by Ann Gimpel
Ceridwen was powerful enough to keep him from taking her blood and turning her. I was certain she wouldn’t have lifted a finger to protect me, so I spent a lot of time hiding out at my pool with the standing stones. No one could find me there.
I squeezed my eyes shut long enough to rest them a little and blot out images from my youth. Just another charming trip down memory lane. I had zero good memories of my time with the Celts. It was a wonder I’d found the wherewithal to knock on the witches’ door. Maybe a small part of me understood how close I’d been to tumbling down a one-way rathole into a place where I stopped caring.
About everything.
“How did ye find Fire Mountain?” Zelli’s question dragged me out of the dreary pit my thoughts had become.
“I loved the crystalline walls that hold light. And the pool had incredible energy. I’d like to spend more time there.”
“We shall.” She sounded pleased. “Hang on. Just a couple of bumps and we’ll be back in Vanaheim.”
“Is this, uh, method of teleporting unique to Fire Mountain?”
“It is,” she confirmed. “Our homeland welcomes us back and ensures the journey willna tax us. If ye dinna carry dragon blood, ye wouldna be allowed in this portal system.”
I’d suspected as much. The bumps she’d predicted weren’t too bad. Soon we touched down in the courtyard outside Bjorn’s cottage. He and Quade had beaten us there, and Dewi was just coming in to land. She skidded to a stop but didn’t fold her wings.
“Many of my companions remain in Valhalla. I shall fill them in on the latest news and determine if aught of import has passed since we left Odin’s halls.”
“We’ll either be here, or—” I began.
She waved a foreleg at Zelli and me. “I can find you no matter where ye end up.” Her wings were already furled. She crab walked a few meters away and leapt skyward, gaining altitude quickly.
Silly me. Of course she could locate me; all she had to do was cast a seeking spell. I fashioned a bit of magic to cushion my egress and jumped from Zelli’s back. So many tasks faced me, I decided I should make a list. Something I hadn’t ever done before, but I didn’t want to miss anything.
Bjorn joined me on the ground and strode to his cottage. Someone had left a scrawled note nailed to the door. He snatched it and unfolded what looked like deer hide, scanning its contents.
“What does it say?” I’d have just read over his shoulder, but didn’t want to be too presumptuous.
“It’s from Hagar. Apparently, Nidhogg and Odin paid him for my blades, but I need to show up so he can smelt them.”
“What need do ye have for swords?” Quade asked.
A corner of Bjorn’s mouth twitched upward. “When I could be using fire? Or magic?”
“Aye. Exactly.” The dragon shook himself from head to toe and folded his black wings neatly.
“After my first serious battle, Nidhogg and Ysien sat with me to determine an array of weapons. Nidhogg has always recognized what I am. Presumably, Ysien as well since he seems to know everything. They’re who instructed me to commission the blades.”
“Interesting,” Zelli said, followed by, “Quade and I shall pay Jotunheim a visit.”
I remembered when we had stopped there quite well, but I had no idea why she’d want to go back. Before I could dig for details, she continued, “We need allies throughout the Nine Worlds. The giants are a logical starting place.”
“’Twill be an uphill endeavor,” Quade rumbled. Smoke streamed from his nostrils. “No one will see the need to do aught differently than they have since the dawning of the Nine Worlds.”
Bjorn still held onto the deerskin. “So long as you brought it up, be sure to stop by Svartalfheim.”
“The dwarves’ home,” Quade muttered. “Why? They live underground in caverns too small to accommodate us.”
“That last battle around Ben Nevis, dwarves were among the fallen,” I reminded him. I hadn’t realized they had their own place within the Nine Worlds, or I’d have taken more time to examine the dead ones. You can learn a lot from a corpse.
“I should have paid closer attention.” Bjorn sounded thoughtful. “And I might have if a bat hadn’t singled me out. Dwarves have never joined forces with evil before. Mostly, they are smiths, craftsmen. Many powerful gifts, like Odin’s spear, originated from their workshops.”
“We should go there first,” Quade said.
“Aye, perhaps they require our help.” Zelli sounded determined.
“I’ve rethought this. Better if you go to the giants’ world and return,” Bjorn suggested. “That way, I can accompany you to Svartalfheim. They know me, trust me. I’ve treated their ailments. It’s unlikely they’ll leave their dens to talk with you. Dragons or no, they don’t know you.”
“Hold up, everyone,” I said. “Unless I missed something, our next major undertaking is locating the perfidious dragon who sired me. If we get sidetracked on a hundred other equally worthy tasks, we’ll never find the time to go after him.”
Bjorn nodded. “Excellent point. My first priority is the blades because Nidhogg believes I’ll need them. After that, we can search for Cadir.”
I thought about it. “I’m shelving the history lesson and going right for ways to deal with Cad-whoever, once we locate him. That’s got to be in your books and scrolls too, right?” I asked Bjorn.
“Should be,” he replied.
“What’s wrong that I can’t seem to remember Father’s name?” I muttered.
“Mayhap not something wrong but something right,” Zelli said. “His name is evil. Makes my scales crawl, and it has since he cracked the shell of his egg.”
“We need to say his name, though, no matter how much it creeps us out,” I pressed. “Every powerful spell I’ve come across to exert control requires use of the subject’s true name.”
“Aye, but ye doona have to utter it much beforehand,” Quade said.
“We have the bones of our first steps in place,” Bjorn told everyone. “The dragons will begin informing each world of the need to cooperate.” He rolled his eyes and added, “Good luck with that.”
“Doona underestimate our powers of persuasion.” Zelli’s jaws lolled into the dragon equivalent of a smile.
“I’ll teleport to Hagar’s and return as quick as I can with an assortment of short and long blades,” Bjorn went on.
“And I’ll see what the lore has to say about capturing renegade dragons. If I get done before the rest of you are back, I’ll check on the witches.” I headed for the cottage, intent on getting my teeth into my part of our joint project.
Magic rose behind me. Dragon-laced power that held the scent of Fire Mountain’s suns. Dewi had, presumably, flown to Bifrost and taken the bridge, thumbing her scales at the “Norse only” rule. Although, Zelli had said it didn’t apply to dragons.
Footsteps followed me into the cottage. By the time I turned to face Bjorn, he was half naked and dropping his stained clothing into a basket near the sink. His nude torso made breath hitch in my throat. He bent over the sink and pumped water into it.
I could use a sponge bath too, but if I took my clothes off, we were doomed. No way I’d be able to keep my hands off him. I was having a hell of a hard time as it was. Muscles played across his back and arms as he wrung out a cloth and wiped dust and grime from his skin. I could have watched him, gape-jawed, forever.
Staring at him wasn’t doing anything except making me long to tumble him back into his bed. The cottage still held the scents from our lovemaking, and they stoked my hunger. He dipped his head under the spigot and pumped water over it, bringing some around to wash his face.
Draping a towel around his neck, he used it to soak up the water dripping from the ends of his white-blond hair. When he turned around, his smile melted my heart and set the rest of me on fire. Not that I required any encouragement.
“Feel free to bathe.” His grin widened. “After I’m gone. If you undress, I won’t be responsible
for my actions, and we have too much facing us as it is.”
I swallowed around a dry place in my throat and quit rubbing my thighs together. “So I’m supposed to manage my, um, needs with your shirt off, but bare breasts will be your undoing?”
He held up a hand and walked to a row of garments hanging on hooks. “We’ll find time, darling.” He dragged a clean tunic over his head, followed by a leather vest, before he covered the short distance to me and wrapped me in his arms. His heart beat double time beneath my ear. I’d kept my gaze above his waist, but I felt the press of him against my belly. Long and hard and hot.
I snuggled against him, but not for very long.
“Before you go,” I said, “what did you think about Fire Mountain?”
“They’re not telling us everything.”
“Why do you suspect that?” My eyebrows shot upward. I hadn’t even considered that aspect.
“Just a feeling. Odin was downright convivial—for him. He’s never friendly. Never does anything for anyone else. Something is in this for him. Something big, but I can’t figure out what.”
“It seemed odd to me he was even there.” I spoke slowly as I considered what it might mean. “He was the only one without dragon blood.”
“Nidhogg is the Norse dragon,” Bjorn pointed out.
“He wouldn’t have invited Odin.”
A snort riffled past Bjorn’s beautiful mouth. “Nay. Odin invites himself. I could be really off-base, but for some reason they can’t locate this father of yours. So they’re using us to do it.”
“I’m not worried about finding him,” I said. “Now that I’ve had time to roll it around, it’s as simple as putting a blood vector into action. Those types of seeking spells are easy for me.”
“Aye. It’s not the finding him. It’s the what the fuck do we do with him once we do. My biggest concern is we’ll open a pathway for him to return to the Nine Worlds. If he could do as much damage as he presumably has from such a great distance…”
Bjorn didn’t have to say any more. I got it. Our discussion was disturbing enough, my lust had vanished, replaced by worry. “Maybe I’ll unearth something in the scrolls,” I muttered.
“Speaking of them.” He walked to the shelf that held his source materials and whipped two scrolls and an ancient-looking book bound in cracked black leather from the shelves. “Start with these.”
I cast a doubtful glance at what appeared to be months’ worth of reading and said, “I’m on it.”
“I’ll return as soon as I can.” He started for the door before swinging in a half circle to look at me. “Do ye have any idea how difficult ’tis to walk away from you? Every cell in my body wishes naught but to remain. To remove your clothing, lay you on yon bed, and—” He’d switched to Old Norse, the language he used when he was too emotional to search for English words.
“You’re not making this any easier.” My voice was thick, rough with desire. I started toward him but forced my feet to stop right where they were. If we touched each other again, we’d be lost. Both of us knew it.
His chiseled lips formed a mischievous grin. “We can take turns being strong. Won’t work forever, but ’twill have to do for now.”
Power rose around him in the many shades of the sea. When it cleared, he was gone. The cottage smelled of him, of us. My mind was muzzy with heat and need. Finally, I walked to the sink and did what I could to rinse myself. The icy water helped clear my head—a lot. I didn’t have clean clothes here, so I borrowed a shirt from off his rack. I’d grab something from my room when I checked on the witches.
Determined to soldier through the stack of lore and legend, I placed the scrolls and book on the table, made myself a mug of tea, and settled in to read. Every lore book was written in a different language. Most had been penned by hand. I started honestly enough, determined to read every word, but I quickly switched to magic, instructing it to highlight the important aspects.
Hours slid by; the angle of light coming through the cabin’s single window dimmed until it told me night was imminent. Unlike Earth, Vanaheim didn’t appear to have seasons. Not ones affecting the day-night cycle. At a few points, I helped myself to bread and cheese from Bjorn’s larder.
I was most of the way through the book and hadn’t found anything particularly useful. Whoever had written the tome—and it was probably more than one mage—shied away from the topic of dragons.
Probably no one had ever set out to capture one before.
Didn’t make me feel any better. I rubbed my eyes and raked my hands through hair that had dried hours ago. Maybe this would be a good time to check on the witches. I wasn’t getting anything done here. No one was back. The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea.
This way, I’d be ready to leave for points unknown to scare up Daddy once everyone else returned. I was mildly concerned about Bjorn, but I had no idea how long it took to create magical blades. I wasn’t at all worried about the dragons.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I stood and gathered a travel spell to me. My magic has felt a whole lot stronger lately. Nidhogg seemed to think claiming my heritage made a difference, but I didn’t buy it. Not entirely. Now I could see where Hel ripping a glamour off Bjorn would have made a difference, but no one had done jack shit squat to change me.
I cut off that line of thought. It made me uncomfortable because it suggested a third party somewhere on the sidelines who’d been yanking my puppet strings for years. For once, I couldn’t blame Ceridwen.
The amulet warmed as if reminding me to use its talents. I grasped it and set my spell in motion.
Bjorn’s cottage faded, replaced by the illusion around Inverlochy. I didn’t plan on staying, so I used subtle threads of magic to do a nose count. Everyone was hale and hearty and inside just like they were supposed to be. I even checked on the plants. They’d gained half a meter. Maybe my magic wasn’t the only element running rampant.
Satisfied this contingent of witches was safe, I altered my destination coordinates and came out in Ben Nevis’s entry cave. After making certain everyone was doing all right, I cast an obfuscation spell to discourage anyone knowing I was there and headed straight for my room. Mort was curled on my bed looking so despondent, my heart went out to him. I dropped my invisibility illusion and sank next to him, cradling him in my arms.
Cats are wise beings. He knew I wouldn’t be there long, so while he allowed me to hold him, he didn’t purr or lick me or jump to his favorite spot around my neck. I reached into his mind and said, “I’m sorry. I miss you too. A lot. I wish things were different, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be back here to stay.”
He did meow then, a sad little sound that sheened my eyes with tears. I cuddled him for as long as I thought I could get away with before I grabbed a few items from the hooks where I keep my meager wardrobe and teleported back to Bjorn’s house.
It was full dark. Zelli and Quade were in the courtyard. Something about the quality of their silence told me they’d stopped talking the second they sensed my approach. “What?” I asked.
“We will talk once Bjorn returns,” Quade said.
“Aye, he’ll be here presently,” Zelli added.
I sent power in a quick arc and felt Bjorn’s energy. Sure enough, he strode through a gateway amid clattering and clanging. Three knives hung from sheaths attached to a leather belt. Two thick swords were encased in scabbards. A thinner blade hung free. That was what was making all the racket.
“Quite a haul,” I said.
He took in the clothing draped over my arm and said, “How are the witches?”
“Fine. I checked both places.”
He unbuckled various sword belts and laid them near the door to his cottage. “These are heavy. They’ll take some getting used to. How’d the lore hunt go?”
“Meh. Not good. It’s why I took a break to look in on the witches.”
Dragon imbued power blasted out of nowhere and draped around the four of us. When
I tested it, I ran into an impenetrable ward.
“Whoa. Impressive,” Bjorn said. “I’m guessing you found something you don’t want bandied about.”
“We did.” Zelli didn’t sound happy.
“Should we wait for Dewi?” I asked.
“We doona know if we can trust her.” Quade got the words out, but I bet they cost him.
“Or anyone else.” Fire shot from Zelli’s mouth and smoldered, creating clouds of smoke when it ran into the ward. “Sorry. I’ll try not to do that.”
Breath hissed through Bjorn’s teeth. “Come on. Let’s have whatever this is. And not in dribs and drabs. Before you begin, you should know that Loki may not look much like a giant, but he began in Jotunheim. He had to scheme his way into Asgard and a seat at Valhalla’s head table. He and Odin have played a game of one-upmanship forever.”
“Fair enough,” Quade replied. “We started in Jotunheim as agreed…”
Chapter Seventeen, Bjorn
“It took us a while to find anyone,” Zelli said. “A storm was raging. Snow. Ice. Sleet. If I’d been alone, I’d have left, but Quade insisted we not leave any rocks unturned. Or in this case, any blocks of ice.” She shook her head. “Who chooses a land of eternal winter?”
I restrained myself by not pointing out Fire Mountain wasn’t an ideal environment for most individuals, either.
“We pressed on.” Quade’s deep voice rumbled. “A castle reared up from the storm as if someone had plopped it dead in our path. It might have been there all along, but I believe it was hidden behind powerful illusion. Lights shone through many windows, and music drifted along the wind. I’d been hearing it for a while but assumed it was a trick of the ceaseless gusts.”
“I bugled,” Zelli continued. “It got someone’s attention, although I have no idea how the hell they heard us above the howl of the storm.”
“Giants have exceptional hearing,” I said.
“Aye, they must,” Quade agreed. “But it runs deeper than that. Someone withdrew the enchantment keeping the castle hidden from view, so they must have sensed us. They lowered a drawbridge over a frozen moat, raised the portcullis, and opened their home. It was quite a relief to get out of the storm. Also convenient they’re as large as we are. No stooping in their halls.”