Spark (Clan of Dragons Book 1)

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “You always say I should stay far from these hills, sister. What has changed your mind?”

  “There be two of us, and we carry many weapons. Besides, if we aim to win the wager, we must hunt in an area that our clan has not overhunted. Few come here.”

  He nodded, and clicked his teeth, sending Old Gray farther down the narrow trail. Telltale signs meant deer had passed this way recently. The bushes looked nibbled, and fresh droppings dotted the trail. After entering the meadow, they traveled across the open area, until they reached the rocky base of the peaks, and kept clear of the peat bog to the south. Getting the cart stuck would end their hunting trip, and Spark would be put to death. When she spied a stretch of overhanging rocks, which offered a protective place to sleep, she motioned for Orin to stop.

  “Unload our supplies and look for ways to cover, or hang, the food satchels. If we be out hunting together, we do not wish to lose our provisions to marauding vermin.”

  Orin nodded, jumped from the cart, and carried items into the shallow cave. “I brought some dry wood, but I shall gather more. I want no excuse for missing your fine cooking.”

  Vika checked the saddle, fed Spark and Old Gray, then made sure the water skins were tightly hooked to Spark’s saddle. With her quiver settled on her back, she grabbed her bow, and hung that from the saddle. Inside the cave, she searched for another apple. Orin returned, and stacked the wood beneath the outcropping to keep it dry.

  “This should hold me until supper. Orin, if you can kill several rabbits, I will make a stew for our supper. I will hunt ‘til then. I plan to bring down a deer or two while I scout for a boar.”

  “I shall set some snares nearby, then head out with me crossbow. I sense several deer be foraging nearby. We must search for water, as well.” Orin unhitched Old Gray, then tied him to a bush that struggled to grow beneath the rocky overhang. Spark stood quietly, as if watching them.

  “I hope the stallion be well used to being ridden. I would hate to have him rear up and throw me the moment I come across a boar.”

  “I would like to ride him, as well, Vika.”

  “If he doesn’t kill me today, you shall get your chance on the morrow. In the meantime, kill as many animals as you can, and get them back here.” She did not wish to part from Orin, but they could hunt better separately, and catching the most game would win the wager. She silently cursed Toal, and prayed that at the end of three days, they would prove victorious. Not him.

  “You must help us help you,” she whispered, as she scratched Spark’s ear. The animal made a snuffling noise and gently pressed his velvety nose to her chest. Mounting him was easier in breeches. They all headed north, along the deer trail, then Orin turned west, and headed off on foot. She waved good-bye to her brother, wished him well, and silently prayed he returned at dusk, safe and sound.

  ***

  Vika returned to their cave to find Orin tying the hind legs of a very large stag with a length of rope he must have thrown into the cart. “I forgot about rope. It will do us no good if our meat be taken by wolves, or other predators.”

  Orin threw one end of the rope up over a spindly tree’s highest branch, then pulled. He raised the carcass over his head to keep it off the ground. “What other predators?”

  “Toal and his minions.”

  Orin laughed, then his expression turned dark. “They would not dare steal our catch.”

  “We be talking about Toal MacMorgan, aye? The man be a blight on our clan. I fear we best keep close to our kills. Come help me with mine.”

  Orin pulled the two deer carcasses off the back of Spark. Both were does, and gutted, leaving a trail of blood over the horse’s back. “You be bloody, as well, lass.”

  “Aye, ‘tis a messy job. Did you locate a stream?”

  Orin nodded. “’Tis not far, and has a waterfall, and a fairy pool

  “I’ve heard tales of fairy pools.”

  “It drains into a shallow stream, fine for bathing. How did Spark do?”

  She dismounted. “Spark was a perfect hunter. I think he has a good nose for finding prey, and he runs silent through the trees.”

  “Then I shall enjoy riding him on the morrow.”

  Vika bit her lip, and helped her brother hang the meat. She had concerns for his safety, but it wasn’t fair of her to keep the stallion to herself.

  “Did you get me a rabbit?”

  “I need to check me traps. I carried water from the stream, and wanted to hang this deer, so I have not had a moment to look. I shall start a fire, first. Why don’t you two head over there and wash up?” As he unsaddled Spark, Orin pointed the way to the stream.

  Grabbing his halter, she led Spark through the trees and toward the thunder of a rushing waterfall. When they broke into an open area, the breeze was moist and cool. She removed her vest and spread the laces of her shirt, and relished the sweet-smelling damp air as it caressed her sweaty skin.

  “How lovely!” Before leaving their camp, she had picked up several ragged pieces of cloth. She knelt on the grassy bank, and dipped them in the rushing water. The stream was narrow, and the water gurgled, as it traveled in small waves over rocks and broken branches. The current wasn’t too swift, and she yearned to dunk her entire body beneath the surface. As tired as she felt, she feared she might fall asleep while bathing.

  Pushing to her feet, Vika wiped down the horse’s rump, until no trace of blood marred his glossy coat. When her fingers smoothed the fine copper-colored fur near the dark figure on his back, Spark whinnied softly.

  “I didn’t hurt you did I? You act more appreciative then pained.” She rinsed the cloth then wiped away as much blood from her torso and hands as possible without fully submerging herself. “Mayhaps, if the weather holds, I shall bathe tomorrow.”

  Spark raised and lowered his head in quick succession, as if agreeing with her words. The beast was smart, and she prayed he would keep her brother from harm tomorrow. She’d seen evidence of a large boar in the vicinity. Roast pig would taste wonderful, but first they needed to bring it down without killing themselves or injuring Spark. It would help fill their cart, and possibly win the stupid wager.

  Toal agreed to adhere to the same guidelines. They had agreed on one companion, but she would not put it past Toal to have more than one hunter helping him win the wager. He was an evil, dirty man whom she had loathed the first time he made his intentions clear. Was it wrong to hold on to the hope of finding love with a good man? She would have to be destitute, homeless, and starving before considering Toal’s company.

  “I be so tired, I don’t think I can eat me supper. Hungry?”

  Spark snorted, and pawed the ground. He did not eat the grass growing thick and green along the bank. He had to be thirsty, so she led him to the edge. He drank his fill, and followed her back to the cave. Sniffing the air, her stomach growled. “Seems I was a tad hasty about being too tired to eat.”

  A fire burned, and a pot of water bubbled beneath their tripod. Orin was beside a gorse bush, skinning a rabbit.

  “That’s a large one, and will make a fine stew.”

  “This be the smallest of the three I snared! ‘Tis a good place to hunt rabbits.” Orin’s smile at their good fortune made her heart swell. He was a decent lad, and had become a savvy hunter. If he kept snaring rabbits, their cart would fill quickly.

  Vika tied Spark beside the pony. “I saw boar sign, today. Killing one would do us good, in this wager. When I smelled one, Spark didn’t shy away from the scent. When I spotted those deer, he did not hesitate to chase them down. If you find a boar on the morrow, he will be a big help.”

  “You will let me ride him? Fantastic! I’ll rub him down and feed both horses while you fix our dinner.”

  Vika nodded, then dug through the satchels for a potato, onion, and several carrots. She chopped them into chunks and tossed them into the pot. She butchered the skinned rabbit and tossed the chunks into the stew pot along with some blood she had collected in a bowl. Pulling out
a large chunk of bannock, she pulled it apart to share the wedges with Orin. The crusty loaf would act as spoons for the thickening stew.

  Since fresh water was plentiful, she drank her fill from the water skin, then unrolled her bedding of thick furs. Finished, she sat on a log Orin must have dragged into their little cave. She could stand up beneath the rock overhang, but Orin was taller than her, now. How had she not noticed his journey into manhood had already begun?

  The aroma of bubbling stew filled the cave, and her mouth watered. The piece of oatcake she nibbled on for breakfast and the apple she had shared with Spark was not enough. Weariness gave way to hunger.

  Orin returned from rubbing down Spark and Old Gray, and dumping feed at their hooves. When he joined her on the log, he sighed.

  “You sound weary, brother. I hope you have the energy to eat.”

  “Have no fear, sister. The stew smells good. I will eat, then find me pallet. ‘Twas a long day and I had to drag that stag to the cave on foot.”

  “Well, I had to shove those deer onto Spark’s back. He was a wee bit skittish at first, but might have reacted to the smell of blood. Overall, he performed quite well. Take care, tomorrow. I fear the boar be lurking nearby. Kill it, and our cart shall be weighed down very well.”

  “Aye, Spark and I will have fun, too. Will you be fine hunting on foot?”

  “I can scramble up a small tree, if need be. Don’t worry. Fetch two bowls, and let us eat.”

  They downed the stew amid yummy sounds, and wiped their plates clean with wedges of bannock. She showed him which satchel held more of the oatcakes, in case he and Spark rode out before she awoke. Orin kissed her cheek, and was instantly snoring beneath his blankets.

  Vika, on the other hand, was restless.

  She walked over to Spark, and stroked his glossy neck. The last vestiges of daylight had disappeared beyond the forest to the west, and the dying flames of their campfire made his coat glisten like molten metal.

  “We shall win the wager, and you shall live.” Spark looked at her with eyes that flashed like flame, and he stomped the ground.

  “You agree with me?” she asked, then felt foolish. He was a beast, but his coloring reminded her of the stranger who had trespassed on their farm.

  The more she thought about him, and his broad shoulders, the more she realized he was not of her clan. No one she knew had odd markings along their spine. Could it be a scar, or burned flesh? No villager sported hair the color of Spark’s coat, yet the stranger did. Many of her clan were red-haired, like herself, but most were shades of dull brown to black. One or two warriors had golden hair, but they had died in the same battle as her father.

  Thinking about men long gone was a useless waste of her hopeful heart, and the weariness of the day had her throwing several logs on the fire, then she headed to her bed of soft furs. Before she could close her eyes, twilight turned shadows into shapes, and the stranger stared down at her.

  She blinked, and the image was gone. Sighing, she tried her best to let sleep take her, but she tossed and turned all night. She’d ridden a good distance, and hunted as successfully as any of their clansmen, but the quarry of her dreams kept his distance.

  CHAPTER 6

  Two days until the wager ends

  When damp, cool morning air chilled her body, Vika awoke. The furs were strewn at the foot of her pallet, and Orin was no longer snoring. Pushing up, she hastily tidied her braided hair, and wiped sleep from her eyes. She pulled on dry stockings and her boots. Standing, she slipped her sgian dubh into the top of her boot, and headed toward the fire, which had died to embers.

  “No hot breakfast, today,” she said. Old Gray snorted, but he had feed and fresh water within reach, which meant Orin had cared for the animals as she slept. Orin was gone. He’d taken Spark and his crossbow. She prayed his luck continued, and they both returned safely.

  After a quick nibble on oatcakes and water, she dug in the satchel for an apple. She swallowed several bites of the tart fruit and tossed the remainder to Old Gray. The horse seemed content to stay tied beneath the overhang. Orin had gathered branches and brambles while she slept, and they ringed their little camp like a Scottish castle’s bailey wall. “I guess I did fall asleep, because I never heard him build this. It should keep the wolves from the hanging carcasses, and Old Gray.”

  After she slung her quiver of arrows over her back, she grabbed a length of coiled rope. She picked up her bow, and a skin filled with water. Heading out, she pushed aside a small section of the makeshift fence, then closed the gap. Last eve she had told Orin she would follow the trail that led to the waterfall. In the early morning hours, with fog clinging in the branches just above her head, stealth was prudent. If a doe or stag appeared at the stream for a morning drink, she looked forward to adding its carcass to their hunt’s accomplishment.

  The hours passed slowly. When the sky filled with the colors of the approaching sunset, her arrows had found their way several times. The bounty she would add to their cart had grown. Four pine martins, several rabbits, and two female red deer made for a long, slow trudge back to the cave.

  Vika was covered in blood. She’d gutted each animal within moments of bringing them down. Leaving their entrails in the forest, or meadow, was better than having their scent wafting up near their camp. She had not noticed any sign of predators, but she would not take the chance. Besides, it made each of her kills lighter.

  She had brought a rope, and dragged the deer behind her. The other animals hung from leather cords about her neck. The blood had soaked through her vest and shirt, meaning a bath was in her future.

  At camp, there was no sign that anyone had disturbed their hanging meat, or camp. Old Gray whinnied, as Vika carefully opened the fence. When the pony stamped the ground, she tried to sooth her, but realized the animal could smell the blood drenching her clothes.

  Vika hung her small kills from a lower branch, but the deer would have to wait until Orin returned.

  Was he safe? Was he having luck hunting? Or, had Spark bucked him off, and left Orin lying in a ditch?

  “I be overreacting, again.”

  ***

  Evan’s stomach growled, which was no surprise. What little grain Orin had fed him and the pony, that morning, was barely enough to sustain a huge dragon like him. He missed the tart sweetness of the apple given freely by the hand of a beautiful woman.

  Was Vika beautiful? It was hard to know, since he knew so few humans, but every time he looked at her, something inside him stirred to life. He had hoped to learn more about her today. Unfortunately, Orin had fed him, saddled him, and led him away from their camp, before he could catch sight of her.

  Orin kicked his ribs, and Evan returned his attention to the task at hand. Listening to Vika talk with her brother had resulted in understanding that they were hunting in order to win a wager, and save his life. He needed to help them in this quest. He doubted anyone could overpower him, and put him to death. He would shift into the human or his dragon before that could happen. Still, Vika and Orin vowed to win his freedom, and he was prepared to help them.

  He galloped through the brush and brambles, jumped over several downed logs, and listened to the whoops and hollers of the lad upon his back.

  “We be flying!”

  The joy in his voice made Evan want to smile, but horses didn’t smile. They didn’t fly, either, but Evan did his best to race through the forest, carrying the lad over every obstacle. When they reached a small stagnant pond, Orin pulled him to a stop. Evan didn’t think the water was safe to drink, so he flared his nostrils, looking for something to eat. A scent on the breeze reminded him of what Orin had brought to the cave last night. A rabbit!

  His stomach rumbled, and he gnashed his teeth. The urge to chase down and eat a rabbit grew, and the moment the bushes on the opposite side of the pond shook, he took off.

  “Whoa, Spark!” his rider cried, but he was too ravenous to take heed. Heading around the pond’s banks, he followed th
e smell, until the rabbit shot out in front of him. When the furry beastie spied him closing in, he ran. The chase was swift, and Evan raced all out, flying over logs and bushes.

  Freedom had never felt this good, except maybe when he and his brothers flew above the clouds. They would dip and turn, and pretend to attack each other. The rabbit shifted direction, and headed closer to the stagnant water.

  The moment Evan turned sharply to the left was when he recalled that he no longer had talons. He slid in the muddy grass that surrounded the pond, and nearly fell. As he regained his balance, Orin flew out of the saddle. Concern for the lad brought Evan to a complete stop. He turned back, and trotted over to where Orin lay sprawled on the muddy ground. If the shouted curses were any indication, he was fine. A low growl was the only warning either of them had, before a huge red wolf charged Orin.

  Without hesitation, or his dragon scales, Evan charged the growling beast, intercepting its attack on the lad. Barely aware of the human struggling to get to his feet, only the wolf filled Evan’s vision. Without talons or fangs, he’d have to use his hooves. It had worked on the creepy bastard, Toal, during his attack on Vika.

  As the wolf prepared to leap on the boy, Evan reared above it and slammed his front hooves onto its back. The crack of splintering bones, and the tang of fresh blood drove Evan to strike again, and again.

  “Whoa, Spark! Stop! The wolf be dead!”

  Evan stepped back, and bounced his rump against the prickly trunk of a tree. Pain wracked every muscle. Shutting his eyes, he lowered his head, and willed his heartbeat to slow. The lad was safe, and the wolf was dead. When Orin patted his neck, and tightened the saddle’s cinch, he took a breath.

  “This carcass be a bloody mess, and might draw more wolves. We should take it with us.”

  Evan wasn’t happy staying anywhere near the dead wolf. If he was alone, he could shift back into his natural form and make a quick meal of it, then have the rabbit for dessert. However, he dare not leave the lad. As Orin worked with a rope to pull the carcass toward Evan, he hung his head lower, trying to catch the rabbit’s scent again. Instead, he nuzzled a patch of green grass beside the pond. It smelled sweet, so he took a bite. His horse taste buds perked to life, and he continued to feed while Orin tied the bloody carcass behind the saddle.