Dragon Ensnared: A Viking Dragon Fairy Tale (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 7)

by Isadora Montrose

  It was Jareth’s turn to shudder. “May we leave this place, madam?” he asked courteously.

  “I welcome only the dead,” the goddess replied obscurely. “But you still have one more task to perform before you go back above, Son of Lind.”

  His heart sank, but he bowed. “I will do my best, Goddess.”

  She handed him the thread she had spun. “Svetlana, Countess of Montenegro, is too evil even for my spindle to purify. She must join the assassins and double-dealers in the pit.”

  The thread was light as air. And he could no longer feel the familiar taint of the specter’s spiteful malevolence. Despite the terrifying presence of the goddess, his heart lightened. “Where is the pit, madam?”

  The goddess twitched her glowing skirts aside. There at her feet was a vast rift in the earth. Jareth could see a bright red glow, as if he peered into a living volcano. Here was the source of the fumes in this cavern. He grasped the thread tightly, half expecting the countess to resume her attempts to seduce him.

  “Drop her in, Jareth, to join her son, Vadim of Montenegro*. It is fitting that you should see to her end who so long has pursued you.”

  He let go of the thread. It vanished into the hot glare, unmarked by even a flash. The pit consumed her entirely. Snuffed her out in an instant. Not a lot of payback after a long life filled with iniquity of every sort.

  “Do not believe,” said Hel calmly, “That her punishment is now over. For you, Son of Lind, ‘twas but an instant, but for her ‘twas only the first instant of an unchanging eternity.”

  Jareth shivered at the goddess’ words. This was vengeance indeed. The long years of terror by day and by night had left a mark on his spirit, but it seemed to him that the ever-present heaviness was now entirely lifted. Even though he did not know what his fate would be, he faced it with a new calmness.

  The goddess had said this was no place for the living. This could mean that they would be allowed to leave, or more likely that they would join the dead in their endless twilight. He hoped that he and Iliana would be allowed to remain together.

  Hel plucked more of the woolly stuff from her vast basket and placed it on her raised distaff. She set her spindle twirling once more, like a countrywoman whose work is never finished. She turned her attention to Iliana, who trembled beneath the goddess’ bright gaze.

  “I had expected you long before this, Nixie,” Hel remarked casually.

  “Am I then dead?” Iliana’s voice shook.

  “You are soulless, Iliana. But not yet dead. Have you never wondered where your soul went when Rán made you a nixie?”

  “Often, Goddess. And longed for it. Is it yet to be found?” Jareth strained to hear Iliana’s murmured words.

  “I have it here. In this casket,” said Hel. Her spindle disappeared and on her huge palm lay a small white box. “Come, child, take it. It won’t bite.”

  Iliana took it with both hands. She bowed. “I thank you, Goddess,” she said. “May I have a further boon?”

  “Another?” Grimness rode on Hel’s stern face and her voice echoed with anger.

  “Yes, if you please.” Iliana’s voice and body wobbled like a pebble teetering on the edge of a cliff, but she continued. “Does my sister Myst dwell here?”

  Hel smiled. Her anger melted. “Myst is yet among the living. She remains where Rán cast her.”

  “Do you know where that might be, great Goddess?” Iliana asked softly. Her hope was a living thing between them. Jareth gripped her hand more tightly.

  “She lies where the volcanoes grow from the North Sea,” Hel said. She waved an imperious hand. “It is now time for you both to leave. Hel’s domain is no place for the living.” Her words were both permission to leave, and a warning.

  They bowed deeply. Iliana thanked the goddess in a voice thick with tears. They backed toward the tunnel they had entered by, afraid to show the smallest disrespect to a being so powerful. Hel’s deep command easily found their ears.

  “Do not open your box, Nixie, until you are assured of this dragon’s love.”

  Iliana tucked her little casket into her pocket and fastened the toggle. Jareth gripped her hand when she was done, even though they were still bound by their magic cord. The nixie sobbed once or twice and her fingers repeatedly checked the catch on her pocket.

  He supposed a soul was an important thing. He wanted to ask why nixies didn’t have them, but despite the goddess’ gift, Iliana’s grief was evident. He could wait until she was less distraught. Right now job one was to get them both back to the surface alive.

  The way back was uphill, but it seemed to take much less time to return. Time had no meaning down here, but it did not seem long before they saw the glimmer of light that indicated the opening onto the tundra.

  The Cerberus was asleep, paws tucked up as if he were a giant loaf of bread. All three great heads rested on the ground. Six red eyes opened and shut again as Jareth and Iliana went past. Apparently the job of this hound of Hel was to repel intruders, not to keep them inside. Interesting.

  They were permitted to climb out unmolested into a world in which the sun hovered on the horizon, although this far north Jareth could not tell if it was in the west or the east. Was it dawn or dusk, or something in between? How long had they been on this journey? How long had they spent in Hel? It scarcely mattered. They were both alive!

  Jareth picked Iliana up by the waist and spun her in a circle. “We did it!” He kissed her for the first time.

  *Dragon’s Successor

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Iliana~

  Her first kiss and there was too much going on for her to enjoy it. Jareth was excitedly spinning her. Her already chaotic thoughts went swooping off in all directions, like birds frightened by thrown stones. Her worries about finding Myst, her fear that she still had not done anything that would make a mortal love her, that she would end her days as a slimy fish in an icy brook. Everything scattered under the onslaught of Jareth’s hungry mouth.

  He pressed kisses all over her face before darting back to her mouth. He tasted her lips and the corners of her mouth. His big hands set her down and held her until the world stopped spinning. Unfortunately her thoughts continued to revolve.

  “We’re alive,” he cried.

  “Yes.” She swallowed hard. His face was alight with passion. Did he want to rut here, in the snow, at the mouth of Hel?

  He pulled her hard against his body and his mouth descended again. This time he slipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth and sent it up in front of her teeth. She tingled from head to toe. His eyes were closed and he looked happy. She liked what he was doing, but what was she supposed to do?

  She opened her mouth wider, hoping to please him. He pulled away and looked puzzled. He stroked her hair. “Iliana, have you ever been kissed before?”

  “Of course not.” Fish didn’t kiss. Even otters didn’t kiss.

  “Ah.” He tugged at her curls. “Are you a virgin in other ways too?”

  “Certainly. I know that is important to you dragons.” She peered anxiously up at him. Was he in love with her yet?

  His head was now a full hand-span higher than hers. Clearly she must be shrinking or he must be growing. Had the demon placed a spell on them after all? Or, despite her apparent kindness, had Hel punished their invasion of her realm?

  “Hmm.” Jareth kissed her mouth again, lightly, teasingly. He sighed. Straightened up. “I don’t know if it is day or night. I’m a little disoriented.”

  “We came from the south,” she said and pointed.

  Jareth looked doubtful. “This far north, everything is south. And I don’t recognize any landmarks. It’s as if we came out in a different place than we went in.” He fumbled one of his pockets open and produced a small flat metal object.

  “What’s that?” She peeped over his shoulder.

  “A compass.” He looked at it while he turned in circles, before laughing. He stuck it back in his pocket. “It points south in all d
irections. The sun is no help this far north. We’ll have to navigate by luck. Can you feed us? I don’t know how long this trip has taken, but I’m starving.”

  Iliana looked around. Lumpy snow spread to the horizon. If there were animals living here, she did not know how to catch them. And if there were edible plants, as she supposed there must be, they were buried deep under the snow. She thought the open sea where she could hunt was many hours away.

  “I can’t get food here,” she apologized.

  “No?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” She hoped that old saying that the way to a man’s heart lay through his stomach wasn’t actually true.

  And then she remembered watching Jareth eat that enormous breakfast. Plateful after plateful. His heart probably connected directly to his stomach. And she had nothing to feed him. Her heart sank to her toes.

  “Can’t you conjure some, as you conjured my clothing?”

  She tried to explain. “That was different. Nixies can’t obtain food by magic.” Now that he mentioned it, her own stomach was growling. And she was thirstier than she had ever been.

  He rummaged in another of his many pockets and handed her a shiny blue and green package the length of her hand and three fingers wide. It was heavy for its size. “Thank you,” she said doubtfully. “What is it?”

  He tore the shiny covering on his and peeled it back. “Energy bar. Go on. It isn’t the world’s most wonderful meal, but it’s better than nothing.”

  It was delicious. Sweet, salty, crunchy. Infinitely better than weeds. Much better than raw fish. She told him so.

  “You eat weeds and fish?” he asked shocked.

  Her heart sank, but she nodded. What did he imagine fish ate and drank? “Yes. And drink the water the fish swim in.” She made a face.

  “Snow will be better,” he said.

  He produced a little round box from another pocket and stretched it up into a cup. He packed it with the cleanest, most undisturbed snow he could find. He fiddled with the bottom and the snow began to melt. When it was entirely liquid he passed it to her.

  “Be careful. The bottom is hot,” he said. “But the water will still be cool.”

  It was. She drank half greedily before handing it back to him.

  He gave the beaker back to her. “Drink it all. You haven’t had water in days.”

  “What about you?”

  “The burner will melt six cupfuls. We’ll take turns. Drink up.”

  She was still thirsty. She drained the rest gratefully. She watched carefully while he repeated the process for himself. “Is that cup magic?” she whispered as the snow melted without any fire.

  “What?” He chuckled. “There’s a tiny chemical heater inside.”

  “Chem-i-cal,” she tried the word. “Like alchemical?” she wondered aloud. That was mortal magic, wasn’t it?

  “Nope. Not alchemy. More like when you add water to quicklime and it boils. Basic chemistry.”

  She nodded. She had seen sailors mix quicklime to make whitewash to paint houses, rocks, and trees white. The process had always seemed rather magical to her. “Chem-i-cal,” she repeated under her breath. “Chem-mist-ry.”

  Jareth drank his first cup of water in one swallow. “Tastes of lichens,” he said.

  “Then lichens are tastier than pond scum.”

  His blue eyes widened. “Good to know.” He began to pack more snow into the cup. “So are you going to tell me about your sister? And why you don’t have a soul?”

  She patted her pocket. “I have one now.” It was the best feeling in the world. Soon she would have a soul again.

  His lips twitched. He handed her the cup of melt water. “Have another drink.”

  She was able to sip this one with more dignity. “Myst and I were sisters. Born in the same hour, sharing the same cradle. Rán took us to serve her. I don’t know why she removed our souls when she turned us into nixies. But none of the others had souls either.”

  “Others?” He took her empty cup and filled it again.

  “Rán has many servants,” she explained. “When one would visit Myst and me, bearing the goddess’ instructions, we would talk. Occasionally one claimed that Rán had promised them their souls back if they performed some perilous task. But of course if they succeeded and were rewarded, they would no longer be nixies and would never return.”

  “You and Myst used to live together?” His blue eyes squinted in puzzlement.

  “Rán assigned us to guard the treasures of those killed in battle at sea.” She sighed remembering. “Myst and I combed each other’s hair and read the books left in our care.” And ate and slept together, sharing everything.

  “Books?” He interrupted her reverie.

  “Mortals have many treasures that they take to sea,” she reminded him. “Armor, swords, daggers, shields and other weaponry. But also locks of their sweethearts’ hair, rings and armbands, and books. We had no use for weapons or jewels, but Myst and I learned many things from those precious books.”

  “Such as?” He drank and repacked the cup with snow.

  “The ways of the gods, the stories of heroes who slew monsters, how the stars move and why. That the earth is a ball.” Would he be impressed with her learning? Some men preferred women to be ignorant. He still did not look as though he was falling in love with her.

  Although he had kissed her, he now looked grim. His exuberance gone. “Here, drink this. After I have mine, we’ll set off for home.”

  She took the cup with murmured thanks. “I have no home.”

  “Isn’t Severn Island your home?”

  “It is where I exist.” She patted her pocket. The box’s square corners reassured her. She would have a home. Soon. Very soon. As soon as he loved her.

  “Huh. So what happened to Myst?”

  “We were weary of living in the ocean guarding treasures seldom wanted. We longed for adventures and pleasures such as we read about in the books of men.” She drained the cup and gave it back.

  “And then one day the goddess did not send messengers but came herself.” Iliana shuddered recalling the bright and terrible splendor of Rán. Her voice faltered and failed altogether.

  Jareth nodded. “Go on, Iliana.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jareth~

  Jareth nodded encouragingly to the silent nixie. “Please, continue.”

  Iliana’s lips were two thin gray lines. Her eyes two black voids in her ashen face. “Myst and I greeted the goddess with all respect. But after Rán had instructed us, Myst begged to be released from her service. She reminded Rán that we had attended to our duties as good and faithful servants through many long ages of men.”

  Iliana’s pallid face lost even more color. She swallowed convulsively. “Then the goddess appeared to us swollen with wrath. She called Myst ungrateful, traitorous, and an oath breaker. Had she not given us immortality and endless youth and beauty in return for obedience and fealty? For her offense, Rán placed Myst in a cask and sealed her up. I have not seen her since.”

  “Could you not open the cask?” he asked.

  “Oh, did I not say? Rán ordered the cask to the vast deeps. It vanished on the instant. Rán left me to guard the treasures of the dead in dreary solitude.”

  “Yet you are now wandering quite freely. What changed?”

  Jareth packed up his cup and compass, even though he did not know if Iliana would be able to return it to his closet. It hardly mattered. All his clothing seemed to have shrunk, even his boots pinched his toes and rubbed the heels. His jumpsuit was tight everywhere and his parka about to split across the shoulders.

  “I continued my duties,” she said sadly. “Occasionally another nixie would bring more treasures or take something. But they no longer dared to converse with the sister of the rebellious Myst. And so things continued for centuries, until one day the sea floor yawned like a great glowing mouth.”

  It was obviously a horrifying memory, for her voice stuttered, and her whole body tremb
led. “M-m-molten r-r-rock poured out, unquenched by the sea. It threatened to engulf the t-t-treasures of the d-d-dead.”

  “What happened then?” he whispered.

  “I tried to save what I could from Aegir. Rán was angry because I chose to save the books and let her husband swallow the weapons and love tokens. Yet how could one nixie withstand the wrath of mighty Aegir if Rán could not? Rán dismissed me from her service as a faithless slave, and an oath breaker. She cast me out without home or friends.” Iliana ended her story on a sob.

  “And you came to Severn Island?”

  “After much wandering. In those days, it was uninhabited. That is, no men or dragons lived there. Just the Princess Alexandra. She took me into her service, and permitted me to live in her stream.”

  “But you are not friends?”

  “Elves do not befriend the soulless,” Iliana said bitterly. “I am her vassal.”

  “I see.” Actually he didn’t. “When she married Theo, she did not take you into her home?”

  “She did.” Iliana sighed. “But I made a terrible mistake.” She wrung her hands. “When Sofie was born, I begged for her. I thought that the Lord Theodor would be angry that his firstborn was a daughter, and that the princess would be happy to be rid of her baby. But she wasn’t. Lexi called me names and threw me out.”

  He tried to imagine Lexi being asked to surrender her child. It was not a pretty image. But Iliana was utterly woeful. Clearly she had misunderstood. “Why did you want Sofie?”

  “She is so lovely. I like the way she makes me feel. As if I am warm on the inside as well as the outside. I only wanted to rock her, as the princess does.” The nixie’s face was soft with longing.

  “Not take her soul.”

  “Oh, no.” Iliana was horrified. A frown marred her perfect face. “I don’t think I could anyway. I only wanted to have someone to love me.”

  He had heard of nixies of course. In times past, children had been threatened with them. And he had heard also of the soulless. Yet Iliana did not seem to him to be wicked. Just unemotional. Except when she spoke of her sister and baby Sofie. What was going on? Why had she chosen to save Jareth from the countess’ evil spirit?