The Berserker Brides Saga

by Lee Savino

  “Red blood, dead blood,” a whispered chant came from behind the stone.

  Rolf jerked away from the pile of gifts as the shadows shifted and a hunched creature appeared.

  The ancient thing crept up, a scrawny arm and a cup extended.

  Silently, I held my arm over the cup and let her catch my blood until the cut healed. I lowered my dagger, but didn’t put it away.

  The witch sang her macabre song as she swirled the cup. She sipped a little of the contents, and smacked her lips.

  “I have tasted you before, wolfkin.”

  “I have aided you, and now need two favors in return. We seek a healing potion for our woman and a safe place to hide.”

  “Oh,” the witch crooned, and approached Rolf. He allowed himself one step backwards before making himself stand for her inspection. She sniffed the air once, twice, and shook her head. “You smell of a witch.”

  A growl built low in Rolf’s throat.

  “He’s not the one who’s ill,” I said to the witch. “Look to the girl.” It’s all right, Rolf. If the witch tries anything, I’ll kill her.

  The witch bent close to Sage.

  “Smells of sweet magic, this one.” The witch passed a tattooed hand through the air over Sage’s still face. The girl started to cough, but didn’t open her eyes.

  Rolf retreated, cuddling Sage to his chest. “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing I cannot cure. She has an evil spirit in her lungs. The mist—the ancient one’s curse.”

  “Can you cure it?”

  “Oh, I have many healing things for this one. Herbs and more… green things and ‘tween things, for mists upon the moor—” the creature hummed her tune.

  “What about a hiding place?” I interrupted, and the song abruptly stopped. The witch waddled away and disappeared behind the stone. We waited in silence.

  Do you think— Rolf started to ask, but stopped when the witch appeared again.

  “Here,” she croaked, handing me a bag. “Teas, three times a day. And a fourth tonic.” A clawed hand beckoned, I leaned down and let the witch whisper in my ear.

  “Three times a day?” I weighed the bag thoughtfully.

  “And salve for her chest and another for—”

  “I understand.”

  The witch smiled, nodded.

  “And what about a sanctuary?”

  “I have just the place. Deep in the forest. Follow the light of the morning star.” She pointed. “Until dawn glimmers in the east. Enter the forest, and then the cave. You will find what you seek.” She hummed again, and puttered off.

  Do you trust this one? Rolf held the woman to his chest, a strained look on his face.

  No. But she owes me. She will help us.

  I do not like that you gave her a taste for our blood.

  She had the taste long before I came to her. This is the witch the Alphas consulted, to find their woman.

  Rolf looked thoughtful. I thought it was Yseult.

  No, at the time, Yseult was not powerful enough. Come—let us be gone from this place quickly. I didn’t want to speak any more of craven evil. The magic would be enough to heal our woman, and then we would keep her safe.

  Rolf

  The route the witch sent us on quickly brought us to a deep forest full of eerie sounds. I handed the little woman to Thorbjorn and shifted into a wolf, carrying the bag of herbs as long as I could before the horrible medicines inside made me sneeze. Thorbjorn took the satchel, and I ran ahead, scouting as I usually did. To the wolf, the woods were full of more than night sounds—trails left by all sorts of creatures, some of which I’d never met before. I guided us around a porcupine and skunk’s path, and took us the long way around a hill and through a mountain stream just to avoid something large and putrid that left a wide slimy trail like a giant slug.

  This place is strange, I stopped to cock a leg and mark our trail against a moss-covered tree. I would not even come here to hunt.

  That is good. Our enemies will not think to look for us here.

  Thorbjorn cradled the little one in his arms, often giving her tender looks. Claiming a woman changed him. I only hoped she offered all that he wished. For me, she seemed too good to be true.

  My nose caught the smell of sulfur, and I snorted, hard.

  What is it, Rolf?

  There. I pointed with my nose. There is the cave.

  It was more of a tunnel, low enough to make Thorbjorn stoop. I snaked ahead, careful not to touch the walls, just as the witch said. The place smelled empty, dry, and unnatural as a tomb. When we came into a clearing beyond the stone shelter, we found the source of the sulfur smell. Hot springs bubbled out of the rocks.

  This is a good place, Thorbjorn pronounced. A place of healing.

  I was not so sure. Where are we?

  Does it matter? We are safe.

  I ran along the path, following the trail of the witch before me, a faint herbal scent. She had come this way, but that only made me trust this place less. There were many worlds. Perhaps we wandered into another one, like a hero in a story. But if that were the case, if we had strayed into another world, how will we return?

  Ahead, tucked into a grove of hemlock, fern and moss, was a little cabin. Built with clean smelling pine and cedar, it had two windows—rare in so small a dwelling—and a little door that stank of dye.

  “Paint,” Thorbjorn said aloud. “Someone has recently marked this door.”

  Should we go in? I hung back. I did not trust this witch any more than I would eat her. But I smelled nothing untoward. I ran about the clearing, checking each rock and leaf, as Thorbjorn waited with the woman in his arms.

  All clear? He asked when I was done.

  I huffed, unhappy.

  The cabin door swung open on well-made hinges. Inside there was a wide bed, round stumps for seats, and a wide stone fireplace. Plenty of iron pots and implements hung from the roof, as well as bundles of herbs. The ceiling was very high, a relief for a Berserker, who stood a foot taller than the tallest man.

  “This will do,” Thorbjorn set the little one on the bed. “This will do nicely.”

  Away from his warmth, the woman stirred. He wasted no time taking down a pot and brewing tea.

  I padded to her and poked her with my nose. She winced but did not open her eyes. Our woman suffered in the grip of fever, and some nightmare. I licked her hand, and whined.

  “She’ll be all right,” Thorbjorn answered my silent worry. “A little medicine, and rest, and she’ll be on her feet.” He picked up a water bucket and left. I pushed firewood into the hearth until my warrior brother returned with the bucket full to the brim. He poured half into the iron cauldron.

  Careful. I wrinkled my wolf nose. You don’t know what evil brew the witch made in that pot.

  “Probably a stew. Will you ever learn to trust witches?”

  Do you trust them?

  “Not usually, but they are our allies, at least for a time. They wish us to stand between them and the Corpse King.” He finished building the fire and set the cauldron on the wood once the flames took. “I have often wondered what a witch did to you.”

  Other than turn me into a monster?

  I know she kept you longer than the others, and when I went back for you, it took three days to convince you to live. What I told Sage was true.

  He stared at me, and I stared back until Sage let out a shuddering sigh on the bed. When he rose to bring the herbal brew to her, I padded out the door.

  I did not trust the witch, or our newfound luck. I did not trust the woman that was to be our savior. She was so small, so frail. Everyone I’d loved had died. I would not set my hopes on her until I was sure she would live.

  Until then, Thorbjorn could see to her, and I would hunt.

  Thorbjorn

  “He’s afraid,” I spoke to my little one as if she were awake, and not stretched out on the bed, her eyes sunken in sleep. “Rolf is the bravest man I know, but he’d rather face a thousand en
emies, alone than set his heart on something. But you’re such a sweet, little thing. I find it impossible not to love you.”

  Love. What a strange word. It tasted good. I hadn’t loved anyone since my family, and I’d left them behind for fame and fortune as one of the jarl’s prized fighters.

  Over a century and we’d finally found her. But would she accept us?

  I heated water and bathed her limbs, swirling the cloth over her skin while I watched her face, waiting for her to wake.

  Our travels had stained her shift, but I did not remove it while she slept. This little one had suffered before at the hands of men. I wouldn’t strip away the only armor she had. When she woke, I’d convince her to bathe in the hot springs. One day she would want to bare herself to us, but until that day comes, we would treat her with care.

  She stirred.

  “Easy, lass. You’re all right. Here now,” I crooned like a nursemaid. Rolf would laugh at me, a battle-hardened warrior coddling a tiny female. Let him.

  I slipped a hand under her and helped her up to drink my brew. At first she sputtered, but I pressed it on her.

  “Drink it all. I’ll find some honey, to make it go down easier. This will clear your lungs.” She gulped the liquid, her eyes heavy and half closed. “Good girl,” I said, when the cup was empty. “Now rest.”

  She dropped back into her deep slumber. The shadows lay a little lighter under her eyes. I sat down on the stool beside the bed to guard her.

  Rolf returned on all fours, carrying a fat pheasant in his teeth.

  There’s a witch out there. I think it’s the creature we consulted. The wolf snorted once or twice, as if it breathed bad air. She must be looking for you.

  “I better go see her, then.” Sage twitched when I spoke, and I waited a moment before I rose. “Watch her.”

  Rolf nodded and settled himself down at the foot of the bed in wolf form. I stopped on the stoop, wondering if I should give him any advice, in case the little one woke up and wanted me, but from the way the brown and grey wolf watched her sleep, as if she was a fragile and precious pup, told me the two would manage well together. I Changed into my wolf, and left.

  I followed his trail back into the forest, pausing to sniff at the places he’d marked. Like a natural wolf, he’d splashed his scent on the edge of our territory, a careful dribble that would shock any creature’s nose like running into a wall. I cocked a leg and added to the scent wall. No sense hiding there were two large, dominant predators claiming the clearing around the cabin as their own.

  Rolf tended to be wary around magic tainted places—he had more exposure to witches than I. He never spoke of what happened, but I recognized the stink of early fear when his nightmares woke him. I knew the taste of that fear, because I’d felt it when I woke from my first Berserker rage, and knew the monster I had become.

  The witch waited for me just beyond the hot springs, nearer our newly claimed territory than I liked. Then again, it was her cabin, even if it smelled fresh and clean of all magical taint.

  I trotted towards her, tail wagging a little. My wolf head reached her chin. I did not Change into a man. If the witch wanted to talk, she would talk.

  “I have something for you, son of Fenrir,” she said. “There is a darkness coming over the land. You must return to the pack soon with your lady love. Is she recovered?”

  I huffed. We’d barely rested a day.

  “I did not think so. Time will pass differently here. I can give you a few extra weeks in this place without it aging you beyond one. Will that that suffice?”

  I stared at her. Magic of that caliber exacted required sacrifice. I would not agree until I knew what price.

  She sighed. “I do not make this offer easily, or willingly. The time will come when the pack will do what is necessary, and it will save us all.”

  When my furry head cocked to the side, she crossed her arms over her body, a defensive posture no wolf worth his pelt would ignore. I caught a subtle flavor in her scent—fear.

  “My power comes from the sacrifices I am willing to make. Most witches go slowly, and sacrifice as little as they can, careful not to overbalance the taint on their soul. But there is one on this island who does not care what he does for power.”

  I growled.

  “Yes. The mage. The Corpse King, as you call him. My sisters and I find it wise to stay away from the mage. He has power that might ensnare us, and our forces combined will do greater damage to this island. But you—” her finger hovered over my nose. “The Berserkers were made for this fight. I know you don’t wish to have your women in battle—”

  I bared my teeth in a snarl at the thought.

  “—But they have a part to play as well. You must put the mage to earth, and bind him with the spell that made him.”

  I stared at her, the beast and wolf both raging at the thought of Sage, our newfound mate, put into danger. More than anything, I wanted to run from this magic-filled forest to call to the Alphas to tell them what she said. She spoke truth—Rolf and Sage and I would be safer surrounded by the pack. But we couldn’t move Sage while she was ill.

  “For now you have a more delicate task. Feed your little one well, and care for her. I scryed for her, and found her sickness did not come by the mage’s power. It is in her mind. But, with time, I trust you will heal her.”

  Rolf

  I waited at the foot of the bed. Whenever I laid my head down, a noise from the forest made me raise it again. I did not like these woods, full of eldritch smells and sounds, made by creatures no man had seen.

  The woman slept fitfully, twitching and coughing at intervals. At one point, I put my paws on the bed. If she were a pup, I’d fetch her a deer and feed her the good, raw offal, splintering the bones to give her the marrow. Then I’d lick her face and let her sleep curled against my heavy, furry body.

  She smelled like the herb of her name, along with the scent of honey and sunshine. Her hands gripped the coverlet and her lips moved a little as she slept.

  “Willow,” she said aloud, and her eyes snapped open.

  I rose to my feet as she rose up, muttering. She swung off the bed and came towards me, her eyes wide and unseeing.

  “I need to go,” she said. “I need to get the money to the friar.” She wiped her brow with a shaking hand, and when she took a step forward she nearly stumbled and fell. She caught herself and grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. “No more sleeping.”

  She was sick, feverish. Half awake, half in a dream.

  Heaving a deep breath, I Changed. The magic washed over my body like a cool bath, leaving me twitching a little. Her eyes focused on me as I became a man, and she shivered from head to toe.

  “Get back in bed,” I rasped on a raw throat. “We will care for you.”

  I took a step forward and she cowered behind the broom. “The nuns won’t like it. I have to work.”

  “They are not here,” I growled. “They cannot hurt you.”

  “Will you hurt me?” she whispered.

  “No.” The word ended on a whine as the beast inside me clawed for control. “Sage,” I started in a gentle voice, then gave up. I lunged for her, using Berserker speed. The broom clattered to the floor as I caught her up in my arms.

  “Enough of this,” I murmured to her as she turned a pale and petrified face to me. “Enough hiding our strength so you will not fear. You will grow used to us, and learn you are not in danger here.” I set her on the bed.

  “Please, I don’t want you to hurt me,” she shrank under the blanket, still caught in a dream. “I can work, I promise. I’ll be good…”

  “You are not to work, nor serve us.” I pulled the blanket from her hands and tucked it around her. “It is our turn to care for you. You will sleep,” I ordered. “Close your eyes.”

  Her lashes fluttered against her cheek and her breathing evened out.

  I wiped my brow of sweat. My heart raced as if I’d run a mile. I let myself slide down to the floor with a thump.
I’d fought whole armies, watched my comrades lose their minds, spent years in agony fighting the beast’s feral nature. But as I watched Sage writhe and moan in the grip of fevered nightmares, I knew that caring for her might be the hardest thing we’d ever do.

  Rolf? How goes it?

  Sage is safe. I threw another log on the fire. The wood the witch had stocked here let off a pleasant smoke.

  Did she wake?

  Not really. She did something strange.

  The woman twitched in sleep, moaning a little. I laid a hand on the coverlet, not daring to breathe. After a moment, the lines on her face smoothed and she let out a deep sigh.

  What did she do? Thorbjorn sounded impatient.

  She woke up and thought she was back at the abbey. I had to change from the wolf to speak to her.

  Did she say anything?

  She said she couldn’t sleep. She had to finish her duties.

  This is what the witch spoke of.

  I stiffened, and forced down my sick feelings—nausea, and a touch of impotent rage. I forced myself to remain calm. Did you meet with the witch?

  She said the sickness is in our mate’s mind. Sage bears the weight of guilt from what she did at the abbey. She will try to serve us, to stay alive. That is what she knows. She will sacrifice herself to survive.

  I gritted my teeth. I strode to the door and almost jerked it open, before I remembered the sound might wake her. My fist pressed against the wood in silent threat. I was a strong wolf. I was no longer weak, and unable to defend myself. If someone came for me, my warrior brother or our mate, I could destroy them.

  Are there any left in the abbey we can kill?

  Thorbjorn laughed, a vicious sound. You know as well as I we killed the only one we could. And one day we will kill every last servant of the Corpse King, and the mage himself. She will have no enemies to fear. But she must overcome her fear of us.