Magick (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 2)

by Heather McCollum

  “But I think we should wait...” Dalla started to say, as she let go and glanced back at Hauk striding out of the forest.

  He called out to Merewin, and she turned and waved calmly back at him. But she was determined to enter Ragnor’s hall on her own, right past Svala.

  Merewin pulled her long skirt higher and stepped over the raised wooden door jam. Just as she set her foot down, Svala’s leg shot out. In an instant Merewin fell over the threshold into a puddle of fine wool and fur.

  “Merewin!” Queen Auslaug called and rushed to her side. “Svala, what is the meaning of this?”

  Svala grinned wickedly. “I guess she thought she was too good to follow our customs.”

  “Customs?” Merewin asked, as she ignored the sharp ache in her ankle. Hauk stepped past Svala and picked Merewin completely off the ground into his arms.

  “The groom is supposed to carry you over the threshold of the feasting hall,” Hauk answered. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not much.” Merewin blushed profusely. “I’m not usually clumsy.”

  “Svala tripped her,” Dalla interjected, with a defiant glare at the woman.

  “My pardon,” Svala said with sarcasm. “And such bad luck too, tripping over the threshold.”

  “Bad luck?” Merewin asked, as Hauk set her down on a bench and felt the ankle, instinctively knowing which one hurt.

  Svala slinked into the filling hall. “Aye, to trip over the threshold on your wedding day,” she tsked. “It means ill fortune for the marriage.”

  “But her marriage was blessed by Frigga herself; we all saw it, we all heard it,” Bera huffed as she caught back up to the wedding party.

  Svala frowned.

  Merewin winced as Hauk found the muscle that had been strained. “’Tis in need of wrapping and rest.”

  Svala shrugged her thin shoulders. “Still don’t understand why the woman can’t heal herself if she’s really a healer.” She sauntered away.

  Hauk set Merewin on a bench at the head table as the gathered friends began to talk once again, the awkward silence past. More people from the town began to filter in through the doorway. Food was being set along the broad table. Roasted venison and duck wafted mouth-watering aromas throughout the room. Roasted winter vegetables, at least six different types of poached fish with herbs, and silver bowls of dried fruits were heaped on the many tables set up in the main hall. Three musicians struck up a lively tune near the door. Their lyres and flute lightened the atmosphere.

  “A drink for my wife.” Hauk handed Merewin the silver rimmed horn filled with bridal ale.

  “I believe I’m the one who is supposed to serve my husband,” she retorted, smiling up at him as he sat down heavily.

  “Aye, but you are injured.”

  “By not following tradition,” she replied wryly, and handed the horn back to Hauk. “So there, husband, drink of the bridal ale so I can appease yer gods.”

  Spirit sparked in his deep gray-blue eyes, and he laughed before drinking from the horn.

  “And so Merewin plies her husband with bridal ale!” Ragnar called from his station near his wife on the other side of Merewin. A roar of approval shook the walls as heavy tankards and horns thumped on the wooden tables. Merewin laughed. Vikings knew how to throw a party. She took a sip then of the bridal horn, letting the honey ale sweep away the dryness from her throat.

  The night flew by with dancing and feasting. Merewin’s ankle felt better but she sat out most of the dances due to the slight swelling. Cooks had used the finest herbs to tempt the tongue in each recipe.

  Aslaug and Bera remained close to Merewin, talking and laughing, while Hauk talked amongst the men gathered in small clusters. Merewin decided that her good friend and her new sister had drunk a little too much to be taken seriously.

  “Now, sister.” Bera patted Merewin’s hand. “Queen Aslaug and I should explain to you the delicacies of the wedding bed since you are still a maid.”

  “But we, I mean, ye know that we...” Merewin began, but Bera’s wink stopped her floundering response.

  “Aye,” Aslaug started in, quite serious but a bit slurred in speech. “We need to tell you of your duty to your,” she held out her rather limp hand in Hauk’s direction, “your big man warrior husband there.” Merewin hid a giggle. Perhaps she had imbided a bit too much, herself.

  “My brother is a large man.” Bera winked. “Not that I’ve seen him naked since he was a lad skinny dipping in the lake, but I’m sure he’s grown quite large.”

  “Bera!” Merewin laughed, her eyes wide.

  Aslaug looked quite serious and leaned forward. “You musn’t scream when you see it, Merewin.” She looked reflective for a moment, slender finger against pursed lip. “Although he may like that.” She shrugged.

  Bera began to laugh so hard that Merewin couldn’t contain her own giggles.

  “Ye two are terrible at this,” Merewin reprimanded with laughter. “Aren’t ye supposed to be making me feel less nervous?”

  “What and miss making you squirm like our friends did us,” Bera said, appalled.

  Aslaug nodded vigorously.

  “Nay.” Bera squeezed Merewin’s hand. “Don’t you fret. My brother will take care of you, but I believe you already know that.” She winked again.

  Aslaug leaned in. “But still, he may like it if you scream a little at it. Makes him feel bigger,” she whispered.

  “Doona ye worry, Hauk is plenty big—”

  “Aye, I’m big,” Hauk said, stepping up to the clustered ladies, who turned shocked stares on him. They erupted into laughter so hard that Aslaug fell off her seat. Bera scrambled to help her up while Merewin tried to catch her breath. Hauk frowned at her, but she just waved her hand in the air.

  “Foolish drunken talk of women, Hauk, nothing serious.” Merewin wiped her eyes. She tugged him down closer so she could kiss him. His lips were warm and tasted like sweet ale. “I was but complementing ye husband, doona fear,” she breathed against his lips.

  Hauk kissed her once more and straightened. “I fear nothing.” He seemed more relaxed as he shook his head at his sister and Aslaug. “Except the giggling of drunken women.” He grinned.

  “When do we get to go home?” Merewin moistened her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Hauk stared at her mouth. She could still taste him there.

  “Soon, we leave soon.” His gaze glided down Merewin’s form. It was as if he’d stroked her, and Merewin felt her nipples harden through the fabric. “We have more nights of feasting,” he nodded. “I wouldn’t want to tire you out the first night.” He gestured to Bera and Aslaug, “nor let those two get you too drunk for my bed.”

  “Yer bed, m’lord?” her innocence an obvious ruse.

  Hauk leaned in to her ear, his hands on the bench, his bare muscled arms on either side of her so his eyes were level with her own. “Aye woman, I will have ye naked and thrashing in my bed,” his finger rubbed against her bottom lip, “very soon.”

  Merewin’s breath quickened, and she flushed. The ale making her more daring than usual, her lips closed around his finger. Her tongue rubbed around it, suckling.

  Hauk’s eyes widened slightly and he groaned low. His warrior reflexes kicking in, he scooped Merewin up and tossed her gently over his shoulder. His large hand rubbed her hind quarters.

  “We leave now, wife,” he growled as he headed toward the door. Merewin managed to look up as she heard Bera and Aslaug calling out. They sat together waving.

  “Good luck,” Bera yelled over the melee.

  “Remember to scream a little,” Aslaug called and then shrieked as Ragnar picked her up much the same way. As Hauk carried Merewin out through the door, she saw many husbands picking up their wives to carry them out on their shoulders.

  “Seems the festivities are ending early tonight,” she called to Hauk as she pummeled his back. Once outside he pulled her around and carried her in front of him.

  “Nay woman, the festivities are only just beginn
ing.”

  Chapter 12

  The gods were pleased with him once more. Hauk smiled and relaxed into the walking rhythm of his horse through the sacred grove. Merewin dozed in front of him, her soft body warm against his chest. The poor woman was tired, he thought and smiled. If he were a whistling man, he’d whistle. He’d brought her to Vahalla time after time until she’d begged him to let her rest. Hauk felt more alive than he’d ever felt before.

  He splayed his fingers down through her hair and brushed his lips against the top of her head. She murmured and curled in tighter against him. They rode toward another night of feasting. Perhaps this time they’d actually make it through dinner. As long as she didn’t wrap her hot little tongue around his finger again. If they hadn’t had a room full for an audience, he’d have pushed her up on the table right there and buried himself inside. Just thinking about it made him shift in the seat. An interesting thought that, and he wondered how much weight the main table at Spring House could hold. Perhaps Bera would take Dalla in next week. The newly married should have some time alone together, after all.

  The trees overhead swayed in the breeze. Crisp sun dotted down through the branches. Some were tipped with dormant buds waiting for Spring. Had he ever noticed those before? Signs of new life? His life had always centered on war, conquering, proving himself, and death. Darkness. He looked down at Merewin’s parted lips. He’d given up nearly all that he’d held as most important, yet he didn’t feel any loss. This magnificent, brave, warrior woman curled so trustingly in his arms made him stronger, more powerful than he had ever been. His chest filled until it ached and he pulled her closer to him and inhaled her spicy flower scent. She was magick.

  Drakkina hovered with her dragonflies above the bare branches of the Vikings’ sacred grove. “I can feel the love between them,” she whispered, smiling as her pets zipped in and around. “Soul mates. And the mighty Viking had sworn that Merewin had no power over him. Ha!” She laughed in the ether. “She healed his crusty heart. Love was the only magick that could do that.” She inhaled the smell of crisp winter and closed her eyes. She relaxed into the breeze not quite caring where her filmy body essence would be when she opened them again.

  Her mind floated as she mulled over the amazing magick she’d witnessed between Gilla’s daughter and her mate. The breeze blew against her, through her. And then, something else. Drakkina’s eyes popped open.

  A thin tentacle of oily darkness skimmed by. Chilling power wove into Drakkina’s essence, burrowing into her. She shot her body high overhead until the bit of village where Merewin and her mate rode disappeared. The tentacle followed, tickling along her form, investigating. She’d felt this inkiness before and fear gripped her. “’Tis too soon!” Her ethereal body dove quickly away from Denmark. “I haven’t matched the other sisters with their soul mates yet. ’Tis too soon to fight Gilla’s demons.”

  Think! The thread of darkness sought her essence, trying to identify it. Drakkina called upon the image of Merewin, mimicking her spirit and smell. “That’s it, you hounds from Hell, I’m the girl you seek. Follow me.” She slowed until the bound demons could catch up. “Find me, follow me away from here,” she gritted through her teeth, as the dark thread of power wormed around her trying to catch hold. But Drakkina’s magick made her slippery. She could lose them if she moved swiftly. Concentrating on keeping up the image of one of Gilla’s daughters, Drakkina turned her mind inwards to another time far in the past, and disappeared.

  ****

  “Here Wise Eldgrim, sit here,” Svala crooned sweetly to the old seer, indicating a seat near the fire pit.

  “Thank you, Svala.” Eldgrim accepted the tankard of ale she handed to him.

  “I know how your joints ache so.” She patted his arm.

  “Nay, Svala, Merewin has put an end to those aches,” he chuckled, flexing.

  Svala put on a sweet yet skeptical smile. “Of course she did.”

  “Nay, really, Svala. She wields the gods’ magick.”

  Svala leaned in toward the old man. “I hope you are right and she isn’t just a great illusionist who has cast a spell making you all feel fit again when you are not.”

  Eldgrim frowned and rotated his shoulder. “I certainly feel fit.”

  Svala shrugged. “Well hopefully when the bride begins to feel the effects of the bridal ale, she can keep her illusion up so you all won’t feel sick again.”

  “Svala, I don’t think that’s how...”

  “Excuse me Wise One, I must speak with Aslaug. She looks pale to me.” Svala walked quickly away from Eldgrim as he took several sips of the ale she’d brought him. “Aye, drink up old man.” She waved to Aslaug.

  “Queen, how do you fare today?” she asked, her brows furrowed.

  “Fine, Svala, how are you this eve?”

  Svala waved her hand to indicate Aslaug sit back down. “I am fit, just concerned about you. You look pale to me.” Svala touched Aslaug’s forehead. “Has your heart been heavy again, beating fast?”

  Aslaug’s eyes rolled up toward Svala’s hand. “Nay, not since Merewin helped Ivarr, and then me. I am sure I am quite sound.”

  Svala put on a bland smile. “Aye, you all seem quite happy now that Merewin has rescued you.”

  Aslaug took Svala’s hand from her head and held it. “Now Svala, you must let go of your bitterness toward Merewin. She has become part of our community now. You must accept that.”

  Svala smiled but had to take several breaths to calm the hatred burning the back of her throat. “Of course she has, and I admit I was angry with her initial treatment of me, but I have a large, forgiving heart.”

  Aslaug patted her hand. “It is easier that way.”

  Svala motioned to one of the ladies carrying drinking horns out with ale. “May I get you a drink?” Svala asked.

  “Aye, something to relax my spine a bit. Whenever all these big men cram in here and then get drunk, well it makes me jittery that something will be ruined. I had all the costly rugs rolled away and put down some older ones.” She leaned into Svala. “I hope none will notice.”

  Svala took the drink. “I’m certain none will. Look Aslaug, here comes your handsome king.” Aslaug turned to wave at Ragnar.

  In a quick gesture seen by none, Svala dropped the horn beneath the edge of the table. She opened the top of her large ring and poured half the powder into Aslaug’s drink.

  “Here Queen, your ale.”

  “Aye, thank you, Svala.” She sipped.

  “Now let me know if you feel that racing in your heart again. I still worry about Merewin’s abilities to really heal. I hope she isn’t just some terrible illusionist whose power will run out.”

  Aslaug frowned but took another drink as Svala flounced away.

  Two done. Eight crucial people to go. Svala smiled at some other women who walked in. She made her way around the room, stopping only to refill her hollow poison ring. Each powder was potent for some ailment. She didn’t plan to kill anyone, only emphasize the ailment that they had at once sought out Merewin to cure.

  Bajalki was taking care of everyone else by putting the required low dose of hemlock in the haddock chowder, its flavor hidden by the strong onions the cook liked to use. Unless someone was to eat several bowls, they should recover after a bout of vomiting. She needed these people sick for her plan to work. And it must work. Svala clenched her hands together. This was her last chance to turn Hauk away from the whore who’d ruined all her plans. Her life depended on it.

  Svala’s grip tightened as Merewin and Hauk ducked through the doorway. Cheers and greetings, sprinkled with a few lewd jokes, flew around the filling room. Gliding to a darker corner of a small room off the main hall, Svala filled her ring one last time with a powder just for the blushing bride. She blended back out into the throng, continuing to make pleasant conversation while leaving brief misgivings about Merewin’s abilities before moving on. She stood near the back of the busy room, looking down at her ring and rehears
ing in her mind how she would get closed to Merewin. Then she must check on Aslaug who had put her hand to her chest moments ago. Just as she was about to turn, Svala felt heavy hands clamp down on her shoulders.

  His smell filled her immediately, causing a rush of excitement to leap into her heart. Her stomach, already nauseous, flipped at his closeness. She inhaled man and pine. Svala raised her gaze to look up at Hauk. She smiled casually.

  “I did not expect you to attend. You caused enough mischief yesterday. What are you up to tonight, Svala?”

  Svala blinked with what she hoped was a most innocent expression, even though she felt her face flush. “Mischief? I but reside here, Hauk. And there seems to be a feast so I will attend, not that I am happy about the cause for celebration.”

  He stared at her, his blue-grey eyes piercing. He was assessing her demeanor. How could he possibly know anything?

  “I haven’t seen you smile for a long time,” he commented. “You are much more comely when you aren’t angry, Svala. Let the anger go and you’ll find another mate soon.”

  Svala’s heart thumped painfully in her chest and she felt tears well up in her eyes. She was so emotional these days. “It is you I want, Hauk, no other.”

  He released her shoulders and a chill ran through her blood again. “You can find love and be a vital part of this community if you would stop battling against fate’s path.” His look softened with sympathy.

  Svala’s anger surged back into the pit of her belly. “Don’t pity me, Hauk. I am much too clever to be pitied.” Svala made her face relax back into something of a smile. “I pity you.”

  “How so?” Hauk’s gaze scanned the crowd again, and Svala knew he’d be leaving her side soon.

  “When you realize you’ve been tricked again by a self-professed healer, I will be here to comfort you again, like before.”

  Hauk’s stare swung back. “Svala, I regret that one night. It was just after their deaths. I should never have…”

  She put her finger against his lips. “I will be here when the truth comes out.” Svala sauntered away before he could walk away from her.