A Crown of Flames

by Pauline Creeden

  All faces turned to her. “The dragon ate him?” Ulf’s wife said.

  Dyrfinna remembered the character she was portraying and dropped her eyes again. “That’s, um, what I heard.” But then her head came back up. “Everybody was talking about it! The sounds he made when he was getting eaten up—all these people fainted dead away.” This had included Dyrfinna herself, because she had been right there when it happened. She shuddered.

  Several of the people in her group did happy dances.

  “That poor dragon! Probably gave it indigestion,” somebody muttered.

  “I hope it’s true,” Ulf’s wife said fervently. “But it explains a lot, too.”

  One of Dyrfinna’s friends in the group had her arms around her teenaged son and daughter. “I don’t want to bring my children into the fighting that we must do, but our house was burned, and they have nowhere else to go.”

  Dyrfinna spoke up. “I don’t see why your children couldn’t join our fleet. There is plenty to do in war besides fight. We need medics, water-bearers, message-bearers, as well as fighters. Don’t you think so?” she added, looking at Ulf.

  He cracked a smile. “You speak wise counsel for a thrall-boy and prisoner.”

  “I had to serve under King Varinn. I heard that kind of talk constantly.” She pulled a face as if that kind of talk bored her silly.

  They walked up the slope until Dyrfinna turned around to see the ocean’s edge with their ships so far below, and the neat rows of houses and gardens—now broken with skeletal, blackened ruins puncturing the rows, and big gaps of empty, burned areas. Hovels and tents clustered here and there through the city, and she could hear a little child crying for his mama. A group of people sat in the middle of a burned garden with a little cook fire surrounded by rocks, cooking their evening meal, their possessions under an oilcloth next to them.

  “What a waste,” she breathed. “What a terrible thing to do.”

  Even though she knew she had a death notice with her name on it at the queen’s keep, she absolutely wanted to help her people. This wrong needed to be righted. If they could persuade the queen to pull her troops out of this war with Varinn, they could redirect most of them in a fight against Nauma and her undead dragons, perhaps a few of the fighters could return home for a short while to rebuild some of the houses that had burned. They could get the people of Skala back on their feet again.

  But Dyrfinna also wanted to meet the queen.

  She wanted answers.

  The queen’s keep sat brooding at the top of this part of the mountain, and the walls that surrounded the city and kept it safe from invaders met on each side of her great stone keep. A second wall inside the first surrounded the keep and its grounds, but the guards let in the people who they recognized from living with them over the years. People from other places, or a new face in the city, usually had to be vouched for by somebody trustworthy or were questioned endlessly.

  Dyrfinna looked at the old familiar keep. There was the parade ground off to the side where they used to learn fighting and swordsmanship with her old friends—Gefjun, Rjupa, Skeggi, and Ostryg.

  But now Ostryg was dead – she’d killed him, not meaning to – and Gefjun was trapped somewhere with King Varinn, and needed to be rescued – and Skeggi and Rjupa were drowned.

  Her heart filled with grief.

  They approached the inside wall that led to the keep itself.

  Ulf stopped and talked to the guards.

  “What’s this boy’s name?” the guard asked, pointing to Dyrfinna.

  “Gydi,” she said respectfully with a slight bow. “I was taken from Uppsala when I was a baby, forced into service for Varinn—until these people rescued me from that place.” She bowed slightly to Ulf.

  “I personally vouch for this young man,” Ulf said.

  Dyrfinna cast her eyes down again. Ulf’s words opened a pit in her stomach. If her identity were discovered—and if they found out that Ulf was vouching for a woman with a death warrant on her head—he would suffer punishment as well. And here was Ulf, lying on her behalf with one arm around his wife and his other arm around his children.

  Dyrfinna closed her eyes and prayed to Frejya that nothing happen to Ulf or his loved ones as a result. And if I am somehow discovered, she prayed, let the trouble fall to me alone. Don’t let it touch any of them.

  She touched the hammer of Thor that hung around her neck as the guard waved them all through.

  The female guard followed. “So, why did you throw your lot in with these vandals?” she asked Dyrfinna, walking at her side.

  Dyrfinna felt her face redden. “I wanted to leave Varinn’s servitude and be free. These people gave me the chance.”

  Ulf chuckled. “Leave off the poor man, Velva. Can’t you see you’re embarrassing him?”

  “He looks cute when he blushes,” she said, inspecting Dyrfinna’s face closely. Too closely. Dyrfinna turned away, afraid that Velva might see through the charm that disguised her features.

  “I’ll do more than embarrass you if you’d give me the chance,” the guard said. “Don’t be shy.” Her hand rested on the small of Dyrfinna’s back.

  Dyrfinna bounced into the air like a startled colt. “Nope! I’m going over here,” she said, walking away from Velva’s touch. Ordinarily, she could have let it slide. But what if the woman touched her face? Would her hand feel the contours of Gydi’s face? Or Dyrfinna’s?

  The group laughed at Dyrfinna’s awkward scrambling. Ulf said kindly, “Keep your hands to yourself, Velva. He’s a guest here, and you are being unprofessional.”

  Velva put her hands behind her back. “Offer still stands,” she whispered to Dyrfinna. “But only if you want to.”

  Dyrfinna looked at the ground again.

  They came into the queen’s keep, and Dyrfinna looked all around her at the familiar old place.

  They were taken before the queen.

  And there, at the right hand of the queen, sat a black-haired man that Dyrfinna knew well.

  Her father.

  Actually, she did not consider him her father any more.

  His name was Egill. She had not seen his face since the night he had flown Dyrfinna to a dragon’s isle and dumped her there to die. He had signed the warrant that said if she ever returned to Skala, she would have her head struck from her body.

  And he sat now, impassively looking over the group of people Ulf led before them.

  5

  A Contentious Meeting

  Dyrfinna did not look at him. She could not. Instead, she did her best to wipe her face clean of emotion, looking at the queen sitting on her throne, praying that Egill’s keen black eyes would not be able to pierce the charm that disguised her face. At least she was much taller because of the cobbler’s clever work on her boots.

  The queen, at least, was better to look at. Her eyes were smiling, gentle as she looked over the group.

  But seeing those gentle eyes, Dyrfinna suppressed the urge to shake her head. Could the queen she have really killed a little boy, cooked his heart, and fed it to King Varinn? It didn’t seem possible.

  The queen leaned forward on her throne. “It is good to see you, Ulf, and all the rest of you Skalans. And those of you who are not,” she added with a nod to Dyrfinna. “Please, Ulf, tell us all about your escape from the despicable Varinn.”

  Ulf bowed deeply. “Many thanks for hearing us tonight, though the decisions you must make are difficult. I’m afraid we don’t have an exciting tale of escape, for we were released though the kind service of Varinn’s second-in-command.”

  The queen wrinkled her brow. “His second-in-command released you?”

  Inwardly, Dyrfinna smote her forehead. She should have gone over Ulf’s story with him beforehand. The queen would have known that the command to release the prisoners should have come directly from King Varinn himself, not his second-in-command. And now she had to be wondering why the king himself didn’t give that order.

  “Yes, madame,” sai
d Ulf, unheeding of the new wrinkle in Queen Saehildr’s brow. “While we were imprisoned, a woman named Nauma was weaving some evil magic.” Dyrfinna noted how Egill’s eyebrow twitched upward upon hearing Nauma’s name. “Nauma’s magic was of the worst kind. She raised dragons from the dead.”

  A rumble of talk rose from the spectators. Even a number of the queen’s staff looked astonished.

  “Captain Ulf, is this possible?” the queen asked. “A dragon raised from the dead?”

  Ulf stretched out his hands. “My liege, I understand how this story must sound remarkable, but hear me out. Nauma made a dragon undead, and she sent the dragon to Varinn’s keep in an assault on his people. A brave soul single-handedly met the dragon in battle and killed it. Then the goddess Skuld herself appeared and commanded that a group of us be sent forth to vanquish the foul enchantress and stop her army of the undead before she created more of these creatures.”

  Egill was looking Ulf over very carefully, his hand stroking his beard. “I find this patently remarkable.”

  “We do, too, sir.”

  “I’ve heard talk of the undead dragons, but thought it was rumors from the rank-and-file,” Egill said. Dyrfinna narrowed her eyes. Rumors from the rank-and-file often turned out to be true. “But something else is filling me with wonder. The goddess Skuld said that your group was summoned to fight the enchantress Nauma. But I see no magic fighters that I recognize in your group.”

  The people around Dyrfinna looked at each other, frowning.

  “I beg forgiveness,” Egill continued hastily, “but from what I know of each of you, I question your ability to fight a dragon, much less an undead dragon. Against humans, I don’t doubt your abilities at all. But fighting a dragon requires a whole different skill set. What’s more, who among you can fight an enchantress?”

  Several of Dyrfinna’s group folded their arms stubbornly. Dyrfinna’s blood boiled. Egill was right. She was probably the only person in the group who had that ability—though she certainly was not going to speak up here. But to ridicule them for this inability was beyond the pale.

  Egill continued. “Tell me, who is at the head of your force? And how capable are they?”

  Dyrfinna fumed. Egill saw through what they were doing. Saw that there was a piece of the story being left out.

  But now he was taunting Ulf, who was clearly the head of the group.

  Ulf lifted his head. “Sir. The majority of our force has been left behind at the ships, those who are not Skalan. Our commander is from Varinn’s troops, though we are not at liberty to say who it is, or what their abilities are, since this information might compromise Varinn’s mission, and we are fighting in cooperation with each other. We are wholeheartedly for Skala, but we want to carry out this mission to the best of our ability, for the goddess Skuld has charged us with this work. We are not spies, we are not turncoats. And we have abilities that we are not at liberty to reveal at this time. Later, once Nauma has been stopped, we can explain everything to you. But until then, we must continue our mission. We are here to stop a terrible scourge, and we want your help.”

  Dyrfinna could have clapped her hands at how well he’d worded it. She simply nodded.

  Ulf continued. “Queen Saehildr,” he said, bowing to her. “We came here, first, to beg to be released, for a time, from our oath to fight in your armies. Our mission is to fight for all our cities and town against an enemy that could destroy us all. Once Nauma and her army is destroyed, we will gladly return to serve you, and only you, O my queen,” he said with a bow. “Varinn’s soldiers will return to his keep, and all of us will return to our service in your army.”

  The queen deliberated a moment then said, “Ulf, you have always been as courageous as your name says. I have never been disappointed by your courage.”

  “Thank you,” said Ulf, bowing.

  “How many Skalans are in your group of former prisoners?”

  “Thirty,” said Ulf. “and approximately the same number of Varinn’s fighters. But they, too, have sworn to fight this peril with us. They have all seen this undead dragon with their own eyes, so they understand, better than I, how an army of undead would destroy our civilization and even the world.”

  Dyrfinna couldn’t help but remember poor Corae, and how for a moment, when she had her old mind back, and she’d stretched her neck out for Dyrfinna to kill her. She shook her head to remember that grief.

  “You. Young man,” Egill said, pointing.

  With a shock, Dyrfinna realized he was pointing at her.

  She pitched her voice into a different timbre than what she usually used, and used the light singsong accent from Upplanda. “Yes, what is it, sir?”

  “Have you seen this undead dragon that Ulf has mentioned?”

  “Yeeesss,” she said, drawing out the affirmation. “I was there when it came crawling up all the balconies, screeching and biting and carryin’ on. Way at the very very top of the keep was somebody singing to her, tryin’ to call the dragon to her. The undead dragon went to her, and she fought it and lopped off its head, from what I heard. I couldn’t see the fight, as I was so far down, and all I heard was terrible screeching and screaming. I was sure that it had got her and was tearin’ her apart—we all was. But when I made it up to the top, there she was, the girl, a-cradling its head in her arms after she killed it.”

  “Cradling the dragon’s head?” Queen Saehildr asked.

  “They all said that she was friends with the dead dragon, from when it was still alive. And she… the goddess Skuld revealed herself to us all then, and we were fit to die, because none of us ever seen a goddess before. And Skuld told us that more of these undead dragons were being raised, and we needed to bring who we could along to fight and stop ’em. Though I don’t know how I’d fight a beast like that, thank you.”

  Then Dyrfinna realized that she’d gotten too carried away with her character. She clammed up and looked down at her feet. “Begging your pardon, your majesty.”

  “Do you know the name of the one who killed it?” Egill demanded suddenly.

  Ulf hesitated and looked at the others.

  If that didn’t give the game away, nothing did, thought Dyrfinna.

  She spoke up. “Why, Ulf, I’m sure they know the girl. Her name’s Dyrfinna, right?” She looked from one person to another as if puzzled as to why they didn’t just spit this name out.

  Egill said “Hm!”

  She looked at him as if puzzled by their reaction.

  “So, boy…”

  “Ah, my name is Gydi, sir.”

  “So, Gydi. Why didn’t this Dyrfinna come with you?”

  She hoped her puzzled look would hide her anger. Then she said blandly, “Why, sir, certainly I’d like to know that myself, because I would’ve felt ever so much better if she’d gone with us. She took that dragon out like in nothing flat, to hear them talk about it.” Egill was glaring at her, and she subsided. “Um, so anyway, she left. Took off without us on some pretty little orange dragon. Lovely as a picture. But I hope she comes back. You’d be so proud of her. You couldn’t even know.”

  Oh, that had been a mistake.

  That “you’d be so proud of her” had come out like a taunt. It would have been a snarky comment that Dyrfinna herself would have said.

  And now Egill was looking at her differently. As if she were an unknown that he needed to figure out.

  She broke her eyes from his hard glare, but looked at Ulf in evident confusion. “Do they not like her here?” he whispered to him, but Ulf had quickly turned away. She looked down and pressed her lips together as they started talking again.

  Don’t get too full of yourself, Finna, she told herself sternly. You don’t know what he’s going to pick up from your words. And I need to stay alive for my friends.

  “Yes, that girl Dyrfinna is one who has caused us much grief,” the queen said.

  The queen said that.

  Dyrfinna felt all the blood leave her face, and she looked down.
r />   The queen said that.

  She stooped down to adjust her boot, to cover for the fact that a boy who did not know anything about Dyrfinna suddenly went all white in the face. And Egill was watching her like a hawk, she was sure of it.

  And the whole time she was raging inwardly. Don’t you remember how we saved your daughter Thora when the Danish invaders attacked this town? What has happened to you?

  And her own people around her—Dyrfinna’s own people—burst out in anger.

  “Your Majesty! How can you say such a thing?”

  “Finna saved our skins in battle when the odds were stacked against us ten to one! She’s the only reason we’re standing here before you now!”

  “She fought at my side at the mountain pass and kept Nauma’s army from breaking through our defenses when we were exhausted. If you consider that ‘causing you much grief,’ then I’ll take it, thank you.”

  Egill raised his hands. “That’s enough out of all of you. That’s enough. Don’t talk back to the queen.”

  Abashed, her people muted themselves to a grumble. Dyrfinna, having had a chance to recover herself, stood again. From the corner of her eye she could see Egill watching her closely.

  But at the front of the crowd, Ulf spoke up. “Sir, I have been a friend of yours for years. So now I have to ask, in all honesty: Why have you condemned your daughter to exile and death?”

  Dyrfinna’s eyes popped. Her crew looked at each other, their eyes big.

  Ulf continued as if not noticing everybody’s reaction – or the queen’s shocked frown. “I have fought with Finna in battle. She has led her small fleet with honor. She has kept us alive against severe odds. I have not seen her do anything that would lead to exile.”

  “I beg to differ. She killed a man who would have made a great commander; she stole one of the queen’s dragons and took it on a joyride,” Egill said, his face getting redder and redder. “I’m surprised at you, Ulf. It’s not your place to question our decisions. Our decision is ours alone—not yours.”

  She felt the shock from the other people around her.