by Kate Pearce
Brimir considered this before speaking. “Even though they travel by foot they beat us here, which means their horses—whatever they are using is fast.” He spit on the ground.
Brimir glanced at him. Steinn had an idea what the old man wanted to do. If they wanted to get ahead of whatever was coming and protect the next city in the Outlands, they had to get ahead of whatever had left here.
Reluctantly, he left Drifa to join Brimir. The older warrior was glancing about the ground. He scanned as well for any clues. There were no weapons on the ground. No shields or anything else. Just charred ruins. Something jutted from the ground at a distance so he walked to it. When he plucked it out and brought it back, Brimir peered at it with interest.
“What is it?” Brimir asked.
“It’s similar to the piece of metal you showed us yesterday.”
A charred part marred one side. The other side reflected the light from the afternoon sun. Whatever it was, the invaders had used a mighty weapon to bring this city down.
***
Not long after they arrived the sky opened to rain so they rested for a bit.
Steinn scanned their camp. Hrafn’s dragon, in particular, had made itself comfortable. The overweight beast eagerly reached for the travel pack on its back, pecking at it while Hrafn took a leak behind a boulder. The warrior managed to snatch the food away before Magr took his food, provisions and all.
“That dragon could miss a meal or two,” a soft voice said from behind him.
“Dragons need to keep up their energy,” was all Steinn said. He kept his back to her. He’d made a mistake earlier when he’d enjoyed riding with her—Knurre not so much—but he’d enjoyed her company. He couldn’t let that happen again.
“I can only imagine this place used to be beautiful with such a view,” she said.
That it was.
Meanwhile, Magr tried to peek around Hrafn to see where he hid his food, but gave up when Hrafn tossed the pack near Knurre. The white dragon slept or it appeared to sleep. None of the other dragons bothered to rest next to it.
Beyond Knurre, the ledge dropped precariously to the Red Steppe Desert. Out there the land was cruel. The Raudr River they had passed was the last water source he knew of beyond the desert. Even his uncle did not take him past this point during an eastward jaunt.
That world hadn’t been meant for him though. He had travelled east to this point and then ventured north. Something about the cold called to him. It was different compared to the dry heat in Muspellheim. Niflheim had a part of his heart as much as Drifa’s.
It was Knurre who had called to him and not the Women of the Frost though. While he’d hunted for his own ice dragon, he’d seen them—not Drifa—but what remained of the Women of the Frost. What he’d seen had frightened him more than seeing what was left of the buildings here.
He’d witnessed that the witches had great power. Drifa had such power, too.
“Do you have any food?” her question was tentative, as if she hadn’t wanted to ask him. “I can ask Hrafn.”
He grabbed his flask of water from his pack and some dried meat. She took it without words and found a seat not far from him. The skies overhead darkened. This far up the weather would be a lot more tumultuous compared to the valleys below. The darkening clouds and dense air meant foul weather was coming soon, but he had a feeling it wasn’t rain but lightning. And the jarring noise had a negative effect on dragons. Oddr had gathered a pile of crystals and the other men huddled around it to examine what he had found. Jor used his blade to scratch the side. He couldn’t pierce it, but he’d left a mark. Steinn moved to join them, but she spoke.
“Do you have any ideas what came through here?”
Instead of a reply, he offered her what he found in the rubble. He retrieved a bow. It had melted in a few places, but it was still useable. The arrows had frayed edges along the fletching from fire, but she wouldn’t let such a thing keep her from taking out her target.
“So you remembered,” was all she said. Their hands brushed as she took what he offered and he tried not to think about how soft her hands were. What they felt like when they’d last touched his.
If he were smart, he’d keep his distance.
“Goddess give me strength,” he prayed. He’d done far too much praying lately to Freya. Prayers for his family’s land. Prayers that he’d survive so that his brother wouldn’t have to fight.
He answered her question about the piece of metal. “I don’t know where it came from, but I have a feeling it’s a part of the threat we stand against.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Her beautiful face grew pensive. “How can men live in the heavens?”
“Gods live above.”
“So they are gods?”
“No gods would allow a piece of themselves to be shed by man. What came to our world is something else entirely. And if we can get through their armor we have a chance to kill them.”
“May I see it?” Steinn asked Oddr.
The man handed it to him. “It can be scratched, but my sword doesn’t pierce it.”
He glanced at Knurre and tossed the piece toward the beast. His dragon would bite it soon enough. Instead, with a clang, it hit Knurre in the head and bounced to the ground. They really needed to get in sync somehow.
The white dragon bit what it perceived was a pest, crushing it between its sharp teeth. Not long afterwards the dragon spit out a slimy, crushed mess onto the ground.
“I think it’s safe to say we have a chance,” Brimir remarked.
Oddr drew his snakelike dragon over with a sharp whistle. The creature obeyed without hesitation. With a sharp bark from the southern chieftain, bright flames exploded from his dragon’s mouth onto the spit-covered ball. The first blast did nothing, but with a concentrated effort over a few minutes the metal melted onto the ground and spread into a gooey mass.
Oddr nodded with approval as his poor dragon slumped over from exerting so much fire, but Steinn wasn’t as impressed. No dragon could sustain such an attack if that metal was between them and their enemy. They had to anticipate what they were facing and there were too many unknown factors.
“We will rest for a few hours and then head for Blakkr-Horgr,” Brimir announced. “They’ll be heading there next. Water your dragons for the path ahead.”
Steinn nodded, but the others grumbled. From here to Blakkr-Horgr wasn’t a journey most men made. Whatever travelled along those tracks wouldn’t be able to cross the volcanic mountains or Raudr River to make a straight shot for the largest city in the land: the Gates to the Frost. The offworlders would have to go north through the desert to the mountain pass where Blakkr-Horgr lay. From there they could go northeast to take down the capital.
He glanced at Drifa, who stared at the view along the steppes. He wanted to join her, but remained where he stood. Her fingers played with the quills at the edges of the arrows. The bow was perfect for her. He preferred the sword anyway for the close combat that Knurre preferred.
The small camp grew quiet as everyone settled in. The men huddled near their dragons. Up here the wind was fierce. What little sunlight remained beat down on the men’s shoulders through the thickening clouds. Drifa kept her white cloak on, even with the heat.
He couldn’t resist grinning. Only a woman from Muspellheim preferred to cover herself from the heat instead of baring her skin.
From his spot next to his dragon, Hrafn stole a glance at her. Most of the others looked at her, too. As much as he tried to ignore the possessive feelings, he didn’t like it.
The pitter-patter of rain hit the rocks below their outcropping. A breeze swept through and a still quiet made him feel uneasy. He drew in a deep breath and tasted the air. Nothing seemed amiss. His dragon hadn’t moved since he’d hit the unfortunate creature in the head. He caught the steady breaths Knurre made. A rhythm he recognized as wide-awake. Knurre was still uneasy.
He rested his head against his dragon’s chilled belly
and took in the horizon through slit eyes. Drifa hadn’t moved from her spot with her hand rested against the bow, almost like a sentinel guarding them.
For a while they stayed like that until a rumble trembled against his fingers on the rocks.
He almost thought he’d drifted off, but he hadn’t. Something else moved against his hand. Nothing in contact, but the rocks themselves shifted.
His grip on his sword tightened. It wasn’t raiders. They would’ve come from above.
The dragons lay still, but something had changed. The slowed heartbeat he’d heard earlier as he’d rested had picked up. The muscles along Knurre’s ribcage had flexed and the tips of his wings that it’d folded had spasmed.
The sky over them now was almost black as if night had fallen. Yet, he knew it wasn’t. Beyond the outcropping, miles ahead, the darkness bled into light. A storm was passing over them.
The rumbling grew, and he stood. He circled around Knurre, who opened its eyes and stepped out of the way. Only to have a slice of metal shoot up where it had sat.
Another blade exploded from the ground, slicing into Oddr’s dragon’s side. The dragon roared and bit into the metal, wrenching its attacker from the ground. The red lizard threw the troublesome foe over the edge and the noisemaker fell out of sight.
The outcropping erupted into chaos around Steinn. Every dragon scrambled to rise and every rider armed themselves from what came out of the ground. The stench of burnt metal drifted to his nose.
Where’s Drifa? He found her armed and shooting arrows at whatever came at her. Her arrows bounced off the shiny metal surrounding the strange, shiny creature. It had a spinning spiral on one end and a blade on the other. Rotating metal jumped about, propelling the metallic monstrosity toward them. He jumped between Drifa and anything that came after her.
One came at him fast, and with a roar, he viciously stabbed at it. His white dragon swept in to aid him, using its claws to hold their attacker down before the dragon bit down hard. By the time they dispatched what had attacked them the clearing had gone quiet again. The strange metal things littered the outcropping and smoke drifted from each one.
Oddr’s dragon limped about, but other than the cut leg, it moved just fine. When Steinn checked on Drifa, Knurre hadn’t followed him. No surprise there.
“What are these things?” Jor mumbled as he kicked one over.
“Nothing good.” Oddr replied.
“Something they left behind for anyone who came,” Steinn finally said. It had to be. In any battle if you had the opportunity to take out the rescuers you’d leave warriors behind in the shadows.
He picked up one of the hunks of metal that a dragon had bitten into. The outside had panels that were reflective and hot to the touch. The cut edges were sharp, but he managed to pry one open to reveal more metal parts inside.
“It moves without the intervention of man.” What alarmed him even more was the glowing object inside its the center. His jaw tightened just looking at it.
“What is it?” Drifa asked him.
“I don’t know what it is, but I do know what it uses.” He plucked out the glowing object and presented it to the others.
In his hand lay a crystal. The very same ones his people mined for warmth. It was the same size as the one around Drifa’s neck. It glowed bright for a moment then darkened into a black husk.
5
A few arrows had been lost, but none of them had been broken. Drifa picked up each one, all the while being careful to avoid the strange objects that littered the rocky landing. During the winter season when Steinn visited her clan, they had hunted for rabbits and desert moles. Those had been good days. Back then their parents had prepared them for marriage—perhaps hoping they’d have the love match most couple never could have. In the Outlands, it was about survival. The whims of finding romance and love when most families starved didn’t exist.
She sensed Steinn’s gaze burning on her backside. Tension filled her with each step. Before she’d left for the Women of the Frost, her clan’s land had bordered his to the north. Travelling back and forth had been a quick jaunt along a pass between their respective lands.
Now he bore the brunt of the attacks from the east from the other clans along the Frost River.
Once she finished gathering the arrows he paused. Should she go to him again? As much as she’d wanted to ride with him again, there was too much going on between them. She’d reached out to him for protection, he’d rejected her, and she had to accept that—even if the rejection hurt. They weren’t in a love match anymore. They were allies and had to treat each other as much. Anything more would complicate things between them.
You can ride with Hrafn for all I care. As much as she tried to forget about their encounter, his words burned her skin every time she thought about it. Briefly, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how he could be looking at her. The arrow-tip in her hand bit into her skin. She ignored the pain and the wet sensation from the blood that ran between her fingertips.
He was a distraction from her past. She let go of him the moment she got on that boat to join the Women of the Frost. Thinking about him brought only pain and there was no way she wanted a weight on her shoulders when she returned to the witches.
The north is a lonely place, her heart whispered to her.
The loneliness was a useless emotion. The Women of the Frost had power. They sustain this land and I’m a part of that legacy. She wiped the blood on her dress. She didn’t care who saw it. Let Steinn see it. She snorted. He probably didn’t care. Didn’t he say such? That strange dragon of his didn’t like her either. It probably would gnaw off her leg with the first opportunity it got.
And yet as she strode toward Hrafn, she fought the need to look over her shoulder. She played out several scenarios in her head where Steinn intercepted her and told her he wanted her to ride with him. That he didn’t want her to ride with another man. That he wanted them to be friends.
Once she reached Hrafn’s snoring dragon she raised her chin and offered Hrafn her best smile.
“How is your dragon?” she asked.
Hrafn glanced from her to Steinn and back to her gaze.
“He’s recovered,” he replied. “He’s ready to fight as needed.”
“I will need another ride.”
Hrafn’s black eyebrow rose. “I thought you were riding with Steinn? Doesn’t he have a double saddle?”
A muscle in her face twitched. The itch to purse her lips came, but she restrained herself. “I fell and he saved me. Even if he does have a place for me to sit, his dragon doesn’t take too kindly to me.”
“Oh, does it now.” Hrafn crossed his arms.
“What’s its name again?” She knew damn well what that troublesome creature was called.
“Knurre.”
“Aye, Knurre is uncontrollable and I shouldn’t be riding it.” She patted Magr and it belched. The fat dragon rolled onto its side as if waiting for her scratch an itchy spot it couldn’t reach anymore.
“Look at him, he’s a gentle kitten,” she said. “Who can eat a cow and a pig in one meal, but a harmless lamb nonetheless.”
Hrafn smiled as if he saw through her entire ruse. “You can ride with us, but you’ll have to hold your bow and such.”
She nodded. It wasn’t the first time she had to hold her weapons.
Hrafn placed one hand on her hip to hoist her up, only to have another wide hand clamp down on his. That other hand was Steinn’s. He reached out for her wrist to pull her away from his friend.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“That dragon can barely drag itself across a courtyard.” He damn near dragged her back to his dragon. When she managed to stop him, he hoisted her up over his shoulder, bow, quiver of arrows and all.
“Steinn, don’t make me hurt you.” With one rough yank on his ears and a stab into his eyes she could put in him in a world of pain.
“You’ve done that already,” he said coldly. “F
eel free to keep practicing.”
That statement was a rough slap across the mouth.
By the time they reached Knurre, the others had mounted their dragons. From her position she couldn’t see his dragon, but she heard the animal hiss loud enough to make its feelings known: I’ll bite off your feet with the first chance I get. Steinn placed her hard on the front saddle and Knurre tried to get out of the way.
“Don’t you dare move, Dragon!” Steinn bellowed. He grabbed the reins and gave a rough yank.
“I shouldn’t be riding him,” she snapped. “Why can’t you get that through your mule-headed skull?”
Steinn swiftly mounted behind her, squeezing himself into what little space was left on the front saddle. “Quiet, woman. Don’t make me regret catching you today.” With a jerk of his feet, Knurre took off into the sky after the others.
***
Arguing on a flying dragon seemed the most appropriate action at the moment. At least Steinn could see the others were flying far ahead of them.
“You don’t like me.” She tried to squirm away from him, but there was nowhere to go. “Why don’t you let me ride with Hrafn?”
His answer came swift. “Do you want to know the truth?”
“I’d love to hear it.”
He stiffened before he drew in a deep breath and belted out, “As much as I hate what you did to me, I keep coming back. I keep hearing your voice. I keep smelling your skin. I keep remembering the way you made me feel before you threw my love away.”
She grimaced as if his words had sunk in.
“No woman has rejected me like you have, Dri.” He held the reins in both hands—which were wrapped around her waist.
“A part of me wants you to want me again.” Right at that moment he wished he could be the one to walk away, but they were in the air, out in the middle of nowhere on their way to battle. There wasn’t a place for him to lick his wounds.
She finally spoke again. “I’m sorry, Steinn.”
Those were words she should’ve said to him long ago and right now they didn’t make him feel any better.
