Fallen Empire

  She could only hope that were true.

  In the quiet evening, they lay on a wool blanket on the grass staring at the bright stars that littered the sky like jewels.

  Their bellies were full with the best food they’d had all year, and a slight buzz filled Amalia’s head from drinking entirely too much mead. The taste of honey was still on her tongue as she closed her eyes with a sigh.

  She wished she could relive this moment forever. Still, Eris’ words kept invading her contended thoughts.

  What if Aros would betray her trust one day? Would she ever forgive him?

  “What’s with that face you’re making?” Aros asked, sitting up and peering down at her with an amused smirk. “That’s quite a frown. I’d love to know what was on your mind. You almost never frown.”

  She shook her head and tried to relax her expression. Now was not the time to think of the gods. When she was alone with Aros, that was all that mattered in her heart.

  There was something about the way he looked at her that made her heart thump louder than a drum and her breaths quicken. His eyes were so intense. She often found herself lost in them to the point where her cheeks would redden as she forced herself to look away.

  The nice thing was that he sometimes did the same.

  “I was just thinking,” she said. “You’re leaving me here all alone.” She swallowed. “I’m going to miss you.”

  He smiled and leaned over her. Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered himself so close to her face that the tips of their noses touched.

  Excitement rushed through her entire body as she got the one thing she had been dreaming of since she’d arrived in Berufell.

  A kiss.

  The pressing of his soft lips to hers was a surprise. A welcome one. They were warm, and he tasted of the same honey mead she had just drank. Every fiber of her body sang when he ran his hand up her waist and cupped the back of her head.

  The way his fingers laced in her hair and how his tongue entered her mouth in the most delicious way had her closing her eyes in absolute bliss.

  She was so happy that she could cry, and tears did sprout from the corners of her eyes. There was validation in that kiss. Validation that she wasn’t delusional in her thoughts that there might be something there between them.

  When his kiss became greedy as he devoured her mouth in the most delicious fashion, she succumbed and let out a tiny moan.

  “Bloody hell,” Helgi said, ruining the most tender moment Amalia had ever experienced. He was drunk, his long blond hair haphazard and hanging in his face as he stumbled upon them carrying a full mug. “Isn’t this interesting?”

  “Piss off,” Aros said, his cheeks red—not with embarrassment, but with anger.

  Helgi chuckled and shook his head, looking Amalia up and down.

  “I knew you fancied the human girl. Why else would you bring in such a raggedy looking stray? What are you going to do, marry the human and have little deformed doggies?”

  His annoying laugh filled the forest, and Amalia feared someone else would hear, and come to further embarrass them.

  Aros stood and pushed his brother, spilling mead onto the both of them. “I told you to leave.”

  Helgi wasn’t phased by his brother’s anger. He continued to chuckle. “Wait until mother hears of this. Better yet, I think father will be quite interested in hearing about this little intimate moment.”

  Aros growled and tackled his brother.

  Amalia covered a scream as before her eyes, they both shifted into their Wolf form and began fighting.

  “Dear gods,” she uttered as they stood, facing one another. They were entirely too big to be natural. Wolves were terrifying creatures, but barely taller than a child.

  Aros and Helgi were at least six feet tall on all fours.

  Her eyes widened as she watched the vicious creatures bite and claw one another with the sharpest fangs she’d ever seen.

  They were both the same color, with thick honey-colored fur and bright blue eyes. She couldn’t tell them apart, and instead of trying, she scrambled away, unable to bear seeing blood shed. And, that’s what happened.

  One slashed the other across the face and a loud roar followed.

  Mortified, Amalia stood and ran into the forest. Fear gripped her as she imagined what Reidar and Runa would do once they heard that their son had kissed a human. There was no cross-breeding in their culture. Not for centuries. Tears fell from her cheeks as she ran, Aros’ voice shouting after her from behind. This might be the end of her new life.

  Where would she go now?

  19

  Her legs burned by the time she finally stopped running. The sounds of Aros calling for her had long since faded. Perhaps he’d stopped and returned to the village.

  She was a fast runner—but as she soon found out—he was faster.

  He tackled her to the ground and she skidded across the hard-packed dirt, scrapping her cheek across the ground.

  She looked over her shoulder and screamed at seeing him in his Wolf form and before she could blink, he shifted back into a human. He flipped her over. Holding her, he breathed into her neck as his body rested on top of hers.

  Frozen beneath him, she tried to calm herself and catch her breath. He seemed to be doing the same, and they both remained silent as they did so.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.

  She shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s who you are. Sometimes I forget. I’ve just never actually seen any of you shift.”

  He lifted himself from on top of her and she was almost disappointed. Despite frightening her with his animalistic form, it also stirred warmth in her belly to have his hard body pressed to hers like that.

  She sat up and ran her hands through her hair while pulling her cloak closer against the cold.

  “You must have hurt him,” she said, reaching out to touch his unmarred face.

  He nodded, silently.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Lifting a brow, he shot a confused look at her. “For what? It wasn’t your fault. Helgi is a spiteful sod. We’ve fought plenty of times as boys and as men. He’ll heal and get over it.”

  “Do you think he will tell on us?”

  Aros shrugged. “I don’t really care anymore. Let them know.”

  She licked her lips. “This is all very scary to me. Are you sure?”

  “Of course. I brought you into the village. I have more of a claim over you than anyone else. Helgi can find someone else.”

  She gasped. “What?”

  Aros’ cheeks reddened and he sighed. “He wanted you for himself. He speaks like he hates the idea of a human and a Wolf, but he’s a hypocrite. He wanted you from the day I first brought you home.”

  “Goodness,” she said, confused by it all. “I had no idea.”

  “You shouldn’t be surprised. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I’ve dreamed about you for years. There has to be a reason for that.”

  A smile crept onto her lips. She sat up on her knees and took his hands into hers. This was probably the most bold thing she would ever do, but her heart led the way.

  She looked into his eyes. “Promise me then,” she said.

  He lifted a brow. “Anything.”

  “When you go to the citadel, you won’t forget me. Promise you’ll come back and we can be together.”

  His smile matched hers and she swooned when he leaned in to kiss her full on the mouth once again.

  Aros whispered into her ear. “You have my word.”

  20

  Kylan was prepared to lead his first raid, but as he stood in the empty meadow, he enjoyed his solitude. It would be the last time he would be alone for months, possibly longer.

  Blinding light zapped up and down his body like fairies gone mad, and Kylan enjoyed every second of it. He basked in its glory as the sun shone on him and warmed his cheeks.

  “I see you’ve learned to harness the blessing I’ve giv
en you,” a familiar voice said.

  A knowing smile came to his lips as he turned to see Enit standing there. He shook his head. There was a beautiful goddess standing there and it was just another day. How did he become so lucky?

  She wore a silver dress that shimmered in the sunlight, and her hair was longer than when he’d last seen her. Dark and wavy, it fell over her shoulders as she watched him with a pensive grin.

  He still couldn’t believe that she had presented herself to him years ago. The fact that she’d given him this new power vexed him, but he wasn’t complaining.

  “What am I supposed to do with all of this power?”

  She folded her arms across her chest and shrugged. “That is for you to decide. I can only point you in the right direction and hope you make the right choice.”

  “But, why did you choose me?”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “You were born for this.”

  He didn’t know what that meant. He was born to do a great many things it seemed.

  “We leave for the Feral Lands soon,” he said, looking around to make sure no one was spying or eavesdropping. He could see in either direction for miles around. He’d flown there at dawn so that no one would follow.

  Still, he could never be too sure. Too much was on the line, especially after the attack by the Brotherhood on his village.

  Those monks had bought themselves more than a fight they had no chance of winning. They’d bought themselves a clan of formidable dragons.

  A new enemy.

  “I know,” she said. “You will face a great deity. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Kylan straightened his shoulders. Leading his first raid would not only bring great honor, but power to his clan. “You said it yourself. I was born for this.”

  The mission was simple: kill the cursed deities and creatures that stood in their way, and as Kylan and the clan prepared, he had one thing on his mind.

  Returning to Kjos.

  After centuries of exile and hiding their true origin, it was time to stop. It was time to reclaim their home.

  “Kylan, my boy,” Davyn said, summoning him to join him at the head of the long table that stretched from one end to the other of the long hall.

  There would be one final feast before their raid began.

  Kylan sat beside his father in a wooden chair with a bear skin lining the back, its head hanging over the edge. He drank his ale and looked to him.

  “What is it, father?”

  Davyn ate from a turkey leg dipped in thick sauce and seemed to take forever to chew. Kylan wasn’t particularly patient, but he still had enough ale in his mug to keep him from being too annoyed by his father’s slow nature.

  He never hurried. He was always calm, calculating, and for the most part, right about everything.

  It made sense that he was the leader of the clan. Kylan wondered if he was even worthy to one day replace him.

  “Do you think you’re truly ready to lead the clan in the upcoming raids?”

  Kylan sat up straight. “Of course, I am. I’m the biggest dragon in the clan, and the most powerful.”

  Davyn looked to him with deep-set green eyes. “Aye, son. But, what about what’s inside here?” Davyn asked, tapping Kylan’s head. “And, here?” He tapped his heart.

  Kylan made a face. “What about it? We’re going to kill monsters, not reason with them.”

  Davyn nodded and sat back in his chair. “This is true. But it will take more than sheer strength and force of will to raid the cursed deities. You’ve never seen a true one before. You’ve never solo’d one with just your sword and the flame from your lungs.”

  The tales of his father taking down Ragasam in his younger days had gone down in the history scrolls. There had been songs sang about it, and the keepers of their historical accounts had made sure they’d memorized every detail. Kylan could solo a monster. He was certain of it.

  “I’m getting old. You’ll be leading the Wregardians before you know it. But, I need to know you understand what kind of responsibility is upon you.”

  “I won’t let you down, Father,” Kylan said. “I will march our people through the black gates of Erani with our banners held high.”

  “Aye, boy. You’d better not. Because, if you do, I’ll come back from the Land of the Dead and haunt you until your dying day.”

  A chuckle came from Kylan, but he abruptly stopped when he realized that his father wasn’t joking. He cleared his throat, trying to act serious, and nodded.

  “You can count on me,” he said, and his eyes drifted to a pretty maiden pouring more ale to all of the assembled men and women. He couldn’t help that his mind had turned to imagining her without that apron and dress. How she might look in his bed.

  “Kylan,” Davyn said, breaking Kylan from his thoughts which were becoming more and more blurred as the ale set in. “We’re counting on you to get us back to Kjos. It’s in your blood to do so.”

  Kylan downed the rest of his mug. He wiped his mouth and nodded. “It shall be done.”

  21

  The ring was set in the center of the training grounds. It was where Amalia had received her first black eye and broken ribs two years ago. Where she learned to wield a shield and sword like the warrior maidens the Wolves were so famous for training.

  In Fjorn, everyone learned to fight. Men. Women. Children. There were no exceptions. When the call from the king came, everyone of age must be ready to fight.

  To raid.

  And so, while Amalia spent her days in the kitchen or fields with Runa, her nights were spent training with Master Uffe and her sparring partner, Latica.

  Two years of training, and she still sometimes found herself on her knees, yielding to the giant with dirt and blood on her face.

  Latica helped her to her feet and gave her a pat on the back. “Well done,” she said, and gave a slight bow of respect.

  “Thank you,” she said, a bit surprised by her kind words. It was as if she hadn’t just kicked Amalia square in the chest with the full force of her booted foot.

  The last ray of sun melted into the emerging darkness of nightfall as Amalia watched her sparring partner leave. She picked up her flask of water and drank deeply, letting the cool liquid soothe her burning throat and lungs. It was still cold, despite the emerging spring. The moon began to peek through the clouds and shed light on Berufell.

  Lanterns had been hung and were now being lit to celebrate Chenehar, the first spring festival of the year.

  She sighed and looked over to see Aros watching her. Her face lit up and she headed toward him. He was handsome as ever in his traveler’s clothing of a long, belted tunic and blue cloak draped over his shoulders.

  She pulled her long hair from its ponytail and let air cool her sweaty scalp as she ran to the gate where he waited.

  “Aros, you’re back!” Her heart soared. She’d missed him everyday since he left for his studies in the captital city six months prior. Life in Berufell was a bore without him. Cook, clean, train. That was her new life. But, seeing him brought such joy that she couldn’t contain her excitement.

  He nodded. “Of course, I’ve returned. Today’s an important day.”

  “Oh yes,” she said. She’d almost forgot that Chenehar was more than just a spring festival. It meant so much more for young men. She wiped her mouth and cringed at seeing blood on the back of her hand. She sighed. It could be worse. She could be dead back in Skal. “You are of age to join the raids.”

  “Aye,” Aros said. “And, look at you. You're not terrible at this whole warrior training.”

  She laughed. “Thank you, I suppose. I have been training for some time now.”

  He grinned and helped her climb over the short, wooden fence. “No, really. You’re getting quite good.”

  She pulled a twig out of his hair. He must have come straight to see her once he arrived. Such a thought made her smile even bigger.

  “Maybe one day I’ll leave the ring without a black eye o
r a bruised rib,” she said, licking her lips and tasting the saltiness of her own blood.

  “I don’t doubt that will happen. Uffe is making you into a real sword maiden. And, I can see it in his eyes that he’s proud of you.”

  Amalia glanced over her shoulder at her trainer. He frowned back at her and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Be back at first light,” he said.

  She nodded. “He doesn’t look very proud to me,” she murmured. “He makes me train late most nights. Even when the other students get to go home.”

  “Aye. He doesn’t want to make the other girls jealous. But, if he is spending extra time with you, you must be special.”

  He was right. Uffe seemed to take a particular interest in her. She wasn’t quite sure why, but sometimes she’d catch him marveling at her before morphing his expression into a distasteful scowl and making her train even harder.

  “Come with me,” he said, taking her hand. “We have much to discuss.”

  She followed him away from the training grounds and toward the tavern.

  “Fancy a mug of mead?”

  He scratched his chin and nodded. “Aye. It has been a long journey home, and I’ve missed you.”

  Her voice softened as he led her to a table toward the back, where a warm fire burned in the hearth. “I’ve missed you as well. What did you learn about my birthmark?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “More than I expected.”

  She was eager to hear his findings but restrained herself from spewing every question that raced through her head.

  Everyone seemed to file into the taverns, filling their mugs and indulging before the many activities of the evening began. It was one of the few times of year when everyone in the village would get together, share a meal, and listen to word from the Fenrir king about which territory they would raid next.

  This would be the first year Aros would join the raids, and Amalia worried he might not come back the same person.