EXCERPTS

My Viking Bride
by
Luna Carrol

 Around 850 AD 

Alvilda smoothed down her long, sensible dress and pulled her gray fur up closer to her face. The winds off of the Baltic Sea were picking up and a fine mist told of rain approaching. She nearly closed her eyes against the silver glow of the horizon. Winter would be here soon.

There it was. The longboat could be seen on the horizon. It’s huge sail proudly displaying the colors of its country. She turned after a moment and walked back to the largest longhouse in the sea village. Passing through the tall wall made of erect wooden pikes, she continued to her father’s longhouse. The King of Gotland would want to know of the Dane’s arrival.

The village was a prosperous one. There were many longhouses, most large enough to support a smaller second story. Smoke rose from nearly all the wooden structures and children ran around the village with rosy cheeks and steamy air escaping their mouths. Yes, winter drew close and soon the children would find it hard to run freely in snow and ice.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she found most of the mid-day supper being cleared away and all, but a few of her father’s trusted men, were gone now. The warmth of the grand room was a welcomed feeling.

Her father stood near the hearth of the large fireplace directly behind the table. Alvilda knew her mother would be supervising some new project in the house now that the biggest meal of the day was over.

He was a large man, much like all the men of Gotland. Tall, fair skinned, barrel-chested, the same light red hair of his mother was nearly gray now. The same red-gold color now adorned Alvilda’s hair. He turned from speaking to another large man as she entered the room.

“He is nearly here, Da.” She looked from her father to the older man he’d been talking to and nodded slightly.

“So, the Danish prince comes to Gotland to marry what he cannot take.”

“Aethelgar, do you know this man to be like his father?” Olaf, the large man with Alvilda’s father had always been regarded as a wise counsel man.

Groa, Alvilda’s oldest friend, entered the hall from the back door. She stopped as she overheard their discussion. Vilda and Groa had been discussing the same topic in private since they learned of the Danes’ interest.

“All the Danes and Swedes are alike, Olaf.” Her father raised his voice.

He’d learned to hate the foreigners, just like his father had. War and plundering between the people of the Baltic was something that had happened for as long as anyone could remember.

“They take by deception and conniving. There isn’t a true man amongst them.” Aethelgar pulled his beard through his hands while looking at his only daughter. “This prince will not take my only daughter.”

Alvilda nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was to marry a Dane. A man that would take her from her people and be hated by those same people. No, she would do what she had to in order to avoid such a marriage.

“It will be a test then, Aethel?” Olaf often shortened Aethelgar’s name as he spoke.

“Yes. As it was with the others.”

Alvilda hated the tests. She was locked into the sea room. A special cave used for these tests. Located at the edge of the sea, the tide fed into the cave, encircling her. Beyond the water’s edge would be another trench. This trench, the first for any man to traverse, would be filled with vipers. Two vipers, said to be blessed by Loki himself because of their immense size. Almost as long as any good Viking boat, and nearly as thick.

Any man who could survive such vipers had only the icy waters of the Baltic Sea to cover. A task not so easy after one’s nerves and metal were tested by the snakes. The temperature of the water could cause a man to cramp and sink while shivering.

Vilda would be trapped in the room herself, in the very center, until the water washed back out, and being trapped at the water’s edge when the temperature dropped was nothing to relish. It could be day or night; since they had no way of predicting when the water would begin rising and it had to be deep enough to test a man.

The Seventh Legend
by
Mila Ramos 

 Chapter One 

Her skin tingled with an eerie awareness. The evil felt near. She would find him, it, soon…A beeping noise disturbed her concentration. Alana tapped the communications earpiece clipped to her ear. Her sister Maggie spoke volumes of warning, frustrating Alana in the process. Great timing, sis, Alana thought.

“Alana, you need to come back to the house.” Static followed the transmission.

 “I’ll be back momentarily. I just want to see if it is him,” she replied as the rain continued to pour.

 “Alana, it’s not him. You know it can’t be.”

 “I’m sure I know who the Viscount is, Maggie. Let me just check this out. I need to be positive.”

 “As your sister, I completely object to you walking into that club without proper backup. I’m sending Drew.”

Shaking her head, she scanned again. “And as your sister, I’m the one that’s been gifted. So I think I’ll be fine.”

 “Alana don’t --”

 “Cutting transmission,” she stated, as she touched her earpiece and continued her visual scan.

She sat perched high above the buildings still as the stone gargoyles. Rain steadily danced down onto the rooftops and streets of the city below while lightning lit the night sky. Varying tunes of water collecting in the building gutters changed as they ran down their gulley and spilled to puddles on the city streets. Cars sped down the street and threw water in every direction, adding more water to the already soaked walker-bys.

The world moved as normal; people crossed streets, entered and left cars, buildings and continued with their lives unaware of the lone figure above with roving eyes. None of the souls below interested her, though they should have. It was her job to take care of them and protect them. Yet, her focus went to finding a particular man.

She tuned her special vision onto the facial features of every passer. Alana scanned various eye colors, facial hair, no facial hair, but none proved to be the one she wanted. Born the seventh generation of Shadow Hunter, gifted with extraordinary abilities to detect a certain type of paranormal being, Alana accepted her skill. Though she adored her gifts and they made life somewhat tolerable, they did have their tolls. Easy wouldn’t be the word she used for the things she did. Duty, yes…family obligation, hell yes, but easy was an understatement. Her family had been protectors for a long time.

The Legends were hunters in search of the evil preying on humankind. Alana came from a family rich in the history. Her family spanned over thirteen generations, the first appearing in Egypt and then moving to Europe. Mauricio Legend, her grandfather told her, when she was a child, the Legends were once believed to be actual gods, but the books of genealogy were not open for common perusal. Alana only knew of the roots as far back as the 11^th century when the family name changed to Legend.

What she knew of her family was through those on her mother’s side; the Italian side. The Legend qualities were significantly prominent in the descending female born in the following generations. Those females with the Legend last name had the signature caramel tone complexion, full, sensual, pouty lips, and soulful, dark almond shaped eyes, and athletically toned bodies graced with poise and elegance.

Taken aside by her grandfather one day while her parents had gone to town, Alana wanted to know what made her family name so special He said that the actual story started on October 14, 1066, the Battle of Hastings. Norman troops defeated the English and killed King Harold, which opened the way for William to take the throne.

An English knight, Thomas Legend, received a terrible blow to the head during that battle. Though they were going to leave him for dead, when they checked again they realized he was very much alive. When they returned him to England, he healed and they sent him home. However, the story had it that’s when his troubles started. From the moment he awoke up, he sensed thoughts of those around him. Of course those times were so much different, so he thought he was possessed.

Thomas made many trips to various shrines in England, in hopes to be cured of the voices. None helped according to the tale. Getting enough of his personal items together he took a pilgrimage to Rome, Italy. There he met and fell in love with an Italian woman Isabella Medice, and received a papal blessing to wed. Shortly thereafter, he no longer heard the voices. For the first few years things went well; he was happily in love and he never heard anything out of the ordinary.

East Of The Moon
by
Bridghid Parkinson

“You are a vain and selfish creature, Balart!” The old hag screamed at the young prince, “You only see beauty in the coins you gather and the gems you prize!”

“Old woman, you make me ill. Be gone!” the prince said and he continued walking through the courtyard to meet the other royals for tea.

“I will leave you but not before you see the truth!” The air shimmered and before him stood a stunning young enchantress. “Your heart is as cold as ice and you cannot see the most beautiful aspects of people, even when they stand before your eyes. You will know how cold your heart is when you must search for love. You will live by day as a frosty polar bear, and at night, as a man. You must find a beautiful woman to love you for a year. At night you’ll live as a man but you cannot be seen and remain in darkness even when you love her, before the curse will be lifted. Heed my warning! You must not break my directives or you will come to my castle and live as my slave.”

The young prince transformed to a large polar bear immediately and he loudly lamented his lot but he did not understand the error of his ways. His father was enraged, but agreed that he should live with a tutor in the Enchanted Mountains of the North Country. There the young prince had the hope that they would live long enough to find a way to break the spell and free him of the enchantresses curse.

* * * *

By day, he was a bear, but when the darkness came, the young prince was restored to his human body. The enchantment of the mountains preserved his body and at night he lamented his loss. He didn’t age but he learned new wisdom from around the world.

The summers were miserable when the prince could do nothing but hide in a cool cave and take his lessons by candlelight at night. The winters were comfortable but it was necessary for the tutor to live with fires for warmth, which was not well tolerated by his bear aspects. As the years passed, he built around himself a beautiful fortress that might rival the castle of his original home but there was no one that he could speak with, save for his tutor. They worked with the magic in the Enchanted Mountains to sustain their lives and build a home around them.

There were many farmers on the North Country borders. The bear walked around the woods and spied many families living in poverty but they were happy. They had companionship with other families and they had each other. He saw that a crust of warm bread was a feast when shared in love and such a feast would rival the fine foods served by his father for other royal families. In those feasts, he often felt he was alone in a room full of people.

He found one farmer with six daughters. The youngest daughter of this farmer was indeed the most beautiful woman he had seen. She often went into the woods to collect water for her family, even in winter, when she only had ragged dresses and a cloak made of patched furs to protect her from the cold.

Since there were many dangerous creatures in the woods, the polar bear scouted often to make sure no harm would come to her. Many days she did not even know that any danger might have awaited her but he had driven away the ferocious wolves and crushed the snakes that might have harmed her.

One day, as she gathered the water, she stood at the edge of the river when he finally was brave enough to speak with her. He kept himself hidden in the trees as he said, “My dear lady, I am Balart. I wish you might do me the honor to tell me your name?”

“Who is there?” she demanded.

“My name is Balart. I must hide. Do not seek me out, please,” he begged.

“What do you want of me?”

“I only wish to talk.”

“You do not wish to harm me?” she asked.

“No, I have food in my home, but not a lovely companion. I wish only to talk.”

She thought about this for a moment, standing with her buckets balanced on the beam across her shoulders and the shaggy cloak of furs hanging to the ground.

Balart thought she might run away.

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