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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781519750587 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | CreateSpace Publishing |
| Publication date: | 12/07/2015 |
| Pages: | 426 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.95(d) |
Read an Excerpt
Prologue
Late Spring, 999
The Isle of Tiree, Scottish Hebrides
Standing at the edge of her world, the shoreline of the Isle of Tiree, Thorgunna glanced at the Contract of Marriage she clutched, as the chill of her vision subsided.
"All I had to do was bear sons. Nothing more. Nothing less. But now, everything is going to change. I loathe change."
Her body and soul vibrating in the wake of the powerful vision, Thorgunna drew a deep breath, exhaling forcefully. The brilliant surge of energy past, she again looked at the contract, sighing, shaking her head in disbelief.
"The man I shall love approaches. But, so does my new husband. Now what am I going to do?"
Suddenly her world grew even more complicated than it had ever been.
She scanned the horizon for the sails of the ship bringing her new husband to Tiree. The husband she had wed by contract, but had not yet met. The man who was her husband, but not her love.
"Nor shall love ever bloom between Finn and I. I know that now. How could I expect more from a marriage such as ours?" Thorgunna shivered. "My island has always been my one true love. Nothing else has mattered--until now. He will change everything. He has changed everything. Damn my sight!"
Thorgunna, filled with the residual deep, heady effervescence characteristic of her second sight, left the shore. To await his arrival.
Chapter One
Eight weeks later
Early Summer, 999
Thorgunna awoke just before dawn, drenched in sweat, her bed linens wrapped around her like a burial shroud. Her heart racing frantically, she gasped, trying to catch her breath--trying to calm herself. "It was justthe dream. Just the dream." She exhaled, forcing her body to accept calmness in its dream-induced state of agitation. "It becomes more real every day. Will there come a time when I shan't be able to distinguish my waking world from my nightmare? I am weary of these torments of sleep and confusion. I wish the gods would leave me alone. I wish that hellish, beastly demi-god, Loki, would leave me alone. I don't know how much more of this I can take."
Peeling her bed sheets from her damp skin, Thorgunna emerged from her bedbox like a butterfly from its chrysalis.
"I must discover the winning strategy in this battle played out each night upon the field of my mind. The battle for Tiree. The battle for my soul."
She stretched, reaching for a cup of water on her bedside table. "Fifty-six nights I've waged a battle beyond the veil of darkness. Fifty-seven days have I awakened unable to mourn the death of my husband, having never known him. I have no feeling regarding the death of Finn MacLean, save those of regret at the termination of the benefits awarded me in the Condicio Matrimonium.
"Who killed you Finn? Who sent your ship to the bottom of the Hebridean sea? Who denied me your wedding gift of skilled Scottish guards to protect my island? If not for those guards, I would have never married you in the first place!"
Thorgunna set the cup down with a such force it cracked. "Damn. No husband. No guard. And now, no cup."
Dressing carefully, pinning her black hair back in a utilitarian fashion, Thorgunna emerged from her house not as a woman seeking release from the clutches of a godling-sent nightmarish Hell, or as the youthful innocent she truly was. Thorgunna Vagnsdottir, Lady Jarl, mistress of the Isle of Tiree had no time to dwell upon fears born of nightmares.
No time to find an end to her chronic fatigue. No time to devote to discovering the means to end her night terrors.
A ship, broken and torn by a summer storm of vast magnitude had sailed into the harbor during the night. Of course, Tiree had many such visitors during the season of summer storms. And they all pulled into Gott Bay as if the horseshoe-shaped white sand cove was littered with lodestones. Custom dictated she offer hospitality to the captain and crew of the storm-ravished ship, no matter how tired she was.
Thorgunna stopped as a memory surfaced. A fleeting, taunting memory from the dream. "Is this the ship bearing the explorer? The man from my vision who my nightmarish foe uses as a tool to tease and frighten me?"
She recalled the words the hungry beast of her dreams force-fed her every night. Painful, yet promising words spoken through lips both honeyed and scarred. Joyful, yet threatening, words. Words accompanied by the scent of salt and leather, leaving the air thick with anticipation.
'Soon Thorgunna, soon enough, a man shall come ashore. An explorer. He shall explore you, I dare say.'
Thorgunna shook her head, once again convincing herself the words of her tormentor were lies. "It is the God of Lies who haunts me and therefore, everything he says, every night, is a lie. If one word is true, then all parts of the condicio malefactororis diabolus between Loki and I are true. That, I must never allow. The woman I become in my dreams must have no sway or influence over the woman I am while awake. My nocturnal contract with the god of darkness must never bleed through into the daylight of reality. Never. No matter who has arrived upon my island in the dead of night."
With the sun rising pink and orange across the vastness of the heavens, Thorgunna rode to Gott, the natural harbor in which the torn ship had anchored. The circle of stone and thatch beach shelters came into view. Beyond that, a tattered square-sailed longship lay at anchor in Gott Bay.
Thorgunna urged her horse on, trying to push thoughts of fear and apprehension aside.
She pulled the reins and vaulted off her pony just shy of the rock enclosure surrounding the largest of the cottages.
Thorgunna was not the only islander to greet the dawn, and the weary, storm-ravished men from off the sea--though she was their leader. Never leaving her completely alone, yet always just out of her line of sight, was Thorok, a man hand-chosen by her own father to be her 'protector.'
A handsome stranger was sitting calmly upon a driftwood bench outside the cottage. He displayed nobility in even the simple act of sitting. Thorgunna knew he was the captain of the ship anchored in the bay.
She crossed the cattle grid built into the rock wall. Within the enclosure, it was sheer will alone that kept her from turning and running far, far away. Thorgunna, exuding her own nobility while fighting back a raging tide of panic, recognized the stranger all-too-well. This man, this tall, golden man, is my true love. Best to put that right out of my head. There can be no true love for me. My island must come first. It was the man revealed to her by the sight. It was the man used as a tool by her tormentor to coerce and trick her into the demon-blessed contract.
Flanked by a handful of islanders already offering assistance to the wayfarers, Thorgunna extended her right hand for a traditional clasping of wrists with the storm-ravished sea captain. Is this truly the man whose approach I sensed? The man whose scent and laugh have haunted my thoughts even more so than the nightmarish beast that came upon me when news of Finn's death reached Tiree?
Her eyes downcast, she could not look into the man's eyes. The truth was in his eyes. The truth revealed to her by the sight so many weeks ago, and molded into a lovely cage by the beast in her nightmares.
The man rose to greet her. Tall, with skin as tan as the leather he wore, and long, thick blonde hair, he outshone the rising sun.
She watched with almost hypnotic fascination as their hands met and slowly joined, palm meeting palm for a warm, affecting moment before encircling and grasping each other's wrist. As her fingers intertwined around his strong arm, she at last lifted her eyes to meet his.
He smiled kindly, as if he were welcoming her--not she extending 'welcome' to him.
Feigning a cough, Thorgunna quickly turned her head to hide the blush caused by the light of the man's smile, an infectious smile of mouth and eyes and demeanor more brilliant in its glow than the light of the elusive Hebridean sun.
He was like a mist, surrounding her, filling her. He invaded her with his presence in a way she had not expected nor even imagined. She breathed him in--every part of him. Like strong herbal vapors, he excited her--healed her.
Instinctively, her guard went up. The conditioning and fear instilled in her by repetitive nightmares took hold. Worse, the teachings of her father, who had many enemies, invaded her heart, pushing out thoughts of love and satisfaction.
"When you are at rest is when your enemies will take what is yours," her father had intoned, over and over as he trained her to lead the islanders one day.
My enemies, Thorgunna thought. One took Finn from me. Another wants to control my island. The most fearsome desires no less than my soul.
She suppressed a shudder as the sea captain's grip around her wrist tightened and his index finger delicately and quite intentionally, caressed her forearm while his strong, calloused hand encircled her wrist. For the sake of this man's life. For Tiree. I must be strong.
Gathering her wits, Thorgunna gazed into the captain's piercing blue eyes. So clear, so absolutely clear a blue she had never seen before. Embarrassingly blue. Like a mirror. A mirror reflecting her own dusky complexion, made only darker by contrast with his fairness.
Breathing in deeply, she recognized his scent. Salt and leather. I do know this man.
Clasping Thorgunna's wrist firmly, the captain spoke, "The storm took its toll upon us as if we were a child's toy afloat in a horse trough, Lady. These shelters saved our lives."
Still clasping wrists, still drowning in his eyes, his smile, his enticing male scent, Thorgunna forced a weak smile, trying to recall what had been said to her only a moment before to make an appropriate reply. "This island has seen many visitors washed ashore after a storm. We keep these shelters as a monument to our hospitality. Welcome to Tiree. I am Thorgunna. I am the Jarl of this fair island."
Not releasing her wrist, but pulling her slightly closer, the shipwrecked man lifted Thorgunna's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it so gently, but with such unfulfilled hunger, that she had to pull away.
The sun had risen, casting a pale light through the heavy gray clouds decorating the sky above Tiree. His back to the sun, standing dead-center in a streak of near-white light trailing a warm kiss across the sand, the wayfarer's head seemed crowned by a golden halo. A golden man bathed in the glow of a golden streak of sunlight.
Obviously fatigued, he leaned momentarily against the portal leading into the shelter.
"I am Leif, son of Eirik Rautha, of Greenland. Thank you, again, Madam Jarl. Your hospitality is regal. Without chancing upon this island, we would have surely died."
Thorgunna smiled. "I can plainly see that your ship hails from Greenland by the square and color of her sail--or at least what's left of it. But sir, your accent is not Greenlandic. You are an Icelander, no?"
Leif laughed. "You recognize Iceland in my speech? My father moved us from Breithafjordur when I was a child."
Breithafjordur, Thorgunna repeated to herself, committing the name to memory. "Icelanders are a proud lot. It reflects in your voice. In your manner of speaking. Most men in realms under Norway's control no longer refer to themselves as the 'son of' their father. Being so far from the throne, I'm sure Greenland learns of changes in court etiquette much later than we do. You truly speak as though you are still a part of Iceland."
"Iceland runs in my veins. But Greenland is my home now. And she is, indeed, a long trek from Norway--but that is precisely where we were headed when a great squall fell upon us, drowning my ship, nearly killing us all."
"Hiring yourselves out as mercenaries?"
Leif laughed again. "Nothing so grand as that. We're not even on a true iviking. I'm on a mission to woo the King of Norway into a trade agreement with Greenland. My father wishes his foundling country to be recognized and made a part of Olaf's realm."
"Is your father a pagan?" Thorgunna asked, pointing at the bronze Thor's Hammer pinned to Leif's tunic.
"A pagan? No. Greenland has no pagans. We are Odinists."
"Our King considers all men who do not share his faith in the White Christ, pagans. Does your father not know that Olaf of Norway is a Christian? A rather devout and zealous Christian, I might add."
"Lady, as you said, Greenland is quite far from the news of Norway. My father, the Jarl of Bratahild, most certainly does not know his King has converted to the new faith. No priest has ever set foot upon our soil, nor shall if Eirik has his way. In Iceland, there were a few Irish monks milling about the small, secluded islands off the coast, but they feared us, and we left them alone--for the most part."
It was her move, and she knew it. Either I invite this lost captain to stay in the relative luxury of my home, or I ignore tradition and leave him here with his men. How close do I want him when I must shun his affections to save his life?
Thorgunna made her decision after one more glance into the man's eyes. An Iceland-born Greenlandic-bred giant, he was far from safe. But he was ever so more a beautiful beast than that which haunted her anyway. "Sir, can you ride to my compound? I'd like to continue our discussion, while welcoming you properly to my island. Your men are welcome to stay in the shelter." Turning to Thorok, standing just beyond the enclosure, Thorgunna continued. "Bring the captain a horse, Thorok. We shall ride to Gott Hill."
Thorok nodded his usual silent reply, leading his own horse around the shelter to Thorgunna.
"My men are in better shape than my ship, Lady. None are badly injured. All are rested and comfortable thanks to the provisions in the shelter. I am honored, as are they, to be a guest upon your island." Leif stretched. "My legs are a bit weak as we were long at sea, but I believe I can still ride. Is not the motion of a pony under you similar to the rocking of the ocean under your ship? Lead away, madam." Leif nodded toward a large, red-bearded man, "Take care of them, Siggi. I'll be back."
The man raised an eyebrow suspiciously, yet replied calmly, "Yes, sir."
Leif followed Thorgunna, watching her as she moved lightly across the white sand shore of her island, listening to the provocative sound of her keys jingling at her hip like the call of a siren.
By the gods, she is a handsome woman, he thought, admiring Thorgunna's form. She is a buxom, comely woman. Her skin is so deliciously dark. I've never seen such a handsome woman. I envy her husband. He must enjoy bedding her, indeed.
"Lady, may I inquire about the Lord of the Isle?" he asked, his mind lingering on thoughts of Thorgunna, and her bed.
"My brother went off to follow the priests of the White Christ several years ago. My husband, Finn MacLean of Oban, died at sea. We had no children. My father and mother are dead as well. I am the chief property holder on Tiree. I am her Jarl."
Leif's interest piqued. She is a widow. A young, beautiful widow. "Tiree. My Gaelic is poor, but does that not translate to 'breadbasket'?" he asked.
"Yes, it does, rather. Tiree is the most fertile of all the Inner Hebrides. We produce fantastic amounts of grain and grain products. You speak a bit of Gaelic?"
"My first mate was born in Ireland. He came to Iceland when I was a lad, and moved to Greenland with us. He taught me."
"You must have made a fine pupil," Thorgunna quipped.
"In all subjects," Leif replied slyly. "Greenland's long winters provide ample time for educating a young man."
They rode across the long, crescent-shaped beach, through the tall grasses and pasture, to a well-maintained enclave atop Gott Hill.
"My home," Thorgunna called.
Leif nodded his head, surveying the structure of the houses and obvious defensive ring pattern of the dwellings spiraling down the gentle slope of the hill.
Truly, Thorgunna's house atop the hill was better than most he had seen in Iceland or Greenland. Longer than it was wide and built of stone, it boasted shuttered windows and a bright red door with heavy iron hinges. The net covered thatch roof was cleverly held in place by the tying of fist-sized stones to the net's outer ring, making the structure sound against the ever-present wind off the sea. It was a lovely house.
As they walked the horses to the stable, Leif, always exploring, even if only with his eyes, noted the enclave was more than just a defensible fortress ringed by stone. It was quite obviously the hub of the island community.
The Jarl's house is the sun. It is the bright center of the world to these simple folk. I see a pattern here. The smithy, the dairy, the smokehouse and the stack yard radiate away like rays of the sun from her house.
A groom ran to Thorgunna and Leif, taking the horses.
Thorgunna turned to Leif, "My house is yours. Your first mate is welcome to visit here, however, I would prefer he sleep with your men to keep them out of trouble. I may have items you need for repair on hand, and you're welcome to them, as you apparently have nothing to trade."
"I have some silver. My purse was not washed overboard by the storm," Leif replied quietly.
"What I really need are extra hands in the fields, the brewery and at the nets. Can you spare a few men, perhaps in rotation--so that the repairs on your vessel will not suffer?" Thorgunna asked.
"A good idea, that. I'll talk to Sigurdur and see if he can work it out with the men."
Inside, the house was arranged in typical Norse fashion, save it was alive with fresh-cut flowers and delicate, vibrant embroidered wall hangings and tapestries.
Leif paused inside the door, breathing in the fragrance of the place. Sweet blossoms perfumed in concert with the stunning spectrum of wall hangings and intricate weavings. What is more delicious? The sweet flowers or the bare nape of her neck? Which shall I pluck first?
"Yours?" Leif asked, admiring the work. Admiring Thorgunna.
Thorgunna nodded proudly.
Leif reached up, touching the largest of the tapestries, trailing his fingers across bold reddish words woven against a solid earth-tone background, trimmed in vibrant shades of gold, yellow, orange, blue and green. He carefully sounded-out and pronounced the woven message.
"This banner commemorates the Battle of the Sheaves. Sguab choirce gu crios ann an crios Lachlannaich." He then translated the Gaelic into Norse, "Stungull til thess ban i Vikingur magi. A sheaf to its band in a Norseman's stomach."
"And don't you forget it," Thorgunna responded proudly.
"Aye, Lady. I'll watch myself lest you run me clean through with the poke of a sharp vegetable," Leif replied.
Thorgunna turned a sharp eye to Leif. "A true warrior will battle with whatever weapon is at hand. We had no choice but to defend ourselves with the very stalks of corn we were trying to protect. We were victorious."
"No offense intended, Lady. Perhaps you shall regale my crew with the saga of the Battle of the Sheaves whilst we are in repair," Leif offered.
"Perhaps."
Leif studied the great room of Thorgunna's house. It was warm. Without draft.
"A hearth for heating and pit-fire for cooking. Useful that. The way you utilize one chimney to outlet the smoke from both sources is ingenious. I salute your builder," Leif commented.
"I designed. My men built." Thorgunna walked to the hearth. "My bed was always too cold when I was a girl. I like to feel warm, hence two fires and vents between rooms to allow passage of heat. Your bed is there. It is warm, I promise." Thorgunna motioned to one of the rooms left of the entrance. "My private chamber lies beyond that weaving."
She nodded to the opposite end of the great room. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but while our new pit and shelter is being constructed, we must all use a bucket as a privy. Oh, and although I expect your men will be sniffing about my women soon enough, I ask that you please do not take any of my house servants to your bed. It causes problems later. I find my servants lose interest in their work when dreams of foreigners fill their hearts and minds by day and bodies by night. Since I pay them a good wage, I expect good work from them," Thorgunna said, stoking the fire. She turned her head to face Leif, raising an eyebrow; waiting for his response.
Leif, not shocked, but definitely intrigued by her frankness, replied, "I shall watch myself, Lady."
Thorgunna smiled. "After you are rested we shall talk more."
Realizing he had just been dismissed, Leif excused himself, entering his chamber. It contained the typical Norse bedbox filled with clean straw and a wooden frame covered with cowhide, fine linen sheets and a large woolen blanket. Again, the room had fresh flowers and wall hangings. And, the room was amazingly warm. "Vents. What a marvelous idea," he mumbled, raising his hands to feel the warm air wafting in from the main room even with his room's heavy privacy curtain dropped into place.
Leif sat upon the bedbox.
"Oh, gods," he sighed, suddenly very, very tired. Though it was still early morning, and he wished to explore Tiree--and its Lady--more thoroughly, he simply could not move. His body collapsed and sagged as the hyper-vigilant state it had been in since the storm melted away to the pull of persistent, unquelled exhaustion. "I pray I am amongst friends," he whispered to himself before literally crashing into the linens, snoring loudly.
Lief awoke several hours later, springing from the bed, his heart racing. Confused by the heavy sleep of the near dead, several moments passed before Leif regained composure.
I am intact. Sword, boots, coin. I am also quite alive.
He looked about the room with more rested eyes. Through the leaves of the shutters, he could see a brilliant sunset. "I slept through the day," Leif said taking a deep breath. His senses became engulfed in the fragrances of the place. Lupines, Baldur's Brow, Buttercups, and aromatic herbs mixed into the bouquets gave the air a stimulating, yet tranquil aura.
Leif rose, loosening the thongs of his breeches to relieve himself into the conspicuously placed privy. A giggle from behind startled him.
"Failte," a delicate female voice called, using a traditional Gaelic phrase for 'welcome.' "I am Brigit, Lady Thorgunna's cook and housekeeper. I have barley porridge hot and ready to eat for you."
"Thank you Brigit. Barley porridge sounds very good. You are not of the Isle, are you?" Leif said, unashamedly lacing his breeches in front of Brigit while taking note of her strong accent and wild beauty. She wore a gathered waist-shirt and cinch, pushing up and exposing her ample bosom. Her skirt had a long slit on one side to allow freedom of movement.
"No, sir. I am from Eire. What you might call a Westman," Brigit replied.
Leif moved closer to Brigit, his blue eyes dancing playfully as he spoke. "I know Westmen. Never would I call you a Westman. Alas, dear lady, I am forbidden to dally with the Jarl's servants. Too bad that. I've always enjoyed the company of Westmen."
"You, sir, are treading upon unsafe ground. Don't you make me angry now."
"Aye. I wouldn't want to raise your hot Irish temper," Leif agreed. "Nor do I wish to countermand the orders of the Lady Jarl."
"There's a wise man. Now, to your porridge, shall we?"
Smiling, Leif exited his room, slipping past Brigit, straining to ignore the sensation of her soft bosom brushing against his chest in passing.
"Well, excuse me, sir," Brigit giggled, stepping into Leif's chamber as he exited.
"No worries, Brigit. Thorgunna just needs to make larger doorways," Leif replied.
A piping hot bowl of porridge smothered with butter and cream awaited Leif in the main room, carefully plated out atop the small table by the hearth fire.
A moment later Thorgunna emerged from her chamber serving herself from the pot over the fire pit in the center of the room. She joined Leif at the table.
"Thank you for letting me sleep. I took watch after we came ashore, and gods, I was tired," Leif commented, sliding his bench a bit closer to the table.
"Aye. We could hear the lot of them snoring last night. That's how we knew a ship had pulled to harbor. But none were so loud as you alone in your chamber."
"I apologize for my ... for the snoring."
"Don't concern yourself, Greenlander. My father could out-wind a storm."
Leif smiled, changing the subject, "Brigit is a Westman slave?"
"Brigit is not a slave."
"She says she is your cook," Leif replied.
"Aye, that she is. I traded for her, as she was too young to be made off with by Norsemen in my eyes. On Tiree there are no slaves. She was free to leave. However, she chose to stay, and to be my cook."
"What was her value?"
"Twelve kegs of beer," Thorgunna replied.
Leif laughed. "There must be a story there."
"Indeed."
"Will you share it?"
"I am not a Skald. My stories are rather dull."
"I enjoy your accent. Please," Leif said, flashing a broad smile.
"I have no accent. You sir, have the accent."
"Ah, but when you travel to Iceland it will be you who has the accent," Leif laughed.
"When shall I travel to Iceland? Are you a prophet as well as an emissary?"
"Do you not wish to visit Iceland?" Leif asked slyly.
"I'd go for the hot water alone," Thorgunna replied. "As I said, I like to be warm."
"Hot water in abundance, I dare say. Iceland is one big, steaming pot of hot water. I miss that, true enough. Now, about the Irishwoman."
"Very well. If my accent pleases you so, then I shall tell you how Brigit came to be my cook. It is not a grand saga by any means, mind you, nor will it be as refreshing as a bath in one of Iceland's geyser-fed pools," Thorgunna conceded.
"Do tell," Leif encouraged.
Through the unshuttered western window a brilliant stream of light from the setting sun wafted in, striking Leif's flaxen hair.
How can I deny him anything? Thorgunna thought, again losing herself to the warmth of Leif's presence.
"The moments after sunset are the best time to tell tales. Lady, do share the tale," Leif said.
"Brigit came to Tiree as chattel of a Rus named Oskar Bloodstaff. Bloodstaff came to buy grain. A simple trade, that. I have no idea why he chose to drag a woman in chains into my circle. My first thought was that he wanted to trade that diminutive, downtrodden girl for my barley and corn. But, it was apparent from the start of negotiations that the woman was his plaything. Brigit was chained at his feet, and as we discussed the price of my grain he was continually distracted by his desire to fondle her breasts. Bloodstaff is a vile, dirty man. I assumed he was trying to distract me from making a sound contract with him for my grain. I chose to ignore his behavior, and his slave, and stick to business. Then, for a fleeting moment, my eyes met hers. In her eyes I saw a desperate cry for 'help.'
"Who's your friend, Oskar?' I asked.
"Payment for services rendered,' he replied.
I told him that 'payment for services rendered' was an odd name for an woman. I then asked Oskar what grand task he had completed to earn payment in the form of one small Irishwoman. He said he had ended a feud.
I nearly fell off my stone laughing. It was quite unbelievable to me that Oskar Bloodstaff settled a dispute between Irish landowners. Of course, he claimed it was true. I then asked Brigit what the truth of the matter was. Once he allowed her to speak to me, I learned he had slaughtered her entire clan to make their lands available for confiscation by the local magistrate. He meant to sell Brigit into a brothel in Constantinople, along with my grain!"
Mesmerized by Thorgunna's voice, but incensed by the rude behavior of a fellow Norseman, Leif interjected, using the most vulgar profanity one man could hurl at another. "Argr. Oskar is Argr--less than a man."
Ignoring Leif's curse, but privately agreeing, Thorgunna continued, "Oskar had bite marks on his arm. Large, gaping things. Brigit had bitten him! I could tell she was just aching to bite him again, too. To make this long story short, I traded something much more valuable than grain to Oskar for Brigit."
"Beer?" Leif asked.
"Yes, beer. I knew it was a good brew. I had no idea how good it was until the aftermath of my trading twelve barrels for Brigit came to pass. That's when Norway became interested in Tiree. Oskar presented one barrel to Olaf, himself, and that's where the trouble started. I now wage a battle to protect the gold. The Tireean Gold. My beer--the grain that produces it, the land that grows the grain and the good people who till the soil. I'm glad to have Brigit with me, for she is a true and loyal friend, but I wish Olaf Trygvasson had never tasted my beer."
"You would have your king ignore your accomplishments?" Leif asked.
"Yes! Did I not say the King is a Christian?"
"Aye. You did. What does that have to do with your beer?"
"Olaf is mad for my beer. He would have me chained to the brewery night-and-day if he could. As it is, he wishes to control Tiree's production of grain and products produced from my grain, and I know--I know he will try to control Tiree through his priests. I cannot allow Norway to control Tiree. He will start with forced baptism and end with confiscation of my holdings," Thorgunna paused. "I married to secure Tiree's safety. Quite literally, ours was a marriage to protect the beer. I must now protect Tiree on my own."
"I am sorry for the loss of your husband, Lady," Leif replied.
"Would you like to see his monument? The monument to Finn MacLean of Oban, my late husband?" Thorgunna asked.
"Yes, of course."
"Come, then. There is light enough," Thorgunna insisted, leading Leif outside. "It is not far."
Seemingly gliding down the familiar slope of Gott Hill, Thorgunna led Leif across a continuous grassy, flat field, through her herd of cattle and sheep, to a small stone circle.
"This is the site of an old 'dun'. Here lies all that remains of Finn MacLean--at least on this side of the sea. His estates in Oban are managed by a steward. I have the right to make claim. However, to claim my rights as Widow MacLean, I must leave Tiree. And I cannot leave Tiree."
"Forgive me, Lady. I do not know the word 'dun.' Is this a sacred site?" Leif asked.
"No. There are many 'duns' on Tiree. They are remnants of old stone fortresses and watch towers. The islanders had to protect themselves from Romans, Picts, Scots and the Norse over the years. Over the centuries! It was said Finn liked a good fight--so I put his memorial here."
"An odd way to describe the amusements your husband enjoyed," Leif said. "As if you knew him little."
Covering her mistake, not wanting Leif to know she had married and buried a husband without ever having met the man, she replied, "I knew his amusements quite well, sir."
"Of course, Lady. This monument--it is a portion of a strake and prow of a vessel, is it not?"
"It is. My husband died at sea. This debris washed ashore. We knew it was his ship. See, the strake bears a portion of the MacLean Family Crest," Thorgunna pointed to a visible, yet quite worn mark on one side of the strake.
"Was your husband a warrior? One who could defend your island?" Leif asked.
"No. He bred horses. And kept fighting men. He was amused by stories of the Romans, and actually referred to his private army as his 'Gladiators.' As a wedding gift, I was to receive a small contingent of men who could do more than fight with stalks of corn. However, the gift was conditional upon my producing an heir for the MacLean line. Finn died before we had children. Therefore, Tiree did not receive its army," Thorgunna sighed. "I have considered liquidating the MacLean estate to hire mercenaries, but could no more control Berserkers than the will of the king. Therefore, I return to defending my home, myself."
"Is Olaf and his Church so terrible that you need the swords of mercenaries to defend against them?" Leif asked, blessing the wind off the sea for plastering Thorgunna's over-dress and shift against her round frame.
"I have not made myself clear, have I? Olaf wishes to convert and baptize the lot of us, and thereby gain control of my island to satisfy his lust for my beer," Thorgunna reached out, taking Leif's shoulders in her hands, having to reach them first, he being much taller than her. "Leif, Olaf does not baptize with Holy Oil and Blessed Water. Olaf baptizes with the edge of a sword. A very sharp, very strong sword."
"He kills converts?"
"No. He beheads those who do not agree to the sacraments of the Church. He controls his converts."
Leif smiled, "I shall have to pray to Odin about this."
Thorgunna shook her head, "Take your pick of my flock for the offering, Greenlander. It won't do any good."
"Blasphemy!" Leif cried, feigning horror.
"I have had dealings with the Old Ones, Leif. They cannot be trusted any more than Norway."
Leif flashed his amazing smile again. "The gods walk Tiree?"
"Indeed, they do." Especially in my dreams. The gods are the bringers of nightmares and fear!
"Have they shown dissatisfaction at there being no cairns to them on this fair island?" Leif turned his body, pointing at the open expanse of grassy plain. "I saw none on my ride from the shore to this hillock. Every household invites Odin in. Greenland is no exception. From what I can see, Tiree is the exception. What does Thor think about this?"
"The gods are displeased," Thorgunna replied coolly. She felt a hot, stinging burning rise from her stomach to her throat. Best not to discuss the gods. Best not to think of the gods!
"Perhaps you should sacrifice to the thunder god, Thor. Thor--for whom you were named."
"Yes, for whom I was named," Thorgunna agreed.
"And shall you sacrifice of your flock to gain his favor?" Leif asked.
"No. I refuse to follow the olds ones. I choose to protect Tiree myself. I respect the gods, but do not pledge allegiance to them. They are a fickle lot."
"You are a brave woman. No wonder you are a Jarl," Leif complimented. "Lady, please forgive me, but the wind chills me. May we retire to your fire?"
"Of course, sir. Please let us go inside. It's getting dark, anyway." Very dark. It is the twilight of the gods, and I am caught in the middle of their battle for survival.
Thorgunna closed and bolted the door behind Leif. Locking out the night. Locking out her fear.
Leif piled several skins together and unabashedly reclined against them on the floor before the fire.
"Madam, I sense a sharpness of wit in Brigit that comes only from too much experience, if you understand my meaning. I've known women like her. Greenland is populated by them."
Thorgunna, seated across from Leif, replied coolly, "Men do not cross her path lightly. She may be small, but her temper is worse than the storm that drove you so far off course. She fought the Rus when they had her aboard ship. She fought the Rus as they dragged her to my shore. For every ounce of flesh they took from her, she took two from them. Brigit is special--and under my protection. I'll personally run my sword through any man who tries to force his way with her."
How very protective she is. "I'll watch my step," Leif replied, stretching out. "Are all the men and women of Tiree a part of your flock, madam Shepherdess?"
"Yes. We may be Norse and under Norway's thumb on Tiree, but I make the laws here. I enforce the laws. Women, children and animals are protected. On this Isle, one may not beat his child or dog and rape is punishable by death. If I were you, I'd share that with my crew."
"I've a crew of gentle souls, Lady. There will be no taking of women by force whilst we are waylaid upon your island. Of course, once your women get a look at my men, well, that's another matter," Leif bragged.
Thorgunna shook her head. "Men are always so pleased with themselves. Do all Norsemen truly believe that we want only to swoon in their presence and be ravished?"
Leif shot a look of great surprise at Thorgunna. "Don't you?"
As amusing and colorful the conversation was getting, Thorgunna was tired. I must not fall asleep in his presence before this warm fire, lest the beast strike us both down! "Leif, please make yourself at home. I, unfortunately, must retire for the evening. It is late. I rise early. We shall talk again, tomorrow, hmmm?"
"I apologize, Thorgunna. I slept for hours. Night has fallen and I am keeping you awake. Please forgive me and do have a restful sleep. Although I am refreshed in many ways, I am still quite weary. I, too, shall sleep soon. Of course, madam, we could stretch out by the fire and company each other until we are both soundly sleeping. Hmmmm?"
"Good night, Leif."
"Very well, then. Good night, Lady."
Thorgunna entered her chamber, proud that she had managed to keep so composed while with the Greenlander. His scent alone shall be my undoing. Here is a man who fills the cup of my senses to its brim and over, and I leave him by my fire unattended! Why do I go willingly into the hell of sleep, knowing what awaits me? I am but a caged animal, all-too-well accustomed to its cage. The Greenlander makes me uncomfortable. The nightmare, however painful, is at least familiar. Gods help me.
She extinguished the single oil lamp, turning the soft shadows of evening into a comfortable cage of darkness and dream. Sleep found her easily.
The dream was always the same. By day, she remembered only fleeting details of pain mixed with pleasure and darkness. By night, when her body and mind forced her to sleep, she relived the hell of the nightmare over and over again. Eight long weeks had she suffered. Eight weeks since Finn's boat had washed ashore in pieces. Eight weeks a widow to a man she had never met; never loved, and therefore, could not mourn. Eight weeks in the black arms of night's shadow beast.
Surrounded by sunlight, every move slow and deliberate, warmed even past the confines of her soul, Thorgunna surrendered herself to the act of true love. Unseen lips kissing her throat, phantom palms with deliciously enticing fingers cupping her breasts, Thorgunna opened her heart, her mind, her soul.
The body of light, the body of her man of light worshipped her as they made love. He had no face or voice. He cast only an impression of love and the sensual aroma of a man-of-the-sea. Salt. Leather. Sweat. A freshness that comes only from wind in one's hair and at one's back.
"No! Over too soon!" Thorgunna cried, as the pure light of love wafted away into the mists and vapors of her dream-realm. Her heart shattered and body went numb as a new lover took her into his arms. Hot, seductive, forbidden love.
Compelled by sinister unseen forces, Thorgunna touched her tongue lightly against each of the small white scars radiating out like spokes on a wheel around the lips of this new lover of dark-light and fear.
She brushed her tongue over the disfigured mouth. It tastes foul, she thought, trying to pull away as the hungry lips enveloped her in a long, wet kiss.
"Bring him back," she begged, turning her head away from the skillful, scarred lips.
"You do not need a little boy to amuse you when I can give you divine love," the mouth replied. "You are so strong with the sight. So beautiful in body. Men and gods would wage war for a chance to lie with you."
"I know who you are. I did not call you. I have never uttered your name in prayer. Why are you here? Why do you haunt and plague me so?"
"A killing tide comes in from Norway, dear Lady. I alone can shift the winds and therefore, stop the tide. You have but to trust me."
"You are evil," Thorgunna said, struggling to free herself from her demon-lover's embrace.
"No, I am not. Evil is one-sided. I am so much more than that. You call upon no god to protect Tiree. But, I am in a position to offer myself as, shall we say, the patron saint of your island. By night I shall make love to you in your dreams. By day I shall put Tiree to my own breast and suckle it upon the milk of Heaven."
"I don't trust you."
"Ah, do you trust the Rus Traders you bargain with so deliciously well?
"No. But that is business."
"Acknowledge me and let the trade circle commence! Mine is the trade agreement that will ensure the safety of Tiree!"
"It is considered an honor to sit in my circle. Only those I invite may do so. I have not invited you, nor do I acknowledge you," Thorgunna said.
"You have long waited for someone just like me to help you defeat the armies of change! No single man or even an army of men can defeat change, Thorgunna. I alone can protect Tiree from those threatening to control her. Erect a stone in my honor, become my consort beyond the veil of night, and the priests of Olaf--nay! Olaf, himself, will bother you no longer."
"I dedicate a monument to you, and you will send your mighty army to protect Tiree?"
"Protected Tiree shall be. However, I need no army. I am a god!"
"And should I lie under you in a dream, we would be lovers in this realm only?"
"Aye."
"Nothing more?"
"Not now. There will come a day when you will call me out and ask me to hold you as mortal man would."
"You must be summoned?"
"Again, for now, yes. My interaction amongst humankind is limited. My blood-brother and unfortunately, my keeper, fears, shall we say, my passions."
"I fear Olaf's desire and command that all Norsemen convert to the faith of the White Christ. I think perhaps I fear his love of Tireean beer even more. I also fear you will take me by force; however, Olaf, at every turn, rapes Tiree. There is no difference. You two are one-and-the-same. The Trickster and Olaf, King of Norway. Yes, you are both evil men," Thorgunna whispered.
The Trickster smiled. He was stunning. Radiant. Like the light of a full moon or bonfire in the distance crackling through the black of night.
"Olaf will not harm Tiree if you heed my advice."
Thorgunna smiled. She was voluptuous. A bounty of fleshy beauty; an offering worthy of a god. "I do not believe the powers of one little godling can protect Tiree. I am unafraid to face the tide, L..." Thorgunna stopped herself from saying the demon's true name. She knew his name. She knew better than to say it aloud.
"Oh, really? Well, Lady, you should fear the flotsam and jetsam about to wash up on your shores. They come, Thorgunna. The Rus Traders. And a band of storm-ravished Norsemen. Olaf of Norway. I know, Thorgunna," the demon cooed. "I can quell your fears. Call me out. Odin has tied my hands and fetters my will amongst humankind or I would stand before you of my own accord. Please, call me out."
"You are begging," Thorgunna replied.
"I beg to comfort you."
"Rather I should cut off my own right hand than call you home to Tiree."
"Do you not want to know about the coming Norseman? The Greenlander?"
The dream continued as always it had. Thorgunna wanted to scream--wanted to awaken the Greenlander already sleeping by her fire, but she could not. The dream controlled her. She was a puppet, manipulated by the God of Lies. She could not change the tide of the dream, no more than she could stop the tide of change flooding her island.
Forsaking reason and sanity, knowing she was making a grave error, but being completely unable to stop herself, the dream-Thorgunna uttered the one word she would long live to regret in any realm, "Loki."
As it had every night for eight weeks, the dream shifted from her house atop Gott Hill to her trade circle at Dun Mor' Caoles.
Thorgunna always sat at the circle headstone, with those of importance to the session arching around her from greater to lesser significance on either side. The stone directly across from her was reserved for the man or woman she wanted as far away from her as possible, the person she trusted the least, but had to have the best eye contact with.
It was a comforting moment. This is where my power lies. No man, or god, can best me in trade negotiations, Thorgunna thought.
Her nemesis sat across from her upon the stone reserved for the likes of untrustworthy business partners. Never had a more appropriate soul took the position that Loki now occupied.
Loki gracefully lifted into the air like a bird taking flight, lighting before Thorgunna, boldly taking her into his arms. "The Land Below the Waves welcomes me!" he shouted.
Breaking free, finding strength within the confines of her circle, Thorgunna pulled her lady's knife from under her cloak.
"I did not call you for a kiss!"
"A knife to gut fish with, that. What can you do to me? I am a god!" Loki laughed. Then adding in a rather vulgar fashion, "I've got a knife for you, however."
"I will not play your games. State your business."
"Ah, no games then, my sweet. I bring glad tidings. News of a heart made warm and your bed made warmer," Loki said seductively.
"My bed made warmer by you? Pain and fear do not make good company in the linens, sir. State your trade," Thorgunna said. She turned her back on the radiant demigod. "What news is worth the price you might exact for telling it?"
"Shall I become Tiree's protector? Or do you wish her to be savaged by the servants of Olaf and his God? What is your word, my love?"
"I do not trust liars."
"I may be the God of Lies and Tricks, but what I say now, is for your benefit. To protect Tiree. Hear me now, woman. What if we make a contract on speculation? You promise to worship me, and I promise to come when called, for the season only. We can then break the contract or renegotiate the terms," Loki mused.
"What must I do?" Thorgunna asked. I know business, Loki. Do not think you will win this test of wits because you have the blood of Odin in your veins.
"Construct a monument in my honor. It needn't be ostentatious. Just something that says, 'This island is Loki's'."
"This island is mine."
"No. It is not. It is within the realm of Olaf and will be his if you do not heed my warnings."
"What personal profit is there for me in a contract with you?"
Loki smiled. "I offer my love. In your eyes I offer something better than physical love, as well. Protection."
"Consistency could be the biggest lie of all coming from you," Thorgunna said.
Loki moved like shifting smoke around Thorgunna. "Soon, Thorgunna, soon enough, a man, a Greenlander, shall come ashore. An explorer. He shall explore you, I dare say. He comes now, his longship caught in Tiree's warm current. He and his crew are weary. The storm nearly killed them all. His ship is tattered and broken. They shall surely die without your aid. He will need rest, a bed...your bed."
Loki sniffed the air like a dog. "He comes, Thorgunna. I smell his stink from across the sea."
"How am I to pay you for this awe-inspiring prophesy since it is more than likely the case that I shall not worship you?"
Loki laughed and pressed his sinewy body against Thorgunna's buxom form.
"A kiss. I want a kiss and your answer. Nothing more."
"How could I kiss you? You are perverse. I know you are the father of a serpent and mother to an eight-legged colt. You change your shape and your sex as you desire to cater to your dark fantasies," Thorgunna cursed.
"Yes, I do get around. It's so much fun when the variety of life is as vast as the universe."
"Be gone," Thorgunna commanded.
"I'll leave you now after you give me what I desire. One kiss. One kiss, and you will know what it is like to be loved by a god."
"Why would I allow you to make love to me when you say the Greenlander will be my lover?" A Greenlander? How barbaric!
"This is why," Loki said, spinning Thorgunna around, pulling her to him and kissing her passionately. A kiss from a god. Physical contact with a being whose parts were more than just human, more than just godly. A kiss from the soul of deceit--not just four lips pressing, wet and warm, but a surge of desire, full of wanton sexual energy.
Thorgunna felt Loki melting into her, enveloping her, pleasuring her, the kiss a blanket of arousal--teasing, promising.
"I alone can protect Tiree," Loki cooed, releasing Thorgunna, who swooned backward, catching her footing before falling.
"And to garner your protection for Tiree, what must I do?" Thorgunna asked, mesmerized by the energy of Loki's embrace.
"Agree to worship me."
"State the terms of worshiping you."
"Commit the whole of the island to me. Construct a monument to me. Sacrifice to me."
"And what is it you require we sacrifice?"
"First and foremost, the word 'we' as in your Tirisdeach, your pathetic islanders, is not quite what I had in mind. You must sacrifice to me. You."
"You wish me to spill blood in your name," Thorgunna confirmed.
"Yes," Loki replied.
"The blood of what beast?" Thorgunna asked.
"I wish your maidenhead be ruptured in my name," Loki replied, his scarred lips twisting into a demonic grin.
Thorgunna raised an eyebrow. "That sounds unpleasant, Loki. And since sacrifices are made before witnesses, terribly public."
Loki laughed, "You are so clever! I do not wish your offering to be a public one. Allow me to restate. You must give me first passage. To sanctify this land and solicit my protection, I must first sow my seed in the dark, rich soil of Tiree. But you already know this. Why question the means to the end?"
"It is my body that you will take, that's why," Thorgunna scoffed.
"I need you," Loki said, trailing his skilled mouth across Thorgunna's.
Thorgunna suppressed the urge to vomit. "You speak in riddles, Loki. You say a Greenlander shall be my lover, and yet you would spoil me before even I take him into my arms."
"Think of the magic you can show him in the linens after I've taught you how to make love to a god! A mortal man cannot imagine the pleasure a woman can give when she's been infused with the blood, sweat, seed and promise of a god. I have given you my terms, Thorgunna. Make your decision."
"I'm a business woman, Loki. I would like to present a counter-offer."
"Of course."
"Tiree must be protected from Norway. Our way of life will change drastically should Olaf Trygvasson convert the Tirisdeach to the new faith against their will. No longer would any part of Tiree be mine to share with the islanders. All would belong to Norway. I cannot allow the freedom of Tiree to be usurped by the will of a greedy Christian king."
Loki nodded, "Agreed."
"All islanders are free to make their own decisions regarding worship of the gods. Should I agree to make you, Loki, the Trickster, as you so aptly put it, the 'Patron Saint of Tiree,' would not all inhabitants of this Isle be forced to worship you--and only you?"
"I offer to protect the island. If specifically called upon by an islander, I would act accordingly," Loki offered.
I'm beginning to understand, Thorgunna thought.
Oh, are you? Loki replied inwardly, reading Thorgunna's mind.
"Your price for protecting Tiree is a monument and the flesh of my womanhood. What does 'protecting Tiree' entail if the islanders are not included in the contract?"
"Your island would be safe. If your island is safe, would not the islanders be safe as well?" Loki mused.
Thorgunna, long having held trade circles with deceitful, clever men trying to best her, asked her question again, "What does 'protecting Tiree' entail if the islanders are not included in the contract?"
Loki grinned devilishly, "Why haggle over minutia?
"Tiree is not minutia," Thorgunna scolded.
"No, she is not. But, the details of our contract can wait. I see the longing in you, Thorgunna. The emptiness of your heart. The numbness fed by shattered dreams. The welling desire for my kisses blazing in your loins. I can feel the very soul of your womanhood, urging, begging, imploring me to know you."
Thorgunna blushed, hot and crimson. "Truthfully, my experience with men is limited. Your kiss did engage my senses. It's a good thing that I have long been able to set aside my personal desires for the good of Tiree."
"You are Tiree. What is good for you, is good for the land," Loki paused. "Thorgunna, my beautiful, Thorgunna--I am good for you. Let me make love to you. Your act would be selfless and completely in the best interests of Tiree. When I am upon you, and in you, moving my body against yours, you will know that it is the soil of Tiree I plow. And she will be better for it."
Darkness can hide in the light. Darkness can seduce, mesmerize, control and decay. Loki's darkness masked as light was slowly weaving the web of deception around Thorgunna, weakening her resolve.
Sensing his near-victory, Loki moved in for the kill. He slid his strong arms about Thorgunna's waist, kissing her throat.
"You bargain with skill that matches my own, Loki," Thorgunna said, neither pulling away nor succumbing to the embrace. "I believe we can make a contract if you allow me to adjust the terms."
"Anything," Loki replied, drunk with the passion of power.
"You protect Tiree for two years. If you keep the wolves at bay and the islanders safe from Olaf's baptism by sword and other as-of-yet unknown forces that will change our way of life, I will give you that which you desire. A monument and my virginity."
Loki laughed, "Two years?"
Thorgunna nodded.
"That's too long a wait, woman."
"Why? What's two years to a god?"
"The Greenlander," Loki said. I could not stop his arrival, although I certainly tried with that last storm.
"I have no intention of bedding the Greenlander," Thorgunna replied. "Surely he is not my true love."
Loki curled his lip into a beguiling grin. "You fool only yourself, Thorgunna. Your own second sight has shown you this very man, and he is the instrument of your passing into womanhood. However, if you put your word upon it that you shall not make love to this man, I agree to your terms. It will be most difficult, Thorgunna. Most difficult and entertaining, actually. Can you do it?"
"My word is law on Tiree."
"I will accept your terms provided you do not give first passage to the Greenlander. I will protect Tiree for two years, at which time payment must be made. A standing stone and the flesh of your body--not once--but as often as I demand it. I see a smoldering passion in you that I do not wish to share. Two years hence, you must agree to give me leave to pleasure myself fully in your soft folds."
"What if the call of this Greenlander's maleness is too much for me to bear and I fall back into the tall grass and beg him to ravish me whether I am in love with him or not?" Thorgunna asked.
"Your strength of will and chastity of body must be maintained. Otherwise, the contract between us is void, and Tiree shall fall. You will be made to stand witness to the destruction of your way of life, and then be cast out like so much rubbish for your failure to protect the island and its people."
"And you will then..."
"Find you--no matter where you are, and take you. Where Ketil failed, I shall succeed. As I pump the last drop of my seed into you, I promise, Thorgunna, I will kill you and capture your spirit. You will forever be mine."
"You know of Ketil?" Thorgunna choked, painfully recalling the man she had killed in self-defense four years earlier.
I was Ketil. "Of course. I know everything about you, Thorgunna."
Thorgunna moved away from the conniving demigod. "No Greenlander shall woo me into his arms."
"Into his arms is permitted. I cannot stop you from loving this man. And, Thorgunna, you will love him. It will be your undoing, but love him, you will. You must love him enough not to lie with him, however."
"Why?"
"I'll kill him, too. Eventually."
"He's only a Greenlander," Thorgunna replied.
"Yes. Do keep that in mind as he tempts you into the linens. He is a handsome buck, I'll give him that," Loki paused, his depravity and indiscriminate sexual appetite distracting him. "Thorgunna, I do need to ask you a few more questions--before we continue our negotiations and seal the pact, if you don't mind," Loki soothed.
"Yes?" Thorgunna replied.
"Have you accepted the sacraments of the Christ? Baptism? His body and blood in Communion? Perhaps as a young child?"
"No. I thought you knew everything about me, Loki."
"Mere formalities, dearest. Just a bit of that minutia I detest so. Do you have plans to construct a church?" Loki brushed his beard against Thorgunna's throat, pricking her with his wire-like whiskers.
"I would do so only to protect myself from you," Thorgunna replied.
He laughed. "With me you are thoroughly protected."
"That needs to be proved," Thorgunna replied.
"How shall we seal our contract, Thorgunna?" Loki asked.
"I clasp wrists with my new partner and the contract is recorded before witnesses," Thorgunna replied.
"We have no witnesses in this realm," Loki said. "But do take my hand, Thorgunna. Let me help you record our bargain in such a manner that you shall recall it for the rest of your life."
"Our bargain is such that we do not require the formalities of custom and tradition. You are a god. Is not your word promise enough?"
"Ah, yes. Of course my word is enough," Loki lied. "I, however, require we seal our contract, Thorgunna. You cannot deny me the opportunity to show you what you have to look forward to."
"I will not lie with you, Loki," Thorgunna replied, assuming Loki was trying to seduce her into the linens again.
"You may stand," Loki replied, his physical body shifting into a swirling mass of color and lights.
Thorgunna gasped as Loki transformed into his true form--a haze of dancing flames. The son of frost giants and blood-brother of Odin moved about her like a wind-born feather, burning her clothing away with icy blue flames, licking at her nipples and stomach, swirling under her back, across her buttocks and between her legs, stinging her with alternating freezing and scalding waves of unearthly ecstasy before flickering away into the graying skies above Tiree.
Completely overcome by Loki's spirit-being, Thorgunna stifled a scream of panic and pleasure, her internal organs seemingly exploding in rapturous waves of bliss followed closely by the pain of fire's kiss.
Beaten down, tasting blood in her mouth, his snake's tongue trailing across her lips, tasting her sweet life-force, Loki lashed out with his greater serpent, breeching the barrier of Thorgunna's body, spewing its venom upon her and in her like hard rain. "The pact is made!"