by Darby, Brit
“Drake,” she screamed and pointed to where she had seen Leo pulled under. “Leo!”
Whether he actually heard her, or only saw her gesture, he understood her message. He looked back and Leo’s head bobbed up briefly. Drake swam back and dove into the blackness. Cailin watched, fearful and anxious as the fire assaulted her in angry force. It was only seconds, but it seemed forever before Drake surfaced with Leo in tow.
Cailin turned her attention back to the small dinghy and managed to drag it closer to the edge. With a cry of exertion, she hefted it over the side of the listing vessel. Where she got the strength, she didn’t know; she didn’t care. Her only thought was of the two men below who needed to get out of the water before they froze to death.
Chapter Twenty-one
DRAKE AND LEO MANAGED to flip the dinghy upright and crawl into it. When Drake looked up at the galley, he saw Cailin crawling onto the edge. Flames consumed the ship and it creaked and groaned in its agony, listing to port side as it started to sink into the sea.
He shouted for her to jump. Risking injury from a fall was preferable to burning alive. He saw her hesitate and his innards twisted with terror. The roaring fire drowned out her reply, and Drake watched in helpless agony as the flames grew higher and smoke obscured her slender figure in the night, her clothes now burning. He went hoarse from shouting, his knuckles white where they gripped the sides of the dinghy.
Then, with a human-like groan of snapping timbers and sparks, the ship rolled, shuddered and sank into the sea’s black embrace, flames hissing where they met seawater. Cailin was nowhere to be seen. Never had he felt so anguished. “Cailin!” Drake yelled, frantically scanning the moonlit water for any sign of her. He cried her name until his voice rasped and broke — there was no answer.
“We must go, Drake.” Leo’s voice drew Drake’s desperate gaze to him as he struggled with the oars he gripped, trying to row them clear of the galley, lest they be dragged down with it.
“No,” Drake yelled. “I will not leave her.”
When Drake turned his back to Leo, prepared to jump back into the blackness surrounding them, Leo reacted without hesitation. He rose and brought one of the oars smack down upon his cousin’s head.
When Drake crumpled into the bottom of the dinghy, unconscious, Leo mumbled a quick prayer that he had not hurt him by doing so. Then put his mind to keeping them alive. He rowed with everything he had, the exertion helping to distract from the emotional pain.
Once clear of the galley’s deathbed, he paused to catch his breath as tears rolled down his cheeks. “There’s no possible way—” Leo did not finish, despair crushing any hope that Cailin survived such a disaster.
“I must row,” he mumbled, and added to Drake’s unconscious form, “I don’t know about you, cousin, but I’m freezing my nuts off. We have to find land. Quick.”
Leo couldn’t see the bottom of the boat, but he felt their fate. Icy water was seeping in through the bottom of the wooden hull. The fire had damaged the dinghy and it was no longer seaworthy. “By Tailtiu’s teats,” he cursed, putting his back into the task at hand.
Over and over he pulled the oars through the water, the sound steady, calming. Suddenly, he stilled and listened. He heard something, he knew it. He twisted about, searching the darkness. In the distance, he heard a horn sound.
“I’ll be damned, Drake.” His cousin had not stirred, but it comforted him to talk to him regardless. “It’s another ship. They must have seen the flames and are looking for survivors.”
Leo sighed in relief when he heard the sound again. “It’s our lucky night.” Then, realizing how cheery his words sounded in the wake of utter disaster, he went silent and focused on rowing.
He started rowing with all his might toward the noise, and soon saw light glowing in the vast ocean of blackness. Others who survived the galley fire paddled towards the strange ship in desperation, where it glowed like a beacon of hope to the stranded sailors. Leo hoped and prayed Cailin was among those other survivors.
CAILIN SURFACED WITH A strangled gasp, the shock of the icy water numbing her hands where they clung to the ship’s mast. She was only dimly aware of the soot and smoke swirling about her, and the flotsam crashing into her with each rise and swell of the waves. Night made it difficult to see. She tried to call out, but no sound came from her. From fire to frozen waters, surely her body was grievously damaged, yet something gave her the strength to hold on. The Dragons …
She managed to drag herself onto the still floating spar. The sea was silent now and calm, as if claiming the ship had sated its hunger. She fell into an exhausted sleep.
BY TORCHLIGHT GUNNAR STUDIED all the survivors brought aboard and recognition lit his eyes when they fell upon Leo. His brow furrowed and he grabbed Leo roughly by the arm. “Where is Cailin?” he demanded.
Leo met the Viking’s stare more calmly than he felt inside. “Who?”
“Do not toy with me, Pict. I know you are the two slaves she bought before her escape.”
“The woman from Hedeby?”
“Ja,” Gunnar snarled. He looked prepared to slay Leo on the spot. “My woman.”
Leo stiffened at this claim, but his voice came out even and controlled. “Oh, her. We parted ways some time ago. She wanted to go south and we weren’t of the same mind.”
Gunnar’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing more. He pointed to Drake as his men deposited him on the deck. “What happened to him?”
“The mast fell and knocked him out.”
Again, Gunnar eyed Leo suspiciously. “You managed to get him in that boat? You don’t look like you could lift a child, let alone a grown man.”
Leo grinned. “I’m wiry but strong.”
As he spoke Leo’s gaze was drawn to movement across the deck. He recognized the woman dramatically sweeping toward them, her blue cape flapping in the wind, her expression gloating. He swore beneath his breath. How fast their luck had turned to disaster!
“Gunnar, I did not think you could delight me more than the day you rescued me from hungry wolves. But, I must admit, you have outdone yourself. To pluck these little fish from the sea from amongst all others is truly miraculous.”
Gunnar turned on Thyra as she spoke. “What makes you think I give a damn about what you want, woman?” he bellowed. Leo saw a red haze drifting over Gunnar’s twisted face and almost felt pity for her.
Thyra looked taken aback by Gunnar’s rage. “That man killed Bjorn,” she whimpered, pointing at Drake.
“What makes you think I give Frigg’s fuck about your dead lover, either? My sole goal is to retrieve my property, and once I have her in hand, I will certainly have no need of your wet services any longer.”
The blood drained from Thyra’s face. She was pale in contrast to Gunnar’s mottled skin. Bitterness filled her eyes and voice. “You still pursue her, after she has taken another for a husband?”
Gunnar drew his sword from its scabbard. “It is simple enough to make her a widow.”
Drake roused to the point of a sword against his jugular. “Gunnar,” he spat, making the name sound like an oath. Then he felt the lump on his head and added with a wince, “Damn.”
“Aye, thrall,” the Viking ground out between clenched teeth. “The gods saw fit to deposit you into my hands. They have forsaken you, Pict.”
When the sword moved off his throat, Drake stood, paying little heed to the blade waving in his face. He was well aware of Gunnar’s threat, but felt unafraid. He gambled the Viking would not slay him yet. If Gunnar intended to kill him, surely he would have slain his rival when he was unconscious and there was no threat.
Gunnar repeated his demand. “Where is Cailin?”
“Dead.” With sudden anguish, Drake remembered the burning ship, seeing Cailin’s slight form vanishing into the burning maw of the sea. Perhaps the agony in the single word he spoke was real enough for even Gunnar looked hesitant.
Leo shot him a warning look, but Drake knew there was no gett
ing out of their dire situation with honeyed words. His grief and anger prompted him to say what he thought. Cailin had told him the story of Gunnar’s strange obsession, one bordering on lunacy. It was fodder now.
“Perhaps it’s best she’s gone. You are a cruel and spiteful bastard, Gunnar. No wonder my wife found you so distasteful.” Drake snorted. “It’s pathetic, really. All those years, following after her like a lovesick hound … sniffing and whining after her like she was a bitch in heat.”
A low growl erupted from Gunnar’s throat. It should have stilled Drake’s tongue, but surprisingly, Thyra stepped between them.
“Ja, you are a cold-hearted beast, Gunnar. But I did not think you a fool.”
“Get out of my way, woman, lest I split you in two.”
Thyra’s anger matched his. “You prefer a woman who despises you, than one who is willing and able to give you your heart’s desire?”
“What do you know of my heart? You are a whore, and worse. Now be gone, or I swear I will kill you and throw you overboard for Jörmungandr to devour.”
Drake moved around Thyra and attacked with the only weapon he had — words. “Cailin told me her father treated you like a son, Gunnar. How is it your true nature was so cleverly concealed all those years?”
Gunnar’s dark eyes turned on Drake and he saw the torture written there, the obsession bordering on madness. Still he provoked the blond giant.
The Viking stepped closer, bringing the blade up to his throat. Drake did not flinch, even as the tip of the sword nicked flesh and drew blood.
“She took a lowly slave as her husband — a stranger,” Gunnar growled.
“Yes.” Drake would not deny the fact.
“She gave you what was mine to take!”
It took a few seconds for Drake to understand Gunnar was referring to Cailin’s virtue. “She gave what was hers to give and certainly never yours to take.”
“But you are wrong. She is mine to take as I please. I know she is not dead, Pict; I see it in your eyes. Now I will ask one last time, before I toss you both back into the sea for the sharks to scavenge. Where is Cailin?” he thundered.
“Don’t tell him.” Leo spoke up quickly. “We forfeit our lives the moment he has the information.” Furious, Gunnar whirled and struck Leo hard across the face, sending him flying halfway across the deck.
Thyra glared at Gunnar. “These thralls are useless. Kill them and be done with it.”
“Be silent. They may yet serve another purpose. I hear there is a certain emperor who would pay well to get them back.” Gunnar laughed cruelly. “Yes, the slaver Ichbar was full of gossip about these two, and most willing to share it for the right amount of silver.”
Thyra shrugged. “You waste your time.”
“Silence,” Gunnar ordered again. He stared down into her sullen face. “I told you to go, woman. I have no need for you now that Cailin is near. She cannot be far from these two. I will find her and take her home to my furs.”
Thyra laughed bitterly. “You might forcibly take what you wish from Cailin’s body, but you will never have her heart. Best cut it out when you find her, for that is the only way you shall ever have it.”
Gunnar reached out and grabbed a handful of Thyra’s hair, twisting it about his fist to yank her close. “If I can’t have her love, woman, I accept her hate. But either way I will taste of her sweetness again and again, until I no longer suffer this cursed craving. Until then, I shall vent my lust upon your worthless carcass.”
With that he dragged Thyra stumbling behind him, his intention clear to take her somewhere and lay claim to his threat. Drake’s cry of rage echoed as he fought his captors, then he was silenced as three men beat him down.
Chapter Twenty-two
WHEN CONSCIOUSNESS STIRRED AGAIN, it was dawn. Cailin’s eyes burned as she blinked against the gray horizon. She saw wreckage strewn for miles across the open waters, vestiges of the ill-fated ship. Yet no sign of life but her own. Drake and Leo? She dared not think of them; to think brought a strangling fear of loss. Her sob was a forlorn sound, even to her own ears.
SOMETHING POKED HER ARM. Again. She roused, shaking her head in confusion. Her gaze focused on something shiny and black just inches from her face. Feathers. Disir pecked again, this time causing pain.
“Oww,” Cailin muttered, swiping weakly at the raven. She found she still lay upon the floating mast, by some miracle it had not sunk into the sea. Yet hours had passed, for now the sun hung low on the horizon. The thought of spending another night drifting exposed on the endless waters sent shivers through her. But far worse was not knowing what had happened to Drake and Leo.
As if reading her mind, Disir cawed. He hopped from the mast onto her shoulder, picking at her hair with his strong beak. Cailin felt the ribbon slip from her head, and saw Disir had it clasped firmly in his beak.
“Disir, that is not yours to take,” she muttered, but the bird only made a chortling noise and took flight, the violet ribbon dangling from his beak, twisting and whirling in the wind. As he soared off into the sunset, Cailin thought he seemed to have some destination in mind. She was too exhausted to care or to worry. She closed her eyes and let the sea rock her back to sleep.
DRAKE AND LEO HUDDLED together in the bow of the Dragon ship, each chained by fetters to the hull. Rain drenched them thoroughly, the night’s chill setting deep into their bones. Drake heard Leo’s teeth chattering, but his cousin’s voice still held a note of humor.
“Damnation, I b-bloody well hate being c-cold.”
“Stop whining, Leo. Would you rather we were dead?”
At the mention of death, both men grew somber, each thinking what Drake finally voiced aloud in an agonized whisper. “I can’t believe Cailin is gone.”
“S-she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known; maybe s-she s-survived.”
Drake’s thoughts turned darker. “How? Even if she survived the fire, she ended up in freezing cold water. No one would survive that for long. Not even Cailin.”
Leo shook his wet head, slinging rivulets of water that blended with the rain pouring down upon them. “No, I refuse to believe s-she is d-dead.”
“You sound like Cailin when she speaks of her father’s fate.”
“Perhaps I’ve learned s-something from that wife of yours,” Leo said. “It’s called f-faith. You might t-try it.”
Just then Drake heard something. “Shhh,” he cocked his head and listened beyond the sound of Leo’s chattering teeth. Rain pelted the ship. Waves sloshed against the hull, spraying over the sides and cascading in walls of water onto them. He heard the low groan of wood fighting against the rise and fall of the sea; all natural sounds, but this new one was not. It came again.
Drake studied the surrounding darkness but it was like an inky cloak, impossible for him to see. He decided it was his imagination when a sudden shifting of black on black caught his eye. Suddenly, Disir was there, landing upon the crate they were chained beside with what sounded like a proud caw. “The raven.”
“The s-saints be p-praised,” Leo whispered to Disir, “but for once I’m glad to see your ratty-looking c-carcass.”
Drake saw something in the bird’s beak and cautiously reached out to him. “What do you have there, Disir?” Hesitantly, he took the item from the raven. The bird rose into the air, his ebony form disappearing into the night within seconds, only his triumphant, ghostly caw reminding them he had even been there at all.
“W-what is it?”
Drake examined Disir’s offering, then smiled with relief. “The ribbon I gave Cailin.”
“Of c-course,” Leo laughed. “Why else would he b-bring it to us? It’s a sign. She’s alive, Drake!”
Looking at his cousin’s broad “I told you so” smile, Drake felt tears spring to his eyes as he clutched the small, storm-battered token. In the darkness of the rainy night, even Leo would not see the tears of relief that mingled with rain upon his cheeks.
“THE WOMAN IS AWAKE now, my l
ord.”
“Excellent, Yosef. I assume her wounds were tended as ordered?”
The Nubian eunuch nodded. “She had surprisingly few, considering her ship’s fate.”
Prince Oleg rubbed his jaw. “I am most curious how she came to survive both the fire and freezing waters. I must question her now, but gently, I promise.” He started for the captain’s tent at the stern to visit the curious woman they had fished from the sea.
Cailin awoke in a fog of confusion to find herself safe and warm in a pile of furs, on what she recognized as a ship’s deck, though she knew at once it was foreign. She heard voices beyond the tent she was in and picked up bits of Baltic tongues, and tensed with trepidation. Had slavers found her? A quick glance around the nearly bare tent told her nothing. Her clothing was gone, but a simple kaftan replaced it, so she was not naked. She found several bandages on her body, and vaguely remembered someone dabbing ointments into her flesh as she tossed in fitful sleep. Now she was quite awake, and alarmed to find that not only was her clothing missing, but so were her swords.
Panicked, she rose on wobbly legs, intent on searching the tent top to bottom, knowing even before she did so that she would find nothing. Disappointed, all she could do was sit and await her fate.
She thought of Drake and Leo and pain pierced her to the core. At least she knew they had made it into the dinghy; she prayed now they had found safe haven on the shore. It seemed, however, that her fate was far less promising. She buried her face in her hands, weary beyond tears.
That was how her visitor found her, sitting cross-legged on the pile of furs with an aura of despair. Cailin looked up as the canvas lifted to admit a tall, striking older man with intense dark eyes and slightly silvered temples matching a neatly trimmed beard. At once she knew this was no ordinary slaver like Ichbar, and while part of her relaxed, the other was even more guarded. Judging by his ornate garb, gilt-embroidered tunic and trousers, he was well-to-do. Whether this fact boded either bad or good for her she had yet to know.