The Dragon's Redemption

Chapter 1 Long Ships

 Faroe Islands 793AD

It was a beautiful morning in early summer. The cloudless blue sky glowing red and yellow around the sun on the horizon as Brieanna sat at the cliff edge watching the sun rise. The heavy morning mist had been burnt off and she could see far out to sea. She had left her village very early, before the sun began its course across the sky. This was her favorite time of day and her favorite spot. She loved the feel of the sea breeze as it blew through her long platinum blond hair, caressing her face and occasionally whistling in her ear. Her thick hair glowed like a unicorn's mane in the sunlight, silvery and metallic as it reflected the light. The sea birds that nested along the cliffs were flying about, oblivious to her presence as she sat and sang her song to the morning sun. The puffins and guillemots adding their own song. She had small reed flute that she had made herself from several reeds, and she played that too as she sat. She relished her alone time away from the village. No one to laugh at her limping gate, or her pointed small elf like ears. No one to comment on her long association with Abigail the village witch. No one to criticize her songs or her tunings on her reed pipe. No one to chastise her for being a marginally productive thrall. She sat quietly dreading the long walk back. Her damaged left knee was throbbing in pain from her morning walk. She had her walking cane with her, the cane handhold carved to resemble a dragon. Sam had given it to her two years ago when she had just turned fifteen, and he was newly arrived in the village. She smiled to herself as she remembered how he had blushed when she kissed his cheek in gratitude. Except for Abigail, Sam was the only other person to treat her as normal person and not the crippled girl everyone else saw.

The sun continued to warm the air and Brieanna decided that she would bathe in the pool hidden in the grove of trees near buy. Using her cane as leverage she rose to her feet. She could barely put weight on her left leg as she started to walk. But walking actually diminished the pain, and gradually her limping improved, and her gate retained only the slightest hint of a limp. Disrobing at the side of the pool, she entered the warm water and soaked. She had a towel and soap in the small canvas backpack she always carried on her morning walks. She washed her hair and scrubbed herself. She looked carefully at the small purple birthmark on the side of her left shoulder. It did resemble a dragon she mused as she lathered herself with the lavender scented soap. She had to be quick as she needed to be back at the village to begin the morning meal preparation. She dressed quickly in her long well-worn dress of undyed homespun, and combed out her hair. Her dress was overly large, and poorly fitted hiding her trim athletic figure. It easily slipped off one of her shoulders. She tightened the draw string around her neck to secure the dress. She often wished she could keep it loose like the other village girls, who frequently bared one or both shoulders. But to do so would expose her tiny birthmark, and open her to further unwanted scrutiny. Once her hair was nearly dry, she braided it, and using her cane began the long trek back to the village. She would need to put her hair up before she entered the village as thralls were not allowed to have their hair lower than their slave collar. She was grateful that her master Oother allowed her to leave it uncut if she kept it up. Someday she dreamed she would let her hair down and wear a simple silver glit circlet on her head like the yeomen maidens.

She walked to the cliff face for one more look at the sun and sea. Brieanna gasped as her eyes swept the horizon. She could see the brightly colored sails of a large number of ships as they rounded the headland. She recognized the ships at once. Vikings were approaching and would land in the tiny harbor on her island in hours. She turned and began her return to the village. She scolded herself for venturing out without shoes. Between her aching knee and her bare feet on rocky ground her progress was agonizingly slow. She started shouting, "Vikings...Vikings!" long before she was within hearing range hoping to raise the alarm. She realized the Vikings would not spare her a valueless cripple, but at least some of her village would make it to the hidden caves if notified in time, and survive the fury of the Bezerkers. She prayed that her death would be swift, and not the prolonged torture the Bezerkers were infamous for inflicting on helpless captive women. She was panting from exertion as she increased her pace and her throat was sore as she tasted blood from her screaming the alarm. Then she collapsed as she tripped on a thick root in the cattle trail, no longer capable of additional progress. In frustration and terror Brieanna wept as she lay helpless on the ground alone, and far from her village.