Viking King's Vendetta

by Sky Purington

  “Spirits are everywhere lost and confused, wandering aimlessly,” Emily whispered, her words intended for both him and Håkon as she opened her mind so Sven could see what she did. “It’s terrible.”

  That was an understatement. Men, women, and children staggered about, caught in some strange limbo that obviously made no sense to them. Some were still where they died, blades rooted deep. Others continued fighting one another as though they had no idea they had passed on. From what he could tell, all was truly in disarray.

  “The two worlds are crossing over far more than they should,” Håkon said. “It makes me wonder which of the other Nine Worlds we might merge with.”

  “Right,” Emily agreed. “It’s as if the two ashes have scrambled everything.”

  Sven scowled at that. Restless spirits were one thing, the home world of dragons was quite another. Or so the stories said. Based on the dragons he had seen at the base of the evil Yggdrasill, he would say those tales embellished very little. He tried not to think about how he was leading Emily straight to what he suspected was the very doorway to Múspellsheimr.

  For the most part, their descent through the forest was uneventful. Every once in a while, a random cluster of people would pass, some friendlier than others. One such ragged group was heading further into the mountains to escape the Årud tribe and their newly appointed king.

  “They’re a vicious lot,” Davyn muttered.

  Sven couldn’t agree more. Not only were they more violent than most but they counted many. Also, regardless of how untrue, they claimed a good deal of the southwestern shores of Norway as theirs. Which meant they were bound to become a problem sooner rather than later.

  “What do we know of this new king, Magnus of the Årud?” Davyn asked, directing his question at Sven because he knew full well his brother had spent a lifetime making sure he understood the various regions and their tribes. Kjar likely possessed the knowledge too but understood it was best their kin started turning to Sven for answers.

  “He is more a mystery than most,” Sven provided. “The youngest of ten siblings, he worships Loki and prefers trickery and discretion above all else. A valiant and vicious fighter, he spins tales around himself so that his very name strikes fear.”

  “How do you know he’s the one spinning the tales?” Emily asked as Håkon helped her down a steep incline.

  Sven frowned, not overly pleased where the conversation had gone so quickly. But he was determined to embrace their new friendship, and that meant being truthful. There should be no secrets between them. He was to treat her like the adult she was. “Because I knew one of his sisters.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him as he leapt down behind her. “I didn’t know we had Årud among us.”

  “We don’t.” Though tempted to look away, he kept his eyes with hers. “We crossed paths on one of my ventures. She had defected from her tribe and provided a lot of useful information.”

  “Did she?” Emily murmured. Her eyes narrowed a mere fraction as she understood that he enjoyed a bit more than just useful information. Instead of getting huffy as she would have in the past, she smoothed her expression, nodded and spoke with almost no inflection of jealousy. “Good because it sounds like we’ll need it.”

  He wanted to explain that Brynhild Årud had been more of an acquaintance than anything else but knew better. It was best left alone unless Emily asked him directly. What mattered most right now was what he had learned from the Årud woman.

  “Magnus is not the sort that feels the need to lead his people into battle,” he continued, speaking to everyone as light rain began to fall and heightened the pungent aroma of spruce. “He is a grand strategist and a cunning manipulator. So it’s no wonder he was made king in the absence of his father.”

  “But he is not dragon,” Davyn grunted, clearly interested in all of this despite his lackluster response. Not surprising considering his love for strategy, mystery and cunning.

  “Nor are we dragon...or at least we’re not supposed to embrace it,” Halla reminded, a spark of interest in her voice now where it had been lacking before. It seemed she had taken on her new non-magical mission with relish. Not being able to embrace her dragon or her powers would be a challenge and an excuse to express her ferociousness with a weapon rather than her talons.

  Sven was about to share more about Magnus when he heard the sound of a blade mid-flight. Acting on instinct, he leapt forward and grabbed the hilt of an ax seconds before it hit Emily. Remaining perfectly silent until he knew what he faced, he spun, assessed the daunting situation then whipped the blade back.

  Fortunately, it met its mark in the chest of the man who had thrown it.

  Unfortunately, there were no less than fifty more where he came from.

  Even worse? Every last one was an Årud warrior.

  Chapter Ten

  HER HEART BEGAN to race as the woods filled with seasoned warriors. Though they attacked hard and fast, they were methodical rather than rash. But then coming across a Sigdir, whether dragon or demi-god, was no small thing. They might not be using their magic, but they were large and fierce, not one of them under six-foot-seven.

  Some of the warriors engaged directly, where others held back, gauging each Sigdir’s strength. Kjar was a roaring monster that dealt no less than a fatal blow if you got too close. Davyn seemed to enjoy the sport of it, implementing a bit more flourish to his blade swings. Halla was simply overjoyed, laughing and roaring as she rushed at anyone willing to engage her. Håkon was more reserved and most definitely more methodical as he made clean swipes.

  Sven was just as Emily remembered him and she couldn’t stop a smile as they fought alongside one another. He was vicious and ruthless but above all a genuinely talented fighter. So much so that he could fight numerous men at once, wounding some just enough to savor their distress before he turned his wrath back on them later.

  Every so often, he would glance her way and nod in approval, glad to see she had remembered her lessons. How could she not? He had taught her everything she knew and had done so very well. So said the ease in which the battling came. She killed three in a row in record time before she ducked beneath the blade of an oncoming warrior, then kneed him in the balls before driving her dagger up into the tender flesh beneath his chin.

  The fifth one nearly nicked her, but Håkon got him first, kicking him to his knees in front of Emily so she could finish him off. They fought ruthlessly pulling together as a team. In the end, their enemy didn’t stand a chance.

  “Loki’s cock, that felt great!” Halla cried in triumph as the last Årud warrior fell beneath her blade.

  It really had. All of it. Emily grinned and nodded at Halla in agreement as she wiped blood from her blade then sheathed it, glad to be in her Viking garb again.

  “We need to go.” Sven didn’t meet her grin as he scanned the forest with narrowed eyes. “Where there are some Årud there are bound to be more.”

  Kjar nodded, and stole a few choice weapons off the dead, urging them to do the same.

  “The Årud have a signal to communicate what just happened then?” Davyn asked.

  “Yes,” Sven replied. “A scout always remains apart from the fight, observes and flees to alert others if the battle is being lost.”

  “We’re still a day’s walk from the Ancient’s Lair,” Sven continued. “So it would be best if we get to the Cave Catacombs before they start tracking us.”

  The Cave Catacombs were an intricate network of caves that ran up and down the coast and through the mountains. Where most Scandinavian tribes knew about certain portions of them, only Sigdir and Ancient dragons had them fully mapped out and knew their secrets.

  They were about to head out when Emily stilled and narrowed her eyes on the first warrior Sven had taken down with an ax. The one who had nearly killed her. He was still in the throes of death and not entirely gone yet.

  “Look,” she murmured as she crouched in front of him, peering at the dragon tat
too on his neck. “Is that what I think it is?” When Sven crouched beside her, she glanced at his tattoo, her eyes widening. “What the?...”

  The tattoo on the man’s neck looked just like the female dragon tattoo on Sven’s arm. The one depicting Emily. That’s not what alarmed her though. What was truly troubling was that the tattoo of her on Sven's arm had evidently faded at some point during the battle but seemed to be returning as the man’s breathing grew shallower and death neared.

  They glanced back and forth between Sven’s tattoo and the man until he took his last breath. When he did, Sven’s tattoo returned to what it had been, and the enemy’s vanished.

  “Why do I get the feeling your tattoo of my dragon would have been the one to disappear if this guy had succeeded in killing me?” she murmured.

  Though Sven kept a neutral expression and tried his best to keep his thoughts from her, she still caught most of them. He feared for her because it was clear this man had been marked to kill her. Some sort of assassin. So now not only were they dealing with mysterious tattoos inking their kin, vanishing leaders, worlds crossing over and an evil Yggdrasill but assassins?

  “We should go,” Kjar persisted. “And get to Vigdis so we can find out what the seers know. Whatever it is, it was daunting enough that Aella wouldn’t even risk sharing it telepathically.”

  Sven took Emily’s hand and helped her up as he met her eyes. “Do not let this overly bother you. Remember, as long as we stand together we can overcome this.”

  She nodded, not surprised he was trying to calm her when he was so distraught himself. Before they left, Sven searched the man to make sure he had nothing on him that might tell them who sent him. As expected, there was no evidence.

  They didn’t come across any more Årud’s as they traveled and made it to the Cave Catacombs by late afternoon. She had always enjoyed exploring these with Sven when she was younger. Sometimes narrow and twisty, sometimes cavernous, they were vast and varied with countless places to hide. They passed waterfalls here and there. One, in particular, made her smile.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that one,” she remarked over her shoulder to Sven, at last breaking the silence that had settled between them.

  Though she did well to keep it deeply repressed, she was still mulling over him having slept with Magnus’ sister. While she certainly felt a twinge of jealousy, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. No, she mused, as she brushed her fingers over his carving of her, it definitely didn’t eat her up inside like it might have years ago. Not because she desired him less, but because of their conversation last night. She squeezed the carving. And because of this.

  “It was a special day,” Sven agreed, speaking about the waterfall she had commented on.

  “Yes it was,” she replied, eying it fondly then the ledge of the cliff across from it. When she first traveled back in time so long ago, she had jumped from that very spot into Matthew’s waiting arms. What made it such a defining moment, though, was that she ended up shifting for the first time during that leap.

  “I’ll never forget your reaction, Sven.” She chuckled and shook her head, remembering how his teenage dragon sort of stumbled then hung there awkwardly, because he was in such a rush to follow her down. So worried about her.

  “I had only just shifted for the first time myself shortly before that,” he reminded, but there was amusement in his voice. “And it is a difficult area with the wind shear off the waterfall.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder, letting him have that one yet again. It was the same weak excuse he’d been using for years. But it didn’t dispel the fact she was grateful he had been there. Because as they soon discovered, he had been the one her little dragon responded to best. He had helped her through the bizarre transition of shifting for the first time before anyone else could. His were the first dragon eyes she looked at through her own dragon eyes. She would never forget it. How impactful the moment had been. She could tell by the look in his eyes now that he was thinking the same thing.

  They walked for a while longer before they stopped momentarily at an exit overlooking the ocean. The weather was peaceful now, but she sensed a storm on the horizon. Sea salt rode the gusty wind and brine scented the air. She inhaled deeply, yet again enjoying being home. Maine was lovely, but it wasn’t this. A time before so many people lived on this planet. She wasn’t so sure she bought into global warming or even cooling, but she knew the environment was different. Fresher now than it was in the future. More invigorating.

  “So there was no pain or any other sensation in your tattoo before or during the battle earlier?” Kjar asked Sven again.

  Sven shook his head. “No, nothing at all.” He gave Kjar a pointed look. “But that is wise of the enemy, is it not? There is less of a chance I’ll be forewarned of an assassin’s attack.” He glanced at his tattoo. “The fading is far less obvious unless I’m constantly looking at it.”

  Very true. That’s why Emily had tried her best to keep a close eye on it since then. Now her neck muscles were sore from looking over her shoulder so much. She rubbed her neck, trying to work out the knots as she continued to fret. She wasn’t concerned about the female dragon but the male. She feared it fading which meant someone was after Sven. Or so that was the assumption.

  Evidently aware of her plight, Sven took over and began massaging her shoulders and the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and bit back a groan of relief. Gods, she had forgotten how good he was at this. Yet as his talented hands worked their magic, she became overly aware of the heat of him behind her. How strong and tall and close he was.

  “This is not meant to be suggestive,” he said softly. “I just know you’ve been worrying too much.” Then he teased her most likely trying to put her mind at ease. Not so much about the tattoo fading but because, much to her embarrassment, the scent of her arousal was irritatingly unstoppable. “Even without craning your head to admire me so much, this is where your tension goes.”

  He was about to say more but ended up stepping away abruptly.

  “What is it?” she asked, frowning. She thought they were in a good place. Well, an awkward I-wish-you-couldn’t-smell-that sort of place, but a better one regardless.

  “Nothing.” He shook his head and cleared his throat before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked to the sea as if contemplating what lay on the horizon. At first, she thought it was to simply will away his erection but realized it might be something else when his dragon eyes flared and didn’t go away.

  “What is it?” she began again, but he cut her off with a shake of his head and sharp words. “Go join the others, Emily. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Frustrated, she eyed him for another moment before doing what he asked. Now wasn’t the time to get in a tiff. Not when they needed to get along now more than ever. No sooner did she join the others when she felt Davyn and Håkon’s unease.

  “What?” She rounded her eyes at them. “Did I miss something?”

  “I think we should keep moving along,” Kjar said with a sigh as his newly troubled eyes went to Sven.

  She frowned at Håkon in question. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “I cannot answer that for you, Sister.” He appeared ready to bolt he was so uncomfortable. For that matter, she wouldn’t be surprised if both he and Davyn embraced their dragons and hightailed it out of here despite their orders. Håkon looked anywhere but at her as he continued. “Sven should tell you. He is the best choice.”

  Choice for what? You would think she had lost a limb and everyone was afraid to tell her.

  “Tell me what?” When she looked at Halla, her cousin only shook her head in confusion.

  “We must go,” Kjar insisted again as he started walking.

  “Uncle Kjar,” she called out, her voice stern as she crossed her arms over her chest and wouldn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere until someone fills me in on what I missed.”

  “Go on,” Sven said to everyone as he fin
ally pulled himself together and joined them. “Emily and I will be behind you.”

  “Good,” Davyn and Håkon said at the same time before they bolted after Kjar. When Halla peered at Sven curiously, waiting for an answer as well, he shook his head and ushered her along. “This is between Emily and me.”

  She sighed and eyed Emily with hope. “Yes? Just you two?”

  “I guess so,” she replied, perplexed.

  “Fine then,” Halla muttered, scowling before she flounced off, calling over her shoulder, “Fill me in later.”

  “You got it.” Arms still crossed over her chest, Emily turned on Sven. “So what will I be telling her about later?”

  He started to talk then stopped. Then he started again before stopping again. She was about to coax him along with some select words, but he finally came out with the last thing she expected. And when he did, his voice wasn’t quite right.

  “Did your mother ever talk to you about going into heat?”

  Oh. Odin. Help. Her.

  “Enough said,” she managed before she strode after the others, her cheeks on fire. Of course, her mother had talked to her about that. It meant her inner dragon was ovulating for the first time. Something that happened long after her human half did.

  Damn it, what crappy timing.

  This meant not only would she attract non-related dragons from miles away but be in full-fledge lust herself anytime now. When that happened, her inner beast would seek out the male dragon that appealed to her most and have sex with him. And she had no doubt whatsoever who that would be.

  Meanwhile, she was getting ready to walk into a lair full of non-related male dragons.

  As if they didn’t have enough problems already.

  “Gods, why now?” she muttered, shaking her head. She could already hear Bodhran drums pounding in the Ancient’s Lair they were so close. She could smell the unique smoky scent of far too many virile male dragons in one place.