A Crown of Flames

by Pauline Creeden

  “Not yet. I hope to keep it that way. I want to move all of us down the mountain as fast as possible if she does show up. So we’re going to have to be ready to somehow engage an enemy.”

  Just then she heard Gefjun’s irritable voice. “I hope this isn’t Finna in real life because I’m going to be mad.”

  Dyrfinna tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t. “Look. I’m trying to save all your lives here. Try to wake up before you give me the snark.”

  Not wanting to say more, or hear it, she turned and quickly walked away, waving Ulf over to her to talk strategy.

  “Have you spotted anything yet?” she asked.

  “No, but everybody’s getting nervous.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “Some of us walked around to the other side of the rosebush, and you won’t believe what we saw.”

  “A lake of frozen blood.”

  Ulf started. “Well, yes. How did it get there?”

  One of Skeggi’s crew came up next to them. “Sorry to interrupt, but that lake of blood is probably where Nauma slaughtered her whole army to raise up some dragons,” she said.

  Dyrfinna and Ulf exchanged a shocked look.

  “Nauma meant to kill all of us,” the woman continued, “but Varinn and Gefjun wrapped a whole enchanted rosebush around us so that Nauma couldn’t get to us.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Nauma had brought all of us up here to kill us and use our souls to raise these dragons from the dead,” the crew member continued. “But Nauma couldn’t get into the rose bramble to kill us. Its magic kept forcing her back. So, to raise her sickening army, she killed her own army instead. The last thing I heard as I fell asleep were the screams from the massacre.” She shuddered.

  So that was where the undead soldiers came from, Dyrfinna realized.

  “I heard the screams, too,” said an older veteran. “We were safe in here when the slaughter began. It’s good to see you alive, Dyrfinna. But is Nauma coming back now?”

  “I’m certain she is,” Dyrfinna said. “We need to get everybody out of here and down the mountain, quickly.”

  “Then let’s go. “ King Varinn reached over and gently brushed the hair off Gefjun’s brow. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and her face glowed with a smile. But then she looked around, and it faltered. Her eyes met Dyrfinna’s. Gefjun immediately looked away and sat up with her back to her.

  “We need to go,” King Varinn said in his deep voice as he clambered to his feet. “Get up, all of you. If you are already up, wake somebody else up. Nauma might be on her way.”

  Some of those who were moving slowly began to bestir themselves much more quickly at the sound of her name.

  “I’ll get my forces together,” Dyrfinna told King Varinn. “Rally yours and bring them outside. Not that I’m telling a king what to do,” she added quickly.

  “I give you leave to do so,” he said. “I woke up only a moment ago, after all.”

  She began to go outside, as others of Varinn’s soldiers got to their feet around her.

  “Dyrfinna,” the King added.

  “Yes?” Dyrfinna turned.

  The king pointed to a slim young man in white and gold robes, about her age, with sable skin and midnight dark eyes. “This is Ibn, from Iberia. Or somewhere in that area,” as Ibn gave him a faint frown, puzzled. “He was instrumental in helping Gefjun and I create this rose. He might be able to help you now.”

  Ibn bowed slightly. “The king overstates my abilities, but I am at your service.”

  From outside the roses, the emberdragon roared. Come! We must fly!

  “We have to go now!” Dyrfinna cried. “The dragon’s spotted something!”

  She raced outside. The emberdragon landed at her side, looking fierce, her body blazing like coals in the heart of a raging fire.

  Far off, low on the misty land far away, came a large white bird.

  But that was no bird.

  13

  A Confrontation

  Consternation ruled as all the half-asleep people clambered to get up and fight.

  To their credit, the fighters got up quickly and headed out of the rosebush, despite having just awakened from a deep, enchanted sleep. The flames on the rose blossoms flared up, brighter and brighter, each flame growing in brilliance as each person passed through the entrance in the rosebush.

  Gefjun reached up to a blossom and picked it. Unlike regular roses, this blossom snapped right off in her hand, still burning. Dyrfinna couldn’t help but stare at the burning rose in her hand.

  “Be careful with that,” she said, but the glow of the flames lit Gefjun’s face in a way that made her voice die in her throat. She didn’t know why.

  “Come on,” some of the warriors shouted, leading the others out through the entranceway of roses. And all around Dyrfinna, the flames on the roses grew and their fragrance filled the air even more.

  Suddenly, Ibn turned to her. “If we are to fight, I beg you to send any of the wounded into this place, for protection. It is crucial that Nauma not get a single dead body in her clutches.”

  “Understood.” Gefjun immediately gathered her medic bags and rushed out to stand ready.

  “Do we have any archers?” Dyrfinna immediately called through the entranceway, “Archers! Come here at once.”

  They came running, bows in hands.

  “Shoot at her from here,” Dyrfinna said, laying her hand on the canes of the rose bush.

  Suddenly, at her touch, gaps opened in the walls of thorns through which the archers could shoot.

  “Aye!” one of the archers exclaimed. “Did you see that?” She ran to one of the windows, nocked an arrow, and checked her aim. “Clear field here, too. Thanks, rose bush.”

  “Archers, do everything you possibly can to shoot Nauma off the back of that dragon,” Dyrfinna commanded.

  Outside the rosebush, King Varinn arranged the spear-fighters to throw their sharp spears as soon as the dragon got into range.

  “The undead dragons do not have flames,” Dyrfinna called to the others. “They have no fire in them. So you don’t need to fear an attack by fire.”

  Just then, the emberdragon flew in from behind the rosebush. Come on! We need to fight Nauma in the air. Don’t give her a chance to get here.

  Dyrfinna ran to her.

  “Give me a bow and arrow!” Dyrfinna cried to the rest of the fighters. “I’m going after Nauma in the air.”

  “You can’t handle a bow and arrow worth a damn,” Gefjun informed her as she handed her burning rose to a surprised King Varinn.

  “Thank you for that informative statement,” Dyrfinna said, accepting a quiver and an extra bow from one of the archers in her army.

  “You idiot. Stop. I’m going with you.” Gefjun marched over to swipe the bow out of Dyrfinna’s hand. Dyrfinna put it out of her reach.

  “What, so you can push me off the dragon at the first chance you get?” Dyrfinna asked.

  “No. Because I can hit the stinking target in the air. I don’t think you’ve seen the kind of magic that Nauma has done lately, and I’d rather not give her a chance to demonstrate. Give me that quiver so we can get started.”

  Dyrfinna firmly placed the quiver into Gefjun’s arms, trying not to let her exasperation show. “I’m only doing this because I’m familiar with your work,” she said. Gefjun was right. She was a much better archer than Dyrfinna. Even when the girls were little, Gefjun had been trained by her father, who’d been a royal archer until he lost his arm.

  All the same, Dyrfinna was more than pissed off at the high-handed way Gefjun was acting.

  The emberdragon had her wings open, impatient to fly. I don’t know what you two are arguing about, but if you’re going in to catch this woman, we need to go now! she roared.

  Gefjun stopped, suddenly concerned. “Why is she roaring like that?”

  “She’s telling us to stop fighting and come on.” Dyrfinna realized that Gefjun couldn’t speak to dragons as she could. “She’s a frie
nd of mine. I’ll translate whatever she says. Now, get up here.” Dryfinna climbed up. “Sit in front of me. You get the forward strap.”

  “We need another strap!” Gefjun cried, shocked. “I can’t hold on and shoot arrows at the same time.”

  “There’s no time to get one! Just wrap your feet around the strap like a trapeze artist.” The emberdragon shook her wings warningly. “Now let’s go! Just hold on to the strap for now. Varinn! King Varinn,” she called. “You are in charge of military operations.”

  “I accept,” the king said.

  “Up, dragon!”

  The emberdragon’s powerful wings swept and they leapt into the air, powerfully. Dyrfinna shut her eyes and held on to Gefjun for dear life. Gefjun was shouting nonsense as the dragon shot upward like a shooting star. They had both ridden dragons for the queen, but none of the queen’s dragons could move as blazingly fast as the emberdragon. Dyrfinna was used to it. Gefjun was completely unprepared.

  Dyrfinna felt her arms slipping from Gefjun’s waist as the powerful force of gravity pulled at her from behind. Panic choked her, and she fought with all her might to keep holding on, but her arms kept sliding.

  Then the dragon leveled off. Released from the awful pull of gravity, finally safe, Dyrfinna released Gefjun and gasped for breath.

  Gefjun, though also short of air, snapped back at her, “Why were you gripping me so hard, you idiot? You almost choked the air out of me.”

  “I nearly fell off,” said Dyrfinna.

  Gefjun subsided to a grumble.

  If you could please look ahead, the emberdragon suggested pointedly.

  Dyrfinna leaned forward, squinting. “Yes. I see her.”

  Nauma on a pale dragon, flying out of the faraway haze over the distant mountains.

  “And Nauma has two other dragons with her,” Dyrfinna reported, because Gefjun had bad eyesight. “By the way they’re flying, I’m sure they’re undead.”

  Gefjun fell silent, quickly loading an arrow onto her bow. She stretched the string back a few times experimentally, testing her aim and the feel of the string. “Nice,” she said quietly. “A little tight, but this bow has got a lot of power behind it. Let’s see if it hits true. I hope you don’t mind my shooting arrows off your back, Mr. Dragon.”

  I don’t mind at all, said the dragon.

  “It’s Ms. Dragon,” Dyrfinna said. “And she says she doesn’t mind.”

  “What, are you talking to dragons now?” Gefjun said sarcastically.

  “Well, yes, after I ran off with Rjupa’s dragon, I’ve been able to talk to them ever since. It was that sacrifice I made to her that allows me to understand what they’re saying. I showed Rjupa and Skeggi how talk to them, too.”

  “Not another word about them,” Gefjun said, her voice suddenly thick with tears.

  “But …”

  “Not another word!”

  “But Gefjun, they’re both alive,” Dyrfinna said. “I talked to them a few days ago.”

  Gefjun started to shake.

  This had obviously been the wrong time to give her the news.

  For Nauma was flying in, getting closer on her undead dragon, leading two others.

  Gefjun sang a short phrase that helped sharpen her vision, and she squinted for a moment. Then she took a deep breath. “I know two of those dragons,” Gefjun said quietly. “They’re the queen’s dragons. Or, they were.”

  Dyrfinna knew them, too. She and Gefjun used to fly those dragons a long time ago. Nauma grinned and waved, with the bodies of their old friends flying at her side in a limping, pathetic flight that made Dyrfinna sick to see.

  “She must have brought them, fresh from her carnage on the battlefield,” Dyrfinna said. “Nauma killed her own men to make an undead army.”

  “Yes,” said Gefjun, her voice tight. “Their cries were the last things we heard as we fell asleep.”

  Dyrfinna grimaced. She’d forgotten that Gefjun had been right there. “After she’d created her undead army, Nauma took her dragons and undead army out onto the battlefield where Varinn’s warriors were fighting against Queen Saehildr’s warriors. The undead turned half of the warriors of both forces. Just from that one attack alone, Nauma created a greater force than either the queen or Varinn.”

  Gefjun hissed. “That disgusting witch. So how do you kill Nauma’s undead dragon? Do you know?”

  Dyrfinna drew her sword. “You cut off its head. I’ve killed one, but it was on the ground.”

  Gefjun went silent at the sound of her sword ringing out of the scabbard, her back to Dyrfinna in the dragon’s seat. “I hope that is not the same sword that you used to kill my betrothed.”

  “It’s not,” Dyrfinna lied, lowering the blade just in case Gefjun turned around.

  I hope you two don’t intend to fight any more, the emberdragon said. There are more important things to do. We’re almost within range.

  “Dragon, keep your flight as level as possible so we don’t fall off.”

  Gefjun wrapped her feet around the strap. Dyrfinna resolved to get a piece of silk to wrap around the dragon’s girth when they got back.

  I’ll do my best, but this is going to be a fight after all, the dragon said.

  Nauma shouted and the two undead dragons broke off from hers, one on each side.

  “Fire at Nauma as soon as we’re in range,” Dyrfinna told Gefjun.

  “Obviously,” Gefjun said under her breath, drawing a bead.

  Dyrfinna exhaled gustily. “Up!” she cried to the dragon, “and swing to the left! Fire on the left dragon, and let’s see how hot you can make it for him.”

  The emberdragon veered fast, so that Dyrfinna nearly lost her balance. She tightened her grip on her sword and swung it in a circle.

  The emberdragon blasted fire at the oncoming undead dragon that limped toward them, its mouth hanging open. At once the undead dragon vanished inside a blast of fire and heat unlike anything Dyrfinna had ever known, even when she and Skeggi had experienced it first-hand. The heat was almost white-hot, and Dyrfinna and Gefjun instinctively shut their eyes and covered their faces on the dragon’s back. Even huddled like this, the heat was intense, and Dyrfinna feared for her life.

  Gefjun was singing protection against the heat, she realized. But even that protection was pushed to its limit.

  The fire stopped.

  The flames and the heat died down, and then they’d flown past it. Dyrfinna’s eyes popped open and she saw what had become of the undead dragon that had been turned to a cinder by that heat. The stink of burned meat and bone arose from its blackened skeleton.

  The eyeholes of the skull met Dyrfinna as if they were seeing her.

  The undead dragon was almost upon them, but its wings had been also burned to skeleton ribs. Its jaw opened, fire-blackened teeth snapping at the emberdragon.

  But it was falling.

  The webbing between its wingbones had been burned away, and nothing held it aloft now. Slowly it began to fall out of the sky, its empty-eyed skull looking up at them, its teeth snapping and snapping at them, its bony neck stretching up at them as it fell.

  “No!” screamed Nauma from her undead dragon. “My baby!”

  “The worst excuse for a human being…” Gefjun swiftly raised her bow and fired four arrows, one right after the other.

  Her arrows were true, but Nauma flung up her arm and a shining red light appeared that followed the curve of her arm in the air. Each arrow vanished into the red light with a flash.

  “Stand down,” Nauma said to the other undead dragon. “Don’t let her burn you.” Then she flung up an arm at the emberdragon, at the very moment that the emberdragon unleashed a gout of flame at Nauma and her dragon.

  The flames rebounded from the red shield that Nauma had made, and they blasted back at Dyrfinna, Gefjun, and the emberdragon.

  Dyrfinna’s cry of pain was drowned in flames. The emberdragon dropped. They fell out of the fire, Dyrfinna’s body alight with pain.

  The ember
dragon blasted flame, this time from below Nauma’s dragon. Dyrfinna thought she might have heard a scream, but wasn’t sure.

  Gefjun’s quiverful of arrows were on fire. She wriggled her way free of the straps and flung them from her, the fire guttering on them as the quiver began a long, slow fall, arrows floating up from the quiver as it plummeted, still burning.

  Gefjun spun around, looking Dyrfinna over. “Are you okay? You idiot.”

  “I’m fine. Thanks. I guess.” Actually, Dyrfinna felt like her skin was coming off with pain, but she was going to tough it out until they got to the ground.

  Besides, now Nauma’s dragon was flying at them from behind. The undead dragon dropped straight toward them, talons outstretched at their heads.

  Dyrfinna instinctively swung her sword and cut off one of the undead dragon’s feet with one clean stroke. Dyrfinna immediately twisted, bringing her sword around at the undead dragon’s neck, which was within reach, to cut off its head. Her sword struck its neck and sank part of the way in—

  But in her hurry to strike, she’d forgotten that she did not have any straps to hold her onto the dragon.

  Dyrfinna overbalanced. The blow she’d struck would have been effective if she’d been strapped in.

  “Finna, no!” Gefjun screamed, trying to turn around and grab her.

  Instead, the blow Dyrfinna swung against the undead dragon’s neck flung her backwards off the emberdragon.

  14

  Swords

  SWORDS

  The world spun.

  Dyrfinna tumbled into empty space, the wind blasting her, her body reflexively grabbing for anything to stop her fall.

  There was nothing.

  She plummeted like a stone.

  She sheathed her sword, her heart hammering, and out of desperation grabbed her shield off her back, holding it over her head to catch a little of the air and slow her down. It didn’t do a thing.

  The earth, once so small, rushed dizzyingly at her.

  But here came the dragon, diving at her side. Gefjun’s eyes were wide and panicked as she stretched a hand out to Dyrfinna.