Annoure tightened her hands on her horse's reins and peered into the dark forest, frightened to enter it alone, yet she knew this might be her only opportunity to explore the ancient Celtic oak grove. She drew in a deep breath of late summer air, inhaling the scent of dry leaves, and the kicked her heels into Starlight's flanks. The stallion trotted forward, weaving his way through silver birch, elms and Scot pines. The predawn light barely penetrated the thick canopy of leaves, making it hard to see.
    An owl swooped by, startling Annoure, and she glanced around uneasily. The wind moaned through the trees. She missed her guardian's solid presence, though she'd deliberately slipped out of the castle before he'd awakened. He'd never have allowed her to come here.
    Before long, she found the grove, a stand of massive oaks. She'd discovered it when out riding with her brother Cedric. They'd both recognized it as an ancient place of worship for the now nearly extinct Druids. Cedric had said the place was evil and they should leave, but she'd felt drawn to it and decided to come back on her own.
    Annoure slipped off Starlight and her jeweled Celtic cross thumped against her bosom. A guilty feeling tightened her stomach, her father and the priests wouldn't approve of her interest in the Druids. Her discomfort quickly disappeared as she became absorbed in her surroundings. Enormous oaks towered overhead and moss, twisted twigs, acorns, and leaves covered the ground. Arcane power pulsed in the air. What ceremonies had been performed here? She poured some water from her flask onto the ground in honor of the Celtic gods, half-expecting them to appear.
    The sound of running water led her to a brook that emptied into a pool. Energy swirled around the water, and she knelt, gazing into the mirror-like surface. At first, she saw only her own reflection, but as she slid deeper into a trance-like state, an image of her grandmother appeared. The Druidess sat by a fire, wearing a blue gown trimmed in gold. Her black hair, highlighted by silver streaks, hung to her waist. She paused in her spinning and sat poised, her head cocked. Then her dark, intelligent eyes focused on Annoure. "Be careful, Granddaughter."
    "Of what?" Annoure whispered.
    "The dragon."
    The wind blew across the water, rippling its surface and the image disappeared. "Grandmother come back! What do you mean by the dragon?" The fine hairs on the nape of Annoure's neck rose as she thought of hers dreams of the man with flaxen colored hair, vivid blue eyes the color of the sea, and dragon tattoos on his sculptured arms.
    The wind increased in intensity, and Annoure wrapped her cape tighter around her slender body, knowing her grandmother's image wouldn't reappear in the now rough water.
    Annoure spotted the vine-covered opening of a cave, and she peered into its ink black interior, wondering if the Druids had used the cave. She stepped inside and a spider web stuck to her face. Grimacing, she wiped it off. A small creature flew past her head and she spun around as more of the creatures soared by. Bats! With her hands in front of her, she slid her foot forward. A chill went through her, as dark power beat against her. Her toe struck a hard object that rolled out of the cave. When she followed it out, she discovered it was a human skull. She made the sign of the cross. Was the skull the remains of a sacrificed enemy of the Druids?
    Thunder rumbled followed by a flash of lightning. She lifted her skirt, ran to Starlight and tried to mount, but the horse jerked away. "You feel the magic, too, don't you, Starlight," she said, scratching the horse behind the ears. "We need to get home before the storm breaks." Annoure slid her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the horse's wide back, then made a clicking sound and the horse started forward.
    The sky darkened rapidly as the clouds thickened, blocking the rising sun. She shivered in the cool, damp air and pulled her wimple over her head. The horse started trotting through the forest. A fallen tree lay across his path and Annoure guided him around it, with the unsettling feeling that she was being watched.
    A fox ran in front of the stallion and he reared. Annoure squeezed her knees against the horse's back and tightened her grip on the reins as she struggled to stay on. The stallion's hooves thundered back onto the ground and she quickly brought him under control. She gave a short laugh of pleasure that she'd been able to handle her brother's horse. He had insisted the stallion was too wild for her to ride.
    The horse cantered through the trees and soon reached the trail. Relieved to be out of the woods, Annoure guided Starlight along the path until she came to a hill that overlooked the small River Don where it emptied into the much larger River Tyne. Movement on the Tyne caught her attention. She gasped as a serpent head appeared out of the misty water. As the beast grew closer, it turned into a carving on the upper prow of a ship. More beasts emerged out of the thick fog, moving toward the mouth of the Don. The artistically lined ships were raised at the prow and stern and rode high on the water.
    As the lead ship neared the shoreline across the river, the men lowered the sail and began to row. The ship landed at the edge of the woods, near the mouth of the Don. The men lowered a gangplank and ran across it. They wore leather helmets and armor, and carried bows, swords, axes, and shields. Four more ships landed beside the first.
    Annoure's stomach twisted into a knot. They clearly had not come in friendly trade; she wanted to race straight for home, but she needed to warn her people first.
    One of the men spotted her and raised his bow. She ducked and an arrow whistled over her back and struck the tree right behind her. "Go Starlight!" she yelled. The horse stretched out its long legs and galloped down the path. They raced by the village of Jarrow, perched along the shoreline of the River Don. The scene revealed wattle and daub houses with thatched roofs and fences made of twisted sticks to enclose gardens and farm animals. A rooster crowed setting off a chorus of other roosters. Annoure didn't see anyone up yet, so she rode on to St. Paul's church. She crouched low on Starlight's back, clinging frantically as the wind blew her wimple onto her shoulders and ripped her hair out of its fastenings. The horse's hooves thundered along the ground and the trees flew by in a blur as the horse galloped faster and faster, its muscular body heaving and sweating under her.
    Soon the twin monasteries and hundred-year-old stone church came into view. She sailed through the orchard of apple, pear and plum trees. A few early-rising monks worked in the garden. They glanced up in astonishment as she hurled by, the horse's hoofs kicking up dust. She rode straight to the Jarrow monastery and pulled on the reins. Starlight slowed and she slid off and tore inside the monastery. "Father Eian!" she called bursting into his chamber and panting for breath.
    Startled, Father Eian blotted the ink on the elaborate page he was laboriously working on. He scowled in disapproval. "Look what you have caused me to do, child!" he said in Frankish, the language of the Nobility.
    "Father, there are —"
    "Calm down, Annoure. You are fifteen, a women now, and too old to be rushing around like a peasant child and why—"
    "Five Dragonships have landed near the mouth of the Don!"
    His wrinkled face paled. "Have they come in trade?"
    "No, they carried weapons. They could be the same men who ransacked Lindisfarne last winter. You must ring the warning bell."
    He rose stiffly, a frown deepened the grooves on his forehead. He ran a hand through his white hair and stood hunched over, frail under his monk's robe. Annoure wanted to urge him to move faster. The Norsemen would be upon them shortly.
    A monk stepped into the room. "Excuse me for bothering you, Brother Eian, but we feared something was wrong when we saw Lady Annoure galloping to the monastery."
    "Go ring the warning bell," Father Eian replied. "The Norsemen are attacking. Have the monks gather everything of value and carry what they can to safety." The monk turned toward the doorway. "Don't forget the books. The heathens will burn them or steal them for their jewels." The priest lifted the large Bible from his desk. "Come, Lady Annoure, we'll save what we can."
    As they left the monastery, the warning bell began ringing. Once inside the church, Father Eian shuffled to the altar. He put a Bible, a wine chalice, silver candlesticks, and other valuables into a velvet bag, then handed it to Annoure. He reverently lifted the stone cross, chiseled with twisted vines and birds, from the altar and hoisted it over his shoulder.
    Loud male voices roared in the courtyard, yelling Odin! Odin! Odin! accompanied by a horrendous banging sound. Icy with fear, Annoure gazed transfixed out the window and saw a horde of Norsemen running toward the monasteries and hammering their swords against their shields.
    "Hurry!" Father Eian exclaimed. "This way!" He slid out the narrow door near the altar.
    Footsteps sounded at the door, and Annoure whipped around to see a ferocious Norseman in the doorway. His tall form darkened the chapel as if Satan himself had entered the church. A leather helmet covered his hair, he clutched a large broadsword and shield, and his cape swirled around him. When their eyes locked, Annoure couldn't breathe and her legs wobbled. She felt like the rabbit cornered by a large dog.
    He strode into the room followed by two more Norsemen. One swung a battle-axe and the other a bow nearly the length of his body. Annoure felt their blood lust like a strong wind roaring into the quiet church.
    Annoure fled out the altar door and followed the priest through the back of the church. They reached an outside door and together they pushed it open. Annoure heard footsteps pounding on the stone behind her and glanced back. The Norsemen had nearly reached them. She leapt through the doorway and her heavy bag slammed against her legs. Outside, cool rainwater beat down on her face and hair. She ran after the priest along the slippery rock pathway that led through the church courtyard. Smoke and flames rose from burning buildings all around her. The air rang with shouts and the sound of weapons clashing against one another.
    A warrior grabbed the back of Annoure's bodice and she screamed in terror. She whipped her bag at him and broke his hold. He lunged; she tried to dodge, lost her balance and fell to the wet ground with him on top of her. Water soaked through the front of her dress. She rolled onto her back and pounded her fists into his chest, yelling for help. Father Eian swung around and grabbed his arm. One of the other Norsemen sliced his blade across the priest's throat.
    "No!" Annoure screamed as the old man collapsed to the ground beside her. The Norsemen who'd killed the priest grabbed the cross, and triumphantly held it over his head, a savage grin on his face. The man's iron helmet looked like a sinister mask with holes for the eyes and a nose-guard.
    Annoure's captor sprung to his feet and drew his sword as a townsman rushed at him swinging a rake. The Norsemen sliced his sword through the man's wooden rake handle, then slashed the blade across the man's chest. The farmer backed away, screaming in agony. The warrior heaved the bag of relics over his shoulder, seized Annoure's arm, and pulled her upright. Around them, the Norsemen battled both soldiers armed with swords and villagers armed only with farm implements.
    Annoure stumbled along beside her captor, numb with shock. Near the monastery of Wearmouth, butchered monks lay dead or dying on the ground, their red blood blending with the water on the rain soaked earth. A few feet from her, a wounded boy moaned for water. His torso was slit open from neck to waist. A wave of nausea swept through Annoure. She was sure the huge Norsemen were inhuman demons.
    The Norsemen began torching the farm sheds and Annoure started coughing as she breathed in smoke. Brother Daniel ran out of a burning hut covered in flames and a warrior swung up his bow and arrow, and fired. The monk stood still-- his eyes widened in shock, an arrow protruding from his chest-- then collapsed on the ground. "Brother Daniel," Annoure gasped. She dug her feet into the ground and tried to pull her wrist out of the Norseman's fist as he yanked her forward. She began screaming hysterically and the Norsemen clamped a hand over her mouth. Annoure felt trapped in a horrible nightmare.
    Her heart speeded up as they approached the anchored ships on shore of the River Tyne. She had to escape before the ships set out for sea. The Norseman pulled her across a gangplank and to the center area of the ship. "Stay!" he demanded in Anglo-Saxon. Leaving her there, he strode over to a trunk on the port side of the ship and thrust the leather bag of church relics into it, then began helping the other men load stolen goods onto the ship. Men pressed in all around Annoure as they stashed their booty in trunks.
    On the other dragonships, Norsemen dragged their captives and loot onto the decks. Rain continued to pour down on Annoure, drenching her clothes and running down her back. A warrior hauled a boy over to where she stood and dumped him onto the floor. The child splashed into a puddle that had formed on the bottom on the ship, and lay there moaning. Blood flowed from a gash on the child's forehead.
    "You're hurt!" Annoure exclaimed, squatting beside him. She put an arm under his thin shoulders and helped him sit, then used the edge of her skirt to wipe the blood off. The wound wasn't too deep, but a purple lump had begun to form.
    Another Norsemen hauled Brother Tondbent over to them and left him there.
    An iron-helmeted warrior with a bushy beard shouted orders. Galvanized into action, the warriors hurried to the trunks that lined both sides of the ship and began to row. Annoure rose and looked frantically around for means of escape as the ship glided down the wide, storm-rough River Tyne, following two of the other dragonships. Annoure counted fifteen rowers on each side of the ship, other men stood or sat in the center area. On shore, their comrades loaded the last two ships while fighting off townsmen and soldiers. A Northumbrian farmer jumped onto one of the ships and swung his axe repeatedly into the rudder on the side of the ship. A Norsemen thrust his sword into the man's back.
    A wave of nausea overcame Annoure at the sight and she crumpled to the deck and retched.
    "Annoure!" Father Tondbent exclaimed. "Cearl," he said addressing the boy. "Untie me so I can attend to Lady Annoure."
    Annoure shoved her tresses out of her face and raised her aching head to look at the young monk. "I'm all right. Cearl's been hurt. Let me untie you." She moved to the monk and worked at the rope knots binding the monk's hand behind his back. Her hands shook. How many of her people had been captured or killed? Would she ever see her family again?
    Overhead the sky grew darker and the rain increased in intensity. Waves splashed over the side of the ship and on the deck water sloshed from side to side.
    Annoure freed the priest's wrists. "What will they do to us?" she asked Brother Tondbent in a strangled whisper. She shuddered as her fear descended over her like a heavy shroud.
    The monk put a comforting hand on her arm, his eyes filled with anguish. "We're probably going to be sold as slaves. Let us pray to Christ our Lord to give us strength to endure our fate." He knelt in the water with his head lowered and raised his hands in prayer.
    "Slaves! Isn't there a chance we will be ransomed?"
    "No one was ransomed from the raid on Lindisfarne."
    Annoure glanced around for means of escape. Their ship was still being rowed, but the two ships, further out in the river, had raised their sails-- soon theirs would do the same. She stood and braced her legs to keep her balance, then tugged off her wimple and cape. She placed the cape over the monk's shoulders and said, "May Christ protect you."
    The ship was moving quickly away from land, but she was sure she could still reach shore. None of the Norsemen were paying any attention to her. She jumped onto a trunk, just behind a rower, and vaulted over the side of the ship. A man shouted and grabbed her skirt. The fabric slipped out of his hand as she fell toward the water. Her body tingled when the cold, churning water closed in around her and she sunk into its embrace. Her waterlogged wool dress dragged her down and she desperately paddled her way back to the surface. She gasped air and water sprayed into her mouth and she began coughing and choking.
    The ship had kept moving away. Bobbing up and down with the waves, she yanked her water-heavy dress over her head, so she could swim better. Then she swam for shore in her petticoat.
    Large waves tossed her about in the turbulent water, but she concentrated on the goal of reaching shore. Her arms and legs soon ached from the effort and she began shaking with cold. Overcome with exhaustion, she rolled onto her back and floated a few moments, then started to swim again, afraid of drowning.
    The shore was further than she'd realized and before long her strength began to fail. A large wave engulfed her and pulled her under.
    Don't let me die, Mother Mary! She thought in anguish.
    "Your Christian god can't help you," Grandmother whispered inwardly. "Draw on the power of the Druids."
    I don't know how. Help me, Grandmother! Still under the dark, churning water, Annoure's ears ached and her lungs burned.
    /images came into her mind of the blue-eyed man from her dreams. He told her to fight—to live. She felt him reaching out for her.
    She clawed her way toward the surface, desperate for air.