Authors: Bianca D'Arc
She stifled her cries of delight as she came, not wanting to wake the household. More than just her parents were sleeping in the big house now that they’d moved into the active phase of preparing for the challenge. Every one of the Old Guard families had members taking turns on watch and using the guest rooms on this floor. If she screamed, some of them might just come running to see what was up—and probably tease her and Mitch to death because they’d damn well know what was going on in this room.
She wouldn’t give them any reason to burst in on them, even if
any teasing would all be meant in good-natured fun. She just wasn’t ready to share the special thing that was their relationship with anyone yet. Not
that
graphically, at any rate. She especially didn’t want any of those horny female tigers ogling her man’s amazing body. He was for her alone—just as she was for him.
She tried not to think about how little time they might have together. Each day that passed brought them closer to the trip to Iceland that would decide their fate once and for all. She clung to him in the dark of the night, fearing the future but knowing it must come.
Only a few days later, they touched down in Iceland and had to pick up their pre-arranged transport to the secret tiger enclave. The stronghold was located near the famous Grímsvötn volcano in the highlands on the northwestern side of the Vatnajökull ice cap. There was a human geological research and monitoring station not too far away, but over the years, the
tigre blanche
had employed mages of various kinds to help hide their presence from the humans who closely watched the volcano.
Grímsvötn—which many tigers just called the Grim for short—was the most active of the nation’s volcanoes, and because most of it lay below the ice cap, the subglacial eruptions could be both explosive and very, very dangerous. If the hot magma managed to melt too much water beneath the ice cap, it could release suddenly in an outburst called a
jökulhlaup
. The Icelandic word had even made its way into the English language to describe any large, abrupt release of water from a subglacial reservoir.
Mitch had studied up on the area as part of his reading over the past week. He found the combination of fire and ice in this harsh environment a thing of beauty
, and now that he was here, he thought he understood why some long-ago tiger king had moved his seat of power to this stark landscape.
When the
tigre blanche
had first claimed part of this land for themselves, there hadn’t been many humans here and their technology had been primitive. Now though, humans had the ability and need to monitor the volcano and glacier that had become the tigers’ refuge with all kinds of scientific devices.
The tigers had countered technology with magic, paying human mages to make their hidden enclave as protected as possible from electronic observation. In fact, there was even some kind of repulsion charm on the area right around the tiger stronghold that made most humans want to avoid it altogether. Only a few had been foolish enough to ignore their inner fears over the years, and they had been dealt with by the ever-present Guard that either redirected them in subtle ways or confronted them and ran them off.
Mitch drove one of the rented vehicles as they left Reykjavík and took the Ring Road, known in Iceland as the Hringvegur, which made a complete circuit around the edge of the island nation. It took them within hiking distance of the stronghold. They’d leave their vehicles in the village where most of the the tiger Clan living in Iceland had gathered. The village paid the government handsomely for certain priveleges of autonomy and silence. Most of the Guard families lived there and helped keep the route to the stronghold both secret and safe even while off-duty.
As their small party parked their rented vehicles, Mitch could feel the tingling sensation of eyes on them. They were being observed. He was surrounded by the group that had set out from the United States with him. Each member of the team had been chosen for their skill and dedication. Paul Miller led the group, organizing the rest.
They had no sooner stepped out of their vehicles than they were surrounded by a contingent of Icelandic tigers. Mitch knew their scent, if not their loyalties.
“This is private property,” one of them called out as he stood forward.
He was young—maybe in his early twenties—and seemed to be the eldest of the group that surrounded them. Mitch was surprised. Was the whole town guarded only by children and youths? If so, what had happened here?
Mitch moved to meet
the young tiger despite Paul’s hiss of warning. Now was not the time to show any weakness or fear.
“We have safe passage,” Mitch declared as he faced the younger man, only ten paces or so between them
now. “I’m Mitch Gustavson and I come to answer the challenge offered by Gisli.”
“King Gisli,” the young man repeated, but with no heat, merely in a corrective tone.
“He is no king.” Gina burst forward to stand beside Mitch. He knew she was angry but he wasn’t sure if this was the best time for it. What could a bunch of kids do anyway? “He is merely the steward,” she added.
“And who are you to question our leader?” the younger man asked in a curious tone.
“I am Gleda, daughter of Fridrik and Snaedis of the
tigre blanche
.” Mitch had never been prouder of her regal bearing. Then she smiled and softened her tone, and there was the woman he loved. “But my friends call me Gina.”
The reaction of the youths was immediate. They all sank to one knee in respect while Mitch eyed each one for any sign of subterfuge. But this looked genuine. They all seemed humbled by the presence of the tiger princess.
And then an old woman stepped forward from the outer edges of the ring of youths. He hadn’t seen her approach and she had the tingle of magic around her. Her face was lined and her eyes were somewhat clouded with age. Her scent was that of a tiger shifter and she was the oldest-looking tiger Mitch had ever seen.
“Praise the Mother of All for your return, Princess Gleda. I am Hilda Berenson, priestess of this village and your great grandmother, Mitchell Gustavson.” Her aged eyes twinkled at him and he realized there were tears sparkling on her pale lashes. He’d made the old lady cry, and that didn’t sit well with him. Mitch shifted on his feet in discomfort. “I wish we had time to talk, but haste is your friend at this crucial juncture,” she went on, surprising him with her knowledge. “Gisli prepares even now. His spies at the airport in Reykjavík have no doubt alerted him to your arrival. You must prepare yourself and meet him at the challenge grounds just outside the stronghold. Gunnar will show you the way.” She touched the young man’s shoulder, though he remained down on one knee.
“Where are all the older folk, madam,” Gina asked in a respectful tone, asking the question that had been bothering Mitch since the beginning of this confrontation.
“Serving up at the stronghold, taken prisoner, dead or run off,” Hilda replied with acidic candor. “Times have not been good here since your father’s departure,
princess. And after the financial crash of 2008, it’s been worse. Gisli is a fool in many ways, but especially with money.”
“Amma
,” the young man named Gunnar reproved his elder gently. “Be careful what you say.” Mitch knew the Icelandic word for grandmother was amma. Whether Gunnar was related or not remained to be seen. It could be the old woman was called amma by the entire village due to her advanced age.
She laughed in reply. “The time has come, lad. Do you not see your salvation when it is standing before you? The real royals have returned. The Goddess blesses their path. They have only to prove themselves worthy and nimble
, and our people may yet recover from this terrible time.”
“It’s not over yet, Amma. Be more cautious in your speech, please.” Gunnar looked pained by the old woman’s candor and Mitch saw the value in playing it safe. What if he didn’t win the challenge? What if Gisli exacted revenge for her words here today? How many would suffer or die if Mitch didn’t win?
He stepped forward and touched the old lady’s shoulder with one hand. “If you really are my great grandmother—and I believe you are—then please heed Gunnar’s caution. I don’t want anything to happen to you if I fail.”
She covered his hand with hers, lined with age but still strong. Her watery eyes met his and he could actually feel the strength radiating from her toward him.
“You must prevail, Mitchell. The Clan needs its rightful leadership. We’ve been too long without it and have paid the Lady’s price for our hubris. We have suffered for a generation. The Clan is nearly bankrupt and cannot sustain its people. These youngsters here have never known the rule of a true king. You must return honor to our people. It is your sacred duty.”
“I know,
Amma, I know.” Mitch bowed his head, receiving her words like a benediction. He felt the Goddess’s power in the old woman’s touch. “I’ll do my best.”
The wrinkled hand moved to his cheek and she smiled at him. “Your best is all we ask, grandson. I see my Maria and her mother, Marli, in you. You have Maria’s smile.”
Mitch was touched by her words. This old woman had known his birth mother and his grandmother. She was related to him by blood. Mitch had never had a blood relation before. He wanted to talk more with his great grandmother, but there was no time. Not now. Maybe not ever if he didn’t win the day.
He couldn’t answer her. He was too choked up. But he squeezed her hand gently and returned her smile. He hoped she understood how precious this moment was to him. If he had anything to say about it, he would return and talk with her at length once this was all over.
She stepped back and touched the young man’s shoulder again. “Gunnar, this is your cousin Mitchell. You must take him to the challenge field near the stronghold. Be careful and watch for magical attacks.” She turned toward Mitch to offer one last word of warning. “Gisli has a mage. A perverse and powerful creature. Gunnar has enough of my gift to detect magical attacks before they happen. Heed him and take cover if Gisli’s pet mage comes into play. Gunnar can help you there—and perhaps you inherited some of my abilities as well—but you cannot count on it, I fear. Your best bet is to take Gisli out as quickly as possible, and don’t give his mage any opportunity to snare you. Many men have died by that mage’s hand. I would not see you join their number.”
With that, she turned and left abruptly, and the rest of the youths went with her. Only Gunnar remained and he tilted his head, looking at Mitch with a twinkle in his eye that was much like the old woman’s.
“So you’re my cousin, eh?” Gunnar said.
Mitch didn’t know what to make of him. He was younger by a few years, but he was definitely no child. He was Mitch’s height, though he wasn’t quite as broad in the shoulder. He still looked like he could handle himself and knew how to use those big fists of his. Mitch liked the look of him—and he did have enough of a resemblance that Mitch could believe he was related by blood. Now he had two blood relatives where only this morning he’d been an orphan with no family to claim him. This day was full of surprises.
“I guess so,” Mitch replied, offering a hand to shake. “Call me Mitch.”
Gunnar shook his hand and yep, there was the show of strength Mitch expected as the younger man tried to crush his hand. But Mitch was made of stronger stuff than that, and returned the grip—with interest. Gunnar grinned as they let go and shook out his fingers.
“Nice one, Mitch.” He grinned and Mitch realized with a start that the kid had been testing him.
Guards often used little shows of strength to test each other. It was mostly harmless, and it helped establish hierarchy among so many Alphas. They couldn’t all be top cat. And they couldn’t waste time constantly fighting each other in dominance challenges. So they used little things to determine the pecking order among them. Gunnar had just proven that Mitch was stronger and therefore slightly more dominant. Gunnar would follow Mitch’s lead. Excellent.
“I’m Gina.” She stepped forward and took Gunnar’s hand. Mitch watched closely. He didn’t want the guy squeezing Gina’s fragile fingers that way, but Gunnar surprised them both by raising her hand to his lips and offering a kiss instead. Gunnar’s golden eyes danced with mischief and Mitch wanted to laugh at his antics. The kid was a jokester. Mitch liked him already.
Gunnar released her hand and bowed to her. “My princess,” he intoned. “It is good to see you here in Iceland, where you belong.”
Gina smiled back at Gunnar and then introduced him to the rest of the group. Paul seemed to come out on top from their handshake, but Gunnar surprised Mitch by proving slightly more dominant than the rest of his team. He was younger than all of them but already stronger. He’d make a damn fine Alpha one day…soon. If Mitch judged right, Gunnar wasn’t far from reaching his full potential.
“Shall we set off?” Gunnar asked Mitch and Gina when he’d made the rounds. “Gisli is aware of your presence in the country. My father still serves as a Royal Guard, as do many others, who act as our eyes and ears in the court. Gisli hasn’t let anyone come home for any length of time lately, wanting all his protectors around him, but the few who’ve come down from the stronghold for quick visits have kept the village informed.”
“The sooner we get there, the sooner this ends,” Mitch said in a grim tone. He wasn’t looking forward to the battle, but he didn’t want to live with this uncertainty any longer. He wanted it decided—one way or another.
Gina took his hand as they set off together, following where Gunnar led. Mitch had made a study of the terrain and knew the younger man was leading them in the right direction. Gunnar hadn’t yet earned his trust—not the way the Millers and the other Old Guard families had—but Mitch would follow where the younger man led. For now.
One thing he wouldn’t do was trust blindly. Treachery came in many forms, he well knew. Even when everything looked on the up-and-up on the surface, sometimes things weren’t so clear cut. He’d follow Gunnar’s lead, but only up to a point. Mitch had enough intel on the area from Gina’s dad to know if the younger man was leading them astray.
They spoke in soft tones as they hiked. Their pace was fast but not tiring. They’d reach the challenge field before dark, Gunnar promised. Mitch walked beside Gina with Gunnar on his other side.
“You can sense magic?” Gina asked, clearly curious about Hilda’s claims.