Land of Ice and Snow [Cairngorm Dragons 3] (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  He spoke to Ness about it later.

  “You are indeed favoured. She’s said to be an elf. She rewards those she likes with the pleasure she has just given you. She doesn’t appear often and never before, to my knowledge, to one not of the Ness Clan.”

  One of the maids came in and bobbed a curtsey to Ness. “If you please, my lord, Mairi sent me to tell you…”

  She got no further. Ness was on his feet and striding urgently out of the great hall. Lachlann followed. They got to the birthing chamber to find a maid stationed outside the door. Mairi was taking no chances.

  “Mairi says all is going well and would your lordships wait until she sends for you.”

  Lachlann went white as a scream of agony erupted from the throat of his sister and made Ness flinch in spite of the closed doors.

  “I will wait, but you will go inside, and from time to time you will come and tell me what progress is being made.” He turned on his heel and went to sit on one of the chairs Mairi had had provided.

  “Your sister will be having no more children,” he said. “I can’t stand her agony. I just hope she’s content with the girl she is wanting, and then we can stop all this.” He waved his hand at the door of the birthing chamber as more moans of pain were heard. Lachlann could not but agree with him. It was bad enough that the woman in labour was his sister. What was he going to feel when it was his mate and his child giving her so much pain? Ness had such a connection with her that he must be feeling every birth pang. He must feel helpless to prevent her pain, too. That was not a feeling that would sit well with Ness. He and Ness sat there for four more hours. At intervals the little maid arrived with words of comfort, which didn’t soothe either man. Eventually a thin reedy cry was heard, then another one. Lachlann watched Ness sag in his chair in relief that it was all over at last. He realised he was doing the same. Mairi came out ten minutes later.

  “You may go in and greet your children, my lord.”

  Ness rose to his feet with alacrity, and as the women filed out of the chamber, he went in.

  “Is my sister all right, Mairi?”

  “Yes, of course she is. She has a boy and a girl. Just what is needed for the succession. Why do I think that great mountain of a man knew what he was doing? He’s as soft as butter where she’s concerned and would protect her from every wind that blows. She’s made of sterner stuff, but she’s going to have her work cut out if she wants to convince him to have more babies. Two sons are barely enough to ensure the succession.”

  Ness came out and beckoned to Lachlann, who followed him into the chamber. Muireall was dressed in a white robe. She was lying back amongst banks of feather pillows. She looked pale, but she was smiling.

  “Come and meet your nephew and niece, Lachlann. Their names are Rowan and Shona.”

  She held one of her two babies swaddled in white cloths in each arm. Lachlann went to the bed and put out one finger to touch the head of Rowan then Shona. They blinked sleepily at him, and he smiled down at his sister.

  “Now I can go and tell Eilidh all about them. You take care of yourself and them.” He bent and kissed her on the top of her head, clasped Ness’s hands in his, and left. He collected his bag then changed into his dragon-form and flew swiftly back to the lands of Braemuir. He’d seen his sister’s babies, but no mate had been forth-coming.

  * * * *

  Once back at the Caisteal, he had perforce to satisfy not only Eilidh’s curiosity but his mother’s and that of as many of the females that could find business in the great hall while he told his story. When he’d finished, they all began to chatter about the babies, their names, and all the thousand and one things women find to talk about at such a time.

  “Lachlann, son, some with me to the solar,” his mother said.

  “Very well, Mother,”

  Once seated in the comfortable chairs that Eilidh had had made for this room that she loved, Lachlann’s mother looked at him.

  “What ails you son? Tell me.”

  “I need a mate, Mother. I see my brother and sister with a family and long for the same myself, but no female calls to me. I tried in Ness’s lands, but there was no-one there either.”

  “Well, maybe it’s you then.”

  “Me? What do you mean?”

  “The old family legend, passed down from generation to generation, tells that one day a Braemuir, not finding his mate within our lands, will go on a long journey and bring back a mate from amongst the ice and snow.”

  “Where is the land of ice and snow?”

  “I don’t know, but Mairi does.”

  “Well, I’m not getting anywhere here. If Ness can go to Japan to be trained in the bondage, I could go to that other land and seek a mate. Right, there is after all no time like the present. I’m going back to Darroch Keep to speak with Mairi.”

  “Do take care, my son. Stay safe.”

  Lachlann kissed his mother, and then he went to his chamber and filled his bag with things he thought he might need if indeed he went to this cold land. Then he went out of the Caisteal, giving it a long look as it might well be a long time before he returned if all went well. He changed to his dragon-form, and leaping in the air, his mighty pinions pumping, he took off and arrowed toward Darroch Keep. There was more hope in his heart than he’d had for many a day.

  Half an hour later, after flying as fast as he could, Lachlann landed in the forecourt, scattering small stones and pebbles. Quickly changing into his human-form, he entered the Keep.

  “I didn’t expect to see you back here for quite a while,” Ness remarked.

  “I have to speak to Mairi on a very urgent matter. Where is she?”

  “I’m here, Lord Lachlann. What is it you want with me?” Mairi asked, amusement in her voice. She’d always had a soft spot for Lachlann and often treated him as if he were still a child.

  “I’ve had no success finding a mate here or in Braemuir’s lands. My mother told me of the old family legend.”

  “That legend,” Mairi said. “There was a tale that a Braemuir, unable to find his mate in his native land, would travel to the land of ice and snow. There he would complete a task and win a snow maiden to bride.”

  “That’s more or less what my mother said. She doesn’t know where this land is, and she said you did know.”

  “It’s the land of the Norsemen. They are fierce warriors and have enormous ships of war. They used to raid along our coasts, and the blood of the Norsemen undoubtedly runs in many a man and woman’s veins here. The legend tells of a snow-bound land to the north, full of deep inlets that join the sea with the land. The maiden is slender, with pale-golden hair in a long, thick plait down her back. Her dress is rich and strange.”

  “Where does this land lie?”

  “Directly to the north.”

  “Then I will go and visit this land and see if the legend is true. I can find no mate here, so I have nothing to lose.”

  Chapter Three

  Outside the meeting hall, Sigourney waited with her mother, Gudrin. Sigourney, a tall, slender ice-maiden with a long, thick, white-blonde plait hanging down her back, was dressed for this formal meeting in the traditional dress. Her long black skirt was heavily embroidered in the old flower patterns. Her white blouse with voluminous, long sleeves showed under the tight-fitting waistcoat in the blue that befitted her station. It was also heavily embroidered down the front over her ample breasts and all along the back where it hugged her slender waist and emphasised her plump bottom. She wore a long cloak of bright-blue wool to keep out the cold. Her mother was similarly dressed. This was a formal occasion, and as such they had to do justice to their family name.

  “Sigourney, straighten your spine. Hold your head high. You out-rank them all. You are of the line of Hillesland, one of the most ancient and respected lines in our land. Remember your family pride, whatever is said in there. Show no emotion. You will survive this. The gods have sent this trial to you because you are strong enough to bear it. I will be with
you.”

  The doors opened, and they were beckoned inside. Sigourney remembered other occasions in this hall. Most of them had been happy and celebratory in nature. The present one was neither. Only the women were present. The rush lights in the wall-sconces made the atmosphere smoky. It was warm in the hall, with a large log fire blazing in the hearths placed at either end. The carved and painted dragons gazed down impassively on her from the ceiling. This was a solemn occasion and could well decide her future fate and happiness.

  “Gudrin, we are here to ask, what is the problem with your daughter? She is past the age of mating and has chosen no man yet.”

  “Perhaps she waits for the orange-and-gold one the legends tell of,” a toothless old crone cackled.

  “Whatever she does, she is causing trouble. The young men take no mates because they live in the hope she will choose them. The older males sniff after her as she walks the streets. They are restless, and soon we shall have adultery.”

  There was a collective gasp at that. Adultery was unheard of, and it was a grave charge to lay at anyone’s door. Sigourney shook her head but remained calm and said not a word.

  “We have decided that she must choose one male to mate with today or be banished until she does.”

  At that Sigourney looked slowly around at all the women gathered there. There wasn’t one who looked to have any sympathy. They had all chosen mates in the traditional way when the male had called and they had responded. No male had called to her in that way. Was she to have less than all these women? They had ever been envious of her position and beauty, and this was a way of getting even.

  “No, I will not take just any male. I want what you all have, that communion of minds and bodies. Not some second-rate substitute.”

  The woman, Helga, who had spoken before, and whose son had been always sniffing round Sigourney, looked sourly at her. It was as Sigourney suspected, a ploy to force her hand and get her to marry Helga’s son. A fine advance for that family to be so linked with hers. Now she knew who her real enemy was and would be able to deal with it.

  “I choose banishment until I find my one, true mate.” She turned and gathered the thick woollen cloak about her and, followed by her mother, swept out of the hall with regal bearing.

  “That didn’t go the way you planned, Helga. There’s more fire under all that ice than any of us suspected,” the old crone said and cackled in amusement.

  The next day in dragon-form, sitting atop the icy mountain, Sigourney pondered her fate. Not many mates to be found out here. How long would it be before she could return to her family? She wouldn’t give in to despair. She wanted a mate but not just any mate. She’d seen the connection her parents had and desired that for herself. What must it be like to find the right man and know he lived for her alone as she did for him? Her mother had said the gods had sent this trial as a test. She would pass it and return in triumph.

  The afternoon sun gilded the snowy peaks, and her keen eyes caught a movement. She peered into the sun and thought she saw wings. I must be mad. It’s all the talk of the legendary one from over the seas that is making me see things. She narrowed her eyes and peered into the sun again. No I’m sure that was movement. She opened her eyes wide and saw a vision. She beheld a creature of power, strength, and great beauty. He was glorying in his flight, soaring over the mountains and heading straight for her. He was huge, and his wings were the biggest she’d ever seen. Strong and powerful, the mighty downbeat pushed him ever faster toward her. He was magnificent. She knew he was a male but not how she knew. Has he seen me? What is he? Why is he here? Is the legend true then?

  * * * *

  With the sun behind him, the golden-orange scales on his wings caught the sun’s rays and flashed like fire as he flew, relishing the long flight. He almost missed seeing her. He just happened to look down at the mountain, and he caught a flash of green fire and a quickly suppressed thought about the legend. He dropped down to where he thought he had seen the flash of green. With his mighty wings beating powerfully in the thin air, he hovered and gazed at her. Lightning struck, and he was lost in the deep emerald of her gaze. She was pure white with a soft golden tinge to the tips of her scales. Smaller than the dragons at home she might have been, but the intelligence and love that shone from those eyes pierced his heart. This is it then. This is what they have all felt, and now I feel it.

  “My mate,” he bellowed, a challenge to any other male who might be in the vicinity.

  “Are you my mate? Is this what it feels like to find the one?”

  “Yes, my little, white dove, you are my mate, and I will cede you to no other. The legend was true. You are here, and you wait for me alone. Why are you so sad, and why are you alone on top of this mountain, my dove?”

  “I have been banished because I would not settle for just any mate.”

  “No, you are not for just any man. You are mine now. Please take me to your Clan and we will sort this out now.”

  “What’s a Clan?”

  “Your family or group. In my land we call it a Clan. I am Feasgar of the Braemuir Clan. The Clan chieftain is my brother. We will go now.”

  Obediently she lifted off and led him up the fjord to the settlement at Alesund. They both landed in dragon-form and then changed. The homes were of modest size and all sturdily built of logs. Smoke issued from the chimneys. The spaces between the logs were filled with moss to insulate the homes, Lachlann judged. It would be needed here. The air was crisp and cold even in the sun. The settlement itself was not large compared to the ones he was used to at home. A crowd gathered, and he noticed the beautiful clothes with their rich embroidery, contrasting with his Braemuir tartan plaid and his huge sword. He had on a leather jerkin lined with sheep’s wool. The sleeves were long and tight about his wrists. Leather strips had been sewn onto the jerkin in an intricate pattern. His clothes were different but not inferior. The people looked prosperous and well fed, even if the small town was more modest than the ones he was used to. The crowd gathered closer about them as she held his hand. He learned her name then.

  “Sigourney, why have you returned from exile without permission? Who is this stranger?” A woman asked belligerently. From Sigourney’s mind link he learned the woman’s name was Helga, and there was no love lost between his mate and her. He learned the history of Sigourney’s banishment and what she thought were the reasons behind it. This didn’t predispose him to like Helga.

  “I can’t see what it has to do with you, but I am Lachlann of the Braemuir, come from across the ocean to claim my mate.” Lachlann’s powerful voice stilled all protests, and he took Sigourney’s other hand in his, pulled her to him, and raised her hands to his lips.

  “If any man challenges my right to this woman, let him come and fight me now.”

  Needless to say, there were no challengers. Lachlann wasn’t as massive as Ness or Braemuir, but he stood a head taller than any of the young males present. Most of them would have been hard-pressed to lift the sword he brandished so easily.

  Sigourney led him to her father’s house. The crowd followed out of curiosity. Isolated as they were Lachlann assumed they didn’t often have visitors and certainly not from across the ocean. Lachlann noted that Sigourney’s was a larger house than the rest, and he supposed that meant her family were of some consequence. Still the house was on a much less opulent scale than the Caisteal, so Sigourney was in for a surprise when she went home with him. A man and a woman came out of the house. The woman looked like an older version of Sigourney.

  “Lachlann, may I present my mother, Gudrin and my father, Axl. Mother, Father, this is Lachlann of Braemuir from across the ocean.”

  Lachlann shook hands with Axl and kissed Gudrin’s hand.

  “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have come here seeking a mate. I believe that your daughter is my destined mate.”

  Axl smiled as Gudrin took her daughter in her arms and kissed her cheek.

  “Welcome to Alesund, Lachlann of B
raemuir. Our daughter is dear to us, and I can see we have much to discuss.”

  “He’s the one of the legend, Mother. His dragon is golden-orange, and he flew across the ocean to find me.”

  “Very touching,” Helga spat out. “Then he will have to fulfil the rest of the legend.” Sigourney turned to look at her. “The lost golden marriage-torc has to be reclaimed from the old dragon under the mountain.”

  A gasp of shock escaped from Sigourney’s mouth.

  “How can you expect him to do that? No-one has ever returned from such a quest. Why do you want to send him? It will make no difference. I will never marry your son.”

  “Hush, Sigourney. It is the legend,” Gudrin said.

  “I challenge him to do it,” Helga screeched.

  “Now he is obliged to accept or withdraw,” Axl stated.

  “Then I accept.” Lachlann’s voice was loud and steady, his tone betraying none of the fear that Helga had obviously hoped to hear.

  “Let’s go inside and eat a meal. I can tell you the rest of the legend then,” Axl suggested.