by K. A Knight
I come back to myself to find Thorn crouching before me, his hands on my knees as he shakes me desperately.
I watch him with wide tear filled eyes, and remember what happened last time, and my promise for truth. I search his concerned eyes and know if I don’t tell him, he will never forgive me.
“I knew her,” I choke out.
“Wh-what?” he croaks.
“She was Ivar’s pet. He brought her in a couple of years after me. Thorn… I’m so sorry.” I try to reach out, but he drops his hands and falls to his ass before me.
“She dead?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine. I bite my lip and his eyes harden. “Worth, is my sister dead?”
I close my eyes in pain “Yes,” I whisper.
I open my eyes to see him flinch, like a bullet tore into him as he sucks in a breath.
“How?” he demands.
I shake my head and he grabs my cheeks. “I want to know how!” he shouts, the anguish etched across his handsome face.
I lick my dry chapped lips and swallow harshly. “A stab wound. She dropped a drink on one of his men. He stabbed her in her stomach. I–” I hold in my sob, my memories fighting to resurface. “I held her as she died. I sang to her and told her everything would be okay. I made sure she wasn’t alone, that she wasn’t scared. I held her even when she was gone, until they dragged me away from her kicking and screaming.” I remember the night, the one where I learnt how depraved and evil Ivar really is. How much hurt and pain can be imparted, not physically, but mentally.
“I’m sorry. I tried to save her, I did. I promise you! Please don’t hate me, Thorn. Please,” I beg, the tears finally falling. He looks away from me, his face a mask of bitterness, pain, and even self-loathing. No doubt he is blaming himself for not going back for her. But if anyone is to blame, it’s me.
“I don’t hate you. I never could, but I need some time.” He stands up and with every step he takes away from me, it’s a blow to my racing heart.
“I love you,” I whisper. I know he hears me because he flinches, but he doesn’t bother to turn around. Just slips inside, leaving me alone with my pain and regret.
Bleak and Beautiful
I don't crawl between Jax and Drax where they have clearly left an open spot for me, I don’t deserve their comfort. Instead, I curl up in the corner on top of my coat, my back to everyone. I can’t see Thorn, but I know he must be somewhere around here, the thought that he couldn't even be in the same room as me has the tears falling again; the pain shooting through me until I have to hold in a whimper by biting my arm. Slowly, as everyone else is asleep, I cry out my pain and rebuild myself once again. I let the pain and horror turn to hate and anger. It spurs me on, it follows me even into sleep, and I know for certain what I will do before I die. I will kill Ivar.
My sleep is restless, a mirage of horrors from my past running through my head like a fucked up film, the door that usually keeps them locked away from me stands thrown open, and I don’t know how to shut it. Eventually, I give up trying to sleep, I slip out of the break room where all my men except Thorn are sleeping. I pick my way through the others slumbering in the main room and ascend the metal staircase, slipping out of the door into the vantage point again. I find Dr. Perfect Face––I really should bother to remember his name sometime––leaning against the windows.
“The sand storm died?” I ask. He jumps and spins to face me with a scowl. I smirk at having got the drop on him and move to the windows to look out. The sand has settled, and I can see out into the Wastes now, even see the cars with a layer of dust on them not too far out. I feel him throwing looks at me, but I scan the horizon for any issues.
“What?” I eventually ask, breaking the tense silence.
“Why did you attack Derick?” he asks, and I sense no malice, only true curiosity.
“Huh, so that’s the pricks name?” I sigh, and lean against the railing and face him. “Because he attacked me, he felt challenged by me. If I hadn’t of won, we both know what he would have done to me.” He turns to face me and nods. “What, not going to try and deny it? To protect your friend?” I sneer.
“He’s not my friend, and what you said is the truth.” I raise my eyebrow at that, but he carries on talking. “What’s it like out here? I mean really like? I haven’t been out since they rescued me a couple of years ago, and before that, I lived in a little house with no one and nothing around.”
“It’s…” I try to think of a way to describe it. “It’s like the films you used to see on TV about war zones but more primal. It’s brutal, and everyone and everything is trying to kill you, so when you find something good, you hold on to it as hard as you can.”
“Those men, they your something good?” I sense no judgment; his face remains curious.
“They are the only good thing I have ever known,” I admit truthfully. Done with sharing, I straighten. “Better wake your people, we need to pack up and leave.”
I leave him there and descend back downstairs as people start to rouse, I ignore them, still feeling a bit sore from last night. Striding to the door, I pull it open and slip out, and let the silence soothe me. Stepping away from the building, I take in where we are, trying to pinpoint our location. The sun is just starting to rise, breaking over the horizon and bringing blistering heat with it. Walking a little away from the building I pee, and as I am buttoning my trousers, I hear a scream. Snapping my head up, I look around and frown when I don’t see anything. A scream comes again, from somewhere far into the Wastes. I break into a sprint and slam open the door to the building.
“We are leaving. Now!” I yell. Maxen stumbles out of the break room with my remaining weapons and possessions.
“What’s wrong, Mi Alma?” he asks, his eyes alert as he scans around.
“Cannibals. We need to leave before they get here.” He nods and jogs off to help people pack. We are out the door in five minutes, no time wasted as we jump into the vehicles and speed off. I am tense the whole time, looking through the back window until the building fades into the distance with Maxen gripping my thigh.
“Are we safe?” he asks, tense next to me.
“For now,” I reply.
The day is long and being stuck in a truck with big men makes it sweaty. It makes me miss my bike, I wonder what ever happened to it. Probably lost on the road. We stop again for the night, with only a day’s worth of travel to The Ring. This time, we aren’t as lucky to find a building, we camp behind an old road sign. Thorn hasn’t spoken to me all day, and I can feel the distance between us. The others keep throwing me looks, but I ignore them and decide to clean my weapons instead. I keep my back to the camp, uneasy about being out in the open with this many people, and the fire they insisted on lighting. It feels too much like tempting fate.
Maxen sits down next to me and begins to clean his own sword.
“Has a Summit ever been called before?” His voice soothes me as always, and I feel my shoulders dropping, the tension in my belly unfurling.
“Probably, I only remember one, when I was a slave. Ivar attended and chained me to his chair.” The truth flows out so easily now, and no shame fills my words. My past is just that, my past, a horror I survived, and I refuse to feel ashamed of that––especially around Maxen. He falters for only a moment, his hands stilling with the cloth on his blade before resuming.
“What was it called for?”
I look back at my sword. “Territory lines, Berserkers were claiming more from both Worshippers and Seekers. It didn’t end well, after a night of arguing and more death than I could count, they settled it in The Ring.”
Murmurs reach us from the people behind us, but I don’t turn around.
“I don’t know what has happened with Thorn. It is his and your business, if either of you want to tell us you are welcome to, but if not that’s fine too. Either way, it does not affect how the rest of us feel. “
His words stop me, he always knows what I need to hear. “He is your brother, your fam
ily…”
“And you are my heart. I could never choose between you, and he would not make me. I still see the love he has for you, he just needs some time. He is like that, if something is upsetting or hard, he retreats to think about it so he doesn’t say or do something he will regret. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care, in fact, it is the opposite, it means he cares a great deal.”
I stop cleaning and look at him. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime, Mi Alma. Whatever you need, I am here. I will never leave you, I will never betray you. It would be impossible, I might as well cut out my own heart. It only beats for you.”
A tension and stress I didn’t know I was carrying melts away. I guess my father’s appearance and betrayal, along with the argument with Thorn, has hit me more than I thought. I had started to distance myself from them so that they couldn’t hurt me. But that’s no way to live.
“I love you, Maxen. I know it might not always seem like I do, I don’t know how to give or receive affection. I am going to mess up, I’m going to test us and pull away. Promise me you won’t ever let me.”
Dropping his sword, he scoops me up like I weigh nothing and wraps me in his arms, his forehead on mine. “Never, Tazanna. I am never letting you go, for as long as I live on this Earth, you are mine.”
He kisses me gently, sealing his words. The kiss starts to slowly heat up, our tongues tangling as he grips me harder. He pulls back to nip at my lip, only to devour my mouth again. By the time the first scream reaches me, it’s too late.
Jumping off Maxen’s lap, I grab my swords, one in each hand and watch in shock at the deformed beings that materialise from the darkness, on all sides. In various stages of undress, their bodies more animal than human, they let out a scream that has terror racing down my spine. I have only met a cannibal once, it was hurt and had been left behind by its pack. It was still one of the hardest fights of my life, and surrounding us now, crouched to the floor and flashing their teeth at us, their eyes alight with pleasure, must be at least twenty of them.
Creatures that were human once and turned to eating their own kind to survive. The meat changed them, the first notable signs being the shakes, which grows to difficulty walking, poor coordination, and finally dementia and mood swings. They quite literally forget how to be human, and the ones surrounding us now are so far gone, they would rip into us in seconds. They wouldn’t even try to use weapons, just their teeth and hands.
The one closest to me is on all fours. Its hair is hanging down in a straggling mess as its blue eyes peer at me through it. Its mouth is stained with blood, and its teeth blackened and decayed. Its nails are long like claws, and shaped into points and other than some holey, dirty pants which look like they are about to fall off, it is naked. It watches me as I grip the sword and wait for them to make a move. Bursting into movement, almost too quick to see, the pack launches through the air at us, almost as one.
I roll under the leap of one and gut the one behind it, spinning I skewer the one flying through the air at me. Rolling over it, I use my momentum to free my sword and spin to face the next one. I hear the screams of the others, and the sound of fighting. But the noise of skin and muscle ripping and chomping also reaches me. Keeping my eyes alert, I search until I find the source, I have to quickly swallow bile as one of the guards from Paradise wails in terror as four cannibals rip him to shreds. I go to save him, but I know it’s too late when one lands on his stomach and rips it open and starts to eat the insides.
Sands below, I thought I had seen all the horror this world had to offer––I was wrong.
The Blame
Something lands on my back and I spin, throwing it off. The creature crouches in front of me, hissing before jumping at me again. I slide behind it and grab its hair, pulling it back and using my sword, I hack through its neck. Blood splatters on me as I turn, only to be knocked to the ground. My sword drops out of my hand to the ground near me.
The creature starts biting, trying to get to my unprotected throat. Gritting my teeth, I lock my arm in front of me and almost scream when it bites through my flesh. Scrambling through the dirt with my other hand looking for my sword, I start to panic when blood runs down my arm and drips on my face.
The creature’s eyes go wide before blood and brains rain down on me, its corpse slumping on my chest. Groaning, I push it off and roll, so I am crouching next to it, my arm still locked in its mouth in a death grip. Using my free hand, I open its mouth and rip my other arm out, wincing as agony tears through me.
With no time to waste, I jump up and turn to see Jax with my sword outstretched to me. I nod quickly and grab it, putting my back to his as we fight through the chaos.
By the time I realise there are no more cannibals to fight, I’m panting and leaning on my sword, which I had stabbed into the Earth. Bodies litter the ground, including some of our own.
“What was that?! Why didn’t you warn us?! This is your fault!” Derrick screams as he comes towards me. Flinging insult after insult at me until he is right in my face. Done with his shit, I grab my knife and hold it to his balls. Unlike Dray, his eyes go wide as his mouth flaps open helplessly until a little panicked squeak comes out.
“I tried to warn you. You wouldn’t listen, these lives are on your hands. You ever, and I mean ever, come at me like that again and I will rip your little cock off and shove it so far up your arse you won’t be able to get it out.” I twist my blade against his tiny cock. “Understand?” I demand as he arches on his tiptoes trying to relieve the pressure.
“Yes!” he cries out.
I let go and he stumbles back, looking at me with wide fear filled eyes.
“I am not who you should fear out here.” I turn my back on him and face the others. “From now on, you listen to me. You follow my orders to the fucking letter or I will kill you myself. If you want to live long enough to make it back home, I suggest you start learning how to defend yourself!” I shout. Shocked faces watch me, some injured, some covered in blood but all the exact same. They have seen the horrors this world had to offer, realised the nightmares exist, and now they are looking at me to save them from this darkness. They just don’t know I exist in it too.
“My Queen!” Vasilisy calls before falling to the ground in front of me, his sword in the dirt before him and his head touching the steel. It’s my turn to freeze in shock. What he is doing is the highest of honours and trust, reserved for the leader of the Berserkers. A true warrior. He is offering me his life––his sword.
“Get up. I am not him. I will fight by your side, but you will never live on your knees with me,” I plead, looking for a way out.
He raises his head. “I know. That is why I follow you, little queen.”
“Well, well, well. I thought we would let the eaters finish most of you off before we came to collect what’s ours,” comes a yell from next to us, echoing through the darkness.
Spinning, I groan at the three Berserkers grinning at the edge of our camp. Really, can’t we catch a break? The bigger guy at the front, with the longer braids and bright red hair, watches me hungrily. It’s obvious he knows who I am and if the evil glint in his eye is anything to go by, this is not going to go well.
“How about a game?” he sneers at me, the words echoing in my head as he rushes toward me. I try to fight the pull, but the memory is too strong, the last thing I see is the wicked smile of the Berserker bearing down on me.
“How about a little game, pet?”
My breathing picks up as Ivar’s voice brings me back around. My head hurts from the punch, which knocked me out, but I manage to crack open my eyes––only to wish I never had.
Five girls of all ages, not including me, are tied to the ceiling in a line. My hands are bolted to the chair, and Ivar stands in the middle of us grinning. Looking along the line, I spot at least two new slaves, one is a child, younger than me. She must be no older than twelve, and an older lady, at least fifty years old, Petal, and Tenessa who is a mid
dle aged woman. She has been with Ivar for a week now, and last but not least. Criena––the bitch herself.
“Ah, she’s finally awake so we can play!” he cries, rubbing his hands together.
I see the other girls’ eyes bulge in panic as they fight the restrains, the chains clinking and slithering along the floor like a snake.
Ivar steps into my field of vision, his crazed smile parting his square face. He was handsome once, that is clear to see, but along the way, he got hurt. A fire ravaged the left side of his face and broke something inside of him - twisting his soul until nothing but the monster before me was left. You can still see his handsome features, his corn blue eyes and long lashes, high arched cheekbones, and plump lips. His brown hair is tinted with age and reaches his lower back in honour braids, the longest of the Berserkers, and on top sits a metal crown, spiked and grey medieval like the man himself.
He wears no shirt, his wide powerful chest on display with his Berserker brand right in the middle. His leather pants creak as he moves, mixing with the sound of his many weapons hitting together.
“I have a new game, aren’t you curious?”
I don’t bother answering him, instead, I look straight ahead and try to calm the panic shaking through my skinny body. He carries on like it doesn’t matter than I am not participating, and to him it doesn’t. He will see the fear in my body, and in my eyes where I can’t hide it and he will feed off of it. Even now I see his eyes fill with glee.
“It’s a simple game, pet. I will ask if you would rather me do something to you or them.” He kneels in front of me, his hand landing on my bruised knee and twisting, making me bite my tongue to hold in my cry.
“Would you like an example?” he whispers, twisting my knee more. When he abruptly let’s go and stands, I sag in the chair I am sitting in, the pain already wracking my body. This is the third day in a row I have been left to his tender care, I don’t know how much more I can take.