Conquered Shores

by Brooklynn Rivers

  “I’ll be back,” Völund said and disappeared around the corner. Within a few minutes, he emerged carrying something wrapped in a blanket. He placed it on the worktable near the fire and started to unfold the material.

  “Völund,” she whispered, catching her breath.

  “This is for your beloved, my lady,” he replied, unveiling a forty-inch broadsword, “It is a mighty weapon for a warrior, don’t you think?”

  She stared at the blade, admiring the fine craftsmanship. “It’s beautiful.”

  “This sword is unlike any other that I have forged,” he explained, running a finger across the face of the blade, “It is sharp enough to skin a wolf.”

  “Ye have done a fine job.”

  Völund turned it toward the light. “It is made of the strongest steel. The grip is wrapped in the finest leather ever crafted in Dublin. Here, feel the weight.”

  Shannon grasped the hilt with both hands and tried to lift it. “It’s verra heavy.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, “Let me help you.”

  Völund lifted it and placed it on the cloth. “I took great care in crafting the crossguard. It is decorated with moonstone and blue amber.”

  Shannon ran her fingers along the jewels and smiled. “Just like my necklace.”

  “A fierce warrior fights for his lady’s honor when going into battle,” Völund explained, “She will give him strength to be victorious.”

  “It is truly the finest work I’ve ever seen,” she praised, “Ye are the most skillful blacksmith in all the land.”

  “Gunnar is a fierce warrior, a fair leader. I am glad King Olaf has rewarded him well. He will make an honorable chieftain.”

  “When will the king present him with this gift?”

  “King Olaf plans on holding the sword ceremony at the feast tonight,” Völund explained, “but that is a secret between us.”

  “I willnae breathe a word of it,” Shannon said, looking out of the window, “It was good to see ye, Völund. I should return to the bakehouse before Gerta comes lookin’ for me.”

  “Good day, Shannon,” he smiled.

  “Good day,” she said, shuffling out of the door.

  Mud sloshed against her shoes as she ambled down the footpath toward the bakehouse. Gunnar will be very proud of his new broadsword, she thought. He had worked long and hard to earn such a gift. Tonight should be a special night for him. And she would not allow anything to ruin it.

  The fish.

  She wondered what kind of mood he was in after Gerta informed him about the stolen fish. Whomever took them could have been desperately hungry, but he would not see it that way. In Dublin, the punishment for stealing was severe no matter what the reason.

  Stop thinking about it, she thought. The Knorr was leaving later today, and there was plenty left to do for the evening feast. Her stomach had been upset for the last few days leaving her nauseous and worn-out, making it more difficult to perform her kitchen duties. With more work awaiting her, she did not have time to get sick.

  Shannon breathed deeply, sniffing the mix of rain and grass that saturated the air. As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of two people standing along the path just a few yards away. It was Kiera and Magnus.

  “What are they doing?” she mumbled, looking down.

  She watched them through the corner of one eye and saw them having a heated conversation. They were up to something, Shannon thought, sucking in a deep breath.

  Do not look at them. Do not speak. Just go on and head for the bakehouse, she said to herself.

  Shannon continued down the road quietly, trying to avoid trouble. Suddenly, she felt uneasy. Trapped. She turned and saw Kiera glaring at her. A cold chill raced down her spine. Instincts begged her to run, but Shannon was determined not to back down. She was tired of their petty games. In spite of their weak attempt of intimidation, she refused to yield.

  All of a sudden, Kiera glanced at Shannon before she darted down the trail leaving Magnus behind. Hold steady, Shannon thought as her knees started to buckle. Do not give in. If she could get by him, then the bakehouse was just a stone’s throw away. She could do this.

  Shannon held her breath and continued on, concentrating on the sound of gravel beneath her feet. He was staring at her—she could feel it. Keep going, she breathed. Her heart pounded against each rib. Sweat dripped from her palms. Just a few more steps—

  “Who do you think you are?” Magnus spat, grabbing her arm.

  “Let me pass!” she screamed as he spun her around.

  “You walk around Dublin as if you are one of us,” Magnus growled, tightening his grip, “But you don’t fool me. I know who you are.”

  “Have ye lost yer mind?” She struggled to break free, but he was too strong. “Yer mad.”

  “Deny it all you want,” he said, leaning closer, “You bear the mark of Freya. I saw it that night in the woods. You are the Valkyrie of Fire. The Chosen.”

  “Get yer hands off me!” she yelled, pulling free.

  “Fight all you want,” he growled, “Soon you will be mine, and Ravenshield will no longer protect you.”

  His eyes pierced through her, slicing at her courage. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. His lustful grin seized her. She could not move.

  “Shannon,” Gerta called, standing in front of the bakehouse, “Come here. There’s work to do.”

  “Run along, Shannon,” Magnus mocked, “We will meet again. You can count on that.”

  “Hurry,” Gerta said, breaking Magnus’ spell.

  Shannon turned, staring him in the eyes. “Stay away from me.”

  With a quick turn of her heels, she mustered up enough courage to walk away. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she hiked up the path. Every muscle in her body tensed, hearing Magnus’ words echo in her mind.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Gerta asked, watching Shannon stagger inside the bakehouse, “Ye’re as pale as a ghost. Shannon, are ye alright?”

  Shannon swallowed hard and brushed her hair back from her eyes. She peeked out of the window and saw Magnus standing there—arms folded, eyes fixed on her.

  “Shannon?” Gerta touched her arm.

  “What?” Shannon gasped.

  “What’s the matter, child?”

  “Nothin’,” Shannon answered, “I-I havenae been feelin’ well lately, that’s all.”

  Gerta felt her forehead checking for fever. “Ye’re chilled to the bone. Warm yerself by the fire.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Shannon said, shuffling over to the hearth.

  “What was that all about?”

  “They’re tryin’ to break me down.”

  “I’m sick of those two,” Gerta piped up, “Why don’ ye say somethin’ to Gunnar?”

  “It’s not worth it,” she went on, “It’ll be over soon enough.”

  “Shannon, what’re ye up to?”

  “Sometimes, problems can work themselves out on their own,” she said then changed the subject, “What did Gunnar say about the fish?”

  “He isnae pleased,” Gerta replied, “Trust me, Shannon. He’ll find out who took them, and they will pay a terrible price.”

  “Is he finished loading the Knorr?”

  “He should be done by mid-mornin’. He wanted ye to come by.”

  Shannon smiled weakly, gathering her composure. “We have so much work to do.”

  “Nonsense!” Gerta huffed. “Go to him. We’ll have plenty of time if we get out there by noon.”

  “I’ll be back shortly,” Shannon said, heading toward the door.

  By the time she walked down to the gravel path, the sun had broken through the clouds splashing light on Dublin. The rain slowly evaporated as blue skies smiled down from above. The grass was a bright green and the air smelled fresh after a rainstorm.

  Shannon weaved along the trail, listening to the birds cheerfully sing. Insects chirped in the tall grasses while a gentle breeze rustled the bushes. With beauty surrounding her, she slowl
y pushed the encounter with Magnus out of her mind. It was no use in telling Gunnar about it, she thought. Magnus was just trying to frighten her, but she would not allow him to break her down. Her time in Dublin was coming to an end. After the sword ceremony, Gunnar would concentrate on finishing the fortress in Glendalough. Then they could move on with their lives and leave all of this turmoil behind them. If she could just hold on a little longer, then Magnus and Kiera would fade away forever. There would be no more tension, no more hostility.

  “Good morning,” a deep voice called from the ship.

  Shannon looked up and saw Gunnar standing majestically on the bow. Her heart skipped a beat—sea spray and sweat glistened on his bare chest as each muscle contracted. Rays of sunshine spilled over him casting a golden sheen all over his body. His leather trews stretched over the well-defined contour of his legs.

  With his rugged good looks and powerful physique, he was the most handsome man in Dublin. Any woman would love to spend one night in his bed. And Gunnar Ravenshield was all hers. She smiled, thinking of him lying naked in bed, waiting for her.

  “Good mornin’,” she said grinning.

  “You are smiling,” Gunnar said, jumping down into the sand. He strolled up to her and ran a finger along her chin. “It becomes you.”

  Shannon tilted her head and kissed him softly on the lips. “Gerta said that ye sent for me.”

  “I did,” he whispered, pulling her closer, “She told me about the fish.”

  “We don’ know what happened to them.”

  “There is a thief in Dublin, and I plan on flushing him out.”

  “Maybe they were hungry.”

  “Hungry?” he laughed, “Dublin is a rich village, Shannon. No one goes without. I will find them, and they will pay a terrible price for thievery.”

  Shannon cringed envisioning a young child who had stolen the fish. The punishment would be severe, too severe. “Depending on what drove them to steal, would ye show mercy?”

  “I am a Viking. I show no mercy.”

  “I see,” she said softly.

  “Enough about that,” he said, “I did not ask for you to come out here to talk about stolen fish. I wanted to see you before I leave this afternoon.”

  “Where’re ye goin’?”

  “After the Knorr is loaded, I plan to ride out to Glendalough with Gorm. We need to deliver supplies to the workers.”

  “I’ll be anxious to go there again,” Shannon sighed.

  “I cannot wait to take you there to stay,” he said.

  “How long before it is finished?” she asked.

  “Just a few more weeks as long as the weather holds,” he answered, “We are transporting timbers for the north wall today.”

  “How late will ye be?”

  “I doubt if I come back tonight. There is a great deal of work that has to be done in Glendalough. I will try to return for the feast, but I make no promises.”

  “Try?” she asked, knowing that Gunnar had to be at the feast tonight because of the sword ceremony. King Olaf would not be pleased if Gunnar did not attend, and she had been sworn to secrecy by Völund. It was time to take action and make him want to come home without spoiling the surprise. She leaned against him, letting her hand skim down the side of his trews. “But I’ve prepared dinner for ye tonight, Gunnar. What do I have to do to entice ye?”

  “Are you willing to strike a bargain?” he teased, running his fingers through her auburn hair.

  Shannon molded her body to his and kissed him passionately. She snaked her arms around his neck pulling him closer, pressing against him.

  “Let me show ye what I’m willin’ to do to get ye back home for the feast.”

  Shannon pushed him against the Knorr and kissed him hungrily, probing his mouth with her tongue. She could taste the passion on his lips, could feel desire growing inside his trews. There was no way he was going to be late, she thought. Not tonight.

  “My lady,” he groaned, pulling her behind the Knorr, “How bold are you?”

  “Verra bold, my lord,” she purred, grabbing the rope that hung down from the ship and binding Ravenshield’s wrists.

  Shannon unlaced his trews and lowered herself to her knees as the ocean waters splashed playfully against her thighs. With a smooth glide of her hands, she pulled down his breeches and massaged his stiffening manhood until it was rock hard. The head was within a tongue’s reach from her face, boldly jutting out from its leather prison. She had to do it. She wanted to do it.

  “Show no mercy,” he moaned as the rope tightened around his wrists. Her lips encircled his shaft slowly. Her teeth grazed the tip, igniting a blaze of passion so intense that it drove him mad. She devoured him slowly—licking, pulling, sucking.

  Sweat gathered on Gunnar’s brow as he pumped back and forth, relishing in the warm slickness of her mouth. Pressure mounted within. Heat consumed him inch by inch. Her mouth tightened and released rhythmically like the waves of the sea pounding against the shore. Each thrust brought him closer to ecstasy. Each pulse led him farther down the road to dark desire.

  “Yes,” he gasped as liquid fire set his body aflame. With one last thrust, Gunnar lost control spewing his seed as he succumbed to sexual rapture.

  “How was that for a bargain?” Shannon smiled, dragging her thumb across the corner of her mouth.

  “That was more than what I expected,” he said breathlessly, “You are a fine woman.”

  Shannon stood up and looked into his eyes. “Are ye comin’ to the feast?”

  “How could I not?” he said, steadying himself against the ship.

  “Good,” she smiled, untangling the rope, “I’ll prepare something extra special for ye.”

  “Is that a promise?” he teased, lacing up his trews.

  “It’ll be to die for.”

  Gunnar smiled broadly and watched her slink up the beach. The way her hips swayed back and forth awakened a primal urge within him once again. He would be foolish to miss the festivities now, he thought, watching her shrink farther and farther away until she disappeared behind a sand dune. Glendalough could wait. There was no way he would disappoint her especially when a feast awaited him in his bed later tonight.

  Chapter 19

  A gentle breeze swayed the grass back and forth leading Shannon farther into the fields. She glanced up and watched puffs of clouds slowly drift across the sky, suspended in time where there was no beginning or end. She wondered what it would be like to become a cloud, drifting aimlessly in the sky and crossing the oceans to places unknown. It must be wonderful to go wherever the wind blows, she thought.

  Suddenly, she felt lightheaded, sick. It was difficult to breathe, impossible to swallow. Everything was spinning—spinning faster and faster until the landscape became a blur. Sweat gathered on her forehead. A wave of heat shot through her body. The buzz in her ears grew louder and louder as her knees started to buckle.

  “Good heavens!” Gerta gasped, grabbing Shannon’s arm before she fell to the ground, “Are ye alright, lass?”

  “I’m feelin’ a wee bit sick,” Shannon whispered.

  “Sit down,” Gerta said, guiding her to the ground, “Easy now. Slowly.”

  “Thank ye,” Shannon said wearily.

  “Let me have a look at ye.” Gerta turned Shannon’s face toward her and examined her eyes. “Has this just come on?”

  “No. It comes and goes,” Shannon replied.

  “How long have ye been feelin’ this way?” Gerta asked, tucking a lock of hair behind Shannon’s ear.

  “A few days,” she answered, then went on, “but I’ve been feelin’ poorly for about a week. I just don’ know what’s goin’ on.”

  “I see.” Gerta grinned.

  Shannon turned to her and asked, “Why are you smiling?”

  “Shannon,” Gerta said softly, “Don’ ye understand what’s happenin’?”

  “I’m ill,” she said, “My stomach is upset all the time.”

  “That’s what ha
ppens when ye’re carryin’ Ravenshield’s bairn.”

  Shannon’s mouth dropped. “What?”

  “Bairn.”

  “No,” she said hastily, “This cannae be.”

  “Come now, lass,” Gerta went on, “Ye’ve lain with Gunnar almost every night since arrivin’ in Dublin.”

  Shannon laughed nervously, “I’m sure that I’m sick. Nothin’ more.”

  “Yer sick alright,” Gerta grinned, “Ye will stay sick for nine months.”

  “What makes ye so sure?”

  “I was a midwife in my village for many years. After we get back to the longhouse, I’ll check ye to make sure,” Gerta explained.

  Shannon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ravenshield’s bairn. Could it be true? She was not prepared for this.

  “Gerta,” she said, “This needs to be kept between the two of us. If I am carryin’ Ravenshield’s bairn, I don’ want anyone knowin’ yet.”

  “Of course,” Gerta said, “I willnae speak of it. Especially to Kiera.”

  Shannon turned her head and saw Kiera at the forest edge where the evergreens grew. “What is she doin’ all the way over there?”

  “That girl has been actin’ strange lately,” Gerta said, “She’s become verra secretive.”

  Breathing in the fresh air, Shannon stood up and stretched. The dizziness had subsided. She stared across the field, focusing on Kiera. “I’m gonna see what she’s up to.”

  “Leave her alone, Shannon. She’s not to be trusted.”

  “It’s somethin’ I have to do.”

  “Ye don’ need to pick a fight in yer condition.”

  Shannon turned to her and said, “This is somethin’ I must do.”

  * * * * *

  One by one, Kiera plucked the ruby-red berries from the evergreen carefully avoiding the needles that sprouted from each limb. The fragrant smell of the forest concealed the lethal danger these little berries had. How deceptive, she thought, tossing a dozen in her basket.

  “That’s a juicy one,” she whispered, plucking it from the limb, rolling it between her fingers, “It is a wonder how many lives have been taken by eating such a pretty little thing.”