by Lee Savino
“Stop.” I found myself on my feet. “These men are friends. They aided me.”
“Then the spell worked? Did you find him?” Several witches spoke at once. Not the ancient one, who only studied me with beady eyes.
“I did. I faced the Corpse King, and survived, thanks to these men.” Despite his wounds, Tristan rose at my side. Ivar and Lars helped each other up. “They helped me escape the mage’s magic.”
The ancient witch approached. Tristan started to insert himself between us and I stopped him. For a moment the crone only studied me, then nodded once. Satisfied, she turned and walked away.
“You have the spell?” Sabine asked.
I nodded and let myself lean on Tristan. My palms burned where I’d clutched the stone and thrust it into the Corpse King’s heart. The lore told of the spaewife who bound the mage for a thousand years, and now I knew the truth.
It was me.
“I have the spell,” I let the wind carry my voice to all my sisters. “I know how to defeat him.”
THE END
Author’s Note
Hey, Lee here. When I first wrote the book, it ended here, but I asked the characters to give me an epilogue, and they did! It’s coming up in a moment, but first a little author’s note.
The Berserker saga will span over several more books. I follow the story where it leads. I didn’t even plan on Yseult getting a book! She and her warriors have a role to play in the final battle with the Corpse King, but so do many other spaewives who haven’t been introduced yet. Each book focuses on the romance of one heroine and her Berserker warriors.
I’m having a baby April 2018, but will write like mad every chance I get to give you the following books:
Owned by the Berserkers
Tamed by the Berserkers
Trained by the Berserkers
Protected by the Berserkers
Surrendered to the Berserkers
Mastered by the Berserkers
Read the all the Berserker books so far:
Sold to the Berserkers – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Mated to the Berserkers – – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Bred by the Berserkers (FREE novella available only by signing up to my email list) – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Taken by the Berserkers– Sabine, Ragnvald & Maddox
A Berserker Birth novella (available only by signing up to my email list)
Given to the Berserkers – Muriel and her mates
Claimed by the Berserkers – – Fleur and her mates
The Berserker Brides
Rescued by the Berserker – FREE – Hazel & Knut
Captured by the Berserkers – Willow, Leif & Brokk
Kidnapped by the Berserkers – Sage, Thorbjorn & Rolf
Bonded to the Berserkers – Laurel, Haakon & Ulf
Berserker Babies – the sisters Brenna, Sabine, Muriel, Fleur, and their mates
And now… the epilogue!!!
Epilogue
Yseult
Over the years, I’d traveled far and wide, but a simple cave was my home. It was deep within the Earth, guarded by much magic.
I invited my sisters to journey there from the moor so we could speak in safety. I wished I could rest and hide away, like a creature weakened by a predator hides to heal. As if sensing this,
My warriors aligned themselves around me, a fearsome honor guard. I noted Sabine’s mates did the same, though when their paths grew close to my four, they gave each other respectful nods. They did not, however, take their hands from their weapons.
When we came to my dwelling, I felt a rush of panic. I’d spent many years layering the wards, but now, with my magic stripped, would they recognize me?
“It’s all right, child,” The crone was suddenly at my side. She had disappeared on the walk—I had looked for her. Of all my sisters, I most wished to speak to her.
She nodded to the hillock that hid my cave’s entrance. “Approach as you would.”
Bidding my retinue wait, I continued on unsteady feet. A harsh second, and the ground yawned before me, a tunnel leading into the hill. As I stepped by to let the group pass, the crone hung back to tell me, “Well done, child.”
I stiffened to hide my shaking. I did not feel my power as before, but it seemed to be there, lying still, but deep and vast, a somnolent sea.
“My lady,” Tristan drew close and took my elbow.
“I am fine.”
His tight smile told me he knew I was lying. A low order, and his captains took up the rear of the group, along with Sabine’s mates.
“We will post a guard,” he said, and shook his head before I could protest that my wards would hold. “One of us and one of them.”
Frowning, I plucked at his filthy armor. My hand reached the skin underneath. It was warm and smooth. His wounds had healed. “Berserker magic,” I muttered, though perhaps my sisters had quietly helped. I was glad of it, but I wished I could’ve been the one to heal them.
“We are fine, lady. Let us do our duty.”
I sighed. I was not used to having protectors, but it seemed, now I did.
As my sisters filled my hall, Sabine headed to the hearth. Because of her training, she’d been here many times, and would know what to do to make all welcome. She directed a few novices to serve food and drink, starting with my warriors. I waved away everything until Tristan knelt at my side with a cup and would not take food himself until I drank.
My face and body remained composed, even as whispers floated around the room. My sisters wondered what had happened, why my visage was so changed, and why I had returned with mates.
I sipped from my cup, my other hand trembling under the robe Tristan placed on my shoulders. To all in my time, I was the powerful witch Yseult. The spell had brought me down to the level of a novice, but I would not show weakness. Not if I could help it.
The crone watched all of this from a corner, perched like a raven on a large barrel. Nothing escaped her beady black eyes.
Tristan remained close, almost pressed to my side, as if he sensed my distress. He was still in his armor, though he’d washed his face and hands, and cleaned away the traces of battle.
At last, I set the cup down and laced my fingers together. There, with my sisters ranged about the fire, I told the whole story.
“It is done,” a novice breathed at the end.
“Not quite,” an elder answered. “She bound him in that time. The spell lasted for a thousand years and has now worn off. We must face the mage again.”
“You were the spaewife who first bound him?” another asked.
I nodded. “In that time, I had no magic. My spaewife abilities returned.”
“Has your magic returned?” For a moment I hated the novice, even though she’d only asked what was on every one of my sister’s minds.
“Returned?” cackled the crone. “Why should it return? It never left.” Her black eyes fixed on me. “She is a spaewife, and a witch.”
“Not quite,” I said. “My powers are different.”
“Changed. Not less.” The crone slipped from her seat. “Enough. We have much to do. We must find the moonstone and plan a way to approach the mage to cast the spell. Not you,” she put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder, and though he blinked in surprise, he allowed it. “You have done much. You must rest.”
My sisters all rose, fluttering about like hens.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Sabine asked, and I thanked her.
“We will return,” her mates told Tristan. “We will be keeping watch of this place while you rest. In a few days, we wish you to join us on a hunt.”
My mate agreed.
“Yseult,” the crone called me, and though her voice was soft, I heard it sharply. “I wish to speak to you. Alone.” She held up a hand when Tristan hovered at my shoulder. “I will not harm your lady. I give you my word, commander.”
Tristan bowed. “I will speak to my men.”
I watched him stride away, strong a
nd powerful, even in my small home.
One by one the witches left. I waited until the last had gone, and then sank down to the hearth.
The crone prodded my hand with a cup. “Drink this.”
I did and sucked in a breath at the rush of energy that followed.
“My own brew.” She winked at me with her raven black eyes. “So, Yseult. You faced the mad king and saved your Berserkers, all without your powers.”
“Not by choice.” I met her gaze. “You knew all along?”
She shrugged. “The Corpse King would not allow a powerful witch to approach him. Only a maid, weak and lowly, could get close enough to destroy him.”
“Then it was your intent all along. You wove the spell.” I set the cup down. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“If I had, would you have gone? Given up your powers and gone on despite it?”
I pressed my lips together. I truly didn’t know.
She cackled and patted my hand. “What’s done is done. You did well, child.”
“There is still a job to be done.”
“And it will be done. You have shown us the way. You may well be the one to bind him again.”
I nodded. “I must be ready. I must work to regain my power.”
“You have power, child. You are a spaewife. You had it all along.”
“I rejected that path when I became a witch.”
“Yes, but the Goddess had another plan. You sought a way to make yourself strong, strong enough to fight a man and rule over him.”
“That is not why I chose the path,” I protested.
“It doesn’t matter. You did not need the witch’s path to do that. Perhaps you can have both.” A smile stretched her ugly, wrinkled face.
A clink of swords, and I looked up as four large warriors strode in. The smell of roasted meat wafted with them. Magnus brought up the rear, still tearing at leg of meat.
My shoulders slumped. I had not even thought to feed them.
“They are men, not boys. They can hunt for themselves.” The crone rose and faced Tristan. “We will want to examine you, later. See if there are any lingering effects of the spell. But first we will let you rest.”
I followed the ancient witch to the mouth of my cave.
“Go to them. They are fed and rested, but still hungry for you.” She gave me a slight push, when I looked back over my shoulder in the direction she left, I was alone.
I ambled back inside and stopped short as the giant warriors turned as one to me.
“Lady,” Ivar said softly, and I realized I’d been staring at them. I had never brought a man into my home. Now I had four.
I cleared my throat. “There are pools deeper in the caves, if you wish to bathe.”
“Do you wish us to bathe?” Ivar asked.
Lars slapped his shoulder. “She’s trying to tell us we stink.”
“Speak for yourself,” Ivar shook off his hand. “I smell like a man.”
“Perhaps she likes our scent, but simply wishes to strip us of our armor,” joked Lars.
I flushed like a maid at their teasing.
“I know I stink,” Magnus said. He ripped the last of the meat off the bone. I opened my mouth to tell him how to dispose of the bone, but he tossed it to the floor.
“You’re a pig,” Ivar told him.
Magnus shrugged.
“Enough,” Tristan ordered. “Let us do as our lady bids.”
“Wait,” I cleared my throat. “I have to tell you something. I have never taken a man back into my quarters. My home, I mean. You are the first.”
“We are the only men to come here?” Lars grinned.
“Yes.” I blushed again. To everyone else, I was a powerful witch. To these men, I would always feel like a maid on the eve of becoming a woman.
Tristan moved first.
“We are honored, lady. What can we do to set you at ease? We are yours to command.”
I smiled shakily. “You should bathe. And dress. I can find clothes for this age. I can tell you many things of what has gone before this time, between my life and yours.”
“A thousand years of history,” Tristan said thoughtfully. “That will take many nights.”
“Not how I’d choose to spend them,” Lars grumbled.
“Oh, Goddess,” I raised my hands to my face.
“What about you, Yseult?” Ivar asked.
I lowered my hands but kept them covering my bright cheeks. “Me?”
“We had one night, lady. We’ve known you a day. We wish to know more about you.”
I sank into a chair.
“Enough. All of that can wait,” Tristan said, and crouched down beside me. “You are tired, lady.”
“A little. It’s been a long day.”
“We will rest,” Tristan said.
“All of us?” Lars asked.
“All but one. The one will remain with our lady. Alone.”
“I’m not tired,” Magnus said.
“Alone?” Lars perked up.
“One at a time,” Tristan repeated firmly.
“Is this acceptable, lady?” Ivar asked.
“Yes, that would be good.” I said in a shaky rush of breath.
“Right. Then me first.” Lars said, removing his helm.
“What?” Magnus said. “Why you?”
“Because I am the youngest. And of all of us, I have had the pleasure of making our lady laugh.”
His bold proclamation brought an easy smile to my lips.
“He’s right,” Ivar said.
“Then it’s settled,” Tristan said. “Where will be our quarters?” I pointed to a storeroom and showed them the shelves of extra furs. We would have to find a larger sleeping chamber. Later. After I figured out how to live with four giant warrior men.
How would I feed them all? Where would we sleep?
“Thank you, lady,” Tristan murmured.
“Thank you,” Ivar and Magnus added, bowing to me. Tears pricked my eyes. I’d found these men to almost just lose them. Even now, we had dangers to face. Who knew what the future held.
“Don’t cry, Yseult,” Lars took my hand and kissed it, ever the charmer. “We have but one night, but after your time with my warrior brothers, I will return.”
“You will not have her the whole night,” Magnus growled. “I need little sleep.”
“It will not take me a night to spoil her for all others.”
Barking a laugh, Magnus went into the storeroom. I caught Ivar winking at me just before Tristan shut the door.
“Finally,” Lars turned with a grin. He’d stripped off his armor and was tying back his hair. “It’s only us.”
“Yes.”
“You’re shaking.” Frowning, he led me to the fire.
“It’s not that.” I rubbed my face. “I’m not cold.”
“Lady, you have no need to fear us.”
“I know that. I know. I just…”
He hushed me and pulled me down to the rug before the hearth, drawing a robe over us. “Sleep, lady. I will watch over you.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “I am used to guarding my back. I am used to being alone.”
He spent some time stroking the hair from my face. “Perhaps you have been alone too long.”
“I—”
But he stopped me with a kiss, gentle and chaste, and turned me on my side before him, one strong arm pulling my back to his front. “Sleep now.”
Mercifully, I did.
But then I dreamed. There the Corpse King chased me, his skeletal hands grasping. Round and round we went, as the Berserkers lay in a field of blood.
“Yseult, Yseult,” someone shook me. I came awake with a cry.
The fire had burned down to embers. Ivar leaned over me, his face somber. He cradled my head and set a cup to my lips. After I drank, he drew me into his arms, and kept me there while I pressed my face to his neck and cried.
“Sweet Yseult,” he stroked my back. “Tell me your dreams.
”
I shuddered. I hadn’t cried so hard since my training as a novice. “I dreamed your deaths.” I couldn’t say more than that; it was too awful. Ivar nodded as if he knew.
“I wish to bathe. Will you show me how?”
At last, something I could do. Taking a torch, I led him through the cave to a special place I’d found where hot springs bubbled from the Earth.
“This is why I made my home here.”
“You lived here alone?”
“Since I left the novices and made my own path as a witch.”
“I see.” He crouched and tested the water, then stripped off his clothes. I caught my breath at the rippling muscles of his back and swayed on my feet as he turned and came toward me. He didn’t seem to notice my shock and desire. “I’m going to wash you now.” He waited for me to nod, then helped me off with my shift and led me by the hand into the water.
There I stood shyly, head bowed, as he ran a cloth all over my body. He took his time.
“Ivar,” I pressed myself against him.
Dipping his head, his mouth caught mine. My arms twined around his shoulders and we drank deeply of each other until someone cleared his throat nearby.
I stepped back, startled, to see Tristan waiting on the edge of the pool.
With a rueful grin, Ivar stepped back. “My time is over.”
A sigh escaped me as the warrior strode away. Drops of water beaded on his bronze skin, rolling down his back to the dimples between his hips, down the cleft of his ass.
Tristan cleared his throat again. “Feeling better?”
“I am. I recommend a bath.”
“Hmmm.” He started stripping off his clothes. “The last time I bathed, I was interrupted.”
“Such rudeness. I can’t imagine.”
“Yes, well, the sight of a pretty maid
“A maid?” I raised a brow. “Not a lady?”
“Both.”
I pushed him away. “We have things to discuss.”
“Oh?”