Storm Maiden (46 page)

“I will come back,” Dag promised.

“Woman! Fiona! Open the door!”

The loud male voice jerked Fiona out of her
fitful sleep. She sat up.
Wolves!
was her first thought,
then she realized that wolves didn’t yell.

“Dag sent me. Let me in!” the man
hollered.

Fiona climbed off the bedshelf and crept
closer to the door. “Who are you?” she asked in a quavering
voice.

“My name is Ellisil, son of Skirnir. I am
sword brother to Dag. I rode with him to rescue you.”

Fiona took a deep breath, trying to decide
whether to believe this man who so harshly demanded that she let
him in. She did not know his voice. How was she to be certain he
was not someone sent by Sigurd to drag her back to
Engvakkirsted?

“Damn it, woman, I’m cold and weary and the
wolves are circling closer. If you don’t let me in, I’ll get my
horses and ride off.”

“Those are your horses?”

There was a slight hesitation. “They are my
father’s horses, although I have had the care of them since they
were foals. Skirnir agreed to let Dag and me ride them so we could
reach the steading before Sigurd put you to death.”

Fiona made up her mind and went to unbar the
door. The mare had been well-cared for and expertly trained. A man
who took such an interest in animals was more likely to be a friend
of Dag’s than Sigurd’s.

She only had a glimpse of the man’s
silhouette before he joined her in the blackness of the
shieling.
Other than the fact that he was smaller than Dag,
she had no idea what he looked like.

Ellisil shut the door. “Thor’s hammer, I am
half-froze. Have you no flint, woman, with which to make a
fire?”

“There may be some in the horse’s pack, but
I did not take time to look. After I found the food, I heard the
wolves....” Fiona’s voice trailed off in a horrified gasp. “What if
the wolves attack the horses?”

“My horses are trained to fight. Any wolf
who ventures into the lean-to will get his skull smashed. It is not
so late in the season that the wild creatures are desperate for
food.”

Fiona relaxed slightly, acknowledging the
wisdom of his words. She heard rustling sounds as the man opened a
pack of some sort and fumbled inside. A flint flared near the
hearth. In moments, Ellisil had a fire going.

He added wood from a pile by the door to the
growing blaze, then rubbed his hands together over the flames.
Fiona shivered and moved forward, suddenly realizing how cold she
was, even with Dag’s heavy fur-lined tunic. Her bare feet were the
worst, so numb by now that she could scarcely feel them. She lifted
the ornate kirtle and stuck one foot close to the blaze.

Ellisil turned toward her, and she
recognized him as the man she had seen Dag talking to at the
Thing.
His gaze moved over her, lingering for a moment on
her leg bared to the fire’s warmth. Unease replaced her relief. The
warrior’s eyes returned to her face; there was awe in his
expression, and a hint of fear. “Are you really a
volva?”
he
asked.

Fiona lowered her leg and covered it with
the flowing skirt of the kirtle. “What’s a
volva?”

“A woman who can foretell the future and
cast spells.”

“You mean a wise woman?”

“
Nei.
Most steadings have a healer,
but the ability to do true magic is rare.”

“Did Dag tell you I was?”

Ellisil shook his head.

Fiona sighed. “If I knew magic, do you think
I would have bungled things so badly that Sigurd almost had me
executed?”

Ellisil stared at her, then laughed,
banishing the tension between them. The Norseman dug inside his
pack again and took out a skin. He offered it to Fiona.

She shook her head. “We should save it for
Dag.” Thinking of her lover, alone at the steading, her grinding
fear resumed. “Do you think Sigurd will listen to Dag?” she
asked.

“I do not think Sigurd will imprison his
brother, if that’s what you ask. Whether he will hear the sense in
Dag’s words is another thing. I do not know Sigurd well enough to
say.”

“Dag told me that you knew each other as
boys,” Fiona said.

Ellisil nodded.

“Were you and Dag close?”

Ellisil smiled and shook his head. “Not so
you would notice. We met every year at the
Allthing
and
fought constantly, as boys will. Always we were rivals, vying to
beat each other in races, wrestling, battle practice, every sort of
skill. Then Dag grew bigger than I, and except for footraces, I
could no longer beat him. I almost hated him then.” He laughed
again. “But now we are men, planning a great adventure. I am
pleased Dag asked me to make this journey to Ireland with him. It
seems almost too good to be true—to have land of our own.”

“What do you mean?” Fiona’s throat felt dry.
Did Dag plan to claim her father’s lands? The thought startled
her.

Ellisil gave her a curious look. “Dag said
you had agreed to help us.”

“
Ja,
of course I will.” Fiona could
not decide if she were elated or angry. Dag did not mean to return
her to Ireland and then sail away, but instead, intended to conquer
her people and set himself up as chieftain. It was a bold,
audacious plan, and she could not help but admire it. Even so, she
was hurt he had not discussed the matter with her. He arrogantly
assumed she would be delighted to hand over her inheritance to
him.

“Dag is the ideal leader for this voyage,”
Ellisil enthused. “A superb seaman, valiant warrior... and he knows
the Irish language and terrain as well. If anyone can conquer the
Irish, it is he.”

Fiona gritted her teeth. She had not been
conquered! She had given her love freely; if Dag did not understand
the difference...

There was a thudding sound at the
shieling
entrance, and a voice spoke, low and urgent,
“Fiona? Ellisil?”

Ellisil jumped up to unbar the door and let
Dag in. Fiona remained seated, staring into the flames.

Dag ducked through the doorway, his tall
form filling the small shelter to bursting. Fiona tried not to look
at him, but she could not help it. One glimpse and her heart turned
over.

“Fiona,” Dag said huskily. He stepped
awkwardly around the hearth, then knelt beside her and pulled her
into his arms.

Fiona exhaled in a gasp. Nothing mattered
but to have Dag hold her. She could not resist this man. He
possessed her, stole her soul. No matter what he did, she would not
stop loving him.

“Fiona.
Macushla.”
Dag sighed against
her hair. “I will never let you go.”

Dag climbed onto the bedshelf and pulled
Fiona close to his chest. She had hardly said a word to him since
his arrival. No doubt she was still in shock. Stroking his fingers
through her tangled hair, he listened to Ellisil’s soft snoring and
tried to relax. Although he had saved Fiona and his brother’s ship,
threats still clouded the future. Brodir, mad with hatred as he
was, could strike at anytime.

Fiona touched his face. “Dag, why do you not
sleep?”

Dag gathered her more tightly against his
chest. “I was thinking about all that is ahead of us.”

There was silence, then Fiona asked, “Is it
true you mean to claim my father’s lands?”

Dag took a deep breath. He could not tell
from her voice what she thought of his plan. Would she agree to aid
him? “
Ja
, I do.”

She made an indigant sound and sat up. “And
you assumed I would help you. You didn’t even bother to
ask
me!”

Dag felt his heart begin to pound. “I... I
had hoped you would approve of my plan. If you wed me, my claim to
the land might have weight with the other chieftains.”

“Wed you! Who said I would agree to wed you?
You have not even asked!”

His heart seemed to shrivel and grow cold.
Had he been wrong to think she cared for him?

“Men!” Fiona’s voice rose in exasperation.
Dag knew Ellisil must surely be awake and listening. “They never
think to explain their reasoning,” she fumed. “You treat me as if I
were a little child! If only you would share things with me, Dag,
ask for my help...”

“I
am
asking,” Dag said desperately.
He saw his whole drearn crumbling before his eyes.

“Asking what?”

“I am asking you to wed me! To aid me!”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“
Ja,
why do you do this? Why do you
want my aid?”

Dag took another deep breath. “This is the
only way we can be together, Fiona. I have my pride as well. I
can’t give up everything for you—my home, my people—without having
a plan for the future. I won’t live in exile or start over again as
oathman to another jarl. I want to be master of my own lands, my
own hall.”

Fiona was silent for a moment. When she
spoke, her voice was soft. “I love you, Dag. I would not want you
to be less than you are—a warrior, a trader, a seaman, a
leader.
I think you will make a fine chieftain.”

“You
will
wed me?” Dag asked, half
incredulous. “You will validate my claim to your father’s
lands?”

“
Ja,
Dag, you had only to ask.”

He pulled her down next to him, burying his
face in the warmth of her neck. “Ah, Fiona, how I love you.”

Ellisil raised his head from his pallet on
the floor. “Odin’s fists, Dag, will you go to sleep? Between your
bickering and your love prattle—I vow I have a headache from
listening to you!”

Fiona giggled and snuggled closer. Dag
sighed contentedly and whispered, “I have waited long to hear you
speak of love.”

“ ‘Tis true. I do love you, Dag.”

“As I love you, Fiona.”

“Viking and Irish—we will go back to Eire
and found the dynasty my father dreamed of.”

Dag closed his eyes. With Fiona at his side,
he could do anything.

The journey back to Skirnir’s steading took
all of the next day, but no one minded. They were busy discussing
plans for the journey to Ireland. The ship was ready; now they had
merely to pack provisions and armaments and gather warriors to
accompany them.

“Who of Sigurd’s oathmen will want to join
us?” Ellisil asked as they rode among the steep hills, Fiona riding
astride in front of Dag on the stallion.

Dag shook his head. “I would have a care who
I took. I don’t mean to rob Sigurd of the men he needs to rebuild
the longhouse. I would sail with only younger, unmarried warriors
who have lesser ties to Engvakkirsted. Rorig, Utgard, and Gudrod,
perhaps.”

“Rorig means to wed Breaca,” said Fiona.

“Truly?” Dag asked in surprise. “Where did
he get the wealth to buy her?”

“In the last raid. Sigurd and the others
were not there when the longhouse burned because they went to hunt
down the Agirssons. Apparently, they received a reward from the
Thorvald family for capturing the outlaws and Sigurd gave Breaca to
Rorig as his portion.”

“And what happened to the Agirsson
brothers?” Ellisil asked.

“I didn’t hear.” Fiona shuddered. “In truth,
I didn’t want to know.”

“I will ask Rorig to come with us,” Dag
decided. “And bring Breaca to keep you company. Although I mislike
taking Breaca away when Mina needs her services.”

“As Breaca is breeding, she will not be able
to do as much this winter as she once could.”

“She is with child? When does it come?”

“Not until sowing time, I believe,” Fiona
answered. “I did not ask Breaca much about it. I was preoccupied
with my own troubles, and I admit to being jealous as well.”

“Jealous?” Dag asked in surprise. He grasped
her shoulder and turned her around until her eyes meant his. “You
wish you carried my babe?”

“
Ja
, Dag.” Fiona smiled.

The blue of his eyes deepened until they
gleamed like the fairest of summer skies. “I vow, I will give you a
babe.”

She blushed and looked toward Ellisil.

Dag leaned close to whisper in her ear, “We
will begin tonight, Fiona.” A hot thrill went through her, making
her ache. How she had missed Dag’s loving!

“Would you purchase the thrall named Aeddan
from your brother?” Ellisil asked, ignoring their intimate
conversation. “He seems a likely boy, and that he rode so far to
warn you of Fiona’s plight speaks well of his loyalty.”

“
Ja,
I would have one such as him to
tend my animals, when I have them,” Dag mused. “I wonder if any of
Donall’s horses escaped the flames.”

“How could they?” Fiona asked. “Penned in
the palisade as they were, they surely succumbed to the smoke.”

“
Nei,
I freed them.”

This time, Fiona jerked around to face Dag.
“When?”

“After I rescued you from my brother. A fool
thing to do, wounded as I was, but I couldn’t help myself. Never I
could I bear to see beasts suffer.”

Fiona stared at Dag, amazed.

“You are pleased?” Dag asked, his mouth
quirking.

“Of course I’m pleased. Do you fish for
words of praise for your brave deed?” she teased.

“We don’t know that the horses live,” Dag
reminded her. “They might have been trapped by the flames and
perished.”

“If the chieftain’s horses remain alive,
that would aid us greatly,” Ellisil said. “But it will not feed us
this winter. What of other livestock and grain? ‘Twas it all
destroyed in the raid?”

Dag shook his head. “I told Sigurd not to
fire the grain supply, and he did not. Dunsheauna’s cattle and
sheep were also left untouched, although they were likely scattered
and are now claimed by other chieftains. We may have to purchase
stock to survive through the winter.”

“Or raid for it,” Ellisil suggested, his
eyes gleaming.

“
Nei,
I’d not make enemies of my
neighbors so soon. If we are to be accepted as settlers rather than
raiders, we must not fight except to keep what is ours by right of
Fiona’s inheritance.”