Pagan Fire (13 page)

A small portal opened, just large enough to reveal an old man’s face, blackened with soot. “Not likely, considering your escort.” The man snorted as he looked past Eugis, to the Vikings lined up neatly behind him. “I am Father John, the head of this monastery. Not one of you will be allowed in here. Unlike some of our brothers, we are not averse to defending ourselves.” He glanced up and Eugis followed his gaze. Several priests were assembled at the top of the wall, bows in hand, arrows pointed and ready to fly.

“Consider yourself lucky, man,” John continued. “The young woman you call your niece was tainted with the devil’s blood. We’re glad to be rid of her.”

“I beg your pardon?” A shiver ran the length of Eugis’s spine and the hair on his arms prickled. “Did you say ‘tainted’?”

“Raised a girl from the dead, she did. I saw the results of her mischief with my own eyes,” the priest said. “Now, I’ll say nothing more to you. Take the Northmen and leave.” With these words, Father John slammed the small portal shut.

Raised a girl from the dead? Was the man certain?
Even in his strangest imaginings, Eugis hadn’t dreamt that such a power could be granted. He spun the horse around to face the men behind him. One of the northerners rode forward.

“What is wrong?” the rider asked.

Eugis spat on the ground. “They say Abbess Magrethe is dead, Jorvik. And that my niece Maere is gone as well.”

Eugis called back over his shoulder to Father John. “One last question, then we’ll be on our way, kind priest.”

“You test my patience, man. I’ll allow it only if it means you will truly leave this time.”

“I swear,” Eugis said.
On my dead brother’s body.
“Do you know where the girl might have gone?”

“All I can tell you is that she left with her betrothed. Which you will well know if you are who you say you are, since he bore a document with her uncle’s mark on it. I saw it myself.”

Betrothed?!
The word screamed inside Eugis’ head.
What mischief was this?
“Please, sir.” He gritted his teeth together. “You must tell me. Did this man have a name?”

“So you don’t know, do you?” Father John laughed sharply. “I’m done with your questions. I have dead to tend.”

Eugis turned the horse and approached the gate again. Ten years of waiting for this day had worn his patience thin. “You will tell me, old man, or I will order my men to knock this gate down and kill all of you.” He choked out the words, sickened by what he’d discovered so far. “You have my word on this.”

The small door swung open again. Father John eyed him, and then said, “It was a strange young man. Said his name was Dylan mac Connall. And like I’ve already told you, he bore betrothal papers with your mark on them.”

Eugis’s head reeled. He doubled over, sending his gray hair spilling over his blue eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.
This was impossible! His own men had killed the boy all those years ago. Could it be an imposter?
He searched his mind for some explanation, but could find none.
No, it had to be Fox’s son
. He knew this in his gut, knew it with his entire being.
Somehow, the boy had survived the attack.

Eugis turned his ride around and trotted back to his men, a mixed group of Vikings and Britons. “Come, Jorvik. We have much planning to do.” Eugis pulled his mount and galloped off in the direction of the deep green forest surrounding the grounds of the abbey, the others falling in behind him.

Chapter Fourteen

Riding away from the shadow of Saint Columba’s, Eugis and his men made their way carefully through the thick brambles and back to the clearing where they had spent the previous night. The riders dismounted and left the horses, loosely tied, to forage in a patch of tall grass.

One of the men tossed a log on the pile of dead ashes left from the prior evening’s dinner fire, while another began working a stick against a rock. A Northman laid some dried bits of grass on the stone once the stick began to smoke. In a few moments, a small fire was started. They placed more grass and twigs on the flames, feeding it until it was burning well enough to accept larger logs.

The remaining riders sat in a circle on the dew-covered ground and began to remove bits of dried meat and hard bread from the skin pouches slung over their shoulders. Eugis rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them from the chill that had overtaken his body since leaving Columba’s. When he finally felt insulated against the damp air, he waved his hand, motioning for Jorvik to follow him as he walked away from the others.

The Viking acknowledged the gesture with a slight nod. He stuffed the last bit of meat into his mouth and – with surprising ease for one as large as he – unfolded his war-hardened body from his haunches. Approaching Eugis, he pulled his dark blonde hair away from his steely eyes and tied it with a leather thong. He didn’t speak, but only watched the older man, waiting for him to begin.

“We have to find her,” Eugis said, his back to the other man. “I’ve waited too long for this. I tell you, I won’t have her taken by another.” His voice grew louder. “She
will
be mine. Her powers
will
be mine.” He turned to face Jorvik. His blue eyes were dark and blazing, his face contorted in anger.

“What will you do?” Jorvik asked, his voice steady, his expression blank.

Eugis laughed and some of his stress disappeared. “You Northmen do have a talent for getting to the point, don’t you? No mincing of words, just pure action.”

“Our companion, Skuld, is a
rynstr
. We can ask him to cast the runes. If the
landvaettir
in this area are friendly, they will position the stones just so and tell us the path the pair you seek are traveling.” Jorvik shrugged. “Of course, you can’t always trust the land spirits. If they’ve become offended for some reason, they could send us in circles.” He rested his hand on the carved bone hilt of a dagger tucked carefully in his leather waistband. “What say you to this?”

“I have no need of Skuld, Jorvik.” Taking a deep breath, Eugis rubbed his lightly bearded chin. “I know Dylan. If indeed this is him, I would venture to guess that he would take Maere back to their village.” Eugis’s voice trailed off as a raven shrieked in the distance, its loud discordant song filling the forest air. The trees leaned forward as the wind increased and their light green leaves brushed against the ground. A flurry of birds rose overhead, fleeing the safety of their perches. The raven screamed again, this time much closer, before landing on a boulder several feet away from the two men.

“It is Hugginn, Odhinn’s messenger to the nine worlds!” Jorvik said. He fell to one knee and dropped his head, clasping his hands before him. “You have angered the gods with this talk of taking power that is not yours.”

“Nay, my friend.” Eugis lightly touched the other man’s shoulder and he looked up. “I believe it is someone even greater than your Odhinn,” he whispered, his eyes glistening. “It is the goddess Morrigu.”

The raven blinked at the pair, and turned its head sideways. Eugis took a cautious step toward the animal. It spread its wings. The feathers slowly dropped to the ground and melted away as its body began to transform. In the span of a few breaths, a nude woman stood before them. Jorvik jumped to his feet, his hand once again on the dagger.

Eugis opened his arms wide and bowed low. “Welcome, my Lady.” His mouth watered as she approached them. “It’s been many years since you have blessed me with your presence.”

Without speaking, the goddess reached out her hand and ran a sharp fingernail across Eugis’ cheek, leaving a trail of blood on his skin. He licked his lips as the warm liquid trickled into the corner of his mouth.

Morrigu leaned forward and pressed her bare breasts against Eugis’s leather tunic. “You have found favor with me, Eugis cu Llwyr,” she whispered. “I understand you seek power, that you seek two people.”

“Yes, my Lady, ‘tis true,” he said, breathless, his eyes half-closed with desire as the goddess continued to rub against him.

“I will tell you where they have gone, for I would see them receive their proper reward.” She smiled, her red lips full and smooth against her white teeth. “But first you must promise to worship me. As I deserve to be worshipped.”

Eugis ran his splayed fingers down the sides of her body. He caught his breath as he stared into the depths of her silver eyes.
She is so beautiful. And so deadly.
Jorvik cleared his throat and took a step forward. His foot came down on a branch and it cracked loudly, breaking the spell.

“Leave us,” Eugis said, his eyes never leaving the goddess’. “We will finish our discussion later.”

“There is no good in playing with her kind,” Jorvik said. He nodded toward Morrigu. “Especially those that reek evil such as this one.”

Eugis glanced at him. “I will hear none of this talk. Leave us now.”

Morrigu smiled and entwined her fingers in Eugis’s hair. “Know this, Dylan is as aware of Maere’s power as you are. He seeks it as well.” She forced his mouth to hers. The blood on his cheek flowed and mixed between their lips.

“Know your assumption about them is also true. They travel north,” Morrigu whispered between hard kisses. She pushed him to the ground, straddling his tall thin body. As she lowered herself, Morrigu whispered again, “North to Tintagel.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dylan sat near the waning embers of the evening fire, and stared at the crescent moon. A long, willowy cloud passed in front of its dwindling face, paused for a moment, then continued on its journey with the help of the night breeze. Strands of Dylan’s black hair lifted lightly from his shoulders, then settled in place again.

He picked up a stick and poked at the glowing bits of wood. The stick flamed slightly at its tip for a moment, then smoldered. The aromatic scent of pine wafted toward Dylan. The scent filled him, made him alert, strong with the life force of the very tree itself. His cheeks burned, despite the coolness of the night. His muscles grew taut beneath the leather tunic he now wore.

A woman’s muffled cry rose from his left. Dylan dropped the stick as he turned his head in the direction of the sound. Maere rolled onto her side and faced him, her eyes closed in slumber. She made a small sound again. Her hands balled into fists, then relaxed. It had been this way the last three nights, ever since their escape from the abbey. Whatever demons haunted her – and he was certain there were many, with all she’d been through – they preferred the dark cover of dreams to vent their passion.

In the few days they had been together, she hadn’t offered any hint of recognition, any indication that she knew who he was. He had allowed himself to believe, in the beginning, that she’d only pretended not to know. Perhaps she’d learned to hide her secrets from the nuns, play along with them so as not to be punished. That would have been much like the Maere he remembered. But if it were so, surely she would have revealed this to him by now.

He shook his head.
No
. The more time he spent with Maere, the more he realized the truth—she had wedged a boulder so large between her memories and her waking mind that he wondered if it would ever be possible to loosen it. Dylan was reminded of a time when they were small and Maere had sought to move a sacred stone out of her path. Back then she was as stubborn as they came. He could see her even now, eight winters old, full of herself, and in charge of the world. He chuckled at the memory.

Maere was walking home from the forest after one of their explorations. She was mad at him – as she was a good part of the time – so he kept his distance behind her. She suddenly stopped in her tracks when she came to a round rock stuck in the center of the path. She apparently decided to take her anger out on the poor unsuspecting stone, because she kicked it. She yelped in pain and then kicked it again, grunting with frustration when it wouldn’t budge for her.

“Cursed stone!” she said, rubbing her bare toes. “I’ll see to it you don’t hurt anyone else. I will!” She bent over and dug her fingers in under its edges. She tugged and tugged until it began to loosen. Maere stood upright and smiled. “See? I told you, didn’t I?” She bent back down and pulled it from its resting place.

“Stop that, girl!”

Maere spun around, dropping the stone. It rolled and settled back into its hole with a thud. “I didn’t do anything, Uncle Eugis.” She hid her dirt-covered hands behind her back.
Oh, this wasn’t good at all. Uncle Eugis was the Chief of her clan, sharing the duty with her father, and a Dyrrwed high priest to boot.
She looked away, hoping he wouldn’t see her eyes when she spoke. “To tell the truth, I didn’t.”

“You’re a lying child, aren’t you Maere?” Eugis sighed and shook his head. His brown hair, bobbed at the ears, jumped with the motion. “Your mother and father protect you too much.” He studied her, hard, his eyes squinting so they looked like dark slits in his thin gray face. “A spoiled girl deserving of a whipping, if you ask me. You know better than to disturb the sacred rocks.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and she cringed. “Why’d you do it? Lie to me and I swear I’ll beat you myself.”

Maere stared at her father’s brother as fat tears began to roll down her cheeks.
How could one of them be so nice and the other so mean?
“It was in my way.”

“In your way?” he thundered. “In your way?” He pointed at the rock. “You would move something that has been in place since the beginning of time simply because it was in your way?”

Maere shrugged and wiped at the tears, leaving streaks of mud on her cheeks. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Eugis let go of her, disgusted. “Perhaps you could have gone around it?”

Maere tilted her head as she thought over his answer.
Well, that certainly was one way to manage the problem, wasn’t it?

She opened her mouth to say she would think about it, then stopped short. Up the path, behind her uncle, Dylan was running at breakneck speed. And he was headed straight for Eugis! Her eyes grew wide. Uncle Eugis was in one of his best robes, since he was preparing for tomorrow night’s Beltane feast, and Dylan would surely knock him to the ground if one of them didn’t quickly veer away.