Siebold

by Lee Savino

  My power had lowered us gently to the ground.

  There were leaves and twigs in my hair. My hands shook. I held them in front of me and marveled. My dark skin was tinged with gold.

  I felt hollowed out, scoured clean as a vessel of magic. But when I looked inside, my power was there. An endless well. It would always be there, ready to come when I called.

  In the center of the circle, a man lay on the burned ground. His hair and beard were a bit singed but he was a man. All man. All mine. My Siebold.

  He opened his eyes and smiled. He opened his arms and I went to him, draping myself over him. My head tucked under his chin, fitting perfectly. Siebold lifted a hand to stroke my hair and I let him.

  “You’re back,” I murmured. He was a man again. I sensed his monstrous form deep inside, but it was calm. Quiet. A predator well-fed and sated.

  “Yes. The beast sleeps.” He shifted me in his arms and pulled a singed leaf from my hair, crumpling it in his palm before letting the wind blow the pieces away.

  After a while he said, “You lied to me.”

  I raised my head. He greeted me with a lazy smile. “You told me you couldn’t tame a wild wolf.”

  I chuckled and lay back down, resting my head in the hollow of his chest where his coarse blond hair tickled my cheek. His heart beat strong and steady under my ear. “I didn’t tame the wolf. I simply loved him.”

  28

  Siebold

  Meadhan and I laid in the forest, bare to the midnight moon. I’d brought her to climax after climax. Now she clung to me. And I to her.

  Her pulse pounded against my cheek. I turned my face, my nose met with the perfect skin of her neck. It beckoned to me.

  My fangs lengthened, my mouth watering to have more of her, all of her. Her dark eyes flashed at me in the moonlight. I held my breath with great difficulty.

  I had already marked her. But I needed to do it again. And likely again after that. The question was would I need to hold her down to give it to her? Or would she accept my claim without a fight?

  She gave a long sigh. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She turned her face to the side… exposing her neck.

  A good man would ask if she was sure. A good man would be gentle.

  Meadhan’s gaze flicked open for a second. Her brow quirked as though she knew what I was thinking. Her lip curled. She knew exactly what and who I was.

  I was not a good man. I was a beast. A beast she accepted as her own.

  I asked nothing. My bite struck hard. She cried out in a scream of agony that ended in the deepest pleasure. And then she was wholly mine.

  29

  Meadhan

  Dawn crept up on us, filling the forest with reddish light. Siebold and I rose and walked slowly back to my hut, hand in hand.

  His bite burned my flesh, searing his mark into me forever. I could no longer hide what I was, who I was. I was a witch, a being of great power, and I belonged to the beast.

  We reached my garden and I quickened my steps. “I will pack. We need to go.”

  Siebold didn't ask me why. He knew as well as I that Offa’s men would return in greater numbers. Silently he helped me roll my quilts and wrap up the vials filled with my best herbal remedies so they could be easily carried.

  I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he moved with fluid grace beside me. His body was no longer monstrous, but that of a well-formed man. He looked at home in my hut, but it struck me odd that such a beautiful man wanted to belong to me.

  I swallowed several times, staring at the hearth as I asked, “You will come with me?”

  Instantly Siebold dropped the jug he was wrapping and pulled me into his arms. My palms rested on his chest, my fingers threading through the coarse golden hair.

  “You are mine, Meadhan,” he dipped his forehead to touch mine. “And I am yours. Wherever you go I will be by your side.”

  Close as we were, his hard cock pressed into my leg. It distracted me. My honeyed scent swirled around us, making Siebold’s eyes flare gold.

  I opened my mouth to speak--and heard the crash of the garden gate. Siebold was out the door in an instant, with me not far behind.

  “Siebold, no, it’s Dafydd!”

  Siebold had the boy by the scruff of the neck, holding him aloft like a recalcitrant kitten.

  “Mistress Meadhan,” the boy exclaimed, staring into the warrior’s golden eyes.

  “It’s all right,” I hastened to Siebold’s side. “He won’t hurt you. Siebold.” I laid my hand on the warrior’s rigid arm. “Siebold, let him down.”

  Siebold lowered the boy to the ground but kept himself between me and the boy.

  He’s a child, I said to Siebold.

  Children see more than we want them to see, Siebold warned, even as the boy spoke up.

  “’E’s the wolf?” Dafydd asked.

  I sighed. No use denying it any longer. “Yes.”

  “’E’s the monster they’re talking about, then.” The boy squinted at Siebold.

  Siebold and I exchanged a look.

  Dafydd glanced around, taking in my pack and rolled quilt. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes,” I started to explain but the boy burst out.

  “You can’t! Offa’s come. ’E’s at the village now.”

  “That is why we must go.”

  “They hurt Mistress Donna,” Dafydd burst out.

  I froze. “What?”

  “They took her sons. Said they must help fight the witch and demon beast.” Dafydd looked up at Siebold and sniffed. “Demon beast. That’s you.”

  “Dafydd,” I leaned down to the boy’s eye level. “Tell me what happened.” Up close I could tell the boy had bruises under the dirt on his face, but whether they were old or new I couldn't tell.

  “She sent me to warn you,” Dafydd said.

  “Mistress Donna?”

  “They came to her house. Pounded on the door and asked for her sons. Any able bodied man,” he pronounced carefully as if repeating the summons. “She told them off, she did. That’s when they hit her.”

  I sucked in a breath, my stomach flipping. Short and pale skinned, Mistress Donna reminded me of my mother.

  “Go on,” Siebold ordered Dafydd, even as he put his hand on my arm to steady me.

  “They hit her and she fell. That’s when her sons came out. They fought Offa’s men but there were too many. They drug them away. But they didn’t notice me,” he announced proudly. “I helped Mistress Donna up. She said to run and get you.”

  “They’s gathering all the men. Said they'll make an army. The blacksmith wouldn’t come, but they took his daughter and set fire to his forge. So he went too. I’m too little, they don’t want me.” He wiped his nose, signaling an end to his narrative.

  I stood frozen. What do we do? Do we go or do we run?

  Siebold’s hand cupped my elbow. He dipped his head to my ear. “We should go. We can take the boy.”

  “I can’t leave,” I whispered. Then, louder, “I won’t leave.”

  Siebold’s eyes blazed, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment. He cocked his head to the side, studying me. “You would risk your life for these villagers?”

  Just like that, I was decided. “I’m the only one who can save them.” I put a hand to Siebold’s cheek. “Will you help me?”

  He tilted his head, pressing into my palm. “I told you before. Where you go, I go. I will always be by your side.”

  I held his face a moment before turning to Dafydd. “Where is Offa? Can you show me?”

  The boy gulped and nodded.

  I grabbed a cloak and shrugged into it. I already wore my boots and a traveling gown. Siebold strapped a knife to his thigh and shouldered an axe.

  “Let us go,” I ordered. The three of us set off into the forest.

  The time for hiding was over.

  30

  Siebold

  The boy led us down the forest path to the place of the market. Before we could break from the fore
st, I held out my hand, forcing both Meadhan and Dafydd to stop.

  “Wait here,” I told them, and Changed into the wolf. The boy gasped but I ignored it. I lowered my head and followed the stench of strange men to the flower filled meadow where Meadhan had once had a stall.

  The clearing was transformed. Gone were the stalls, destroyed and broken apart to feed a massive bonfire. An army of men trampled the flowers, laying waste to the meadow. Under their boots it’d become a morass of piss and mud.

  The field reeked of violence and anger. Every man held a weapon and stank of bloodlust.

  I looked my fill and loped back the way I came.

  “They’ve taken over the market area,” I told Meadhan after I Changed back. The boy stared as I retied my leather loincloth and refastened my long knife to my thigh before picking up my axe.

  “How many?” Meadhan asked. Her face was calm, but I knew she trembled under her cloak.

  “Five score,” I shrugged. “Perhaps more.”

  “You going to fight them?” Dafydd asked me eagerly.

  I tilted my head and smiled. “If my lady so wishes.”

  Meadhan snorted. “You’re not in armor.”

  “Don’t need armor,” I told him. “I’m a Berserker.”

  Dafydd wrinkled his nose, thinking this over.

  “Dafydd,” Meadhan interrupted. “I need you to run and get Mistress Donna. Make sure the men don’t see you, but rescue her and hide her away. Can you do that?”

  A nod.

  “Good lad,” I handed him my long knife. “Be safe.”

  The boy looked delighted by my knife, but Meadhan pressed her lips together, her face troubled as she watched Dafydd go.

  Once he was gone, she whirled on me. “He’s just a boy.”

  “He’s the same age you were when you watched your mother die,” I said, and caught her in my arms when she wilted. “Forgive me, Meadhan.”

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s true. Dafydd is brave. He is willing to rush into danger. He should be armed.”

  “He will be all right.”

  “Only if we stop Offa.” She turned her head towards the field. Smoke rose, tinging the sky with grey.

  I held my woman’s small body against mine, feeling her shake. She was afraid.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t have to face them.”

  She raised her face to mine. “Yes, I do.” She pulled away, tugging at her cloak. “I must.”

  I caught her chin in my fingers. “I will be by your side. You are not alone.”

  “I know.” She blew out a breath. “It will end now. One way or another, it ends.”

  31

  Meadhan

  I strode to the edge of the forest and my feet faltered. The field was full of men. As Siebold reported, they’d torn down the stalls and used the scraps to erect a platform erected for their leader. Offa the Bloody was short and squat and grizzled. But he had an air about him that made men follow the orders he barked from his dais. Beside him stood Father Gerald. The priest was clad in his long robes, hands folded piously before his rotund stomach.

  The rest of the men milled around. Some were drinking. Others laughed and talked, honing their weapons. Others went to and fro, obeying Offa’s bidding. I craned my neck, rising to tiptoe, but then the wind shifted and brought a stench that told me everything.

  They were building a bonfire.

  I stumbled back, throat raw, eyes watering. Siebold, I reached out mentally.

  I’m here. The warrior was at my back, steadying me.

  Together we slipped around the edge of the field, walking closer to the village. From this vantage point I could see what Offa planned. They’d built the platform between the marketplace and the village. Most of the men waited in the field, but a few gangs had entered the village. The smithy was burning. As I watched, men restrained Gruffudd, the blacksmith, who bellowed and fought. There were too many for him. Offa’s men laughed and taunted. Beside the burning building, the cow had been lead out of its pen and butchered. In the pen now were two huddled forms I recognized. Alys and Eira, the young girls I’d often seen at market. They hugged each other, crying, standing in the middle of the pen, their faces averted from the men jeering at them.

  A loud voice carried to me on the edge of the field. Cynog stood at the foot of the platform, shouting up at Offa, arguing. To the side, I saw another knot of Offa’s mercenaries. These guarded a few more prisoners, men I recognized as villagers. One of them was Alwyn, face bruised and forehead bloody.

  It was as Dafydd reported. They’d come for Alwyn. Mistress Donna had protested and they’d struck her down. Alwyn had fought, but they’d taken him, and his brothers, anyway.

  As I watched, Cynog found his argument ended when Offa waved a hand. Men dragged Cynog away even as he still protested.

  “The time has come. We’ve gathered here to free this land from evil,” the priest announced. “There is wickedness that ferments in this village. You allowed the evil in, but today we will cast it out.

  “Bring me the beast. I want its head.”

  At my side, Siebold growled.

  Steady, I ordered. Hold.

  “The ones to slay it--” Offa pointed to the pen where Alys and Eira huddled together, “will have first pick of the women.”

  A cheer went up. “Kill the witch! Kill the beast!” Men raised their weapons. They threw their jugs of mead on the fire and whooped as the flames roared higher.

  Another bonfire was growing inside me. It spread through my limbs. My spine straightened, my arms stretched out at my sides, palms out. Overhead, a storm was brewing. Thunder rumbled, but the men cheering in the field didn’t notice. Soon they would rush the forest to look for monsters.

  “Meadhan?” Siebold’s voice was thickened. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his giant, hunched form. Not quite man, not quite beast. He was every bit the monster they would name him.

  But he was not a monster anymore. Not to me. The only monsters were here before me, celebrating while the women they would rape later cried in a cattle pen.

  Enough was enough.

  “Now.” I strode from the forest. The wind hit my back. Not yet, I whispered to my power. She moved in me, a beast made of light, a golden wolf of my own.

  A group of men raised their heads as I passed. A few stared and pointed, but no one came to approach until we were halfway across the field.

  “Hey,” one shouted. At my side, Siebold snarled.

  A murmur moved through the crowd. “It’s him! It’s the beast!”

  On their platform, Offa and the priest snapped their heads in our direction.

  I let the hood of my cloak fall back. My hair sprung out, a living thing, a soft brown halo. Men were edging closer, holding weapons. Siebold let loose a growl that shook the earth. The mercenaries shouted, but fell back. Now that they saw him in broad daylight, none were drunk enough to rush the monster.

  “Offa, you have laid claim to this valley. None dare stand against you. But I do. I challenge you.”

  “Who are you?” Offa had drawn his sword. His face was flushed, but he didn’t lack bravery.

  “I am Mistress Meadhan.”

  Father Gerald dipped close to Offa, whispering in the leader’s ear. Spewing poison, calling me a witch. Offa’s eyes narrowed.

  “I am here to protect this village,” I said. “I will defend it by any means necessary. I’ll show you and your men mercy if you leave. Now.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Then I will show you what I am.”

  “I know what you are,” Offa spat. “A witch woman. Pitiful. Hiding in the forest, luring small children to your home to eat.”

  Cannibalism? That was new.

  “I am here to protect this village,” I repeated. “I don’t eat children. I am guilty of no crime. But if you do not leave now, you will die.”

  “Now,” Offa shouted, but not to me. His men rushed forward, a wall of would-be rapists,
dirty weapons raised high.

  Siebold roared and charged into the fray. He was a blond blur, sending his axe spinning through the enemy. Blood sprayed. He fought and fought and fought while I waited and prayed.

  For a moment it seemed the battle would be won. I stood untouched in a red circle, the outer rim marked by bodies and torn limbs.

  But still the men came. There were so many. For every man that fell, ten more pushed forward to take his place.

  On the platform, Offa waved a hand, and a group of men detached. They went to Alwyn and Gruffudd the blacksmith, wrestling them down and putting blades to their throats. More ran to the cattle pen, where Alys and Eira shrieked and clung to each other, crying anew.

  “You protect this village?” Offa shouted across the field to me. “Watch them die.” He lifted his arm in the air. When it came down, my friends would die.

  Siebold bellowed but he was overwhelmed. He could not kill them all. Not quickly enough. If I did not act now, Offa’s men would slaughter everyone I knew. Then his men would run into the village and kill everyone they found.

  It was time to show them all who I was.

  I raised my arms. Lightning crackled to earth and struck my palms. I called the power, and it came. A rushing wave roaring behind me, crashing through the forest, rising as a massive wall, tall enough to cast a shadow over the meadow and blot out the sun.

  Men turned up their faces to the darkening sun and cried out.

  The power rolled and bounced under me. My feet left the earth. I hung in the air, arms extended. A flick of my fingers, and the men holding Alwyn and Gruffudd fell to the ground, clutching their throats. Another flick and the men around Siebold were blasted backwards.

  “You wanted to know what I am? Look to me and behold the truth.” My voice was a terrible thing. I shoved the air in front of me and lightning struck the men trying to get to Alys and Eira.

  “See me. See me and despair.” Wind whipped the earth, dust rising. I pointed to the dais where Offa stood. He and the priest flung himself off the platform a second before it exploded. Father Gerald scrambled to his feet and raced into the village, disappearing.