Fire and Fate: Part 1 & 2 (Dragons of Galicia)
Page 1
Table of Contents
PART IThe Spear of Gorias
PART IIThe Journey North
PART I: The Spear of Gorias
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
PART II: The Journey North
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Excerpt: Fire and Chains Book 2
Author’s Note
BY SIMONE POND
Fire and Fate
Dragons of Galicia Series
Book 1
By Simone Pond
simonepond.com
True destiny pierces the heart.
Inside the hamlet of Ocelum, a select group of females frantically compete for the attention of the prince of Verubri Castle. All except one. Evelyn is constantly busy tending to her mother’s farm. Her mother refuses to partake in such frivolous customs because she knows her daughter has a far greater destiny awaiting. Evelyn’s father was a legendary dragon slayer and his blood runs in her daughter’s veins. But Evelyn has other wishes, like falling in love and winning over the prince. When the prince finally takes notice of Evelyn, he becomes smitten and invites her to his castle to become one of his ladies-in-waiting. Evelyn soon discovers destiny isn’t something that can be avoided.
Table of Contents
PART I: The Spear of Gorias 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
PART II: The Journey North 1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Excerpt: Fire and Chains Book 2
Author’s Note
BY SIMONE POND
PART I
The Spear of Gorias
1
The first of May had been a long-honored day for the people in the coastal hamlet of Ocelum and all throughout the villages in northern Galicia. They dedicated the day to celebrating springtime fertility for livestock, soil, and, of course, their women. As the first sun of spring equinox set, bonfires were lit and the rituals began. Drinking of wine, singing of songs to their gods, and much dancing carried on throughout the night. Then any women over the age of eighteen would make their way into one of the many tents encircling the various bonfires. They would lie down on the soft grass and wait for their entourage of visitors, receiving them until the break of dawn.
In the weeks that followed the ceremony, the women remained in their tents and waited patiently to see who had been “fertilized.” The more favored women exited with child. The less fortunate ones were assigned to be their midwives and to wait on them hand and foot. Those conceived during this time were labeled the “May Day” babies and said to be divine children of the gods. They were regarded throughout the hamlet with the utmost respect. The males would go on to become warriors and protect the territory. The females were doted on and throughout their lives they were groomed to be presented to the royalty of their time. At the age of eighteen only one of the females would be selected to live at Verubri Castle on the other side of Bispos Peak beyond the Vindius Mountains. There she would join one of the many ladies-in-waiting to possibly one day become royalty herself.
Because of this long-time tradition, competition among the mothers and their special May Day daughters ran high in the hamlet. Though everyone conducted themselves cordially, one could sense the tension that simmered just below the surface and the anxiety that peaked whenever someone from Verubri Castle was passing through Ocelum during their travels. The mothers of the May Day daughters would be consumed preparing their prized beauties, sewing new dresses, finding the most beautiful ribbons, and creating fragrances from the flowers that grew on the hillsides.
That is how things had operated in the hamlet of Ocelum for hundreds of years, until one woman named Deirdre said the undertaking was a ludicrous and inefficient waste of time. She happened to have a special May Day daughter, but she refused to partake in the frivolity of putting ribbons in her hair just to accommodate a time-honored tradition. Deirdre stood apart from the other females in her hamlet because she had suffered great misfortune and sacrifice. When she was a young girl, her parents had been burned to death by one of the dragons of Galicia. She quickly learned how to raise herself, tend to the crops, and take care of the goats on her own. The work was grueling and exhausting, yet it gave her character. And that is something she wished to impart upon her daughter, Evelyn. She believed her daughter was meant for something greater than merely becoming a “lady-in-waiting” to northern Galicia’s Prince Kieran.
Evelyn was the most unique of the May Day babies. Not because she was conceived during the loathsome May first ceremony, but because she wasn’t. No one in the hamlet knew this secret because Deirdre kept it locked away, even from Evelyn. Her daughter was the result of a love affair with a legendary warrior named Lugh, who Deirdre had encountered during one of her deliveries in a nearby village many years ago.
Lugh had been passing through Branbury Forest with a few of his men. They were merry and jubilant, having just returned from a recent kill of one of the northern dragons that had been on a rampage, burning down some nearby coastal villages. Lugh and his warriors were dragging the beast’s head behind them as they marched southward on the muddy path. When Lugh’s gaze fell upon Deirdre, he told his men that his heart had stopped and that only she could restore its beat.
Lugh bowed, taking Deirdre’s calloused hand into his well-worn one. “Your eyes are the color of greenest pastures and your copper hair is like that of no other lass I’ve ever known. And I admire a woman who is not afraid to work.” He laid a kiss upon her fingertips.
The men chortled at Lugh’s sudden shift and teased him endlessly for being such a softie.
“This is an angel straight from the heavens, she is, and she will be mine by nightfall,” he said.
Deirdre yanked her hand away. “I’m a busy woman and have wares to sell before dark. I’m far too busy for your foolish shenanigans.” She continued pushing her cart down the mucky path as the men laughed at Lugh’s rejection.
But Lugh wouldn’t allow the cooper-haired beauty to simply walk away. He left the company of his men and chased after Deirdre. At first she refused to let him assist with the cart, but he was relentless, so she stepped aside and let him push. Then the charismatic blond-haired warrior swept through the village and sold every last apple and block of goat cheese using his charm. Deirdre felt a slight smile curling on her lips; she usually returned to her hamlet with half of her goods.
On the journey back, Deirdre finally let down her guard and decided that perhaps Lugh wasn’t so bad after all. She agreed to have him over for dinner and made him a delicious stew of potatoes and leeks. He promised to return within a month’s time. And he did. He kept his word and met her each month with a bushel of wildflowers he’d picked along the way, fine fabrics and ribbons, and delicious wine that was so intense only a few sips made her head dance with the fairies. They ate and drank, but when it came time for sleep, Deirdre would send Lugh to the barn. Still, he continued visiting throughout the winter months, always agreeing to sleep in the barn, until one night in early April when a turbulent thunderstorm came upon the coast.
Lugh held Deirdre close against his brawny chest. “My love, I implore you to allow me to stay in your cottage on this treacherous night. I pr
omise upon my invincible spear of Gorias that I will be a perfect gentleman.”
Deirdre smiled gently and released the bun at the nape of her neck, letting her long copper waves cascade down her back. Lugh moaned in delight as he pressed his sinewy body against her supple one. He placed a tender kiss on her cheek and tasted fire on his lips. She parted her mouth slightly and tilted her head back, inviting him closer. When their lips joined, fire streaked through their tongues and down their necks, igniting their insides. After that, there was no stopping or splitting apart. They fell onto the bed of cotton and Lugh tore off Deirdre’s dress from the bosom down the middle.
“I’ll bring you more fabric,” he said, panting.
She cooed and moaned, pulling his shirt over his hair and rumpling his blond curls. “Shh, my lord. This is no time to discuss such matters.”
Lugh grabbed her wrists and pressed her back against the blankets, devouring her with kisses. She was the breeze and he was the sail, breathing her in. At the age of eighteen, Deirdre was still a virgin—she hadn’t yet participated in the May Day ritual—so when Lugh entered her, she cried out as thunder cracked across the sky and lightning lit up the black night.
“Apologies, my lady,” Lugh said, kissing her neck.
“The pleasure outweighs the pain. Please don’t stop.”
Lugh did not stop until morning, and the two remained in bed the entire day, snuggling under the blankets and ignoring their duties and chores. Lugh postponed his journey south for a week so he could spend more time with his beautiful Deirdre, promising that their lovemaking would only improve. And it did, greatly. Deirdre couldn’t get enough of the godlike warrior, and the two gorged on each other day and night.
One brisk April morning over tea and toast, Lugh told Deirdre, “I never want to return to my village.”
“Then you must come live with me. Our hamlet needs a legendary warrior of your caliber. Especially during the harvest moon when the one of the dragons of Galicia might return to destroy our crops.”
Lugh sipped his tea and nodded, smiling. “Why not. I think it’s a tremendous idea, my queen. Just the two of us in this delightful cottage.”
Deirdre sat upon his sturdy lap and whispered into his ear, “Soon to be three.”
Lugh’s face held a look of befuddlement for a moment, and then his bright blue eyes widened and he jumped up, holding Deirdre in his arms. “Are you? You are … My love … you’re …”
“Yes, my lord. I’m with child.”
Holding her tightly, he danced around the cottage and sang praises to the heavens for this glorious blessing.
A severe and dire knocking on the front door interrupted them mid-celebration. Lugh set down Deirdre so she could tend to her visitor.
When she opened the door, one of Lugh’s men burst into the cottage, hollering, “Sir! Sir! You must return to our village. One of the dragons of Galicia has come to seek revenge upon us. The dragon we slew months ago was his counterpart. He’s taken our people hostage, awaiting your return.”
Deirdre stepped back and dropped into the chair where Lugh had just been sipping his tea. Everything around her went silent. She didn’t want Lugh to leave her to fight the dragon, but she couldn’t get between a warrior and his battle. She sat quietly and watched Lugh gather his belongings. Lastly, he tucked his invincible spear of Gorias into his sheath. Though the legendary warrior had killed other dragons in his time, this one would be the most vicious. Revenge burned through the egregious beast’s fire blood. Dragons of Galicia were notorious monsters, one of them had killed her parents, leaving her an orphan. Would the same thing happen after she had finally found someone to love? The fissure in her heart cracked open and the pieces shattered to the floor.
Lugh kneeled next to her and placed his large hand on her stomach. “I will come back and be with you and our child. The three of us will live together for many long and healthy years.” He leaned forward and kissed her dry lips.
“My lord,” she choked out.
He stood and kissed her forehead. “I shall return within a week’s time.” And off he went.
But after a few days, rumors began to spread along the coast of northern Galicia that the dragon had destroyed nearly the entire southern region, burning it and everyone living there to a crisp. Deirdre still held on to the hope that Lugh would make a miraculous return. But a week had passed, and now the May Day celebration had come upon the hamlet of Ocelum. Since Deirdre had recently turned eighteen, wasn’t married, and was thought to be a virgin, she was required to participate in the ceremony. But she had no intention of actually partaking in the appalling ritual, especially since she was already with child. So she came up with a ploy to trick everyone into thinking she would willingly participate.
***
On the big day, festivities began in the hamlet of Ocelum early in the morning with song and dance and carried on throughout the day. In the evening, the women prepared a grand feast for all of the inhabitants. Delicious foods and wines were shared among the people. And when the first moon of the equinox sat high above, it was time for all the women over the age of eighteen to head to their tents, where they’d wait for the men. Deirdre entered her tent and prepared what she needed for the night of visitors, then she sat and quietly waited as songs continued playing.
When the first man entered the modest tent, Deirdre immediately handed him a large cup of the powerful wine Lugh had gifted her during one of his visits. Since he’d been imbibing wine throughout the afternoon and evening, the man was already swaying and a bit cross-eyed. Deirdre assisted him to the ground and wrapped a band of silk fabric around his head to cover his eyes. She assured the drunken man that this technique would help him fully experience the richness of physical sensations. Drunk and blindfolded, she pushed him back onto the grass and tied his hands above his head, then slowly removed his pants. He moaned for Deirdre, but she assured him if he remained still and trusted her that he’d experience pleasure he’d never known before and that would most definitely increase the possibility of fertilization. She took the hand-held funnel she’d molded from wax, pouring warm honey into the shaft, and placed it upon his manhood.
“My lady,” he sighed in delight, “your garden is sublime. This feels … beyond … my meager words.”
The act lasted less than two minutes, and when he was finished Deirdre tucked the funnel under a blanket and untied the man’s wrists and removed the blindfold. He gazed up at her with bleary eyes and reached for her breast, but she backed away.
“You must move on to the next tent and spread your seed among the other women,” she said, helping him with his pants.
“But, my lady, I’m spent. I have no desire for anyone else other than your sweet fruit.” He groaned into her ear, pulling her against his body. This man’s scent sickened her deeply and she wanted him gone. She wanted to be finished with the absurd tradition of spreading seeds.
“You must go now to complete the ritual, but return to me in the morning,” she whispered into his ear, knowing he’d be passed out by morning and for the rest of the day. He’d never remember their encounter.
He rose to his feet and stumbled forward, finding the slit in the tent opening. Before he slipped out into the darkness, he looked over his shoulder and winked. Deirdre’s stomach rolled with disgust as she waved him off.
Several other men visited Deirdre’s tent that night and she handled each one in the exact same manner—and none were the wiser. Whispers filtered around the bonfires about the copper-haired enchantress with the magical garden that would make the devil himself fall to his knees. She became methodical with each visitor, only thinking about Lugh and the baby growing inside her belly. She thought about the two of them raising their child and having many more. The fantasies of Lugh returning from his battle with the dragon fueled her to get through the deplorable night.
“Soon,” she whispered as she glanced up to the moon as it drifted across the blue-black sky. “Soon, we will be together again.
”
But many moons passed and Lugh never returned to the hamlet, he never stepped foot into the cottage, and he never held Deirdre in his arms again.
When Deirdre went into labor on a bitter cold January morning, her doting midwife, Clara, worried that it was too soon.
“All the other women aren’t due for another moon,” Clara said, packing warm blankets around Deirdre in preparation for delivery.
“Everything’s fine, my dear Clara. I’ve followed your instructions all these months, eaten healthily, hired a boy to tend to the crops and goats these last couple months. Don’t you worry. She will be perfectly healthy.”
Clara set the instruments on the bedside table. “She, my lady? Are you quite sure? You’re holding fairly high for this baby to not be a boy.”
Deirdre grimaced as the labor pains ripped across her belly and shot fire down her legs. “She will be a warrior like her father. And I will name her Evelyn. The light of my life.”
2
Eighteen Years Later
Yet another sunset settled over the hamlet of Ocelum. Eighteen-year-old Evelyn stood gazing over the fields she had spent the entire day plowing. Springtime was Evelyn’s favorite season. It symbolized rebirth and renewal. She adored the sweet fragrance of flowers blooming and the return of birds from the south as they filled the air with song. What she didn’t love was working in the fields. It was grueling, tiresome work that left her hands coarse and rugged, and made her muscles hard and sinewy instead of soft and supple. None of the other girls her age worked like Evelyn, and this had always been a source of confusion. After all, she was one of the special May Day babies said to be of the divine children of the gods.
Throughout her life, Evelyn stood on the sidelines and watched—with great envy—as the other girls who had been conceived during the exact same celebration grew up being pampered and indulged by everyone in the hamlet. Evelyn secretly called the pack of beauties the “May Day Five” and they were in constant competition with one another. Their only reason for living was to be selected by Prince Kieran to return to Verubri Castle and become one of his ladies-in-waiting. Ultimately the grand prize would be winning his hand in marriage. A fate unlikely for Evelyn, who was always working in the fields or making goat cheese. While the other mothers would primp and prepare their daughters for Prince Kieran’s visits, Evelyn’s mother made sure her daughter completed her chores first. And if she did finish in time for the prince’s arrival, Evelyn blended into the backdrop with her plain clothes and dirty hands. The May Day Five teased her endlessly.