Rake My Lust (Dragons of Blood and Bone #3)

5. Trial

5

TRIAL

B jorn, Strom, and I manage to get some rest that night in our cell, though all of us are too tired to do much more than kiss before the fire, pondering what is to come. We’re awakened first thing in the morning for our Trial, by guards who startle us out of sleep as they unlock the magic upon the cell door.

It seems everything has been arranged on short notice, as my mates and I are now ushered out of our prison. Once again, we’re escorted through the palace, but this time to a high tower rather than the Jarl’s hall.

A place where we can take wing and fly to our Trial of Truth.

All our belongings from the Old Palace are stuffed in fly-bags, carried by our guards. No fewer than thirty Magnussen Clan guards attend us as we’re placed in different silver manacles now, which still hamper our magic but allow us enough to shift. As Bjorn, Strom, and I shift up into our dragons and vault into the clear morning sky, our guards surge up around us, carrying our gear.

Escorting us to the unknown place where we’ll face our Trial.

It’s a long, grueling flight. As we leave the Jarl’s fortress, surging ever higher into one snowy mountain range, then another, I’m hard-pressed to keep up with our guards, much less entertain any thought of escape.

Because though I’m permitted enough magic to fly up into these towering, isolated peaks, my breath is labored and my heart beats hard from such fast flying at such high altitudes.

These peaks in the northernmost part of Magnussen territory are far more than fourteeners; they are all twenty thousand feet or higher. I know by how thin the air up here is now.

Strom’s red drake with its sparkling green geodesic markings is an agile flyer, but he’s a coastal dragon, and has to fight for breath now as he firms his determination like a lance to carry on.

Bjorn’s gold drake with its strong red tattoo designs was born in these high altitudes; but it’s been a long while since he’s been home, and he struggles for breath as much as Strom now.

Only our guards who fly these peaks are in any kind of shape to keep going, but somehow, my drakes and I do. The only thing that bolsters me as we fly, besides my sheer stubbornness, are my two drakes flying beside me.

With me to the end—no matter how far that goes.

The clear river water scent of Strom hits me now in these crystalline altitudes as he flies beside me, with its hints of aphrodisiacal elderflower. Bjorn firms my intent to get through this also, as I inhale his good pipe tobacco scent into my lungs, burning with peat whiskey, smooth honey, and battlefield char.

It puts a song in my heart to fly on, my drakaina intent with vengeance for him against his father. Just when I think I’m about to pass out from the elevation even in my dragon form, black spots blossoming before my eyes, we crest the highest stretch of mountains yet.

A steep vale below, surrounded by a tight ring of peaks.

The bluest lake I’ve ever seen fills that vale; it’s pure, pale color is only visible through an enormous hole cut into the twenty-foot-thick ice. We touch down on that glossy surface; as the wind whips around the tight vale, it stirs up magnificent gales of snowdrifts from the peaks all around us, into the high, sunny day.

We’ve been flying for a while; the sun is at its zenith, and every part of me roars for food now to replenish my exhaustion. But I know it isn’t coming, as our escorts shift back down to human, motioning for us to do the same.

Bjorn, Strom, and I do. We’re provided with massive furs to huddle in now, as we wait for other Magnussen Clan Blood Dragons to crest the peaks. As they wing down towards the frozen lake, I understand these are our witnesses, dragons who represent the highest echelons of the Magnussen Clan’s royals, judges, and military personnel. Bjorn watches them all, as many of them give him deep, honoring nods, knowing him from long ago.

And he nods back.

We’re surrounded in this valley now by the witnesses here to observe our Trials. It’s such a small vale, I can see them all; their craggy, strong faces are impassive as they take seats on incredible thrones carved right out of boulders, which have crashed down to the lake from the peaks above.

As we wait, I see a number of our witnesses enjoying a midday repast they’ve brought, and mead. We get nothing, however, as our guards keep their perimeter around us in the center of the ice, beside the gigantic blue hole.

At last, we see the Jarl himself wing down, with a formidable honor guard. They take their time coming to us, as if Jarl Oggi Magnussen is in no hurry, our demise already sealed by us asking for this Trial.

At last, the massive gold and black drake that is Jarl Oggi Magnussen has settled before us. I like him even less than when I first encountered him; the Jarl’s dragon is a brute, more gargantuan than anything I’ve seen, save a Crystal Dragon.

He towers over the rest of his guard, his golden body shimmering in the sun but his black markings stark. He’s a creature made for these terrible heights; as Jarl Oggi raises his blocky head now, regarding us with his gold-black eyes, he snorts.

Sunlight cascades off his viciously serrated, gilded scales, scattering in rainbows across the ice. The Magnussen Clan Jarl is intimidating, impressive, and blinding as he coils up barbs-out in the sunshine with the white glacial ice all around.

He pauses in dragon form for a long while, before finally shifting down. His honor guard has already returned to human, and they step forward now to give their Jarl an impressively white cloak of bear, fox, and ermine fur, which he slings on around his shoulders.

It covers his nakedness, with draping sleeves and a high collar as he buckles it closed, though Jarl Oggi’s impressive stature is hard to miss. Even far more built than his son, Bjorn’s father is a massive brick house of a man, despite his later years. With a barrel chest, strong thighs, and massive calves, even his forearms bulge like a world-class strongman as he finishes the last buckle on his cloak.

Then pins us with his molten gold-black gaze.

“Rikyava Andersen of the Erdhelm Clan, Strom Eriksson of the Eriksson Clan, and Bjorn Magnussen, formerly of the Magnussen Clan, you have been brought here today before these hundred witnesses to complete your Trials of Truth, or die trying. What say you?” Jarl Oggi watches us, addressing us in what I’m sure are ceremonial words as he opens the proceedings.

“We say aye ,” Bjorn says without pause, knowing how this goes as he speaks for Strom and me, as well. “We three are here to invoke the Trial of Truth, for each of us, to let it be known before these witnesses that we speak the truth and have been wrongfully waylaid from our mission these past few days. I would additionally like to invoke the Right of Illumination now—that we may explain to our witnesses why we are here today.”

“The Right is yours.” Jarl Oggi gives a cold nod, though I get the sense he’d rather we not tell everyone why we’ve asked for this event today.

“Honored nobles and leaders of the Magnussen Clan.” Bjorn turns to face our witnesses, taking them in with a full sweep of his gaze now, rather than face his father anymore. “We have gathered before you today to invoke this ancient Trial, because we are being wrongfully detained in a situation most dire. A situation that is of utmost concern to our King and the security of this great nation, which he himself has tasked us to hunt.”

I see several eyebrows rise all around us now in the tiny valley. At the margins of the lake, our witnesses have gone from casually interested in why their almost-Jarl has returned and risked pissing off his father, to deep awareness now.

Bjorn’s carefully chosen words have made this Trial a matter of state, rather than of just clan law. As many of our witnesses glance at each other, then lean forward in their boulder thrones, I know we have their full attention.

Because this could be an issue of treason, if Jarl Oggi has waylaid us during a mission for the King.

“My mate, Hog Skjaldm?r Rikyava Andersen, has with her a Blood Seal given to her by our King,” Bjorn continues, as he nods for me to produce my Seal. “Upon it, you will find her name, my name, and Jarl-Heir Strom Eriksson’s name, as given especial permission by our King to cross any borders into Blood Dragon lands, upon this mission which he sent us.”

Thankfully, Captain Mortensen is with us; he moves forward now, though his Jarl glares at him, offering me my things so I can fetch the Blood Seal from the pocket of my fighting leathers. I hold it up, not knowing how in seven hells our witnesses are going to see what’s on it, when a raspy, old voice from our witnesses barks, “ Illumine! ”

It’s ancient magic the crone shoots at the paper I hold; as her magical blood-lance smites my document, it fountains up massive, gilded writing high into the sky above the lake.

Everything on my document is now blown up a hundredfold as I hold the paper above my head. As the witnesses take a moment to read my missive, its words painted bright through the midday air, I see even more eyebrows rise.

Then several scowls, as their gazes pin their Jarl.

Jarl Oggi Magnussen weathers the judgemental stares of his clan leaders. He’s finally read my Blood Seal now also—something he neglected to do before in his anger.

His gold eyes burn as they find me now. A tight black-gold Bloodwind whirls around him as his gaze finds Bjorn, the Jarl seething with fury that we have an all-access pass to any clan lands, to chase down the Black Dragon and any Bone Mages who might wield it.

My drakaina trumpets inside me, even as my black drake snarls in wrathful pleasure; it’s a big deal if Jarl Oggi reinforces his position now on our guilt, because it would essentially tell his King to fuck off. I see him stew for a long moment, churning in thought.

Before he pins us all with his steely golden gaze—Bjorn last.

“Though you have a Blood Seal from our King, giving you passage through any clan lands,” the Jarl says as he stares us down, his gaze terrible upon Bjorn. “It does not give you the right to enter an ancient sacred site, holy to us, and severely desecrate its hallowed halls. You may have permission from our King to cross our borders and follow whatever trail you are following on your hunt. But this writ does not give you permission to ruin our most sacred heritage sites. Which you have done, by entering Unhaemmerten and utterly destroying some of its most central chambers. Such an act falls under our laws of Reckless Desecration of a Site of Blessed Rest. And the penalty for that, since ancient times…is death.”

As Bjorn growls low in his throat and Strom bristles, both of them manifesting a tight whirl of power now, I know Jarl Oggi has got us on that one. We still have one card left to play, however, and I step forward, my inner dragons strong.

To play the hell out of it.

“Did we break into your ancient sacred site and harm it? Yes.” I am blunt now, as I stare not at Jarl Oggi but at our witnesses all around, my gaze sweeping their thrones as I let a fell wind breathe off me now from whatever power I’m allowed in my current manacles. “Did we do it because we were on the trail of something far more deadly and dangerous than anything any of you have ever seen in life? Yes.”

“Explain,” the old crone says again in her rough bark; as my gaze swings to her, I see her glittering, ruby-bright eyes and wonder who she is, as she has essentially helped us out twice now against her Jarl.

An old bitch of a drakaina who doesn’t give a single fuck about him, apparently.

“If you know the tale of Unhaemmerten ,” I say now as my gaze pins her, then surveys the crowd again. “Then you know the tale of the Black Demon of Unhaemmerten . For there was a terrible creature that caused the ancient downfall of Seerselen. And it is this creature risen again now which we track for our King.”

Deep inhales of surprise go off all around us in the frozen vale. We’ve certainly piqued their interest now, as quite a few shocked cries burst into the crystal-thin air, along with astonished rushes of dragon magic.

Which I let settle before I go on.

“Now you really have to explain,” the old crone says as her ruby-bright eyes drill into me. “Keep in mind, young drakaina, niece of the King, that anything you say here in front of these witnesses may be used during your Trial, to test you of your truth-telling. If any part of what you tell us now is false, it will come out in your Trial. And you shall fail, blood-daughter. To the severe displeasure of our King, I believe… which may have repercussions upon all of us.”

Her words are extremely wise as she warns me now; though I can see Jarl Oggi seethe with fury as this ancient woman speaks, he does not interrupt her. Clearly, she’s someone of great personage in the Magnussen Clan. Setting his hand to his heart, Bjorn honors her now with a low nod.

Almost a bow, as she nods quietly back.

Before her eagle-red eyes pin me once more.

“I speak no lies this day,” I say now, holding her formidable gaze and giving it back in spades. “We are on a mission for the King, my uncle, to find a beast of the ages; a terrible, undead Black Dragon that once decimated not just Seerselen, but all of Blood Dragondom. It has risen again, for only the gods know what reason, resurrected from its ancient burial site by renegade foes we also hunt. They killed my mentor Maryse Allbright… then razed her home village of Jurggadden with the Black Demon just a few days ago. Would you like to go check out the massive destruction of Jurggadden yourselves? I can wait.”

“Your hunt holds ancient legends and dire tales,” the old crone says now as she watches me. “We will confirm your tale about Maryse and Jurggadden in our own ways. But right now, are you asserting there is some connection between your hunt and the sacred site of Unhaemmerten ? More than just because it holds the dead who were killed by this creature long ago?”

“Yes.” I speak to her alone now, though everyone is listening. “For your beloved cairn-city of Unhaemmerten was said to hold items of ancient power at its center—items that may contain the key to stopping this creature. When we were down there, we discovered an altar of relics, used to create the Black Demon long ago. We believe they may hold the secret to stopping it. And un-making it, once and for all. If this assembly might set us free to do so.”

“It is beyond our power to set you free, child,” the old drakaina says, though her severe gaze flicks to her Jarl now. “You have chosen the Trial of Truth; by our ancient laws, now that it has begun, it cannot be halted. You must continue. Even if it was most unwise of our Jarl to place you and your mates in this situation in the first place.”

I feel it as this ancient drakaina and the Magnussen Jarl hold an intense standoff now, before our witnesses. The lake and its tight valley boil with dragon-energy now, as this outspoken clan matriarch gives her Jarl a splitting earful.

He says nothing, only stares her down with impassivity like a boulder. At last, she snorts, gesturing to me. “Have you anything else to say, blood-daughter, before the Truthpoints of the Trial are chosen?”

“No. I’ve said all I need to say.” I raise my chin defiantly and think I see a twinkle of approval in the old matriarch’s eyes.

“Then this Council of Witnesses shall now deliberate,” the matriarch says with a nod, “and select the Truthpoints of the Trial, so it may begin.”

I don’t know what Bjorn, Strom, and I are in for, as our witnesses seal themselves into a massive bubble of silence, similar to what Trublut can do with his power. That bubble only goes around the rim of the lake; it doesn’t include me, Bjorn, Strom, our guards, or the Jarl and his honor guard as we wait on the surface of the ice below.

I feel it, however, as incredible power booms off the mountains and the glacial rocks ringing the tight vale, while our Magnussen Clan witnesses deliberate. At last, they come to some decision; the barrier of silence drops as the old drakaina turns back to us.

“The Truthpoints of the Trial have been chosen,” she croaks, as her gaze pins her Jarl. “As the Mouth of the Trial, I am ready to illuminate them.”

“Speak.” Jarl Oggi is short as he gives a frigid nod.

“The Truthpoints of the Trial are three.” The old drakaina’s gaze pins me, Strom, and Bjorn. “Truthpoint One: despite having a Blood Seal granting you passage, this assembly wishes to determine the truth—that hunting the Black Demon of Unhaemmerten is your trio’s mission from our King.”

“It is.” I stay firm, staring up at her.

“The Trial will determine that, young one. We are beyond your words now.” She gives a sad smile down at me, though something in her firm, no-bullshit manner bolsters me. “Truthpoint Two: this assembly wishes to know the truth—that you and your trio had nothing to do with the attacks on Maryse and her village, or anything else the Black Demon has done. Which brings us to Truthpoint Three: this assembly wishes the truth—that you and your trio are trying to stop and un-make or kill this heinous creature, rather than control it. And that the items you found in Unhaemmerten are not intended to bend the creature to your will—only to stop it, for good. The Truthpoints of the Trial have been spoken.”

“Thank you, Trialmouth.” The Jarl nods, though there is still no love lost between him and this old, outspoken drakaina. He turns to us, blistering Bjorn, Strom, and me with his gaze now, rather than the matriarch. “You have heard the Three Truthpoints of the Trial. Now that they have been chosen, the Trial will commence. It will not end until all three of you have been proven truthful. Or, all three of you are dead.”

“All three of us?” Bjorn blinks now, rage roaring through him like a thundercloud as he steps in before me, furious. “We have asked for three Trials of Truth, not one. By the ancient laws, you must provide it as such.”

“I must do nothing.” Jarl Oggi’s terrible gold-black eyes glitter now as he regards his son. “By our ancient laws, the Jarl may deem if bonded mates go through the Trial alone or not. I deem you three, since you all perpetrated this crime and were upon this mission together, to undergo the Trial as one, rather than separate. Fear not, my son. You will have your bonded powers back as a trio, to engage the Trial in full strength, as is your ancient right.”

“You’ve just given us a death sentence!” Bjorn snarls back, as everything inside him goes scaldingly livid. It’s something I can feel churning all through our truncated bond, unhinged now, though he only manifests a seething wind of red-gold Blood Magic in the bright midday.

“This is your Trial.” The Jarl is frigid as his gaze pins his son. “You risked my ire by coming here. Now face it, ungrateful whelp. And prove before this assembly that you are the dragon you say you are. With righteous Truth in your heart… or only cowardly lies.”

As Bjorn lunges at his father now, our guards surge in to wrangle him back. The Jarl’s honor guard step to protect him, but he merely waves them away.

Staring daggers at his son, as Bjorn is thrust to his knees upon the ice.

“Let the Trial begin. ”

As Bjorn seethes at his father, beyond rageful now, I suddenly get it. Bjorn is furious with his father because Jarl Oggi has reduced our chances of success from seven percent to practically nil by ruling for us all to perform the Trial as one.

Because if any of us has one false thought, when the Ancestors raze us to see if we’re telling the truth, we’re fucked. If any of us doubts, if we waver at all from what we believe our Truth to be, we’ve doomed not just ourselves but both our mates to death, as well.

This has just gone from a fucked situation to an incredibly fucked situation, as Bjorn roars at his father. But there’s no stopping the Trial, as our witnesses sit silent now, even the old drakaina, for things to continue.

Jarl Oggi shifts up into his massive, gold-black drake now, to cut the fuck out of us and see if we survive it.

Though he’s already done that, as we stand before him upon the ice.

Doomed.