As the last boy received his armband, the doors to the hall flew open. Shocked, everyone turned to face the entrance. The relationship between an aeldorman and his fighters was a special, sacred thing in the eyes of the gods. There were warriors stationed at the doors to make sure that the solemnity and sanctity of the ceremony were preserved. No one was allowed to enter or leave once it had started.
A tall, lean warrior marched into the hall. His blond hair was so soaked with blood it appeared almost red. He bore an angry cut across his left cheek. The fabric of his tunic had been burned away, and the exposed skin of his shoulder was blistered and raw. There was a cross on his shield, bordered in gold. His wide eyes scanned the room.
The guards rushed in behind him. All around the hall, the other warriors rose to their feet, ceremony forgotten. Fenn perched on the edge of the bench and wondered if she should draw her dagger. Ma had warned her not to bring it, and she would be in trouble if her parents saw, but she knew she could throw it true—right into the white of the stranger’s eye.
Only Aeldorman Wulfgar remained seated. He studied the man’s face as he approached the throne. With a tired sigh, the stranger sank to one knee.
“Ecberth?” the aeldorman asked. “Why are you here? Everyone, pleased be seated.”
The aeldorman’s recognition of the stranger quieted the hall, despite the man’s rough appearance. Wulfgar indicated to a servant standing by the wall, and the girl rushed to bring a stool.
“I have come from the sacred field,” Ecberth said and eased onto the stool with a stiffness that made Fenn wonder if his leg was also injured. “Two days ago, my village of Yric was destroyed. We woke to smoke and flames, and a great winged shadow that covered the sun. The dragon attacked us and thereafter made its home in the mounds of the sacred field among the dead and their gold.
“We went after it,” Ecberth continued. He took a deep breath and motioned the serving girl for a mug of mead. After a sip, he gasped, “We confronted the beast in Cyng Aella’s mound. I am the only one of my party to survive. But inside the tomb, we heard a girl as well as the beast. She was crying. No doubt the beast has captured her. It may at this moment be subjecting her to all manner of foul things. My liege, Aeldorman Hfrostan, requests that you assist us in putting the beast down before it razes another village.”
The Mead Hall erupted in hushed whispers. Fenn exchanged a glance with Cedric.
For twenty years, there had been peace in Lindeshelm. New warriors had no real reason or opportunity to prove themselves, and so they were given the armbands by the aeldorman’s decision. Since Ma had been a child, the town had not been raided by the Northmen who came from across the narrow sea. The local aeldormen had kept faith with one another and the king. The low creatures that used to live in the crevices of the mountains, snatching children and sheep, had not resurfaced.
Whoever defeated the dragon would earn glory and respect throughout the whole kingdom. If she fought a dragon and lived, Aeldorman Wulfgar would have no choice but to recognize Fenn’s skills, to give her the armband she coveted in front of everyone in the Mead Hall. There would be no more pressure to marry Cedric. They could fight beside each other as equals.
“I will not force my warriors to undertake this.” Aeldorman Wulfgar slouched on his throne and ran a hand through his graying brown hair. “But those who wish to volunteer may go with my blessing.”
This struck Fenn as cowardly. The sacred field was a two-day ride from Lindeshelm. But what was that distance to a dragon? It could fly straight over the mountains. If they didn’t act, they could be its next victims. And what of the unfortunate girl? Would the aeldorman just leave her to be tortured, eaten?
Ecberth glanced around the room. A few hands shot up, including those of Cedric and some of his more eager friends. They rose from their places on the bench and, nodding to the aeldorman, assembled by the door. Anselm sat as still as stone beside Fenn.
“If we leave it alone, it may do nothing,” Osryth, the aeldorman’s second wife, commented. She walked up to her husband’s throne and stood behind him. Her fine blue gown hung all the way to the floor and rustled when she moved. “Dragons are attracted to gold, are they not? And they are known to sometimes sleep for a hundred years once they have found a suitable lair. It can guard Cyng Aella’s tomb from thieves.”
Wulfgar took Osryth’s hand but inclined his head to the boys who stood ready by the door. “Here are some of our fine young warriors to aid you, Ecberth. For now, we will keep the rest of our fighters close at hand. Should the dragon venture farther afield, we do not want to be left undefended ourselves.”
Ecberth frowned but bowed his head. In Ebrauc, the word of an aeldorman could only be contradicted by the king himself. Ecberth could not push his case further.
“I’ll go,” Fenn said, scrambling up from her bench. Her wool dress caught on a knot of wood, but she managed to get to her feet without tripping. She pulled her dagger from its sheath. The blade glittered in the light of the shrunken tallow candles. She had sharpened it to precision and she saw the flicker of surprise and appraisal in Ecberth’s eyes as she lifted it. Aeldorman Wulfgar would never give her the chance to prove herself, but maybe this stranger would be different.
The hall went silent. The aeldorman shook his head. Anselm spluttered something hollow about girls and fights of a lifetime, though he knew nothing about either and hadn’t volunteered himself. Ma’s hand flew to her mouth. Pa’s jaw clenched with anger. But nobody laughed outright, and Fenn thanked the gods for that.
“You?” Cedric finally demanded. He folded his arms over his broad chest. “Fenn, you cannot. I forbid it.”
From him, of all people, the words were like a slap. Fenn lifted her chin.
“I mean that it is my job to keep you safe,” he stammered. “I won’t fail you.”
“I am inclined to agree,” Aeldorman Wulfgar said. “The beast has already taken one girl as prisoner.”
“If the dragon has an affinity for young girls, then perhaps he will not kill me after he incinerates the rest of you,” Fenn snapped.
Ma pinched her again.
Ecberth coughed loudly into his fist. Fenn thought that he was laughing, which made her angrier still. His dark eyes danced, and little wrinkles appeared around them when he said, “My shield brother waits outside for us. The young warriors can leave with him as soon as they are equipped. The girl can ride with me in the morning. I’ll keep her as safe as I can.”
Fenn closed her eyes and prayed to all the gods at once that Wulfgar would not deny her this.
The aeldorman’s brow creased as he studied her. Fenn stared back at him as fiercely as she could without being openly insolent.
Finally, Wulfgar sighed. “Go, Fenn, but whatever happens to you, do not blame anyone but yourself.”
* * *
Fenn barely slept that night. She stole a pair of Anselm’s breeches and dressed for the next day’s ride, then sat by her window. She looked up at the stars twinkling behind a curtain of sheer gray fog. She imagined a great shadow passing in front of them. She imagined a beast made of black smoke, twisting up to the sky. She imagined a scaled monster the size of a ship, purring like a cat and curling around Cedric’s prone body. She imagined a well of flame, bubbling in the depths of Cyng Aella’s tomb, engulfing her.
But when she finally crawled into her bed and closed her eyes, she dreamed of glory.
She woke before everyone else and gathered what supplies she could: her father’s old sword, slightly rusted, dried lamb and cheese, a skin of water. Then she snuck out into the crisp morning. If this was goodbye and she would never see her family again, she didn’t know what to say, so it was better that she left before Ma could try again to change her mind.
Anselm hadn’t spoken to her since before the ceremony in the Mead hall. Fenn had tried, but she could tell he was humiliated that Fenn had volu
nteered when he would not. But he couldn’t fight, and Fenn was happy for him to stay home, abed and embarrassed, rather than disgrace himself and their family on the sacred fields.
Ecberth waited for her outside the aeldorman’s hall. His dun horse was already saddled, and he looked cleaner than the night before, though no less tired. His hair was golden blond once more, and someone had scrubbed his bronze shield to a shine. But his eyes were bloodshot, with dark purple circles beneath them. He reclined against the wall of the Mead Hall, chewing a strand of wheat speckled with dark ergot.
The seers sometimes ate the fungus to commune with the gods more easily, but Ecberth wore the cross of the Christian god. Last night, imagining what the dragon might look like had excited Fenn more than scared her. But perhaps Ecberth chewed the ergot to twist the reality of the creature in his memories, to make it seem less monstrous.
She swallowed and gripped her pack more tightly.
“Last chance, Fenn, daughter of Aswald,” Ecberth called out. “I can ride without you, and you can go back to bed.”
Fenn glanced up at the sky, at the rays of gold cutting through the purple dawn. Ma would wake any minute to milk the goats and knead the dough she would bake into bread. If Fenn lost her nerve now, that was her future too.
“Too late for that,” she said and tied her pack to the horse’s saddle.
* * *
Ecberth did not make a good travelling companion. More than once, Fenn tried to engage him in conversation about his past or about the beast they were to face. But despite the humor she’d seen in his eyes in the Mead Hall, he kept most of his answers short. Perhaps he thought it best not to become too attached to her, since she would probably die.
In any case, she had learned that he had not actually seen the dragon. He had survived because he had been ordered to guard the entrance of the tomb. After hearing his companions scream, he had tried to run inside and had been met with a wall of fire and molten gold. The blood in his hair and on his shield had been his own, from a deep wound in his scalp caused by a beam in the tomb falling on him as he fled. He had known it was too late to save his companions, but, from within, he had heard the maiden whimpering.
“Perhaps the dragon will speak to us and tell us what it wants,” Fenn said on the morning of the second day, as they climbed the final mountain that overlooked the sacred field. They walked beside the tired mare, and her feet ached. “If it thinks you might exchange me.”
Ecberth scoffed. “I don’t think the beast is so clever. And besides, if we exchanged you, your fate would be sealed. I thought you wanted to fight.”
“I might escape,” Fenn muttered. “After it’s gone to sleep. I might kill it.”
“Or you might not,” Ecberth said and rolled his eyes. “And if you didn’t, we’d be in the same situation as now: a dragon occupying Cyng Aella’s mound and a girl trapped inside.”
“My village wouldn’t send anyone to rescue me,” Fenn snapped, even as her heart clenched. By now, Cedric was probably dead, and her brother would never risk himself to save her. Pa might not even have noticed she was missing. Whoever this girl was, Fenn hoped she was worth more to her village than Fenn was worth to her own.
At least, if she risked herself, she knew it was her own choice.
Ecberth shook his head. “You are a fighter in my war band. Honor would demand that I raise a party and go in after you, if I believed you still lived.”
Fenn’s cheeks stretched with a smile. Ecberth had called her a fighter. Not a maiden, not a nuisance, but a fighter. “The dragon and I might get along quite well.”
Ecberth made a disgusted grunt at the back of his throat.
They reached the top of the mountain and sat to catch their breaths. Ecberth offered Fenn the last of their dried lamb, and she tore into it gratefully. She was not used to the pace they’d kept, and her appetite was sharp. If the dragon took her, it might be a long time before she saw food again.
Below them, the sacred field stretched to the sea on the horizon. Burial mounds rose out of the earth, some as tall as oaks, others the height of Fenn’s waist. Cyng Aella’s mound was near the center, in the circle of kings. Despite the height of the mountain, Fenn could see a ring of bodies scattered around the entrance to Aella’s tomb. The warriors’ armor caught the sun and glimmered.
She shielded her eyes and squinted, searching for Cedric. But the corpses were so splayed and bloody, it was impossible to identify any of the men at a distance. Even as bile burned in her throat, she nursed the hope that he was alive.
It took them the better part of the day to pick their way down the mountain’s rocky face. And once they reached the field, they moved even more slowly, keeping under the cover of bushes and trees, lest the dragon appear in the sky and see them. They left the mare and their gear outside the mound of Cyng Wullha. The horse pranced nervously when Fenn tied her to a scraggly tree, but she seemed relieved to be left behind. When Fenn patted her neck, she settled enough to start grazing.
The field was eerily quiet. Fenn couldn’t hear any birds or even the rustle of the wind. And if the dead had anything to say, they were keeping it to themselves for now.
As they walked closer, Ecberth’s skin grew clammy with sweat. His cheeks paled, and his steps began to tremble. Pity made Fenn’s chest constrict. She did not dare ask how many people his village had lost or if he was expecting to find a dead friend at the tomb, so she reached out and clasped his shoulder instead. He took a deep breath, and his steps grew steadier.
At the entrance to the tomb, Ecberth crouched low and checked the pulse of one of the corpses—a mere boy with a patchy beard and milky blue eyes. When Ecberth pulled away, his jaw was clenched. Fenn wanted to ask him who the boy was, but she sensed it would be like ripping a scab off a newly closed wound.
“We won’t go in,” Ecberth said. “Entering and seeking out the dragon has led everyone to death so far. But if we hide here, we might be able to surprise it when it emerges to feed. We can shelter in one of the smaller mounds at night and watch in the day.”
Fenn thought that the creature had probably eaten more than enough already, given the number of men who had gone into the tomb, but she bit her tongue. Many of the men were Ecberth’s friends. And as angry as she was with Cedric for leaving her behind, she did not want to imagine a dragon picking its teeth with his bones.
From the depths of the mound, someone let out a thin, high-pitched cry. Ecberth pressed his fingers to his lips and tugged Fenn behind a tree. They listened. The cries grew louder. They were not screams of pain or fear, but something lonelier and more desperate. The cry gripped Fenn and twisted her.
“This girl—did she come from your village?” she whispered.
“No,” Ecberth said. “The dragon killed a few people when it burned our town, but no one is missing.”
“Do you know how long it was hiding here? Before it attacked you?”
Only lords and kings, aeldormen and fabled warriors were buried in the sacred field. Everyone else lived and died within the radius of their towns and were buried or burned according to the customs of the gods their family served. It had been years since a new mound had been built in the field. How long had this girl been alone in the dark with only a dead king and a monster for company? Maybe she had come with a band of warriors, intent on fighting the beast. Maybe she, too, had been told that whatever her fate, it was her own fault.
And maybe Fenn could not kill the dragon, but she was lighter than the other warriors and she carried no cumbersome shield. She had hunted deer in the woods around the town for years. She could move softly.
She sprinted forward into the mouth of the tomb. Too late, Ecberth tried to grab for her arm. He hissed after her, but Fenn ignored him.
Inside, the air of the tomb was surprisingly cold, though smoke lingered, so thick it was hard for Fenn to breathe. More bodies lined the tomb’s nar
row entrance. She stopped and listened to make sure that Ecberth had not followed her. She didn’t want to be responsible for his death, as foolishly as she had invited her own.
She crept forward, searching for Cedric among the bodies, but the corpses were burned beyond any hope of recognition. Fenn noticed that their golden armbands had been stripped off, some violently enough to dislocate shoulders.
She removed her boots and tiptoed. As her bare feet brushed charred and bloated flesh, she had to bite on her hand to keep from screaming. She pressed herself as tightly as she could to the walls and prayed to Cempa that the shadows would hide her. Now that her initial rush of pity and energy had faded, her heart drummed with fear.
All of the kings’ tombs had the same basic layout: an entrance hall, a central chamber for the king’s treasures, and a cramped burial nook made of stone at the very back. Fenn followed the winding entrance as it carved its way deeper into the mound. The crying had stopped, so perhaps the girl and the monster were asleep.
When she reached the central chamber, Fenn was so awestruck that she forgot her fear. The entire cavern was filled with gold. Goblets, armbands, crowns, and coins without number formed hills that sloped up the stone walls. It was enough treasure to fill a dozen ships or more. Cyng Aella had been powerful and rich, but no kingdom would bury so much. The dragon had been building its hoard, creating a nest of gold.
Fenn shuddered. It probably intended to raise a brood of monsters right at the heart of their sacred field. She gripped her rusted sword so tightly her fingers tingled.
She couldn’t see the dragon anywhere. She breathed a sigh of relief. The creature must have already left to feed or to gather more plunder from another helpless village. She felt a stab of guilt, thinking about Ecberth. If he was still near the mouth of the tomb, he would face the dragon alone if it returned. The beast might now be feasting on Ecberth’s mare and all their supplies. Fenn needed to get the girl, and then they all needed to hide.
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