Lord of Raven's Peak (15 page)

Still she didn't move. His sex began to swell, he could no more prevent it any more than he could the rising of the sun.

“You want more of the pain you endured last night?”

She shook her head, still silent.

“Then cease looking at me, damn you! I played my part in front of Erik, but now I wish only to sleep.” His sex was jutting forward, hard and ready. His heart pounded; he ached with need for her, damn her.

She'd been looking at his face, but when she gasped, he knew she was staring at him again. He said nothing more, merely eased down onto the bed.

The chamber was dark now for she'd doused the oil lamp. He heard the rustle of her clothes, but didn't move.

“Your story is passing strange. Is it more than just a simple tale, I wonder?”

“That's all it is, Merrik, a simple tale.” She could practically hear him thinking in the darkness, gnawing on questions about her and Taby. She sought to distract him, saying, “Letta told me that she didn't mind that I was your whore because you could use me. I guess she meant you could practice on me, but I don't believe you need practice. Well, perhaps you could have benefited from practice last night, but I don't really know.” Ah, she heard him suck in his breath. She'd gotten her distraction all right. She hoped he wouldn't strangle her. She continued, her voice mocking, “I fancied myself as some sort of target and your coming at me as a mighty sword. You didn't miss the target, but it wasn't a clean
kill either, speaking as the target, of course. I suppose swords don't mind so long as it is a kill for them. In any case, she is pleased that I will give you the use of my body until you and she are wedded.”

“She is more a child than Taby.” He was infuriated with himself that he'd spoken thusly to Laren. What he would do with Letta was his affair and no other's. “On occasion,” he added, “most women are like children.” He rolled onto his back, staring up into the darkness. He said after a long moment, battling with himself to just keep quiet and ignore her baiting words, but he found he couldn't, “I don't like your insulting comparison. What nonsense is this—you a target and I a sword? What do you mean, I need more practice?”

“I mean that I asked Sarla about how a man and a woman mated. She assured me it didn't hurt after the first time and even the first time it wasn't bad if the man was gentle and experienced. It was pleasant for a while, she said, then she became very silent and said no more. Thus, perhaps you do need practice, Merrik. At least for that first time.”

He felt roiling anger at her, but more at himself. He'd been a clod. “Do you still hurt?”

“Aye.”

“I won't practice on you again until you are completely healed and ready for me and ask me nicely. Now, you will cease your damned insults. Aye, they are insults, you just cloak them in your gentle guile.”

“I told you, Merrik, that last night would be the only time. It is a pity that I won't ever know if mating can be pleasurable, but I won't allow myself to become more interested in you, as a man, that is.”

“Then why were you staring at me, your eyes as bright as a child's staring at honeyed apple slices? I showed interest only because my man's body is like
that. It responds when a woman stares, even you. There is nothing I can do to stop it. Not that I want to come inside you again, the gods know I don't.” He stopped himself. He was making little sense, blatantly lying both to himself and to her. He was burying himself in a hole that would send him to the bottom of the fjord if he didn't shut his damned mouth.

She said nothing. Absolutely nothing at all, and he waited and waited, unwilling to say more. Then he heard her breath even into sleep. He wanted to strangle her. By all the gods,
practice
! He'd learned well to pleasure women, his father had seen to that, as had the wonderful Gunnvor when he'd been but twelve years old, when she'd taken him in hand, literally. Surely it wasn't his fault that he'd wanted her so badly he'd been forced to come into her before it was wise. Surely.

 

All awoke the next morning to a flood of rain. Tempers flared quickly at the enforced inactivity, men yelled at each other, fights broke out, children fought and shrieked with as great enthusiasm as the men. Even the animals were surly, a small goat biting one of Thoragasson's men on his ankle. It was Cleve who suggested to Merrik that Laren continue the story. “Aye,” he said, grinning at the man he trusted with his life, “let her weave her magic around them. It will keep heads on shoulders, and hands from around throats.”

“It will do nothing about the goat,” Merrik said, but agreed.

And so it was still before noonday, when everyone had finally fallen silent, that Laren began again.

“ . . . Rolf wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. The thick canopy of trees kept the sun from warming him. He knew he was searching for a beast to kill him, but none appeared. Aye, there were lynxes and rabbits,
even braces of pheasants that lurched into the air when he came upon them suddenly, but nothing larger than a fox.

“The third day of his wandering, he came to the edge of a small meadow. It was the most beautiful meadow he'd ever seen and he knew he'd never seen it before, and he wondered at that, for he'd grown up here, hunted in this forest. Yet here was this beautiful meadow, carpeted with flowers of all colors, and the sun warmed his face and his body. Suddenly, as he stood there, wondering perhaps if his wits were failing him, he saw on the far side of the meadow a beautiful creature that looked like a small horse. It didn't move, just stood there, sniffing the soft morning air, its thick white tail swishing. But somehow, Rolf knew the animal wasn't the least afraid of him.

“The creature was ducking its head up and down, as if inviting Rolf to come closer. Rolf slowly walked toward the animal. He realized as he drew closer that it wasn't a horse at all, or any other kind of animal he'd ever seen before. It turned to face him fully now, and he saw a horn growing upward in the middle of its forehead. And the horn was gold.

“He walked to the creature and slowly reached out his hand.

“The creature snorted, then stretched out his beautiful white head and laid his muzzle in Rolf's palm.

“ ‘Who are you?' Rolf asked, surprising himself that he would speak aloud to a creature.

“To his utter astonishment, the creature said softly, ‘I am a unicorn, Rolf, ah, but I am also more. You are weak from wandering about in the woods. Go back to your longhouse, then tomorrow return here.'

“The unicorn turned then, rearing onto its hind legs, its beautiful white mane and tail arching and flying,
and galloped back into the depths of the forest. Rolf would swear he heard the voice calling to him, ‘Do not forget your weapons tomorrow, for 'tis dangerous in the forest.'

“Rolf went back to his longhouse, stunned that it took him only an hour to return. His brothers were relieved to see him and gave him good food and wine and ceased in their bedeviling of him. They clapped him on the back and told him how happy they were that he'd come back. He found himself telling them about the unicorn and describing it and its beautiful gold horn. He told them that the unicorn had spoken to him and told him to return to it on the morrow. Didn't they think that curious? What did they think of this creature who had suddenly appeared to him?

“He then asked his brothers what they would do. Ragnor wondered if his brother had lost his wits and dreamed about this strange creature. He said only, ‘You said the horn was of gold?'

“And Rolf said, ‘Aye, 'twas of pure gold if my eyes weren't deceiving me.'

“Both brothers fell silent, deep in their thoughts.”

Laren paused, then smiled toward Olaf Thoragasson. “If you were Rolf, my lord, what would you do about the unicorn?”

Olaf Thoragasson pounded his big fists on his thighs. “Why, I would kill the creature and cut away its golden horn. I would sell it to the richest prince in the world and become just as rich myself.”

After the cheers had died away, mostly from Thoragasson's men, Laren turned to Erik. “And what would you do, my lord?”

Erik gave her a long, lazy smile. “I would not kill the creature. I would bring it back to my longhouse and I would treat it as tenderly as I would treat a woman. It
speaks, and thus I would gain its trust. It would have a mate. I would find that mate, and keep them together. Surely they would have offspring and then I would have more golden-horned creatures. Thus I would become even richer than Olaf Thoragasson.”

The cheering filled the smoke-hazed room.

Finally, Laren turned to Merrik. “And you, my lord? What would you do?”

Merrik was stroking Taby's hair. He looked up at her as she spoke. He was silent for many moments, then shrugged and said, “I would do naught of anything so quickly. I would return to the meadow and see what the magical creature had to tell me.”

“A man of strategy,” Thoragasson said, nodding his head in approval. “Continue, girl. Tell us what happened.”

“This time Rolf did as Merrik advised. He didn't want to react so quickly. He'd already done that and lost himself a friend and a slave of great talent, and, he suspected when the night was at its darkest, some of his honor. The following day, he returned to the meadow. He'd wondered how he would find it, but just as suddenly, he stepped through a thicket of maple trees, and there it was, the sun shining brightly down upon it, the flowers wafting out sweet scents in a light breeze. The unicorn stood on the other side of the meadow, calmly watching Rolf walk to him. He allowed Rolf to muzzle his head. He allowed Rolf to stroke his golden horn.

“Rolf said, ‘The horn is pure gold?'

“If a unicorn could smile, this one did, and it said, ‘Aye, of the purest, Rolf. Why do you ask?'

“ ‘My brothers gave me advice. They told me to either kill you and steal your golden horn or capture you and then your mate and thus have both of you and then your offspring.'

“ ‘I do not think I like your brothers,' the unicorn said. ‘What do you wish to do, Rolf?'

“ ‘I wish to speak to you, to learn who and what you are. I have never before seen a creature like you. Who sent you?'

“ ‘It's true I am magical,' the unicorn said. ‘But I am also more. I am also your former slave, the one you smote with your sword.'

“Rolf stared at the creature. He drew his sword for he was certain the beast would try to kill him. He'd come back for revenge. He stood there, his sword poised in his hand, and the unicorn did nothing, didn't gallop away from him or attempt to protect himself in any way. Rolf raised the sword, then slowly, very slowly, he lowered it, and said, ‘I cannot do it. When I killed you before, I knew such horror at myself that I came here to the forest to die. But you found me instead. Tell me what to do, for I wish to atone for taking your life. If you choose to kill me, I will make no move against you.'

“The unicorn nodded his beautiful white head, the golden horn glistening in the bright sunlight. Then, quite suddenly, he seemed to fade into nothing more than shadow and light, until Rolf knew he could see the sunlight through the creature's body, so pale had it become. He knew terror such as he'd never known. He fell to his knees, and clasped his arms around himself, waiting to die. But then as the unicorn was disappearing, something else was coming together and gaining darkness with the light and substance with the shadows. It was the slave he had smote with his sword. He held out his hand to Rolf and lifted him up. He said, ‘The gods have granted us both another chance. Come with me, Rolf, and we will journey together back to my family, for they miss me sorely. Come.'

“Rolf's two brothers never saw him again. They
mourned him even as they believed him to have lost his wits, for surely the unicorn had killed him, and he'd trusted the beast, trusted him, and look what it had gotten him.

“But then there came a story into Vestfold told by a very old skald, toothless and scrawny, with thin bowed legs. All doubted he had anything worthwhile to say, but when he opened his mouth, all fell under his magic. He told about a man called Rolf the Viking, a man who was strong and fierce, a man to be trusted in all things, a man splendid of body and of face, and a man who was wiser than most men should be at such a young age. All honored him, all knew they could trust him, for it was known that once Rolf had been tested and had finally learned the way to true honor and worthiness.

“And his brothers wondered, even as they shook their heads in disbelief at their thoughts. Surely, they reasoned, there were many Rolfs who were tested and found worthy, but nonetheless, both wanted to question the old skald the next morning. When they went to search him out, he was gone, the men at the palisade gates said, gone with the rising of the sun, ah, but he hadn't disappeared with the sun, but rather into it, fading and fading, becoming as gold as the brilliance of the growing dawn light until he was simply gone. The brothers looked at each other. From that day onward, neither of them ever again mentioned either their brother or the strange appearance and disappearance of the old skald and his tale of Rolf the Viking.”

Laren smiled directly at Merrik quite without realizing it. He looked at her, then down at Taby who was wide-awake, watching his sister, a frown on his small face. Taby said quite clearly, “Laren, I remember the unicorn.”