Wild Kingdom

by Deanna Ashford

  Tarn attacked again, his expression cold and fearless, his lips drawn back in a tight smile. His blade flashed, leaving a wide gash across Ragnor’s upper sword arm. Ragnor drew back, his blood flowing freely from the wound, mingling with the crusted blood of his rune. His face set in a mask of fury, Ragnor gave a loud roar and struck wildly at Tarn. If the blow had caught him it would have near severed a limb but he parried it easily and danced back. He felt the stones against his bare heels, reminding him that he must at no time step out of the circle or the battle would be deemed lost.

  The two men circled each other warily, waiting for the right moment to attack. Tarn’s palms were damp with sweat and seal oil, and he tightened his hold on the leather-wrapped hilt of his dagger, waiting for Ragnor to pounce again. With a low growl, Ragnor attacked. Tarn bent and leaped aside, the blade whistling uselessly past his left shoulder. As he swung round, and faced his opponent again he saw a flicker of concern cross Ragnor’s face.

  ‘Did you expect the fight to be easy?’ he taunted. ‘I’ll kill you, Ragnor. You’ll never have Rianna, she’s mine.’

  ‘Mine now,’ Ragnor retorted, lunging furiously at Tarn. Their blades clashed with a sharp scraping sound again and again, each attacking and defending, until they breathlessly drew back knowing that they were far too evenly matched. They fought on, both scarred by the battle now; blood oozing from the scratches on their flesh, neither badly wounded as yet.

  Ragnor threw himself forwards again with such ferocity that Tarn crouched and threw himself into a dive, rolling and springing lithely to his feet, landing almost behind his attacker. Tarn lunged and before Ragnor could turn and parry the blow, Tarn’s blade cut deep into his side. Tarn pulled the dagger from Ragnor’s flesh, the blade scraping jarringly against his victim’s ribs.

  Uttering a loud groan, followed by a grunt of painful fury, Ragnor held his arm against the wound and backed away. ‘You’ll die for that,’ he shouted as blood dripped from the wound on to his legs and feet.

  ‘First you have to catch me, Tarn taunted.

  ‘Now, Jorvik,’ Ragnor yelled, gripping his weapon so hard that his knuckles turned white as he circled Tarn.

  There was a dull thudding sound as an axe landed at Tarn’s feet. Jorvik threw the other axe more carefully, guiding it straight into Ragnor’s left hand. Bending to grab hold of the axe, Tarn backed away as Ragnor advanced. He held the weapon for a second to gauge its balance and weight, edging cautiously around the ring. With an ear-shattering roar, Ragnor lunged, wildly waving both dagger and axe. Tarn parried the blade with his, deflected the axe blow with the haft of his weapon and managed to swing Ragnor’s hand aside with a display of sheer brute strength.

  Ragnor angrily lunged again, Tarn parried and the two men struggled, muscle straining against muscle. Blood dripped from Ragnor’s wound on to Tarn, the seal oil making their skin stick slickly together as each battled to defeat the other. Using every ounce of strength he had, Tarn shoved Ragnor away. He began to move slowly round the circle again, anticipating the next attack. Ragnor was losing a lot of blood from the wound in his side and he would soon grow weaker. All Tarn had to do was bide his time and wait.

  With a blood-curdling battlecry Ragnor threw himself at Tarn, brandishing his axe. Tarn parried the axe blow, smashed aside Ragnor’s dagger and kneed him in the belly. Ragnor grunted in pain, and staggered back. Tarn advanced, hit him hard across the shoulder with the haft of his axe and followed it up with a blow to the side of the head. The sickening crack reverberated round the bailey as Ragnor crumpled to the ground.

  Tarn kicked Ragnor’s weapons away from his slack hands, dropped the axe and kneeled across his victim’s chest. He held the blade of the dagger to Ragnor’s neck. He looked barely conscious, but his eyes flickered open as Tarn said, ‘Submit. Admit I’ve won, and I’ll not kill you.’

  ‘No,’ Ragnor hissed.

  ‘Do it – no more need die,’ Tarn said softly as he pressed his blade to the pale skin until it brought forth bright beads of blood. ‘Submit. Allow me to take Rianna and depart. She loves me, not you.’

  Ragnor’s eyes were filled with pain, and the depth of his emotion surprised Tarn. ‘I’ll never accept that. I’ll not lose her,’ he gasped.

  ‘Your law says you must submit,’ Tarn replied, pressing the dagger harder to Ragnor’s throat. ‘Unless you wish to die and let Jorvik rule in your place. I demand that you agree to free my men and Lord Sarin.’

  ‘It appears I have no choice,’ Ragnor muttered resentfully as he closed his eyes.

  Relieved the battle was at an end, Tarn stood up and tossed his dagger aside. He wasn’t badly wounded, but the cuts he had were bleeding quite profusely now and he felt weary. That mattered not. All he wanted to do was gather up Rianna and leave this barbarian stronghold as swiftly as he could. He smiled as he saw Rianna lift up her velvet skirts and run eagerly towards him.

  Tarn,’ she gasped, rushing to the edge of the stone circle. ‘You are hurt, my love?’

  ‘A few scratches,’ he said, pausing his side of the stones, waiting for the jarls to announce the combat was ended. ‘It’s nothing,’ he added and smiled lovingly at her.

  ‘Tarn,’ she screamed, her eyes widening in fear.

  He felt a muscular arm grab his throat, and the point of a dagger press into the small of his back.

  ‘I’m not finished,’ Ragnor growled, pulling Tarn hard back against his bloodied form. ‘I’ll kill you, Rianna is mine!’

  ‘I’m not yours, I never will be,’ Rianna said, her face tight with concern. ‘Tarn bested you Ragnor, and gifted you your life. You cannot do this.’

  ‘I can and I will,’ he grated.

  Tarn felt Ragnor lean heavily against him, warm blood dripping on to his legs. Ragnor was making an odd rasping sound, as if he was having difficulty breathing. Yet he still held the dagger pressed hard against Tarn’s back.

  Rianna lifted the small dagger she was carrying, and for a moment Tarn feared she was going to lunge at Ragnor. Instead she pressed the point to her neck, just above her collarbone. ‘Kill Tarn, and I’ll die too, Ragnor,’ she threatened. ‘If he dies I no longer wish to live.’

  ‘You would not,’ Ragnor growled, his voice sounding weaker.

  ‘I would,’ she insisted shakily. ‘It is your choice; do I die or live?’

  ‘Ragnor,’ Tarn said calmly. ‘Your people witnessed you lose our fight. Do you wish them to witness you losing your honour as well?’

  ‘Honour,’ Ragnor gave a chuckle that ended in a disgusting gurgling sound. As he loosened his hold a little, Tarn moved as fast as he ever had – turning and twisting, feeling the blade slither cuttingly across his back as he threw Ragnor to the ground. He landed flat on his back half out of the circle of stones, clutching at his wounded side as he struggled to draw breath.

  ‘It is finished,’ Jorvik said and strode forwards. ‘Lord Ragnor has left the circle. The law of Baldnarok says he must surrender to you, King Tarn.’

  ‘Are you sure you wish to do this?’ Tarn asked Rianna.

  ‘I am certain,’ she replied, squeezing his hand.

  ‘I’ll check on the men to make sure they are ready to depart,’ Tarn replied.

  ‘And I will see you outside.’ She smiled at him reassuringly then followed Jorvik into Ragnor’s chamber.

  Ragnor was lying on the bed, propped up by pillows, his side heavily bandaged. His face was pale, but it grew even paler as he caught sight of Rianna.

  ‘Why have you come?’ he asked breathlessly, still having difficulty breathing because of his wound.

  ‘I’ve come to bid farewell to you, Ragnor.’ She sat on the stool beside the bed and took hold of his hand.

  ‘Why?’ he rasped. ‘I believed after all that had happened you would never wish to lay eyes on me again.’

  ‘I have regained what I thought I’d lost. Why should I allow bitterness to sour my happiness?’ she said gently. ‘I was so frightened when Niska brought me here, yet
you treated me with kindness. You loved me, wished to marry me – how could I despise you for that?’

  ‘I tried to kill the man you love,’ Ragnor groaned, his face twisted in pain. ‘Is that not reason enough to hate me?’

  ‘Tarn loves me, so he can understand why you acted as you did.’

  ‘Then he’s more magnanimous than I.’ Ragnor gritted his teeth as he sat up. ‘I’ve lain here far too long.’

  ‘Not long enough to recover. It is a bad wound,’ she said, pushing him gently back against his pillows. ‘Your land is in safe hands,’ she added, glancing meaningfully at Jorvik. ‘All I ask is that you consider Tarn’s proposal of a peace treaty between Vestfold and Kabra.’

  ‘My people are warriors,’ Ragnor frowned. ‘They may not welcome peace.’

  ‘Ask them,’ she challenged. ‘Ask them what they truly want.’

  ‘Why does King Tarn allow a woman to involve herself in matters of state?’ Ragnor coughed.

  ‘He trusts me more than most,’ she replied. ‘Has your sister not proven to you that women can be far from weak.’

  ‘Niska is a law unto herself,’ he muttered. ‘I never understood her when we were children and I do not now. She left early this morning, slunk away with her men. Off to find some man she calls Chang,’ he added, then grinned. ‘Jorvik said that she was in such haste to depart she left all her treasure in my strongroom.’

  ‘She will have difficulty paying her mercenaries,’ Rianna commented, knowing that Sarin had the jewels she’d stolen. Niska must be unaware that the booty she carried with her in the locked chest was nothing but a worthless pile of rocks. ‘But she’ll survive, she always does.’ She paused and looked thoughtfully at Ragnor. ‘Just think of Tarn’s offer. Send word to Kabra if you decide the answer is yes.’

  Ragnor nodded but said nothing more as Rianna rose to her feet and Jorvik escorted her from the room.

  Tarn was waiting along with Sarin and all the surviving soldiers who had accompanied them into Vestfold. It appeared that the two men had made a peace of sorts but how long that would last Rianna didn’t know. She smiled at Leon, who sat a little unsteadily on his horse beside Zene. The men all looked happy to be returning home at last.

  ‘Let us hope we never see Vestfold again,’ Tarn said as his hands clasped her waist and he lifted her on to her palfrey.

  ‘Who knows what the future holds,’ she said as he swung into the saddle of his white stallion and manoeuvred it beside hers.

  Tarn turned to look at Rianna, his love for her reflected in his blue eyes. ‘Whatever it is we’ll face it together,’ he said. ‘Now let us return to Kabra. We have a coronation to attend.’

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  Epub ISBN: 9780753526415

  Version 1.0

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies.

  In real life, always practise safe sex.

  This edition published in 2007 by

  Black Lace

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  Originally published 2000

  Copyright © Deanna Ashford 2000

  The right of Deanna Ashford to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  www.blacklace.co.uk

  ISBN 9780352335494

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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