“I thought Svala said that sail wasn’t made by Scandinavians?” Samantha said, only here briefly before she traveled back to her own kingdom and Bjorn. She wanted to be close to the Forest of Memories, where she could move through time more easily if she needed to. “Didn’t she say it was made of some unknown material?”
“That’s right,” Lauren confirmed. “And it wasn’t made in the twenty-first century either.”
“I should have traveled there after I found out it brought Sean and Svala together,” Cybil said. “I might’ve been able to divine something.”
“It is better that you remain by my side right now.” Heidrek slipped his hand into hers. “Did your Celtic gods not say as much? Did they not tell you that we must unify our kingdoms now more than ever and stay close to our loved ones?”
“They did,” Cybil murmured. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not eager to protect my sisters. They’re my loved ones too.” Her eyes met his. “And I feel like I’ve already let one of them down because I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.” She sighed. “And I’m not talking about Erica this time.”
“Shannon knows about everything that has happened, Cybil,” Lauren said. “And she understands why you had to stay here.”
“I hope so,” Cybil whispered.
Matthew took a long swig of ale from his horn and kept scowling. Some might say he should still be in the twenty-first century keeping an eye on Shannon and Emily. Some might say he was sent on a fool’s errand chasing after an enemy who may or may not be playing tricks on him. But how was he not supposed to go after his son? Especially when he finally realized how neglectful he had been recently…or perhaps not so recently in some eyes. Yes, it was because the enemy had cast some sort of spell on him but there was more, and it went further back in time.
“Your Aunt Aella assured us Håkon was with Kjar,” Lauren said softly, her eyes on Matthew, likely sensing his thoughts. “From what I know of her, she wouldn’t lie about that. For that matter, from what I have heard, she will do anything to protect the family.”
Matthew offered a loose, disgruntled nod, polished off his horn, then braced his head in his hands. What Lauren said was true. Aunt Aella would protect her family at all cost. Which made him desperate to hear back from her…to find out where her husband and Håkon were. Over a day ago, she had gone into a self-induced trance at Mt. Galdhøpiggen’s peak to seek out and speak privately with Kjar.
“I can only hope she has answers,” Matthew mumbled. “When even Heidrek’s Thor does not seem to know.” He closed his eyes and struggled against deep-seated agony. “When my dragon cannot even find my son’s dragon. When he is lost to me on all levels.”
Because of the enemy’s dart, he could no longer embrace his dragon, but it still existed, and it had always shared a connection with Håkon. From the first beat of his heart within his mother’s womb. Yet now he sensed only silence. Distance. And there was no greater pain.
“He is not lost to us, Matthew.” Samantha’s gentle hand landed on his shoulder. “We will find him. I promise.”
Matthew grunted, not convinced in the least. All he felt was frustration. Helplessness. Regret. His son needed his father. He had for a long time. And he wasn’t there. While Matthew had his reasons for keeping Håkon at a distance, he wished he had explained it. But he couldn’t. He knew that. Still. He hoped his son wasn’t alone out there somewhere wondering why his father had left him yet again. Why he had been abandoned.
“I leave again soon whether or not we hear from Aunt Aella.” Matthew headed for the door. “And I will not return again until I find my boy.”
It no longer mattered if this was some sort of trick played on them by the enemy. Matthew had checked back in because his king had requested it. He would not do so again.
His steps faltered outside of his former king’s lodge. Naðr Véurr had been in an unnatural slumber since he was cast down by the enemy last summer. His son Bjorn remained convinced his father was in an otherworld of sorts, similar if not the same as the one Matthew and Bjorn had been brought to after they were struck down by the enemy’s dart.
Bjorn finally broke free and embraced his dragon when he and Samantha came together. Would the same rules apply to Matthew? And how could that same premise possibly apply to Naðr? He had found his love long ago.
Matthew frowned at where his thoughts were going. Love. How it might be needed to embrace his dragon again. Or at least a connection with another dragon-shifter. Naturally, this brought his thoughts to Shannon. There was something very unusual about her. Something that had made him cautious from the moment he met her.
It didn’t matter that her name was on his lips when he finally awoke from the strange slumber the dart had caused. Nor did it matter that he had been in a perpetual state of angry need to finally meet her and keep his dragon kin away from her. Mainly Tait.
Yet in the end, Tait didn’t desire her but found his mate in Lauren. Something Matthew could well understand knowing Lauren. He liked her immensely and found a connection with her he hadn’t anticipated. A connection, in fact, to the man he once was before that day.
Before the raid that took his wife and sister.
Determined to drown his misery in more ale, he headed into his lodge only to stop short when he saw who awaited him.
“Hello, Uncle,” Sven said as he sat in front of the fire, whittling on a piece of wood.
He knew why his nephew was here.
Matthew shook his head and poured himself a drink. “You are not coming with me.”
“Yes, I am.” Sven kept his eyes on the wood. “It is too coincidental that Emily and Shannon are missing now. I believe they might be near Håkon. I share a connection with Emily and stand the best chance of finding her. That means finding your son too.”
So Sven thought to join him based on a hunch? Matthew shook his head. He knew Sven was fond of the little girl. Everyone knew. And obviously, the feeling was mutual. Regardless. Liking someone didn’t connect you spiritually or otherwise.
“Does your father know your intentions?” Matthew plunked down in a chair beside him and downed a hearty chug of ale. “Does he even know you’re here?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “And though he is not happy with my decision, he knows he cannot stop me.”
“And Samantha?” Matthew arched his brows. “I just saw her, and she didn’t mention anything about this.”
Bjorn and Sam might not be married yet, but Sven already considered her family.
“She knows,” Sven assured. “And will transport us wherever we need to go.”
Matthew sighed. “You are lying to me, dragon.”
“No.” Sven finally looked at him, the same stubborn determination in his eyes Bjorn often had. “I am merely telling you a truth that has yet to happen.”
Matthew rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head again. He knew full well he couldn’t stop the boy if Sven were indeed determined. He would follow one way or another.
“You better not slow me down.” Matthew took another hearty swig. “I’ll be moving fast.”
“You do not even know what direction you will be moving in,” Sven reminded as he went back to whittling. “But fast is good. I will keep up.”
Matthew eyed Sven. Like Tait, he had watched over the boy all these years as Bjorn kept his distance. He loved him as if he were his own. It sometimes amazed him considering how connected all their dragons were that Bjorn never knew. But then when it came to their children, sometimes dragons were blind. Not any longer, though. Bjorn’s eyes were wide open now, and he and Sven were close. Which meant he would not be pleased that his son was about to journey across difficult lands during winter with a vicious enemy somewhere close by. Yet he knew Bjorn would not stop him if he was determined to go, but instead take pride in his courage.
Matthew was about to take another sip of ale when he heard something. Whispered but garbled words.
Shannon.
But what was she s
aying?
Sven’s hands froze on the piece of wood, and his eyes shot to Matthew. “I just heard her.”
“I did too.” Matthew stood and looked around. “It sounded like Shannon was right here.”
“Not Shannon.” Sven stood as well and spun as if someone were behind him. “I heard Emily.”
“No, it was Shannon,” Matthew muttered as he headed for the door, convinced she must be just outside. “Shannon?”
Nobody was there. All was quiet except for the wind and snow. When he returned, Sven was staring at the fire with a troubled look as he continued whittling away. “Do you sense it, Uncle? How different it feels in here?”
Matthew slowed. Something did feel different. Off. And it was coming from the direction of Sven. He slowly pulled his blade, and narrowed his eyes on the area around his nephew. Nothing was there. Yet...his eyes fell to what Sven had carved out of a piece of driftwood.
Håkon stood on a small boat. At first, Matthew thought it was Svala and Sean’s but no. It was different. As was the sail.
That sail.
He blinked as he drew closer. It seemed he had been mistaken. The figure standing on the boat was not Håkon but a little girl. Emily. And there was another with her. A beautiful woman.
Shannon.
And she was looking right at him with fear and confusion in her eyes.
“Why did you carve that?” Matthew whispered. “Why did you carve her to look at me like that?”
“What do you mean?” Sven glanced at the wood in confusion as he handed it to Matthew. “I carved you a bear to give you strength on your upcoming journey.”
Matthew no sooner blinked and took it than Shannon, Emily, and the boat vanished. Now it was what Sven had claimed. A bear. With its teeth bared and power in its eyes, it was remarkably lifelike. It seemed to challenge him. Dare him. It was, as were all things Sven created, a work of art.
“Thank you, Nephew,” Matthew grunted, touched but at the same time concerned. “This is very well done.”
Sven nodded once before he murmured, “What did you see when you first looked at it?”
He almost shook his head and denied seeing anything but stopped. Sven deserved honesty. So he told him.
“You saw Shannon and Emily?” Sven frowned at the carving. “At the same time I sensed something strange?”
Matthew nodded. “You still feel it, do you not?”
“I do.”
“As do I,” he murmured and again eyed his lodging. “Almost as if they are here, but we cannot see them.”
“Yes,” Sven agreed. “And it is not a good feeling.”
“No.” Matthew went for another drink but stopped. He needed to clear his head. Because as Sven had insinuated, somehow all of this was connected to Håkon. His eyes went to Sven. “What did Emily say?”
“That she could see me.” Sven’s brows pulled together. “That is was nice to see me again.”
“How did she sound?” Matthew said. “Distressed? Happy? Confused?”
“Relieved,” Sven said softly. “No longer frightened.”
“They are reaching out to us,” Matthew whispered as he sheathed his blade. “And we need to find them.”
“We should leave tonight then?” Sven asked.
“Yes.” Matthew gestured at the door. “Go ready yourself. Dress warmly and provision lightly. We will hunt along the way.”
Sven nodded and headed for the door.
“And nephew?”
Sven stopped and glanced back.
“Go speak with Samantha first,” he said. “Tell her of your plans so that she may come speak with me if she needs too.”
“Yes, Uncle.” Sven nodded and left.
Matthew began getting ready, almost surprised Freydis’ words weren’t drifting through his mind as they often had since she died in battle. But then he hadn’t heard her in a while. Her irritation.
Her anger.
While worried about her, he could admit it was not entirely unpleasant taking a moment from what he assumed was his own guilt talking. His never-ending frustration at how that day had ended. The lives lost because he wasn’t where he should have been. Because his brother had not been where he should have been.
It mattered little to him that his wife and sister were privileged enough to dine with Odin in Valhalla. All he had been able to focus on for years were the mistakes made. How differently things could have gone.
Since then, a slow fury had built. One his sister’s voice helped fuel. One even Sigrunn added to on occasion when he imagined his wife desperate to find him and Håkon. Lost wherever she was. Not dining happily with Odin but saddened by how everything turned out.
Within minutes, Matthew had provisioned the few things he needed. He put on snow boots, sheathed several blades, an axe, wrapped a heavy fur around his shoulders and headed out. He wouldn’t say goodbye to everyone, and they didn’t expect it. There might be a war on the horizon, but his kin knew he had to do this. He couldn’t settle until he found his son. That thought in mind, he had nearly made it clear of the village with Sven in tow, when Heidrek appeared in front of him.
“I cannot stay, my King,” he mumbled. “Surely you understand that.”
“Brother,” Heidrek said softly, catching his arm in passing. “I am your brother before I am your king.”
He met Heidrek’s eyes and clenched his jaw. While they had come far since all of this began, they still had far to go. “As you wish.” His eyes dropped to the hand on his arm. “Please release me, Brother. I have to go find my son.”
“What of mother and father?” Heidrek did not let go. “Will you not say goodbye to them?”
“No,” Matthew ground out. “Losing Freydis was enough.” His eyes found Heidrek’s again. “They do not need to say goodbye to another child.”
“You are selfish,” Heidrek said, his tone firm but not quite condemning.
“I am practical.”
He pulled his arm away, continued on and didn’t look back. Heidrek knew nothing of being a parent. Nothing of the sacrifice that went along with it. The way it could cripple you. Break your heart but at the same time lift you up.
“But I soon will, Brother,” whispered through his mind.
Matthew stopped and looked back through the driving snow. Heidrek held his eyes for several long moments before he turned and walked back toward the village. Matthew watched him until he vanished then turned and continued on his way.
So another child would be coming soon.
Heidrek and Cybil’s.
But she had not yet conceived.
Interesting.
He and Sven continued on most of the night in silence. When daybreak came, they would seek shelter. As it was told, the enemy preferred daylight, so it was safest not to travel when the sun was up.
Matthew wondered about that, though.
As it had been since all this began, the enemy tended to show up at all hours. It did not seem to matter whether the sun was up or not. Yet Vigdis, a powerful seer, said it was true. Night was safest. Not day. So before the sun crested the horizon, they hunted and then settled in a cave to sleep.
“What god do you think Hallstein is related to?” Sven said as he lit a fire and set up a spit while Matthew skinned the meat. “I dwell on this often but come up with no answer.” His eyes went to Matthew. “It would help us to know, yes?”
Matthew nodded, having contemplated the same thing for far too long. “The enemy is a trickster, is he not?” He shrugged. “So who else would he be related to but Loki?”
Sven nodded. “That makes the most sense.” He frowned. “But does Loki not prefer nighttime?”
“I think it is impossible for any of us to truly know what Loki prefers.” Matthew handed him the skinned rabbit. “But it would not bode well for us if it is his blood running through the veins of our enemy.”
“Is Thor not as strong?” Sven reminded. “And does he not favor Heidrek? Therefore favor us Sigdir’s?”
“
Yet he seems to be playing so minor a part in all this.” Matthew handed over a skin of water as well. “Heidrek has barely had a chance to use the sword he gave him.”
“Not yet.” Sven seemed unsettled. “But I am sure he will.”
Matthew understood his discontent. If a god such as Thor bestowed a blade on their king, He must have had a good reason. And that could only mean something more dire was on the horizon.
“We are far better equipped now,” he reminded his nephew. “Between Cybil and her sisters’ newfound powers, the weapons we’ve come into and our own strength increasing, we are ready for whatever comes our way.”
Yet they both knew as they set to eating in silence, that they really had no idea how well prepared they were. Hallstein was a difficult enemy to stay ahead of. To add to that, he was the reincarnate of one of the first three original dragons, which made him all that much more worrisome.
Now he might very well have Matthew’s son.
He stared at the cave ceiling after they settled in to sleep and again prayed Håkon was safe. That he truly was with Kjar. Yet if he were, why wouldn’t his uncle have reached out by now? Perhaps Kjar was trying to keep Håkon safe from the enemy. He had to assume that. Which implied that somehow he already knew about Cybil’s picture in Maine. The little dragon being carried off by the larger one. He had created the Yggdrasill that connected them to the twenty-first century, so maybe his godliness allowed him to see things.
As always, sleep did not come easily. When it finally came, as usual it was full of things that made no sense. Shadows. Beings without faces that spoke to him. Warned him. Sometimes they were angry. Other times, sad.
Then he was there again.
On a shore he knew all too well.
Battling.
And just like every time before, he was there one second and somewhere else the next. Or should he say everyone else was there one moment then gone the next. Freydis. Sigrunn. All of them had vanished. He gripped his shield and sword and spun, searching for a battle that had just been there. That he had just been fighting.
Fury of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 4) Page 3
