by Denali Day
Hollen climbed up the serpent’s body in two long strides, practically jumping into the saddle behind her. She stiffened as his front pressed into her back. There was nowhere to wiggle away. He spent a few moments adjusting the straps, and Joselyn kept her attention fixed in front of her.
Easy, Joselyn. Don’t Panic.
Finally, Hollen threaded his arms on either side of her waist, his hands covered in thick leather gloves. He bent forward, which pushed Joselyn’s belly flat against the beast’s back. His chest pinned her to the saddle. She was about to buck in protest when Hollen’s hands stretched above her to reach two black ridges at the base of his mount’s long neck.
“You’ll be glad of my nearness in a moment,” Hollen murmured into her ear. The sensation tickled, and she pressed her ear into her shoulder.
It suddenly hit her that she was really about to go flying. She’d done so yesterday, but that was different. She’d been so terrified. Was she any less so now? Maybe. If only a bit.
She glanced behind them and saw that Hollen had secured his legs from foot to knee inside the narrow cage-like stirrups. He began to massage the underside of the wyvern’s scales in a similar fashion as he had below its jaw. The beast’s body tensed as it stood from its belly. Half its weight was supported on the spines of its massive folded wings. It made that alien clicking noise again. The vibrations reverberated down the creature’s neck and up Joselyn’s body. She shivered.
They started moving; the beast crawling its way toward the bright light at the mouth of the cave, some hundred feet away. Hollen and Joselyn swayed with the rise and fall of its giant shoulders until they reached the precipice.
Joselyn risked a glance over the beast’s side, then instantly wished she hadn’t. They were hundreds of feet into the air, far out of reach for any natural creature on land. The sun was lagging on the horizon, perhaps an hour from twilight. It illuminated the jagged peaks below them. Bile rolled about in her stomach.
“How far is your home?” she asked, praying to the gods it wasn’t far.
Her captor leaned even closer to whisper in her ear. “When you have wings, everything is nearby.”
Hollen pressed forward on the creature’s ridged scales. Suddenly they were plunging toward the earth. Joselyn might have screamed, but the wind whistling violently past her ears deafened her to everything else. Hollen pressed so hard into her back that she lay completely fixed against the monster’s saddle. The wyvern opened its massive wings, and Joselyn’s breath caught in her lungs. A current of air caught them, whipping them backward, and their rapid descent halted. Joselyn strained to suck in a breath. They were gliding together, away from the stony gray cliff.
Now they were in full flight, Hollen lifted his body a bit. She could breathe again. He’d been right; she was grateful for his proximity. If he could hear, she might have begged him to cover her even more tightly. Instead she clutched the leather edge of the saddle.
She’d never imagined she’d be flying. That anyone could. In the past she’d compared galloping on Morningstar’s back to flying. How wrong she’d been. There was nothing like this. Incredible.
Hollen continued his strange massage on the creature, pressing firmly with his right hand as the creature banked toward the mountain. Realization dawned. He was directing the wyvern with his touch. How could such wicked creatures be tamed in the first place? Perhaps they were bred in such a manner. She would ask later.
As they flew, Joselyn allowed herself to relax. Hollen’s great chest expanded into her back as he breathed, and she felt the line of his thighs fitted against hers. Her neck tingled. At least she wasn’t in danger of plunging to her death.
Eventually, they began circling a slow descent. Hollen lifted a bit from her back and let go of one scaled ridge to point toward the earth. She gasped, startled to no longer be encircled in the safety of his arms. After a moment’s reassurance that she would not be torn into the air by a gust of wind, Joselyn peered over the mount’s wings in the direction of Hollen’s fingers.
Far below them, a valley opened up at the juncture of two towering spires of rocky mountain. It was covered in snow, but Joselyn thought she could see the dots of several people against the stark white background. The ravine seemed to disappear into the darkness of the mountain behind it, and as they came closer, Joselyn saw that a settlement resided in the mountain itself. Fires shone under the sloping canopy of a curved cliff face, which provided natural shelter.
More interesting than what lay behind the village was what lay before it. Miles and miles of open snow descended into a sea of jagged gray stone. Beyond that, the beginnings of a thick fir pine forest, which eventually leveled off into what her captor had called ‘the lowlands.’
Her heart sank in her chest. Escape from this place would be no easy feat, and far less so if she were pursued by those who could seek her out from the sky. Her only chance was to safely reach the dense forest below before she was found missing. How in the skies was she going to do that?
A gust of wind spun around them from the right. Joselyn jumped, and Hollen clamped his arm back down around her, tucking her into himself. A wyvern, smaller than Hollen’s, blew past them. Joselyn almost lost sight of it as it ducked low beneath them. Its solid white coloring was difficult to track against the snowy earth. She distinguished it only by a large clump of dark furs that clung to its back. Another rider.
Joselyn watched the graceful beauty of the white creature’s flight. Unlike Jagomri, it dove toward the ground, racing with no one in particular as far as Joselyn could tell. She wondered why anyone in their right mind would choose to fly so fast. Maybe the rider had lost control? In seconds, the white beast opened its great wings and caught the current, then glided the last hundred feet to the ground.
Hollen continued a steady pace, and Joselyn scanned the ground for any further details she might gather from her high vantage point. Just before Jagomri touched down, Joselyn caught sight of the white wyvern’s rider dismounting and marching in their direction.
Jagomri’s talons disappeared into a powdery blanket of snow. Hollen released him and reached backward to loosen the straps which secured his legs. Joselyn didn’t straighten when he lifted himself off her; she focused on the blond man plodding through the snow. His gaze on Hollen, he pounded his right fist upon his leather cuirass, over his heart. His smile was barely visible in the distance. He halted. Was he looking at her?
“Forgive me, brother,” Hollen called out in trade tongue. “I would return the greeting, but I find myself freshly blooded.”
“Brother,” the newcomer answered, also in lightly accented trade tongue. “Shall I approach?”
Hollen waved him over and the man resumed his march. Hollen tapped her on the back, and she walked her hands down to her hips, pushing herself into a seated position before him. Her rear slid into his hips and Joselyn jumped when she heard him groan. She glanced up, but he avoided her gaze. Hollen swung out of the saddle and jumped to the ground, kicking up snow as he landed.
Eager to be away from the winged serpent, Joselyn slid into Hollen’s waiting arms. She stepped away from him and yanked up her hood. If only Hollen had allowed her to make her hair presentable before bringing her. She didn’t want to look like a feral animal in front of these savages. Clad in foreign clothing and disheveled after the hair-raising flight, Joselyn did her best to appear confident in her unfamiliar surroundings. In her experience, fear had a way of painting a target on one’s back. It would not do to appear weak. She pressed her shoulders back and proudly inclined her chin.
The man whom Hollen had called ‘brother’ stopped a few feet away. Joselyn was forced to tilt her head back to meet his pale blue eyes. The light-haired man regarded her with curiosity, and she stifled the urge to look away. He was dressed in the same furs and studded leather armor as his brother, and he too wore his long hair pulled tightly back, though his was in a braid. His gaze was gentle, and a shy smile played at his bearded face. He was handsome too. Unusually so.
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“Are you well, brother?” the man asked, his brow raised.
He must be looking at the pretty marks I gave him. Joselyn bit her lip.
Hollen put a hand to Joselyn’s back and guided her to stand before him. “I’ve never been better. Brother, meet Joselyn Helena Elise Fury, mu hamma.”
Joselyn stiffened when his fingers brushed her hood, as though he meant to pull it down. At the last moment, his hand fell away.
Hollen’s brother touched his fist to his blond head and drew it down toward Joselyn, opening his fingers as he went. He smiled. “Welcome to Bedmeg, mu Saliga. We have waited a long time for your arrival.”
“Forgive me. I had no idea I was expected.” She didn’t bother hiding her contempt. If he took offense at her sarcasm, he didn’t show it.
“No. Of course you would not. I am Erik the Tempered. Second son of Sven the Collector.”
Joselyn bobbed her head in a makeshift curtsy. His soft manner took her by surprise. She reminded herself that this man hadn’t been the one to take her against her will. If she was going to survive and eventually escape, she could make use of allies. At the very least, it was wise to avoid making enemies wherever possible.
Behind them, Jagomri growled impatiently. Joselyn jumped despite herself, and Hollen steadied her with his hands.
“What news for me, Erik? My bride is tired, and I want to take her to our bok.”
“No news, Salig. It seems Helig favors your bonding.”
Hollen turned to his wyvern and began working at the saddle buckles. “I’m glad you were here to meet us. If others ask, tell them I’ll speak with them in the morning.”
Joselyn moved out of the way as Erik came to stand at Hollen’s other side. “I’ll do this for you.”
Hollen gently touched his fist to his heart. “Thank you.”
Erik laughed, returning the gesture much more forcefully. He flashed a quick smile at her, stroked a hand over Jagomri’s side and began working at the trappings. The beast stretched in relief as the bindings loosened.
While Hollen retrieved his belongings from the saddle, Joselyn squinted toward Bedmeg, trying to make out its details in the waning light. She stood at the bottom of a plunging, snow-covered ravine which led up into an enormous open cave. The cave’s ceiling hung at least fifty feet above the floor and as far as she could see, the open area beneath it served as a common area for Hollen’s people. A half-dozen fires lit the interior, and the tiny silhouettes of people passed around them. Joselyn shivered. The flames might have looked inviting under any other circumstances. Her face stung from the biting chill of the wind, and she’d lost all feeling in her fingers. At least her toes were warm thanks to the well-made boots Hollen had given her.
He came up beside her after swinging his pack over his shoulder. “Come, mu hamma. Let’s get you warm.”
Joselyn threw a glance over her shoulder at Erik. “I thought you said the wyverns were too dangerous to be handled by anyone but their masters.”
Hollen guided her forward. “Yes. That’s true of everyone except Erik. My brother has a way with the gegatu unlike any other. He can swat a brooding mother off her eggs and come away untouched. It’s remarkable.”
They passed Erik’s white wyvern, and the beast ignored them. Still, Joselyn was glad to have Hollen between her and the winged creature. She kept quiet as they approached the edge of the cave. A dark-haired boy clad in furs noticed them first. He called excitedly into the cave, gaining the attention of some thirty men, women and children.
Joselyn’s step faltered as curious eyes shot first to her, then to Hollen, before returning to her. Her captor stopped too. He stroked a thumb across her back in subtle encouragement. Her eyes darted to him. He was fixing his people with a hard, sweeping stare. When Joselyn looked back into the cave, she was surprised to see nearly everyone resuming their previous activities. A dark-skinned woman shushed the boy who’d alerted them, taking him by the arm and shooing him deeper into the cave.
Hollen’s hand pressed her forward. They passed under the sloping roof of the cave. Joselyn felt the people’s covert scrutiny as she and Hollen followed the smooth stone path which wound around the scattered camp fires. Each was surrounded by men as large as or larger than Hollen, all clothed in furs or wool tunics. The women wore woolen spun dresses dyed scarlet, and a few the same brilliant shade of purple as Joselyn’s. The women were a diverse lot, with skin shades ranging from freshly fallen snow to blackest night. Their eyes featured every shape she’d ever seen in her father’s many foreign guests.
The men, however, were slightly less varied. Their skin fell into a milder range of tones, from light cream to warm brown. Many were shirtless, and Joselyn had to work not to stare at the patterns of scarring that Hollen had referred to as his “idadi.”
Although the people kept their eyes to themselves, they were unnaturally quiet, and Joselyn had the distinct impression they hoped to catch a bit of conversation between her and their chieftain. They’d be disappointed, since Hollen was completely silent as he ushered her.
The stone wall that rose into the back of the cave reminded Joselyn of an enormous honeycomb. It was covered in dozens of man-sized holes, which Joselyn was intrigued to see people exit or disappear into. They were scattered at varying heights up the wall, some several stories high with natural winding staircases leading up to them. Hollen ushered her up one such path after pulling a torch from a nearby fire. She walked in front of him, but hesitated when an auburn-haired youth exited a hole, blocking their path.
The young man looked to be about Joselyn’s age, perhaps eighteen years old. He was shirtless, bare of much scarring, though he sported thousands of freckles much like her own. When he spotted the pair of them, his look of surprise morphed into what could only be mischief. He opened his mouth.
“Don’t speak, Sigvard,” Hollen ordered as though he were trying to race the younger man for the first word. “I’ll address you in the morning.”
The redhead grinned and turned his roguish face upon Joselyn. He wiggled his brows suggestively. What was this boy playing at? He turned back toward Hollen and bowed so low his forehead almost brushed his knees. He held his hands to the side, gesturing for them to continue. A corner of Joselyn’s mouth twitched. He was teasing them, or perhaps only Hollen.
The mockery seemed to work. Hollen snorted and rolled his eyes. He pressed Joselyn forward, up the path. As they passed the bowing boy, Hollen flicked him hard on the head.
“Who was that?” Joselyn asked. The boy groaned and rubbed at his skull.
“My podagi little brother, Sigvard.”
“Podagi?”
“Idiot,” Hollen said, loud enough for the redhead to hear.
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Four. You’ll meet the other two tomorrow.”
Joselyn thought a moment. “No sisters?”
Hollen hesitated. Joselyn nearly missed it before he shook his head. “No. No sisters.”
Somehow Joselyn wasn’t surprised. She couldn’t imagine a man with a younger sister, or any sister at all, could bring himself to behave so barbarically toward an innocent woman. Of course, Joselyn had no siblings of her own. Perhaps it was childish fancy to assume sisters trained tenderness in male hearts toward the fairer sex. If she’d had a brother, Joselyn would have taught him tenderness toward women. A years-old bitterness coiled in her gut.
Don’t think about that now.
They continued up the slope in silence. Hollen steadied her the few times she lost her balance on bits of debris. When they were a few stories in the air, he stopped them. They stood at the opening of what she now realized was a smooth winding tunnel. Air whistled inside.
“Go on. This way leads to our bok.”
Did everyone in this village sleep inside these tunnels? She glanced back down into what she now recognized to be the common area, and caught a few people below jerking their inquisitive stares away. She looked at Hollen who was waiting patien
tly for her to move.
“Will we be alone in there?” she asked. She prayed to the gods they would not.
“Yes.” The torch cast a glow on his face.
Joselyn swallowed. The last time he’d led her through a tunnel, he’d carved his mark into her flesh, forever scarring her body. She wondered what he had planned for her this night. Hollen prodded her forward.
Joselyn sucked in a breath and stepped into the darkness.
8
Starting Fires
The glow of Hollen’s torch flickered through the tunnel. A current of air blew from behind them, giving Joselyn the faint impression she was being sucked inside. She crept through the curving channel. Her apprehension grew with each step. She needed a distraction.
“Why were your people so”—she tried to put a word to the forced inattention they’d exhibited—“silent?”
“When a warrior claims a hamma, it is up to him to decide when others may speak to her.”
Joselyn’s nostrils flared. “Of course.”
“Would you have preferred them to rush you all at once?”
In truth, Joselyn was relieved she’d been given time to adjust to her surroundings, but to learn it was the result of her captor’s ownership was too much.
“So when will you decide I’m free to speak to someone, besides you, of course?”
“You may speak to whomever you wish, Joselyn. It’s others who must demonstrate their respect.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe she’d misunderstood the sentiment behind the tradition. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. He was her captor and she had every right to think ill of him. She allowed herself to seethe. Anger was more useful to her than fear.
They continued down the tunnel before stepping through another opening. The light of Hollen’s torch filled in around them, illuminating a gray, dome-shaped room made of porous stone walls. The diameter of the circular pocket was maybe thirty feet and the center of the room measured perhaps twelve feet high. Hollen dropped his bag near the opening and circled the perimeter. He set to work lighting torches that rested in chiseled notches in the walls.