by Lee Savino
Rolf barked. A burst of activity by the hearth had me whirling. I deflected a heavy pot before it hit my arm.
“Leave her alone!” A dark-haired girl quivered in the corner, reaching for another pot. I barked a laugh.
Sage backed away, and my attention snapped to her. She slipped through a door and disappeared.
Another pot sailed out—this one at my head. A Berserker slapped it down, darting into the kitchen.
“I’ve got this one.” A warrior named Haakon pushed past me, heading towards the dark-haired woman. His warrior brother Ulf came on his heels. Together they closed in on the little domestic warrior as she squealed and threw another pot.
Ulf or Haakon grunted.
The sweet-smelling girl is getting away. Rolf reached out to me. Grumbling, I ducked through another door. The rooms were built for men the size of ants. The wolf had no trouble. I trotted after him into a dark hall. Ahead we saw a glimpse of blonde hair—a flash of sunlight in the dank, stinking place. Sage fled around a corner, and we picked up our pace.
The beast wants this one, Rolf told me. I felt the same restless stirring in my breast, the dark hunger gnawing at me suddenly sated by the woman’s scent.
She is our mate. I knew it from the first. We will claim her as our own, but first, we must find her.
Here. The wolf found the end of the trail, sniffing at the friar’s mead and Sage’s honey scent spilling out for under a heavy oak door. The friar had barred against us but it was no match for Berserker strength.
One blow of my fist and the wood splintered.
Sounds echoed from the kitchen, more pots banging to the floor. One of the warriors cursed, the other laughed.
Rolf raised his head. Ulf and Haakon found a little fighter.
I prefer my mate to be sweet, I told him. Like honey.
Mmmm. The wolf’s tongue lolled out as it panted happily. Then let us go in, fight the holy man, and take her.
7
Sage
I raced down the stone hall, skidding around a corner. The click of the wolf claws on the stone followed me. The warrior and his wolf were on the hunt, seeking their prey. Me.
Ahead a light flashed from the friar’s office with a sizzling sound of a fire flaring to life. By the time I reached the door, the sound died. Acrid smoke filled the room, making me cough.
“Shut the door,” the friar hissed from the table where he bent over a pile of ash. I whirled and pushed the heavy door shut, and turned the key to lock it.
“What is happening?” I stayed close to the door. The wolf and warrior would find us; it was only a matter of time. For some reason, I was less frightened of them than the man inside the room with me.
“The enemy is here child. We must kneel and pray for deliverance.”
I didn’t budge, but neither did he. I’d done enough kneeling in the past, and it’d never brought any supernatural rescue.
“Why have they come?” I asked.
The friar stared at the pile of burnt matter on the table. Under the ash, one of the pieces was smooth and white. Bone.
“What’s going on?” I continued, fear sliding off me. Our lives as we knew it were over. Somehow, the knowledge made me brave. “Where’s Sari? And Hazel?”
“Dead,” he said, his face twisted. “Dead and gone. And now the enemy has come for you, wicked, wicked girl. You’ve brought judgment down on us all. You and your kind.”
“My kind?”
“Whores,” he sneered. “Whores, the lot of you.”
A murmur outside the door made me back further into the room.
“They’re here,” I breathed.
The heavy wooden door shuddered. Another blow and it splintered. The friar dove behind his desk, leaving me to face the warriors alone.
8
Thorbjorn
The door broke with a satisfying sound.
Inside a few candles lit the room, along with a hearth fire. But neither provided the smoke I smelled, a thick, acrid scent—tainted.
Beside me, Rolf coughed, shaking his head sharply as if to clear it. Black magic.
The little female stood in the center of the room, eyes wide. My shoulders softened at the sight of her.
The friar is hiding behind the table. I scent him. Rolf told me.
But my attention was all for Sage. She planted herself in between me and my enemy. Trembling, looking as if she might faint, but staring me down. Normally the monster inside me would have smelled this fear and leapt to attack. Instead, the beast savored the honey in her scent, tasting it like good mead, wanting more. I had the feeling after an hour holding Sage close, the monster would loll on the floor like a drunk, curl up at her feet, basking in her scent.
Thorbjorn? Are you all right?
I’ve never felt this way before.
“Who are you?” Sage’s pulse fluttered in her throat.
“No one you should fear,” I told her, and tucked my weapon away.
The friar burst from his hiding place, wild, a knife in his hand. He jerked the little one back and held the blade to her throat.
I started forward, and Rolf’s teeth caught the edge of my jerkin.
No. We must keep her safe. Think. Do not give in to the rage.
“My master is coming,” the friar snarled. “He will not allow you to take his brides.”
His master is the Corpse King, Rolf said, and snorted as if he’d been sprayed by a skunk. That is the stinking magic I scent. The friar must have done a spell to call him.
Red suffused my vision.
Steady, Rolf warned. If we lose control here, in this room, the woman may not survive a fight.
“Do not hurt her,” I choked out of a misshapen throat. If I wasn’t careful, the Change would soon take me, and I’d transform into the beast, half-man, half-monster.
I saw my reflection in the whites of the woman’s eyes. I frightened her.
The thought enraged my beast further.
Cool. Control. Rolf’s voice trickled into my head, calming me.
My beast backed down.
“It’s over,” I told the priest. “We are taking all the women. They will be safe with us.”
The little one jerked in the friar’s hold, her eyes on me. Her breath caught at the knife pressed in further.
“Be calm,” I said to her. “I will not let him hurt you.”
“Come any closer, and I’ll kill her—” the holy man said. The girl whimpered and clawed at his arms, but the knife nicked the skin of her neck.
“Put the knife down and we’ll spare you.” I added a push of authority to my words. Humans responded to dominance as well as wolves, they just didn’t always recognize it.
The holy man half-lowered the knife before he realized what he’d done. With a snarl, he reversed the move.
I rushed forward at the same time the woman’s leg kicked back and hit the holy man between the legs. The knife flashed in a sure movement towards her neck, and would’ve completed its arc if I hadn’t grabbed the holy man’s arm and wrenched it away. His bone snapped.
The little female darted away with a sob. I hesitated, holding the holy man, wanting to go after her.
I’ve got her. Rolf said, darting into the hall. I waited.
A gust of unearthly wind, and Rolf came striding back into the room, the frightened woman caught in his arms. Rolf pulled Sage flush to him, her back to his chest, and crooned, “Hush. No harm will come to you. I promise.”
She wept silently.
“You dare hurt her,” I growled at the fat man. He was so round and heavy while our woman was thin, almost childlike in size. He could’ve hurt her.
Killing him would barely stoke my rage.
Thorbjorn, Rolf’s voice in my head steadied me.
“What have you done?” I pushed the holy man to the table where there was a smoldering pile of wood and bone. I coughed at the scent of evil. “This is a spell.”
“Yes.” The holy man reeked of fear and drink. His broken arm hung a
wkwardly at his side. “Soon my master will be here. If you kill me now, he will only avenge me. If you let me go, he will be merciful.”
This was the spell I spoke of, Rolf said. A fetch for the holy man’s master. A flare to alert the Corpse King of our attack.
I chuckled without mirth. “Your master cares not if you live or die. Your death will gain him another corpse slave. His magic is such even the dead do his bidding.”
The fear blazing in the holy man’s scent told me it was true.
“We will tie you to wait for him,” I said.
“Take me with you,” he licked his lips. “I am useful. I will be your slave, instead. You can have the women.”
Anger blazed through me again. “We are taking the women anyway.” I waved a hand at Rolf. Take her away. I do not want our mate to see this.
Rolf shifted his grip and the woman whimpered. Her cries made the beast mad, and I fought for control.
“Stop,” I snapped at my warrior brother. “You must be gentle. Do not hurt her.”
I am not the one who hurt her. My warrior brother pulled back the little one’s sleeves. Bruises bloomed on her arms, a few blue over the mottled green and yellow of old marks.
“Who did this to you?” I half-shouted at the woman.
Have care, Thorbjorn. You’re frightening her.
“Who laid a hand on you?” I asked her, calming my tone.
Her lips pressed together but her eyes darted towards the holy man.
I whirled to the fat man cringing in the corner. “You’re a dead man.”
“No,” he whined. “No.”
“No,” a soft voice burst out behind me. The woman pushed away from Rolf. He let her stand on her own, but his arms caged her gently.
“Please… don’t kill him,” she begged softly.
“He hurt you.” The cretin had left marks on her—my mate’s—small arms. He deserved to be ripped apart. I passed a hand over my face—forcing myself to keep calm. My palm shook. Inside me, my beast howled for justice.
“He is not an evil man,” she said. “He does not mean to be.”
“Yes, thank you, Sage,” the fat man muttered.
“You will be quiet,” I ordered him.
“He doesn’t know any better,” Sage continued, though tears streaked her cheeks. I would break the holy man’s bones, one bone for each of her bruises.
“He laid a hand on you and threatened your life,” I said. “No man threatens a Berserker bride, and lives.”
She blanched.
“Your mercy will give him a clean death,” I added.
“No, please,” the holy man squealed. “Mercy.”
I ignored him and kept speaking to Sage. “How long did he touch you? Did you invite his touch?”
She tensed like a rabbit sensing a predator.
Careful, Thorbjorn. Rolf said. He pulled the little one closer to his muscled body, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her mind is clouded by fear. She may not understand what you ask.
“Did you want him to touch you?”
She bowed her head. “No,” she whispered.
“She decides,” I told the friar. “She decides what manner of death you deserve.”
“No,” Rolf forced the words out. It was hard for him to speak like a man, so soon after the Change. “Do not make her choose. She has suffered enough.” Death is not a gift we should give our mate.
Take her into the hall, I said.
Once he drew her backwards, out of sight, I threw back my head and roared my rage to the ceiling.
Thorbjorn? Another Berserker linked to my mind. Brokk. Do you have the holy man?
I do. He touched the women, harmed them. Soon, he will die.
I stalked forward, towering over the holy man. The stink of his fear blended with the sharp smell of human waste. He’d soiled himself.
“Tell me truly,” I growled. “Did you know she did not want your touch?”
With a weak cry, he rushed at me. I stepped aside, caught his head and snapped his neck. A clean death. More than he deserved. I gave the crumpled body a second glance as I walked out of the room.
Brokk’s cry rang in the pack bond. The Corpse King! He is coming!
“We lingered too long,” I called to Rolf. “Run.”
9
Rolf
The abbey rang with screams, but the woman in my arms remained silent as I towed her along. She was a brave little thing. The beast had chosen well.
“We must go,” I told her. “A great evil is coming, and will not stop until it possesses you.” My voice rasped from little use.
Thorbjorn stalked behind us, his eyes lit bright gold with the beast on the hunt. I would’ve passed the woman to him, but a touch of his mind told me he simmered with barely controlled rage. There would be time enough for him to hold and enjoy her, if we got out of this alive.
“This way,” he growled, and broke into a door. I caught Sage in my arms and ran.
How do you know this path? I asked as Thorbjorn led us down a dark hallway.
Knut asked his bride Hazel about the most useful routes through the abbey. She grew up here with the other spaewives.
We turned a corner and came to a great hall.
Thorbjorn cursed as he stumbled into a large statue. It fell to the ground with a great clang.
There’s gold here. I caught the gleam on the altar at the front of the room. A wealth of it.
All the gold I want is in your arms. He nodded to the bright head bent against my chest. His voice sounded calm, but I knew the violence waiting to spring free. I tucked my sweet-smelling bundle closer as we burst out of the great abbey doors onto the road.
A cold wind swept up the path.
“The Corpse King comes for his brides,” Thorbjorn muttered. “I told the rest of the pack to scatter. We must keep the spaewives safe.”
Then let us flee to the forest. Though it will be hard going with her in my arms.
“Up the road then,” Thorbjorn said. “Toward the village. We keep to this path until dawn, and then take cover.”
Our feet beat against the road, in time to the girl’s fluttering heart. She huddled against me, so quiet I was afraid she’d stop breathing in any moment.
“Almost there, little one,” I murmured. “You’re almost safe.” I allowed myself to inhale the scent of her hair. It calmed the beast, just as Thorbjorn said.
Is she all right? Thorbjorn asked, sounding more in control, more himself. Such a quiet little thing.
She’s in shock.
Lines of strain crossed his face. We must get her far away from this place. She will learn that she is safe with us.
She will learn, I agreed. I picked up the pace, striding in a smooth motion so I would not jostle my precious bundle. Thorbjorn ran ahead, axe out and at the ready for an unseen attack.
Do you expect the villagers to attack us?
I don’t know. But his lips curved in acknowledgement of my jest. Best be prepared for whatever the Corpse King might do this night. He will not give up his brides so easily.
The woman stirred in my arms. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?”
“We are headed to safety. There is an evil force following us.”
“Wait.” Thorbjorn halted. Tilted his head up to the wind and sniffed. “Do you smell it?”
Blood, I said. And death.
10
Thorbjorn
Take her. Rolf came to me with the girl in arms. When I hesitated he proffered her impatiently. I am the best scout. I will investigate this without alerting any potential enemies. We need to know what the Corpse King is doing.
We need to run. I would not advocate retreat, but wisdom told me what would keep our mate safe. We must keep her safe, at all costs.
We cannot run until we know where the danger lies.
I am too dangerous right now, I protested. The tips of my fingers itched, ready for the Change. If the rage took over, I’d become a monster, complete with dark fur and cl
aws. My vision would turn red and my mind would blank. The last time it happened, I woke up in a field of slaughter. Everyone around me was dead.
I would not reject the gift the goddess had given me, but I did not deserve a woman. I could protect her from any foe, but couldn’t protect her from myself.
I cannot, Rolf. I might lose control.
Then you should take care of her. You said it yourself: she soothes the beast.
He unloaded his light burden before I could argue more. With a shake, he transformed into a wolf.
Take cover, stay there. I will return.
Clasping the woman to me, I hunkered down behind a boulder on the side of the road.
I reached out to my warrior brothers using the pack bonds. Where are you?
Their voices came faint and fragmented across the bond. The Corpse King routed us… run...
Gritting my teeth, I linked to the Alphas.
Thorbjorn? Daegan, the second in the pack, responded, his voice flowing down the connection like heady mead. Strength flowed into me. The Alphas could share their power with the pack, or draw power from the lot of us. They could communicate with us all using the pack bonds, which is why we agreed it was better for the Alphas to remain safe back at our mountain home, rather than come on the raid.
Besides, they had their mates, and the rest of us were eager to find ours.
Something is wrong, I told Daegan. The holy man who kept the orphans did a spell to alert the Corpse King. I fear he will stop us from taking our mates.
Understood. Get away from the abbey. Stay away from the main roads. I will tell the others to go into hiding. His voice wavered as a great force shook the bond. A cold wind, pushed by an unseen hand. Only one being we knew had power to disrupt the pack bonds.
The Corpse King.
I shuddered as pain spiked through the bond. Whether the attack came on my end or on Daegan’s, I did not know, but it didn’t matter. Head throbbing, I couldn’t link to him any further. Understood, I managed before the connection fell away, gnawed by the teeth of a spell.