“You be a bottomless pit, dear brother. Let us find something to fill your belly, but don’t touch the bannock. They be for the trip. You do not mind having to go hunt with me?” Vika filled the horse’s bucket.
Orin pulled the barn’s rear door shut, and rested the bolt in its holder. “Of course I shall help you.”
***
She smiled at him as she straightened the horse blanket, then they headed out the front door of the barn toward the cottage, pulling the main door shut behind them.
Orin pushed open the heavy door, and nearly wept. “The aroma of crusty bannock be overpowering.”
Vika followed him inside, and shut the cottage door, and bolted it against intruders. When she recalled Toal’s hand against her flesh, and sliding down to touch her breast, her skin crawled.
“Be you well, Vika?”
She shrugged off the less-pleasant thoughts. The warmth and heavenly smells in their cottage wrapped around her like a warm woolen blanket, after getting caught in a storm.
“The horse be worth saving, Vika. And a haunch of boar, and a side of venison, will get us through the winter. Near the Black Cuillin Hills, the leaves on the trees be already changing to gold and red.”
“Stay out of those hills. You promised our da not to go alone. ‘Tis filled with beasties, and a dragon or two.”
“Don’t tell me you believe those old fairy tales? ‘Tis rumors and fantasies. Stories meant to scare bairns and lasses like you. Wolves and wild boars be all the danger I understand.”
Vika cursed under her breath.
“What? I didn’t quite catch what you said.”
She had turned to the hearth. A pot bubbled, and the scent of root vegetables drifted up. “I asked if all the meat be gone?”
“Aye. I have been so busy with the chores at the stables, I have not had the time to hunt or trap. Though I detest Toal and his wager, Vika, it has come at an auspicious time.”
“We shall win, and fill our larder.”
“I’ll drink to that!” When Orin glanced at the wine skins by the door, Vika shook her head. “Not tonight. We leave early, and I do not wish to strap your drunken body to the cart.”
“You be no fun.”
Vika sighed and scooped the thin stew into two bowls. Potatoes, onions, and a few carrots would have to do. As an afterthought, she ripped off a wedge of fresh baked, crusty bannock, and placed it in front of her brother. When his eyes lit up, she smiled.
“You’re the best sister in the world.” He dug in, and emptied the bowl before she had a chance to check if the broth had cooled enough to eat.
“When you be finished, choose your weapons, and gather clothes. We shall hunt for three days and spend two nights in the forest. After you hitch up Old Gray, gather some dry firewood, and hay for the horses. A lean-to might be a good idea, in case of rain.”
“I know how to pack. Da taught me before he…”
Her brother’s words drifted off, and the cottage grew silent.
Their father was dead. He’d headed off to war, and was never seen alive again. With their mother long dead, Vika had taken care of the cottage, the animals, and her brother. When things were difficult, many villagers helped them by trading food for work. Caring for several horses in the mews behind the Morbhan Tavern and the open-sided stables by the creek was hard work, but kept them in meat. Except, the last of the meat was gone, and Toal was sniffing around.
“Did you tell Black MacFingan I cannot feed the horses while we be gone?” Caring for the beasts in the two stables owned by the tavern keeper was their only income.
“Aye, he knows. When I asked to borrow the cart and pony, he said word of the wager had spread through the village like wildfire.”
“I wonder who let it slip. Toal?”
“If he did, or even if he did not, the entire village has heard of our wager. He will be more determined to win. Losing a wager to a lass? He would never live it down. We must keep on our toes. I hope you don’t allow Toal to take advantage of you. He might cheat.”
“He wishes me in his bed. If I say aye, many of our worries would disappear. Along with me freedom, and me soul.” Her throat closed, and she tried her best not to cry.
“Stay away from him. We will survive fine without his so-called charity.”
Her brother was a proud young man, just like their father. Tomorrow would be a test of their abilities as hunters, and the food would get them safely through the coming winter. Sparing the life of the copper-colored stallion was a bonus.
After she washed the bowls, and Orin climbed into his bed in the loft, she laid out her clothes for tomorrow. The first time she wore her da’s old deerskin breeches, she had hesitated. Women did not dress as men. Many of their clansmen wore plaides while hunting, or riding into battle. Their da had worn his heavy wool MacKinnon plaide into battle. The short wool wraps were common on men, but showing bare flesh was not allowed on women. A long skirt would only hinder her ability to ride or hunt.
Besides, only Orin will see me dressed so brazenly.
The sorrow over the loss of their father, and the chance of watching Spark die, overwhelmed her, and the tears fell like rain. Wiping them away with the back of her hand, she straightened her shoulders. Tomorrow, she was off on an important mission. A good night’s rest was in order.
Sleep did not come.
***
Evan stomped the ground, hungry again. Whatever the female had dumped in his feed bucket was barely enough to sustain a dragon. Even in his current form, he needed meat, and plenty of it. He nearly had mutton for dinner, but his temporary masters had discovered him among the sheep before he had a chance to shift into his dragon form, and pounce.
He wanted to talk to his brothers, but they could not communicate if he stayed in this form. He contemplated shifting into a human. Though he understood most of the language, his brothers did not.
Dragon it shall be.
Tugging with his teeth at the knot holding him to the post, he pulled it free. When they left, the humans had closed the barn’s front doors from the outside. Nudging the door proved unsuccessful. He trotted to the door to the paddock, which Vika had bolted. Using his nose, he pushed the bolt loose, then shoved the door open just enough to slip into the paddock. It creaked, and he hesitated, then trotted out into the night.
A crescent moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the grassy meadow, turning everything silver. He trotted to the fence, and whinnied. A low rumble proved his brothers were nearby, and that they understood the horse was actually Evan.
Standing still, he thought of the hunters that had killed his brother’s mate. Could he shift into something similar? The entire experiment would be for naught if he could not conjure a human that would please a lass like Vika.
He wanted to be similar to the warriors he had seen in a bloody battle, months earlier. Several had limped off the field, but most died. He did not take advantage of their bodies. Nothing about them was appetizing.
With his memory locked on their muscular forms, he attempted to shift into a human. Concentrating, and hoping his hair would match the color of his horse’s form, he brought on the shift.
Vika seemed to think his horse-shifter form was handsome. She would eventually see him in the human form he created, because that was the only way to mate with her. He wasn’t quite sure how the manly bits worked, but if he made Vika want him as much as he already wanted her, she would help him with the ways of human coupling.
The shift took little time to finish. Evan had closed his eyes the moment sparks of intense light shot from his body, and the cracking snap of bone and sinew made him wince. He successfully urged his horseflesh to twist, until the fur, tail, and long nose disappeared, and he had transformed into a human male.
The light faded, and a sliver of moon shone down on Evan’s naked flesh. No fur, no scales, just muscle and bone. All night sounds had quieted, and he turned in a circle to see if anyone had witnessed his transformation. As he moved, his horse blanket tumble
d to the grass. Glancing down at his nakedness, he shivered. No fur or scales meant nothing between him and the chilly night air. He would take the blanket with him, but he could not climb with it.
He threw the blanket over the rustic fence, and struggled to climb after it. The human legs were muscular, but he had gotten used to four legs. Talons would really help on the uneven wooden fence constructed of thick branches. His feet encountered sharp edges, and pain shot up from his toes. He carefully made it to the top. Swinging a leg over, he jumped down, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
“Better.”
He walked into the trees that encircled this side of the meadow, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. A human’s nose was not nearly as sensitive as a horse, or a dragon. When he opened his eyes, he was looking into the open jaws of his brother, Dougal.
“Do not bite me, brother.”
Dougal’s jaws snapped shut so close that his hot breath tickled Evan’s human nose. The older dragon’s growl rumbled deep in his scaly chest, and Evan knew that Dougal understood his words.
“Great. We need to talk.”
Dougal melted into the dark recesses of the forest, and Evan followed.
***
A noise woke Vika. She did not move from her pallet, until she was certain she was awake. “Was that a creaking door? A growl?”
She sprung from the bed, slipped a cloak over her nightclothes, and stepped into her boots. “If wolves be after the sheep, we’ve a big problem.” Wolves normally kept to the hills, and she had never had a problem with them killing her sheep. She, Orin, and their father had built a sturdy fence of cut limbs and downed branches. It was tight enough that a lamb could not slip through it, and high enough to keep predators at bay. It required repairs at times, and she worried that something had broken through.
Creeping to the cottage door, she raised the latch, and headed to the paddock. She should have grabbed a weapon, but she only killed for food, or in self-defense, and only thought to see what had made the noise. Scaring away wolves was not something she knew how to do, but first she needed to see if whatever made the noise was actually a threat to her animals.
With the barn door still closed, the way she had left it, she walked around the side of the barn to check on her grazing sheep. When she approached the fence that separated her from the sheep, she squinted, and peeked through two horizontal branches. The moonlight only illuminated a portion of the fence circling the meadow, but the white balls of fur that were her sheep seemed fine. Several slept beneath a tree, and others grazed. At the far side of the grassy paddock, she spotted movement.
A large figure climbed the fence, heading out of her meadow. When she realized she was staring at the naked buttocks of a stranger, she slapped a hand over her mouth.
He jumped to the ground on the far side, near the forest. Though a tall man, her fence obscured most of his back and legs, but not his coppery hair and wide shoulders. Some sort of dark marking covered much of his back, along his spine. It looked familiar, but she only caught a glimpse. When he wrapped some kind of throw around his shoulders, she sighed.
Who was this person? Their cottage was far from other homes, and no one lived in the dark forest. Where had the growls originated? She worried that wolves had made their way down from the hills, but the man walked into the trees, and did not act concerned for his life.
“Then I shall not worry for his safety.”
Vika returned to the cottage, and bolted the door. Snores drifted down from the loft, meaning Orin still slept. She threw a brick of peat on the coals, stripped down to her nightclothes, and headed back to bed. Beneath the wool blankets, her body warmed, and she fell into a fitful slumber.
In her dream, the stranger’s coppery hair and wide shoulders slowly morphed into her horse, Spark. They rode along the coast, while moonlight danced along the waves. Her blood raced, and her womb clenched, all the while wishing Spark would turn back into the muscular stranger. Loneliness was a sad affair. Granted, Orin was good company, but when she thought of Toal and his roaming hands, her eyes snapped open.
A shadow passed by her bed, and she peered into the dark confines of the small cottage. Her blood raced, this time in fear, but a stray thought of the handsome stranger’s naked backside made her rub her thighs together. Had he broken into her home?
How do I know he be handsome?
To quell her anxiety, she searched beneath her pillow for her dirk. When another brick of peat hit the hot coals, and flames erupted in the hearth, she recognized her brother. He knelt beside the hearth, and stirred the coals. The room grew lighter.
“Orin, you scared me witless.”
Her brother chuckled. “I be sure that does not take much.”
His giggle reminded her that he was but a young lad, yet his voice reminded her of a young man. He was growing up too fast. She struggled into her shirt and breeches while still beneath the blankets, and swung her feet to the side of her pallet. Though the air grew warm, the wood floorboards were ice cold. She pulled on wool hose and her boots.
“Very funny, brother. I be glad you have awakened. I need to scout the paddock, though ‘tis still dark. I saw someone on our land.”
Orin jumped to his feet, and a burning cinder rolled onto his boot. “Damnation and Hell fire!”
“Kick it into the hearth!”
He did, and brushed ashes from his boot.
Vika grabbed a broom and swept some errant cinders back onto the stones of the hearth.
“Do not scare me, sister. Who did you see and what did he harm?”
“I saw a man climb out of the paddock at the far end, and walk into the forest. I didn’t recognize him. His…er…back was to me the entire time. I thought I heard a wolf howl, and investigated.”
“You hear a wolf and you go investigate? Alone? Why did you not wake me? I be the man in this family. The responsibility be mine and--”
“Nay. We be a team. I wanted you well rested for our journey. Let us scout the tracks together, but best to lock up the cottage and barn as we leave.”
Orin nodded, and grabbed an apple as he headed to hitch up Old Gray. Vika found another apple, and finished stuffing their food into sacks. After tucking her sgian dubh in the top of her boot, she felt reassured. The small dagger would never kill a four-legged beast, but could be put to use against a two-legged animal…such as Toal. She grabbed her bow and quiver, and carried them to the barn. She tossed half an apple into Spark’s food bin. He swallowed it, then nuzzled her chest.
“I dreamed you had disappeared again. I know you wish to leave this dreary barn and head out to hunt as much as me. There be odd things going on in the hills beyond the nearby forest, but we must fill our cart with meat, and beat Toal at his game. If we fail, you die.”
Spark reared up on his hind legs, as if he understood her words. She noticed his halter had come untied, and his blanket was gone. He could have hurt her, or Orin, but finally settled all four hooves on the barn’s dirt floor.
She gently raised her hand and petted his neck. “Easy, lad. Orin and I shall do our best to save you.”
After filling the sheep bins with extra food, and the trough with enough water to carry her farm animals through the three days, Vika walked to where she had spied the stranger. The semi-darkness wasn’t of much help, but she spied the horse blanket on the far side of the fence.
“How did…” The stranger had taken the blanket off Spark? He could have stolen him as well! Had he untied the stallion, but Spark had fought back? That made sense, since only the blanket was out of the barn.
She gingerly climbed the fence, grateful she wore breeches. She grabbed the blanket, and returned to the front yard. Orin had hitched up Old Gray, and was carrying food and weapons to place in the cart. He had saddled Spark, and tied him to the back of the cart. Da’s old saddle seemed to fit his broad chest just fine.
“Be you ready?” she asked Orin.
“Aye, just let me grab a cloak from the cottage.
”
Vika followed him inside, and grabbed her own hooded cloak. The morning fog would be thick, until the breeze off the sea turned it into thick, low clouds. The sun might burn it all away. She suspected the autumn weather would turn on them in a thrice. Nights in the forest could grow cold, so they needed to be prepared.
She latched the cottage door behind them, then looped a chain through the door handle and wrapped it tightly around a post. She snapped a lock through the chains and turned the key. Returning to the barn, she placed the key above the doorjamb.
“All set.”
“You locked the cottage?”
“Aye, I told you I saw a stranger. He stole Spark’s blanket, and I think he tried to take him, as well. I found him untied.
“Bloody Hell!”
“Language, please.”
Orin’s cheeks reddened.
She climbed onto the cart’s wide bench. Orin joined her, then flicked the whip in the air, high above the Highland pony’s right ear. They left their little farm with Old Gray at the lead, and Spark following behind. They had three days and two nights to fill the cart with meat and save poor Spark. She prayed Toal would not succeed in his quest to kill Spark, or bed her. She would rather die than see either fate come to pass.
CHAPTER 5
Three days until the wager ends
The forest was deep, dark, and slightly threatening. Vika had not hunted for many months, and never in this area. She hoped Toal and his men kept to the forests near his manor, and left these hunting grounds alone. The air beneath the canopy of oaks and pines was cool, but not unpleasant. Boughs of the sweet smelling pines were a deep green, while the leaves of the other trees were beginning to change. Gold, yellow, and red leaves joined dry brown leaves littering the trail. Soon no leaves would remain overhead, and winter snows would fall.
She shivered at the thought.
When they approached the end of the trail, she could barely make out the Cuillin Hills in the distance. Thick fog ringed the craggy peaks. Villagers had described the area as jagged peaks above a valley filled with low-slung gorse bushes, peat bogs, and open meadows. Vika was curious to see if this area was actually full of wild boar and red deer, and had hesitated before directing her brother to travel here.
Spark (Clan of Dragons Book 1) Page 4
