by Kate Pearce
She quickly drew her gaze away. The dragon wasn’t meant for her. Not anymore.
“That’s…great.”
He paused, taking in her face. “What’s wrong? I was on my way to your village and saw you walking away.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m leaving,” was all she managed to say. Tears lingered at the edge of her eyes, but she held them in.
“Why?” His happiness melted away.
“I have been Called to the north.”
A mixture of emotions crossed his features. “And?”
“I have to go.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he said crisply. “You and I were meant together, Dri. I believe we were meant to be linked and nothing you can do to change that—”
“There isn’t anything to talk about, Steinn. I’ve been Called and any obligations I have with your clan are no longer important.” She expected the Goddess to strike her dead for such a hurtful statement. Every time they’d been together Steinn had called her a blessing and now she tossed aside his love aside.
What she wanted meant nothing now. The faces of every villager she saw every day passed before her eyes. The man who was too elderly to leave his home. The children whose father had died in the mines and they didn’t produce enough crystals to barter for the most basic of needs. All of them depended on her to do the right thing. No matter how much it hurt.
“You’re not leaving and that is final.” He took her arm as if to drag her back to her village.
“I’m not your wife!” She twisted out of his grip and continued to speak before she lost resolve. “Nor will I ever be. Forget about me, Steinn. I’ve already forgotten about you.”
With that he froze with clenched fists. His jaw tightened to the point she expected to hear his teeth grind together, but he didn’t budge in her direction. Hurting him was the worst thing she could do, but he’d stop at nothing to keep her from leaving if she told him she didn’t want to go. He was a stubborn Viking, after all.
This is for the best, she told herself as she began her march toward the Frost River again. Telling herself that over and over again was all she could do to keep herself from crying.
9
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steinn asked her.
Drifa sighed. Telling him would’ve been the easy part. But would that have changed anything? Would that have fulfilled the needs of Women of the Frost? Her heart told her no.
“At the time it was best to let you go. To let go of what we had together so you could move on.” Her throat thickened. “So I could move on.”
She put on her shift to cover her nakedness. “When I saw you at Brimir’s hall at the warrior’s table, a part of me wanted you to already have a wife. To have several babes back at home.”
“What about the other part?”
She clenched her shift as if to brace herself. Might as well tell the truth. “I wished I was that woman.”
“Will your people suffer again if you don’t return?”
She nodded. “I expect as much—even though there is a new high priestess. The women grow older and with each year more die. There are less of us to hold back the desert.”
“What if you struck back though? What if you bargained with them?”
She held back a laugh. Bargaining with a demon that had the advantage wasn’t wise. On a whim the Women of the Frost could render the northern Outlands barren. Such power was a frightening thing. Living in peace with Steinn wasn’t possible. Sooner or later the sisterhood would expect her to return and if they learned she hadn’t died in combat, who knows what would happen to her clan.
“I’ve gone through so many scenarios, love.” Calling him that brought pain to her heart, but it also felt good to say it. It felt good to have been able to touch him and have the memories of being with him. Technically to the sisters she was still a virgin. Her magic wouldn’t be as strong after he touched her so intimately, but they hadn’t made love as a man and woman yet.
She could leave him behind again. The pain sucked in at her and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out or stop the tears from falling. The hardened woman from the north faded away and all that was left was the girl who’d abandoned the love of her life behind on a hill. Steinn left the stool and was at her side to pull her into his arms.
“I don’t want to let you go again,” she blurted. He held her for a bit and she relished the warmth. Savored it. But once the stabbing pain from loss subsided, she stood and spoke what needed to be said, “I need some time alone, please.”
He’d lingered so long she expected him to reach for her again. Instead he rose and left the room.
***
As much as Steinn wanted to snatch Drifa off Hrafn’s fat dragon, he kept himself in check. It was best for her to ride with Hrafn instead of on Knurre. Ever since they’d rode into the battle at Blakkr-Horgr, the white dragon had become far too wieldy and unpredictable. Taking off had been a chore, especially with a bucking animal that refused to join the formation until it saw fit. Their brief stop for Knurre to take a shit was the worst. Most dragons took care of their business in mid-air.
Once he caught up, Brimir had a few entertaining remarks. He was a foul-mouthed jokester.
“Did your mount need servicing?” the man asked with a glint to his dark brown eyes.
“He was more than happy to oblige the beast!” Jor, who now rode behind Oddr, added to his misery.
“Who’s the one who did the servicing?” Brimir asked with a grin.
Steinn snorted. “My dragon was far too spent. Especially after you laid with him earlier this morning.”
That shut up Brimir’s crusty mouth.
Drifa didn’t say much, riding in silence with her arms loosely wrapped around Hrafn. Just seeing her so close to another man bothered him to no end. And it didn’t matter that Hrafn was his friend or that he was married or that he wasn’t interested in her in any way.
Every fiber of his being wanted to pluck her off that dragon and place her on his. Underneath him, Knurre reflected his unease. The dragon barely kept enough elevation to miss any taller rock formations they flew over.
The flight northeast to the capital was supposed to be a smooth one.
Before they’d left, Brimir had pulled him to the side and presented a map to him. He recognized all the marks on the old sheep’s skin.
“Do you not see what I see?” The older warrior drew a path with his fingers from the invader’s landing point from the east toward Blakkr-Horgr. The northwesterly path lead out of the Red Steppes Desert toward the ice.
“What of it? They are heading for the capital.”
“Think about it, Steinn. You got a level head on your shoulders. You pointed out that they’ve been using our crystals for their weapons. Witnesses said they flew through the sky far above then shot down like a dead weight once they passed through the haze we see at twilight during the winters.”
“Heaven’s Claw.” The haze that cut into the heavens and caused it to bleed red and white lights across the sky.
“Something about our sky is toxic to their tools.”
He nodded as it all came together. “The first travelers.”
“Aye, the ones who’d landed before crashed and died in the lore. Right after the Heaven’s Claw took them out.”
“And now after all these generations they’ve returned.”
“But they’re smarter now. They don’t make the same mistakes.” Brimir clutched the map tighter. “They haven’t come here to conquer. Yet.”
“Get to the point.”
“All armies need resources to function. Theirs use crystals. Where is the largest deposit of crystal?”
“Underground in the Outlands.”
Brimir cocked a knowing grin. “Where is the largest supply of mined crystal? One that would be visible if you were flying around from the air?”
His breath caught. Only one group received vast amounts of crystal. They didn’t bother to protect it. Why would th
ey when no one would dare steal it? “The Women of the Frost.”
“Those invaders are coming for them. The flattest path for their strange mount is from Blakkr-Horgr, through the capital at the Gates to the Frost, and finally they’ll reach Niflheim.”
“The women will fight them.”
“And they’ll lose with their pitiful numbers. Once they lose all that the witches do for us will end in death and endless dust.”
Their conversation should’ve cleared things in his head, but it had left him uneasy. Outside of the Outlands was another world. Even more land extended beyond Muspellheim to the south and even more past Niflheim. The world was a dangerous place and he had only so many resources to protect what was his.
And now he’d have to stand with a select few as the only defensive measure. It was a lot to take in. He’d visited the Gates to the Frost once as a boy and once when his father passed and the leadership of his clan passed to him. The capital was meant to be a gathering place for the clans. A hub between the desert to the south and the realm of Niflheim. And now he’d be returning there. Essentially returning Drifa to the place she didn’t want to go.
After half a day’s flight they reached the edge of the Gates to the Frost. To the far north the ice-capped mountains of Niflheim stretched toward the sky. The white snow extended southward until the patchy bits of red and white blended together. The Frost River, flowing southward, bordered the city to the west, while smaller mountains hugged the city from the east. Those who lived here depended heavily on trade with the south for crystals as a heat source.
As they approached the city’s edge, only a contingent of four red dragons and their riders appeared as a security force. The guards followed them into the city until they landed in the dragon keep. The city’s leaders promptly arrived to meet them. Little preparations had been made for the oncoming attack.
Naturally, Brimir had complaints when he spotted the other tethered dragons.
“Don’t you people know how to tend and care for hatchlings anymore? In Forsvollr, our dragons are humping faster than most of the newlyweds.” His voice rose even to the point of embarrassment. “You boys got nothing more than a bunch of freshly hatched lizards here who’d serve better to nibble on my toes.”
The city’s Dragonmaster took offense with a sour expression. “These are fine animals.”
“Who told you that?” Brimir laughed. “‘Cause my elderly amma can use her wrinkly bare hands to wrestle one of them hatchlings down.”
The two continued to argue so Steinn left their side to examine the city’s defenses. The capital had an extended wall along the south to the river’s edge. Over time it had been fortified since he’d visited, but the stone wall was meant to keep out dragons with all of its arrow towers. The gaping gate in the front was more than large enough for whatever travelled across the desert and created those tracks.
His gaze flicked to Drifa. One of the women from the city offered her water. Her back faced away from him, her own gaze centered on the mountains in the distance.
Did she want to return to the Women of the Frost already?
The mens’ conversation grew heated. “Every able-bodied man has been armed,” the chieftain snapped. “We are short on weapons, but with your support we can hold them back. You are underestimating our strength. Not a single raider has breached these walls.”
Jor’s gray eyes formed slits and his right eyebrow rose—the place where an eyebrow would’ve existed anyway. “Skarfanes is gone. Blakkr-Horgr is barely standing. Have you gone daft?”
Steinn stepped between them. “Freya, give me patience! They are coming for you,” he said firmly. “They are after the witches’ crystal deposits and this is the final city that stands between them and what they seek. You can either stay here like a bunch of old hens pecking at every little detail or we can help you fortify your defenses.”
“We have sent out a call to every able-bodied man in the Outlands,” the chieftain said with a stern expression. “We have taken every step to ensure that whatever arrives at our doorstep will be met with a death blow.”
Based on what Steinn had seen, it wouldn’t be enough. The other cities didn’t have the walls this city had, but it had more men and dragons to defend it. And they had succumbed.
The squabbling ended soon enough with agreements made. Oddr would supervise the wall defense while Jor would corral whatever dragons they had into action. Meanwhile, Brimir and Steinn prepared the small number of men and boys they had for combat.
Night fell and rumblings under the earth came with it. He found a quiet spot on the wall that faced the direction the invaders would come from. No one bothered him, which he appreciated. He couldn’t help but think about Drifa and what was to come. He’d used an errand boy to send her a message: Return to Niflheim while you still can.
She hadn’t answered his message or even told her how she felt about the situation. She belonged up north, safe among the Women of the Frost, and not down here with all the fighting. As much as he wanted her by his side, he wanted her safe, too.
“Can you see anything?” Oddr sat down next to him. He jammed a stake with a torch into the wall.
“Only mountains and cold on one end and the desert on the other,” Steinn replied.
Oddr grunted in response.
For a few minutes neither of them spoke until Oddr broke the silence. “I hope they take their time getting here. I’m none too eager to return home. I got a woman waiting for me.”
Steinn would give anything to be done with this mission and return home with Drifa at his side.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“There’re dusty cellars that look far more inviting than what that woman got between her legs.”
“How do you know?” He tried to hold back a laugh and failed.
“She was more than willing to see if my skin was the same color all over.” Oddr cocked a grin.
He chuckled. The wench had to be from the north where men who had Oddr’s coloring weren’t as common. As far as Steinn was concerned, he’d fight side by side with little green men if they took up arms and fought bravely.
“Care to hedge any bets on our survival?” Oddr was chatty tonight.
“Freya will come to our aid—as she has done in the past.” If Freya didn’t help them, he’d help himself. For Drifa’s sake as well as the people of the Outlands.
Sitting for so long had stirred hunger in his belly. From his pack he pulled out dried meat. Oddr took a portion he offered.
“I didn’t ask how Freya would do with invaders from the heavens crashing down,” Oddr said between bites. “I asked about us. How you and I and the others will fair against them.”
“Honestly, I don’t know. What I do know—what I believe is that Freya descended from the heavens on a pregnant dragon to Muspellheim and from there she sprinkled seedlings of what became us. From the dragon came the twins, the red and the white.”
Oddr harrumphed with exasperation as if he already grew tired of Steinn’s words. He wasn’t the first man Steinn had encountered who didn’t believe in the Gods. “I never believed in any supreme being. Your story is nothing more to me than a tale for children. What I do believe in is the strength in my hands.” He gestured to the south. “Something has come for us. Something far more powerful than a damn woman riding a dragon. Now do you believe we can take those bastards down?”
The small smile on his face grew wider. Freya had to be smiling in the heavens, too. “I’ve never believed in anything more in my life.”
***
The piercing noise from horns along the wall came first.
One moment Drifa was playing with the hatchlings in the dragon keep, and in the next, chaos erupted everywhere. Bells rang from structures close to the wall and the noise grew louder as more bells joined the chorus.
It was time to fight.
Beyond the homes and the wall, she couldn’t make out anything in the murky darkness to the south. The opaque wall came c
loser and closer. Almost as if a cloud ate away at the night.
Which meant only one thing: a sandstorm was coming.
“Only at a time like this…” she mumbled.
All around her the dragon handlers jumped to action preparing the dragons for battle. The other warriors and their mounts had left the dragon pen long ago to circle the skies and defend the wall—she’d have to find her own transport.
As the men took to the skies on dragons barely old enough to hold the weight of one man, she sucked in a curse. The wind around them picked up and the tattered flag for the keep began to flap madly.
The storm had reached them.
With little visibility left, all she could make out was bright flares that shot from the sky to the ground. The red dragons had begun their assault.
And damn it all, the boys had left her behind to have all the fun.
Her first inclination was to approach the poor Dragonmaster to see if he had anything, but he ran about shouting useless orders.
“Gather the hatchlings and go to the river,” he barked. “Evacuate as many as you can in case the wall doesn’t hold.”
She searched the keep for any mounts to take—if she had to steal one so be it.
By the time she spotted one, with an unfortunate warrior about to get on, she didn’t make it halfway across the wide expanse of the courtyard before an explosion slammed everyone into the ground.
The side of her head hit the stiff dirt hard, knocking her teeth together. Clutching her head, she wondered if her vision was failing her and it was dust in her eyes and not flames raining down from the sky. Ribbons of yellow and orange rocketed to the ground and crashed into homes.
“No…” she whispered.
Screams filled the air as smoke blended with the biting sand that nipped at her exposed skin.
More voices ordered others to run to the river to find safety on the boats going downstream.
She couldn’t sit here. She had to help in some way. A few steps south lead her toward a burning house. The heat radiated against her out stretched hand and drew her in with persistent tugs.
