by Darby, Brit
Drake recalled the words he overheard, the lifetime she had longed for her father to love her. Could he ask her to love him freely and not be loved in return? Could he be so cruel?
Yet, even as his mind told him to turn her away, save her the pain he knew he would inflict upon her tender heart, he found he could not. “Aye. You must walk away, Cailin. Forgive my weakness, but I cannot turn you away. I am a man without a will. It abandons me at your slightest touch.”
“I cannot.”
“I will only hurt you. You know this … you rightly fear it. Walk away.”
In reply, Cailin reached up and drew his head down to hers. Her lips found his, soft and sweet, forfeiting her soul to him. It was her answer as she submitted to the desire that consumed them in its flame of destruction. Bitter emotion gripped them both; like a powerful drug coursing through their blood. They knew they would never be able to walk away from the passion they found in each other’s arms.
Chapter Thirteen
CAILIN NOTICED THE ROADS they traveled were becoming more crowded, throngs of people gathering in numbers until she realized it was a procession of worshipers. All converged on Birka, a port town and trading post on the Baltic Sea.
As they neared the town, Drake reined his horse in and stopped before a huge oak, its branches twisted with age. From its limbs hung a great bull, his head nearly touching the ground, earth turned red by blood from his slit throat. Amulets strung amongst the tree branches tinkled eerily as the wind stirred them.
“What is this, Cailin? What is going on?”
Drake’s question drew her gaze to him. “The bull is a sacrifice to the gods. The people are gathering for some special occasion.”
“Ghastly,” Leo murmured.
“It is their way.” It was the only explanation Cailin offered.
“You do not approve of such sacrifices, I hope?”
Cailin was surprised Drake assumed the worst of her. “No, I do not.”
“I should hope not,” Leo chimed in, his disgust made clear by the grimace on his face.
“Yet,” Cailin felt compelled to clarify her statement, “I find all religions have barbaric tendencies, Leo. Even Christianity has a bloody history.”
He did not respond, but looked like a child chastised.
“No matter,” Cailin leaned over from the saddle to pat Leo’s arm, let him know it was all right to feel as he did. “We’d best go.”
Carefully, they rode into town, no easy task as Birka was nearly bursting from the added burden of people, bawling cattle and sheep, rumbling wagons and other traffic. Rickety stalls had been hastily constructed all along the route, and a plethora of hawkers and tradesmen shouted in competing volumes for the attention of passersby. Soon, due to the crush of the crowd, they were forced to dismount and walk their mounts. In the throng Cailin briefly lost sight of Drake, and her tension mounted when he did not reappear. Leo saw her distress and stopped too.
She was about to speak when someone dangled something over her face from behind. A violet-colored ribbon tickled her nose. She whirled and Drake laughed at her surprise.
“A favor for milady,” he said with a brief mock bow, and when he straightened she saw a rare playfulness in his golden eyes. “Alas, I have no pearls or gold to grace your beauty, but this humble ribbon matches your eyes.”
At that moment, Cailin thought the simple ribbon was the most beautiful gift she ever received. She did not ask where or how he bought it, perhaps he even found it in the dirt, but it mattered not. For the first time in what seemed days, she smiled and her heart eased.
“May I glorify your locks?” Drake offered, and seconds later wove the ribbon through the long braid down her back. Perhaps the flutter of the ribbon’s tails caught Disir’s eye, for seconds later the raven landed on her shoulder and picked at the ribbon with what seemed a hint of jealousy.
“I see you have two eating from the palm of your hand now,” Leo called out teasingly.
Cailin laughed and tried to shoo the bird away, but her avian suitor kept a stubborn perch.
“Never mind, milady,” Drake whispered mischievously in her ear. “I’ll win your heart yet.”
She dared not speak nor even look at him. Otherwise, he would know he already had.
WHEN THEY NEARED THE docks, Disir cawed nervously from Cailin’s shoulder, as if in warning. She asked a man nearby what was happening.
“Jarl Ragnald’s son died. The funeral is about to start. Then we shall feast in his honor.”
Sadness touched Cailin. “Which son?”
“Axell.”
“Ragnald’s eldest.”
“Aye. Seems he was taken suddenly by a violent sickness. He was to become jarl upon his father’s death. Now Bjorn, Ragnald’s younger son, will inherit.”
The man’s eyes rolled heavenward and he clutched the amulet he wore about his neck. “May the gods protect us should such a man rule.”
Cailin understood his fear. Ragnald was a respected man and her father trusted him. Trust was an honor Thorvald rarely bestowed on others jarls. Axell was much like his father, Ragnald; stern but fair, he would have made a good leader. Bjorn was another sort of man, devious and mean-hearted, certainly someone Thorvald did not have faith in. She remembered her father warning her to be very careful of Bjorn whenever they visited.
A shiver touched Cailin with such intensity she wrapped her cloak tightly about her. She looked around, nervous, and did not understand the disturbed feeling assaulting her. It was like a cold, icy wind gripped her soul, tight, strangling. Sensing her dismay, Disir screeched and flew off to settle in a nearby tree.
“Are you all right?”
Drake’s voice broke through her distress. “I must see the funeral ship, Drake. We must get closer.”
If he wished to question her request, he did not. Instead, he cleared a path through the crowd. They finally broke free of the suffocating wall of people, to see the Dragon ship before them gently swaying with the ebb and flow of the sea.
The last of Axell’s possessions were carried aboard and laid upon the deck. His body was already inside a protective tent in the middle of the longship, his weapons and shield nearby. A pair of skis and a wooden sledge sat at the prow, ready to aid his journey into the next world.
His horse and dog had already been sacrificed and taken aboard, now warriors stood ready to set the ship afire. When a young slave girl appeared on the docks, Cailin’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. The girl was given a drinking horn and she drank its contents.
“What’s happening?”
Drake whispered the question into her ear but she did not look at him. “The thrall has volunteered to accompany her master into the next life. She …” Cailin swallowed to ease the tightness of her throat. “She has been given a pain-killing drug so she will not suffer.”
She felt him tense. Just then the Angel of Death appeared, in the form of an old woman who approached the drugged girl. It was over in moments, the strangled girl carefully placed at the feet of her dead master.
Cailin heard Drake swear beneath his breath, turn and walk away. Why had she felt the need to witness the funeral? It left her feeling distraught, sad … alone.
The warriors set the ship on fire, and then cut the rope tied to the dock. Slowly, the great ship drifted away and the blaze grew stronger until it completely engulfed the ship. Cailin was mesmerized by the blaze as it consumed everything. Something drew her gaze away and her eyes locked with another’s.
Bjorn stood next to his father, Ragnald, his look appropriately sad for the occasion. But when their eyes met, Cailin saw the lie behind his expression. She did not turn away, even as Bjorn’s curious stare turned angry, then hateful. Her mind’s eye saw his treachery, his cold-blooded murder, spurred on by another … a woman.
A warning shrilled in her mind, ending with a flash of blue and chilling laughter of the unseen woman. Cailin trembled, drawing Leo’s worried look.
“What’s wrong?”
“By all the stars, woman. What made you want to see that?”
Drake felt angry at himself, too. He had done nothing but stand by and watch an innocent girl strangled to death. And for what? Some bizarre pagan notion that this Axell would need his slave in the afterlife.
Cailin said nothing, and he noticed her pale face, her cheeks absent their natural blush. He looked at Leo but his cousin shrugged in equal confusion.
With a sigh, Drake went and lifted Cailin onto a barrel. Her legs dangled limply over the rim. “Fetch the wineskin from the horse’s saddle, Leo. She looks in shock.”
When Leo returned with the wineskin, Drake uncorked and pushed it into her cold hands. “You’re like ice, Cailin. Drink.”
Without argument, she drank. Gradually, some color returned to her face.
“What happened back there?” Drake demanded.
Leo shrugged. “I don’t know.”
His frustration mingled with leftover anger, Drake asked Cailin, “If you knew it was going to upset you so much, why did you need to see the funeral?”
“Sometimes …” Cailin cleared her throat to smooth the tremble in her voice, “I cannot explain my reasons for what I do.”
His anger dissolved in the wake of her obvious suffering. Tenderly, Drake pushed stray hairs from her face, to better see those beautiful eyes that expressed so much emotion. He tried to show patience and hid his frustration with her vague reply. “’Tis this … this Sight you claim to have?”
Her eyes went dark. Drake felt her anger before she even spoke a word.
“I cannot make you believe.” She hopped down from the barrel and turned away from him. “I am not even going to try. What I must do now will be no easier. Perhaps our time to part has come much sooner than planned. It would be best for you to go … now.”
It was such a sudden turnabout, Drake was speechless.
“What do you mean, go?” Leo blurted out, his despair clear as he looked from Cailin to Drake. “Do you honestly believe we are going to leave you here? Alone?”
“You will — you must.”
“Why?” Drake asked. “What has happened, Cailin?”
She did not reply.
“What,” Drake stressed the word, “do you feel you must do now?”
“It is best you do not know,” she whispered, unable to look at him.
He stepped around to face her, tilted her chin up with one hand and forced her to look at him. “I believe we deserve some sort of explanation after all we’ve been through together.”
A soft sigh reached him, its effect on his already strained emotions so intense he nearly grabbed her, to impatiently shake the reason from her. He gritted his teeth, grinding them inside his tense jaw, working the frustration out on himself rather than Cailin. He waited.
“You will not believe me.”
Drake heard her disappointment, her misery, and felt ashamed of the truth in her words. “You believe it — that’s enough for me.”
“And me,” Leo echoed.
Her eyes rounded in surprise. Drake expected the tears women seemed to summon on a whim. None came. Instead, she whispered hoarsely, “Perhaps you should reserve your final decision until I have told you what I’ve seen.”
Hesitantly, Cailin relayed what she had seen in her vision: Bjorn had poisoned his brother with the help of a mysterious woman. She must go to Ragnald and reveal Axell’s murderers.
“That is insane,” Drake said when she finished. “Don’t you know how ridiculous it sounds?”
She nodded. “And dangerous. To accuse Ragnald’s only living heir of such an evil deed is a great risk, as I have no proof. If Ragnald does not believe me, I can be put to death.”
Drake let out his breath in relief. “Then you won’t do such a foolish thing.”
“I’m sorry, Drake. I cannot walk away, not knowing Bjorn has committed murder. Ragnald may be in danger as well. I must tell the jarl what I know.”
“You cannot. It’s too risky.”
Cailin folded her arms and faced them, her determination clear. “I do not expect you two to take the risk as well.”
“What of your father? You’d forsake your original purpose to do this?”
She considered his words. “Thorvald is an honorable man. He respects and trusts Ragnald. He would not want me to walk away either, not for his sake nor mine.”
“This is ludicrous,” Drake’s patience fled and he threw up his hands. “You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known!”
Leo, who had said little till now, spoke up. “Well, we knew it would be dangerous when we agreed to accompany her, cousin. I, for one, think you’re a damned courageous woman, Cailin, and I’ll stick with you, no matter what.”
“God’s wounds, now you’re spoutin’ foolishness, too. Go fetch the horses, Leo. We’re leaving.”
As Leo walked away, Cailin placed her hand on Drake’s arm. “I know you aren’t angry for your own sake, but for fear I will be harmed. Tell me truthfully, if you had seen this murder with your own eyes, would you walk away?”
As her beautiful, jewel-like eyes pushed past his anger to gaze into his soul, Drake knew he could not lie to her. “No.”
“Then how can you ask me to do what you would not?”
He closed his eyes, drawing on his deepest reserves to reason with this woman. When he opened them again, the words came easily. “You’re so damned smart and beautiful, Cailin. Young yet. You have your whole life before you. Don’t throw it away so recklessly.”
“I am not so certain that is what I am doing. Can you not have faith in me?”
“You’re asking me to believe in something I cannot.”
“Then why do you stay by my side?”
It was a direct question, one he could not avoid. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe because you intrigue me.”
Cailin smiled knowingly. “Seems a foolish reason to risk death, Drake. No woman, intriguing or not, is worth dying for.”
“No? I wonder,” Drake whispered and pulled her closer, lifting her chin again so he might gaze into her eyes. “I fear that all these years I have been dead inside, my heart but a cold, unfeeling stone. With you, I came alive. Now I yearn for that which has been beyond my touch. How can I go and leave behind the one thing that has breathed life into my heart and soul? I’ve never been as afraid as I am now, to think I might lose you.”
Was this love? To need someone so much? How had he lived for over thirty years without this? Drake hugged her tightly, fighting the fear he felt strangling him. If he lost this woman, what would he do?
Chapter Fourteen
THE FEASTING HAD ALREADY begun. Ragnald’s great hall was filled with family and friends alike, gathered to celebrate the memory of his son Axell and his journey to Asgard, the next world. Jubilance abounded at every turn, the jarl’s wealth displayed by the rich food and abundance of ale.
Acrobats, jugglers, musicians and skalds entertained, while the women of Ragnald’s household scurried to keep the drinking horns filled. Ragnald himself sat at the end of the room in the traditional high seat, his status distinguished from the others by this position of honor and wealth.
During the feast, Cailin made her way through the throng of people and approached Ragnald. She waited quietly until he noticed her.
“Do my old eyes deceive me? Is this Thorvald’s daughter, Cailin?”
At his booming greeting, she stepped forward with a nod. “It grieved me, Ragnald, to hear of the death of your son. Axell was a good and honorable man.”
Jarl Ragnald looked older than she remembered. It seemed the tragedy cut even
deeper lines in his leathered face, sprinkled more gray throughout the dark strands of hair and beard. His eyes clearly mirrored the pain he carried in his heart. Cailin wondered how her coming revelation would affect him.
Would Ragnald believe her? She was not so naive as to think his blood ties to his last living son would not make this a difficult, if impossible task; a task that might mean her own death, and even that of Drake and Leo who now stood behind her. Cailin drew on the courage of the Dragons, their will mingling with hers. She must see right done, whatever the cost.
“Come, sit,” Ragnald motioned to the seat beside him, and the man occupying it vacated in deference to his invitation to Cailin.
As she made her way around the large trestle table, Ragnald’s gaze followed her. Curiosity lightened them, sadness put aside for the moment.
“Where is your father?”
Cailin sat beside him. “Thorvald is busy and could not come on this trip. I must speak with you, Ragnald. In private, if I may.”
He frowned, his voice edged with irritation. “I feast in honor of Axell.” He slammed his drinking horn down, spilling some ale from it. “What is so urgent it cannot wait until a more appropriate time?”
His growl caught everyone’s attention, yet it was Bjorn’s cold stare from further down the table that disturbed Cailin most. She had no choice but to press the point.
“Please forgive my intrusion in your time of grief, but it is most urgent and cannot wait.”
Another growl sounded from deep in Ragnald’s throat, but Cailin saw the softening that came to his face just the same. “It is only out of respect for your father that I grant your request, my child. Let us go into the next room for the privacy you ask.”
Ragnald stood and Cailin followed. When Drake and Leo moved to do the same, Ragnald put his hand up. “You have not told me who these men are and why they accompany you.”
“This is my husband, Drake Talorcan.” Cailin gestured at them in turn. “And his cousin, Leo.”
“Husband?” he questioned with surprise, studying the two men. “Thorvald said he did not think you would ever marry, not of your own accord anyway. He seemed indifferent to finding you a man. I told him I thought it a mistake to let you run wild.”