Spark (Clan of Dragons Book 1)

by Badger, Nancy Lee

  “You be doing all this to earn the right to kill a horse?”

  Evan listened intently, hearing the anger mixed with concern in Vika’s voice. He wanted nothing more than to swing from the balcony and into the open window, but not until Toal enlightened them by sharing his entire confession.

  “Nay, though killing that dumb beast was me initial rationale. I suspect that the loss of your meat and horse will put you and your brother in need of assistance. A cold winter be nearly upon us, and I have petitioned the elders for your hand in marriage,”

  “Nay!” The word fell from Evan’s mouth as he hurtled his human body through the open window, and rolled into what was obviously the bastard’s bedchamber. He jumped to his feet, and launched himself at Toal. The man had no time to draw his dirk from the sheath at his side. They tumbled to the oak floor, while Vika raced to the door. Evan thought she planned to escape the room, but she slammed a bolt across the door, locking them all in.

  Or, Toal’s men out.

  As Evan grappled with Toal, giving punches and absorbing others, Vika slammed something hard against his back.

  “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, Evan, but I was aiming for that bastard. Get out of the way!”

  Toal hit him, and Evan rolled off Toal. He jumped to his feet and as he staggered, wiped blood from over his left eye, Vika slammed a large sword on Toal’s stomach. Worried she had killed the man, which he feared would make trouble for her with the villagers, he was surprised when Toal rolled away.

  “You crazed bitch!” Toal struggled to his feet, with his hand pressed to his stomach.

  “Be thankful I didn’t hit you with anything but the flat of your sword.”

  Toal ran toward her, and Evan punched him in the jaw. He staggered, then collapsed on the floor.

  “Did you kill him?”

  Evan scratched his head, and when his fingers pressed his wounded eye, he winced.

  “Nay.”

  “I wish to get back to Orin and the injured lass.”

  “Maeve?”

  Vika’s eyes widened. “Her name be Maeve? I be glad she opened up to you.”

  “Orin coaxed it from her. Me thinks he likes the lass. We were following you, but I came upon signs of a struggle. I was unable to make Orin aware of what I found, but the lad has his hands full, caring for your cart and Maeve.”

  Pounding footsteps grew louder.

  “I pray he be smart enough not to follow us. Maeve needs a healer, and our wager will be lost if the elders do not receive our kills before…” Vika ran to the open window. “Oh dear! ‘Tis dark!”

  “We had best leave, and get you to the village. I be sure the lad be there, and you shall win the wager. We will not end this standing here.”

  Vika peered out the window and spotted the balcony and vines. “You came this way?”

  “Aye, so follow me and all will be well.” Evan exited the window and jumped to the nearby balcony. Vika flew into his open arms, and he placed a chaste kiss on her lips. She smiled up at him, then shook her head.

  “Kissing must wait, Evan. Now, we must hurry.”

  He knew she was right, but his chest lightened at the thought that she was not opposed to resuming their kiss. Releasing her, he climbed down the crumbling bricks by using the woody vines and waited for her at the bottom. The clouds hid the moon, making the area around the manor pitch dark. High above, the crash of a splintered door and raised voices grew in intensity. When she alighted from the tangled vines, he wrapped his hand around hers, and led her toward the forest. As they ran through thick branches and over fallen trunks, sleet pinged on the dying leaves above their heads.

  “Slow down! I can’t see a thing. Ouch!”

  Evan slowed, but he knew they had to outrun Toal and his men. His eyesight was adequate, but not perfect. If he changed into his dragon form, they could escape in the wink of an eye without the chance of walking into a ravine, or low-hanging branch. He had a hunch that scaring her out of her wits would not make Vika thankful to the human man for the rescue.

  “Orin be a bright lad, and he knows Maeve needs help. I be sure he realizes I left the trail to look for you, so he will head to the village. Toal boasted that he planned to win by delaying you, since stealing did not work,” he whispered.

  “You heard him admit it was his own man that Spark scared off?”

  “Aye. Unfortunately, your people don’t know me. They will not take the word of a stranger.” He paused, so she could rest for a moment.

  “Will you come to the village with me anyway?” she asked, resting her hand on his forearm.

  Evan’s chest expanded with a deep breath, giving him a momentary rush of pleasure. Vika smelled delicious, and the warmth of her hand stirred his blood. He wanted her in the worst way, but returning her to her brother was imperative. Once this silly wager was over, and they got help for the shifter’s injury, Vika would return to her cottage. He had spied her bed, and he sensed it would be more comfortable than the barn.

  “I must find Spark.”

  Of course she worried about her horse. Would she miss the animal once he shared his secret with her? “Orin be watching for him. He be a powerful stallion. Do not worry.”

  “True, he fought marauding men and wolves, but did you notice his injured thigh? He must have moved too slow, at some point.”

  “Toal’s man whipped him. ‘Tis the only explanation. I be sure he either returned to your cottage, or wherever you initially found him.”

  Vika tugged, but he did not let her stop running. “How do you know he does not belong to me?”

  “Why else compete to win a wager? I overheard Orin tell the lass, Maeve. Your brother wants the animal as much as you, so keep running.”

  They came to a break in the trees. A waterfall thundered to their right, meaning the village was somewhere downstream. He prayed that Orin had the sense to head straight to town. If he wasted time searching for his sister, Maeve might die, and Vika might lose the wager.

  “I must catch me breath.” Vika said, struggling beside him.

  He paused at the riverbank. The gurgling stream was quieter, here, but he wasn’t sure if they needed to cross it. He tried to recall the village, but his view from the sky, when he flew to town, was so different.

  “Vika, be this the stream that runs along the stables?”

  “Aye,” she said, and laughed.

  “I fail to see the humor in me questions. I be a stranger, and--”

  “I was not laughing at you.” She squeezed his hand, and stepped closer.

  The heat of her was as welcoming as sunlight, and the urge to meld his lips to hers was strong. He tamped down his desire, praying that a better time was on the horizon.

  “Me name means from the creek in Gaelic, so I have always loved streams, rivers, and the sea. Swimming beneath waterfalls be a lovely pastime, and I shall be sad, until winter fades to spring.”

  Recalling his recent swim in an icy stream, he shivered.

  She laughed again. “Aye, even in springtime, the water in these parts be cold as ice, but the sun beats down, and I love to lie about, letting it dry me skin.”

  Her skin? Did she mean that she likes to lie about naked, by a waterfall? The image burst inside his head, and he growled. Turning, he cupped her chin in the dark, while a stiff breeze blew his unruly hair. Pressing his mouth to hers, he deepened the kiss until her arms circled his neck, and she pressed her body into his.

  His secret was heavy on his mind, but now was not the time to share his history. Her reaction to his deceit might make her stop kissing him.

  Lost in the pleasure of her mouth, he almost swept aside the needs of his dragon clan. Their future depended on him to increase their numbers, yet all he could think about was tasting this woman.

  When she cried out against his mouth, and struggled against his grip, his surprise made him twist away, searching for an attacker. Seeing no one, he turned back to Vika.

  “Be that smoke drifting out of your
mouth? she whispered.

  Evan slapped a hand over his mouth, and turned away. A sliver of moonlight shone through the leaves, allowing her to see too much. Before he could offer an explanation, she pulled on his shoulder.

  “I suppose the chilly air be making both our breaths visible.”

  Evan realized only now that she no longer wore a cloak. “Did you leave your cloak at the manor?”

  “Nay, it was ripped off me when Toal flattened me to the ground.” She rubbed her ribs.

  “You were hurt by that man? I shall kill him.”

  She smiled, and his entire world brightened. Flames flickered in her eyes, startling him. Was she secretly a dragon, or--”

  “Do you smell smoke?” Vika said.

  Evan lifted his nose. His sense of smell was not nearly as strong, in this form, but he was not the cause of the smoke. The deep odor of burning wood was undeniable.

  CHAPTER 13

  Orin glanced at both sides of the trail, worried that Vika and Evan were nearby, and in need of help. He came across sets of tracks, but the groans coming from the nearly incoherent Maeve pushed him to guide Old Gray toward town. “A healer be what you need, lass.”

  When she didn’t answer, he used the whip and snapped the air. After seeing the wounds on Spark’s thigh, he could not bring himself to touch Old Gray’s rump. The snap of the whip did the job, and the pony trotted as fast as it could, considering the weight of the filled cart.

  Heading home was not an option. Without Vika, it was unseemly to take a young unwed lass to their cottage. Besides, she was hurt, and the only healer he knew of was the wife of the tavern owner. Mistress MacFingan would know what to do.

  Would the elders accept the cart filled with meat without Vika’s presence? The more he thought about her sudden disappearance, the more he feared Toal, or one of his men, had grabbed her. Toal had a competitive streak, and if he was bent on cheating in order to win, what would he do when he learned that the man he’d sent to steal their meat was probably dead?

  Orin worried that if Toal had grabbed Vika, he hoped he did not try to bed her against her will. He surmised she would never go willingly. She had shared her thoughts about the man on several occasions. His sister wanted to wed, eventually, which was another reason why he wanted to leave, and find his fortune. If she no longer felt obligated to care for him, she would find a way to create her own family, and find happiness.

  “Not with Toal.”

  “Toal? Who be…”

  Glancing over at Maeve in the dark, he sensed that her eyes were still closed. Beneath the heavy mantle of leaves, it was too dark to see much of anything, but Old Gray knew the way to the village. He felt her raise her head, then lean it against his shoulder. A cold breeze ruffled her hair, draping it around his neck like a silk scarf. She shivered, and he hoped they were close to town. When he spied lit torches near the fence that surrounded Vika’s village, he relaxed and headed for the gate.

  “We be almost there, Maeve. Stay strong.”

  When she whimpered, he grabbed both reins in one hand, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She was cold, and he felt the blood from her wound seeping into his side. He prayed they were not too late.

  “Hold! Who goes there!”

  Orin pulled Old Gray to a stop. A warrior, dressed in a leather jerkin over his wool plaide, raised a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, blocking their path.

  “I be Orin MacKinnon, with a lass in need of the healer. Make haste, man!”

  The warrior glanced from him to the slumped woman beneath his arm. The torch’s bright flame and intense heat made her cry out. He must have spotted the blood, because he immediately stepped back, and allowed them to continue into the village.

  The air was turning frigid with the promise of the coming winter, and his brief thought about Vika was shunted aside. Maeve was his concern, now. Luckily, the healer lived above the tavern where the elders met. It was always warm inside the ancient two-story building. He would find someone to guard his cart, and prayed the Council of Elders would not require Vika’s presence in order to count their kills.

  “We have arrived, lass. Let me help you down.” Orin patted her pale cheek. Firelight from many torches could not give her enough color to calm his worry. “I need you to stand, lass, while I find someone…”

  Elder Kinnon stood in the tavern’s doorway, giving Orin hope.

  “What be this I see? Young MacKinnon with a lass? I thought you would be helping your sister with her quest, not--”

  “Please, sir, this lass needs a healer! We found her in the forest, injured by some creature. We came to her aid and I became separated from me sister, but this lass needed help. May I leave our kills here with someone you trust?”

  The elder ran a hand down his bristled cheek, and looked thoughtful. Orin prayed he would help him, so he could help Maeve without the chance he’d lose their cart full of meat, weapons, and supplies.

  “I must ask. Why do you need someone to watch the cart? We cannot make a decision before Lord Toal arrives with his goods. He has until midnight.”

  “I fear his man was the one who attacked our cart and animals. Someone whipped the horse Vika be trying to save. I fear he was one of Toal’s henchmen.” Should he mention Vika was missing, and that Toal might have taken her?

  “I shall order one of our warriors to watch your cart. He will drive it to the stables and see to feeding your beast.”

  “Thank you, Elder Kinnon.”

  “You be a good lad. Now, take this lass to Mistress MacFingan.”

  Orin nodded, and helped Maeve climb from the cart. He tightened his grip on her elbow, and entered the tavern. Unna, the young serving wench, greeted him with a smile, until her gaze fell on Maeve.

  “Who be your new friend, Orin?” Unna’s haughty smile, and cool reception, were remarkable. Was she jealous? Whenever he visited the tavern, she barely acknowledged his presence.

  “I found the lass in the woods. She be injured. Fetch Mistress MacFingan!”

  Unna’s eyes widened, but she bit her tongue, tossed her light-brown braid, and marched toward the kitchen. When the tavern keeper’s wife ran into the room, and wiped her hands on her kitchen apron, Orin’s relief was palpable.

  “I see Orin has saved another creature.”

  Orin grinned. He was known to bring home an injured bird, or motherless deer. “Nay, this be Maeve. She be bleeding from an injury to her shoulder. Please help her?”

  The healer’s face softened, and she gripped Maeve’s elbow. “Lass, let me tend to your injuries.”

  Maeve glanced from her to Orin.

  “Go with her. I need to check on Old Gray, but I shall return. Please?”

  Maeve nodded, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.

  Orin’s face heated, and he winced. Mistress MacFingan winked at him, then led Maeve toward the stairs. She would tend to the wound, and put her to bed. Orin did not want to think of Maeve in a bed. When an image of her pale skin, resting quietly beneath a wool blanket filled his head, he turned and fled.

  The stables were quiet, and someone had parked his cart in a corner. Old Gray munched on a bucket of oats, while a warrior stood nearby. Orin recognized the man. He had fought with his father in several battles, and he was the one who had brought his father’s body home.

  “Hail to you, Sinna. ‘Twas you who fed Old Gray?”

  “Aye, Orin. Be that your catch?” He nodded toward the cart.

  “Aye, Vika and I hunted in order to win a wager. ‘Tis very important no one takes it.”

  The warrior’s brow creased. “A thief in our village?”

  “Sometimes the need to win can make a man do despicable things. If you can keep watch, I found an injured lass that Mistress MacFingan be tending to, and I wish to see how she fares.”

  The warrior’s smile widened.

  “Nothing like that, but I cannot be in two places at once. Old Gray be fine, but if me cart of meat goes missing…” He nearly adde
d like me sister has, but he did not know for sure if that was the case.

  “Do I see a boar’s snout poking from beneath that canvas?”

  It was Orin’s turn to smile. “Aye, and a big and ornery one, he was. Why?”

  “I will stay and watch over your cart all night for a haunch of boar and both tusks.”

  Orin nodded. A warrior would use tusks as part of his weaponry, or to adorn his targe. In battle, a Highlander brandishing such a decorated shield would cause the enemy to turn and run. Some meat and a couple of tusks was a small price to pay to have a warrior like Sinna watch over their meat.

  He would check on Maeve, eat something, then consider how to find Vika. He wiped his feet inside the tavern door, and nearly swooned at the aroma of roasting hens and flaky meat pies. Several older men, members of the elder’s council, were enjoying an early supper. Night was at hand, and Vika was still missing, but his rumbling stomach won out.

  Grumbling to himself that he was not a very good brother, he ordered dinner from the tavern keeper. He sunk his teeth into a chicken leg and tossed back a tankard of cider. The cider reminded him of the apple orchard on their farm. Autumn was harvest time for their crop, and he should be home, caring for their property. The sheep would be fine for several more days, as grazing was still good. He’d forgotten to ask Vika if she’d taken the time to feed the stock during her short visit to change clothes.

  “All alone?”

  Orin glanced up from his meal. Unna smiled at him, then she glanced beside him.

  “Your friend be elsewhere?”

  Now she wants to talk? “Friend? Oh, you mean Maeve? Mistress MacFingan be seeing to her wound. She bled all over me.” He pointed to his shirt.

  She gasped, then tossed him a damp cloth.

  “I thank you.” Orin wiped at his shirt, as he finished his meal and drink. “I must check on the lass, then…” He did not wish to share his fears concerning Vika. If the elders decided her failure to appear was cause for her to lose the wager, he would never allow anyone to kill Spark.