Dragon’s Call: Dystopian Fantasy Page 3

  Shaking my head, I loped to an open area to launch my next spell.

  This trip was shortest of all, the elven world fading as the next one formed around me. I’d no sooner cleared the borderworld’s lintels than Celtic magic blasted me. The sensation brought me to my knees, and waves of emotion swept through me. These were my people. This was where I belonged.

  Stop. It’s compulsion. Pay it no heed.

  No fucking way had I come this far to turn into a maudlin fool.

  I straightened, determined to locate Mother with magic, state my business, and be gone from here. Ceridwen saved me the trouble. “There ye are, Daughter. I knew ye’d come. I saw it in my cauldron.”

  She hadn’t changed one whit over all the years since I’d seen her. Garbed in soft, buff leather trousers and a linen tunic with runes seared into it with magic, she stood tall, regal. Her feet were laced into calf-high boots. Absent the fact we were dressed differently, it was like looking into a mirror. My same telltale hair—cherry red with golden streaks—cascaded around her. Golden eyes, twin to my own, stared back at me. Rings circled most of her fingers, and a golden torc sat at the base of her throat.

  I resisted an inane desire to throw myself into her arms, but Ceridwen wasn’t the huggy type. Never had been. She hadn’t wanted me anywhere near her when I was a toddler. Nothing about that had changed.

  “Good to see you, Mother.” I tried for a positive note to conceal my inner turmoil.

  “Aye, ye as well, lass.”

  “If you foresaw my coming, do you also know why I’m here.”

  Ceridwen nodded. “I did an ill-advised thing. Dabbled where I should not have. Unfortunately, Earth has paid for my folly, but ’tis finally time to set old wrongs—”

  Understanding slammed into me. “What? You’re who broke the world?” I stared at my goddess mother, unbelieving.

  “I may have, but—”

  “But what? How in the hell could you stand by and do nothing? All these years. You could have helped,” I sputtered, too furious to watch my words. “Was Odin’s bauble the linchpin that caused the Breaking?”

  Ceridwen looked annoyed. “All that happened long ago. Why drag out old bones to gnaw?” After a hesitation, she added, “Daughter.”

  I started to announce I was no daughter of hers, but it would undermine my whole reason for being here. I came by my temper honestly. If I angered her, she’d toss me out on my ear. I settled for, “If you knew, why didn’t you return Odin’s bauble long before this? Christ on a crutch. Do you have any idea—?”

  “Silence! I will not have ye speak thusly to me.”

  I ground my teeth. “Give me whatever it is, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Nay. ’Tis a task we must do together.”

  Suddenly suspicious, I asked, “Why?”

  “I’m ready to depart.” Ceridwen offered a smile with a lot of teeth and zero genuine feeling. “Coming?”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “Earth,” she replied.

  Too angry to trust what might emerge from my mouth, I nodded once and felt Ceridwen’s familiar power settle around me, soft, nurturing, full of promises that would never materialize. At least it would cushion the journey through the space between worlds. Once I’d craved her attention, until I learned it came with a very high price tag. Her touch was a velvet-lined trap with steel jaws and the reason I’d left so long ago.

  Mother ceded power to no one. Not then, and not now, either.

  We emerged in the ruins of Inverlochy Castle, the site of the Celts’ erstwhile domain, in the Scottish Highlands. Other than smelling musty, it hadn’t changed in several centuries. Carpets and wall hangings depicting various Celtic victories lined the floor and walls.

  Ceridwen breathed deep, spreading her arms. “Och, I’ve missed this place.”

  Yeah, but not enough to lift a finger to stop the evil spreading its contamination across Earth. I buried the thought deep and spaded magic over it. She was more than capable of reading my mind.

  “When do I get the full story?” I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and glared at the woman who looked just like me.

  “When did ye grow so ill-tempered?”

  I shrugged. “Watching half the world die has that effect.”

  “Are ye finally done with your ridiculous witch fixation?”

  Eyes widening in realization, I gasped out, “You’re jealous.”

  Ceridwen strode close and jabbed my chest with her index finger. “Ye are mine. Mine. Do ye understand me? I allowed ye to leave thinking ye’d get over your fascination with witches once ye saw how weak they are, but it never happened.”

  Already near boiling, my temper erupted. I jabbed Ceridwen back. “I am no one’s woman but my own. You’re why I left.”

  “That’s impossible. Ye were young, full of hubris—”

  I chopped a hand through the air between us as the whole, unbelievable picture took shape. My autocratic bitch of a goddess mother had engineered breaking the world to force me back to her side. When it hadn’t worked, she’d herded the Celts to safety and left everyone else to rot.

  “I’m ashamed to be related to you.”

  “I offer you one chance to take those words back, Daughter.” Mother’s golden eyes caught fire. “Do. It. Now.”

  “Or?”

  Ceridwen’s features turned menacing, any beauty long gone. “Or the banishment shall become permanent.”

  A painful arrow lodged beneath my breastbone, but how could I lose something I’d never had? I kicked my shoulders back. “Fine. Have it your way, Mother. You always do. Give me Odin’s trinket, and I’ll never darken your door again.” I paused for a beat. “Just so we’re clear, you didn’t banish me. I left of my own free will.”

  For scant moments, Ceridwen’s mask slipped. If I hadn’t been looking right at her, I’d have missed the shock—and the hurt. The goddess tilted her chin at a defiant angle I remembered only too well.

  “While we’re at it,” I forged ahead. “If this is the last time I’ll ever see you, who the fuck was my father? You owe me that much.”

  “I owe you nothing,” Ceridwen snapped back.

  Before I could say anything, the big doors at the end of the hall slammed against their stops. Odin strode in, chains clanking and leather chaps creaking as they brushed against each other. His two ravens, Huginn and Muninn—thought and memory—rode on his shoulders. For once they weren’t cawing up a storm.

  Obviously, he’d known where Mother was all along. I’d been played.

  “Well met, Goddess.” He mimed a parody of a bow in Ceridwen’s direction

  She barely glanced his way. “As usual, your timing couldn’t be worse.”

  He shrugged and trotted to where we stood. “Fine. I see ye’ve been reunited with your errant spawn. Pay up, and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Pay up?” I shrieked. “What the unholy hell? This whole thing was nothing but a charade.” I launched myself at my mother, tugging her hair and punching her wherever my fists landed. Somehow, she was in cahoots with Odin, and his story about a bauble she’d stolen had been pure fabrication.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Och, and I do love a good cat fight. Get cracking, wenches.” The ravens quorked merrily, apparently sharing their master’s opinion.

  My next punch landed square in the middle of Mother’s nose, but the one after that blasted through empty air. Ceridwen was gone. I wrapped my arms around myself. Sobs wracked me. Fury? Loss? Relief? I felt like a chump. A fool, but I couldn’t stop crying.

  Odin grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Where’d she go? Poxy slut never paid me.”

  I drew magic. Enough to make him let go fast. “That would be your problem. Watch who you bargain with.”

  One of the ravens divebombed me. Before I could flatten it with magic, it hustled back to Odin’s shoulder.

  “Mayhap, I should take you with me after all.” He regarded me speculatively out of shrewd eyes.

&nbs
p; I shrugged. “No blood bond. How do you think you’re going to accomplish that?”

  “Ye’re a woman of your word. Unlike your Mother—”

  “I’m nothing like her,” I agreed. “Thank every god or goddess who ever walked, but it doesn’t mean I wish to join the collection of dead things that trail after you.”

  “Watch it. Ye’re talking about my men.”

  “So.” I slitted my eyes. “That night on the moors, you were hunting for me?”

  He brayed laughter. “Aye, and ye fell into my lap unexpectedly, right after I found the young, succulent one with blood running from her.” He laughed harder. “Hell, she’d never have noticed a touch more blood after I took her maidenhead. I sacrificed a whole lot when ye showed up, and I figured out who ye were.”

  “Money trumps sex, eh?”

  “Every damn time, lass.” He leered at me. “Never got my money, but mayhap I can still have t’ other. Ye’re no maid, but ye’ll do—as a consolation prize.” He patted his groin.

  Before he dragged out his cock, I said, “I propose a bargain.”

  “Ye’re scarcely in a bargaining position, lassie.” One hand had dipped beneath the skins draped around him, digging for his member.

  “Maybe not. Do you know who my da was?”

  He stared at me, lust yielding to surprise. Out of all the possibilities that could have come out of my mouth, he hadn’t expected that question. At least he quit grappling with his dick.

  “Well?” I pressed. “Do you?” For good measure, I cast a hasty truth spell and tossed it about his beefy shoulders. It disturbed the clumps of rotting hides he wore when he led the Hunt. For long moments the stench of death filled the Celts’ hall.

  “Say I did, ahem, have access to that prime bit of knowledge—” he began.

  I anticipated his question. “I would join the Hunt for a limited time. One month only. During that month, I would ride with you, but no man will touch me. No woman, either.”

  “Two months.” He showed me a mouthful of teeth. The stink in the room thickened into a nauseating brew.

  I shook my head. “One month. Take it or leave it.”

  “Ye drive a hard bargain, lassie.”

  I bared my teeth at him. “Will ye tell me or no?” I aped his brogue. “Or are ye still playing me when ye have naught to tell but conjecture or outright lies.”

  “Celtic bitch,” he snarled.

  “Norse bastard,” I countered and blew out a tired breath. “This is stupid. I’m done. I’m leaving.”

  “Are ye quite certain? Anyone with sufficient power can determine bloodlines.”

  I cocked my head to one side, regarding him. “True enough, yet I can’t unearth my own. I’ve tried.”

  “They’re hidden.” He sharpened his gaze. “I can see the shrouding. Breaking through it should be simple enough.”

  “No thank you.” The thought of his slimy magic touching me turned my stomach. As things were, I’d be off my feed for a week. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, since the larder was nearly empty.

  He’d begun rattling off all the things he was god over. I stopped listening after the dead, inspiration, battle frenzy, and ecstasy. Of course, he’d have to toss that latter one in. He hadn’t given up trying to fuck me.

  Before he could come up with other inducements, I stood tall, focused my power, and instructed it take me back to the witches.

  My family.

  My home.

  At least I didn’t have to face the void between worlds a third time. Inverlochy Castle wasn’t far from my cave. Though the castle lay in ruins, invisible to men who marched over its grounds every day, being there had given me an idea. My teleport magic was slower to respond than I would have liked, but Odin’s burly form finally vanished.

  A harsh smile forced its way out. Before, I hadn’t known what kind of spell to look for to neutralize the Breaking. Now I did. Perhaps I could defuse Ceridwen’s damage, no matter how many ways my mother had reinforced the casting.

  It was at least possible since we held the same magic.

  Somewhere along the line, I’d unearth the truth about my father. I hadn’t thought about him in a very long time, but he’d rocketed to the forefront of my mind.

  Why now?

  Was everything connected in some way I had yet to figure out?

  Before the walls of my room shaped themselves around me, I could have sworn I wasn’t alone with my spell. The impression was fleeting, so brief I chalked it off to exhaustion.

  No one followed me into my chamber. Once I’d sealed myself in with magic, I pitched facedown on my narrow bed and willed myself to sleep. If I hadn’t, I’d have replayed my interaction with Ceridwen.

  Over and over again.

  I’d always known what a self-absorbed bitch she was, but even a salamander was a better mother than mine. She’d rained destruction down on mankind to drive me back to her side. For what? Not because she loved me. I wasn’t anything more than a possession who’d strayed from her circle.

  I ripped off the amulet, ring, and circlet. Tomorrow, I’d bury them deep and never, never use them again. My pillow was damp with tears before I finally, mercifully, fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Three, Bjorn

  The rich earthy smell of Vanaheim’s air billowed around me as I swung my broadsword in an arc above my head.

  “What?” Jarle smirked. “Are you posing for a painting? Or are we sparring?”

  Medium height and barrel-chested, he’d been my arms instructor all my life. At least the part of it where I could heft a sword. His thick black hair had been braided out of the way and fell down his back to his knees. Clad in dark brown hunting leathers, he’d strapped a light coat of mail over his garments. Vambraces covered his lower arms. A length of leather cording was tied around his forehead to keep sweat out of his hazel eyes. Like me, he was barefoot.

  I planted my right foot so the heavy weapon wouldn’t unbalance me and swung. Low, fast, and from the left.

  Jarle parried my blow easily. Shifting his own blade to one hand he made come-along motions with the other. I knew that gesture. It meant I should try harder. I did. This time, I put my back into it and was rewarded by a muted grunt. I swear, Jarle is just like Yggdrasil, the One Tree. It doesn’t move, either, and its roots bind the Nine Worlds together in ways too convoluted for my magic to follow or understand.

  We sparred beneath a tiny section of its magnificence. Smaller trees, probably offshoots, grew in a grove around us. Green, rolling moors extended out from Yggdrasil. In the distance, massive snow-capped mountains shot up from the valley floor. Although they’re not visible from here, deep canyons cut into the ground between where we are and the mountains. Fissures that make travel on foot impossible.

  Ten blows later, my breath came hard. Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I was sorry I’d forgotten my own leather band.

  “Two more,” Jarle urged.

  My arms felt like they didn’t even belong to me anymore. I gritted my teeth and hefted the blade. Because it took less effort than a swing, I cleaved it straight down. Jarle hooted laughter and sidestepped me easily enough, but I’d anticipated his move.

  For once I guessed correctly and swiped him from the side. My sword clanged against his armor. I hadn’t hurt him, but maybe he’d have a bruise across his ribs. A small one.

  A herd of wildebeests sashayed by. Followed by the tiny birds that feed off their hides. Above us, the occasional dragon winged past, bugling.

  “Nice work.” Jarle bobbed his head my way.

  My eyes widened. Praise from Jarle was so rare as to be almost nonexistent.

  I was still panting, but I managed, “Last time you said something nice was a dozen years ago.”

  “Eh, you’re a slow learner.”

  I laughed, but his words stung. I was a wizard by trade, not a warrior. “Why can’t I use magic?” I asked for the millionth time. “The blade would be lighter. I’d be faster, and—”

  “Bec
ause magic can run out,” he spoke over me. “If you’ve grown dependent on it, you’ll be lost if you run it down to nothing.” Stomping toward me, he yanked a flask from one of his many belt hooks, drank deep, and handed it over.

  I downed a few swallows of mead, savoring the rich honey-based brew. This batch tasted of heather and clover. Every vat was different depending on what the bees had been eating.

  I sank to a crouch. Jarle unbuckled his mail and knelt next to me; I gave his flask back. For a while, we traded drinking and getting our breath back. Vanaheim is very different from Asgard. That world is in the sky, and the gods there think they’re better than we are.

  Of course Vanaheim differs from Midgard too. Humans live there, and that portion of the Nine Worlds is in deep trouble.

  A while back, magic got loose and did a whole lot of damage. Mortals called it the Breaking, and it killed off over half of them. Not much of a loss, if you ask me. They’d been breeding like rats for far too long. At first, we were convinced it was the dark gods’ work. Or the Devil and his minions had gotten bored enough to leave Hell and kick up their heels. Notice I said Hell. It’s very different from our Hel, which is ruled jointly by a goddess of the same name and our dead. Yes, they have a role too. I believe the modern term is self-governing.

  Another rumor behind the Breaking was that Tantalus got loose. Remember him? He’s who cooked up his children and fed them to the other gods in a stew.

  I glanced at Yggdrasil. The One Tree contained the roots of everything, of all life. I’d examined it closely after the Breaking and been relieved only Midgard had been affected. So far.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jarle asked.

  I snorted. He was certain I’d bemoan what a poor swordsman I was, but for once it wasn’t foremost in my mind. “The Breaking,” I replied.

  He rocked back on his heels. “Why? It didn’t impact us.”

  “Of course it did,” I retorted.

  “How?” Jarle furled his dark brows. “Mortals come and go. Surely, you’re not concerned about a few million dead.”

  I exhaled slowly. How to explain the concept of dynamic balance? “You know how watching your opponent is critical?” I asked. At Jarle’s nod, I went on. “Midgard’s woes shifted the balance among the Nine Worlds, much like the crux of a battle alters when one fighter moves out of the way.”