Viking Conspiracy

by S. T. Bende

  Axel’s eyes narrowed as he scooped up a chunk of snow. “In your dreams.”

  For the next few minutes, we forgot all about training, and threats, and strategy. We were just two friends, standing on the side of a mountain, pelting each other with snowballs.

  While our dragons looked on.

  Chapter 17

  I VOLUNTEERED TO TAKE care of the dragons after our lesson. Axel was soaked from our snowball fight, and I wanted to check on Borg, anyway. She’d grown a lot since I’d first met her, but she was still no bigger than a Labrador . . . and she was still a killer snuggler. After an afternoon being buffeted by wind, baby dragon cuddles were exactly what I needed. Well, baby dragon cuddles and a long, hot bath.

  After feeding the big dragons and making sure they were comfortable in their stalls, I slipped into the Littles’ pen. Fang, Flame, and Marta looked up from their heated game of tug-of-war, while Borg dropped the rope they’d been fighting over and barreled straight toward me. I barely managed to latch the gate behind me before she leapt at my chest, claws out.

  I covered my face a split second before two reptilian paws landed square on my elbows.

  “No, Borg! Your nails! Retract!” Borg struck with enough force that I stumbled backward. I tripped over my own feet and landed on my butt in a thick pile of hay.

  Fang, Flame, and Marta looked up as I yowled. Apparently, human pain passed for dragon sport, because they loped toward me to lick my face.

  “Ugh. Thanks, guys.” I wiped a thick layer of drool off my cheek before checking my arms. No blood! Either Borg had missed me, or she’d mastered the claw-retraction trick we’d been working on. I reached out to scratch her head.

  “Thanks for not goring me,” I whispered.

  She chuffed in response, wiggling under my hand so I could scratch her favorite spot—the one below her left ear. When I hit her happy place, she purred.

  God, they’re so cute.

  The rest of the Littles jostled for my attention, and I relegated both hands and one elbow to dragon-petting duty. After a while, Fang and Flame went back to their game, and I was left with Borg and Marta. The two curled up on either side of me, nestling their little heads on my lap before emitting tiny puffs of smoke. Low whistles escaped from their nostrils, giving way to rumbles as they slipped into a deeper sleep. This was it. This was my happy place—for the moment, at least.

  That hot bath would have to wait.

  Careful not to wake the sleeping dragons, I reached for the basket in the corner of their stall, withdrew a blanket, and spread it over my legs. Then I leaned against the wall and settled in for a good, long rest.

  A familiar, nasally whine jostled me from my nap.

  “What do you mean you haven’t seen my sister? Don’t you oversee the dragon departures? What kind of an idiot are you?”

  Brigga.

  I scooted closer to the stall door, wondering who’d gotten on her bad side this time. She hadn’t shown up to our last few acquisition and dissemination classes, and while her absence had meant a more peaceful environment for all, Katrin and I had started to wonder if she planned on returning. Maybe she’d dropped the class?

  “I’m sorry, Miss Brigga.” The voice belonged to one of the more junior dragon trainers—a soft-spoken girl named Anna. “Birna didn’t check out a dragon—are you sure she’s not on the island?”

  “Do you think I’d be here if she was?” Brigga’s words absolutely dripped with disdain. “I’ve been looking everywhere for her for weeks.”

  “Weeks?” Anna’s voice rose. “Have you alerted our guards? Surely they’d want to—”

  “This is a family matter,” Brigga snapped. “And I’m dealing with it. My sister had to have taken off on a dragon. One must be missing—find it.”

  “None of the adults are gone,” Anna hedged. “Unless she’s managed to control one of the juveniles, which none of us have been able to yet . . .”

  Oh, no.

  Please don’t come over here. Please, please, please.

  I held very still, willing the snoring dragons in my lap to stay quiet.

  “Where are the juveniles?” Brigga demanded.

  Skit.

  I tugged the blanket over my head and flattened my back against the wall. If I was lucky, maybe they’d think I was one of the Littles hunkered down for a nice, long nap.

  Yeah, right.

  Angry footsteps stormed down the barn. I held my breath as they paused outside my stall. “Is it this one?”

  “No, those are the babies.” Anna’s work boots padded toward the pen across the aisle. “The juveniles are in here. And they’re all accounted for.”

  “Well she took something off the island. What else do you have here? The gods sent dragons; did the Valkyries send pegasus?”

  “We don’t have winged horses, ma’am. And if we did, we certainly wouldn’t keep them in here—the dragons would eat them.”

  “Well, where would you keep them?”

  “We’ve not received any other animal gifts.” Anna’s voice wavered. “I don’t know what to tell you—your sister didn’t take one of our animals. You might want to check with the domestic barn—perhaps she’s taken one of the horses to the mainland.”

  “She’s a dragon-training student,” Brigga snapped. “If she was going to disappear, she’d have taken a dragon.”

  “Well, she didn’t,” Anna said quietly.

  Footsteps stormed away from my stall. With a relieved sigh, I lowered my blanket into my lap.

  “This stall’s empty. Where’s this dragon?” Brigga demanded.

  “That stall belonged to Axel’s old dragon,” Anna said sadly. “Clan Bjorn killed him when they discovered Axel working with their slaves. Surely you knew about this?”

  The silence stretched out for so long, I wondered if Brigga and Anna had left the Dragehus.

  Finally, Brigga’s biting words pierced the calm. “When exactly was this?”

  “About two months ago, I believe? Maybe less?”

  This time the tension was so thick, I had no doubt they were still here. Gulp.

  “I see.” Why did Brigga sound defeated?

  “If Birna is missing, we should organize a search party,” Anna said. “Once the storm passes, I’ll gather the riders and—”

  “I told you,” Brigga said quietly. “I’m handling it.”

  “But Miss Brigga, your sister’s life could be at risk. The winter has been brutal, and if she’s out there in these storms she could well be—”

  “I said I’m handling it,” Brigga snapped. “Now get out of my way.”

  “I only want to help ensure—”

  “I don’t need your help,” Brigga spat. “She’s my sister, which makes this my problem. I’ll figure it out.”

  Furious footsteps stormed down the aisle.

  “That’s not how things work in Valkyris,” Anna called after Brigga. “We look out for each other!”

  But the slam of the door let me know Brigga was gone. She left behind a sighing Anna, two snoring Littles, and a thousand unanswered questions.

  What the hell is going on?

  That night after dinner, Erik, Helene, and I gathered in the social area. While I tried valiantly to beat Erik in our third game of hnefatafl, Helene sat in front of the fire, knitting what looked like a very crooked scarf. Or part of a sweater. Or a hat?

  It was hard to tell.

  “What exactly are you making?” Erik glanced over from our game.

  “Mittens,” Helene said proudly. “I’m going to give them to Aunt Freia.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Erik captured one of my pieces before turning to his cousin. “And would her hands be the size of my forearm?”

  “I think I’m supposed to loop this end around here.” Helene tugged on the fabric. “Or maybe it’s like this?” She tried again from a different angle. “Gods, I’m the worst at this.”

  “Ja,” Erik agreed.

  “No, you’re not.” I glared at Erik. “If it’
s too long—or the wrong shape—for mittens, why don’t you make Freia a scarf? I’m sure she’d love one, especially since the weather doesn’t seem to be improving at all.”

  “Tell me about it,” Helene mumbled. “I had to deliver a message to the domestic barn this morning, and I nearly got blown over on my way there!”

  “Ha! Try flying a dragon in this wind. Axel took me out shooting during the worst of it, and I swear I thought I was going to disappear forever.”

  “Axel made you fly in this?” Erik raised a brow.

  “He said it was important to practice in inclement weather. Apparently, war strikes at inconvenient times.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Erik agreed. “You going to move, or what?”

  “I’m thinking.” I studied the board. Seeing an advantage, I moved into a square and snatched up one of Erik’s men. “Ha!”

  “Ha yourself.” Erik plucked up another of my pieces. “Two more and that’s a game. You sure you want to keep playing?”

  “I will beat you, Halvarsson. Maybe not this round, and maybe not the next, but one day. And soon.”

  I jumped squares, and Erik secured his victory. Dang it.

  “You keep telling yourself that.” He chuckled. “Helene? You want to play?”

  “I’m making a scarf.”

  “I thought it was mittens,” Erik said.

  “Now it’s a scarf. Try to keep up.” Helene bit down on her bottom lip.

  “Ja. Well . . .” Erik leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. “What do you say, Saga? Ready to lose to me a fourth time?”

  “We could chalk this up to you being a terrible teacher,” I pointed out.

  “Hey! I taught you too,” Helene objected.

  Oops.

  “Either way, I’m due for a break.” I nestled into my armchair. “Did I tell you what happened in the Dragehus today?”

  “No.” Erik leaned forward and began packing up the game.

  “Brigga was there.” I kept my voice low. “And she was mad.”

  “When isn’t Brigga mad?” Helene rolled her eyes. “What was it this time?”

  “I guess her sister’s missing—sounds like she’s been gone for a while.”

  Erik stilled. “Missing? What happened?”

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Brigga said she’d been looking for her for a few weeks—she thought Birna must have ridden one of the dragons somewhere.”

  “Were any of the dragons gone?” Erik resumed cleaning up our game.

  “None. Well, except the one Axel took to Clan Bjorn. But . . .”

  A storm passed across Erik’s face. “Bjorn will pay for what they did to that dragon.”

  “It was an act against the gods,” Helene agreed. “But what does it have to do with Birna’s disappearance? If she’s even missing at all. She probably just found another guy and couldn’t be bothered to tell her sister she’d be sleeping over indefinitely.”

  “Maybe. But wouldn’t she have come to class? No guy’s worth flunking out for. No offense,” I added to Erik.

  “None taken,” he said seriously. “I agree.”

  “So, nobody’s worried about Birna?” I asked.

  “Birna’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.” Erik folded his arms.

  Where I came from, there was no way a teenager could just take off like that. Apparently, adult supervision worked differently in Vikingdom, and truancy wasn’t the high crime it was in my era. But still . . .

  “Haven’t her teachers noticed she’s gone?” I asked.

  “I’m sure they have. And her marks will likely suffer because of it. But we don’t mandate academy attendance,” Erik said. “We expect our citizens to evolve to the best versions of themselves, but how they choose to do that is up to them. My parents are big on free will.”

  “I guess,” I said. “Brigga just sounded really stressed out.”

  “Brigga will be fine,” Helene chimed in. “It’ll do her some good to think of someone else for a change.”

  Since neither of them looked the slightest bit concerned, I resolved to let it go.

  “Ugh. My scarf is unraveling.” Helene threw her knitting to the ground. “Forget it. This is too hard.”

  Erik bent over to pick up Helene’s creation. “Maybe Axel can fix it.”

  “Ooh! I didn’t think about him!”

  “Hold up.” I raised a hand. “Axel? The guy who just tortured me on dragonback . . . he can knit?”

  “Axel’s a brilliant knitter.” Helene nodded. “Anybody know where he is?”

  “Drying off. I kicked his butt in a snowball fight.” I snorted.

  Erik tilted his head at me. “Really?”

  “You would have been proud,” I confirmed. “He’ll probably join us later.”

  “Fine. I’ll wait.” Helene snatched her knitting from Erik and scooted her chair closer to the table. “Now reset the board if you want to lose to a real hnefatafl player.”

  Hey!

  Erik frowned. “But I just put it away.”

  “Well, un-put it away,” she retorted. “Unless you’re afraid of getting beaten by a girl.”

  “I’ve beaten him before!” I protested.

  “Not recently. You seem to have lost your edge.” Erik patted my hand. I growled. “It’s okay, min kjære. You’ll get it back.”

  “I have not lost my edge,” I gritted.

  Helene rubbed her hands together. “Get ready to lose, cousin.”

  “In your dreams.” Erik laughed.

  For the next hour they traded victories, alternately ridiculing and begrudgingly praising each other as their luck shifted back and forth. While they played, I leaned back in my chair, tucked my feet beneath my butt, and tried not to worry about what was or wasn’t happening with Brigga and Birna. My friends were right—they could take care of themselves.

  So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong?

  Chapter 18

  I DIDN’T HAVE THE luxury of dwelling for long. The next morning, I was back in the thick of it in Acquisitions and Dissemination. Brigga was still absent, which meant Katrin and I had to work through the latest manifest on our own. This shipment had contained a lot of weapons—mostly swords, but there were a few things we were unfamiliar with. We pored over the notes and drawings, trying to extract information that could be useful to Valkyris or the rest of the northern territories.

  “This one’s interesting.” Katrin looked up from her page. “It’s a sword, but with a thin blade—maybe two inches thick? And the handle is almost ornamental. Look.”

  She held up a piece of parchment. In addition to the notes, it contained a rough sketch. It was definitely a sword with a long blade that tapered to a point at its end. But instead of the basic T-shaped hilt I was used to, this one had a small dome covering the handle, with an intricate metal wrap that looked a bit like a sculpture. I racked my brain, trying to remember where I’d seen something like it before. It was rough, definitely a rudimentary version of the 18th century weapon, but I was pretty sure this was the very distant relative of a rapier. Cool!

  “The notes say it’s lighter than a standard broadsword, with greater flexibility.” Katrin looked up again. “What do you make of that?”

  “I think these will be of great use to a certain shieldmaiden trainee.” I grinned. Ingrid would love working with a rapier. Even if it would be known by another name for the foreseeable future. Shieldmaiden blade? Lady sword?

  Blech. It was a good thing the actual disseminators oversaw those kinds of decisions. Naming things was definitely not my forte.

  “What should we put in the report?” Katrin asked.

  “I’ll take that one. You want to parse the spice list?” I slid my parchment across the table.

  “More spices, huh?”

  “They seem to be the thing these days. This so-called weapon shipment had a whole section dedicated to them.” I cracked a smile. “Apparently, we’re not the only ones who are des
perate to improve the mutton stew.”

  “You’d think they’d take it off the menu,” Katrin complained. “Ah, well. Spices it is. Trade.”

  She passed me her paper, and I grabbed a blank piece of parchment. I drew a line vertically down the page, writing “Object” on one side and “Uses” on the other. After scribbling “long, thin sword with dome-shaped handle” under the object header, I placed my writing feather to the uses side and paused. I knew from Shakespeare’s plays that rapiers had often been paired with daggers and that they’d been used in some epic pirate fights . . . at least, they had in movies. But what uses would be applicable in Viking times? And more importantly, how could I disclose the sword’s uses without looking like I knew too much?

  I re-read the explorer’s notes and decided I’d just expand from there. I put my feather to paper and wrote.

  * * *

  Long, thin sword with dome-shaped handle. Uses include: (1) Flexible blade for fighting in more confined spaces. Allows for maximum force with minimal windup. (2) Lighter weight allows for prolonged usage, or usage by less muscular fighters. Ideal for lighter-weight warriors. (3) When paired with a second blade, perhaps one shorter in length, it will allow for fighting at both medium and close range. User can throw opponent off balance with longer blade while delivering a fatal blow at close proximity with shorter one. (4) Since hilt is dome-shaped, user’s sword hand has some additional protection. May be useful for combat situations in which traditional T-shaped hilts have proven less effective.

  * * *

  When I finished writing, I picked up the manifest. A cursory read revealed a series of swords and axes, most of which Valkyris already possessed. One or two had a slightly different blade shape, including one that looked a lot like a samurai sword. I’d never seen one in person, and I wondered if any of those had come home with the explorers. My mind drifted to a world in which a considerably more agile me spun cat-like around the training arena, kicking Erik’s butt with a curved blade in each hand.