Brother Of The Dark Places

by Miranda Bailey

  “I know, my queen. I miss you too, but this is my world now. And Taka is going to need me. He has a lot of moving around to do.”

  “As long as you’re happy my dear.” The queen’s thoughts were already returning to the task ahead of her. “Until next time, then.”

  I took Aska in my arms as she ran to me. Not long ago she’d have cut my head off before she’d even think about running into my arms. Now she was my soul-mate. “Brace yourself.”

  The warning came too late. We all fell to the ground once again as the fairies left for their own world, leaving us all to our lives. Without Airitech to threaten us ever again. There was no escape from oblivion.

  Epilogue

  Aska

  “Are you sure, Aska?” Abigail asked me, her eyes sparkling with joy.

  “Yes, Abigail. It’s been three months now, and well, I’m certain I’m with child.”

  “Holy hell, we’re going to be due around the same time then!” Abigail stood up and hugged me tightly to her. “Have you told Taka yet?”

  My sister was visiting me in my new home in Taka’s world. Rebuilding had been delayed as Taka insisted that Wruin’s lands be restored before his, but now we had our own home again. Ours was the last to be rebuilt, Taka had wanted his people in their new homes first, as well. Now, we had our home, one we’d built together. As one.

  “I can’t believe we’re going to have our babies at the same time.” I said, with a grin. “No, Taka doesn’t know yet. I’m waiting for a visit from Ingrid to confirm it.”

  “She’s really blossomed hasn’t she?” Abigail caught sight of the girl coming up the path to the house and we both studied her.

  Beautiful, sweet, and kind, Ingrid really was the definition of what a healer should be. “Hata’s finally kissed her you know?”

  Since the battle the teens had matured exponentially, and the fighting that had once driven Taka mad had stopped.

  “No, I can’t believe it!” Abigail stage-whispered. “And what news is there of Endre?”

  “He and Thyra are in one of the eastern lands. She wanted to know more about our people, so he’s taking her around to show off the magical world.”

  “I would love to do that one day. Maybe when we’re older and can take our children.” Abigail patted her tummy, a delighted smile on her face.

  “At least they’ll grow up in peace. Without the burdens we bore.” I whispered, the words, but Abigail heard me anyway.

  “I wish I had known about you, sister.” She took my hand across the plain kitchen table we sat at, and gave me a pained look. “You’d have loved my mother.”

  “I bet you miss her.” I’d heard many stories now about Doreen, and wondered who my own mother might be. I knew I’d never find out, but I could hope that one day I might.

  “I do. We have a future to look forward to now, though, so let’s not get maudlin.” Abigail went to let Ingrid into my home, and I smiled.

  All those months ago I’d have killed anyone that tried to suggest this was my future. Happily carrying a child, madly in love with my mate, and content for the first time in my life. Sometimes, Taka still had to soothe me through memories masquerading as nightmares, but usually, that was the only burden I still carried. He had eased my soul, soothed my mind, and made my body his in a way I found pleasing. Because he was mine, every bit as much as I was his.

  Together, we were complete. And now that the kingdoms were united by the brothers of the dark places once again, we were all as one. The world was a beautiful place and was only going to get better.

  The End

  Riever

  A Memory From The Dark Places

  Note From The Author

  As always with my work, I have taken some liberties with dates, times, mythologies, and dogma. I’m a writer, it’s what I do, I say cheekily. I do hope you enjoy this little glimpse into Endre’s past and the revelation that is Riever. And also, if you really want a kick in the pants while reading this, find Lana Del Ray’s “Young and Beautiful” and put it on repeat while you read…

  - Miranda

  The Saga Of Riever

  Dark gray clouds raced across the sky, I was a warrior in my previous life, before I was a slave. I ran my own household, provided for my servants, and my village. I took care of them, protected them, and was my own person. Before I was a slave.

  They called me Riever, I no longer remember my real name. Orphaned at five, I’d spent my youth running between the mud-riddled streets of our village, scrapping with the other orphaned children for cast-off onions and forgotten dried out bread that hadn’t quite soaked up the flavor of the mud. One day, after a week of being too small to fight off the other children, and not quick enough to snatch up scraps and run away before I was caught and beat up, I changed my life.

  I walked into the home of our chief, a large home with a thatched roof and two rooms, hoping to go unnoticed. I made my way to the cooking area on stealthy feet, wrapped only in the scraps of leather I’d rescued from the tanner’s leavings, and snatched an apple that seemed to have been forgotten. I felt my heart racing in my chest, racing far faster than my feet, as I took off from the fireplace, heading straight for the entryway, when I ran into a wall.

  A wall that turned out to be our chief. Despite my tiny size, and my lack of fighting skills, I tried to take on the full grown man, I pulled at his beard and kicked at his knee, but all I got out of my troubles was a sharp bark of laughter and a bear hug. That only made me angry and increased my struggles.

  “Come now, little Riever, do you think you can take on the chief of your tribe? Calm yourself, little thief. What have you taken?” The chief, a tall and broad man with ginger hair twisted in a knot of braids, looked at me with eyes of sea green. I’d seen him before, his face marred by a diagonal scar from a battle long since forgotten, his face fierce and terrible. He normally kicked his way through our village, bellowing out his fiery rage at the slop of mud under his feet and the lack of battles to quench his thirst for blood. Today was to be different, though.

  The man that usually struck fear into every villager, man, woman, or child, orphan or with living parents, had laughing eyes and a soothing air about him. I looked at him with mistrust, my heart a pounding, swelling, knot in my throat. He could end my life right now, the pilfered apple tucked away in the bag I kept across my chest the crime that ended me. I didn’t see death in his eyes, though, only pity.

  “I took nothing, chief.” I whispered, my anger burning as hot as the pain in my empty stomach. I only wanted an apple, yet, I was bound to die for it now.

  “You took that apple that was sitting above the fireplace, didn’t you? It’s there, in the bag on your chest.” He didn’t search me, he only looked into my eyes and gave me a penetrating look that melted away my lies.

  If I must die, I would face it with honor. Like he would.

  “Yes, my chief. I was hungry, and so I took the apple.” I can still remember how I shook as he held my tiny body to his, a fatherly grip that I hadn’t felt since my parents died of some illness that swept through the village.

  “Why didn’t you come to me and ask for food? I always have plenty.” It was an honest question, I saw after inspecting his face, not one that would lead me into a trap.

  “The other children said you would not give us so much as a speak of barley to chew on. I asked when my parents first died in the last plague, and that’s what they told me.”

  “Wise beyond your years, aren’t you my girl?” He looked at me, sadness in those eyes now.

  “I don’t know, my chief. I only know I’m hungry.” My head dropped then, to hide my shame at being so hungry I’d stolen from him.

  “Right, girl, go get your little orphan vagrants, and bring them to me.” He stooped to set me down and my cheeks burned when I saw my grubby feet had left mud all over his fine tunic. “Hurry now, go get them.”

  “Yes, my chief.” I ran off then, thoughts swirling in my head.

  Did he wa
nt witnesses for my death? Was he going to chop off my head and make them watch so all would know not to steal from the chief, not even a bruised apple?

  I could run, I decided, and keep running. Surely, I could find roots in the dark forest, the kind my mother used to feed to us during our leanest times? Or maybe there was a witch out there, one that would take me in and teach me her ways, so that I could carry on her traditions. I looked at the dark forest, a place of evil tales and horror, and shuddered. I’d rather face my fate with the chief.

  I quickly gathered up the other six orphans and we walked slowly back to the chief’s home. I kept my eyes down, even when the other children gasped, and walked until I saw the tips of the chief’s leather boots. A fine pair of boots that probably kept his feet warm and dry, unlike my scraps of leather.

  “Ah, my little Riever has returned. Look up child, there’s nothing on that floor but mud and fleas.” His voice sounded jovial, as though he were amused.

  I supposed he liked killing little children then, and that he must be mocking me. That burning anger almost spurred me to turn and rub, but his strong hand on my shoulder stopped me cold.

  “Look up, child. Looking at the ground will only lead you to death. Look up, and see the world before you.” His words held weight, a weight I didn’t yet understand but would in time.

  I was afraid I’d see chopping block, or maybe a even a rope hanging from the support beams, but instead, I saw a full meal spread out on the table. A thick, hearty soup, roasted venison, and crusty loaves of bread all but twinkled at me from the table as I gaped.

  That was the first of many miracles the chief performed. The second was giving us all a place to sleep. After that, he made us child soldiers, warriors for the use of the king, the most loyal warriors of all because the chief took us out of the filth and mire and gave us our own home. We had a foster mother, a round woman with red cheeks and a jolly smile, unless we’d been naughty, then she could be a tough taskmaster, making us scrub and clean until we’d learned our lesson.

  I grew up with a new life, a new mission, and when the Vikings came, I thought we were ready for them. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Our small, coastal village was overtaken in minutes as we stared at the strangers. My mates and I, we orphan warriors, knew better though. We knew the dragon ships brought only death, and had taken battle stances.

  They came, screaming and with madness in their eyes, axes raised only to drop them on unprotected heads, on soft shoulders, and warm, breathing chests. Before our eyes the villagers went from living breathing people, to dismembered bodies, and a stray hand or foot elsewhere. When the raiders, these Northmen, reached us, we gave our own battle cry. Teenagers one and all, we threw ourselves at the round shields of the invaders, these madmen, and fought until we could fight no more.

  I, dressed in the leather armor our chief had given all of us, fended off short sword attacks by diving and planting my own sword in the knee of my attacker before I turned and plunged it into his heart. When an axe swooped down to remove the burden of my head, I spun, planting my blade in his spine. He fell, lifeless and nameless, beside me. A quick glance showed me my best friend, Elspeth was down, her blond hair a violent shade of red from her leaking head wound. Her brother, Will, had fallen as well, only identifiable by the hart insignia on his chest armor. The others still fought, and my attention was taken by a giant with eyes the color of verdant green grass in summer.

  I did not know his name, or who he was, but I knew when I saw those eyes that my battle was over. They were wild with anger, wild with bloodthirst, but when he saw me, his entire face changed. The eyes calmed, blinked at me with curiosity, and then he spoke. Somehow, he knew our language, but it didn’t occur to me to wonder about that until much later.

  “Put down your weapon, girl.” His voice was strong, soothing, and I wanted to do as he said, but my will was stronger than that.

  I stood there, the sword raised so that the blade rested against my face, ready for his attack.

  “Come now, girl, the battle is over.” I looked around, saw the screaming women being tied together, the few men left on their knees, and the bodies of so many I knew, lifeless and going cold.

  “It will never be over, raider.” I snarled, but I knew I was defeated.

  “Follow me.” And so I did.

  I followed him to the long boat with the fierce dragon helm where I learned his name. I followed him through long, cold, wet days over the open water, over water I’d never been on before, where I learned to turn to him for comfort. He kept me warm, and safe from the others, with his own body and a huge fur cape. I didn’t want to be near him, though he smelled clean, unlike my own countrymen, but I needed the warmth. I accepted my fate from the moment Endre looked at me.

  I followed him to new places in my own land, where my body began to yearn for more from him than his warmth. I’d watched him bathe and learned to follow his lead. His smell began to haunt my dreams and one night I found my hand between his legs, a hard fullness filling my palm. It reminded me of my sword hilt, but I knew it wasn’t. He put his hand over mine and stopped the awkward, inexperienced gripping and releasing I’d found myself doing and told me to go to sleep. I knew what sex was, I’d experienced the quick couplings my countrymen thought were mating, but I’d never actually wanted to touch a man as I touched this one.

  I thought about it on the long voyage down the coastline of my country, and wondered why I wanted to slide my hips over his and take him inside me. He and his mates had killed my people, yet, I wanted to mate with him? I couldn’t understand it, or the way he touched me in my dreams, but I didn’t question it. I just wanted it.

  I woke up one night of the long journey back to his homeland, and found his hand between my thighs. He’d covered us with two furs earlier in the night, and now our bodies were twined together. I could feel him, hard and ready against my belly as his fingers delved into me, and made me gasp. I felt hot, liquid, in a place that I normally didn’t even know was there. I felt an ache that only Endre could promise to ease.

  “Are you a witch, Riever, is that why I can’t look away from you?” His eyes pierced my soul as his fingers pierced my body.

  All I could do was gasp beneath him, words would not come while he was stroking me into another world. I clenched the furs in my fist when he bit down into my neck, just enough to spark an ember of pleasurable pain.

  I pushed the fur up, needing fresh air, needing to have space from him, from the ache within me for something that I could not name. His fingers slid into me easily, and out of me slickly, while his palm ground into some part of me that only I had ever touched before. A secret place that I’d never even looked at. I stared into the blaze of his green eyes, my own gold ones wide and afraid. Afraid of what he was doing to me, of what he was making me feel. Afraid of it all, because it meant I might have to be alive once more.

  I heard a groan from him, a sound of surrender, and then he was over me, encompassing me, and the world was no more, because Endre was my world. He filled me completely, hot and thick, and I rocked into him. I no longer heard the creaking of ropes and wood, the snores of men and women able to sleep, I only heard his breath as he succumbed to his own will and took me.

  His hands clenched at mine as he drove into me, holding my hands away from him, away from his body. I wanted to clench the silky flesh of his sides in my fingers, I wanted to rake his back with my nails, I wanted to suck the very taste of him from his own skin. I found his mouth on mine at the same moment his thumb found that secret spot once more and I lost even him as I flew into oblivion.

  I felt my body writhe, I felt my walls clenching around him. Beyond that, I felt pure, undiluted pleasure. He drove into me, his thumb unrelenting between my folds, as his tongue devoured mine. I could not release the scream of my own surrender, I could only hum as he began to pulse within me, joining me in a heaven of our own creation.

  Breathless, sweaty, and totally his, I could only stare at the stars
peeking through the strands of fur in wonder. I would follow him into any battle, as long as he did that to me again.

  In the end, I followed him to a new land far from my own where he finally made me the slave of his betrothed. I could not be his wife, I could only be her slave. I watched him as he left me with the blond goddess he was set to marry. My head screamed at him, don’t leave me, where are you going, come back for me, but he did not turn around. Not until after she’d learned the secret I’d kept hidden from so many.

  When other girls were following the paths of the boys, my eyes had always followed the footsteps of the other girls. I was with Astrid for several months when she discovered my secret. The sky had turned dark and the snow piled high, and only saw Endre from afar. I’d see him chopping wood for her fire, or at the table of his king, his long hair clean and twisted into fierce braids. Astrid had taught me how to tie my hair in their tradition, and now I did the same.

  “Riever!” She called out to me in the darkness. “Leave your warm spot by the fire and come to my bed. I’m freezing!”

  I’d barely spoken a word since Endre had come into my life, but my face often told my thoughts. I looked back at her, sitting up in her bed, and knew she could undoubtedly see the fear in my face. I’d gone to her, because to refuse her wishes would be death. Astrid was kind, unlike many of the other people of the North, but she had her limits. I went to her, climbing in beside of her.

  She smelled of spring flowers and hay as I pulled up behind her, tucking my body snuggly against hers. She shivered in front of me, so I put an arm around her waist to pull her tightly to me. I felt her heat in my palm, a warmth that spread through my hand and up my arm. I tried not to breathe on her, but she tilted her head in just the right way, a way that was almost an invitation.