A Crown of Flames

by Pauline Creeden

  In despair, through Dyrfinna’s tears, the only thing she could think of was how she could sell her life as dearly as she could.

  Ibn took her hand in his.

  “We were supposed to have so much fun when this was over,” Dyrfinna said angrily, drawing her sword.

  She looked up at Nauma and Gorm, who were sharing a long kiss among the undead dragons.

  But her hand on her sword froze.

  Because small flames licked the crowns on their heads.

  Dyrfinna squinted, trying to understand what she was seeing.

  And suddenly both crowns went ablaze.

  They tore apart.

  Nauma screamed as her hair caught on fire.

  The Gorm grabbed his crown with his hands and his hands stuck to the crown. He tried and tried to rip them away, but couldn’t. He tried to push the crown up off his head, but it was lodged firmly there.

  His hands caught on fire.

  Nauma shook her head to dislodge the crown, but the fire in her hair only blazed brighter.

  Their royal robes burst into flames.

  The Gorm staggered to and fro in a ball of angry white fire, and Nauma shrieked from the ground, where she lay.

  Dyrfinna could not look any more.

  She and Ibn hid their faces together as the agonized screams went on and on.

  It was a very long time before they stopped.

  When Dyrfinna finally raised her face, Gefjun was standing over them, peering down at their smoking bodies.

  Gefjun looked up at Dyrfinna, her face drawn and pale.

  “They’re still alive,” she said to Dyrfinna, as if sickened to her very soul.

  Dyrfinna got to her feet, slowly, as if in a nightmare.

  She drew her sword.

  A moment later, they were both dead. And the undead dragons collapsed where they stood.

  The emberdragon got to her feet, still staggering slightly from the effects of touching the red shield.

  Get back, all of you, she said. I need to purify … this.

  Everybody, including King Varinn, moved behind her without a word.

  Within moments she’d burned them to ash in her white-hot fire – crown, sword, and all.

  Then, with great gusts from her wings, she sent it all flying, and left the rocks clean.

  It was over.

  Dyrfinna shook her head. “What had happened there?” she asked. “What was that?”

  “The roses called us,” said Gefjun, staring into space, greatly shaken. “They called Varinn and I here. They bade us to put the crowns on our heads, and then allow Nauma and the Gorm to take them. That was all the roses said.”

  “It was a trial for them,” said Varinn. “One they could not pass.”

  31

  The Wedding Day

  The wedding was held on Friday, which was the goddess Frigga’s day, and she was the goddess of marriage. King Varinn laid out a full week for the wedding festivities, however, with many feasts and much entertainment. This also gave them time to prepare and gave time to those without dragons to travel to the keep. Barrels of mead were made for the festivities, and when Dyrfinna arrived at the keep with her friends, the place smelled of honey, bread, and roses.

  Varinn’s wedding was the most amazing event that Dyrfinna had ever seen. Skeggi and Rjupa were there, looking absolutely gorgeous together. Ibn wore his red robes of state from his old home in Córdoba, fine silk edged with real gold. Dyrfinna’s hair had been carefully braided, and she wore the dress of a commander, with a bandolier just like Hedgehog’s due to her promotion in Varinn’s army, where she was a commander and dragonrider.

  Her mother had brought her a brooch that she’d designed and their silversmith had made, a brilliant silver circle in which a woman and a dragon shared the same body. The wings were especially beautiful. Dyrfinna had just about cried when her mama pinned her sea cloak on with it.

  Mama’s face had softened. “My brave girl,” she’d said. Dyrfinna had given her Mama the biggest hug ever. And then they did cry. But they were good tears.

  So Aesa and Mama were there, and Dyrfinna had hugged them to pieces ever since they’d arrived on dragonback on the queen’s dragons. Queen Saehildr still blamed Varinn for the death of her daughter, but had fallen ill and no longer wanted to fight. With everything that had already happened, she was ready for an excuse to end the war. The sudden collapse of all the undead around the city walls when Nauma had died had been the perfect excuse.

  “We’d taken in enough refugees to help us rebuild the city,” her mama said. “Every able-bodied person was on burial detail. If we didn’t have their hands helping us, we’d still be at the work now.” And now the refugees were building houses, and helping others build houses, and were eager to help make a new life for themselves and for their neighbors there in the city.

  So Skala was in a better place than it had been for a while.

  Also, Egill had vanished. Nobody knew where he had gone.

  “He’ll come back,” said her mama to Aesa, but she didn’t say anything else about what might have happened. “He’s on a long trip for the queen.” Even though the queen had not sent him on a trip. Dyrfinna was curious about what all of this meant, but didn’t want to ask her mama.

  Dyrfinna felt bad for her little sister. He did, at least, love her. She felt sorry for her Mama, who deserved so much better.

  Gefjun was dressed in her ornaments of rank, both as a queen and as a battlefield medic. Her red hair was unbound and spread over her shoulders – the last time she’d wear it unbound – and she wore a bridal crown on her head of wheat and roses. She looked beautiful.

  Ragnarok was there, his eyes still wandering but the wound on his forehead nearly healed. He was going to be okay.

  Now that Egill was gone, Skeggi and Rjupa had stepped into his place on the queen’s council, and were helping to guide the queen to better decisions. The notice of exile against Dyrfinna had been revoked, and they had helped bring about the peace between the two kingdoms, with Gefjun representing Skala in their diplomatic works. “Now, instead of being at war, we are sister nations,” Varinn said, and everybody cheered.

  The roses were especially lush and fragrant around the great hall where the feast and festivities were held. Gefjun’s mother and father were there, and Varinn’s family had flown in from Iberia on glimmering diamond-white dragons that made everybody’s jaws drop when they appeared in the air above Varinn’s. Queen Saehildr had turned down her invitation, being too sick to attend, but other local royalty sat together talking at their special feast table. Outside the castle, the dragons sat around, jeweled dragons of all different colors talking with each other.

  “It was very hard to persuade the queen to let the dragons roam,” Skeggi told Dyrfinna, who was interested as always, “but we finally talked her into sacrificing a little blood to the dragons. And once she’d talked to them for a while, she changed her mind,” he said.

  “I’m glad,” said Dyrfinna. “So how does that work for you?”

  Skeggi grinned. “Since we’re not at war, it’s not necessary to keep an armed force on guard for ever and aye. And you’ll never guess what happened.”

  “What?”

  He caught her arm, excited. “We have a clutch.”

  “Of eggs?”

  “Yes! Three dragon eggs in our stables!”

  Dyrfinna leaned in. “We have four.”

  “I wasn’t aware this was a game of dragon one-upmanship.”

  “It’s not,” she said smiling. “But isn’t it great? And all we had to do was let them roam a little bit. Do their own thing. Visit old friends.”

  “We certainly need dragons after the last year,” Skeggi said sadly. But then he said, “So, how’s your new man?”

  “Oh, he’s wonderful,” she said slyly. “There’s so much kissing. You’ve never seen so much kissing.”

  Skeggi snorted a laugh. “It’s nice to see you happy.”

  “Now you really want me,
” she added.

  “You better stop, or I’ll tell everyone you’re drunk.”

  She picked up a glass of ale and took a little sip, staring straight at him the whole time.

  “Finna! Are you tormenting Skeggi?” Rjupa cried, sailing in.

  “Turnabout is fair play,” she said into her glass of mead.

  “Come on you numbskulls, somebody’s wedding is about to start,” Gefjun said, rushing by. “Don’t screw this up, or I’ll punch somebody.”

  “Whoo, better listen to her, let’s go.” Dyrfinna set down her cup. “Nobody drink that, it’s mine.”

  Ibn picked her cup up. “Does Gefjun always talk to you like that?” he asked, clearly shocked.

  “Only when she’s not mad,” Dyrfinna said.

  They came out of the keep to a sacred grove, where an ox was sacrificed and all the assembled guests were sprinkled with a bundle of fir-twigs. The wind stirred Gefjun’s bridal robes, and King Varinn looked very fine in his kingly apparel and his crown. Gefjun gave him a bridal gift of a sword, and he gave her a sword that had been recovered from one of his Moorish ancestors, a beautiful and strong blade from North Africa, and everyone gasped when he gave it to her and the sun made the carbuncles on the hilt blaze like fire.

  They exchanged golden rings, and fit them upon each others’ fingers, then placed their hands on their sword hilts, where they were bound together. After speaking their vows, the godi presented the married couple to the audience, and everyone broke out in cheers.

  They returned to the keep for the great feast, and Varinn swooped Gefjun up and carried her in through the great gate of the walls, and then up the stairs to the hall and carried her through the doorway into the great hall, just to be on the safe side. Then she brought him ale in a great cup, and the feasting and dancing commenced.

  Dyrfinna spent a lot of the evening with Mama and Aesa, and then Skeggi and Rjupa and Ibn, dancing (with Aesa) and talking (with the grownups).

  Finally Aesa fell asleep, and Mama carried her up to their rooms with Dyrfinna following.

  “I’m sorry to leave,” Dyrfinna said.

  “It’s okay,” said Mama as Soma opened the door for her.

  “Oh! Hello, look at you,” Soma said to Dyrfinna. “Looking so happy.”

  “I’m taking off tonight,” she explained as she followed Mama and Aesa inside. Mama tucked Aesa in, and she woke up briefly.

  “Hi, Sissy,” she said and opened her arms for a hug. They squished each other.

  “I’m going to go on a little trip tonight,” Dyrfinna said.

  “I know,” Aesa mumbled sleepily. “You told me a gazillion times.”

  “Mama will take good care of you. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’ll come back to see you.”

  “Bring me a present,” Aesa said.

  “Okay, sweetie pumpkin.”

  Dyrfinna kissed her on the cheek. Aesa wiped it away, rolled on her side, and fell asleep.

  She and Mama then hugged.

  “I’ll miss you,” said Mama.

  “I always miss you,” Dyrfinna said.

  Mama looked at her for a long time, her dark eyes scrutinizing her, that gentle smile lighting up her face, her black hair, waveless, braided in intricate braids she’d brought over from her old home in Vinland.

  “You’ve grown up a lot,” Mama said.

  “I’ve seen a lot,” Dyrfinna said ruefully. She still had nightmares about what she’d seen in battle, an inevitable part of being a warrior. But Mama didn’t need to know that.

  Then her mother took off a bracelet. “I want you to have this,” she said, putting it on Dyrfinna’s arm.

  Dyrfinna gasped. “Oh, Mama! I can’t take this.” It was her mama’s bracelet that she’d brought from her home long ago, when she left to sail across the ocean with Egill to this new land.

  “I want you to have it,” she said. “It belonged to my mama, back home, and she gave it to me when I left for this new country with my husband to be. And now I want you to wear it to your new country with your husband to be.”

  “Do you really think we’re going to get married?” Dyrfinna asked.

  Mama just gave her that mom-look for a long moment, still smiling. “You goof,” she said. “Enjoy your time together. Though I expect you probably will.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Dyrfinna said, blushing like a beacon, and her Mama just laughed, folded her in another hug, and sent her out the door. “You’re going to be fine, chicky. You are going to be just fine.”

  Dyrfinna tiptoed out of Mama’s room, staring at the bracelet on her wrist, silver with a white stone set in it. She’d looked at that bracelet since she was a baby, lying cuddled in her mama’s arms and rubbing the stone with her hands because it was so smooth. And now she was wearing it.

  She sighed, both happy and sad, rubbing the stone with her fingers. She imagined her Mama rubbing the stone just as Dyrfinna and Aesa – and Leikny – had done when they were young. And perhaps her Mama’s mama before that. And someday, Dyrfinna’s daughter would sit in her lap and play with the stone on her wrist as well.

  Dyrfinna took a deep breath. It was certainly a possibility, now.

  “But not too soon,” she said, heading down the hall. “I want to explore the world a little, first.” And her heart leapt again.

  Ibn stood out on the balcony outside the great hall, looking at the sliver of moon hanging over the sunset. “A beautiful evening,” he said as Dyrfinna joined him, carrying her bags. “And here you are to make it more beautiful.”

  “Do you talk to every girl like this?” Dyrfinna asked.

  “Only the one I love.”

  Some kissing followed that statement. It was perfectly delightful.

  A bell rang on the docks.

  “Oh! Our ship!” Ibn cried.

  “I was hoping you’d remember,” Dyrfinna said as they picked up their sea chests and dashed to the docks.

  “Hey, you were the one who was busy kissing me.”

  “You kissed me first.”

  Just then they reached the ship.

  “You both kissed each other at the same time,” complained the grumpy captain who stood waiting for his final passengers to board. “I hope there’s not all this damn kissing on my boat. I’m telling you.”

  Dyrfinna smiled. This captain was an old friend of Hakr’s, the roving sea-farer who had been one of her dearest friends. “We’ll see,” she said, and stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a little peck on the cheek.

  He turned bright red and harrumphed. “Get along with you, wee fish.”

  They set down their sea chests and stood at the side of the ship. They were sailing on a trader heading to Iberia, and then on to Córdoba. The emberdragon had her own life to live. During the parley, she’d met an old friend of hers. Dyrfinna was happy about that, too. Maybe someday she’d see some small emberdragons flying in the night sky, the way they did in the old stories, when dragons were plentiful.

  “I can’t wait for you to see my home,” Ibn said. “We have streetlights up and down the roads. Thousands of people. Beautiful architecture. And the library.” His face softened. “You’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t believe your people don’t have books. We have a place with thousands of books. We have books in every home. The caliph loves learning, and we do too. Oh, Dyrfinna, you’ll love it.”

  “Will we make our home there?” she asked.

  “If you like it enough. And there will be plenty for you to do. You can learn our style of magic. I’ll have a little position in the court. Did I tell you that? The prince is a school friend of mine, and he wants me to join him in his court. Once you learn a little Arabic, you’ll fit right in.”

  “I hope so,” said Dyrfinna.

  “He said that he needed good commanders,” Ibr said, looking at Dyrfinna.

  “Well, now, really,” she said modestly.

  “Oh yes, really. He got wind of a little battle that you fought some time ago. You know, that one where
you fought against ten-to-one odds and still managed to win?”

  Dyrfinna looked at him then. “He heard about that?”

  Ibn nodded. “Of course he did. It was a great battle, well fought. And the prince wants people like that in his army. He reads books, you see, so he knows things.”

  “I’d like to meet him, and see his army.” Dyrfinna’s mind was ablaze. New loyalties. New opportunities. New lands.

  She was ready for all of it.

  “I can’t wait,” she said, as the rowers went to their benches and prepared to row out.

  “Here’s to our new life,” Ibn said.

  And they kissed.

  THE END.

  So who is Iron Skull, that Rjupa is sickened by the though of his name?

  Who is the brave Corae, the undead dragon that Dyrfinna wept over?

  Find out in this prequel, which happened several years before the events of the Dragonriders series:

  A WHISPER OF SMOKE

  A Whisper of Smoke

  From a whisper of smoke … to an apocalypse of fire.

  Skeggi has been raising his brothers ever since their parents died last year. One respite from his never-ending work as a parent is the time he spends with his sword-friends, learning to fight and fly dragons. But during battle-practice on dragonback, Skeggi accidentally stumbles upon an invasion force of Danes, and all hell breaks loose.

  As the city prepares for war, Skeggi and his friends are sent on a mission to bring back the Queen’s daughter, who was away from the city. The sword-friends run into the forest on a perilous journey. Not only must they rescue the Queen’s daughter, but they must escape the wrath of the Dane’s commander, Iron Skull, one of the most dangerous men of Viking legend. The sword-friends have something that Iron Skull considers more valuable than gold—his thrall girl. And now he is hunting them.

  The sword-friends are going to be hard-pressed to get back to Skala … if they even survive the journey.

  This is a prequel to the Dragonriders of Skala series.

  Read on for the first chapter ….