by J. A. Pitts
But how to get there?
Fifty-nine
MIST BEGAN TO RISE FROM THE EARTH, THE CHILL MOISTURE that had always reminded me of ghosts. This dawn would not dispel that fantasy.
Out farther than any other, a lone figure walked, kneeling, working. I strode in that direction.
Stuart moved among the bodies, one at a time, friend and foe alike. I watched him, shy about breaking his solitude, but pacing him. When he found a SCAdian, he checked them, desperate to find them alive.
It was painted on his face, the momentary hope then the black acceptance. He would close their eyes, cross himself, then rise, planting a spear in the ground to mark their fall.
He carried a thin bundle of short spears, each trailing a small white flag.
I don’t know how many he started with, but he would run out all too soon. I glanced back along his path. The flags were thick across the field.
The enemy he bypassed without a pause, until he found one alive. The troll had been wounded. Who knows if it would have recovered.
Stuart did not hesitate. He stepped forward, knelt on the troll’s chest, and drove the spear into its throat.
He saw me then, looked into my eyes, and dared me to question him.
I just nodded and turned aside. Who was I to judge him?
I paused at the wreckage of the first chopper and recovered the sling and scabbard from the giant’s dead hand.
Once I had the sword in the rig correctly over my right shoulder, I walked on to the tree line, massaging my left arm. Carrying that sword for so long was tiring.
Past the tended fields, deeper into the woods that ran wild along the back of Jimmy’s border, I found what I was looking for.
There in a clearing, I discovered another legend, another fantasy come true. Three winged horses were picketed there, munching on fresh green grass. They were outfitted in fine white leather harnesses and saddles of ermine. Add in a kitty cat with huge brown eyes, and I would have melted on the spot.
Of course, I was not alone. I had seen two Valkyries, but there were three horses, so there had to be another around.
She could wait, as far as I was concerned. I wanted to meet these beautiful horses. One let me approach, even nuzzled my hand when I raised it to her nose.
“You are stunning,” I said, running my hand down her neck to where the wings joined her back, just below the withers.
She let me lift her front leg to inspect the hoof.
Sue me. Professional curiosity.
“Does she meet with your approval?” a woman asked, stepping from the deeper shadows beneath the trees.
I lowered the hoof gently, patting the horse on the shoulder. “Shoes are in good shape, the hoof is trimmed nicely.”
“High praise from a smith such as yourself,” she said, reaching out and placing her left hand on the horse closest to her. “We love them as the children we will never see again,” she said, almost in a whisper.
“They are remarkable,” I said, meaning it. I had never seen finer horses. And let’s not get started on the whole wing thing. My inner eleven-year-old was about to wet herself.
The Valkyrie bowed, placing her right hand on her chest. “Gunnr, at your service.”
Service, eh? I nodded at her. “There is a service I am in need of,” I said.
“You seek the wyrm,” she said, eyeing me.
I nodded.
“And you think I should let you take one of our children, one of our light into this folly?”
What could I really say to that?
She watched me, assessing. “What thinks you, mortal? What madness afflicts you to pursue this course?”
I stepped away from the horses and drew Gram, laying the blade across my right arm.
She craned her head forward, staring at the sword. I waited.
“That bears his mark,” she said.
“That is not all,” I said, flipping the sword up and slipping it back into its scabbard. “There is this.” I took a step toward her pushing my bangs up off my forehead.
She stepped closer, tracing the runes on my scalp with one long, thin finger.
“And this,” I said, turning, holding my calf up, pushing the cut jeans to either side.
“These are different,” she said, kneeling. She cupped my shin in one hand and ran her hand down my calf.
Her touch sent shock waves rippling through my body. The delicate way her fingers traced the runes on my calf caused my heart to skip a beat.
“Kenaz is emboldened,” she said, tracing the rune, trailing her fingers along its path.
“Hum . . . hmmm . . . ,” I said, clearing my throat and pulling my leg away from her. “Mad enough for you?”
She stood, staring into my face.
Her eyes were the blue of a jay’s egg, crisp like a winter’s morn. If I reached out and touched her, I think she would not mind.
“You are comely,” she whispered, reaching out and tracing a finger down my left cheek from the runes to my chin. “Not unpleasing in the least.”
“Yeah, well . . . ,” I stammered, blinking.
Nothing like getting hit on by a Valkyrie.
Her lips were the color of winterberries, red and plump. I could imagine the way they would taste. I imagined the way the muscles along her neck would feel under my lips.
“Is it hot in here?” I asked, stepping back and rubbing my hand across my cheek.
Gunnr shook her head, as if giving up a dream. “You may ask of me,” she said, stepping forward.
I stepped back again, just out of her reach.
“Anything,” she said, her voice husky with need.
Holy cats. What had I gotten myself into?
“This is a little over my head,” I said, stepping back again, pacing her movement. “You are way out of my league.”
“But you are receptive, I can feel it.”
My pulse was definitely quickening. “I’m sorry,” I said, stepping around the rear end of one of the horses, putting the elegant beast between us. “I’m spoken for.”
Gunnr’s expression melted, a pained look sweeping aside the teasing and the joy. The sadness that painted her face was like a punch in the heart.
“You reject me?” she asked, dropping her arms and bowing her head. “I have become anathema.”
Oh, the drama. “No, no,” I said hurriedly, sidestepping along the horse, trailing my hand over her shoulder and along her face. “You are beautiful beyond words.”
She did not turn to me, but kept her head bowed. After a moment, I realized she was crying.
You really have a way with women, Sarah.
I continued my circuit around the horse, and stood behind her now, feeling like the fool.
“Honest,” I said, crossing my arms across my breasts, tucking my fingers under my arms. “You’re definitely hot.”
She sniffled and turned her head halfway, glancing back at me.
If not for Katie, that look, that vulnerable beauty would have won the day. As it was, I began thinking of different types of coal to keep out otherwise overwhelming thoughts.
“You do not jest with me?” she asked, turning farther toward me. “Having a play at my expense?”
“Oh, lord no,” I said. This much attention from anyone else but Katie was very uncomfortable. Nice, but scary. “I can think of worse ways to spend an evening.”
This brought a smile to her face.
I closed my eyes, thinking of Katie. This creature was a rare beauty. Powerful and intoxicating.
I felt her aura and opened my eyes. She’d stepped forward, invading my personal space. She smelled of leather and cloves.
“A kiss, then,” she said, the words tripping off her lips in a soft buzz.
I gulped, trying to keep it together. “Pardon?”
“That is the price,” she said, touching her tongue to her lips, wetting them slowly. “One kiss, and you may take Meyja to pursue your folly.”
One kiss, she says. I drew a breath, into
xicated by her scent. Would one kiss betray Katie? Would she care?
“Best decide soon,” Gunnr whispered. “He flees with his remaining strength.”
I’d never find him later, and if he returned to his home base, it would be like rooting out a badger with a spork.
“One kiss,” I said, knowing I was doomed. “That’s all . . .”
And she melted into me, her lips like honey, her skin smooth as silk.
I forgot myself for a moment, lost in the sheer pleasure of that one kiss.
Later, I would remember it as a dream. But in the moment, it was victory and release, ecstasy and fulfillment.
An eternity later, I drew back, gasping for breath.
“Katie,” I whispered.
Gunnr’s smile turned to a frown, and she stepped back, her hand sliding from around my hip. How she’d got it under the chain shirt and against my bare skin, I had no memory, but the second her hand left the small of my back, an ache shuddered through me.
“You love her, truly,” she said with a sigh. “It is unfortunate.”
I stood there, mouth agape, trying to remember my own name. She walked over, untied a long lead from the tree nearest the horses, and brought it over, placing it in my hands. For the briefest of moments, she held my hands between her own and stared into my eyes.
“You have but to call, smith. Whisper my name in the night and I will ride to you.”
Of that I had no doubt.
I stepped into the stirrup while Gunnr steadied Meyja. I took up the reins and turned her away from the farm. Just down the hill, the valley opened up, and I could take wing.
Holy crap, I was gonna fly!
Gunnr placed her hand on my knee, squeezing softly. “He rages,” she said, looking up at me. “Do not take Meyja into battle. Ride low and set down a distance away. Sneak up on him as he thrashes about.”
“Aye,” I said, gently patting her hand, and pushing it off my knee as subtly as I could. “I will not bring this beautiful creature to harm.”
“She is my heart,” Gunnr said. “Bring her back to me.”
I reached down and brushed her cheek.
She leaned into my palm, capturing my hand with her own, holding it against her face. “I will count the moments until your return,” she said, taking my hand away from her face and kissing the palm.
“Right . . . hum, hmmmm . . . yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I have to go kill a dragon now.”
She stepped back, her face serious again. “Yes, of course. The foul wyrm must pay for his centuries of deprivation.”
“At least,” I said, and turned Meyja with my knee.
We walked only a few steps, when Gunnr called out to us. “Warrior, wait.”
She ran up, holding out a shield. “Take this,” she said, holding it so I could loop my arm through the leather strap.
It was tall, really a tower shield, which would cover the greater part of my right side. If I didn’t have a second weapon, a shield was a good addition.
“Thank you, Gunnr.”
She bowed, touching two fingers to her forehead. “Be safe, warrior.”
Warrior it was now. Before, I was smith. I don’t know if I’d been promoted or demoted.
I nudged Meyja into a gallop, figuring speed was required to fly. At the edge of the hill, she loped into the air, her great wings rising and falling.
The ride was amazing. Magical. My only regret was I couldn’t share it with Katie.
Yes, I remembered Katie.
I held the reins in my shield hand and reached back, pulling Gram free from her sheath.
“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. “Let’s find us a dragon.”
Sixty
WE FLEW NORTH BY NORTHEAST FOR TWENTY MINUTES BEfore I felt a good solid tug on the sword. We were on the trail. And I could feel water. He was definitely near water.
The tilled farms scrolled below us, getting smaller and smaller as we gained altitude. I’m not sure how high we went, but I never had trouble breathing. A time or three we flew through clouds, which were not fluffy in the predawn sky. They were dark and wet, soaking through my jeans and quilted cuirass.
If the dragon didn’t kill me, I’d likely end up with pneumonia.
The sky to the east had begun to lighten, the first rays of the sun scoring the cloud cover in hues the Easter bunny would be proud of—blues, purples, pinks, and all shades in between.
Frankly, I was surprised I didn’t see a news chopper or airplane anywhere around me. Definitely over the more rural parts of the county. Once we crossed Woods Creek I thought I had him, so I sheathed Gram and gave my arm a rest.
Lake Chaplain was good sized, only about a quarter the size of Lake Sammamish, but big enough.
“Come on, Meyja. Let’s take ’er down a bit and see what we can see.”
She whickered and tossed her head, but angled down. We passed through a thick layer of clouds and the predawn darkness rose around us once again. When you fly high enough, the day starts sooner. I liked that.
I could see the lake coming up in the distance, and my stomach began to tighten. Already most of my body hurt from the fighting, and that whole getting hit thing.
Add in the flying horse, and now my thighs were screaming at me.
I’d be hobbling for a while after this, that’s for sure. Like any of it would matter soon enough. I was taking a sword to a dragon fight. My odds of survival were pretty damn low. The sword sang to me, though—filling me with bravado and hope. Gram was made to kill dragons. I knew this now with all my heart. That’s why Frederick wanted it, even if he couldn’t articulate what drew him to the power. Nidhogg likely wanted it, if she was aware of its existence. Jean-Paul just wanted it so no one else could have it. That much had been made clear.
The fact he never touched it was the final clue. I could kill him with it, if I could survive long enough. So many had died already because of that bastard. I wasn’t going to let him walk or fly away and spread his terror elsewhere. He was going down.
I didn’t notice the smoke until we were almost to Lake Chaplain. I’m not sure what caused me to look back, but a quick glance showed me the thin black smudge above Lost Lake. We flew right over him in all that cloud cover. He wasn’t at Lake Chaplain at all. The sneaky bastard.
I turned Meyja and we banked south, toward the smoke. I drew Gram again, and immediately a teeth-grating thrum ran up my arm.
We settled in a clearing about a mile from Lost Lake. Meyja touched down with a soft, graceful landing that I hardly felt. “She takes you into battle?” I asked, patting her neck. “A beauty like you?”
Meyja threw her head back and nickered. I slid from her back and surveyed the field to the north.
“Seems safe enough,” I said, grabbing for the lead. Meyja had other ideas. She tossed her head and ran across the field like a shot. I stumbled forward about three paces, and my thighs and ass just couldn’t take it. I stopped, cramping up, and slipped Gram back into her sheath.
Stretching was in order. I spent a few minutes keeping an eye on Meyja and stretching out my thighs and calves. A bit of yoga can do wonders.
When I could move without crying, I picked up the shield and walked out into the field.
“Come on, Meyja. Don’t be a bitch.”
She danced across the field for a moment, head high, tail in the air. Sassy. I covered my mouth to hide the smile. She was amazing to just watch. After a minute, she turned back to me, settling under a pine on the edge of the open field.
“He’s just over at Lost Lake,” I told her, running my fingers through her mane. “If I’m not back in a while, you head on back to—” I paused. Didn’t really want to say her name. I had enough unwanted attention.
Seriously.
“—that woman,” I whispered. “You understand?”
She bowed her head and let me rub her ears. Then she bumped me with her nose, pushing me away.
“Okay, okay,” I said, holding up one hand. “I can take a hint
.”
I turned, picked up the shield, and drew Gram.
“Wabbit time,” I muttered. “Come out and play, Jean-Paul. I have many debts to settle with you.”
I crept through the underbrush for a bit, but came upon a hiking trail soon enough.
Hope there wasn’t anyone at the lake this morning.
Gram kept me on a steady course, running down to the lake. At a quarter mile I could hear the dragon—Jean-Paul—thrashing about. Sometimes I heard water, and others I heard his shrieking rage, and the crash of trees.
The trail ended at a park. Benches and tables were strewn along the beach, many of them smashed.
Several cabins around the bend of the lake were burning. If they held anyone, they were beyond my reach. I skirted along the forest line, not wanting to cross open ground just yet.
Out in the lake I could see several small boats sunken in the shallows. Out a little farther floated a scattering of busted wooden decking. Likely the end of the broken pier and boathouse smashed to bits by his nibs.
I watched him from hiding. He stormed up and down the beach, hobbled and wounded.
It was pissing him off. He’d limp along a few strides, practically dragging his right hindquarter, and he’d stop, throw his head into the air and roar. Let him tire himself out, my internal logic said. Give him a bit longer.
On his next pass down the beach, he held his head high into the air and sniffed, scanning the tree line.
I fell, dropping into a ditch beside the trail. He snorted, growled, and turned to walk into the water.
When the water was up to his front shoulder, he bent and drank.
Drank, and it had been hours since I’d touched water. An ache flooded through me. It’s like my cells had suddenly shrunk, dehydrated. My tongue felt like an old sock, and my eyes hurt from lack of sleep and too much smoke. One little drink could fix that right up.
Down the beach, near the burning cabins, there was a concrete building that remained standing. I could see he’d smashed in one side, but concrete didn’t burn, and wasn’t worth his time, apparently.
On the side of that building stood a public water fountain.
Looked like heaven to me.
I watched him for another moment and then crept farther along the trees toward the building. He was drinking so noisily, I could tell where he was without seeing him. I dashed across the soft lawn and pressed my body against the back wall.