Her Alpha Viking

by Sheryl Nantus

  Erik shook his head as he picked up a handful of hot sand.

  Nothing here on Earth can kill him.

  He glanced to the side where Kara and Brenna were engaged in battle, the clang of metal on wood almost as loud as the roaring coming from their attacker.

  Maybe…

  The man swung the ax again. Erik ducked under the wide swing and pitched the sand into the man’s face, provoking an angry scream. The ax dipped into the dirt as the giant raised one hand to try and clean his eyes.

  Now or never.

  Erik stood toe-to-toe with the berserker, delivering a series of punishing blows to the man’s midsection. He put all his force into the punches, using everything he had. Every strike, every hit, bought them time.

  This wasn’t Mad Matty, and there was no audience here to cheer him on. Only Brenna and the others, facing an evil he’d brought down on them.

  The giant sneered and delivered a backhand slap, sending him flying across the compound.

  Erik slammed into the side of the van, the impact knocking the air out of him.

  Jake moved in behind the madman, slamming the crowbar into the back of the berserker’s knees. The blow would have dropped lesser men, but the mammoth merely turned and glared at Jake.

  Jake jumped back as the warrior took hold of his ax again and advanced on the veteran.

  Erik got to his feet, feeling the pain in his lungs. He knew it all too well—fractured or broken ribs.

  He raised a hand, pushing through the nausea. “Jake. Jake!”

  Jake sprinted to one side and threw the crowbar over.

  Erik swung up with all his strength, driving the curved end under the man’s chin with a satisfying thud. It drove the berserker back a step, away from the dying fire.

  “Out of the way.” Jake lowered one shoulder and ran at the warrior, slamming into the furred back with a loud grunt. The berserker staggered forward, still gripping the ax.

  “Keep on him, keep him unbalanced! I’ve got an idea.”

  Jake growled as he leaped free, his shirt now smoldering in spots from the still-burning fur pelt. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  Erik bolted toward the two Valkyries, now fighting near the van where it’d all started.

  …

  There was no way she could win. She didn’t have her armor or her wings, and the staff was perilously close to breaking—she felt the wood bending and splintering in her grip. It was a weak substitute, only suitable for sparring.

  She couldn’t give up, not with the berserker rampaging through their site. The warrior wouldn’t stop until everyone around him was dead and then move on to the nearby campers. It was in his nature; it was what he lived for.

  Kara was smart to bring him to the battle—he could dispatch Brenna with his ax, sending her to Helheim since he was Odin’s representative.

  “You could have come home,” Kara said. She moved back, parrying Brenna’s strike with ease. “Instead, you’ll rot in Hel until Ragnarok, dishonored and alone. I hope it was worth it.” She glanced over Brenna’s shoulder. “I hope he was worth it.”

  “Yes.” Brenna couldn’t help smiling, her heart swelling with pride. “He was. And still is.” She dropped, channeling all her energy into a quick ground sweep.

  The action caught Kara by surprise, knocking her off her feet. Brenna followed with a strike, bringing the staff down hard.

  Kara brought up the lance, blocking her. The wooden bar flexed and bent, pressed to the edges of its abilities.

  A loud crack filled the air as it shattered in the center, leaving her with two pieces.

  Brenna retreated, twirling the batons in her hands.

  It was a last, desperate move to prolong the inevitable.

  Kara scrambled to her feet, grinning. “Not strong enough to stand up to the real thing.” She feinted with the lance, forcing Brenna back another step.

  An angry scream came from nearby—the berserker.

  Erik came around the van, to Kara’s left. He held a crowbar.

  Kara turned toward him, trying to get the spear point leveled at his chest, but it was too late.

  Erik swung at Kara’s arm, bringing the twisted metal bar down on her wrist.

  Brenna winced even though she knew the blow wouldn’t shatter the bone as it would if Kara were human.

  But it was effective, drawing attention away from Brenna.

  Kara yelled as she stabbed at Erik with uncanny speed, catching him off-guard.

  The point drove into his left shoulder—not a fatal wound but definitely incapacitating. He flinched but didn’t retreat, swinging the crowbar again and again at the spear, parrying every strike with a counter-attack.

  Brenna realized what he was doing, and her heart soared as she moved forward and aimed at Kara’s back, following up on Erik’s attack.

  This was their best option.

  She advanced, laying down a series of punishing strikes on Kara’s shoulders and arms. It wouldn’t kill her or even hurt her, but that didn’t matter.

  Caught between the two, the Valkyrie slowed and checked herself, spinning back and forth in her greed to deal damage to both her targets.

  Brenna delivered a sharp rap to Kara’s hands at the same time Erik stepped in and punched Kara hard, sending her head snapping to one side.

  The lance fell to the ground as Kara stepped back, throwing up her arms to defend herself.

  Brenna kept going, stepping over the fallen weapon. She couldn’t afford to let up on Kara, give her even the slightest chance of recovery.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Erik snatching the spear up.

  He looked at Brenna as another strangled cry went up from the campground—Lucy, screaming incoherently.

  “Go,” Brenna said. “Save the others. I’ll keep her here.”

  He hesitated, staring at her. She spied the confusion in his eyes, the battle between saving her and saving their friends tearing him up.

  She made the decision for them both.

  “Go,” she repeated. “They can’t hold him off much longer.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he shouted before ducking back around the van.

  Kara laughed as she took up a fighting stance, waving Brenna on. “I was hoping to kill him first, let you see him rise to the heavens, but I’m flexible.” She smirked. “Bring it, little sister. The berserker will do the job for both of us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The metal was warm to the touch, and a surge of heat shot up into his arm as he advanced on the berserker.

  He didn’t care. This spear was of the same world as the madman threatening his friends and likely the only thing that could take him down.

  Erik’s chest ached as he took in the scene. In the short time he’d spent away, the giant had managed to get hold of Jake somehow, flinging the man into the tents where he lay still midst the tangled and torn nylon.

  Lucy and Helen had retreated to stand in front of the injured Mark. Lucy held out her hunting knife, Helen the piece of firewood that set the bear pelt afire. The older woman’s eyes were unfocused, and she wavered from side to side, sign of a concussion she must have received earlier during the fight.

  Mark was silent, his head fallen forward on his chest. His hands lay limp in his lap, the blood still darkening his shirt and jeans.

  No.

  “No!” The berserker turned as Erik screamed, drawing his attention away from the women.

  Not again. Not today.

  The giant raised his ax and charged at Erik. The ground trembled as he ran through the ashes, the smoke from his burned fur casting an almost hypnotic haze over the scene.

  Not ever.

  Erik ran at him, brandishing the spear. It quivered in his grasp, and for a second, he thought he heard a high-pitched hum, a battle hymn. His thumb found the button, a slight indentation in the rod.

  The giant growled as he readied his ax, taking in the situation. The spear might have the longer range, but he had the
deadlier weapon.

  For a berserker, there was no choice.

  He didn’t slow down as he advanced on Erik, roaring his defiance.

  Erik heard the blood pounding in his ears. Only one chance and if he missed…

  He pressed the button as he dropped to his knees, sliding in the ashes and dirt. The spear collapsed down to the size of a walking stick, one end dragging beside him.

  The giant swung his ax over Erik’s head, narrowly missing him.

  Erik waited until he was almost touching the madman before jamming the end of the rod into the ground and pressing the button again.

  The top of the spear shot out, extending to its full length again. The sharp pointed head dug deep into the attacker’s chest before shooting through his body and out the other side—puncturing the bear pelt.

  The man’s eyes rolled up in his head.

  Erik ducked away from the fatal confrontation, leaving the impaled berserker there. The spear stayed firm in the soil, balanced against the huge body in a horrific tripod of flesh and steel.

  The man hung in the air for a few seconds, his feet barely touching the ground as he glared at Erik. The massive ax fell from his fingers. He let out a long, rumbling cry as his eyes rolled up, and he slumped against the spear, finally falling into the dirt. He rolled onto his back, the spear sticking straight into the air.

  “What the…” Lucy swallowed loudly. “What the fuck was that?” She grabbed Helen, both women on their knees. “What’s going on?” she demanded, her voice rising to a scream.

  Erik got to his feet, watching for any signs of life. He clutched his side, pain shooting through his lungs as he pushed through it and advanced on the body.

  He didn’t know if berserkers went back to Valhalla or not when they died. Hell, he wasn’t sure the man was really dead.

  The body simmered, as if becoming a pale reflection of itself. Pieces broke away, flying upward.

  Helen let out a grunt as she watched the man’s head dissolve, the rest of the body following. She put her hands on the ground, dropping the wooden club.

  The spear didn’t disappear. As the body evaporated, it fell away, thumping against the well-packed dirt.

  Erik moved in, watching carefully for any sign killing the berserker had damaged it in some way. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the still-warm shaft. Blood trickled from the tip—that hadn’t disappeared.

  “Erik!” Lucy screamed.

  The punch caught him in the side of his head, sending him sideways. He fell into the dirt, the world spinning as his ribs ached, the stabbing pain threatening to cut off his next breath.

  Kara snatched up the weapon and spun, her lips pulling away from her teeth in a sneer. “You might have bested my warrior, but you won’t escape me.” She hefted the spear in one hand as Erik struggled to sit up. “It’s time to go home.”

  He’d stared death in the face before and saw a beautiful woman in its place, offering him the chance to live.

  Now he glared at Kara as she threw the lance, the curses on his lips as he prepared himself to meet whoever was there on the Other Side.

  A flurry of movement caught his eye, jerking his attention away from the smiling Valkyrie.

  Brenna.

  She flew through the air, her jump taking her directly between Erik and the deadly spear.

  No.

  It sliced into Brenna’s belly, the momentum enough to send her crashing into the dirt beside him.

  No.

  He scrambled to reach her. Someone screamed, either Helen or Lucy.

  She clutched at the thick metal rod, gasping as she took in the fatal wound.

  “Brenna.” Erik gathered her into his arms, his sight blurred by tears. “Oh my God…”

  She touched his face with a trembling hand. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” A coughing fit racked her body, her lips turning scarlet as she coughed up blood.

  Erik snarled as Kara came closer. “I’m going to kill you.”

  The Valkyrie’s eyes went wide as she saw the damage her attack had caused. She bit her lip but stood firm over the pair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But you’re the ones who chose this path.” She took hold of the spear. “Forgive me, sister. I will pray for you while you suffer in Helheim.”

  “Don’t!” Erik yelled as she pulled the spear free, yanking it out of Brenna’s body.

  Brenna convulsed, her legs kicking out in the dirt. It took all he had to keep hold of her as she shook, her eyelids fluttering as she went into shock.

  “As soon as Erik is dispatched, I will send you to Helheim,” Kara said. “But out of respect for our sisterhood, I allow you to say goodbye and witness his leaving.”

  Brenna’s lips moved, blood trickling out of one side of her mouth.

  “I promise it’ll be fast.” Kara leveled the bloody weapon at him. “Let me finish this as it was supposed to be, a year ago.” She lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “Please.”

  “You send her back to Valhalla,” Erik growled. “You send her back and she’ll be okay.”

  “I can’t do that.” Kara shook her head. “I can only send you. She has her own fate, one I leave to others.”

  “Then to hell with you.” He kissed Brenna’s forehead. “To hell with all of you. Send me with her.”

  Kara drew back, frowning. “What?”

  “I want to go with her. She goes to Helheim, I go to Helheim.”

  “Not your decision,” Kara said, a tremble in her voice. “I can only send you to Valhalla.”

  “Then send me there so I can tear it down and make them throw me into Helheim.” Erik tore his shirt open, gasping at the pain as he cradled Brenna as tightly as he dared. “Do it. Then I’m going to destroy you and all your kind. I’ll rip down your walls, kick in your doors, and kill every one of you.”

  Kara hesitated, staring at him.

  “Do it,” he repeated. “Then get ready. Because Ragnarok has got nothing on what I’m going to do to you and everyone in Valhalla until I can be with her.”

  Kara pressed her lips into a tight line. “I understand your pain. I wouldn’t have chosen this for either of you. I have no choice.”

  The spear slammed into his chest, punching the breath from his lungs. He strengthened his grip on Brenna, not willing to let her go.

  Kara pulled the lance back out, the shock drawing him forward.

  “Erik.”

  Brenna’s soft whisper was more of a sigh, the life ebbing out of the two of them simultaneously.

  Erik entwined their fingers together.

  “Listen to me. Listen,” he rasped. “Wait for me. I’ll come to be with you. I’ll move heaven and earth, I’ll destroy everything in my way, I’ll take on Odin himself to make him send me to Helheim. Just hold on until I arrive. Then we’ll deal with anything they throw at us, anything they can think of. We’ll do it together with our love.”

  He kissed her with the last of his strength.

  Erik looked at Kara.

  “Finish it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Kara nodded and stretched out the lance again, but in place of the painful thrust he expected, it was a gentle, almost loving touch on his forehead. Blood dripped from the sharp edge, marking his skin.

  Erik swallowed hard, waiting.

  He didn’t sure what to expect. A chorus of angels singing him to a heavenly rest, wings to suddenly sprout from his shoulders…he remembered Scotty and April rising up.

  Nothing.

  Brenna shook in his arms, bleeding out from her wound. He felt her growing limp, the last of her life waning away. He leaned in and kissed her one last time, her lips going cold.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I will never, ever stay in Valhalla without you.”

  Kara frowned and laid the bloody spear tip on his forehead again.

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured.

  “It’s not your place to.” The voice came from his right, a soothing low femin
ine voice.

  Kara’s gaze flashed upward.

  She flinched and dropped to her knees, letting go of the spear. It clattered on the ground.

  A woman moved into his sight, her long flowing robes shimmering with rainbow colors. Her blonde hair was pulled into two braids, one on each side of her face.

  Erik blinked.

  The pain in his chest was gone, the rattling in his lungs as well, just like it’d been back on the battlefield when he’d first met Brenna.

  “Freyja,” he said.

  She tilted her head and smiled at him. “Erik Harrison. I’m pleased to meet you, after all this time.” She stretched out her hand and touched his forehead.

  He gasped, every nerve in his body catching fire at once. Then the pain was gone, leaving him with only a faint memory. The bones knitted together, healing as a coolness crept through him, rising and then vanishing as it repaired the damage done by Kara and her berserker.

  “There.” Freyja dropped her hand, the long slender fingers brushing over Brenna’s forehead with the same gentle gesture. “Wake up, little one.”

  Brenna gasped and arched against Erik. He grabbed at her instinctively, keeping hold.

  She turned her face and stared at him.

  He smiled, drawing his fingertips down her face, not sure what to say.

  Brenna turned her gaze on Freyja.

  “Mother.” She let out her breath slowly, her grip on Erik’s hand tightening. “You came.”

  “Of course I did.” Freyja frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Kara remained on her knees, her gaze firmly fixed on the ground. “Mother, I’ve done as you asked. I found them, and now I’ll take what was denied us.”

  “So you say.” The tone grew icy. “By bringing a berserker, one of the fiercest men in the Great Halls, and setting him loose in Midgard.”

  “It was necessary,” Kara said. “When Brenna broke faith with us and decided to be with him, I felt it was needed for me to complete my mission.”

  “Your mission,” Freyja repeated. “Your mission was to restore the balance. I said nothing about unleashing the warrior among them.” She waved her hand around. “Witness what that single, horrible decision has wrought.”