Lord of Rage rhos-2

by Jill Monroe

  “Your brothers are as dead as your parents,” Cedric sneered, and spat on the ground. “I rule here now.”

  “As a minion. And to the Blood Sorcerer. Both of you.”

  “Take the princess,” Leyek ordered, still not coming out of the shadows. Demonstrating his low opinion of Elden. “Tie her. She’ll make a delicious meal for our Blood Lord.”

  She truly valued Osborn’s insistence she practice sliding her sword from her scabbard over and over again. The only time she could make a stand would be now. It would be her one chance.

  Her fingers gripped the hilt.

  WHY THE HELL WAS HE GOING?

  These were new times. Different and desperate times. A menace threatened their world—all the realms. It could be years or only days away, but soon they’d all face the reckoning. There may be little left after the battle. What pleasure, what love, anyone could grab…he’d grab that now with both hands. It didn’t matter that she was a princess, and even if it did…he wouldn’t care. Osborn would offer anything of himself she’d take. Breena was his pleasure. His love.

  Those responsible for the deaths of his mother and sister and father, and the people of his village…he may never know their identity.

  Something ripped inside him. A painful acknowledgment that there may never be an opportunity for him to avenge his family. That understanding hurt so fiercely, so brutally, that he almost keened over the loss of what had been his steady companion since returning from his Bärenjagd. Osborn gulped in deep breaths, forcing his heart to slow, his stomach to settle.

  But there was still a chance for Breena.

  Still a chance for her to free her people. To find her brothers. To do something, anything, to shake the ever-present need for revenge.

  Why would he leave her now? He would fight alongside her. Fight to bring peace to her land or die, sword in hand at her flank.

  But Osborn didn’t plan on dying.

  Osborn turned on his heel, ready to charge into the outbuilding where he’d left her. Ready to seal his fate to hers.

  The steel clang of Breena sliding her sword from its scabbard slowed his step. He knew it was Breena’s sword. He’d heard that sound many, many times. Made her practice often enough until her movements were fluid and smooth. So that she’d draw her sword quickly enough to spring a surprise hit.

  Why would she be drawing it now? Among her welcoming people?

  Cold began to creep up his legs and spread throughout his body. He dropped everything but his sword and his pelt. His berserkergang was alert and anxious for a fight. Osborn slipped into the outbuilding through a side door. He spotted Breena as she stood in battle stance, her sword protecting her body, her eyes alert. She was magnificent.

  And she was his.

  The man who’d welcomed his princess back so heartily a few minutes ago, gave Osborn gold to leave, now raised his weapon to her.

  Rage pounded in his chest. Anger flashed white-hot in front of his eyes. With the cry of his berserker rage, Osborn raised his sword and charged. In less than a heartbeat, the man’s sword clanged to the floor, his body not much farther behind.

  Osborn stalked in front of Breena and raised his sword. “Who dies next?” he asked.

  A low whistle sounded in the back of the room. Osborn felt Breena stiffen, and knew whoever made that sound was the threat.

  “Show yourself,” Osborn commanded.

  “Or you’ll what? Kill these fine Elden citizens? Do it. You’d be saving me the effort. Although…”

  The slow scrape of a chair across the floor alerted Osborn he was about to see who’d tried to harm Breena.

  “I do like the idea of you getting a good look at my face—as it will be the last thing you see.” A tall, thin shell of a man walked out of the shadows. Osborn’s berserker stirred again. He’d heard the rumors of what blood sorcery would do to a person. Drain them of what once made them human. First their senses, until they craved hearing only the agonized cries of others and hungered solely for the taste of near death. Then all emotion would flee from their souls—first empathy, then remorse, until finally only hostility and greed remained. Lastly, their bodies would change. The curves and planes and every range of compassionate expressions of the face vanished until finally only a walking, breathing carcass remained.

  “Leyek is strong. And brutal,” Breena whispered, and Osborn understood. This minion of the Blood Sorcerer might look frail, but that was an illusion. His power was indomitable, tinged with great evil.

  Osborn became one with the ber spirit.

  “Are you what I think you are?” Leyek asked.

  Osborn steadied his shoulders.

  The Blood Sorcerer’s minion let out a delighted laugh. “You are. You’re Ursan. A berserker, in fact. Thought we’d killed you all.”

  His fingers locked on the hilt of his sword. “You thought wrong.”

  Leyek flashed him a smile. “Good. Your women died crying and screaming, by the way. I’ll enjoy your death just as much.” His berserkergang raged inside him, but Osborn tamped it down. He knew Leyek’s words were lies and meant to provoke him.

  Leyek made a show of examining the length of his nails. “Surprised you would be helping an Elden princess. Thought disguising our changeling vamps as those of Elden was a particularly clever bit of deception designed by my master. Although I will admit I did think the subtlety of the ploy would be wasted on a beast.”

  A coldness crept into his body, and invaded his chest. This wasn’t the focusing chill of the berserkergang overtaking him—this was something different.

  Kill.

  Avenge.

  Hurt.

  Breena rested her soft hand on his shoulder. Quieting him.

  His woman was right. This creature, this bearer of evil, wanted to anger him. Push him to make a mistake because this thing knew that, despite his command of blood magic, Osborn could still kill him. Would still kill him. With the power of his berserker ancestry and Breena’s nearness.

  Osborn raised his sword, calmly and with perfect balance.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  EVERY LESSON, EVERY WORD of caution and instruction, Osborn ever gave Breena now ran through her mind. She’d never been so afraid. She’d awoken not so long ago with only two commands echoing in her mind. To survive and to avenge.

  Now she added a new one on her own: win this fight with Osborn.

  Leyek raised his sword, waving it around in an elaborate dance.

  It’s the flourishing knights who are the first to die.

  The air around her chilled. Osborn’s berserkergang grew in strength. The Blood Sorcerer’s minion charged. The clang of steel on steel rang through the air as Osborn blocked his blow. With an upswing of his sword, her warrior almost sent Leyek reeling to the floor.

  She searched the crowd until she met Rolfe’s eyes. Signaling toward the door, she mouthed the word, “Go!” With Leyek fully immersed in battle, now would be the time for her people to escape. With a nod, Rolfe silently gathered the Eldens who awaited their deadly fate and ushered them away.

  With her people secure, Breena reached for her own sword. Two on one might not be a fair fight, but when did a wielder of blood magic deserve honor and respect?

  Osborn charged forward, his sword slicing through his prey’s shoulder. Leyek screeched at the pain, the sound horrible to hear; the walls began to shake, and dust rained down on their heads.

  “That’s the sound your vamps made as I killed them,” Osborn shouted at him with a sneer. He thrust again, but Leyek was able to sidestep the blow.

  The Blood Sorcerer’s minion began to shake and mumble. Words, dark words, reverberated off the beams of the ceiling. A revolting menace permeated through the small hall. Nausea made her stomach roil.

  “He’s summoning his magic,” she called.

  Leyek moved in a flash. A slash appeared on the right side of Osborn’s pelt. Then the left. With a gleeful cackle, the pelt fell to the floor and caught on fire.

  Osb
orn’s connection to the ber spirit was severed. Gone.

  With a roar of outrage, Osborn rushed toward the minion. But some invisible force repelled him back, and left him bleeding. A nasty gash appeared across his chest, and blood seeped from the wound. Blood magic.

  Osborn glanced down at his injury, and wiped across his ribs. His hand came back red with his blood. He stilled at the sight, and the room seemed to warm.

  Then her warrior’s face changed. The unrelenting rage lining his features softened. Replaced by determination. Osborn thrust, parried and thrust again.

  Leyek stumbled backward, blood pouring from a gash across his face, and another wound to his side. Osborn charged once more, burying the blade in the minion’s stomach. Leyek fell to the cold stone floor, his blood pooling around him.

  “Tell me how they died again,” Osborn ordered.

  Leyek struggled to breathe. “I’ll give you power. Great power. We’ll bring the girl in together. My master will reward you greatly.”

  “Tell me how they died.”

  The minion’s eyes turned the color of decay. He knew there’d be no ally in the Ursan standing over him. “I gave free rein to the vamps. Torture, devastate, torment…they did it all.” Leyek’s words began to slur, a murky haze surrounded him. The wound on his cheek began to heal. She would not let this thing live another day.

  She ran to Osborn’s side, and grabbed the steel of his sword. Breena gripped the blade so hard it cut into her flesh. Energy stirred within her, swirled and grew. With a snap it left her fingers, forging itself with the steel.

  “My magic with your strength,” Breena said. “It’s time to finish him.”

  “It’s only right,” he answered.

  Osborn steered her aside, kicked Leyek’s blade toward him, then backed up. Her warrior eyed the Blood Sorcerer’s minion. Waved him forward.

  Leyek grabbed the hilt of his sword with bloody fingers. He chanted as he stood, but Breena no longer feared his brand of magic. He lunged at Osborn, and with only one strike from her warrior’s sword, Leyek fell to the ground dead. Her magic had destroyed him.

  Osborn wavered on his feet, and Breena ran toward him, looping his arm over her shoulders and helping him out the door. He needed to be in the fresh air, away from the death and magic of the blood.

  “You did it, Osborn. And without your pelt.”

  “We did it together.”

  “YOU BELONG AT MY SIDE, Breena,” he told her once they’d crossed the threshold, loving the feel of her strength and trying to not let on that he was as hurt as he appeared.

  “Don’t you mean you belong at my side?” she asked, a slow beautiful smile curving her lips.

  “Yes.” His breath flowed out as a relieved groan.

  Her kissable lips turned pouty. “I was doing pretty well in there. You didn’t have to turn all berserker.”

  “I am a berserker.”

  “Even without your pelt.”

  He nodded. The ber spirit would always be part of him. He understood that now. A lesson he could one day teach his brothers. “And yes, I did have to turn ‘all berserker.’ For you.”

  Breena stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “That’s why I love you. And him. Mostly you,” she teased.

  Osborn grabbed her hands. “You know I must go with you to Elden. The Blood Sorcerer killed my family, too.”

  Breena nodded. “I was hoping this was where you said you loved me, too.”

  She tried to pull her fingers from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. He would never let go. “And I’m trying to tell you that I would have followed you to Elden, anyway. Even without knowing he was responsible for what happened to my people. I was returning to convince you, uh, that I belonged at your side when I heard the sound of your blade.”

  He let her hands drop. Her decision. Her choice.

  She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb running along his lower lip.

  “There will be another full moon tonight. Breena of Elden, will you join me under the stars and seal your life with mine?”

  After gripping his hands in her tiny ones, she gave his fingers a squeeze. “I don’t know what we will face tomorrow, but tonight will be ours. Yes, Osborn.”

  “And, Breena?”

  She gazed into his eyes. “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  EPILOGUE

  THE NIGHT OF LEYEK’S defeat, Breena insisted they have a feast. She said it was in celebration, but Osborn knew she sensed her people needed festivity. The music, the dancing and the tales around the fire. To feel normal again. United as Eldens. The Blood Sorcerer had nearly broken them as a people. Truthfully many of them would never be the same, but tonight they would eat and laugh and forget.

  Tomorrow would be for battle plans. Breena had already questioned every Elden in an attempt to ferret out news, even the most vague of rumors about her brothers. Osborn knew she’d never fully rest until she had her answers, even if they were tragic.

  As the sun set, the fire blazed higher. By the hour more Eldens crept from the shadows to join her. Each one was greeted with laughter or tears and sometimes both. Families were reunited while others learned the knowledge of loved ones with stern acceptance. Grief would be for later. After the Blood Sorcerer’s death.

  As the stars filled the sky, Breena began to tell stories of Osborn’s bravery, and the Eldens were thrilled to have a legendary berserker join them in the upcoming battle. They laughed as she relayed his skills at dancing and he found himself smiling.

  Osborn had hated these people of Elden for most of his life, wanted to annihilate them like his own people had been by the Blood Sorcerer. Now, for the first time in his life, Osborn found he was content. But not so content he didn’t wonder how long they would be obligated to sit around the fire. He wanted nothing more than to draw Breena into the darkness of the night. To seal his life to hers as she’d promised. To lay his cloak on the ground and draw her down beside him and make love to her beneath the stars. He wanted nothing more than to hear her cries of pleasure.

  Earlier today he’d thought he’d never see her again, or hear her sweet voice again. Feel her touch. Sleep in his arms.

  Rolfe moved to stand behind Breena. His steely gaze challenging as he crossed his arms over his chest. The message was clear. There’d be no sneaking away this night, or any night, until they were wed.

  He gave the older warrior a nod of understanding, his intentions were honorable—marriage-wise that was. What he wanted to do to Breena’s body was wicked.

  Even though their most dangerous days lay ahead of them, Osborn looked forward to the future. For the first time since he was a young boy of fifteen. Breena had given that to him.

  Thankfully, Breena had moved away from stories of him and on toward tales of her training with the sword. Laughter settled around him, and he saw it took a moment for her people to wrap their minds around the changing image of her from sweet heir of Elden to warrior princess.

  Two more men joined the circle around the fire, and he heard Breena gasp. His hand was instantly at his side, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.

  Bernt and Torben stood there.

  He raised to his feet. “How did—?”

  Breena rushed to his brothers, kissing each one on the cheek. “Magic. I left clues only they could follow.”

  Osborn didn’t like the idea of them joining the fight, but they were almost men now. It was time he began accepting them that way. The Blood Sorcerer was responsible for taking away their childhood, and they had a right to the fight. His brothers settled around the fire, two more berserkers quickly welcomed. The people would entertain themselves long into the night.

  “I can do more than just leave clues. I don’t know if it’s that I’m on Elden land again or that the battle with Leyek released something, but I can feel my power growing. Look.”

  Breena brought her hands together and he felt the change in her. Something powerful and elusive formed between her hands. Grew.
Light pooled between her hands. “I can fully control my magic now. I don’t have to rely on intense emotion.”

  His mind strayed to the intense emotion they’d used to mask the trace magic from the blood scouts at the lake and he nearly groaned.

  The ball of light grew and she tossed it up into the air above her head where it separated into three distinct spheres. With a wave of her hand the spheres zipped across the sky, and he surveyed their progress until the light faded into the horizon. “I’m sending that out to my brothers.” A smile spread across her face. “I sense they are alive. I know it.”

  He’d been gifted with this incredible woman. He’d stay by her side until his last breath.

  “The moon is full overhead,” she whispered.

  His heart pounded and his body hardened. In a few moments she’d be his forever. With a laugh, she lifted her skirts and took off at a run. “I’ll be yours, but only if you catch me.”

  Osborn was too quick for her and reached for her hands. “Just try to get away.”

  LIKE MOST LITTLE GIRLS, Breena had often dreamed of her wedding day. She’d wear a stunning dress, formal and beaded with a long train the colors of Elden. Her husband would, of course, be courtly and handsome, and he’d take her to his palace after the wedding feast and the dancing.

  Never once had she expected the man who’d one day be her husband would be more inclined to growl than to dance. And tonight, she wore the sage dress her future husband had bought for her, the golden snake armband securely in place. Better than any imagined wedding finery.

  Instead of a great hall filled with a long list of aristocratic and highborn guests to view the royal proceedings, they walked hand in hand, just the two of them, surrounded by the trees and under a canopy of stars. The reality of Osborn was more perfect than anything she’d ever dreamed or imagined.

  Osborn, her wild berserker of a man, loved her.

  Once they’d reached a small clearing, he stopped and turned toward her, twining his fingers with hers.