She felt sick. “He trusted us to take care of Jareth, and we’ve left him to deal with some malevolent magic on his own.”
“With your nixie by his side,” he reminded her.
What if her worst fears about the nixie were true? What if Iliana was in league with that malevolent force? Jareth could be dead or worse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jareth~
He couldn’t argue with the nixie while he was in dragon. He took human. She eyed him nervously. It was almost comical that this Amazon unflinchingly faced the specter of his nightmares, but a naked man discomposed her and tinted her cheeks pink.
“I will accompany you,” he told her. “It is my duty to see the demon to its end.”
For an instant the nixie did not look like a magnificent warrior woman, but like a flustered girl. Then her black eyes flashed and she smiled and shook her head. “I thank you, Dragon,” she said with exquisite politeness. “But this is no journey for you or any other mortal. I alone must take her to meet Hel.”
“She? Who is she?” he asked. He was desperate to know who had terrorized him all his life. Who had hated a child so vehemently?
The nixie tilted her head as if she listened to silent voices. “When she was alive this evil wight was Svetlana, the Countess Montenegro.” A shudder ran through that voluptuous body. “She is dead and has been for some time. All that remains of her are the cruel deeds of a long and depraved life.”
The sins of the countess were as familiar to him as his own name. She was the enemy of all Dragonry. “Will Hel contain such crimes as hers?” he asked.
Two years ago, the Countess Montenegro had been exposed as the dragon Vladimir the Enforcer who had reigned over the Ukrainian mob. She had targeted all Dragonry*, seeking to destroy the Guild of Dragons and initiate another era of Dragon piracy and crime. She had at last been vanquished and killed by Jareth’s cousin Lars with the assistance of his wife Nikki**.
Jareth knew the story of the countess’ death as all the Lindorms did, but had never once considered that the malice of Vladimir had been directed at him personally. Or that she was responsible for the death of his parents and only brother.
Now it seemed she was the source of a lifetime of torments. But he was still no wiser as to why. Did evil this great need a reason, or did spite provide sufficient motivation for a demon?
“Tell me your name?” he asked the Amazon. “And how you know mine.”
The nixie hesitated and then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I am Iliana. The nixie who guards Severn Island. The one your cousin Lexi warned you of. Heed her warning and return to Severn island. Make sure your people are safe.”
Despite the adrenaline still racing through his veins, he was amused to think of Theodor Lindorm requiring the aid of his timid little cousin. “You forget that they are dragons, Iliana. You need my help more.”
“Hel is not for the living,” she warned.
“Are you then dead?” he asked.
“No, but there is no need for us both to die.”
On the water the demon spun like a top. Iliana muttered words he did not understand. The countess’ convulsions stopped. “I must hurry,” Iliana said. “Or my binding spell may not hold. She is very powerful.”
“But she is dead!”
“Her wickedness remains intact. She was a potent necromancer when she lived, and her soul is bound to evil by many strong spells. Only the goddess Hel can deal with a demon as strong as this.”
He was tempted to leave Iliana to deal with the remains of the demon Vladimir. To seek his own safety by Theo’s fireside. But even he was not capable of such cowardice. “I will go with you, Iliana. You may yet need my help.”
Her lips quirked. “Will you go naked through the gales to the northland, Son of Lind?”
He had forgotten he was nude. “Can you wait while I go back to Severn Island to dress myself? Or shall I accompany you in dragon form?”
She thought. “You are beautiful, Son of Lind, as a man. But it would be more prudent if you were a dragon. If you permit it, I will ride on your back and we will tow this creature through the sea. Perhaps the waters of the great sea god Aegir will cleanse her foul spirit.”
Despite the freezing water he was treading water in, her eyes on his body were having a predictable effect. “I doubt water could wash away the sins of Vladimir the Enforcer. But I can hardly fly during the day when mortals may see me.”
She looked startled. Her chuckle was soft and warm and made his heart vibrate. “We will be invisible, Jareth. Transform yourself. We will begin by flying north.”
He took dragon. She stepped lightly onto his back as though she were as insubstantial as their prisoner. The hate and malice of the countess came up the invisible rope that Iliana held and became a third presence on their flight.
Iliana gave him directions as he headed north. He kept flying even when the water turned to solid ice and then to tundra. The bound spirit of the countess trailed behind them like some vile contrail. He did not know how long they flew, it could have been hours or days. Or weeks. They flew without halting for food or water, sleep or rest.
He was aware only of the powerful, feminine nixie who guided him, and the evil soul of the countess pursuing them with curses and demands to be released. Not demands. Even in defeat, the countess was trying to subvert him and persuade him to turn on his savior. She pleaded and promised him riches, power and women.
Jareth Lindorm might be a total coward, but he was not faithless. He would not betray Iliana for any reward this evil spirit could offer. He was not even tempted. The Countess Montenegro was in any event a known double-dealer, and the cause of his parents’ death.
The weary journey was a blur of misery compounded by the wight’s evil, hunger and thirst. He flew on, even though it felt as if he was flying through thick and heavy molasses that impeded every stroke of his wings.
He did not know if this was because he was invisible, or because of the evil they brought with them. He set himself to endure until his task was complete. Somehow he found the strength to continue past exhaustion. Steadily he flew toward their doom.
*Dragon’s Treasure, Dragon’s Successor, Dragon’s Pleasure
** Dragon’s Possession
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Severn Island
Two days later...
Theo~
Lexi put her hand on his shoulder. He covered it with his and kept gazing out his study window where the sunlight danced on the empty waves. Even the merry sound of Sofie babbling in her infant seat could not lighten his heart. “I will have to tell Uncle Thor and Aunt Inge today.”
“I think so,” she agreed. “They have been his parents. It would be bad enough to lose any of you, but Jareth is not just the Eldest’s sword bearer, they have reared him as a son. They must be informed he is missing.”
He sighed. “Yes. I haven’t given up hope, but they must be told.”
“I thought you feared nothing,” she teased.
“I am not afraid,” he said. “I just don’t like to have to tell the Eldest that one of us is missing, believed dead.”
“Hmm.”
Lexi did not repeat her slighting remarks about the nixie. As the hours had lengthened into days, she had kept her tongue firmly between her teeth. But he couldn’t help wondering if Iliana had knowingly led Jareth to his death.
He pulled out his cell and tapped the Eldest’s number. This news would break hearts a great deal tougher than Thorvald and Inge Lindorm’s. But it was his duty to be the bearer of bad news.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hel
Iliana~
“Here,” Iliana told Jareth, after who knew how many days. “Land here.” She was uncertain how she knew she had located the entrance to Hel, but she was positive they had found it. The dread that had been her constant companion on the journey intensified. But there was nothing to do but continue.
Her dragon swerved in the sky and brought
his hindquarters down. He folded his wings and awaited further instructions. He seemed somehow dazed by their long flight. No, dazed wasn’t the right word. But it was almost as if they had both been lost in their own thoughts for so long that they had lost track of night and day.
She restored them to visibility. The dead weight of the specter increased. Iliana was too weary to care. She had gone past fatigue. Now there was only willpower. She placed her free hand on Jareth’s muscular neck to guide him. She took comfort from the renewed contact.
After only a few minutes of wandering, she located the narrow fissure in the tundra that her spell had guided her to. An icy draft blew up. Her terror increased. Jareth’s neck stiffened under her hand, so he felt it too. Her hand tingled where she had touched him, strengthening her resolution.
The muttered enticements of the wraith became a blood-chilling shriek as the wind of Hel blew over her. Jareth turned his head and his mouth opened. He was thinking about blasting the wraith with flame. Iliana shook her head. His breath might be fiery, but it would have no further effect on this demon.
She assumed he was as nauseated as she by the wight’s constant bargaining. When she had bound the demon, it had not occurred to her that her prisoner would dare corrupt the dragon. The wretch had not succeeded, of course. Jareth Lindorm was too noble for the evil wraith’s obscene offers to coax him to betray his mission. But listening to the countess’ sultry enticements, hour after hour, had been another ordeal on a journey full of trials.
Iliana patted Jareth’s strong neck as if he were a dog. “You will have to enter as a man. I fear the hounds of Hel will not permit you to enter as a dragon, even if you would fit.”
He arched his throat in sinuous encouragement. She gave him a last pat, but this was no time to tarry. Their captive could yet escape her control. “Later,” she whispered.
During their journey, she had replaced her armor with a warm red parka and pants, and clad her bare feet in high-laced boots. Even though the air was freezing she was warm. Still the draft from Hel froze her marrow.
Jareth became a man. A naked and shivering man. She might never have an opportunity to see another. She assessed his lean, well-muscled body and his manhood approvingly before conjuring his clothing. She dressed him in the green jumpsuit and laced boots of his naval winter uniform, set his dark green beret at a jaunty angle. He looked handsome, but he was still turning blue.
She snapped her fingers again and furnished him with his down parka, as well as his fur-lined hat and heavy gloves. “Are you warm enough?” she asked anxiously.
“More or less. I thought Hel was hot.”
Iliana shrugged. “Apparently not. Come.” She grasped the invisible ropes that bound the demon in a more secure grip. Without warning, the countess’ uneasy spirit became a still heavier burden. But she would not be intimidated by this evil being.
“Help me,” she begged Jareth.
He set his hand beside hers and tugged. She could tell he too was astonished by the difficulty of towing this incorporeal evil. Muscles straining, they hauled her to the crack. Jareth’s touch comforted Iliana. She didn’t know if hers lightened his burden equally, but he winked at her encouragingly. Her spirits lifted.
“Let’s get this done,” he said as cheerfully as if they were not marching to their deaths. Thank goodness one of them possessed courage.
To enter the crack in the ground, they had to go in feet first and fall into the unknown darkness. She was frightened. However going into Hel was not as terrifying as the prospect of the demon escaping and dumping unceasing malice on Jareth for the rest of his life. She would die to save this dragon from that fate.
“I’ll go first,” he offered. “And catch you if necessary.”
Iliana slipped her free hand into his. He squeezed it comfortingly. “Can you make a light?” she asked.
He fumbled in his pocket. “I guess this doesn’t just feel like my coat, it is mine. Here’s my flashlight.” A narrow beam of light pierced the inkiness. She could see a long drop that ended in impenetrable blackness. He entered feet first, belly down. “Wait for my call.”
She held her breath until she heard his voice. “It’s dirty and there is loose gravel. But the slope is not too steep. Throw me down the rope before you enter.”
Iliana hadn’t thought of that. She must give their prisoner no opportunity to escape. She held the rope closer to the demon and let it dangle into the crevice. The oppressive presence of evil weighed even heavier on her heart. But she was not letting go of this rotten soul for an instant. She wiggled the freed end of the rope deeper into the crack.
She could see it, could Jareth? “Can you find it?”
After a long pause he called, “I have it.” He tugged. The demon howled like all the hounds of Hel had bitten her.
Iliana slipped inside the crack as Jareth had done. She shot down the slope, pebbles flying. She gained speed with every foot. Jareth’s strong hands caught her before she landed, stopping her before she crashed. His hands at her waist burned through her parka.
“Easy,” he said. “I have you.”
He cast his light around. Before them was a rough passageway cut through rock. It dipped down into utter blackness that swallowed the beam from Jareth’s light. There was no sign of any sentry, much less a Hel-hound.
The countess continued her wailing and moaning. But she no longer had seductive speech, just a wordless, whining lament. That jarring noise retained the power to set every nerve in Iliana’s body quivering.
Jareth took her hand again. She realized he could feel her trembling. “We can do this,” he said. “Ignore the demon. Can you tie us together, so we do not lose ourselves in the dark?”
His touch gave her courage. “Certainly.” She linked them with a magic cord around their waists so they could walk side by side or single file.
They set off, towing the apparition. The countess was a dead weight, awkward, resistant. But there was no alternative.
“Courage,” Jareth whispered against her ear. Either he had grown, or she had shrunk, for her ear was level with his mouth. Her hand turned and squeezed his again. He squeezed back and they went on together, dragging the disheartening, howling demon.
“Halt,” a rough voice barked.
Jareth moved his light around until they saw the dog. It was the size of a hyena, but with three heads. Drool fell from massive jaws furnished with long knives. The rock sizzled as the drool dripped onto it. A great crater had been carved out of the solid rock by its feet. Iliana shrank back against Jareth who held her with his free arm.
“We bring you the soul of the Countess Montenegro,” Jareth said to the hound.
The great beast bounded over to them. Iliana froze, expecting the snap of teeth. But the hound ignored her to sniff the bawling wight. Drool fell on the wraith and smoked. The banshee wails grew shriller. The hound stood aside and let them creep forward, dragging their increasingly heavy burden.
The place was oppressive. Every step harder than the last. It made the long flight seem easy by comparison. They walked forward through the endless tunnels, hand in hand, one step following another in endless succession. Her heart alternately squeezing to a halt and racing madly.
And then they went through the narrowest of the passageways and entered a vast glowing cavern. Jareth’s light went out. The air was thick with fumes, but the red glare dazzled their eyes. Iliana felt as if she was now composed entirely of fear.
An enormous woman in a lustrous white gown and headscarf sat on a three-legged stool as tall as Jareth. Her skirts were illuminated as if she rested over a fire. This must be the goddess herself. In one great hand, Hel held a drop spindle and in the other a nearly empty distaff. Both spun dizzyingly fast.
“Hail, Iliana,” the goddess said. “Hail, Jareth. What brings you to my dominion?”
Iliana had lost her tongue. She tried but no words formed in her dry mouth. Her eyes were riveted on the great basket of squirming, dark stuff by the g
oddess’ luminous skirts. Hel reached down and grabbed an enormous handful. She added it to her distaff.
Jareth squeezed Iliana’s cold hand in his warm one, steadying her. “We bring you the soul of the Countess Montenegro, great Goddess, so that you may deal with her,” he said.
The goddess Hel nodded regally. As they stared in wonder, she grew even taller. “Hel is the right place for that wicked woman,” she said. Her spindle whirled faster. The distaff emptied. She removed a skein of white thread from the spindle and set it aside with others.
Then one vast hand reached down for the trailing edge of the shadowy, keening wraith. Hel deftly attached it to her now empty distaff and rotated it until the wraith was wound around it. She set her spindle twirling. The wight’s clamorous moans instantly stopped. Iliana’s blood warmed and moved in her veins again.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jareth~
Now that he stood before Hel, his fear seemed unimportant. This was probably a good thing, because Iliana was as cold as ice. She was incapable of speech and if her trembling was indicative, her throat was immobilized by dread.
He held her hand more tightly. It was a relief that as the countess’ soul revolved silently on the goddess’ distaff, Iliana’s fingers warmed in his. The wight was spun off onto the spindle as mottled dark gray and black thread, wholly unlike the white thread Hel had spun before.
Iliana turned her face to Jareth’s. She shuddered all over. He squeezed her hand again and smiled as reassuringly as he could. But their fates were in the goddess’ implacable hands. It was too late to regret their decision to bring the countess to Hel. They had accepted their destiny and now must face it.
He pointed with his chin to an enormous basket the size of an Olympic swimming pool by the goddess’ immaculate skirts. Souls were piled up like so much dirty cotton wool. At least he thought those writhing clumps were souls. None were as black as the countess’.
The goddess smiled savagely. “There lie the evildoers who await my judgment,” she informed them. Her voice was as deep as Hel itself. Her distaff revolved once more and was empty. Hel set it down and removed the countess’ soul from her spindle.
Dragon Ensnared: A Viking Dragon Fairy Tale (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 7) Page 5