It was too late for prayers or petitions. She was alone. Deserted. The others had fled, abandoning her at the first rumble like distant thunder.
Myfanwy gathered the last shreds of her courage and suppressed the shivers of fear. She couldn't run. Stout ropes bound her to the sacred oak. Shoulders back and her chin up, she waited for the approaching dragon. He would not see her terror. She would die with the courage befitting her father's daughter. But despite all her resolve, her mouth gaped and a soft gasp of surprise escaped her dry throat at her first sight of the ravager.
He stood upright, not crawling like a worm but standing erect and striding toward her like a man. But one look told her he was not a man. The dragon stopped a little more than an arm's length from where she waited, bound tight and terrified.
He was taller than her brothers and broader in the chest than her father and his pale gray skin gleamed in the twilight. He said nothing for several long minutes, just stood not quite close enough to touch her. He let his green eyes gaze from her face to her bare feet and back to meet her eyes, catching them with an intensity that made her shiver against her will.
"So," the dragon's voice was warm, rich, and as intoxicating as a tankard of aged mead, "you are the sacrifice prepared for me."
She held herself as tall as anyone could tied to a tree, and replied, "I am Myfanwy, daughter of--"
"Harwed Rees, the village chieftain," he finished for her, his strange wide gray lips curling in a twisted half-smile. "Could they find no other to offer me, that the chief's own daughter stands here? Or did your father think to placate me with his own offspring?"
Myfanwy suppressed a shudder. Willing herself to show no weakness to this terror, she let the rough trunk of the tree support her weakening legs. Not that she could have run if she'd chosen. They'd used the finest ropes the weavers could provide. The tight flax cut into her arms and thighs, chafing her waist through the thin shift that was all they had permitted her to wear. She was helpless, the next best thing to naked, and the scourge of the countryside stood an arm's length away.
The scourge of the countryside smiled, his mouth wide, his eyes almost twinkling. With what? Amusement at her plight? Anticipation of his next meal? The ridges over his eyes rose as his scaly forehead rippled. He cocked his head, waiting for her answer, enjoying her discomfort--or was he? His eyes seemed almost gentle as they met hers. Impossible! This was the worm who'd ravaged their crops and slaughtered the other maidens sacrificed to his ravening.
"You find me unsuitable, sir?"
That truly amused him. His eyes gleamed green as spring grass in sunshine as his wide lips creased into a broad smile. "No, sweet sacrifice, I find you most ... suitable ... for my purpose." Myfanwy shivered, imagining his purpose. "I just wonder why your father chose to honor me with his only daughter instead of some buxom peasant."
"I think that is partly your fault, sir."
"Mine? How so?" The ridges over his eyes rose with the surprise in his voice. "I've been blamed for pillage, disaster, and ravage of the countryside but it was your father who chose you and your brothers who lashed you to the sacrificial oak."
"Yes," she conceded, biting her lip as she remembered, half-wondering how he knew. Had he seen her brought out here? "But you let it be known you wanted ..." she hesitated, "a virgin."
He shrugged and rippled the great muscles beneath his gray skin. "And why not? The Dragon of Cader Bala takes no human's cast-off."
"Yes ... but when the word spread that you insisted on virgin tribute, most of the village maidens took pains to ensure they were no longer suitable for offering." The destroyer laughed. He threw back his great head with a wild dragon roar that had the birds in the trees deserting their roosts. As his laughter faded, he met her eyes and gave a soft chuckle that sent a warm shiver rippling across her skin. "So, my demands precipitated a great orgy. Though I doubt it was an onerous duty for the chosen swains."
Heart of the Raven by J. C. Wilder
Shivering in her threadbare shift and ragged fur wrap, Dani crouched beside the wheel of her family's wagon. Even with rags wrapped around her feet, her toes were numb. The weak winter sun had faded from the sky several hours earlier, veiling the landscape in icy darkness. She barely acknowledged the discomfort as she'd never known any different. Most of her life had been spent freezing in the winter and burning in the summer.
A few feet away was a small campfire around which crowded her traveling companions. Her father Con was a big brutish man with fists like rocks and a passion for ale. He sat on a tree stump, his clothing rumpled and dirty as he chugged from a jug of cheap Climerian ale.
His younger brother sat next to him. Rayben fancied himself a magician and sorcerer, one the likes of which the world had never seen, or so he said. That part was true at least, as no one had ever seen him actually use magic on anything. From what Dani had witnessed during their long years on the road his only talent was wenching and swilling ale with her father.
Two recent additions sat huddled around the fire across from her family. The strangers had joined them several days ago, shortly after Dani and her family had been chased from yet another town.
The tall blond one had introduced himself as Dar while the shorter, greasier one was called Knot. Dani wasn't sure if that was really his name or if the deformity on the side of his head caused people to make fun of him to the point that he believed it was his name.
Whatever the reason, Dani knew she wasn't coming out from behind the dubious sanctuary of the wagon wheel until they were long gone. Both men, upon seeing her, had immediately inquired as to the price of her services for a quick fuck. Luckily for her, Con hadn't been that drunk.
Yet.
Having been on the road most of her life, Dani was no innocent. The only reason her father kept her around was because he liked his food prepared for him. Con had sold her older sister, Nova, to another group of travelers like themselves many seasons ago. Her family had been down on their luck yet again and one of the men had offered a handsome sum. Con had turned over his oldest daughter with nary a backward glance.
Dani rubbed her skinny arms and wondered where Nova was now. Was she still alive? The life of a traveler was hard and for a woman ill-used it was short as well. Living outside under the stars, always stealing the necessities of life and fighting for every mouthful to be had--if Nova had been abandoned, her belly filled with a child?Dani shuddered. It was hard enough to scavenge enough food for one, let alone two, and a woman alone wasn't safe. For most men, it wouldn't matter if she were breeding or not if she was close at hand.
Dani propped her chin on her crossed arms. As long as she remained trapped with her father, she would always be in danger of suffering the same fate as Nova. Realizing this, she'd tried to escape several seasons ago only to be caught by Rayben a few days later. She shifted her foot and the large iron cuff and chain that bound her to the wagon clanked. Her father had stopped in the next town and had the ironsmith imprison his remaining daughter. Con had laughed when she'd told him why she'd run. He told her that Nova was beautiful and men desired her while Dani was as ugly as a boil. No man would ever want to bed her, let alone choose her as a lifemate.
She scowled at her father through the spokes of the wheels. She longed for a place to rest, where people would accept her. A place where she didn't have to fight for every morsel of food and a place to lay her head. To have someone to love her for who she was and, most of all, to make her own decisions about where she went and what she did. That was Dani's idea of real freedom.
Not everyone in the world traveled. There were quite a few settlements in the southlands where people lived and worked together to keep home and hearth intact. An overseer governed those privileged enough to live in such a settlement and those families didn't have to move like the travelers. They lived in cities surrounded by peaceful farmland. Even the poorest family had a small home, a plot of land, farm animals and enough food to eat. They didn't sleep in the mud and run from town to town one step ahead of the peacekeepers.
She'd been to one of those cities once. All had been welcome in Malian, even the travelers, as long as they abided by the rules of the overseer. The only time in her life she'd slept with a roof over her head was within the confines of that city. But that had been many years ago, before her mother had died when Dani was but a child.
After her mother's death, Con had gotten them kicked out of Malian. He, Rayben and Jod, the eldest brother who now languished in a Sladerian prison for murder, had been caught stealing horses from the overseer.
As long as Dani lived, she would never forget the night she'd been rousted from her warm bed and summarily tossed into the streets. Warriors of the overseer had towered over her, their gray uniforms emblazoned with the Malian emblem had made them look ten feet tall, as the impatient hooves of the horses had ground their meager possessions into the mud. Never would she forget how the mighty Malian warriors had looked at her as if she were trash--something distasteful to be swept forever out of sight. She and her family had been escorted to the city limits and forbidden to return.
Dani shuddered and drew her arms tighter around her knees. Even now, so many years later, she still suffered from occasional nightmares of that horrific night.
Ever since then they'd traveled from town to town, her father gambling and stealing what he could while Rayben concocted potions to cure ailments and performed slight of hand tricks that resulted in liberated gold coins from his victims. Her job was to cook the stolen food and forage when it was necessary. Lately it had been necessary more than not.
"Girl! Where are you, you lazy whore?"
Dani jumped at her father's strident tone. He never called her by name. It was always "Girl." Sometimes she wondered if he even remembered her name or that she was his flesh and blood.
She rose to her feet and shuffled around the wagon. The thick iron cuff on her ankle made walking slow. She'd padded the inside of the cuff with dried grasses to keep the chafing to a minimum, but the miniscule layer did little to save her skin from abuse.
"Yes?"
"'Bout time, you lazy wench." Con scooped up the dice and dropped them into a leather cup, jiggling it before tossing the dice into the dirt again. "Bring me another jug and be quick about it."
Dani reached into the wagon and pushed the heap of smelly blankets aside. As soon as the weather warmed, she'd have to wash the blankets and clothes. Until then they'd just have to stay dirty. It's not as if the men ever noticed anyway. She located a pottery flask of ale in the back of the wagon. With short mincing steps she walked to her father, doing her best to avoid Knot and Dar.
"'Bout time." He snatched the flask from her grip. "You're as slow as a Sladerian sloth and twice as ugly. Get out of my sight," he snarled. "I don't want to see your face before morn. Do ye hear, girl?"
Dani scrambled back toward the wagon, the chain hampering her, and she received a sharp pinch on her buttock that sent her stumbling. She shot Knot an evil glare as she made her way back to the wagon. Grabbing her meager bedroll from the back, she slipped under the wagon into the dubious safety offered between its wheels.
She unfolded a small grass mat and placed it on the cold, hard ground. Sitting up with her back against the wheel, she tucked her knees tightly to her chest as she wrapped a shabby blanket around herself. The blanket was too small and threadbare to do much but every little bit helped.
Weary, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The noise of the men around the fire slurping ale and expelling noxious gases from their back ends faded as another scene, a favored scene, took shape in her minds eye.
She sat at a massive dining table laden with every type of food imaginable. Stuffed pheasant, smoked fish, and freshly roasted fowl resided in massive troughs. Bowls of spring greens cooked with pork and onion sat next to a towering arrangement of fresh fruits. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. She was so hungry it was all she could do to not throw herself face first into the feast.
Dani reached out for a hunk of steaming hot bread and caught sight of her arm. Encrusted dirt turned her pale skin to a dark brown. Ashamed of her dirty clothes and body, she pulled her arm back as a hooded servant approached.
"No, miss. You cannot have any food until you submit."
She cocked her head. "Submit to what?"
"To him." He gestured behind her. "Submit to him and your heart will be full as well as your belly."
Dani turned to see a massive raven perched on a windowsill. Its intelligent black eyes regarded her for a moment, then its beak parted with a wild screech. She shivered, afraid yet curious at this new development. Why would the servant want her to submit to a bird?
As if the creature could read her thoughts, the raven flicked out its wings and beat them, creating small torrents of air that caressed her skin. As she watched, the tempo increased until the torrents pulled at her clothing and the earth trembled.
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