Pagan Fire (18 page)

“So that was the game, eh?” Jorvik stepped forward. Towering over the goddess by a head, he looked down at her. “I promise you no words of pleading ever passed these lips. No prayers were needed to help break your spell.”

Morrigu frowned. “How then?” She crossed her arms in front of her and pouted. “How did you gain entry without the help of the gods? It was not to be so!”

He squared his shoulders and drew himself up. “I defeated your spell with the faith I put in myself.” He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “And the faith I put in my skill with this.”

Morrigu nodded. “Clever man, aren’t you?” She looked up at him, licking her lips.

Jorvik gestured defiantly, then turned and began walking away. He was stopped mid-stride. Slowly, his body rose from the ground and spun until he faced Morrigu once again.

“You will not turn from me so easily,” Morrigu said flatly, as she lowered him to the forest floor. “I am not through with you.” She looked at Maere. “I would have you know the girl will awaken soon. Your course of action must be decided before then.”

“You know what I am about. It was you who instructed Eugis where she could be found. And you know he has gone on to Tintagel to make camp and I am set to meet him there.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, a sudden weariness filling him. “What game will you play with us now, Morrigu, soulless creature that you are?”

Morrigu laughed and shook her head, sending her black hair dancing around her naked form. “Cast your runes. A new direction must be planned.”

Jorvik grabbed her arm. Her laughter faded as her eyes went from his hand on her arm to his face. “I asked you a question. What game, goddess? Would you have me betray Eugis?”

“What is he but a passing amusement? Whether or not he gains his heart’s desire means nothing to me.” She pulled free of his grasp and presented him with her slim back. “You, on the other hand, know of true power. You know the power of my kind.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You are, at least in part, my kind.” In one slow seductive movement, Morrigu faced Jorvik and motioned for him to come closer. Through no will of his own he came to her in a tight embrace, her bare breasts pressed against his chest.

Morrigu looked up at him, lips moist and parted. In an instant, his mouth covered hers in a fierce, deep kiss. Their breath mingled and Jorvik caught a glimpse into the goddess’ true being. He now understood she was neither good nor evil. But what he had only guessed at before was most certainly true. The world of mortals was only a playground for her. Well, she would find he would not be played with so easily even if she did smell of pine, wind, and smoldering embers. Using his last bit of will, Jorvik pulled free of Morrigu.

She laughed as her body began to fade with the falling of the night. “Cast your runes, Viking. And never forget.” She gestured toward the thin blood-covered scar on his arm. “You are marked. You are now mine.”

Chapter Twenty-One

A large man of the northern lands rode in on a cloud of thunder, his horse black, his yellow hair flying behind him. He raised a sword high and another man appeared beside him. Tall, thin, dark: The exact opposite of the Viking. His nostrils flared and his eyes glowed with bloodlust. A fire rose and billowed behind the two men. In one slow movement they reached for her, and each grabbed an arm. They pulled in opposite directions, as if to tear her in half. Her mouth opened in a silent scream…

Maere jerked upright. Her heart racing, she opened her eyes and realized she was dreaming again.

Or was she?

As her eyes focused, she found, not fifteen feet away, a group of Northmen with the same coloring and dress as the man in her dreams. They sat around a fire, their attention on a set of stones lying before them. Maere clutched her breast in panic, her eyes wide, until she realized they hadn’t noticed she’d awakened. She glanced around her. Where was Dylan mac Connall? Briefly, she studied the night sky. Where was she? She had to get away, to find Dylan and discover what had happened.

Panic seized her again.
What if he was dead?
She forced the thought away.
Time enough for worry later.
Ever so quietly, Maere slowly pushed herself to her feet and then ran into the cover of the forest.

“What say they, Asa?” Jorvik asked. He leaned forward to catch a closer look at the runic markings in the firelight.

Asa glanced up at his friend, his brow furrowed. He shook his head. “You won’t like it.”

Jorvik laughed. “Many’s the time I haven’t liked what you’ve said.” He smiled warmly at the other man. “But I know of no truer
rynstr
. Now, tell us what you see.”

“
Inguz
and
Ansuz
are here,” Asa said, pointing to the vertical lines of small flat rectangular stones. “And here we have
Algiz
and
Vruz
.” Asa closed his eyes and spoke quieter, running his index finger over the incised images. “According to this casting, there is trouble at your father’s camp. I can tell you Otto has tried to communicate with you on a spirit level. You haven’t heard him.” He opened his eyes and looked at Jorvik. “I fear greatly for his health, friend. He needs you.”

Jorvik jumped himself to his feet and cursed. This was the goddess’ doing, of that he was certain. Strange, though, that he hadn’t sensed his father’s need, he always had in the past. He supposed he was too intent on Eugis’s work. Or that Morrigu had kept him from being receptive to unspoken messages.

Morrigu had mentioned a change in course. If Jorvik headed toward his father’s location, it would take him at least a day or two in a more northerly direction, away from Tintagel and his meeting with Eugis. Assuming, that is, Otto was still at the same camp where Jorvik had last left him.

He rubbed the dark blond stubble of whiskers forming on his chin. Absently, he glanced over to where Maere lay sleeping. He slowly dropped his hand as his mind registered what his eyes saw—the nest of fir boughs was empty!

“Grimnir! You were supposed to watch over her!” he shouted, taking long strides to where the girl had slept.

Grimnir stood from his seat near the fire. “She was asleep. I sought only to hear Asa’s words,” he said, his eyes cast downward. “I am sorry.”

Jorvik frowned. “Come, all of you.” He waved his arm, urging them on. “The man who returns her unharmed gets an extra piece of gold when we’re paid.”

Murmurs of approval sounded out as the men jumped to their feet. Grabbing their weapons, they scattered into the woods in search of the one named Maere.

What in heaven’s name was she doing in a Viking camp? And where was Dylan mac Connall? Maere tried desperately to conjure up images of the last day or two, but none could be found. She stopped under a tree and doubled over, struggling to catch her breath. Her hair, unbound, fell over her face as she gasped. She’d run like a woman possessed by the devil when she awoke and saw the Northmen. And possessed she’d be if they found her. She’d heard all the stories of their plundering, of how they used the women they captured for their own pleasure and then sold them into slavery. For all she knew, the man who called himself her betrothed had already been sold off to another band or killed. And death might be the preferred of the two fates, if she were recaptured.

Maere raised her eyes to the night sky and had started to utter a prayer to God for protection when the moon slipped out from behind its cloak of gray clouds. It was full and fat and glowed eerily green. She took a deep breath.
Nimue
. The name came to her, easily and unbidden. But what did it mean?

Off in the distance, an owl hooted loud and clear. Maere jumped, pulled up the hem of her dress, and began running again.

“She can’t have gone far, Jorvik,” Grimnir said as they pushed their way through the thick foliage. “We’ll find her.”

Jorvik grunted. He had his doubts. The goddess had hinted she wanted nothing to do with the girl, that she had not a care for Eugis and his plans. But if that were true, how was it Maere had suddenly awakened and disappeared? It was unnatural, all of it.

“Over here!” one of the men shouted. The others hurried in his direction. He pointed at the ground with his torch. Though faint, small human footprints showed in the firelight.

Jorvik clasped the man’s upper arm. “If these belong to the girl, the gold is yours.” The man smiled widely as his leader took a step forward, motioning for the others to remain behind. He unsheathed his dagger and walked stealthily along the hidden path. He’d gone not twenty feet when he spotted Maere darting behind a large hawthorn bush directly in front of where he stood. With one hand stretched out in front of him, the other held high with the dagger still drawn, he stepped beside the bush.

Huddled with her back to him was the young woman. Jorvik reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking her around and to her feet. Maere cried out with the sudden pain. She swung her arms and kicked but the Viking easily sidestepped her attack. “Let me go!” she screamed. “You have no right!”

Jorvik pulled her to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her, pinning hers to her sides. “You are mistaken. I have your uncle’s permission.”

Maere tipped her head slightly, trying to look up to see the man who held her captive. It did no good. He held her so tight she could see nothing except the bared chest in front of her. She gasped for air, the musky scent of him overpowering her senses. “You are the one mistaken, sir.” She managed a whisper. “I have no uncle.”

“You are not a good liar.” The Viking pushed her away from him and she stumbled backward, landing hard on the ground. “Do not ever be untruthful with me again.” He crouched down in front of her and ran the tip of his dagger along her breastbone. “Or I will kill you.”

Maere dared not breathe. She heard someone walking up behind her, but kept her eyes steady on her captor. The torchlight of the approaching man illuminated the Viking’s face. Oh dear God! He was the one in her dream, the Northman who grabbed and pulled at her! A scream froze in her throat as it clutched shut with terror. Who was the darker man she saw, the one who rode beside this one? Was it her uncle? Her head swam as she tried to steady her thoughts.

She’d always beheld Eugis as Magrethe had painted him, a kind benevolent man intent on rescuing his niece after the murder of her mother and father. Could it be true that he – not Dylan – was the evil she had sensed so tangibly, hovering over her, chasing her down like the hunter does the stag? Could it be this betrothed of hers was telling the truth about her uncle?

Anger stirred and Maere found her voice. “I do not honor the will of a man I haven’t seen in ten years,” she said. “Nor do I believe the words of a murderer!”

Jorvik raised his eyebrows. “And who is it you claim I murdered, woman?”

“My mother and father. Viking marauders killed them.” Her gaze swept over him in disgust. “Evil demons from the north, the same as you.”

He took a step closer and Maere instinctively inched back until she hit something hard. Looking up, her eyes met another Northman’s; she was against his sturdy legs. Maere glanced around and saw she was surrounded. She stood. Her mouth worked a silent prayer for strength as she frantically searched for a means of escape.

“To what god do you pray?” one asked. “What god do you think can free you from us?”

Maere froze and looked hard at the man who had spoken to her. She squared her shoulders. “I pray to the one true God.”

“She’s a Christian, Grimnir,” Jorvik said. “Raised by those nuns and priests we take such pleasure in visiting.”

The men laughed.

“Not with that wild spin of hair,” one of them called out. “Or with that body.” Grimnir grabbed Maere’s arm and pulled her forward. “Before the sun rises, I’ll have her praying to me!”

They all laughed again. Visions of ancient martyrs meeting their demise arose in Maere’s mind. Sweet Mother, was this to be her fate? To be sacrificed as a whore to these men? To be used until there was nothing left of her then abandoned to death? Well, she would not go down without a fight!

Maere sucked in her breath and, before the Northman could react, slapped him soundly across the face. The stinging sound pierced the night air and silenced all of them. Grimnir shoved her to the ground, knocking the breath out of her.

“Enough!” Jorvik said. “Take her back to the camp.”

Grimnir nodded as Maere watched him intently, struggling to catch her breath. In one swift motion, the man reached down and yanked her to her feet.

Jorvik tucked his dagger into his belt. Then, without warning, his fist connected with Grimnir’s jaw. Maere screamed as Grimnir struggled to keep his footing and still hold onto her. He steadied himself and eyed Jorvik.

“Now let us return to camp.” Jorvik said, looking pointedly at Grimnir. His hand rested once again on his weapon’s carved handle. “And if she escapes again, it is you I’ll hunt down, not her.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dylan groaned as he rolled onto his back. He slowly opened his eyes and, as they focused on the ceiling of the grotto, watched quietly for a moment the play of sunlight against the craggy surface. It was morning and dew-scented air filled the small cave. He sat up and looked to his right. Maere wasn’t there. .

As he stood, he found his legs weak and wobbly, his head spinning. Dylan braced a hand against the wall to steady himself.
What was this
? He was as weak as a babe. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the task at hand – locating Maere. Slowly, his strength began to return, and his head cleared. Dylan opened his eyes again and looked about the small cave. Maere was gone!

He touched his index finger to the center of his forehead.
Calm down
. She may have just stepped outside to see to her privy. Dylan rubbed his jaw as he yawned. He froze. His beard was starting to thicken, not the stubble he would have expected after a night’s sleep. He raised both hands to his face and ran his fingertips over his cheeks.
Sweet Danu
. How long had he slept? By the feel of it, two or three days.