forces of sea and sky.”

  “And what, in turn, will you offer me?” he asked. “What magic do you know?”

  She took a deep breath. “I’ve worked a spell of protection around Cahermara. As long as it remains intact, the rath can’t be taken.”

  “And you will tell me how you did this?”

  What could she say? She must make him think her powers were real. She nodded. “I’ll show you the spell.” She could come up with some pretense of magic. But if he were truly a sorcerer, he might realize it was all a bluff.

  “What now?” he asked. “Shall we go back to the rath? Or do you want to stay here? It’s certainly a beautiful place.” He glanced at the lake, a vague smile touching his lips. “A pity we didn’t bring any food. This would be a lovely spot in which to break our morning fast. Next time we come, we should bring some provisions.”