by G L Roberts
“As would you,” Arryn said. He got up on the dragon.
“Bring him back safe,” Bryn said to FireSong. She smiled up at Arryn then turned back to Thalynder. She watched as Thalynder ran her hands over her tunic. A sign, Bryn had come to know, meant Thalynder was nervous. Bryn walked over and took Thalynder’s hands in hers.
“Do not fret, my Lynder,” she said. “I sincerely believe Hansa comes to talk.”
“And her father comes to kill,” Thalynder said. “You walk the edge between too closely for my taste. I fear for your safety, which, I know, is silly with Meydra as your companion.”
“Still, you worry.” Bryn raised Thalynder’s hands and kissed the top of each hand. “Your father at my side should give you a reason to fear less. He is still the able swordsman and a competent captain.”
“You are as well, but I still worry.”
Bryn leaned in and kissed Thalynder’s lips. “Do not worry, overmuch, my love. Leave the worrying to me.”
“What do you want from Hansa?”
“A chance to make a difference,” Bryn said. “I want to hear her words, and I want her to consider mine.”
“Then, I will entertain the king’s daughter while you entertain the king. Do you think he will listen?”
“No.” Bryn walked Thalynder over to An-Yun. An-Yun bowed her head. “I expect him to fight. I have expected nothing less of him from the beginning. It is why the strongest of the armies is riding west to Hinder Ross. We will meet Heardred with our strength. Go now, Arryn awaits you.”
“Do take great care, my Bryn.” Thalynder mounted An-Yun’s neck. “I would be lost without you.”
Bryn smiled up at Thalynder. “And I, you.” Bryn touched An-Yun’s forehead with her own. “Fly swift An-Yun. The sun is rising, and the day holds new threats.”
She is in your care now, keep her safe, Bryn said to An-Yun’s heart.
For you and for Alban, An-Yun replied.
Bryn watched as An-Yun approached the hill where FireSong rose up to meet her. She saw the two dragons turn east and continued to wait until they were little dots on the horizon. She turned away and walked over to Meydra. Bryn ran her hands over the gray scales. She closed her eyes and continued to run her hands over Meydra’s scales. As the sun broke the horizon, the gray scales took on another color and silver flashes danced across Meydra’s body. Bryn opened her eyes and smiled at Meydra. “I knew there was more to you than first impressions.”
Meydra snorted. “It is time for the rest of the world to see dragons as they see themselves.”
“Magnificent beings of the purest starlight.” As Bryn took a step back from Meydra, the Jewel at her forehead became visible. It twinkled and sparkled with bits of sunlight. Bryn allowed the Jewel to remain visible. Together she and Meydra rivaled the sun as it rose in the morning sky. Bryn got up on Meydra’s neck and kissed the top of Meydra’s head.
“We fly first to Thamen at Scurr Mor. From there we ride to meet Heardred at the Inbhir Ross.”
“Heardred will not yield,” Meydra said.
“Then, he will die.”
❦
The sunrise was bright and swift —as if the sun knew there was urgency in the day. No clouds obscured the yellow light as the sun rose higher. Hansa felt the morning air warming with the sun’s rays, and she took a deep breath. She saw the headlands of Alban ahead of her boat and felt her heart beating hard in her chest. Six weeks at sea and here now on the wind was a breath of Spring and a promise of renewal.
“Will she agree to talk with me?” she asked the wind.
“She is a druid, after all,” Conri said. “That is enough to start the conversation.”
Hansa turned to see Conri standing behind her. He too was looking toward Alban and the cleft in the headlands. It was the entrance to the river the Alban’s called Nis. Hansa looked away from Conri. She ran her hand over the shield she held with her left hand. Her fingers found the dragon jewel, and they traced the edge of the gem.
“I told the elders I would leave this with them. Instead, I was told to take it and another item with me.”
“It was an error in judgment that had you its keeper in the first place,” Conri said. “That gem is not yours.”
“I mean to give it back. It is an offering to the shieldmaiden. Something for the shieldmaiden to have to remember the little dragon.”
Conri smiled. “You are not all you make yourself out to be, are you?”
“If you mean a Norseman, fierce and hateful? I do wear the armor on the outside.”
“And the inside?”
“I have seen this Alban. It is a beautiful country. It has beautiful people. I have never seen a conflict between their tribes. I want this for Götaland.”
“It has taken many years for the clanns of Alban to come to this current peace. It will take a feat beyond your skill to bring this life to Götaland,” Conri said. “Still, it is a good thought worthy of further study.”
“Further study. Do druids do nothing else but study and read?”
“What better way to fully understand all aspects of a question,” Conri replied.
❦
Situated between the outer islands and the high mountains of central Alban, the West coast was best reached by boat. Untroubled by harsh weather and outside invaders, the villages that dotted the western coast from the far north at Stoer, to the southern tip at Keil, were rich with vast fields of golden grain. The rolling hills were home to deer, rabbit, and horse, where they ran wild across miles of unbroken meadows. The calm waters off the coast teemed with sea life; seal, otter, fish and sea birds. It was this western side of Alban the majority of the druid clanns settled when the North began to be invaded by the tribes from the country across the North Sea. Bryn understood all of this. She also knew getting the word out now to the West villages that their homes were no longer safe from invasion, would be no small task. The West was not prepared for battle.
Clann Brae was the last clann to leave the northern islands and seek refuge under the king of a mainland Alban realm. They had met and contended with the Norse raiders many times and had lost many brave men and women to their axes and spears. For Clann Brae, it was safety in numbers they sought. Hoping to someday return to their northern home, and the High Seat of the Druids, Skerrabrae.
Skerrabrae—home now to wrens and terns, once flourished under the steady hands of the Clann Brae elders. Fields of rye and barley once ringed the village, and bread and mead were plentiful. The young were taught at an early age to catch and clean fish. Seaweed soups with chunks of salted fish brightened even the stormiest of winter nights. Seal skins from the backs of those seals whose life had finally come to an end lined the floors of the clann’s homes. Peat taken from the moors and stored in rock cairns kept the hearths ablaze with light and warmth. Story stones graced each mantelpiece and were often a source of enrichment during the long dark winter nights. The stories taught the young the meaning of their heritage and their place as druids. Tales of druids who went east, over the sea to take their teachings to the tribes of the unknown lands.
Bryn had paid close attention to those stories. They fascinated her, and she often had dreams of living those stories. The brave women who battled the elements to save a deer with an injured leg. The young girls and boys who studied the wind and the rain and could best choose when to plant the next crop. The elders with their vast knowledge of the sea. Bryn wanted it all within reach. At Skerrabrae, she had them all. When the clann had to leave Skerrabrae and move to the main island of Alban, the then three-year-old Bryn’s heart broke. As her family boarded the long flat ferry which would take them across to the mainland, she turned and looked back at the sharp stones that dotted the cliffs of her home. She vowed to one day return and bring Skerrabrae back to life.
Bryn had returned a few times to her old home at Skerrabrae. Once on a pilgrimage to the Standing Stones of Staenis and judgment by the Elf-Sisters, the second time to retrieve a dragon’s egg and witnes
s the birth of Meriel. The last time, to heal the hurt at the loss of Meriel. Now, she soared high above the empty homes. She and Meydra circled the center meeting house, and Bryn felt a tug at her heart. There is still so much to be recovered, she thought.
“Take me to the hill, Meydra. I wish to speak with the others.”
Meydra circled down to the hill behind the village. Several dragons stood in the twilight, ever guarding the secret of the cairn below them. Meydra stepped down and waited while Bryn came off her neck.
“My friends,” Bryn began. “Meydra and I go to meet the boats moving now around Alban’s north shore to the West coast. You will hear the call of many dragons before this fight is over. You must not heed the call. Your duty here at the cairn of the unborn is by far the more important. You guard the next generation of dragons. If these precious gems are lost, yours will be the last generation this world will see. Keep your eyes on all horizons and remain steadfast here on this hill. I will return.”
The dragons bowed to Bryn. She walked out to those gathered on the hill and touched each one as she passed them. Her touch released the inner dragon, and the hillside began to shimmer as if lit by a million candles.
Bryn climbed back onto Meydra’s neck. “Swiftly now, Meydra, King Thamen will be at Scurr Mor by morning, and we must be there to meet him.”
Meydra lifted above the hill. She circled once, then turned flew west toward the enemy.
The other Norse fleet consisting of three fully laden boats and led by Heardred had moved north and was now passing between mainland Alban and the now uninhabited north islands. The boats pushed onward toward the cape of northern Alban at Stoer, where they would turn south and move toward the mouth of the Inbhir Ross. Buoyed by their belief no one of substance remained to give them chase, they moved without haste. Little did they know Bryn had already sent an army to meet them.
King Thamen and his men arrived at the foot of Scurr Mor just as the sun began to rise in the East. Thamen gestured toward one of his captains, and the man came to his side.
“Have them take a meal while we wait for word from the council,” King Thamen said.
“We will not have long to wait,” Calden replied. “Lady Athebryn is here.”
“Here? I had expected one of the others of the council to meet us. Where is the Lady now?”
“Tending to her dragon, sire.”
King Thamen heard a bit of surprise in Calden’s speech. “Is this the first time you have seen a dragon?”
“I have seen them before, sire. Though, I have never been this close to one. My wife is now a member of the council, and she has a dragon of her own. This is the first time I have been in the presence of such a beast.”
“Then come. The Lady’s dragon once belonged to my daughter. This dragon, Meydra, is a good friend.”
King Thamen and Calden walked out to the field just beyond the last of the troops. Bryn and Meydra were standing in the grass, foreheads touching. King Thamen could see the swish of Meydra’s tail as Bryn spoke with her. He led Calden to the field, and they waited.
“Heardred will not yield,” Bryn said to Meydra. “I must be prepared for him to die.”
“This has always been the end he seeks. He does not fear death.”
“He does not. But he does fear not going to Valhalla,” Bryn said. “A dishonorable death is by far worse for the Norse.”
“And what would constitute a dishonorable death for the vile vík ingr?”
“To die at the hands of a maid. I must be the one to take his life. I started this chain of events when I killed his son. I must finish it with the death of Heardred if necessary.” Bryn stepped back from Meydra. “I think there is someone here to meet you. King Thamen brings a guest.” Bryn turned to King Thamen and Calden and waved them over to her.
“Lady Athebryn,” King Thamen said. “I had not expected you here.”
“I was just telling Meydra I must be here to attempt an end to what I started. It was I who killed Helstun, son and heir of Heardred. I robbed Heardred of a direct male heir to the tribe.”
“You may have robbed him of an heir, but Heardred is responsible for the actions of his tribes, including the acts of his son and daughter. Do not forget his daughter had taken my daughter hostage,” King Thamen said.
“Rest assured I will never forget, and I do intend holding Heardred responsible for the deaths of my clanns people as well as all those lives lost to his raiding tribes. That is precisely why I am here.” Bryn turned to Calden who had stood silent while the two leaders discussed the enemy. “Captain Calden, I would like you to meet Meydra. She is known as the high dragon among her kind.”
Calden gave Meydra a little bow of his head, and he touched his right fist to his chest. “I am honored.”
Meydra brought her tail around slowly and touched Calden on his back.
“She welcomes you,” King Thamen said. He reached out to touch Meydra’s scales. “I do not remember your scales being so opulent. They shimmer now with pure light.”
“What you see is the inner beauty of the dragon,” Bryn explained. “The time has come for all the dragons to reveal their true selves.”
“As should we all,” Calden said. “Long have the warriors of Erie desired to join the clanns of our ancestors and unite under one banner.”
“Why have you not done so before now?” King Thamen asked.
“We have been waiting for a leader,” Calden replied. “One who not only wished to unite the clanns, but also believed in uniting a country. One banner for all who inhabit the high and low lands of Alban and Erie. Separated by a narrow sea does not make us enemies. We are kin. Except for a handful of misguided souls, the clanns of Erie want one leader to rule.”
“Then we are here on common purpose,” King Thamen said. “The lower kingdoms of Alban fight beside us in this battle under one commander.”
Calden looked at King Thamen and gave him a small smile. “Will they wish to remain at your side no matter the outcome of the battle?”
“Plans are already underway to ensure there is a union between the highlands and the lower kingdoms,” King Thamen said. “Already, the two larger of the lower kingdoms have pledged a union.”
“Ah, a marriage between the two kingdoms,” Calden said.
King Thamen looked at Bryn and smiled. “No, my daughter’s heart belongs to another. The union of which I speak here is between future rulers of those now divided kingdoms. But I will let them speak for themselves when the time is right.”
Bryn returned King Thamen’s smile. “Come, I have news, and we must prepare for Heardred’s arrival. He will be here before the sun sets tonight.”
❦
The boat rounded the cape and began a southeasterly heading. A course that would take the vessels close to the western shore and the many waterways leading into the island’s heartland. Heardred looked east toward shore and tried to spot the entrance to the river. He rubbed his hands down his heavy tunic.
“There,” he whispered. “That is our entrance.” He pointed to a dark spot in front of the boat. “Make for where the water runs faster. That is the mouth of the river. It will take us inland.”
The navigator instructed the men at the oars to change direction, and the boat turned toward the darkened shore.
“Now,” Heardred said, “I will teach the sheep a lesson.”
The boat began to fight the current at the mouth of the Inbhir Ross. On a small rise north, a captain waits for the signal to move down and close off the retreat of the boat. On the south side, another captain holds back in a small stand of trees. Hidden from view by the darkening sky and the sentinel trees, east of the mouth where the Inbhir Ross divides to the North and the East, two units of a large army, line the banks. One group quietly stands withdrawn bows at the ready. On the opposite bank, drawn swords are held in anxious hands. On a sandy spit, midway between two waterways, a king and a horse stand beside a maid and a dragon.
Hansa directed the oarsman to put
the boats on the sand but not to disembark. “We must not appear aggressive. We wait to see if we are met.”
“Your father would not approve,” the oarsman said.
“My father is not here.” Hansa turned back to watch the shore. “Do you think we will have to wait long?”
“There will surely be a scout nearby,” Conri replied. “The scout will have to take the news to someone. Someone else will tell the leader. The leader will need to come here. It may take a little while, yes.”
“Pass the word to the others. No one leaves the boats. All remain seated and quiet. Give them food.”
“As you wish,” Conri said. “Will you eat?”
“I am too nervous about doing so. I will keep my eyes on the sky.”
Arryn and Thalynder watched from the backs of their dragons as the boats came up on to the sand. Arryn nodded at Thalynder and Thalynder directed An-Yun to land on the rise behind the stand of trees where they will not be seen. The two dragons drop silently down, and Arryn gets off FireSong. He walked over to An-Yun as Thalynder came off her neck.
“They remain on the boats. Just as Bryn said, they would.”
“If they are still on the boats at sun-rise, we will send a small group to meet them. For now, let us take food. We will watch the boats and wait.”
“When will you address Hansa?” Arryn asked.
“When she steps off the boat, unarmed. She knows we suspect her. We know she took Meriel and since Meriel has not returned with her, by her thoughts, we will either think Meriel dead or still in Götaland. She will begin the conversation by telling us Meriel is dead.”
“And how do you know this? Has Bryn been teaching you magic again?”
Thalynder chuckled. “No, it is just as an emissary, she will wish to clear the air and offer some token. I am just hoping it is not Meriel’s head.”
Arryn grinned. “If it is, I may have to have hers in trade. I hope you and Bryn are right about this one.”