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  “Are you trying to say the Earth is round?”

  “That is exactly what I am saying.”

  She narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Up until now did I think your intelligence unsurpassed.”

  “‘Tis round, I assure you.”

  “Then I would not boast that to too many people if I were you.”

  Dægan let his mouth fall open. “You believe me not?”

  “Indeed,” she said, nodding incessantly.

  Dægan stood up and began searching the ground. “Very well, I shall prove it to you.”

  “How?”

  “Patience, princess,” he crooned as he searched. “Here. This will do.” He bent over to pick up a round stone as large as his head and held it up proudly.

  Mara turned her mouth under and smoothed the ground beside her. “Sorry, still flat.”

  “I am not finished. Next I shall need a fire.”

  “That should prove even more difficult in this weather.”

  “What little faith you have, love,” he expelled, shaking his head at her constant doubt. Just for that, he tore the hide from his waist and retrieved his wet kirtle in the nude, reasoning a tit-for-tat logic for the sarcasm she had chosen to spit forth. Her sudden gasp was priceless, trading not a bit of it for the chiding that followed.

  “You could have at least told me you were going to do that!”

  “Why? And miss that look upon your face?”

  After dressing and securing his belt and sword at his waist, he resaddled the horse and stuffed her wet gown in a pouch on the side.

  “What are you doing?” Mara asked.

  “I am going to get us something to eat, something for which to build a fire, and before the night is over, prove to you the earth is round.”

  “With my gown?”

  He smiled. “Indeed. I am making certain you stay here. Is that enough? Or must I take the hide and cloak from your possession as well?”

  “You wouldn’t,” she said without thinking.

  Dægan raised his brow as he pulled a battle ax from his cantle. “I am going to ignore that you just dared me. Tell me you will be here when I return. Remember that I am taking the horse and weapons, too. You will have naught but the hide on your back. And if you leave, I cannot protect you. Tell me I have nothing to worry about, woman. I beg you.”

  Mara truly had no desire to venture outside the cave in that downpour or try to escape from his company like he so feared. Strangely enough, she too, was looking forward to his return, and not just to bear witness to his unlikely proof of a round earth. She was enjoying him to the fullest and desired more of her strange hero’s company. “You needn’t worry. I promise.”

  Evidently satisfied with her answer, he came to her on bended knee, reached up into the hide for her hand and placed a kiss upon the top of it. His lips were warm and soft, pressing gently at her knuckles and lingering even after he left.

  ****

  Dægan returned much quicker than Mara had expected, with a line of pike in his hand and two great logs dragging behind his horse. Despite being completely saturated with rain, his smile filled his entire face as he learned she was still in the cavern.

  She stood to help him with the astonishing amount of provisions he was able to acquire with such limited resources. “How did you—”

  “I doubt your servants in your father’s great keep ever failed to bring forth your dinner on account of rain. And neither do I,” he said with a firm dismount. “But think not for one moment that I am your thrall. Which would you prefer to do?” he asked extending both the ax and dagger for her choosing. “Filet the fish, or cut the wood for kindling?”

  She looked at him oddly. “I have never done either.”

  “Then today is your most fortunate day.”

  Dægan buried the battle ax in one of the logs and then grabbed her left hand, slapping the handle of the knife in it.

  “But I—”

  “Afraid of getting our hands a little dirty, are we?”

  “Nay, but—“

  “Hush, girl,” he said, spinning her into his arms, her back against his chest. “I will gladly show you how.” He snaked his arms under hers, sliding his hands down her forearms to the blade, and gently opened her constricted fingers from the handle, taking the dagger into his own hands.

  “Beautiful is it not? My uncle made it for me. Look how the gold and silver intertwine together. See how they twist and turn, drawing your eyes first to the contrast of their colors, but then eventually on the partnership they serve as they wrap around each other in blended beauty. And not to say that silver and gold are best only together, but there is nothing distasteful or frightening about their congruent existence. ‘Tis a stunning piece of artisan talent, would you not say?”

  Her breath was caught deep within her lungs as he remained close for quite a long time, not the kind of instruction she would think necessary to learn the skills of filleting a fish. But she liked it—loved it, actually. The sinewy flesh of his arms rested on hers and his chest rose and fell against her back with the rhythm of his slow breathing. His wet hair tickled her bare shoulders and his breath seared through her as easily as a hot coals in butter.

  “Now to begin, you must forget all you think you know about weapons and hold this knife with a gentle, yet steady hand, as opposed to the steel grip you had just before. Then find a good smooth rock to lay the fish upon, hold it by the tail, and skim the blade just below the layer of scales with one long stroke. Do so until all the scales are removed, but be careful not to go too deep or you will cut away the meat right with it. Understand?”

  She took a deep breath. “I think so.”

  “Good.”

  “What about its head?” she asked, scrunching her nose in disgust.

  Dægan released her and gave her backside one solid swat as he walked away. “Chop it off.”

  Chapter Six

  Mara sat at the fire, sharing a meal with the most unlikely dinner companion—not only for whom Dægan was, but for what he had resorted to wearing. Sure, she too, was garbed in nothing but animal pelts, but his was solely at his waist again, laying bare that well-toned chest. It was not the most proper of attire, Mara noted, but alternatively she didn’t seem to mind as he was certainly a sight to behold.

  “How is your fish?” he asked.

  “‘Tis edible,” Mara joked.

  “Only edible?”

  “Hmm…’tis missing something…”

  “Oh, that hurts!” he whimpered holding his hand to his heart and pretending to feel an agonizing pain from her heckling. “She not only throws a wicked dagger, but pours salt into the wound as well.”

  “Ah, ’tis salt that is missing!”

  Dægan playfully threw a fish bone at her. “You ungrateful woman! And you think you deserve to know what knowledge I have of a round Earth?”

  Mara took her last bite of meat and succumbed into giving a witless apology.

  “I am afraid you will have to do better than that, my dear.”

  Mara rolled her eyes and dragged her words in a pitiful whine. “Please tell me what you know. Let me not go another day foolishly thinking the Earth is flat.”

  He stood, rolling his eyes at her whimsical ridiculing. “All right, that will be quite enough. Your behavior here merits not my knowledge, but I shall give it just the same.” He collected the things he’d need for his lesson, using a stick and a cut piece of hide to form a makeshift torch. Gleaming with excitement, he returned saying, “I need you to open your mind.”

  “Open my mind,” Mara repeated.

  “Aye. Open your mind to things beyond your eyes. We often times only believe in things we can see, and since we cannot fly on bird’s wings and reach a height high enough to verify the possibility of a round Earth, we must use what we have and what we already know.” Dægan shoved the round rock with the bottom of his boot until it rested beside her. “As I am sure you have already guessed, the rock will serve as the Earth and this,”
he said lighting the stick in the fire, “will be the sun. You follow me so far?”

  “Aye,” she said, eagerly looking up at him.

  “Good. Now I want you to imagine the purpose of the sun. As you know it gives us both warmth and light just as our fires do, but obviously on a grander scale.” He knelt in front of her and handed her the small torch. “You be the sun.”

  She took the stick from his hand. “And you are going to be the absurdly round Earth, I presume.”

  Dægan’s eyes sparkled with color as he smiled. “Aye, I am.” He lifted the rock to her eye level, balancing its heavy weight with one hand. “All right. Now bring the torch closer to the rock. Good. Right there.” He looked at her deeply. “What do you see?”

  She fluttered her lashes. “What should I see?”

  “Look at the rock. Where is the light concentrated?”

  Mara examined the firelight’s path on the stone. “Well, I see the light is brighter in the center.”

  “Which explains why in the north ‘tis colder. In my homeland of Hladir, the winters are very harsh and our summers are cool. But in our journeys, the further south we sailed, the warmer the heat of the sun.”

  “Changing seasons do warrant a change in temperature, Dægan.”

  “You are correct. But we have traveled many a distance, more than most men can sum in their lifetime, and we have found southern lands where the change of seasonal temperature is minimal. And the air is hot, almost every day, no matter what season.”

  “Every day?”

  Dægan tapped her forehead with his finger. “Your mind is closed. Open it and listen to me. I have been there myself. I have seen the strange terrain and the native people of the land who wear not much clothing because of the immense heat. The rains are scarce and the ground is dry. There is not much that can propagate there and thus no reason for me to have stayed much more than a sennight. But I assure you, my father did. For more than five years he continually traded with these people for spices, silks, and wines. So when he said the temperature hardly changed, no matter what day ‘twas, I believed him. He explained it all to me in this very same manner, except he used an apple in place of the stone.”

  Mara became intrigued. “If the Earth is truly round, where are we right now in relationship to the rock?”

  Dægan liked her question. With his free hand, he pointed several inches above the middle. “Perhaps, here.”

  “And your homeland?”

  He pointed further up the rock. “Here.”

  Mara pondered the actual distances he had traveled in his life and couldn’t imagine such adventures, nor the dangers that went along with it. How could any man get aboard a vulnerable ship, knowing the possibility of a volatile sea was waiting, as well as a likely hostile front of local natives? It wasn’t bravery. It was foolishness. But in her mind’s eye she realized she was doing exactly the same thing, in the same manner as he, by braving the elements of danger without knowing what would lie ahead.

  Despite their amiable relationship, Dægan was still a stranger. A man she was putting full faith in to get her home, only by the covenant of his word.

  Dægan set the stone down. “What is wrong?”

  Mara sighed and tossed the torch into the fire. “I know my fears may seem diminished, if not completely gone, especially since the way I have behaved here lately—laughing, smiling, making conversation like you are a friend. But I am afraid. Not necessarily of you,” she amended. “But of the unknown. Of never returning. Of never seeing my father again. Surely you can understand that.”

  Dægan sat upon the rock and took his time replying. “I can.”

  “Then can you not sympathize with what you are putting me through? I want to be home. Regardless that I have enjoyed the last few hours with you, I want to go home. I want to be within the confines of my father’s keep where prowling danger cannot get to me.”

  “Then you surely have a strange way of showing it by sneaking out of that confining keep and riding half a league away to the Loch Rí on sprinting horseback.”

  “I enjoy the river.”

  “You enjoy the freedom. The sun on your face and the wind in your hair. You cannot get that behind fortified walls of earth and wood. I would say even your mother knew that.”

  Mara’s heart sank. “Speak not as though you know her.”

  “I know enough about kings to know your father was unaware of her travels so far from the security of his palisade. And until yesterday, he knew not of yours. I can understand your reasons for going to the river, but what were your mother’s?”

  “Why must you speak ill of her?”

  “I have not spoken ill of anyone. I only inquired about your mother’s reasons for venturing from safety. Perhaps, she was waiting for someone.”

  Mara’s eyes flared with anger. “There was no one else! My father loved her very much.”

  “I doubt not his love. But did she love him?”

  Mara slapped his face. “Now you speak ill of her! Enough!”

  ****

  Dægan touched his cheek where the sting of her hand still tingled. “Conceivably, that was ill. Forgive me. But I still believe she wanted something more than just a passing moment at the water’s edge. And I know there is a large part of you, no matter how much you deny it, that longs for the same. I saw it in your eyes. And I can give you that. I want to give you that. If you like the river as much as you say you do, then you will love the sea. You will love seeing your homeland from the distant bows of a ship where the meadow’s flowery arms wave in polite parting and the hills stand up to bid you farewell. ‘Tis like nothing you have ever seen. Come with me. Let me take you on the sea and show you what true freedom is.”

  “But my father—”

  “Mara, listen to me,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I am not trying to avoid taking you back home or prolong making amends with your father. I promised you I would and I have never broken a promise in my life. I need a great number of men, just in case we are confronted by the others and it takes a while to move a sizable army. So, while we wait in Luimneach, let me share with you what has been my whole life. I have seen your world, Mara. Let me show you mine. If only for one day, please let me. One time on the ocean. Think about it. One time to be something else in your life.”

  “But I know not the first thing about voyages, and sails, and…”

  “You will be a guest upon my langskip. Not a finger shall you raise. Your presence will be a blessing to me, if not a welcome sight for my men.”

  Dægan saw the panic of that very idea strip the color from her face. “Fret not. These men follow my commands. Some have bled for me and I trust them with my life. You will be fine amongst them. ‘Tis my brother that you should watch though,” he joked. “He is quite the charmer.”

  Mara raised a single brow to his claim. “More so than you?”

  “Aye, but not as good looking,” Dægan said with a wink. He stood and stretched out both a big smile and a hand to her. “So what say you? When the rain ceases, will you grant me one day? One day in my world?”

  Mara looked first at the spread of fingers from his sturdy palm before finally placing her hand in his. “One day, is it? And then we go to my father?”

  Dægan lifted her to stand and humbly bowed before her. “With not a moment to spare.”

  ****

  Mara barely agreed with his request when a lingering shadow of regret hovered above her head. As much as he was becoming a familiar sort of man in her life, someone whose word and charm made the notion of him being a long-standing enemy virtually senseless, she still couldn’t help but think that her choices were blind, if not reckless. What scared her more, was knowing that deep in her heart she would have probably followed him anywhere, even before he made his promise.

  Chapter Seven

  The day had passed long into the night with the rain still dumping from the sky. Dægan had kept the fire going with the large pile of wood he had split earlier, and with
the blazing heat, their clothes—hung nearby—were finally dry. And in perfect time as they were both ready to settle down for the night.

  Mara had never been happier to put her clothes—though tattered—back on, feeling to some extent, more comfortable in a dirty tunic than in the animal pelts Dægan had resourcefully provided. The fire between them also helped Mara find a much needed sense of decency.

  For the first time since the morning, it was quiet, and not because they had run out of things to say to each other, but because they had found their own thoughts. Mara was lying with her back to the fire, thinking of her father and what pain he was in, hoping he was able to find sleep. She gathered that he probably hadn’t and was more likely still searching for her through the damnable rain. Would he even come to understand what she was doing? Would he forgive her for putting him through this, and by the same token, would he condemn Dægan? Surely, her father would listen to her and not punish her rescuer. He wasn’t that merciless. Or was he?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the bad and replacing it with the pleasure of other things, like Dægan, who was lying a close distance from her. She knew he was awake, probably waiting for her to roll over so that he could hold her glance with his wondrous eyes.

  Ah…those eyes… They were as mesmerizing as a falling star in the noon of night and hard to forget even when she wasn’t lost in a daydream. But it wasn’t right to think of him that way, to have even the slightest yearning for him. She would only make it harder on herself, for she knew her father would surely step between them. And for the sake of her heart, it was best to put whatever joy and fondness she had for him out of her mind.

  In her vain efforts to forget, she heard a sound—a distant rustling from outside the cavern. Just a scavenger animal, she told herself. But in this rain?

  A hardened palm forcefully rolled her to her back and another covered her mouth, quieting her from calling out. It was Dægan, his dagger in hand. The blade reflected an evil shine from the fire, and his eyes were stern and gravely serious. He brought a finger to his own lips, demanding her absolute silence, and then pointed outside.