Viking Born (Vikings Saga Volume 2)

by Grafford, Jo

  "Where is this wand of yours?" Alf cast a worried look at the crack. It was widening faster than Branwyn could mend it with her magic. She was panting now from her efforts. “These cracks are all I can hold," she gasped. "One more, and we are done for."

  "My tent," Willow instructed frenziedly. "'Tis made of bloodwood and tucked within my bedroll for safekeeping."

  He tore aside the canvas with one sweep of his arm and shook the bed linens, coming up with the wand just as Sven stomped another crack in to the deck.

  A fresh spurt of saltwater shot up like a geyser, and the longship began its final descent into the sea. Men dashed for the rails to hang on while the two halves of the ship caved downward.

  Alf drug himself along the railing, clinging like a spider to the shrouds in order to deliver the wand to its owner. "Save us if you can, witch, else we die."

  She raised the wand and pointed it at the broken center of the ship, speaking in a low singsong, coaxing life back into the dead planks.

  The wood moaned and swelled as it turned supple. The jagged ends reached for each other like fingers on human hands and clasped in the middle. She could smell the fresh sap pouring through its veins. Grout, tar, and nails crackled loose and sprang free, no longer needed, as the clinker built planks knit together to form a single structure. When she was through, it was as if the entire longship had been carved from one monstrous tree trunk.

  As astounded Alf uncurled himself from the rail as the longship righted itself and the deck returned to an even level fit for walking. While the crewman gawked in silent respect over the miracle taking place, he untied her bonds and set her free.

  She ran to Sven, stumbling to the deck as she reached him, and throwing her arms around his knees. He stilled at her touch. His thoughts merged with hers and she could see the riot of pictures racing across his mind.

  * * *

  Dread pulsed in her veins, louder than a drum, as she surveyed the broken bodies of the wood sprites. They were strew across the clearing, some lying limp in clusters of wildflowers, others tossed like rag dolls across stumps and fallen logs. Around the perimeter of the clearing, a dozen tall wooden stakes rose from the ground. A crossbar was lashed to the top of each, forming crosses. The Druidesses who had mentored her since birth, all eleven of them, were mounted on the crosses with stacks of dried and brittle kindling piled at their feet. It was clear what their captors intended for them. They made not a sound. No tears. No pleas. Each stared straight ahead in stoic silence, save one.

  Her face lined with weariness and age, the oldest muttered to herself. Beads of sweat popped in raised relief along her brow as she chanted Green vines sprang forth and wound themselves around and along the length of the cross. The kindling at her feet transformed into lush greenery in full bloom.

  The vines snaked their way across the clearing to the twelfth cross, the only one which remained empty.

  Four hooded creatures looked on at their handiwork, paying her no mind. They lit their torches and raised them. A hiccup of expectancy hung in the air.

  A scream rent the clearing, and a much younger Druidess—she could not have been more than ten years of age—was dragged across the clearing by two more of the hooded creatures, making six of them. They slung her small frame against the empty cross and tied her arms into place.

  The tallest hooded creature held up its hand and issued a command. The five other hooded creatures descended upon the women at the stakes. They stabbed their daggers into the hearts of each until the clearing was drenched with their life force and filled with the scent of copper.

  At last the leader of the hooded beings called for the fire. The men lowered their torches to light the kindling at the base of each cross. Flames shot through the clearing, skating across the lines of blood, and connecting each rivulet until it formed a fiery web.

  Blue sparks erupted from the flames and were drawn as if sucked by a heavy funnel of air to the child Druidess. Like the others, her chest was soaked was blood. Sparks shimmered across the surface of her skin and dipped into each of the stab wounds, mending and healing her.

  Her eyes flew open, twin pools of violet light, and her lips parted on an agonizing cry. She arched her back against her cross and seemed to absorb all the energy and fire radiating from the eleven other women. Blue fire steamed and rolled along the connecting webs of blood one last time before gathering and plunging into one glorious funnel into her chest.

  Thunder crashed across the heavens, and the fires abruptly died at the bases of the crosses. Eleven women's bodies drooped from them, dry and shriveled like mummies. Only the youngest Druidess remained, pulsing with life and power.

  Fresh blue fire shimmered across her skin and burnt away her bonds. She stepped down from the cross with a snarl of rage and pointed at the hooded leader in the center of the clearing. An arc of blue fire shot from her fingertip and pierced his heart. He incinerated in an instant, his empty robe billowing to the ground.

  One of the witch hunters shouted a warning and took off running, but she stopped him with a second bolt of blue fire. Four more bolts sent four more hoods fluttering to the ground. With a sob, the Druidess ran to each of her fallen comrades, each broken sprite. She mourned over them one by one and closed their eyes.

  It took time, but she did not employ her magic to remove the women from the crosses. She painstakingly drug each body to the center of the clearing. Next, she gathered the smaller sprites in her arms and deposited them alongside the women. Only then did she employ her magic again. Weeping crystal tears, she commanded the blue fire to consume the dead. In moments, nothing was left but the scorched ground.

  She stumbled blindly from the forest, down a narrow strand of beach to the sea. From the water’s edge, she reached beneath the folds of her cloak to lift the conch shell pendent suspended from her neck. Blue fire flickered from her fingers as she pressed it to her mouth and tipped back her head. She drank.

  She climbed atop a boulder and jack-knifed into the ocean. As her upper body broke the surface of the waters, her legs shimmered with fiery blue light and transformed into a tail of glistening silver and purple scales. Then the sea enveloped her.

  * * *

  By focusing on Willow’s horrific grief, Sven was able to sever the ghost's connection. He blinked and shook himself to clear his mind of the trance.

  "Sven?" Eirik turned from the flames crackling in the firebox to face his brother. His icy blue gaze thawed a few degrees as he silently acknowledged the crisis was passed. He reached for Branwyn who sat trembling on the deck before the fire. She used his strength to pull herself shakily to her feet, still spent from wielding so much magic the past half hour.

  "There was a seventh hooded creature in my vision. He is the one who possessed me." Sven took in the sight of his wife lying limp on the deck and lunged against his bonds. "Loose me at once."

  Her eyelids fluttered open. He gaze locked on hers and held it anxiously as she spoke. "I only encountered six."

  "Aye, because he was already dead. He did not approve of the witch hunt. Having been raised in a rural village far from the nearest city, he understood the value of healers. He neither feared their power nor saw it as a threat like so many do. When he tried to save one of the sprites from the butchering, his leader slew him on the spot. His ghost lingered by the sea, hoping to catch sight of Willow and beg her forgiveness for his part in the attack. He nearly went mad after ten years of waiting."

  "Will the ghost leave you alone now?" Concern crinkled the edges of Eirik's eyes as he unwound his brother's cords, releasing him from the mast.

  "Aye. He died a hero’s death, defending the innocent. Once he revealed to Willow the plight of her people, he hastened to collect his reward." He flexed his arms, slapping and rubbing his wrists to return the circulation to them.

  "What reward?" Branwyn swayed closer and would have pitched forward on her face if her affianced had not caught her and tucked her into his side.

  "It was his e
ntrance into Valhalla, was it not?" Willow stumbled to her feet and fell into her husband's arms. "I glimpsed a pair of enormous golden gates." She cupped his face, her voice unsteady. "He wanted you to accompany him."

  "Aye, but all I wanted was to return to you, love." He savagely claimed her lips, winding his hands in the silken strands of her hair. Between kisses, he muttered, "Your magic hauled me back to our longship, to the here and the now where I belong.”

  When he raised his head, her lips were wonderfully used and swollen, and the naked desire in her gaze made his entire body tighten and ache.

  "The ghost claimed you would be welcome in Valhalla." Wild concern for him chased its way across features. "That you did not have to earn your admission ticket like he had. What did he mean?"

  Branwyn snorted. "Have you told her nothing about yourself, Shadow Walker?"

  His wife emitted a startled gasp at the term.

  "Then again, I suppose you've hardly been married long enough to trade too many secrets."

  He chuckled and swooped in for another kiss—the kind that took awhile and elicited a round of applause from their bystanders.

  "Back to the oars, you blokes," he bawled, but there was no venom in his voice. "Your dawdling gets us no closer to home."

  Willow slid her hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck. "Do not try to change the subject, Viking. Tell me more about this business of shadow walking. I deserve to know what I have gotten myself into by the marrying of you."

  "Fair enough, so long as you remember that you are mine and I am yours and I've no intention of letting you go." He slanted his mouth over hers in another soul-seeking kiss that left her breathless and clinging to him.

  She trailed her fingers down his scarred cheeks. "Surely you can tell I am in no hurry to leave you, rogue. I am simply trying to understand how I managed to marry a man who can pass through the veil.”

  “’Tis no more mysterious than finding oneself married to a woman who can breath above and below the sea."

  "Not anymore," she reminded, a bit of melancholy creeping into her musical voice.

  "Are you certain about that, my love?" He reached into his pocket and dug out the conch shell pendent, which he'd affixed to a newly woven cord the night before. "At first, I feared losing you if I returned it, but I've gained no peace in withholding it either. Every creature deserves a choice. To give and take. To love or hate. To stay or walk away. Otherwise, we are no more than prisoners."

  "Why, Sven!" Her voice trembled with tears as he gently drew her hair aside to affix the pendent around her neck. "You never needed the conch to bind me to you. Though it was forbidden, I could no more stop myself from following your longship than I could stop the sun from rising. There is no stronger bond than love.”

  "You love me?" Wonder gripped him as his hands traveled hungrily down her sides and over the flair of her hips. He yanked her closer. "Tell me again."

  "Aye, you rogue. I love you, though no gentleman would insist I declare it before his entire crew." She lowered her voice. "All the while undressing me with his eyes."

  He bent to nuzzle her earlobe. "Nay, a gentleman would do no such thing, but I am Viking born. A man accustomed to plundering the world's treasures and taking what he wants.”

  She tugged at his beard, to bring their lips closer. "Tell me what you want."

  "Since neither of you seem to mind having an audience," Eirik exploded. "How about we all just agree my blasted brother chose you over a trip to Valhalla? No one doubts 'tis you he wants, lass."

  Her joyous smile was nearly Sven's undoing. “I would prefer to hear the words for myself."

  Pleasure and anticipation spiked through him as her fingers scored a torturous trail of want and need down his chest and lower.

  "I love you," he groaned. "Now. Forever."

  She pressed her lush mouth to his, and he tasted paradise. What sort of man would pine for a trip to the hereafter when everything he wanted was right here in his arms? Aye, he was the bloody luckiest man among the living and the dead.

  <<<>>>

  8

  Sneak Peek of VIKING BY DAY - Vikings Saga #3

  They sailed the final icy corridor leading to New Dorset. A place few people in the world believed existed.

  She stood gripping the ends of her fur cloak in one hand and the dragon’s prow of the longship in the other while anxiously scanning the horizon. The glacial breeze whipped at her hood, sending stray red ringlets across her eyes and cheeks. She swiped them away irritably with a gloved hand, wanting nothing to hinder her view as they sailed into the harbor. She patted the pocket of her overskirt to ensure her elder wood wand was safely tucked away before gripping the prow once more.

  “Bo’sun!” Jarl Eirik, captain of their longship and her affianced, shouted against the blustering winds and held up his hand.

  His adopted brother Sven nodded his understanding to slow their speed.

  It had been more than a year since their band of Vikings laid eyes on the familiar and beloved massive stone coastline. The waters grew increasingly more shallow. Patches of ice as wide as a man’s arm span bobbed on the waves between their ship and the shore.

  Unlike everyone else on the ship—save Sven’s wife, Willow, who was also new to their group—it was her first trip to the mystical city the Vikings claimed as their home. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the deadly boulders of ice.

  Eirik had described a sheltered inlet leading to the city, one so narrow as to render it next to impossible for marauders to detect. Where was it? As far as she could see stretched an unbroken wall of rock more than a hundred feet tall.

  The white capped waters seethed and frothed where they beat against the jagged coast, powerful enough to dash much larger ships than theirs to pieces. Remnants of vessels dotted the route they sailed. Broken masts, shattered hulls, and the covers of rotting chests flapped at them through the ever-thinning waters.

  By the gods! Why wasn’t their longship slowing down further as they approached the wall? A furlong quickly turned into half a furlong. They were running out of time to halt the rig. The jutting cliffs seemed to waver and grow taller as they approached.

  Branwyn blinked hard and squinted, thinking her vision was playing tricks on her. “Eirik!” she cried, reaching for her wand. “Sven!” Why weren’t the men shouting more orders? Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Even if each sailor threw all of his weight into the oars, they might not be able to stop now.

  Her fiancé’s large hands clasped her shoulders as she muttered the first line of a protection spell. “Save your magic, my love.” His baritone resounded against her ear, breaking her concentration.

  Her words faltered, though her overriding sense of alarm bid her to continue the spell.

  “This is the way home. I promise.”

  With that, they sailed straight into the boulders.

  * * *

  VIKING BY DAY, Vikings Saga #3

  <<>>

  Happy reading! —Jo

  About the Author

  I write romance across the genres. The stakes are always high, and the heroes are willing to risk it all for the brilliant, sassy women they love.

  Originally from St. Louis, I’ve served as a corporate trainer, a junior college finance instructor, and a high school business teacher. Along the way, I discovered the only thing I enjoy as much as teaching is writing. Especially writing romance! A typical day finds me on my laptop, a fizzy beverage within reach, and a cat sprawled across my lap (hoping for his first book dedication or at least an honorable mention).

  I love alpha males, strong-minded women, humorous sidekicks, diversity, Vikings, dashing lords, vampires, zombies, cyborgs…you get the idea.

  To receive announcements about new releases, book signings, sneak peeks at free chapters and deleted scenes, giveaways, and other festivities, sign up for my newsletter at www.JoGrafford.com.

  Stay in touch!

 
@JoGrafford

  JoGraffordAuthor

  www.JoGrafford.com

  Also by Jo Grafford

  LOST COLONY SERIES

  Breaking Ties

  Trail of Crosses

  * * *

  VIKINGS SAGA

  Viking For Hire

  Viking Born

  Viking By Day

  Viking In Death (coming in 2016)

  Viking Forever (coming in 2016)

  * * *

  FOR YOU SERIES

  Designed For You

  Hired for You (coming in 2016)

  Crazy For You (coming in 2016)