Viking's Conquest

by Sky Purington

  “Any minute now.” Sage winked before she looked Rokar’s way. “Take good care of Tess, okay?”

  He nodded, fully intending to.

  As if in direct response to his thoughts, warmth poured over his back like sunlight touched it. Thankfully when he glanced over his shoulder discreetly while everyone said goodbye, he spied no smoke.

  “The sun is nearly set,” Leviathan said after the others left. “We should seek shelter somewhere less open for the eve.”

  “Agreed,” Soren said. He and Leviathan took it upon themselves to start walking.

  “Not that way.” Rokar’s eyes never left Tess as her steady gaze remained focused on the ash. “It’s best we get closer to the tree before nightfall.”

  “But not too close,” he and Tess said at the same time before their eyes met in surprise.

  “Why, though?” she murmured.

  Even though he shook his head, his dragon had a theory. “Because we are not ready for it yet.”

  “No, I don’t suppose we are,” she whispered. Her eyes lingered on him as she spoke within his mind. “But I’d say we’re one step closer based on the warmth you just felt on your back.”

  “It wasn’t bad,” he assured, not overly shocked she knew. “Not like before.”

  “I know,” she replied. They led the way in the direction they felt best and kept their conversation private. “Can I look at it?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You might not like what you see.”

  “Anything’s better than what was there before.” She shrugged. “Outside of the First Blade. That’s kinda epic.”

  He stopped and spoke aloud. “Are you sure, then?”

  “I am.” She nodded then looked at the others and filled them in. “Here’s hoping we’re not broken anymore, eh?”

  Shea pouted. “You aren’t broken, sweetie.” She gestured at Rokar’s back. “Skáld’s stupid mark is.”

  “But not anymore,” Davyn said when Rokar pulled up his jerkin and showed them his back.

  “What the hell?” Shea whispered.

  Everyone homed in on the startling change.

  “Tell me,” Rokar murmured.

  “It’s whole again,” Tess said softly, peering at it. “The dragon’s whole and completely full of color.”

  He frowned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “Then we are close to removing it?”

  “Maybe.” She stared at it as though lost. “But then it hasn't been behaving like the others, has it?”

  “No,” he began then stopped, sensing an unfamiliar disturbance in her. “What is it, Tess?”

  “Don’t you know?” she whispered before her cool fingers touched the tattoo, and everything shifted around him.

  He was within a memory...reliving a moment in time.

  Bjárr roared with laughter when Rokar and Helga attempted to dance on the swaying boat. It was a bit of a trick. The vessel might be on the larger side, but still.

  “Better that you sit and enjoy some mead, Father,” Bjárr said. “Rather than stomp on Mother’s feet even more.”

  “Oh, he tries,” Helga admonished, grinning lovingly at Rokar. “In all truth, Son, boats are not a place to dance.” She cast Bjárr an affectionate smile. “Even to please one's son.”

  Bjárr grinned and shrugged, his hair glistening in the sunlight. His smile was as wide as the ocean when Helga sat beside him and Rokar across from them.

  “Here you go.” Bjárr handed over two mugs of mead. “For you to celebrate, yes?”

  “Yes,” they agreed, grinning at each other before smiling at their son because what else was there to do when they looked at Bjárr? Never had a happier, more selfless child been born.

  “Do you think we can go out further still?” Bjárr asked. “So that we might catch the best fish for your celebration this eve?”

  Rokar eyed the sky in front of him. All remained clear, and his dragon sensed nothing. Seagulls still cried overhead, and the sun shone brightly.

  “I don’t see why not,” he responded.

  “Even with that?” Bjárr pointed north, suddenly excited. He jumped up and down, flapping his arms as though he could fly. “Does it not look perfect for flying within?” He roared and growled like a dragon and kept pointing at the sky behind Rokar. “Can your mighty dragon not conquer it, Father?”

  Everything went still inside Rokar when he turned and saw something on the horizon that made his dragon blood run frigid. He had never seen a storm quite like that. As his eyes met Helga's with concern, his dragon senses finally kicked in.

  It was already too late.

  They were going to be caught in the storm.

  A storm he clearly recognized now as the one plaguing him and Tess.

  “Sit,” he ordered Bjárr. “Now!”

  Bjárr’s expression sank as he sat on the bench, and Helga wrapped her arms around him. Meanwhile, Rokar took to oar, rowed hard and tried to reach out to his kin telepathically. “Mother? Father? Grandmother? Grandfather? Cousins!”

  Yet no one answered as the wind picked up and lightning splintered across the sky.

  “I must shift to get us out of here,” he warned Helga, giving her no chance to respond before he tried to shift but couldn’t. When her wide eyes met his in confusion, he shook his head and rowed harder.

  What was happening? Why couldn’t he shift? How would he keep his family safe?

  “Rokar? Can you hear me?”

  At first, he thought Helga spoke to him, but when his vision cleared, he realized it was Tess.

  “Are you with me now?” She gripped his forearms. “Please tell me you’re with me.”

  He blinked and tried to look back to where Bjárr sat, desperate to see him one last time but his son had faded along with the memory.

  “I’m with you.” His eyes returned to hers. “What happened? Why did I remember...”

  When he was unable to say anything more about that terrible day, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just take a moment.”

  She had witnessed his memory, hadn't she? She saw everything. He nearly pushed her away but realized that was the last thing he wanted to do. So he tentatively put his arms around her and welcomed the comfort she offered. Comfort he’d never allowed himself as he braced for deep grief.

  Yet, when it came, it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been in the past. Perhaps because he had already grieved for years or because of the peace Tess leant him. Almost as if she steadied him where before he was adrift in agonizing misery.

  “What color is my mark,” he murmured, truly curious.

  “I thought you knew,” she replied softly, pulling back to meet his eyes. “It’s all the colors of your eyes, Rokar...the colors of the storm that haunts us...”

  Chapter Fifteen

  TESS BIT BACK emotion as Rokar shook his head, frowned and stepped away. “So my mark is full of the storm’s colors?”

  She nodded, so sad for him it was hard to think straight. Like it had been when she dreamt of his family drowning, she’d been right there on the boat with him in a memory that felt remarkably real. She had experienced the overwhelming love and concern he felt for Bjárr and Helga. The stark fear that he would not be able to protect them because he couldn’t shift.

  “Yes, the mark is the colors of the storm,” she confirmed. Though she probably shouldn’t mention it right now, she needed to understand. “How come you couldn’t shift that day, Rokar? What stopped your dragon?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. My kin and I never figured it out.”

  “Did it happen before that?” Discomfort nagged at her. “Since then?”

  “No, just the once,” he murmured. “When I needed it most.”

  “Did you grow angry at it?” She recalled her own rage at her dragon at one point. Her confusion and angst when she desperately needed to shift but couldn’t.

  �
��No, but then I didn’t blame it on my dragon when perhaps I should have.” His eyes narrowed in understanding, and he figured her out too damn fast. “Did you blame your dragon?”

  She blinked, careful to school her expression and protect her thoughts because she knew he hadn’t caught everything. It got more and more difficult to keep him at bay, though. It was as if his dragon felt it belonged in her mind. More than that, it would only allow her to keep it away for so much longer. Not surprising considering how strongly her dragon responded to his not to mention how intensely she responded to Rokar himself.

  While she suspected she’d like kissing him, she had no clue how amazing it would actually be. How much she would lose herself in the moment. She had liked his roughness more than she should have. But then there had been a time she enjoyed that. Hell, she was a dragon. It was only natural...until a monster made it unnatural.

  “We should keep moving.” She never gave Rokar an answer about her dragon not shifting when she needed it to. Instead, she glanced at Leviathan and thought about the red filling Rokar's larger tat. “And we need to figure out why the First Blade is slowly filling with color like Skáld’s mark usually does.”

  Though Rokar remained silent, his brows arched in surprise at the revelation as they started up the mountain leading to Níðhöggr’s Ash.

  Leviathan shook his head. “I wish I had an explanation, but I don’t. All I know is that when the First Blade appeared on Rokar's back, contact was made with Sigdir ancestors still on Múspellsheimr. A confirmation that they would come to your aid if you should need them.” His eyes went from Tess to Rokar. “My guess is that, much like Skáld’s mark coloring, the tattoo filling with color is a good thing. It means you are heading in the right direction.”

  “By dredging up our pasts,” Tess muttered.

  “And healing,” Shea added. “Not to mention getting to the root of things by the sounds of it.” She shot Tess a curious look. “Especially if you were both unable to shift at one point.” Her eyes remained inquisitive, and she tried to wrangle more details. “During a traumatic time if we go off of Rokar’s experience.”

  Tess sighed and shook her head. “You’re not getting anything out of me, Sis, so stop fishing.”

  Though Shea kept casting her curious looks, she dropped it as they continued on. The woodland had darkened quickly and cast strange shadows. Almost as if people darted in and out of the trees. Danced with them. Became one then separated into three.

  “Is it me or,” she began only for Rokar to suddenly yank her behind a wide tree, put a finger to his lips and shake his head.

  “There are Årud out there,” he said into her mind. “Stealthy ones by the looks of it.”

  She had heard of the rogue Årud tribes Skáld controlled. It was the sole reason Magnus had gone to Skáld’s Domain. To try to save those under the control of the double-headed serpent. Yet they still popped up randomly as the enemy slid into their minds at will.

  So maybe this Realm wasn't as safe as she thought.

  “Can you fight?” Rokar asked her.

  “Hell, yeah.” She nodded. “Though I was never as good as Shea, I can hold my own.”

  “I count around twenty, perhaps twenty-five.” He handed over a few daggers, his expression grim. “So we should be able to down them quickly.”

  “Why look so upset then?” She cocked her head. “Or are you not a fan of fighting?”

  “I am Viking,” he grunted, as though that explained his growing frown.

  “Okay,” she said slowly, about to tease him when his thoughts brushed her mind. When she realized he wasn’t quite as eager to battle because he worried about her. She got that. He was frustrated with himself for caring just like she had been upset with herself for responding to his kiss so strongly.

  Something she decided now was as good a time as any to tell him about. The best time actually. “I only pretended to be another personality because I didn’t want to deal with what happened back there.”

  He frowned, not following her at first until his brow shot up. “Are you referring to faking your personality after I kissed you?”

  “Yeah.” She met his frown. “Why look so surprised? You’re the one who said we needed to start opening up.”

  “Yes,” he agreed as an axe slammed into the other side of their tree. “Perhaps when we are not under attack?”

  What difference does it make?” She shrugged as they peeked out and assessed the forest. The Årud’s were still blending in and hard to see. “Better now than never.”

  “I think you’re trying to ensure that I focus less on what you’re saying and more on battling.” He narrowed his eyes around the tree before he whipped a blade, and a man grunted in pain.

  He had her there. Better his focus not be solely on her. “Well, at least I’m sharing.”

  His eyes met hers. “Why didn't you want to deal with what happened between us on the shore?”

  “More like I didn’t want to acknowledge it.” She glanced around the tree, saw someone getting ready to throw a dagger at Shea, so whipped her own blade and took him down. “Like you, I didn’t want to care.”

  His words drifted so softly through her mind, she almost didn’t catch them. “Because caring is too risky.”

  “Way too risky.” She scanned the forest as more men fell thanks to Tess and Rokar’s comrades.

  “I count eight left standing,” Soren said into their minds, startling her with overwhelming sadness. What was that? When Rokar looked at her in question, she shook her head. “Did you feel that too?”

  He nodded before he whipped a blade and another man fell followed by two more when Leviathan and Davyn’s blades hit them. That left five. Two of which Shea downed by nicking two jugulars with one expert throw.

  “What did Soren’s voice make you feel exactly?” Tess asked Rokar. “Because it felt like I was talking to a close friend for the last time. Like I’d never see him again.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I felt too.”

  They frowned and glanced in Soren’s direction, warning him telepathically to be especially careful.

  “I don’t think the sensation came from here and now though.” She shook her head as Leviathan and Soren took down two more Årud’s. “It was almost like...dé·jà vu.”

  Moments later, she had an equally offsetting experience when she sensed before she saw an Årud ready to whip a blade she knew would down Soren. Going on pure instinct, knowing that he needed to be defended before all others, she raced out and grabbed the axe mid-air by the handle as Rokar, seemingly on auto-pilot as well, took out the last enemy.

  “Damn.” Shea nodded with approval as everyone melted out of the forest. “That was impressive, Sis.”

  Tess frowned and looked at the axe, barely conscious of doing it. She might know how to fight but had no clue how to wield an axe never mind catch one mid-whip.

  “That was weird.” Her eyes went to Soren, who seemed as caught up in the moment as her. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, frowning. His eyes flickered between her and Rokar. “What was that between the three of us?”

  Rokar shook his head, clearly as troubled as her and Soren. “It was a strong sensation...”

  When he trailed off, she knew exactly how he would have described it. “Almost like the feeling you had that awful day. Of being torn from your kin.”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Almost.”

  “I sense the First Blade at work in this.” Leviathan’s eyes narrowed as he looked between the three of them. “You are all connected to it.”

  “Soren too?” Shea said.

  Leviathan nodded. “Very much so.”

  “Just like Magnus,” Tess murmured. “Because he is too somehow.”

  When they looked at her in surprise, she nodded. “Or should I say his bloodline is...connected with me somehow...and I’m connected with the First Blade.”

  “So are we to assume the fire demons helped in the transition?” Davyn said
as they started pulling their weapons off the dead.

  “I think so,” Tess said. “Because I feel as kindred a spirit with Magnus as I do with Soren.” She looked at Rokar. “What about you?”

  He shook his head. “I feel no connection to Magnus.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured. “Add that to the growing list of mysteries, I guess.” She cleaned her blades and tucked them away. “I think if we figure out the storm, everything will fall into place.”

  “Right, so what’s up with this storm, anyway?” Shea looked to Rokar’s eyes. “It must be something.”

  “It’s intense. The colors are unreal.” Tess’s gaze flickered to Rokar. “Gorgeous if you set aside all the drama and fear associated with it.” She looked at Shea as Rokar led them into a nearby cave. “I can show it to you through my mind’s eye. Maybe you can make something of it.”

  “Sure,” Shea said as Davyn and Soren set out to hunt.

  “I’m going to show her the one that hit me on my bike,” she assured Rokar as he saw to a fire.

  So she did, allowing her sister to see everything.

  The vivid colors.

  The lightning.

  The crash of thunder and peel of her cell phone ringing.

  Suddenly, Axle stood in front of her in another time and place. A memory she had drowned herself in bourbon to forget. Lightning flashed, and thunder crashed again as she relived her worst nightmare.

  “No,” she whispered, taking a step back.

  She shook her head when an all-too-familiar heartbeat filled her eardrums. One she never thought she would hear again. Shaking, she looked down at her swollen stomach.

  Then her eyes rose to his.

  To the hateful gleam.

  This time, she had pushed him too far.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ROKAR CAUGHT TESS as she stumbled back when the cell phone ringing in her memory ripped her back to the present.

  “Oh my God,” Shea whispered, her eyes wide and wet. Her gaze remained locked on Tess. “You were pregnant...”

  “Were,” Tess ground out, shaking as Rokar made sure she sat on a rock, grateful when Leviathan handed her a skin. “But no more.” She shook her head and took several long swigs of mead before narrowing her eyes at Shea. “End of story, okay?”