Conquered Shores

by Brooklynn Rivers

  “Gunnar,” she whispered, choking on her emotions. She looked at the Celtic cross admiring the ethereal glow of blue amber and moonstone embedded within the circles and swirls of silver. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Freya gave me some stones from Brisingamen,” he explained, “Blue amber is most rare. Its power and protection is most potent in sunlight. Do you know the lore surrounding moonstone?”

  “No,” she said, running a finger along the edge.

  “A gift of moonstone strengthens passion between two lovers if worn during a full moon. Do you know what tonight is?” he asked, lacing the necklace around her neck.

  “A full moon,” she smiled.

  “Yes,” he said, holding her in his arms, “I’ve uncovered many interesting things about your talisman too.”

  “Ye mean, the cross,” she said.

  “In your religion, the cross will protect you from all harm. Its healing powers knows no bounds. It can defeat evil through faith, ” he explained, “I had the jewels forged into your talisman, the cross, to united our beliefs. Now we have become one. It is most powerful. Nothing can harm us. I pledge to protect you and love you for as long as I live.”

  Tears glistened in Shannon’s eyes as she listened to him. He loved her and vowed to protect her, to be with her always. Forever. He had sacrificed a part of himself so that they could be together by merging their beliefs. Was it possible that their love could survive after all? With Ravenshield by her side, she felt complete. Though darkness clouded her thoughts, she decided to follow her heart and give their love a chance.

  “I love ye, Gunnar.”

  “You have spoken the words that I have longed to hear,” he grinned, pulling her closer, “It is time to move on, Shannon. Together. We must have faith. Whatever we may face, I will fight for you no matter what the cost.”

  Shannon fell into his arms wishing that the moment would last forever. Her heart raced with joy as his words echoed in her mind. He loved her. There was nothing to be afraid of as long as he was near. Faith. She had to have faith.

  The dark cloud that hung over her had faded. This was the chance they needed, Shannon thought as she kissed his lips. Gunnar was the man she wanted and no other would do. Starting a new life with him was all she could hope for. With any luck, they could be out of Dublin in a matter of weeks and leave the past behind. A quiet life with Gunnar was all that she wanted. That’s what she longed for.

  After breaking their embrace, Shannon leaned her head against his broad chest and breathed deeply. She could smell the scent of rain as thunder rumbled in the distance. Low clouds blanketed the eastern sky.

  “We need to head back before the storm hits,” he whispered, thumbing a few locks of her hair.

  “I told you that it would rain before nightfall,” she smiled as the wind began to stir.

  Shannon slid her palm in his and slowly strolled down the trail. Everything was perfect. Nothing could hold them back. No one could destroy their love.

  Lightening streaked across the sky, splitting the heavens as a thunderous boom shook the ground. Shannon felt her heart skip a beat as she descended faster. Large raindrops splattered on her skin. The wind began to churn.

  As she made her way toward Goti, Ravenshield squeezed her hand reassuring her that he was there. Suddenly a voice inside her head echoed quietly, whispering a warning that she could not ignore.

  Great storms announce themselves with a gentle breeze.

  And all hell could destroy them.

  Chapter 17

  “Damn,” Kiera cursed, peering out of the window. She watched a shire horse gallop toward Ravenshield’s longhouse as a mist started to form. It was them. Gunnar had taken Shannon to Glendalough where he would soon rule. Heat flushed her face. Anger overwhelmed her. She should have been with Ravenshield instead of that insolent peasant.

  “What is the matter?” Magnus asked.

  “They have returned.”

  “What difference does it make?” he growled, “Come here.”

  “Wait,” she said.

  Kiera watched Ravenshield dismount and wrap his hands around Shannon’s waist. Just as her feet touched the ground, she fell into his arms and rested her head on his chest. He ran his forefinger down the side of her neck, tilting her head toward him.

  “Do not kiss her,” Kiera whispered as he leaned in. “Please don’t.”

  Kiera stomach churned watching their tender embrace. Her heart shattered into pieces as dreams of Ravenshield faded away into nothing. Look at them, she thought. How could he betray her like this? After all the seasons she stood by him, he had chosen this wench. It just did not seem possible.

  “Kiera.”

  “Not now, Magnus,” she hissed, watching Shannon lean against Ravenshield.

  Kiera caught a glimpse of the shiny necklace that dangled from Shannon’s neck. Where did that come from? A surge of jealousy raced through her core. He had never given her gifts like that, and she was the one who deserved to be rewarded.

  Pathetic.

  Just look at his face—the smile, the softness in his eyes. It was agonizing enough to witness their wanton glances during the day, and now she had to see it in the evening too. It made Ravenshield look powerless, vulnerable.

  “Weak,” she scoffed, “Ravenshield is nothing but weak.”

  “What are you talking about?” Magnus asked as he strolled up behind her.

  “Look at them.” She pointed.

  Magnus peered out of the window and saw them holding hands, strolling up to the entrance. “Ravenshield is quite smitten with her, is he not?”

  “It sickens me,” she spat, wringing her hands angrily.

  “Ravenshield is in love,” he taunted.

  “No!” She jerked away from him. “He only thinks he is.

  “It appears to be much more than that.”

  “Stop it,” she snapped, slamming her fist on the windowsill, “It is not true. It cannot be true.”

  “Calm down,” he snarled, trapping her fist between his hand and the wood.

  “Let go.”

  “No.”

  “Control yourself.”

  “Ravenshield will pay for this!”

  “Then use your head instead of letting anger control you!” he yelled, twisting her wrist.

  “You’re hurting me!” She squealed as pain shot through her arm.

  Magnus threw her to the ground and grabbed a pitcher of mead. He turned it upside down draining it dry. It was nearly impossible to deal with her when she was like this. Several men in the village had warned him that she was mad, but he did not care. She knew how to satisfy him in bed, and that was all he wanted.

  “Pull yourself together.”

  “King Olaf chose Ravenshield over you,” she said, scrambling to her feet, “Glendalough is his in spite of everything you have done. All of your deeds have been ignored, brushed away like dust.”

  “True,” Magnus growled, “but we can use Ravenshield’s weakness against him.”

  “You need to do something!”

  “It is not the right time.”

  “When will it be right, Magnus? Has that wench put you under her spell too?”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “Both of you are hopeless,” she grumbled.

  “Come now, Kiera. You cannot fool me. Revenge has consumed your soul.”

  “I know what lies within your soul as well, Magnus. Do not forget that.”

  “Do you?” Magnus strode over to her, looming over her.

  “Yes,” she replied, staring into his dark eyes.

  “You foolish wench,” he started, “There is a time to act and a time to walk away. A time to speak and a time to be silent.”

  “And what time is it now?” she asked sarcastically.

  “A time for you to listen,” Magnus spat, pushing her against the wall.

  “You have my attention,” she said, thrusting her hips against him.

  “That is more like it,” he snarled, “Li
sten well, Kiera, I will not risk my life because of your envy. I take what I want, whenever I want.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, sliding her thigh against his.

  “Legends speak of a woman who possesses powers unknown to man and anyone who tames her will be blessed with great wealth,” he explained.

  “Who is it?”

  “Shannon is the Valkyrie of Fire.”

  “You have no proof.”

  “She bears the mark of Freya.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “I saw with my own eyes,” he spat, “It is the mark of Freya.”

  “Really,” she said skeptically.

  “They visited the Woodland Witch.”

  “That means nothing. Ursa has spent too many winters alone. She is mad, Magnus, that is why the king banished her years ago.”

  “Do not question her powers,” he said, “Shannon is the Chosen. That is why Ravenshield has not shared her with anyone else.”

  Kiera fell silent as he ran his hands down the curve of her body. It started to make sense, she thought. Ravenshield had acted peculiar the day she wanted to join them in bathhouse. He ordered her to go away while he indulged himself with his new prize. In the past, he would have welcomed her with open arms, but not that time. He was protecting Shannon, hiding her from others.

  “If you believe that Shannon is the Valkyrie of Fire, then we must act quickly,” she whispered in his ear, “Ravenshield has given her a talisman of silver. That means he has made a pledge to her. You will lose your Chosen after they are wed.”

  “No,” he said, burying his face in the nape of her neck, “I will not allow that to happen.”

  “How are you going to stop it?” she asked as a groan escaped her lips.

  Magnus pulled up her skirt and smashed her body against his. “I have a plan.”

  “Tell me,” she said, locking her legs around his waist.

  “You must do exactly what I tell you,” he growled, “but I need to know something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Will you sacrifice everything to get what you want?” he asked, slipping a finger inside her core.

  “Yes,” she moaned, “Wouldn’t you?”

  “Of course,” Magnus snarled, “There cannot be any mistakes.”

  “There will be none.”

  “If we fail,” he went on, “then both of us will face death.”

  “I want revenge,” she vowed, sinking her teeth into his shoulder until he groaned.

  “You will get your revenge, but I want her.” Pain raced down his arm as he hardened instantly.

  “Leave Ravenshield to me,” she murmured as evil curled her lips.

  Locking her ankles tightly, Kiera wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her over to the table. His hands squeezed her bottom, his lips pulled at her nipples fiercely leaving them sore and tender. She liked it rough and was more than willing to do whatever it took to get her way.

  “You know what I want,” he whispered, rolling one nipple between his teeth.

  “Yes,” she moaned, throwing one leg on top of the table while steadying herself with the other. She bent her knee and leaned over. He would not be able to resist taking her from behind, she thought.

  With one quick thrust, he entered Kiera, stretching her skin until it was taut. Sweat formed on her brow while he pushed his staff deeper between the mounds of her buttocks. He massaged her center with his fingers, pounding faster with each stroke. Heat consumed her. Pressure mounted within.

  “Harder!” she screamed, digging her fingernails into the wood.

  “You like it, don’t you?” he sneered, “I’m better than Ravenshield, am I not?”

  “Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  “Of course, I am,” he growled, slapping her buttocks so hard that it left a red welt.

  “More,” she breathed as pain turned to pleasure, “I want more.”

  “Then take it all,” he roared, thrusting violently.

  Kiera closed her eyes and savored the pain that rippled inside her body. Each forceful stroke sent her spiraling down a dark and dangerous path filled with hate. She would not stop until Ravenshield paid for his betrayal. If it meant destroying him, then so be it. There would be no greater joy than seeing him writhe in pain.

  Kiera did not care if Shannon was the Valkyrie of Fire, that Irish wench would endure the worst torture imaginable. All because she had taken Gunnar away. It would not take long for Magnus to grow cold toward her. After realizing that Shannon was no more than a village peasant instead of some goddess sent from Odin, Magnus would seek retribution. And a horrible retribution it would be! When he had his fill with Shannon, then she would step in. Kiera would see that Shannon beg for her life before striking her down.

  “Yes,” Magnus growled.

  Kiera smiled, listening to Magnus groan as he grew closer to climax. He might have a plan to gain riches, but she had a better scheme that would destroy the lovers once and for all. If they joined forces, then both would get what they wanted, what they deserved. Nothing could stop them, she thought as Magnus emptied his seed inside her. She could almost taste victory on her tongue.

  “Get up,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Kiera flipped over and sprawled her legs over the edge of the table. She turned her head slowly, meeting his stare. Her lips curled in a wicked grin as thoughts of Ravenshield’s demise ran through her head.

  “Magnus.”

  “Yes?”

  “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 18

  “Don’ track mud in here,” Gerta barked, wringing her hands while two boys darted into the bakehouse, “It’s been rainin’ all morn and we don’ need another mess.”

  “Sorry, Gerta,” one of them said as he dunked his muddy hands into a bucket of water.

  “Good morn, Braelin,” Shannon said, removing loaf of bread from the oven.

  “Good morn,” Braelin replied, “It smells good in here.”

  “Grind some flour and Shannon will get ye somethin’ to eat,” Gerta said, wiping her hands on her skirt.

  Harald sat down at the end of the table and began crushing flour with a hand quern while Braelin filled a bowl with oats.

  “It’s not a good day for herdin’ sheep,” Shannon sighed, setting a bowl of honey on the table along with a cake of butter.

  “No, but the pigs will love to play in the mud,” Harald giggled.

  “It looks as if both of ye have been in rollin’ in it already,” Gerta laughed, “and it’s two days from Saturday.”

  “The weather will break soon,” Braelin said, “There’s blue sky over the ocean.”

  “Have ye checked the smokehouse yet?” Shannon asked, “The fish should be ready by now.”

  “Yes,” Harald replied, “but there is something we need to tell you.”

  “Out with it,” Gerta said, bustling around, “We need those haddock by noon.”

  “There are a few missing,” Harald said quietly.

  “What?” Gerta asked, “Ye hung all twenty, didnae ye?”

  “Yes, all twenty,” Braelin answered, sifting through the powder, “but only fifteen are left.”

  “Did ye tie them well?” Shannon asked, “Some could’ve fallen in the smoke pit.”

  “Yes, we did,” Braelin answered, “Dirk checked each one.”

  “Gunnar willnae be pleased,” Shannon mumbled.

  “I know,” Gerta chimed in, “He’ll be on the hunt for the thief as soon as he finds out.”

  “Would ye like for me to tell him?” Shannon asked, breaking a loaf in half and handing each boy a piece.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Gerta sighed, “Go deliver a few of these loaves to Völund. He’ll be starved before noon. After ye return, we’ll gather herbs for tonight’s feast.”

  “What do ye want us to do?” Braelin asked.

  “Stay here,” Shannon said, filling a basket full of bread, “and tend to the ovens. I’ll be back s
hortly.”

  Shannon threw on a wool cloak and pulled the hood over her head. She opened the door and stepped outside. It was overcast. A light drizzle started to fall. At least it was not a downpour, she thought, breathing in the damp air. And thank goodness she did not have to walk far.

  She looked beyond the stable and saw a thick stream of smoke slithering out of the smith. As she drew closer, Shannon heard a sharp clang coming from inside. What was Völund making, she wondered, walking up the path. With a turn of the handle, she opened the door and entered quietly.

  Clang, clang, clang.

  Shannon peered through the haze as heat warmed her skin. The smell of iron and wood filled the room. An orange glow radiated from the smoldering embers in the hearth.

  “Come in, Shannon,” Völund said cheerfully as he hammered on a piece of steel.

  “Good morn, Völund,” Shannon said, hearing the fire crack and pop, “I brought ye some bread.”

  “Thank you.” He shoved the rod back into the hearth.

  “What’re ye makin’ today?” Shannon asked, watching sweat glisten on his bare chest. Every muscle rippled in the shimmering firelight as he wiped his face with a cloth. His hair was damp from the heat. The braids in his beard dangled freely from his chin.

  “Forging another sword for King Olaf,” he replied.

  She put the bread basket on the table and watched as he pulled the rod out of the embers. Clang. Clang. The hammer slammed against the glowing steel violently, forming and tapering it into a sharp tip. Shards of steel splintered over the anvil with each powerful blow. The orange sheen from the hot metal faded into darkness as the steel cooled and hardened again.

  “Ye must be thirsty.” She went to the table and poured him a flagon of mead.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking a few gulps before wiping his brow with his forearm. “I am glad you came by, Shannon. I would like to show you something.”

  “What is it?” Shannon watched him toss the rod into a bucket and heard a loud hiss escape from the water. Smoke billowed out from inside, dissipating in the air.