Viking Vow

by S. T. Bende

  Deathknell turned a tight circle, folded her legs beneath her, and nestled against the cliff’s wall. She dropped her head to the ground, and let out an exhausted chuff.

  Same, sister.

  “You two stay here.” Erik removed my hands from his chest, and slid off Deathknell’s back. I promptly flattened myself against the dragon for warmth. “I’m going to do a lap to make sure we’re in the right spot. If everything looks good, we’ll try to connect with the chief after lunch.”

  “S-s-sounds g-g-g-g—” I gave up trying to speak, and nodded my consent.

  “Take this.” Erik dug the blanket from one of our bedrolls out of Deathknell’s left net, and tucked it around my shoulders. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Since words were beyond me, I leaned down and pressed my lips against his. When he pulled away, he tugged the hood of his cloak over his head, turned on one foot, and jogged down the beach.

  Deathknell craned her neck to look back at me. She jutted her chin to the ground.

  “What?”

  She jutted her chin again.

  I was seriously not getting it.

  With a chuff, Deathknell jutted her chin a third time. She blew a stream of fire at the rocks beside her belly, and only then did I realize she was trying to help me warm up. She’d done the same for Erik when he’d been trapped in the snow, keeping him from hypothermia while we’d figured out how to get him off the side of a mountain.

  “R-r-r-ight. Th-th-th—” I gave up again.

  When I pried my near-frozen leg over her spine, Deathknell tilted so I slid easily onto the ground between her and the rock-wall. She swung her neck around, tucking me into the pocket between her front leg and her stomach. It was warmer here, and much more protected from the wind that still blew along the beach.

  And it was really sweet to know she was looking out for me.

  With one mittened hand, I reached back to pat the dragon’s belly. Then I pulled my blanket tighter around my torso, and curled my legs up to my chest, and I waited.

  And waited.

  And tried not to worry about the enormity of the task ahead of us . . . and the fact that we had absolutely everything to lose.

  Chapter 10

  ERIK DIDN’T RETURN FOR what felt like an hour. During that time, Deathknell blew little fireballs against the side of the cliff to keep me warm. This, combined with the storm finally breaking, kept my fingers and nose at above-frostbitten levels. But I still missed my room in the castle, and it’s beautiful, älva-powered central heating.

  Boots crunched on the snow, and I whipped my head up. Was Erik back?

  “Saga?”

  Thank God.

  “I’m here,” I called. Deathknell’s fireballs had stopped my chattering teeth.

  “They’re ready for us.”

  I pushed up to my knees so I could see over Deathknell’s back. “I thought you were just checking to see if we were in the right place.”

  “I was.” Erik rounded the dragon. I dropped back down as he sat beside me. “But I found a group of the tribe’s fishermen, and they warned me about a dragon they’d seen overhead.”

  “Oh.” Guess we hadn’t snuck in as planned after all.

  “I told them not to worry, that it was my dragon, and most of them ran away. Apparently, our reputation precedes us.”

  “The false reputation we’ve spread, in which Valkyris is a rabid tribe of avenging warriors?” I offered.

  “Ja.” Erik shrugged. “I told the ones who stayed that we’d like a meeting with their chief, and they agreed to arrange one. We’re to meet in the longhouse in a few minutes’ time.”

  My shoulders drooped. “Guess lunch is out of the question then?”

  “We can eat on the go.” Erik reached into the net and pulled out our food bag. “What do you have in here that’s quick?”

  “Fish jerky?” I shuddered.

  “Do you mean the dried herring?” Erik handed me the rations. “What do you have against that?”

  Besides the fact that it was old, dried-out fish meat? “I’ll go with cheese. And bread.”

  I dug into the bag and laid out an array of to-go treats. We each grabbed a few things and stuffed them in our pouches, then packed up the rest of the food and returned it to Deathknell’s net. Erik retrieved a pair of swords, and handed one to me. When I’d slipped it into my belt, I checked my pouch for Katrin’s magical bribes. As I patted the golf-ball-sized parcels, I gave Erik a nod. We were set.

  “What should we do about her?” I pointed to the dragon. “If the people here are afraid, do you think they might try to hurt her?”

  “Good point. Let’s have Deathknell circle the village from the air until I signal her to land.” Erik paired his order with a hand signal.

  “You’re sure?” I questioned. “Won’t they be more afraid if they see a dragon overhead?”

  “A little reminder of our power might help our cause. Plus, it’s never a bad idea to have a dragon around in case there’s an emergency. Deathknell, go.” Erik signaled again.

  The dragon looked to me for approval. Doesn’t understand us my left foot.

  “I’m all right,” I told her. “You warmed me up. Thanks for that. Just fly around the village until we call for you to come back down, okay?”

  With a nod, Deathknell got to her feet. She jogged the short distance toward the ocean, then stretched out her wings and launched into the air. In no time, she was half-a-mile high, doubling back toward what I could only assume was the village.

  “You’re sure?” I asked one more time.

  “Trust me. That dragon may be the best bargaining chip we have. Not only is it proof we’re blessed by the gods, but it’s a weapon no other tribe has in their arsenal—not even Bjorn. We hope.”

  Gulp.

  Erik and I set off down the beach. While I shoved food into my mouth, he briefed me on the politics of the tribe we were about to meet. I knew from Katrin’s informational packet that the Fiksir were a fishing tribe, whose leadership rested in one family—its chiefhood had been passed down from father to son for five hundred years. They were far enough north to be considered a part of the Sámi, a people whose primary vocations included fishing, trapping, and reindeer herding. Compared to the southern-dwelling Vikings, the Sámi were known to be extremely peaceful—they avoided conflict at all cost. Not that conflict often bothered the Sámi. Their settlements were too remote, and their resources too scarce to be of much interest to pillagers. But in spite of their harsh climate, or perhaps because of it, the Sámi were the only people who knew how to farm, herd, and navigate across the northern Norwegian landscape. And that was bound to be attractive to a clan hell-bent on conquering the world.

  After a twenty-minute walk, Erik pointed to a grass-covered hut. “The chief is waiting for us in there.”

  “That’s their longhouse?” I studied the small structure. It resembled a teepee, with logs angled from the ground upward. However, instead of a tarp-like perimeter, the walls of the hut were made of dirt and grass. The meeting house looked more like our prophet’s home base back on Valkyris than the formal log-cabin structures I’d seen in Bjorn. “It’s not what I expected.”

  “The Fiksir are a fishing tribe—they follow the food source as it shifts, so they tend to build their homes more quickly than other groups.” Erik led us over a small knoll. “Also, wood is less easily available here. The nearest forest is a good day’s walk.”

  “I see.” I’d visited the Folkemuseum enough to know this region had different customs from the rest of the country . . . but seeing it up close was definitely a learning experience. My grandmother would have absolutely eaten this up.

  God, I miss her.

  I hadn’t permitted myself to think much about my family lately—nothing beyond surface thoughts. I’d wondered how Mormor and my cousin Olivia had celebrated the holidays, whether Olivia was enjoying what should have been our freshman year at Northern Minnesota University, and what they had planned for
next month’s Syttende Mai celebrations—Norway’s constitution day was always a big to-do in our hometown. I didn’t allow myself to think about the experiences I’d missed out on—Mormor’s eightieth birthday, Olivia’s no-doubt successful rush of our mothers’ shared sorority, or the annual cookie-baking weekend my cousins and I enjoyed while my uncle cooked all the meats and my aunt and grandmother recreated several incarnations of family lefse recipes. The pain of remembering dug into my gut, hooking just behind my belly button and tugging downward in a yank of sadness. Though I treasured the relationships I’d formed in Valkyris, I hadn’t stopped missing the family I left behind.

  “Saga?” Erik glanced over at me. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Totally.” I drew my shoulders back and pushed all heartache from my mind. “So. Clan Fiksir.”

  “Saga?”

  “I’m fine. Honest.” I wiped my nose on the back of my hand.

  Viking up, girl.

  “So,” I said. “We’ll go in, make our case, and hopefully convince the leadership that we’re the team to pick in this fight. How many clansmen did you see when you were scouting?”

  “Fewer than I’d expected.” Erik frowned. “Either they’re all taking a lunch break or . . .”

  My pulse quickened. “Do you think Bjorn already got to them?”

  “Something’s definitely going on. Nobody comes this far to raid, and the land’s not valuable enough to fight over. But those people I talked to were scared, Saga.” Erik rubbed the back of his neck. “Someone put the fear of the gods into them. They were absolutely terrified when I told them the dragon they saw was mine.”

  “And nobody from Valkyris has traveled here before, right? This would be the first dragon they’d seen?”

  “Correct.”

  “So why would they be so afraid?” Oh, Saga. Of course. Besides the obvious. “I guess I was pretty freaked out the first time I saw a dragon.”

  “You were,” Erik confirmed. “But this was different.”

  I reached over to touch his forearm. “Maybe having Deathknell circle is a bad idea.”

  “Maybe,” Erik agreed. “But we can always wave her off. For now, I think it’s best to go in strong.”

  “You’re the expert,” I said lightly. But my heart continued to race. If one of our riders had gone rogue and done something to hurt this tribe . . .

  But nobody from Valkyris would do that. Right?

  Birna might.

  The thought was a whisper, a tiny stab in the back of my consciousness. But it was so ridiculous, I wouldn’t entertain it. Birna was ambitious, selfish, and driven by a misunderstood prophesy. But she wouldn’t drag an innocent village into her social-climbing warfare . . . would she?

  “I’ll go in first.” Erik’s hand on my shoulder stilled my thoughts. “If for any reason things turn hostile, I want you to run. I’ll hold them off and come after you once you’ve had time to call for the dragon.”

  “I’m sure everything will be fine.” I pulled my shoulders back. “I’ve rehearsed our pitch dozens of times. It’s grounded in sound logic, and you’re the most intimidating enforcer in the history of ever. I have every faith that we’ll leave this hut with a newly converted branch of Valkyris.”

  Erik’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I love your confidence, min kjære.”

  “And I love you.” I winked up at him. “Now get inside. I’m cold.”

  Erik placed his hand on the door. He pushed it open, letting the thrum of anxious voices escape. I distinctly heard the words “murderers” and “destroyed overnight” before Erik stepped into the hut. The second he cleared the threshold, we were pinned with a sea of stares and the room fell completely silent. Erik’s hand went to the hilt of his sword as he stepped to the side, making room for me. I took a quick read of the room before I followed him. The energy was an uncomfortable blend of fear and hostility, tempered with a heavy dose of anger.

  “Erik,” I murmured. If we needed to turn tail and run, now was the time.

  “I know.” Erik’s voice was deceptively calm. But his hand didn’t shift from his sword.

  With a slow breath, I stepped cautiously into the crowded hut. My nose was immediately assaulted with a mixture of fish and sweat. At least twenty men were gathered inside, none of whom held weapons—that I could see, at any rate—but all of whom wore furrowed brows and tightly clenched jaws. Whether they intended to attack or run, I couldn’t quite tell, though it was clear they didn’t want Erik and me around. I had no idea whether someone had come before us and threatened their way of life, or if they were put off because we were the first visitors they’d seen in years . . . if ever. The only thing I was sure of was the fact that Erik and I would have to give the argument of our lives if we wanted to convince a single member of Clan Fiksar to stand with us in the battle that loomed ahead.

  Which was exactly what I intended to do.

  Chapter 11

  “WHY HAVE YOU COME?” One of the men stepped forward. His long, red hair was windblown, and he wore the same tall boots and high-waisted pants as the rest of his clansmen. In any other circumstance, I’d have taken a moment to appreciate a glimpse at the medieval version of waders.

  “Thank you for having us.” I kept my voice steady. “My name is Saga, and this is Erik. We’re representatives of Clan Valkyris.”

  “I ask again—why have you come? Are you here to destroy our village, or to take our women as thralls?” The man spat the words as if they were poison.

  “Neither.” I folded my hands at my waist. “I understand my tribe has a reputation—one we’ve cultivated over the years. But I assure you, Erik and I are not here to hurt you. We’re here to invite you to join our clan . . . and receive the power of our protection.”

  “Is that why you’ve brought in your dragon?” A second man stepped forward. “To remind us that if we refuse, we’ll be burned to the ground like Clan Norgrud?”

  I glanced at Erik, whose raised brows let me know he was every bit as confused as I was.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Clan Norgrud—our neighbors to the east.” The man crossed his arms. “Or should I say, our former neighbors to the east. Our tribes traded fish and reindeer meat for generations. Now, their herd roams wild . . . and we’ll have to travel twice as far to find another trading partner.”

  I frowned. “What happened to Clan Norgrud?”

  “You came in with your dragon and set fire to their settlement,” the first man growled. “You killed half of their tribe! Those who were left came to live with us. Their numbers were too small to sustain their land . . . or control their herd.”

  Erik and I exchanged worried looks. We definitely hadn’t prepared for this.

  “Valkyris hasn’t ventured this far north in a long time,” Erik swore. “We didn’t attack your neighbors.”

  “No?” The second man moved forward so he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the first. “You are the only tribe with dragons, ja?”

  “Ja,” Erik said cautiously. “So far as we are aware.”

  His eyes darted to me, and he gave a slight head shake. I had no idea if the rumor of Bjorn’s alleged dragon had reached this far north, nor did I know whether Valkyris’ scouts had confirmed or dispelled its veracity. Either way, Erik didn’t seem inclined to speak of it.

  “And you have destroyed many villages in the past, ja?”

  “This is true,” Erik admitted. “But those villages were threatening weaker tribes—hurting women, enslaving those without the ability to protect themselves. In each of those cases, we offered their chieftans the same deal we’re now offering you. We invited them to join us, and—”

  “And when they refused, you burned down their villages. Just like you did to Clan Norgrud!”

  Erik opened his mouth, no doubt intending to defend Valkyris. I placed my hand on his arm and squeezed lightly. These people had already made up their mind about us. The best we could hope for was to mitigate the damage somebody else had alr
eady done.

  “We came here today to expose the truth about Valkyris, and to offer you the opportunity to join our tribe,” I said calmly. “I understand you’ve heard terrible things about us—many of which were falsehoods perpetuated by our own clansmen in an effort to protect our unconventional way of life.”

  “Destroying villages with dragon warfare is more than unconventional,” a man in the back ground out.

  “Like Erik said, we have only done that in extreme cases—and only a handful of times in Valkyris’ entire history.” I glanced over at Erik, who nodded in agreement. “And we did not harm your neighbors. Whoever did that was not acting on Valkyris’ behalf.”

  “Are you suggesting that another tribe has dragons?” A blond man stepped up. “Someone else has been blessed by the gods with the ability to murder at will?”

  “No,” Erik said firmly. “The gods blessed only Valkyris with the gift of dragons. It was foretold to our prophets, and the gods do not revoke their word.”

  His eyes met mine, a silent communication passing between us. If the rumor was true, if Bjorn really did have a dragon . . . then the creature must have been procured by illicit means. The gods wouldn’t bless a cruel-hearted clan. Such an act would go against everything Valkyris believed.

  “Then whose dragon massacred the Norgrud?” the blonde asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “And I’m sorry for your loss. You have my word our people will investigate, and we will get to the bottom of this.”

  “Investigate the crime you committed?” The redhead snorted. “I think we know how that will turn out.”

  I bit down on my bottom lip. This meeting was not going as planned. If we didn’t find some way to reach these men, we’d be coming home empty-handed . . . something I did not intend to stand for.