Dagmar and Aila took the first watch amid protests from their people. They sent their tired group of to bed and stood, keeping a close watch for shadows around the edges of the fire, not a bright blot in the distance.
The wind had picked up and she shivered. His arm came around her and he said, “I am proud of you. You are a ruler and I’m sorry it took me so long to see that. It was my pride, I suppose, that couldn’t let me see you for the ruler you could be, in the beginning, and I know I was cruel to you then, and after too.”
She said, “I was the same. All I could see was your faults because I was so intent on ruling I was sure nobody else could rule as well as I could.”
“I think we do rather well together.” His chin rested on the top of her head and she smiled softly. “I think perhaps it was always meant for the two of us to rule together. We both have our strengths and weaknesses, and together we complete each other and shore up the things each lack.”
“We do. Perhaps that’s the best part of what we have. It strengthens us.”
The sky grew darker. Aila said, “I wish I could see what they were doing.”
Dagmar said, “I bet they wish the same.”
She said, “I’m sure. They’re used to taking lands, you can see it in their faces.”
He nodded. “I know. But they won’t take ours, not without a fight. We won’t give up until we’re dead, and gone and we’ll die knowing we made it possible for ours to be safe and strong enough to fight them when the time comes.”
“It’s not a bad legacy.”
Her words held a catch. His arm draped over her shoulder and his fingers brushed against the top of her breasts. “No, it isn’t. Good rulers make history far less often then bad ones, have you ever noticed that?”
“I think it might be time to change that.”
Her face turned back to his. Their eyes met and passion flared up. Heat flushed all along her body, leaving her wet and aching. “What do you think that they will say about us?”
“That we fought each other, and then we fought the Romans. That we loved and lived as fiercely as we loved. What else could they say about us?”
Her heart ached. The smoke blew up into the air, bringing the scent of fresh sap and the remainder of the smell of the men who’d burned into glory in the flames. “Aye, indeed what else could they say?”
They sat silently until the others woke and took their places at the rocky point. Hand-in-hand they strolled to the place they had chosen to sleep, a small flat area filled with heavy moss and crushed flowers. It was cool and Dagmar cuddled her close, his fingers sliding along her hips under her own tunic.
Pleasure erupted along her skin. Their lips met in a long and lingering kiss. There was a bittersweet feeling to it as he lifted her leg and pulled it over his hip. Side by side and facing each other he thrust deep into her heated flesh, bringing the full weight and thickness of his member into her body while her fingers clutched his shoulders and their mouths met again and fused together. Overhead a single falling star blazed across the ebony canopy of the sky, and she wondered if that were an omen, and if so if it meant that this was the last night they had to together. That they would fall come morning.
His hips worked harder and his fingers slid lower until they found the throbbing ridge of her clit. He massaged it, taking her to the brink of an orgasm before sending her over it, her body going rigid and relaxing as his heavy and hot flesh met and parted hers.
Her fingers clutched at his strong shoulders and everything else faded away before the ultimate pleasure he gave her. Her body moved slowly against his, grinding and thrusting as he came too, his hot seed splashing into her depths and splattering her oiled inner walls.
They lay there, not speaking for a long time. Neither could sleep, and Aila wondered if he, like she, was afraid that if she slept she would miss the last few precious hours and minutes of their lives together. The steady beat of his heart banged against her breast and he stayed within her even though he had gone flaccid.
The rosy streaked fingers of a new dawn eventually showed in the lightening sky. Dagmar kissed her again, sweetly. She sighed and closed her eyes. Who would have imagined that this was how they’d end up, united not just as lovers and rules but as two people who truly loved and respected each other?
The callousness of their youth was gone. They were older and wiser, and they had learned so much with and from each other.
Breslin spoke from a respectful distance. “We should get ready.”
His voice was gruff and low. The lovers separated and Dagmar stood, pulling his tunic down before helping her to her feet. He asked, “Is there any sign?”
Breslin nodded grimly. “They’ve begun gathering themselves and are trying to make their way past the burning. It won’t be long before they decide their only way past it is to the east, they’ll be moving by the time dawn leaves the sky.”
Ragnic spoke as well. “I saw many injuries in their ranks. Some not severe, and a few that were. They killed them. The wounded that could not go on I mean. They are walking through the ranks killing all who can’t go forward.”
There was incredulity in his voice. Aila understood why. Their own wounded had been dragged and carried from those trees and while some could no longer fight they would still be cared for. Murdering them for being injured was unthinkable.
“Savages,” she muttered.
Breslin said, “Aye, and brutal too. To kill men who’d stood by your side in a fight…It’s wrong. The gods will not take lightly to that either.”
“They don’t worship our gods, “Aila said softly. “We’ve no idea what they worship.”
“It’s too bad we don’t,” Ragnic said, “It’s said that a god can terrify a man into surrendering all.”
Aila nodded. “So, we need to get behind them without them seeing up but the land’s too open for a few miles.”
She chafed at that. Breslin said, “I think we get through the meadows as fast as possible, and now before they move,
then take the ridges. We’ll be above but out of sight, and we could use that as an advantage too. Our bows can take them and the height, like the tree heights, would make it almost impossible for them to hit our bows with arrows of their own. That will leave them crowding together, and harried.”
“The gods,” Dagmar said.
Aila frowned. “What?”
He smiled. “We don’t know what gods they worship but whatever gods they have, they must have some sort of powers. Yesterday, when you made the wind and ice they were afraid but they kept coming. They kept coming because they were more afraid of their leaders than you. In their faces I could see they wanted to stop, that they feared something unnatural like that, but they feared their leaders more still. What if we give them something much more frightening than their leaders to fear?”
Aila asked, “What do you mean?”
His grin got wider. “The rocks. If we stay behind the largest stones we could rain the heavy ones in front of the ridge down on them. The largest stones could crush many there in the spot where the hills form a neck. They’d have to push toward the bog then. If they thought their god was angry and raining down those things it might be enough to make them break and run.”
Ragnic said, “They’d think this land was unholy.”
Dagmar nodded, “Aye. Then all we would have is perhaps a third of their ranks to deal with. We have enough arrows and swords to decide a battle, even if it is not in our favor, but if the soldiers are already frightened and worried that the gods they favor do not favor them we’d probably defeat them.”
Aila said, “That’s a brilliant plan.”
He nodded. “You should we could disguise ourselves with nature. We must, and we must do so quickly. That blue paste we make to color our faces during ceremonies, is there enough here to make it?”
Ragnic said, “But of course.”
Dagmar smiled. “Then let’s do it. Hurry, we have a very little time to prepare. Everyone, eat wel
l of what we have. We need our strength and, gods willing, by tonight we’ll at least be able to hunt down food.”
They all went to work. Aila set to making the thick blue paste out of a few handfuls of crushed berries, a scoop of mineral-laden earth, and water.
They painted their faces and arms, drawing on the symbols and signs of the old ways. They adorned their heads with leaves and covered their bodies with brown earth to further disguise themselves. The swords were hidden in their tunics to keep the enemy from seeing them shining in the sun, and then they were ready.
They headed toward the high ridges, leaving Ragnic with the worst wounded and instructions for him to take them to the high caves in the tall hills far to the west. He hadn’t wanted to stay behind but he would, and so would those too gravely wounded to do more than make it to those caves.
There were caches of food in the caves as they were used for hunting parties and to make camps there, and nearby water. They could survive there if they were careful and lucky, and Aila hoped that they were both as they parted ways.
They climbed the hills, staying low. The Romans had indeed headed east as they’d hoped they would. They were marching two by two between the high ridge and Aila took a long breath at the sheer number of them.
Even after the battle of the day before there were so many!
Dagmar and the others began testing the boulders. They found the ones most likely to tumble and then, in unison, they sent nearly two dozen large and crushing boulders down the ridge toward the soldiers.
There was nowhere for them to go. The hills closed in on either side of the little pass. They were pinned in place by the men behind and before them and the cries were terrible as death rolled toward them and took them.
“Up the hill,” the commander shouted.
“There’s nobody there!” The cry came from a man who was near the end of the line of bloody boulders. “There’s nobody Sir! It must have been a natural thing!”
The ones behind could not easily pass by the crushed and broken bodies nor the boulders. The men had to move them to get the way clear.
Just as they finished the herculean task the Picts rained down another two dozen from the shifting soil at the top of the hill being careful to stay low and hidden as they did so.
More Romans died. None of them dared peek over at to look to see the damage, they put their backs against the stones and listened intently. The Romans had to struggle to remove the boulders again in order to get past them and the sun was climbing higher the entire time.
Dagmar waited until they could hear the sound of the soldiers marching and then he said, “Softly now.”
They moved slowly, hiding behind the rocks and crouching low. Aila’s thighs ached from the exertion and sweat ran down her face, heavily caked with the paste. The sun climbed again and hawks and carrion birds circled overhead then dove toward the Roman dead. Her stomach churned but she stayed silent.
War. It was inevitable. She’d known that, her whole life she had known that and they had seen it before but never like this and she was already sickened and weary of it.
There’d be more.
That thought clung to her and settled into her bones.
These Romans, they were not capable of walking away from this. They were driven to claim the lands that were Pictland, and they wouldn’t stop.
They outnumbered the Picts by a large number, and that would always be so, but they were never going to simply come onto the land and take, not if she could help it.
And she’d never be easy about it. She’d never go gladly into the battle like some would. She would always be saddened and disgusted by the death and the waste of it all.
Those men down there were her enemies yes, but they were humans, and she had been raised to believe life was sacred.
But she’d also been raised by people who believed in battling for what they had to battle for. And what she had to battle for was her people, and the lives that they would lead her on this land.
The Romans headed for the bog at the end. Dagmar whispered, “Can you send just a little cold down?”
She bit her lips. “I can try.”
The small wind she brought up was icy. It whipped down on the Romans from the hills. They grew nervous and began to break ranks, moving closer together as they neared the bog. Aila could see that her people had climbed the hill to skirt the bog, and she knew that if she could see that Romans would notice it too. She hoped by the time that they did it would be too late.
They would come up the hill soon, and there they would fight them, but they needed to cut their numbers before that happened.
She followed the freezing wind with a heated one.
The soldiers grew even more nervous and they walked faster. The bog, covered by a deceptive layer of bright yellow flowers and emerald green grasses, gave way under their weight.
Dozens of men sank. They thrashed and screamed. The bog could be gotten out of, but only if one stood very still and was helped out by others. Those marching from behind pushed the ones nearest the front further into the bog and when they realized what was happening many had already been sucked into the deadly mud below the surface.
It was time. They drew their bows and began to rain down arrows. Aila sent a few down, making sure to use each one wisely. They’d likely not be able to retrieve them, and each arrow had to count as there were no more.
The Romans stared upward at the blue-coated people on the hills. Boulders, arrows, and spears sent death into their midst and Aila decided to add a little more to the mix. Rain flashed up and soaked the soldiers below. Confused, unsure of which way to go and facing certain death they stood still for precious moments, and it was all that the Picts needed.
The Romans eventually charged up the hill. But they were defeated before they ever started. Aila sent a vicious wind at them, one so strong it toppled many of them back into the bog and the ground around it.
Those that made it up the hill died at the end of the swords and arrows that they wielded. The sky turned dark, and Aila sensed a storm brewing, one not of her making. Thunder rumbled and the ground shook with the force of it.
The Romans broke and ran. They watched them go through the thick curtains of rain that fell from the sky. Aila lifted her head and let the water sluice over her body and face and wash away the gore and fear.
Dagmar came to where she stood. His arms held her close and she buried her face in his chest and she inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill her nostrils and steady her.
The storm stopped abruptly. She stepped back and said, “They aren’t going to stay gone.”
He nodded. “I know. We can’t go back to Hail. There’s too many Romans who will come and who know that is where we are. It’s too open, and too near the points where they can and will enter our lands.”
Sorrow filled her. Not go back to the Hail? To their land and the things that they had built there? They’d have to start over. They had fewer hands now, and many were wounded. Summer had already begun, and there would be much to gather and store before the winter stormed in, and they had no shelter to speak of either.
The Romans would come back though, and they would go straight to Hail, expecting to find them there.
She nodded, “As you say. You lead, and we will all follow Dagmar.”
His eyes lit up. His hand took hers. “We’ll lead. Come on, let’s go find out daughter and the others.”
Aila said, “Send whatever runner we have that is capable to tell Ragnic we need him to bring the men to the camp our people made.”
He said, “I’m afraid you’re the only one fast enough to do that.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to leave him, not now, but it was the best thing to do. She nodded. “It will take a day at least with the wounded.”
He nodded. “We won’t leave without you.”
“Oh you’d better not.” Her eyes sparkled and she gave him a deep kiss then stepped back. “I’ll see you soon my darling.”
> She started toward the west and the caves with hope growing anew.
**
It was a weary and battered group that limped into the camp that their people had set up. The wounded were immediately taken to the rudimentary shelters that had been built and Aila sat down gratefully in front of a large fire and accepted a large chunk of meat, still warm, and a few roasted roots and herbs.
Dagmar sat beside her, his arm draped over her. Neither spoke for a long time. When her appetite was sated he said, “We have to call a meeting of our people Aila. We can’t stay here, there’s not enough game or grains growing nearby and we’re still too close to the Romans.”
She nodded. “The ones we defeated have larger numbers behind them. I could see smoke in Hail, enough to tell me that they have taken it for their own.”
He sighed, “Hail’s gone now. But we will have a new home.”
They would. Her hand found his and she said, “We always have a home. I have a home in you, and you have a home in me.”
Ceana came running, her little face alight with joy. Aila clutched her close and ran her fingers over the child’s hair. She whispered, “I love you little one. I am so glad to see you.”
Ceana leaned back and said, “I’m glad to see you too Mama.”
She snuggled into Aila’s arms and Dagmar embraced them both. The fire cast heavy shadows across his face and she studied it, seeing the new strength and weariness carved into his flesh. There were fresh lines around his eyes and mouth, and there was an air of wisdom and experience about him that had been there before, but still growing.
He’d become more than the man their people needed. He’d become a wise and mature ruler, one who put the needs and lives of his people before his own.
She took a long breath as the others gathered and Dagmar said, “We must move. We can’t go back to Hail. The Romans hold it now.”
Desired By The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 2) Page 38
