Beyond a Darkened Shore

by Jessica Leake

  The farther we rode into the city, the more I began to dread the moment when we’d arrive at Sigtrygg’s castle at the northern end of Dubhlinn.

  As we entered the trade part of the city, the noise quickly vied with the pungent smell for most overwhelming stimulus. The pound of the blacksmith’s hammer, the throngs of people, the bleats and calls of the animals, and the rise and fall of voices in Gaelic, English, and Norse created such a cacophony that I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw throbbed.

  Rising above everything was a magnificent cathedral, with turrets that nearly blotted out the sun. It was constructed of dove-gray stone, so out of place in the dirty, crowded city that the cathedral rendered all the little thatched houses beneath it inferior. The cathedral’s construction was one of the few things the Dubhlinn king had ever done that did not enrage me.

  Leif guided Sleipnir through the narrow streets in the direction of the cathedral. Beyond the church was a castle, equally grand, with a stone wall encompassing its bailey. This, then, was the seat of King Sigtrygg.

  The closer we got to the king’s castle, the more trepidation filled me. I glanced down at my cloak in my clan’s colors of green and gold. This was the king who was at odds with my father, who had raided a monastery under our kingdom’s protection. How would he react to me? But there was another part of me—a much larger part—that welcomed such a confrontation. I was confident in my ability to protect myself, and I wanted to meet this half-pagan king, the one who would dare desecrate holy ground and raid like a Northman.

  “I hope you remember that King Sigtrygg is no ally of mine,” I told Leif. “I suspect he won’t welcome me with open arms. Or, at least, if he does . . . it’s most likely a trap.”

  “He will treat you the same way he treats any other highborn maiden,” Leif said with a wry smile. “He will offer to take you to bed. Whether you accept or not is up to you, but I would advise against it.”

  I bristled at his teasing tone. “You don’t understand. I am more than a mere maiden—”

  “How well I know.”

  “I am a princess. Princess Ciara Leannán of Mide.”

  He fell into a surprised silence for a moment but recovered quickly. “Much more than a warrior maiden, then. We are allies, you and I.” Leif’s tone turned dangerous. “If he should do something so foolish as to attack you in my presence, then I will remove his head.”

  I wrapped my incriminatingly green-and-gold cloak closer about me. We were walking into the lion’s den, but I had chosen this quest of my own free will, and I would see it to its conclusion. I didn’t trust Leif—not yet—but I did have faith in my own abilities.

  We crossed a sickly brownish-green moat, Sleipnir’s hooves echoing hollowly on the wooden bridge. Two men hailed us before we entered the bailey, outfitted in chain mail. Their hair was closely cropped save for long braids in the back.

  One of them squinted up at us, an ugly scar puckering the flesh of his forehead. “Your name, sir, or you will go no farther.”

  “Leif Olafsson,” he said, with an edge to his tone.

  “This is the one they told us to expect,” the other said. His cheeks were as smooth as a boy’s, and his hair was the color of wheat. He turned to Leif. “You are welcome here. The king was called away to another part of the kingdom, but he will give you audience as soon as he returns.”

  Leif tightened his hold on Sleipnir’s reins until the horse fidgeted. “I care little for what the king is presently occupying himself with. My men.” He enunciated slowly. “I will await them here. The lady will also need a healer.”

  The two must have sensed Leif’s rising tension because one of the guards hurried off without another word, presumably to do as Leif demanded.

  As we waited, Leif dismounted and helped me down gently, despite his obvious irritation. To my relief, I was able to stand. “You needn’t speak to them as though they were dirt,” I said with a glare. His jaw flexed repeatedly, tension evident in every muscle.

  “I’ll treat them as such until I see with my own eyes that Arinbjorn is well.”

  My brows furrowed until I realized he must mean his brother. In a gentler tone I said, “You said before, the king has always welcomed you. Do you doubt Arinbjorn’s safety?”

  His eyes flicked to mine briefly. “I won’t know what to think until I see him. Arinbjorn is loyal to a fault—he may have decided to sneak out and come find me on his own—especially if the king has been unwelcoming to my people.”

  The two guards returned, followed by a small army of Northman warriors. As I always did when faced with numerous Northmen, I searched for the one who had murdered my sister and was relieved to find none that bore his resemblance. Leif strode toward them and clasped forearms with a Northman with graying hair who was as big as an ox. The others took turns pounding Leif roughly on the back.

  As they all grinned widely at one another, I stepped closer to Sleipnir, my hand on his neck. A twinge of anger shot through me at the sight of them: the men who had killed many of my clansmen. The men who would have killed or enslaved our people and pillaged our castle if we had not fought to stop them. But now these were the allies of my ally. An image arose unbidden in my mind: of Leif’s heated gaze, and my body’s shameful reaction.

  How could I have dishonored my family so abominably?

  “What took you so long, Leif?” one of the warriors asked, drawing my attention away from my own thoughts. “We’ve all aged ten years waiting on you. We’ve waited a fortnight at least. We would have left, only the seer told us to stay.”

  The others laughed, but Leif and I shared a look. To us, it had been only three days. Anything could have happened in such a length of time. I glanced back at the entrance to the bailey. My sisters . . .

  Leif, too, seemed taken aback. He leaned toward me as though to say something, but then a commotion drew our attention to the castle keep. Someone was coming toward us.

  The Northman warriors parted, and a slip of a boy walked through, his head hung low. Leif watched his progress, his arms crossed, his face betraying no emotion.

  Arinbjorn stopped in front of Leif, eyes cast to the ground, as though he expected censure from his brother. And I remembered: Leif had said when we first met that his brother had been a stowaway. “I’m sorry, brother. You won’t tell our father, will you?”

  Leif surprised us all by laughing. “I’m sure he already knows, Arin.” He took a step forward and embraced his brother, and I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. Arin wrapped his slim arms as best he could around Leif’s broad back.

  Leif patted his brother’s head of hair, as tawny as his own, and Arinbjorn smiled up at him. After a moment, Leif turned to me and called my name. Arinbjorn’s smile quickly faded as I approached.

  He rubbed the back of his head. “This is the maiden warrior who tried to bash in my head.”

  In my mind, I saw Leif as he was when first he appeared on the battlefield, like an avenging angel, swooping in to protect his younger brother. It was becoming clear that he cared for his siblings as much as I did mine.

  Leif smiled. “If she had intended to brain you, Arin, she would have.” He turned back to his warriors. “This is Princess Ciara of Mide.”

  The gray-haired ox of a Northman roared with laughter. “Only Leif War Hammer could so easily deceive his captor into joining his cause.” He appraised me with small, dark eyes that lingered much too long on my chest, my hips, my legs. “I hope ye have convinced her to join you in your bed as well.” The others laughed riotously as red-hot anger flared within me.

  “You dare—” I started, but Leif stepped forward until he was only an inch away from the other Northman’s face.

  Leif’s face was as darkly ominous as a thundercloud. “Gunnarr,” he addressed the man, “this is no serving wench at a low tavern—this is a princess, and more importantly, my ally. Speak to her in such a way again, and I will personally make sure your next breath will be your last.”

 
; I attempted to hide the surprise from my face, but my eyes remained wide. I hadn’t expected Leif to defend me so ferociously against his fellow men.

  The smug smiles on the faces of all the Northmen disappeared as one. “You have my apologies, milady,” Gunnarr said. “I hadn’t realized how much—” He paused and seemed to choose his words more carefully. “I hadn’t realized you were an ally.”

  I dipped my head but said nothing, neither accepting his apology nor refusing it. Many of the others were appraising me openly, their eyes scanning the length of me.

  “Milady?” Just then a soft-spoken maidservant appeared at my side, giving the small army of Northmen a wide berth. “I am Aideen. I will serve as handmaiden to you during your stay. A room has been prepared for you, as well as new garments.” Her gaze flicked over the blood matted in my hair. “The men also said you’d been injured, but our healer accompanied the king,” she said apologetically. “I have some healing skills, though, and I’ll prepare a bath and a poultice for you at once.”

  The many small wounds upon my body ached, as though calling attention to them only caused further injury. “That would be most welcome,” I said.

  “Follow me, milady,” she said. She stopped short when I followed with Sleipnir in tow. “No groom has come for the horse yet? I will run and fetch one.”

  A shadow fell as she hurried away, and I looked up to find Leif towering over me. My heart raced in answer, and I scowled as though I could will away my feelings with a frown. The rest of Leif’s men were moving back toward the castle, their heavy footsteps and loud voices creating so much clamor it was hard to hear anything else.

  Even still Leif leaned close to my ear and said in a low voice, “You’ll not listen to me, but I’ll waste my breath anyway. Stay in your room tonight. Do not come down to the main hall.”

  “And why would I hide in my room like a frightened child?” I asked.

  He let out an impatient breath. “Because you have sustained injury to your head, for one. And more so, these men are my best fighters, but they lose all sense after they have consumed their fill of mead. If they catch sight of you, they will want you, and they will not care about our alliance. Do you understand?”

  If the maidservant’s frightened demeanor was any indication, they had already exhibited such behavior. I thought of Gunnarr’s vulgar words, and even though he’d seemed contrite enough when Leif had explained our alliance, I had little doubt what Leif said was true about their appetites. But these were men I would not soon be rid of. I’d have to earn their respect and guarantee my own safety—without Leif keeping me barred behind solid doors.

  “Your maidservant returns,” he said, watching the girl’s progress across the bailey. “You must swear you’ll stay in your room for the remainder of the evening.”

  “I will swear to nothing.”

  Leif took hold of my upper arms, his face determined. “You’re strong, Ciara, stronger than most warriors I’ve seen, but I can see the pain and exhaustion in your face. You should rest.”

  I pulled away from his hold. “Don’t make the mistake of treating me as a subordinate. It won’t go well for you.”

  “Don’t be so stubborn,” he said in almost a growl. “You will not heed my warning?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, unwilling to answer. Anger rose within me like a great wave, washing away the sympathy I’d felt. I might have been injured, but I didn’t require coddling.

  Aideen returned to lead me to my room, and I was saved from making assurances I would not keep. Nothing would keep me confined to my room against my will, not even an arrogant Northman.

  11

  Aideen turned out to be more than an apprentice healer. After a brief examination of my head, she declared it only a mild injury, and then prepared me a bath scented with sweet herbs. With gentle fingers, she applied a salve to my head and the scratches on my side. When she finished, my light-headedness disappeared, my wound stopped throbbing, and my tight muscles finally relaxed. I lay upon the soft bed with the intention of resting for only a moment. But as soon as my eyes closed, I was swept away.

  My dreams were full of violence. The Morrigan, tearing into the hound’s heart; Alana with her throat cut before my eyes; and even Leif’s sister, Finna, though I’d never seen her before, visited my dreams, her body gruesomely mangled.

  In my dream, I watched as Leif wept over her broken body, and my own heart bled for him. I went to him as I couldn’t do in life, running my hand over his golden head. He turned and took me into his arms, and I closed my eyes, listening to the strong beat of his heart. I pulled back to look at him, and just as his mouth was descending upon mine, I saw the red glow in his chest—the same I’d seen when I had floated above my body.

  Before I could react to the fact that I was dreaming about Leif kissing me, he disappeared. Dark mist poured into the room in his place, and the Morrigan stepped forward. She wore a headdress of black crows’ feathers, but the rest of her figure was obscured by fog.

  Find the Northman’s seer. There is a power you must master before you can complete your journey. The enemy is closer than you think. Every moment you waste brings them closer to their goal.

  What power? I tried to ask, but in the way of dreams, the Morrigan had disappeared as quickly as she’d come.

  The resounding boom of thunder awoke me, accompanied by the shouts of men. I sat up in the wide bed, my eyes adjusting to the low light of a fire burning cheerily in the massive stone fireplace. The Morrigan’s words echoed in my mind, and I knew it was more than just a dream. Was she referencing my newfound ability to float outside my body? I failed to see how that was a power—it seemed more like a liability, especially in battle. If she meant that I needed to learn to control it so it didn’t happen when I wasn’t ready, then I agreed. It could mean my death if I lost control of myself at the wrong moment. I shivered thinking of the rest of the Morrigan’s message. The enemy is closer than you think. Leif’s men had said before that their company included a seer, and though I hadn’t met her when we first arrived, I had to believe she was in the castle somewhere.

  Still dressed in the beautiful emerald-green gown Aideen had given me, I came to my feet slowly, and though the room seemed to tilt for a moment, everything righted itself after a few deep breaths. Again the thunderous boom came. Fully conscious now, I recognized it wasn’t thunder at all, but the sound of tankards banging on wooden tables. The roar of drunken men rang out beneath my room. Would the seer be among them?

  Only one way to find out.

  I touched the sheathed dagger I’d strapped to my forearm before going to sleep. Leif’s warning whispered through my mind, and for a moment I shamed myself by hesitating. Fear wouldn’t keep me prisoner here, and neither would Leif.

  The guest quarters in which I found myself were located in one of the turrets over the great room. A winding stone staircase led me down, and I yanked the heavy velvet skirt of my gown higher as I went. This was one of the many reasons I only ever wore my soft leather leggings. Gowns, though beautiful, were much too cumbersome.

  The moon hung low in the sky; it was late, much too late for such revelry. I followed the low sounds of male voices until I walked through two enormous wooden doors. The cavernous hall was in such disarray, I was immediately thankful the king wasn’t here, for he would surely throw us from his castle. Scraps of food littered every available surface; spilled goblets, empty plates, and the carcass of a pig were scattered as though hounds had been set free. But even that wasn’t as chaotic a sight as the men, who lay across the tables in a state of total unconsciousness, guzzled great tankards of ale or mead, or played a game upon a carved wooden board.

  In the chaos, it was difficult to find anyone, but it quickly became clear from the room full of burly men that the seer wasn’t here. I’d have to find Leif instead and see if he knew where to find her. But among so many men of enormous stature and blond hair, I had to search the room several times before I found Leif. He sat at the
head of the table where the game was played. Enthralled as they all were with their various activities, no one took note of me.

  With a determined set to my chin, I strode toward Leif. Before I could reach his table, though, a great bear of a man stood in my way. He licked his lips as he boldly stared at me, mead dripping from his beard.

  “Ah, the wench is lonely,” he said with a lascivious sneer. “Come down from her tower for a tumble.”

  My first instinct was to backhand him, but I stayed my hand. There was more than lust in his eyes, something more akin to bloodlust, and I would do well to be on my guard. “If you lay hands on me, I will ensure you never do so again.” I shifted to the balls of my feet, ready to move should he lunge for me.

  As though I’d shouted, my comparatively high female voice drew the attention of every Northman in the room—save those who had already fallen into a drunken stupor. At the head of his table, Leif stirred, but I could spare him only the briefest glance. My full attention was on the Northman before me.

  The man’s grin widened. “It is widely known that a spirited female is worth the effort.” He leaned forward until I nearly choked on the smell of his filthy, braided beard. “Much more fun when she’s finally broken.”