Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1)

by Sky Purington

  “I think his gods are eager to have him by their side,” she grumbled.

  “And he would be honored.”

  Megan frowned at Kjar as he joined them. “I’m surprised you’re not out there with them.”

  “My king will fight better knowing you’re safe.”

  “Ah, so he ordered you to protect me?”

  Kjar offered no answer. “The battling has already begun. It is time to go to the shore.”

  Though there was no activity that she could see, Megan knew better than to doubt him. Yet she wasn’t above trying to get more information as the three of them walked down the dock. “Those were some mighty intricate designs you carved into the hull. How did you accomplish so much in such a short amount of time?”

  “With help from my men,” Kjar grunted.

  Megan eyed the man. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was paler than normal. Setting aside her curiosity, she said, “You don’t look so well. Are you okay?”

  Offering no answer, his sharp eyes scanned both ways as they approached the shore. “Loki’s balls. They’re coming too soon. Far too many. Yrsa and her tricks,” Kjar growled. “Valan, go find Meyla. Now.”

  But the Scotsman was already gone.

  “How are they here so soon?” Megan said. “I thought…”

  Those were the last words out of her mouth before all hell broke loose. They’d just made it to the end of the dock when an explosion of warriors burst into the village in front of the fortress walls. Despite the chaos erupting, she was relieved to see the gates being shut. Naðr’s warriors fought insanely, cutting down all until they were securely closed.

  Then the battling was everywhere.

  Though adrenaline rushed through her veins and her instinct was to panic, she pushed fear aside. If she didn’t focus right now, it could mean certain death, even with hulking, vicious Kjar already downing several men before they could reach her. In fact, several men and a few women were taking up arms in a circle around her.

  Then it suddenly occurred to Megan.

  They were here for her.

  But how could King Rennir have so easily fooled Naðr and his brothers? Three dragons? Or at least tricked them enough that they were out there when a great deal of the enemy were here.

  The sharp, metallic scent of blood hit her nostrils as throats were slit open and guts were run through. Frustrated at being so helpless, she kept her dagger firmly in hand and spun slowly. An unsettling but much-appreciated numbness settled over her as death reigned down on more enemy bodies than she could count. Or at least she hoped they were…assumed they were.

  Then the worst happened.

  A man broke through the ranks. Big, ferocious and so not her friend, he shot her a tooth-rotten grin and eyed her dagger with mad glee. He knew she had no idea how to use it. Then, if that wasn’t enough, movement over his shoulder caught her attention. The gale-swept horizon now hosted not just her ship but several others.

  Enemy ships.

  But that’s not what made her go cold. No, what made breath nearly impossible was the way her ship, Naðr’s ship, their ship, not only had its sail raised but was turning back toward shore. Rolling uncontrollably in the waves, it listed precariously.

  Just like in her vision.

  Megan nearly cried out to Kjar but caught herself. The last thing he needed was a distraction. Meanwhile, the big guy in front of her drew closer. He’d sheathed his weapon so he was looking to take her alive. When he lunged, she dodged. But he spun fast and before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted.

  Survival instincts kicked in.

  Unlike the man that got ahold of her on the mountain, this one underestimated the few skills she had…and the weapon. Megan arched and drove her elbow back into his stomach. The second his grip loosened a fraction, she spun and kneed him in the balls. He lurched. She plunged the dagger into his side.

  When his arms went slack and he stumbled back, she stared into his stunned eyes, frozen.

  But a scream of rage soon pulled her free from her stupefied haze.

  Heidrek?

  Horrified, she saw what was happening further out on the dock. Raknar’s son had clearly enraged a warrior three times his size. Though he should have been running for his life, the boy wasn’t. Instead, he was standing his ground, glaring up at the monster with nothing but a small dagger and a barking Guardian trying her best to protect him. If that wasn’t enough, two more enemy warriors were making their way toward them.

  Absolutely not.

  Megan didn’t think about what she could or could not do, she acted.

  Dodging left then right, she shot past the ring of warriors around her. All the while she drew her bow and arrow as she ran. The dock was long so she ran until she was as close as possible then stopped, cocked and aimed. Remain calm. Figure in the wind shear.

  Release. Thwap.

  The first guy was down.

  Then she ran and pulled free another arrow, pacing the second guy before she stopped, cocked and shot again.

  Missed.

  But not by much.

  Megan raced a few dozen feet then stopped and cocked again. This time when she released, the arrow slammed into the guy’s upper back and he fell.

  In the meantime, things had gone from bad to worse further out on the dock. The enemy warrior in pursuit of Heidrek had not only slashed the boy, or so said the blood trailing down his arm but was tearing after a now retreating and very scared child.

  Bastard. She’d see this guy dead, so cocked another arrow as she ran. Still, things were going downhill fast. They’d nearly reached the end of the dock. Aiming an arrow at him with Heidrek just beyond wasn’t going to happen. She might have some skill but didn’t trust it that much. Thank any god handy when Guardian locked on tight to the warrior’s calf. Regrettably, the man was just close enough that he was able to snag the boy’s wrist.

  He yanked Heidrek back then kicked away Guardian. Fear turned swiftly to rage and the boy snarled. Suddenly, the man lost his footing and Heidrek was thrust into the raging sea. Horrified emotions suppressed, she got close and released an arrow into the enemy’s gut. He went down hard.

  Megan checked on Guardian. Her dog seemed good enough though upset as she barked down toward where Heidrek had gone over. Voice firm, she said, “No, wolfy girl. You stay here. I got this.”

  She tossed aside her bow and arrows, pulled off her boots then dove. All the while she prayed to any deity listening.

  The waves were rough, brutal, but she plowed down beneath the water and searched. Please, let me find you. Don’t you dare die. Though she wished she hadn’t, Megan wasn’t surprised when Guardian didn’t listen and splashed down into the water. This time, however, she couldn’t make sure her dog was safe but had to find the boy. He’d been through too much and didn’t deserve a death like this.

  Nobody deserved a death like this.

  So she fought the undercurrent and searched, searched then searched some more. Her lungs burned and the water was frigid but still she kept her eyes wide as she dug through the turbulent, maddened froth. Both sharp relief and fresh pain seized her heart when she found him a few feet under against a dock post.

  Heidrek was lifeless and unmoving.

  Megan snaked her arm around his waist and swam to the surface. Trained to save a drowning victim, she wrapped her arms under his armpits, pointed her fingers back at herself and held tight. Then, as an acting floating device, she kicked them to an area safely between both docks then toward shore. No easy task considering the huge waves.

  Guardian, still hanging in there despite her recent injury, swum alongside.

  Though tempted to speak to him, rouse him if possible, Megan knew her breath needed to be saved for the arduous distance of water that ran along the docks. Even as her heartbroken gaze landed on Naðr’s ship, she kept swimming. Even as tears burned her eyes, she kept swimming.

  It was doing everything it had in her vision…everything that would l
ead to what she found in the future almost eighty feet below the sea. Trying to turn toward the shore, the ship's sail was already tearing. Wind howled, thunder roared across the sky and lightning flashed.

  Naðr, you fool, what are you doing? You said you knew better.

  But only he knew and there was nothing she could do to help him or his brothers. All she could do now was try to save Raknar’s son. Then, just like in her vision, a particularly strong wind gust caught the ship at the same time as an overly large wave…

  And it rolled.

  Megan cried out and though it must have been the salt water stinging her eyes in combination with lightning flashes, she swore all the Nordic symbols Kjar carved along the ship’s hull glowed. White. Bright. There. Then faded.

  Hungry and desperate, the sea started to swallow their ship.

  “Noooo,” she wailed.

  Though she continued swimming, it almost seemed the same wave that’d taken down the ship rippled across the water unnaturally and caught her. She tried desperately to hold on tight, but Heidrek was ripped away by the current.

  Again and again she attempted to grab hold of him but couldn’t. The last thing she saw before water rushed into her mouth was Guardian locking onto the back of his tunic and swimming toward what she hoped was shore.

  Then another wave caught her and she rolled.

  Over and over.

  Blackness came and went.

  Chills came and went.

  Then there was silence. So much silence. Empty space. Endless. Too much of it. A gaping tunnel that went on and on. Or did it? Was she in some sort of Heaven or even Valhalla? Though under the impression she was supposed to live a lifetime, was she the first to fulfill the seers’ request?

  “Naðr?” she whispered.

  Because somebody had to be out there and she hoped it was him telling her everything was all right. Everyone was safe. Heidrek and Guardian had made it and so had his brothers and everyone else.

  “We’re right here, sweetie,” came a soft feminine voice. “We’re all with you and you’re just fine.”

  “Water, she needs water,” came another voice and her head was gently tilted forward.

  Grateful, Megan sipped, sighed, and then murmured, “Meyla, where’s your father?”

  More silence…then, “Dad’s not here right now, honey, but we are.”

  Confused by the terms ‘Dad’ and ‘honey’ but worried that Naðr wasn’t there she whispered, “I saw his ship go down. Did he make it? His brothers? Are they okay?”

  Again silence, which she would have worried over if darkness and exhaustion didn’t steal her away. The next thing she knew warmth and sunlight covered her. Megan pried open her eyes and smiled when the first thing she saw was Guardian cuddled up against her. With a sigh of relief, she ran her hands down her fur, thankful that they’d made it.

  Then her eyes drifted over Guardian.

  To Veronica.

  The feeling that rushed through her was indescribable as she jolted upright. Joy and exaltation were swiftly followed by fear and worry as she looked around. Veronica and Guardian had been laying on one side of her and Amber on the other. Both sat up abruptly when she did. So did Sean who had been sleeping in a chair in the corner of the room.

  “Christ,” she managed, emotions overflowing in tears. “I’m home.”

  “Hell yeah you are.” Sean sat on the end of the bed. He squeezed her ankle, voice deeper than normal. “Alive and well, thank God.”

  The next thing she knew her sisters had their arms wrapped around her, Guardian more than happy to bask in all the love.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, sis,” Amber whispered.

  “Don’t ever scare us like that again,” Veronica said sternly, grip just as tight.

  Megan held them for a good long minute before she mumbled fondly, “I can’t breathe. Need a little space.”

  Though Veronica pulled back, Amber clasped her cheeks, brown eyes full of anxiety. “You’ve been in the hospital, ICU even. You’re only home because Mema Angie pulled some strings.”

  Intensive Care Unit? Negative. “I wasn’t in the hospital. You wouldn’t believe where I was but definitely not there.”

  “Yes you were, for two days, but that’s beside the point. Now you’re here and just fine,” Veronica assured.

  “She’s right.” Amber flicked her wrist as if to wave away any extra concerns. “It’s all behind you now.”

  “Listen, are you hungry?” Sean intercepted. “Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. You name it, I’ll get it.”

  Their eyes met. His voice was strained. He was uncomfortable and that didn’t often happen to Sean. Though it was obvious they were on a beautiful campaign to assuage her fears, Megan shook her head and frowned at him. “Sean, what happened to me…at least from your end of things?”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she scrambled to the end of the bed, driving him back to a standing position. Megan stood but the room tilted and she plunked back down. Irritated, downright panicked, she glared up at him. “What happened to me?”

  Sean crouched in front of her and braced his hands on the bed. “Tell you what, why don’t you let your sisters help you crawl into fresh sweats while I cook up some food. Then we’ll curl up on the couch downstairs and catch you up?”

  Tempted to argue with him, Megan knew better. Sean had an unrelenting look in his eyes. So whatever had happened on their end had been intense. But what of her end…of Heidrek and Naðr and all that she’d left behind over a thousand years ago?

  Caught in a moment, downright frightened, she grasped at her back. “Where’s my pack?”

  “Downstairs and safe.” Concern flickered in Sean’s eyes. “Shower. Relax. It’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Did you open it?”

  “No.”

  She hitched her jaw, unsure. “Why?”

  “Because you asked us not to,” Veronica said softly.

  “I did?”

  “You did.” Sean helped her to her feet, making sure she was steady. “How do you feel now, sweetheart?”

  “Honestly? Sad.” She squeezed his supportive hands, thankful. “The dizziness is gone. I’m okay.”

  He cocked his head and peered at her. “You sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. What do want to eat?”

  “Coffee. Lots of it.”

  “Gonna eat the fresh grounds directly from the can?”

  “You bet.”

  “Done.”

  “You remind me of Kol, smart ass.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Sean handed her off to her waiting sisters.

  “You do?”

  But he gave no answer as he set out presumably to brew coffee. After that, everything was a blur made of warm sluicing water then cozy sweats before she found herself with a blissfully hot cup of coffee in hand. Though she looked for Aesa’s Valkyrie perched on her deck railing, it wasn’t there.

  So she grabbed the manuscript waiting patiently on her desk, right where she’d left it.

  A fire crackled on the hearth and a cold beer sat on the table beside her before they all settled down and made idle conversation. Not a fool, Megan knew what they were doing. Helping her ease into a reality that she wasn’t altogether sure was hers. But they seemed to understand that too.

  Thumbing her finger over and over Naðr’s name on page-number-whatever of the manuscript, she’d finally had enough. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

  Amber and Veronica glanced at one another.

  It seemed Veronica had been designated to speak first in what Megan didn’t doubt was a pre-planned conversation. “You, Nathan, and the divers never came up. We stayed out there until midnight but had to come in because of the storm.”

  Megan wasn’t the sort to speculate on whether everything she’d experienced was a dream. She knew it wasn’t. “Then?”

  “It was stipulated in Nathan’s will that all measures be taken to find his body in the case of his untimely death,”
Veronica said, the lawyer that she should be kicking in. “So when the storm abated, dive teams were sent out. Nothing was found.”

  “Nothing?” Megan said, her heart pounding a bit harder because she intended to hire her own team.

  “Nothing,” Veronica confirmed. “The ocean floor at our location and miles surrounding are clear of artifact, Viking or otherwise.”

  “You’re wrong,” Megan said.

  “I’m telling you what I was told,” she countered.

  Megan brushed it aside. Of course she was. Veronica had no reason to lie. She’d follow up with her own team later.

  “Are you all right, sis?” Amber murmured.

  “I’m fine,” Megan snapped and closed her eyes to the wounded look on her youngest sister’s face. With a deep inhale, she met Amber’s eyes and worked hard at a soft smile. “Just tense, sis. It’s been difficult.”

  “No prob,” Amber said easily but it was obvious this ordeal, whatever it’d been from their side, had put a lot of strain on her. Good thing Sean was a strong shoulder for her sister to lean on.

  “Tell me the rest,” Megan said, determined to stay stable, unwavering…determined to get the feel of losing Heidrek and watching Naðr’s ship go down out of her head.

  Veronica sat next to Megan and squeezed her hand while Sean continued.

  “It’s been almost seventy-two hours and no sign of Nathan,” Sean said. “They’ll keep searching but with the current water temperature it doesn’t look good.”

  Because he died at the top of a Scandinavian mountain.

  But she didn’t say that.

  “How did I survive then?”

  Megan didn’t miss the looks exchanged between them before Amber blurted out, “You washed up, nude, right in front of your house, sis. We found Guardian and the cylinder with you.”

  So there went the proof of Viking clothing.

  She shook her head. “Impossible, Guardian was dragging Heid—”

  “We know. Heidrek,” Veronica offered, eyes gentle as they met Megan’s. “You told us many times.”

  Megan’s eyes watered but before she could speak, Sean cut in. “You said a lot when you were in the hospital. Though in and out, you spoke of a whole other world. Ninth century Scandinavia to be exact. Naðr Véurr and his brothers Raknar and Kol.”