Rise of a Viking (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors' Kin Book 1)

by Sky Purington

  “What is it?” Heidrek asked.

  “As Aella and Kjar suspected, trouble.” Naðr’s eyes went to Heidrek’s. “Our scouts report ships coming from the north accompanied by dragons.”

  “How many dragons?”

  “At least two,” Naðr said. “I warned those at the dragon lair then broke off all telepathic contact until we better understand what this enemy is capable of.”

  Heidrek nodded, and they followed everyone outside.

  “I will see Cybil taken care of then meet you at the docks, Uncle,” Heidrek said.

  Naðr nodded, and he and Megan strode ahead.

  Cybil frowned as Heidrek pulled her after him. “You better not be tucking me away somewhere you think I’ll be safe.”

  “No.” He led her into the armory. “You are my warrior goddess and will fight alongside me if you so wish.”

  Her heart soared. “Oh, I wish.” She eyed the endless weapons with anticipation.

  He ripped a strip from his tunic then started doing the last thing she expected.

  Braiding her hair.

  He moved swiftly, creating several braids that became one, his words soft. “It is always best to keep your face free of hair when battling. Nothing should distract you.”

  She typically tied her hair back when fighting at home so it made sense. “Thanks.”

  Heidrek nodded and finished braiding her hair in under a minute, tying it off with the scrap of tunic. “For now, you will fight with what you know how to use.”

  He grabbed a small belt holster, crouched and strapped it to her upper thigh before sliding a small dagger into it. Then he wrapped a belt around her waist and tucked several larger daggers in its various pockets alongside Erin’s.

  When satisfied, his eyes met hers. “I know you are well-trained in combat but remember now that you fight with weapons strapped to your body. Plan your moves accordingly.”

  “You got it.” She grinned and became familiar with the feel of them as he started to strap on not only various daggers but a double-edged ax, mace and Thor’s sword. By the time he was finished, his expression was sterner than ever.

  Only because of their connection did she know that deep worry churned in his soul not only for her but his family. Yet when he gripped her shoulders lightly, she faced a man who had long ago learned to set aside worry to accomplish his goals. And now was no different. Voice level, he searched her eyes. “Are you ready, Cybil?”

  “I am,” she confirmed.

  Heidrek looked at her for another moment before he squeezed her shoulders and nodded. “Then fight well, warrior.” Though she knew he struggled to say it, he continued. “And if it is time for you to meet your gods, feast well in their halls and celebrate the courage you showed in life.”

  “The same to you,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “Valhalla would be blessed to welcome you, Heidrek.”

  Their eyes held again before he embraced her, kissed the top of her head then pulled away. “Time to go.”

  “I need to check on Samantha then I’ll meet you down there,” she said as they headed outside.

  Heidrek nodded. “She is in the main lodge with Vigdis.”

  “The crazy seer?” She frowned. “Is that really such a good idea?”

  “I have ordered Vigdis to protect Samantha with her life,” Heidrek said. “And nobody values their own life more than Vigdis, so your sister will be safe.”

  “But didn’t it almost seem like Vigdis was in league with the enemy before? When we were on the mountain?” Cybil shook her head. “What was that all about anyway?”

  “Vigdis is not in league with the enemy,” he assured. “She is but an odd creature that prefers to be shrouded in mystery. And she could not affiliate with evil without Aella knowing.”

  “You’re sure?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Heidrek cupped her cheeks and met her eyes. “Samantha is safe with Vigdis. I promise you that. Your kin are mine now. I will see no harm come to them.”

  “Okay,” she whispered before he brushed his lips over hers then left her at the entrance of the main lodge.

  Samantha paced restlessly inside and headed her way the moment Cybil entered, eyes wide. “What’s going on, Sis?” She pointed a thumb over her finger at Vigdis, who leaned casually against a support beam. “I can’t believe I’ve been left with that one. I can’t figure out if she’s into women or debating a way to roast me over the fire. Option number one doesn’t bother me. Option number two is totally freaking me out.”

  Having experienced the same, Cybil didn’t blame her. “She’s fine, Sam. Just ignore her. She won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  Samantha sighed, crossed her arms over her chest, tapped a foot impatiently and blew an errant curl out of her eyes. “I’m gonna have to trust you.” She eyed Cybil’s weapons then the doorway. “Please don’t tell me you’re leaving me here with her.”

  “I have no choice,” Cybil said. “You have to stay here until this is over.”

  “Until what is over?” Sam scowled. “Nobody’ll tell me a thing, and I’m not good at being kept in the dark.”

  Cybil almost explained what was happening but stopped. If the Viking King had wanted Samantha to know, he would have told her. That meant he had his reasons not to. Ones she knew without hesitation were in her sister’s best interest.

  “I’m sorry, Sis, I can’t tell you.” Cybil wrapped her arms around Samantha, ignoring that the gesture wasn’t reciprocated. “You need to stay here. It’s for your own good.”

  “That’s such crap,” Sam muttered, still stiff. “My own good is being where you are, Cyb. Nobody’d have your back like I would.”

  “Be logical. You don’t even know how to fight,” Cybil said, not releasing her. “And that’s the fastest way to get those around you killed.”

  “Killed…” Sam whispered before her arms flew about Cybil and she squeezed tight. “You better not get killed, or I swear…”

  “I won’t so long as I know you’re safe,” she murmured, stroking Sam’s thick curls like she did when they were kids. “You have my word.” Before her sister could respond, Cybil held her at arm’s length and met her eyes. “And you know I’m good on my word.”

  “You always have been.” Sam nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek. “That better not change.”

  “It won’t.” Cybil wiped away the tear. “I’ve got to go. You’ll stay put, right?”

  “Yeah, I’ll stay put,” Sam mumbled.

  Cybil nodded, hugged her one more time, shot Vigdis a look that said there would be hell to pay if anything happened to Samantha, then left. She wiped away a tear of her own and prayed her sister would remain safe.

  By the time she made it to the docks, dark clouds rolled across the sky, wind gusted and thunder rumbled in the distance. Heidrek was amongst his men, making sure all defenses were ready. His eyes glowed blue as he summoned the incoming weather with Thor’s sword.

  The more turbulence in the sky, the better.

  She had no sooner reached the beginning of one long dock when Svala fell in step beside her, disgust on her face as she eyed Cybil. “Are you happy now, foreigner? Now that you have brought such wrath to our door?”

  “Enough already. You might not like what I have to say, but it needs saying.” Cybil squared off with the woman. “It’s time to grow up, Sweetheart. That means learning the difference between your enemies and allies.”

  When Svala went to hit her, Cybil grabbed the front of her shirt, yanked her so close they were nose to nose and allowed her power to surface.

  Svala’s eyes narrowed then widened before she went perfectly still and Cybil continued. “I cannot change the things that have happened as a result of my arrival but know this. I will fight until my dying breath not only for Heidrek but everyone he cares about including you.” Cybil made sure her inner dragon was evident. “Everything inside me, the power of my dragon and my gods, will help me fight for you and yours, do you understand?”

&nbs
p; Whatever Svala saw in Cybil’s steady gaze made her back down. Even so, there was a flash of defiance in her eyes as she said, “Yes, I understand.”

  “Then fight well.” Cybil released her and strode down the dock, throwing over her shoulder. “And may Odin welcome you into Valhalla if it’s your time.”

  After that, she didn’t see much of Svala but spent her time helping any way she could. Due to the weather, no ships would go out. They would fight from shore.

  Catapults were loaded with heavy balls wrapped with hay. Arrows were notched. More measures than she could count were being taken by a people who for generations had learned to live and fight seaside.

  Heidrek urged her to join him when the first of many enemy ships appeared on the horizon. White sails struggled against high winds on a violent sea. Smoky clouds billowed so low that lightning crackled off of foamy wave crests.

  “It almost seems like a suicide mission on their part,” she said.

  Heidrek nodded at her assessment as he handed her a shield. “That is exactly what it is. An attempt to keep us focused on the ships and not the dragons.”

  She scanned the horizon again. “Where are they?”

  “Coming,” he whispered, his eyes glowing as brightly as his tattoo.

  Seconds later, the tattoo on her collarbone started to warm. Her dragon was responding to something. Perhaps his dragon…or maybe another. She clenched her jaw and pushed fear down before it could surface. This was no time for weakness. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. Especially Heidrek.

  The ships edged closer and closer. One listed precariously on the high waves before it rolled. Roars of approval rose up around her as men watched the boat sink.

  Within minutes, the ships were close enough for the battling to begin. The straw balls were lit and launched followed by hundreds of burning arrows. Miraculously, or likely because of magic, the heavy rain that started falling didn’t douse them.

  Cries of pain rent the air, a spooky addition to the cracks of thunder. Ship masts snapped and burned as men leapt overboard. The smell of burning flesh drifted on the wind as frigid rain fell in heavy sheets without affecting the fires in the least. Some ships turned back, while others plowed on.

  “Be ready, battling afoot happens soon,” Heidrek said. “But always keep an eye to the sky.”

  He no sooner said it when several ships made it to the ends of docks and men started pouring off. Then Heidrek was gone, roaring with rage as he flew into the thick of it. Cybil inhaled deeply several times, found focus, and flew after him.

  Like before, she soon entered that faraway place. One made of revenge and rage and warfare. A dance that felt so natural. A dance that was a part of her soul. A place that she was able to manifest her need to protect. Merging what she had learned back home with the weapons at her disposal, she fell into an easy yet exciting rhythm of fighting.

  Slice. Duck. Stab. Spin. Punch.

  Blood spilled, but it wasn’t hers.

  When her tattoo started burning, her eyes shot to the sky.

  The dragons were coming.

  “Ah, there you are, Celt,” came an all-too-familiar voice. “I did not like how we ended things before. And now there must be suffering.”

  Cybil didn’t respond as her eyes connected with Heidrek’s. He knew. He had heard. And he was making his way in her direction.

  Within moments two dragons swooped down. One was dirt brown and the other, the enemy dragon. Svala and Tait shifted, launched into the air and went after the brown one. Meanwhile, the large black dragon roared and rained down fire on the dock.

  When Heidrek turned and aimed Thor’s sword in the air at the same time as Kjar thrust out his arms, everything slowed down. Warriors froze. Fire fizzled into pockets of smoke.

  Yet dragon-shifters and demi-gods moved freely.

  While Tait and Svala tag-teamed the brown dragon, Cybil fell in beside Heidrek, Kjar, Naðr, Bjorn and Matthew as the other dragon landed and unbelievably enough, shifted to a man. With hair as black as night and blood red eyes, he was not what she expected.

  Some might call him too handsome.

  Others might find his allurement impossible to look away from.

  Her? She found him absolutely repulsive.

  But then she felt his soul. Barren and without depth.

  And he needed something to fill that gap.

  Better yet, he needed someone. Who that was had yet to be revealed. At first, it seemed it might be her, then Heidrek. Yet she suspected he now knew that wasn’t going to happen.

  The enemy stopped, braced his legs as though balancing himself on a teetering ship, and crossed his arms over his chest. Despite the amount of power he faced, he appraised them all as though they were but a fly he could step on.

  Heidrek pointed Thor’s sword at him, his stance unwavering and his eyes narrowed. “We will end this here and now, you and I.”

  The man’s eyebrow rose, and his lips curled. “That is where you are wrong, Dragon Seer. Now that you have decided not to stand by my side, this is where it all begins.”

  When the Viking King gestured at Heidrek, he lowered his sword. Naðr put up a hand that told his kin to remain where they were and strode forward until he stood within feet of the man. He eyed him over, not impressed, before he spoke. “If you mean to begin something, let it be with me not my kin. Let us end an age-old rivalry here and now.”

  “Old, much like you,” the man murmured, assessing Naðr with an equally less-than-impressed look. “Step aside, husk, and leave the battling to warriors with far more stamina than the likes of you.”

  Cybil tensed, furious, ready to castrate the stranger, but Heidrek stopped her with one sharp, mental word. “No.”

  An eerie calm settled into Naðr’s eyes. The enemy was trying to disarm him with words, but the Viking King was long past being taken in by such tactics. “Again I say, let us, you and me, end this here and now. What have you got to lose? If I win, you will not know it. If you win,” he gestured behind him, “You gain all of this.”

  The enemy kept that same smirk on his face as his eyes covered everything then returned to Naðr. “A tempting offer.” He shrugged and yawned. “But it seems too easy, does it not? You are an old dragon, and I am young with the power of the gods at my disposal. What fun is there in that?” He sniffed in derision. “Too easy in my opinion.”

  Naðr was about to respond, but the man cut him off.

  “Unless perhaps I pulled forth the proper amount of rage from you.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Do you think that is possible, infamous king?”

  Heidrek tensed as well as the others. Something was stirring their dragon blood, and it was very bad.

  “Let us waste no more time on words,” Naðr growled and pulled his sword free. “Fight me.”

  “Fight you, then?” The man snickered then started to pick at something in his teeth. “Maybe after I digest and get this troublesome bit of leftovers out of my mouth.”

  Cybil’s heart sank, and her blood ran cold.

  “Ah, there it is,” the man exclaimed with a wide smile as he pulled something out and tossed it Naðr’s way. The King caught it. Unclenching his fist, his eyes dropped to the tiny bit of twisted metal. A pendant of some sort.

  “I must say,” the man said softly as Naðr continued to stare at the warped jewelry. “You had an especially delicious daughter in Meyla. All that warrior blood—”

  Those were the last words he got out before Naðr completely lost his cool and all hell broke loose. Naðr and the enemy shifted to dragons and lunged at each other before launching into the air while attacking.

  She had never seen anything like it.

  Thunder might roar, lightning might strike, and rain might drive, but the power of the weather couldn’t touch the two black dragons rising into the sky.

  “Father!” Bjorn roared but only struggled and stumbled as he tried to shift, but couldn’t. His skin sheened and unsheened like it had before. The same thing happened to Mat
thew.

  Meanwhile, the brown dragon proved to be an admirable opponent to Tait and Svala so they were no help. Kjar tried everything he could as did Aella, but nothing worked.

  The enemy’s strength was too great.

  And Aella no longer had the added power of Mt. Galdhøpiggen at her back.

  Time sped up and returned to normal as Heidrek raced down the dock, watching Naðr and the other dragon battle in the sky. They slashed and clawed and tumbled before regaining altitude. It was a fight unlike any other. Untouchable in its wrath and intensity. Yet one thing soon became blatantly clear.

  The Viking King was losing.

  Cybil raced after Heidrek and grabbed his hand when she reached the end of the dock. His eyes, tattoo, and even Thor’s sword glowed, but they both knew nothing could help Naðr now.

  He was on his own.

  “No,” Heidrek roared as the enemy slashed time and time again at Naðr. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Megan wail.

  Heidrek shook with fury, and his sword flashed brightly, causing tiny sparks of what felt like static electricity to wash over them both. Ignoring the unusual sensation, Cybil kept her eyes on him. She’d never seen him like this. Whatever was happening inside him made her gut squeeze in sharp pain and her chest tighten sharply.

  Then she knew what it was.

  The vision she had when she first arrived was about to happen. He was going to be ripped away from her.

  Seconds later, the enemy tore into the side of Naðr’s neck, and the king cried out in pain.

  What was left of Heidrek vanished as he roared again in red hot rage. White light flashed, and his hand ripped from hers. She caught the hilt of Thor’s sword seconds before a massive talon slammed down beside her and an immense silvery gold dragon launched into the air.

  Awed, tears came to her eyes as she watched it fly in Naðr’s direction.

  Heidrek’s dragon had broken free.

  And he was glorious.

  She had little time to admire him as reality came crashing down and awe was replaced with fear not only for the Viking King but for Heidrek. Though he seemed well in control of his facilities, he knew nothing of being an actual dragon…of flying and fighting in the air.