by Lee Savino
I risked a glance at Ivar. The warrior offered me a kind look, as if he knew my struggle. I wished I had my magic. I could gather it around me like a shield. I’d feel myself again, if I could hide.
Tristan plunked down a plate. “Eat.”
I stared at the food—dried figs, meat stew, and a few rounds of bread.
“It’s good,” Ivar said, using his own bread to mop up the gravy. He leaned back in his chair as I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. “How goes our guest’s visit, commander?”
When Tristan didn’t answer, I raised my eyes to Ivar’s dark ones. “I am to meet the king.”
Tristan growled, sounding more beast than man. Ivar looked at him sharply.
The commander sat down beside me, picking up a piece of bread and tearing it. “After this we will bring you to bathe and prepare for your audience. Tonight, you will dine with him.”
I twisted my hands in my gown. I didn’t know it would be so soon. I thought I’d have time to prepare, not that I had much I could to do.
After a minute, Tristan sighed. “Lady,” he scooted closer, offering the bread.
I shook my head.
“Let me,” Ivar said.
“Very well,” Tristan rose. “I must go make sure half my warriors haven’t fallen to our champion on the practice field. Deliver her to the baths.”
The air grew heavy as Tristan left us alone. I watched Ivar warily as he sat down next to me. He’d disapproved of Lars flirting with me, but the smile between the close-cropped beard told me he wasn’t feeling so stern anymore.
“Start with a fig.” He held it up until I opened my mouth. Then he fed it to me.
“It is good, is it not? We receive wagons of tribute. I’m told they dry on the way here.” He picked up another tidbit.
“Next is a honey cake. Come, it is Lars favorite. His mother favored them, and he remembers her.”
Between bites, I asked, “Do you remember your mother?”
“Sometimes. I dream of her.” He kept his lips pressed tight as he fed me more.
“I never met her. She died in childbirth. Lars’ mother nursed me, and she is who I remember.”
He started to offer a cake to me, and when I darted my head forward to take it, he whipped it away and took a bite instead, winking at me. “Because of her, I am also fond of honeycakes.”
I smiled at his playfulness. He brushed some crumbs from my gown.
“Do you eat meat?”
I shook my head.
“Pity. I am a fine hunter.”
“So humble,” I teased.
He laughed, and it warmed my heart. When we first met, Ivar seemed so serious. I wondered what had changed.
“I caught you easily enough” he reminded me.
“I was not running. If I had, you would’ve found victory much harder to win.”
“I hope, then, you never run from me.”
Our eyes met, and heat flashed through my body again, as if he’d touched me. He had his own set of Gifts, though I did not know what they were. And would never know, if I completed my task and left at dawn.
The thought made me sad.
As if he sensed my change of feelings, he turned sober. For a while we were silent, he toyed with his cup.
“You’re very brave to come here.”
“I had no choice.” I didn’t admit why I was here. To do so would mean my death. If any of the Berserkers suspected treason, I’d be imprisoned and tortured. Who would wield the final executioners axe—Tristan? Ivar? Or the giant warrior I had saved?
“The man on the field…” I hesitated until Ivar nodded for me to continue. “What’s his name?”
“Did he tell you?” Ivar’s dark eyes bored into me.
“When I met him, he couldn’t not remember.”
“I wager he remembers now. Or will, after a few hours of sparring clears his head. If he did not tell you, then it’s not for me to say.” Ivar offered me another bite, and when I shook my head, he dusted off his hands and rose. “Come. It’s time to visit the baths.”
Lars
The warrior across from me wore no helm or armour but rushed in as if his skin would deflect a blade. I charged to meet him. Sword met sword with a clang that set my ears ringing. I grunted under the weight of my larger comrade, feet scrabbling in the dust. He was bigger, but I was faster. Letting my knees bend, I dropped out from under his crushing girth, and darted away, my sword nicking his leg as I passed. A rage-filled bellow filled the air.
Warily, I whirled to face my opponent. With relief, I noted he was smiling.
“First blood, Lars,” the watching warriors shouted with respect. My opponent nodded his agreement, signaling the end of the sparring match.
“Well fought,” he called. I grinned back and cleaned my sword as he leaned on his to catch his breath. One hand rubbed his wrist, which still bore a mark of a shackle.
“It was a good match,” I agreed, approaching him. He stood, looming over even me, who was counted tall among the Berserkers. “Although I admit, it could’ve gone either way. Tomorrow you may yet beat me.”
He grunted, and I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “It is good to have you back.”
“It is good to be back. I admit I am surprised. The beast rose up,” he shook his head. “I thought it was the end.”
“It was... until she came.” I did not need to mention the lady Yseult by name.
“She touched me,” his voice held awe. “One touch and my mind cleared.”
“Lars,” someone called, and I turned to the commander crossing the field. We saluted him, my opponent included, and Tristan gave him a special salute before singling me out to follow him.
“Commander,” I asked, wiping my sweaty face on my shirt as he stopped in the cool shade of the wall. “What brings you here? Where is the lady?”
“The king wishes to see her tonight.”
“Tonight?” I repeated. I’d thought we’d have more time.
The frustration on Tristan’s face told me the same. In the past, we’d worked together to protect maids from our king’s scrutiny. Never defying him outright, just protecting the women he might prey upon. Women like our mother.
But this time it was not to be. Yseult was too special to escape notice.
“Gaul,” I said, and Tristan nodded. The king’s own spy within the guard’s ranks. It would do well for him to meet an accident while we’re on patrol—or on the practice field.
“Gaul must’ve passed news on to our liege. Yseult’s audience is tonight. The king will take her to bride and then…” he shook his head. He knew as well as I what happened to the king’s wives.
On the practice field, the greatest warrior among us laughed as he sparred with six men at a time. Hours before he’d been a raving mad man.
Whoever this lady was, she held the key to our sanity. Our salvation. After decades of waiting, growing weary under the Berserker curse, we finally had hope.
“We must save her,” I whispered.
“We must,” Tristan agreed fiercely. “But how?”
Yseult
Ivar led me back into the castle, down halls that twisted and turned until I despaired of ever finding my way back to any room I knew. The mage might well use magic to keep the halls of his home too confusing for guests to memorize. A labyrinth, another layer of defense.
At last we came to a great marble entrance. The air was softer here, humid. Our footsteps echoed.
“In here,” Ivar stepped aside and let me go first. I gasped at the long pool set in the middle of the room, surrounded by pillars and tiled walls. High, high above the pool, windows just under the great vaulted ceiling let in a little light. Swirls of color drew my eye, murals rivaling any picture I’d ever seen.
“This is beautiful,” I gasped.
“Very beautiful,” he smiled, but he seemed more pleased to watch me. “The baths are heated by deep earth springs. Enjoy yourself, lady,” he bowed. “I will send another to fetch you.”
I crouched down, gazing at the water. I wished it was a scrying glass that could give me some hint of my future. I don’t know how long I sat, but when my reflection blended with another’s, I looked up.
Tristan stood over me, his brow furrowed. “You did not bathe.”
I rested my head against my knees, my dry state my only replace.
“Do you find this place pleasing?” He looked around the room as his voice echoed between the murals.
“It’s peaceful. Who built these baths?”
“The Romans. They made the murals, too.”
“Amazing. They are a grand empire.” I did not tell him that in a thousand years, their baths would be a memory, the murals chipped and their roads crumbling. So much greatness faded to dusk. “Does your liege seek to rival them?”
“He already does. But let us not speak of him,” Tristan set down his helm and gestured to the water. “You must ready yourself.”
“I have nothing to wear.”
“Garments are being prepared.”
“By whom?”
He shook his head.
“Did you send to the village? Speak to a warrior who found me these?” I lifted a foot and pulled off the boots he’d given me, letting them fall with a thump.
He shook his head and turned to study the wall.
“Where are all the king’s servants?”
“We serve at the pleasure of the king.”
“I mean his court. Why is this place so empty?”
He angled his head enough for me to see he raised a brow. “You do not delight in our company?”
“You know I do.” I imbued my voice with all my latent passion.
That made him turn, frustration on his face.
“Bathe,” he ordered. “Make ready. And then I will tell you about the king.”
“You will?”
“I had come to warn—” he broke off. “I have come to tell you what to expect when you meet with my liege.”
I sucked in a breath. “Why?”
His shoulders rose, fell. “I wish to protect you.”
I padded to him. It took everything in me not to put my hand along the side of his face, feel the rough edge of his stubbled jaw under my palm. “Why?” He was a Berserker, pledged to his lord. Why would he help me?
“I have never met anyone like you. My lady, please…”
“You call me lady. You know I am not.”
“I know not what you are,” his voice came out hoarse.
“I am but a maid,” I said with full honesty. I’d seen my reflection in the pool. In this world, in this time, I was only myself. No magic, no artifice.
He stared over my head. “You are more than what you seem.”
“Very well. I will bathe. If…” I hesitated, risking all. “If you will join me.”
His eyes widened.
“Bathe with me, Tristan.”
I backed away but waited until his nod before fussing with my garment, pulling it over my head and letting it fall.
Tristan had turned to study the murals. He would not look on my naked form. I smiled at his restraint.
Eagerly, I entered the water, warmed by the springs in the earth. I kicked around, sending ripples wide, splashing until I heard Tristan’s armor fall.
I watched him strip off his warrior’s garb. His muscles flexed, long arms and powerful legs, a great firm chest all revealed to my gaze. When he only wore a loincloth, his eyes fell on mine. I looked away at the last, blood rushing to my cheeks.
The water sighed as he entered the pool, and I again watched his dark head and broad shoulders come toward me.
“Is this what you wanted, lady?”
“Yes,” I mouthed the word but had no breath to give it life. We swam in large circles around each other.
“I am glad of your hospitality,” I said to Tristan. “Thank you for your escort.”
Tristan hesitated. “What do you know of the mage?”
He said he’d protect me, but our trust was fragile and new. For all he knew, I was a spy. I would have to go very carefully. “I know he is very powerful. His reach increases every year.”
Tristan nodded. “He is of old.”
“The lore in my country tells of a king who wished to be strong to stand against his enemies. He had many wives and many sons. He wished for more power. He grew too strong and was said to be cursed by the gods.” I bit my lip, waiting for Tristan to read the meaning behind my words.
“It is true. He gains power from the dark arts.”
“He is a sorcerer,” I whispered. I knew how the mage gained his power. Sacrifice.
“I do not want you to go to him,” Tristan said, and the frustration in his voice made my eyes widen.
“You are the commander of his army.”
“And spent my life pledged to his service along with my warrior brothers. But what have we gained but a long, endless descent into madness?”
“Would you betray him then?”
“If I did, I must have a reason. Some higher purpose. Something to live for.”
I swallowed. I could barely meet his gaze.
He reached out, slowly, as if I were a bird that might fly away. Gently he tugged a wet lock of my hair. “Something…or someone.”
“Tristan,” I whispered. He kept playing with my hair, not meeting my eyes. “When I first saw you, I felt I’d known you forever.”
“I dreamed of you, lady.”
I moved forward, letting the water lap between us. “Mine was more than a dream. It felt like…a memory.”
“Ivar says there is a woman foretold to become our mate.”
I smiled. “You’d share me with your men?”
He met my gaze then, eyes flashing. “Not just any man. But my captains, we are more than comrades. More than brothers.”
“From where I’m from, Berserker warriors mate in pairs. There are so few women to be their mates, and the companionship of their warrior brother allows them to fight the curse far longer. But, Tristan, you’ve known me but a day. Not even that long.”
“I’ve known you since I first dreamed of your face. You saved my brother from his fate. He would’ve succumbed to the battle madness, if not for you. You saved him.” He stepped closer, and I was never more aware of a man. Everything in my body was tuned to him, strained towards him.
“Yseult, you saved us all.”
I tilted my face upwards, feeling his breath on my lips. A beautiful moment, and then it was gone. Harsh footsteps and echoing voices made me cringe. Tristan stepped in front of me as warriors burst into view—Lars and Ivar, chasing down Gaul. I crossed my arms in front of my breasts and crouched behind the large commander, peering around his arm.
Lars and Ivar got in front of Gaul at the last, and stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons in hand, blocking him from coming further.
“Let me through. I have news from the king.”
“What news?” Tristan’s voice boomed.
Gaul craned his head “Where—” he started.
Lars pushed him back. “You will go no further.”
“State your message,” Ivar ordered.
The upstart warrior glared at them both. “The king has sent gifts to his guest. They are in her chambers.”
“She sends thanks in reply,” Tristan said. “Now leave us.”
Gaul retreated, then stopped. “Take care commander, that you do not touch what is not yours.”
“Enough,” Lars pushed forward, knocking Gaul back. Ivar stopped his warrior brother with a hand on the blond’s shoulder.
The three left, as quickly as they’d come.
Tristan cursed.
Befo
re I could lift a hand to touch and soothe him, he strode away, leaving the pool, letting water stream off his naked form.
By the time I emerged, he was dressed, helmet and all. My heart ached. All my life I’d been alone, and satisfied, complete in my own power. But I needed this man like no other. His closeness, his touch, his strength lent to me so I could face the greatest threat of my life.
“Tristan—”
He faced the murals again and would not turn. “It was wrong of me to bathe with you. I will not take advantage again.”
“You—”
“I am the king’s commander. You are his guest. It will not happen again.”
I bit my tongue. I wanted to rage and scream. I had but one day to do my duty, if I could. At the end, I would either live, or die.
But now I was not ready to die. Not without telling all my secrets to this man who seemed to know so much about me already.
I’d left my shift crumpled on the floor, but now it lay smooth and unwrinkled on a bench. The sight of the soft linen gave me pause. A faint scent of lavender lingered on the cloth, as if it’d been laundered and dried. But I had seen no servant come or go.
He has no need of human servants… but no one said anything about inhuman ones
Swallowing my worry, I slipped the now clean garment back on.
Tristan led me back to my rooms. I crossed to pour wine, pretending to be fine.
“What sort of women does the king prefer?” I asked in a nonchalant tone. I hoped to find some answers of what I would face tonight. If the Corpse King found me pleasing, this charade would continue. The spells I’d felt at the gate oppressive. He was certainly strong enough to kill me. If not by magic, he’d give the word and Tristan would run me through. The commander of the guard had no choice. “Well? You have served him many years. Does he prefer dark hair or blonde?”
Tristan had remained in the shadow on the edges of the room. “The king has no one preference that I know. He likes women whose essence lights the stone.”
“Have you met many of his consorts?”
“Our mothers were all his wives.”