Chapter 1
That damn stubborn dragon would be the death of him.
The ice dragons from northern frigid lands of Niflheim required two riders. That knowledge became all the more apparent when the beast Steinn Eriksson rode bucked hard to the right.
“Shit!” His sword swing whistled through the air, missing the raider by mere inches.
The beast snarled beneath him, soaring toward the ground to gain momentum.
“Damn it, Knurre!” he roared. The dragon snorted in reply. As if it cared.
The raider, riding a dark, crimson-colored fire dragon soared low against the rocky outcroppings. Out here in Muspellheim’s Outlands, among the dunes and craggy dormant volcanoes, there weren’t many places to hide. But what his enemies made up for in the lack of hiding places they used sheer numbers to accomplish. Four other men circled behind him. He didn’t need to see to know their location. The sounds of their dragons’ wings as they re-grouped into an attack formation was all too clear.
He had a far larger, stronger beast. And yet mistakes continued to be made.
Two raiders dived, their dragons hissing. From the corner of his eye they swept in from the right. As they approached, the grip on his sword tightened. He’d damn well not die in a stubborn dragon’s hands. He dug his boot heels into footrests on the wide leather saddle and veered right. The dragon went left. Claws swooped through the air, barely missing his head. Another set scraped against the mail armor on his shoulders and ended up raking his left shoulder blade.
He grunted. The pain was immediate.
Steinn pulled hard on the reins, but Knurre didn’t obey. Why did it have to be a fight each and every single time? Each dragon around him worked as a team. He could practically hear his father spitting words in his ear. “Control your mount, boy! Before your enemies control how you enter the afterlife!”
And what if the mount couldn’t be controlled?
His gaze swept to the countryside. No more than five miles ahead, the borderline to his clan’s lands loomed. Month after month the raiders had approached and he’d beaten them back. But so far today, with such numbers, the only chance he had at success was with Knurre.
A raider came at him, his beast’s claws extended wide toward them. The raider’s mount snarled, it’s mouth opening wide as a spray of dry heat and fire shot toward them.
Knurre was a far quicker ride than his usual mount. The dragon’s larger size should’ve hindered it, but with grace and agility it slide sideways out of the shot and fired its own: a blast of icy mist that froze the raider and his mount. They rained down from the sky, one enemy after the other.
All of this was done without direction from Steinn. Such was his lack of control over his mount.
By the time a single raider remained, all they caught was his retreating back. Knurre raced after them, until Steinn pulled him back.
“Let the bastard, go!” He yanked on the ropes. Only to have Knurre pull back just as hard. The pain from Steinn’s shoulder wound bit at him, but he ignored it. “Stubborn, scaly—”
When the white dragon came to an abrupt stop, the air was forced from his lungs as he slammed hard into the leather saddle.
What came next was a slew of curses he never used unless he faced a foe in battle. He’d be damned if he’d let that creature get the best of him. He dug his heels into stirrups, letting his sword press jut into the lizard’s scaly hide. The poke made Knurre spit grunts.
“You can think again if I’ll reward you for this behavior!” Steinn spat.
The beast snorted ice from its nostrils.
Begrudgingly, he returned to the town Eik, one man and beast without much injury. Albeit most of Steinn’s injuries were to his pride. They landed with a hard awkward thump instead of the gentle ascend he expected. His usual mount, Vedor, peered at them from behind its holding, its dark green eyes peering at them with curiosity. Why hadn’t he taken that animal instead?
His younger brother, as well as the other soldiers in the clan gathered in to help restrain Knurre.
“Don’t bother,” he said with a grunt. By the time he slid off the saddle, Knurre jumped out of the way. With a dagger-filled hiss the dragon snapped at the others gathering to push them back.
Steinn whistled hard between his thumbs. The command rarely worked the past couple of days—even with the promise of salted fish for the creature.
The dragon stretched out his white wings and then picked up momentum as it gathered speed to ascend. No one stopped it as it took flight again and disappeared over the nearest hill.
Damn scaly, hairless, bat… Bah!
His brother approached him. “I don’t know why you bother with that thing.”
He often had the same question. “It is what it is. If we want to protect Eik I do what I must.” The last time the clan had been attacked, all their men, even with their fire dragons, had little strength against the opposing clan’s numbers. It was Knurre who kept the far stronger groups from sweeping in to take over.
“You’re hurt,” his brother remarked.
He reached for his shoulder and came away with blood. The stain on his fingers was as dark as sand under his feet. He let the blood drip on the rocks and said a blessing to the Goddess for protection. Sooner or later he’d have to summon Knurre again and he should be grateful he hadn’t killed himself or that damn dragon.
He brushed off his brother’s further attempts at concern and made his way to the chieftain’s great hall. The villagers kept working around him, only a few concerned about what took place with the raiders. His return meant everyone would be safe for a bit longer.
The Eik family great hall wasn’t much, but the home suited him. His brother often bugged him about repairing it so that it would be back to its former glory, but he didn’t want such things. Unlike the raiders, he had enough responsibilities keeping the village safe and protecting the crystal mines from those who’d seek to take what his forefathers had fought so hard to protect.
“Send someone after Knurre,” he said to his brother. “Don’t—”
“I know. Just follow him.”
He nodded. His brother had come to do a good job. Even though he only had one and seven years the boy worked hard and soon would be riding his own mount to protect the clan.
Dust from the outside had gathered along the doorway so he shut the door after himself. Eik hall hadn’t seen much for the past couple of months. After his father passed away, laughter ended. Maybe he should take a wife like his brother suggested. The dust under his feet and the cobwebs in the corners had grown far too much for Greta, their elderly maidservant to handle.
A bed of crystals sat in a pile with at the fireplace, glowing and radiating heat. Winter was coming to the desert in a few months and soon a chill would touch the corners of the home.
As he took in the rest of the great room, a place his father and uncles had built with his own hands, he had trouble pushing away memories from the past. This hall had been the place where he had run about playing with his brother. His mother had been long dead before that time from birthing his brother.
Úlfr, the village elder, approached him as he took discarded his weapons. “My wife has prepared a meal for your victory. I want you to come sit at my fire instead of brooding all alone here with an old woman.”
From the corner where she mended clothes, the elderly woman harrumphed. “The master eats my food just fine.”
“He has the cast iron stomach of a fire dragon, then,” Úlfr remarked.
Steinn couldn’t resist chuckling. For the past couple of days, the man had been pushing his eldest daughter on him.
“You need to keep our clan ways going,” he always chided.
Looks like he’d never escape before winter came without taking a woman. Naturally, his thoughts drifted to another, dark-haired woman. Someone he preferred not to think about.
A few hours later, he was sated and full of meade and fine food. Úlfr’s wife cooked a tasty meal. Their six children circled around them and filled the elder’s with laughter.
His eldest daughter, Finna, served him all night, but he couldn’t do no more than acknowledge her shy smile. She was pretty enough with wide hips and ample breasts.
Sleep tugged at him. He should’ve gone home before they’d cleared the table. The children had gone to bed and now Úlfr sat at the head of the table with his wife in his lap.
Steinn’s gaze wavered, but he caught sight of Úlfr’s hand sneaking under his wife’s skirts. The woman’s sharp inhale told him the man had found what he’d sought.
How long had it been since he’d taken a woman? A month or so. A few in the village were quite willing to warm his bed and were driven enough to be the chieftain’s wife.
And yet none of them were her.
A knock on the door and the warm breeze from outside stirred his dulled senses. Úlfr’s wife answered the door. A herald bounded in, his dark, hooded cape covering half of his face. Once he removed his gloves, Steinn caught sight of his pale, soft hands. The older man had likely not seen a hard day’s work in a house or a cave.
“I was told by the servant in great hall that the chieftain is here.”
“I am him.” His voice had returned to him.
A few doors from other rooms cracked open and curious young eyes peered at them.
“Brimir, the chieftain of Forsvollr, has called a warrior from each clan to village.”
Forsvollr was on the other side of Outlands. At least a day’s ride on a strong dragon. What was going on?
The herald continued. “A threat has come to our world from the heavens—”
“Why are we just now hearing about this?” He quickly stood.
The herald made a rude noise and looked over the home. “News travels slowly out here and the Outlands are filled with nothing but volcanic ash and pitiful crystal fields. Traders with valuable news must have no interest in such places.”
Even from where he stood, the herald smelled like a perfumed wench. Such rude remarks from someone who hadn’t bled in battle were foolish.
“The orders are clear,” the older man said with an air of authority. “As the chieftain you must choose a warrior or come yourself. You’ve been called to fight and defend our lands.”
Steinn held his expression in check. Now wasn’t the time for him to leave. Not with raiders pressing against his borders. “When do I need to report to Forsvollr?”
“You have two days.” The man’s smirk grew wider. “And one of those days has already passed.”
