then take the ridges. We’ll be above but out of sight, and we could use that as an advantage too. Our bows can take them and the height, like the tree heights, would make it almost impossible for them to hit our bows with arrows of their own. That will leave them crowding together, and harried.”
“The gods,” Dagmar said.
Aila frowned. “What?”
He smiled. “We don’t know what gods they worship but whatever gods they have, they must have some sort of powers. Yesterday, when you made the wind and ice they were afraid but they kept coming. They kept coming because they were more afraid of their leaders than you. In their faces I could see they wanted to stop, that they feared something unnatural like that, but they feared their leaders more still. What if we give them something much more frightening than their leaders to fear?”
Aila asked, “What do you mean?”
His grin got wider. “The rocks. If we stay behind the largest stones we could rain the heavy ones in front of the ridge down on them. The largest stones could crush many there in the spot where the hills form a neck. They’d have to push toward the bog then. If they thought their god was angry and raining down those things it might be enough to make them break and run.”
Ragnic said, “They’d think this land was unholy.”
Dagmar nodded, “Aye. Then all we would have is perhaps a third of their ranks to deal with. We have enough arrows and swords to decide a battle, even if it is not in our favor, but if the soldiers are already frightened and worried that the gods they favor do not favor them we’d probably defeat them.”
Aila said, “That’s a brilliant plan.”
He nodded. “You should we could disguise ourselves with nature. We must, and we must do so quickly. That blue paste we make to color our faces during ceremonies, is there enough here to make it?”
Ragnic said, “But of course.”
Dagmar smiled. “Then let’s do it. Hurry, we have a very little time to prepare. Everyone, eat well of what we have. We need our strength and, gods willing, by tonight we’ll at least be able to hunt down food.”
They all went to work. Aila set to making the thick blue paste out of a few handfuls of crushed berries, a scoop of mineral-laden earth, and water.
They painted their faces and arms, drawing on the symbols and signs of the old ways. They adorned their heads with leaves and covered their bodies with brown earth to further disguise themselves. The swords were hidden in their tunics to keep the enemy from seeing them shining in the sun, and then they were ready.
They headed toward the high ridges, leaving Ragnic with the worst wounded and instructions for him to take them to the high caves in the tall hills far to the west. He hadn’t wanted to stay behind but he would, and so would those too gravely wounded to do more than make it to those caves.
There were caches of food in the caves as they were used for hunting parties and to make camps there, and nearby water. They could survive there if they were careful and lucky, and Aila hoped that they were both as they parted ways.
They climbed the hills, staying low. The Romans had indeed headed east as they’d hoped they would. They were marching two by two between the high ridge and Aila took a long breath at the sheer number of them.
Even after the battle of the day before there were so many!
Dagmar and the others began testing the boulders. They found the ones most likely to tumble and then, in unison, they sent nearly two dozen large and crushing boulders down the ridge toward the soldiers.
There was nowhere for them to go. The hills closed in on either side of the little pass. They were pinned in place by the men behind and before them and the cries were terrible as death rolled toward them and took them.
“Up the hill,” the commander shouted.
“There’s nobody there!” The cry came from a man who was near the end of the line of bloody boulders. “There’s nobody Sir! It must have been a natural thing!”
The ones behind could not easily pass by the crushed and broken bodies nor the boulders. The men had to move them to get the way clear.
Just as they finished the herculean task the Picts rained down another two dozen from the shifting soil at the top of the hill being careful to stay low and hidden as they did so.
More Romans died. None of them dared peek over at to look to see the damage, they put their backs against the stones and listened intently. The Romans had to struggle to remove the boulders again in order to get past them and the sun was climbing higher the entire time.
Dagmar waited until they could hear the sound of the soldiers marching and then he said, “Softly now.”
They moved slowly, hiding behind the rocks and crouching low. Aila’s thighs ached from the exertion and sweat ran down her face, heavily caked with the paste. The sun climbed again and hawks and carrion birds circled overhead then dove toward the Roman dead. Her stomach churned but she stayed silent.
War. It was inevitable. She’d known that, her whole life she had known that and they had seen it before but never like this and she was already sickened and weary of it.
There’d be more.
That thought clung to her and settled into her bones.
These Romans, they were not capable of walking away from this. They were driven to claim the lands that were Pictland, and they wouldn’t stop.
They outnumbered the Picts by a large number, and that would always be so, but they were never going to simply come onto the land and take, not if she could help it.
And she’d never be easy about it. She’d never go gladly into the battle like some would. She would always be saddened and disgusted by the death and the waste of it all.
Those men down there were her enemies yes, but they were humans, and she had been raised to believe life was sacred.
But she’d also been raised by people who believed in battling for what they had to battle for. And what she had to battle for was her people, and the lives that they would lead her on this land.
The Romans headed for the bog at the end. Dagmar whispered, “Can you send just a little cold down?”
She bit her lips. “I can try.”
The small wind she brought up was icy. It whipped down on the Romans from the hills. They grew nervous and began to break ranks, moving closer together as they neared the bog. Aila could see that her people had climbed the hill to skirt the bog, and she knew that if she could see that Romans would notice it too. She hoped by the time that they did it would be too late.
They would come up the hill soon, and there they would fight them, but they needed to cut their numbers before that happened.
She followed the freezing wind with a heated one.
The soldiers grew even more nervous and they walked faster. The bog, covered by a deceptive layer of bright yellow flowers and emerald green grasses, gave way under their weight.
Dozens of men sank. They thrashed and screamed. The bog could be gotten out of, but only if one stood very still and was helped out by others. Those marching from behind pushed the ones nearest the front further into the bog and when they realized what was happening many had already been sucked into the deadly mud below the surface.
It was time. They drew their bows and began to rain down arrows. Aila sent a few down, making sure to use each one wisely. They’d likely not be able to retrieve them, and each arrow had to count as there were no more.
The Romans stared upward at the blue-coated people on the hills. Boulders, arrows, and spears sent death into their midst and Aila decided to add a little more to the mix. Rain flashed up and soaked the soldiers below. Confused, unsure of which way to go and facing certain death they stood still for precious moments, and it was all that the Picts needed.
The Romans eventually charged up the hill. But they were defeated before they ever started. Aila sent a vicious wind at them, one so strong it toppled many of them back into the bog and the ground around it.
Those that made it up the hill died at the end of the swords and arrows tha
t they wielded. The sky turned dark, and Aila sensed a storm brewing, one not of her making. Thunder rumbled and the ground shook with the force of it.
The Romans broke and ran. They watched them go through the thick curtains of rain that fell from the sky. Aila lifted her head and let the water sluice over her body and face and wash away the gore and fear.
Dagmar came to where she stood. His arms held her close and she buried her face in his chest and she inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill her nostrils and steady her.
The storm stopped abruptly. She stepped back and said, “They aren’t going to stay gone.”
He nodded. “I know. We can’t go back to Hail. There’s too many Romans who will come and who know that is where we are. It’s too open, and too near the points where they can and will enter our lands.”
Sorrow filled her. Not go back to the Hail? To their land and the things that they had built there? They’d have to start over. They had fewer hands now, and many were wounded. Summer had already begun, and there would be much to gather and store before the winter stormed in, and they had no shelter to speak of either.
The Romans would come back though, and they would go straight to Hail, expecting to find them there.
She nodded, “As you say. You lead, and we will all follow Dagmar.”
His eyes lit up. His hand took hers. “We’ll lead. Come on, let’s go find out daughter and the others.”
Aila said, “Send whatever runner we have that is capable to tell Ragnic we need him to bring the men to the camp our people made.”
He said, “I’m afraid you’re the only one fast enough to do that.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to leave him, not now, but it was the best thing to do. She nodded. “It will take a day at least with the wounded.”
He nodded. “We won’t leave without you.”
“Oh you’d better not.” Her eyes sparkled and she gave him a deep kiss then stepped back. “I’ll see you soon my darling.”
She started toward the west and the caves with hope growing anew.
**
It was a weary and battered group that limped into the camp that their people had set up. The wounded were immediately taken to the rudimentary shelters that had been built and Aila sat down gratefully in front of a large fire and accepted a large chunk of meat, still warm, and a few roasted roots and herbs.
Dagmar sat beside her, his arm draped over her. Neither spoke for a long time. When her appetite was sated he said, “We have to call a meeting of our people Aila. We can’t stay here, there’s not enough game or grains growing nearby and we’re still too close to the Romans.”
She nodded. “The ones we defeated have larger numbers behind them. I could see smoke in Hail, enough to tell me that they have taken it for their own.”
He sighed, “Hail’s gone now. But we will have a new home.”
They would. Her hand found his and she said, “We always have a home. I have a home in you, and you have a home in me.”
Ceana came running, her little face alight with joy. Aila clutched her close and ran her fingers over the child’s hair. She whispered, “I love you little one. I am so glad to see you.”
Ceana leaned back and said, “I’m glad to see you too Mama.”
She snuggled into Aila’s arms and Dagmar embraced them both. The fire cast heavy shadows across his face and she studied it, seeing the new strength and weariness carved into his flesh. There were fresh lines around his eyes and mouth, and there was an air of wisdom and experience about him that had been there before, but still growing.
He’d become more than the man their people needed. He’d become a wise and mature ruler, one who put the needs and lives of his people before his own.
She took a long breath as the others gathered and Dagmar said, “We must move. We can’t go back to Hail. The Romans hold it now.”
Tears streamed down faces already tight with strain but mostly there were nods of assent. Ragnic asked, “Where will we go?”
“Far North.” Dagmar said, “The Romans will spend much time building this south side of the lands. They will advance, yes, but by then we will have had time to birth our children, and build a place we can defend.”
Breslin said, “We cannot rebuild hail, or anything like it. They’ll come after it sooner if we do.”
“Agreed,” Dagmar said. “I think we should stay hidden in the high lands, make our homes in the quietest of places, away from the sea. That’s where they will sail in from, and land.”
There was more silence. The sea had always been in their blood and what he was suggesting was strange and frightening. Aila asked, “But what about the fish and the other things we need from the sea to survive?’
“Hunting parties,” Dagmar said. “Or rather fishing parties. We must be able to hide and fight in a land that we know, and we need shelter and food for the winter. Summer has not yet crested up that way so we would still have time to gather and hunt for winter. We can make a few large shelters for now, and stay together in them. We don’t have the time to make many shelters, we need all the time we can spare to make it through winter.”
They all agreed. There was nothing else they could do and Dagmar’s plan had real merit. As the weary people began to prepare for their journey Northward in the morning Aila turned to Dagmar. “You were right.”
“I will never get tired of hearing you say that,” he teased. “But I have to admit that I am at a loss as to what it is that I am right about.”
“All of it, though I must say I will miss the sea more than I will care to.”
“You were always the best of the fishers anyway.”
She laughed. “Do you remember the day I went fishing and got angry because I didn’t know you had already given half a boar to our people’s fire?”
“You were so angry at me,” his fingers brushed the hair away from her face so that his bright blue eyes could look into her gray ones. “And I was so angry at you too. Mostly because you seemed to ignore me when I wanted to romp with you, which was always.”
She laughed. “I have not ignored you that way for a long time. But what I meant was you were right. We can birth our children. Our child. I’m with child again.”
His eyes lit up. “Are you really?”
“Yes, and I feel sure that this time, it is a son. I don’t know why but I feel certain that a son is what this one shall be.”
His hand rested against her cheek. Ceana muttered sleepily from her perch in Aila’s lap and Dagmar asked, “What shall we name him?”
She smiled, “I was thinking Merlin.”
Overhead the sky brightened and a single magnificent hawk rode the wind. Dagmar looked up at the raptor and said, “Yes. Merlin.”
Their eyes and hands met. Their smiles grew. Aila knew that no matter what came next she would face it willingly and gladly, and with Dagmar at her side. THE END
Desired By The Alien King
Meredith was groggy, her head felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds and each of her limbs was tingling with pins and needles. She struggled to open her eyes. Managing to open them just a crack she squinted against the harsh overhead light.
“Hello?” The light bounced off the white walls and ricocheted around the empty room. Meredith lay in a crumpled heap, her knee length cotton nightgown pooling around her. “Hello? Is anybody there?” Her questions were met with nothing but silence. She opened her eyes fully, blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the effusion of light from above.
The room was completely empty with the exception of her corpulent body sitting directly in its center. Each of the walls was solid, painted white and there was no indication whatsoever of a door or window. Meredith looked down at her bare feet. How had she got here? And more to the point, where was here?
Outside the room there was a frantic scurrying of feet. The Kalar foot soldiers shuffled quickly about as they made preparations for their king’s celebration. Meredith’s muffled shouts barely made it through the thick
walls and even when they did, they went unnoticed by her preoccupied abductors.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Silence. “If you kidnapped me for money you’re going to be really disappointed!” Her fear had given way to anger. Shielding her eyes she looked up at the ceiling, it was only moments before she found what she was looking for – a small camera. She stared directly at it. “I don’t know who you are, but you could at least do me the courtesy of a glass of water!” She glared at the camera, tangles of her long blonde hair sticking to the side of her face. A few moments later the sound of movement came, it was followed by the sliding open of a small hatch at the bottom of one of the walls. Meredith watched in amazement as a small robot came towards her offering a glass of water. She took it, sniffed it and presuming that it was safe, drank the whole glass. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure why she was thanking the machine, but she found herself doing it nonetheless. The robot stood with its arm held outward and as soon as Meredith placed her empty glass back in its hand, it rolled back in to the wall. The hatch closed and Meredith was once again alone.
Behind the controls of the small camera sat a relatively short for his species and slender Kalar guard. His tanned sucker tipped fingers nudged the camera control stick once in a while as he zoomed in on Meredith’s pale white face. He couldn’t help but stare, he’d never seen anyone from the planet Earth in person before. Sure, there were rumors that some of the more wealthy Kalarians had human brides, but even working in the palace he had never seen one for himself. He wondered if all Earth women were so round.
“Placan?” The guard turned from his screen to find his shift relief standing behind him.
“Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows.
“Why do you stare at the King’s new bride?” Placan turned back to the camera and eyed Meredith.
“She is not his new bride yet, Tevar.” Tevar came closer to get a good look at the human woman.
“Soon she will be and your ogling will be punishable by death.” Placan knew this, but there was something about the human woman that drew him in. She was so different to the Kalarians.
Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3) Page 49