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The Berserker Brides Saga

Page 55

by Lee Savino


  “Yseult?”

  I did not stop even when a large armored figure stepped out in front of me.

  “Yseult?”

  Tristan caught me in his arms. I fought him, thrashing.

  “Yseult, it’s me,” he carried me away from the throne room, into the shadows beyond the massive columns.

  His worried face flashed before my eyes. Reminding me of the women I’d seen. The familiar faces. Oh Goddess, I’d seen the wives. The ghosts.

  “Get me away from here,” I shrieked.

  “It’s all right, you’re safe,” Tristan crooned. He smelled like the outdoors, the grasses and trees and everything real.

  I was crying.

  “We’re leaving. Come.” The further he carried me, the more I saw through the cobwebs the mage’s spell had wound around my mind. The king had almost enthralled me but let me go to toy with me. I was not strong enough to face him, and I was to return.

  What was I to do?

  “No, shhh, lady,” Tristan soothed, and I realized I was crying. He set me down. I clung to him, but he kept me in his lap, sliding one large hand up and down my back. “Please don’t cry,” he murmured, like a mother with child.

  Goddess, all those murdered women. The mage took them to wife, and then drained their powers. If he had his way, I’d be next.

  “Tristan,” I whispered. The warrior locked his arms around me, his warmth seeping into my numb limbs. I clung to him.

  I’d been blasted back in time to learn the secrets of defeating the mage. But without my magic, I was as helpless as the ghosts of the Corpse King’s wives. I could no longer go on alone.

  “Tristan,” I tipped back my head to search his face, and as I did the heat flared between us. Whatever it was, he felt it too. He cupped my cheeks and kissed me.

  The floodgates opened. A lifetime of suppressing all emotion, all my strict training swept away. I pressed myself against Tristan’s hard chest, my hands frantically tugging him closer, as if he were a rock I clung to in the storm.

  At last, I broke away with a moan. My body was full of molten desire, no longer my own.

  “Do not ask me to take you to him again,” Tristan said fiercely against my lips. “I will not. I cannot.”

  A cool wind blew around us, whispers rising in the dark. I remembered myself, where I was, and pushed him away. “I must,” I whispered. “The king wishes me to come to him again.”

  Tristan cursed. “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  Still cursing, he ran his hand through his thick hair. He’d brought me back to the women’s chambers. We were seated on a low couch. Rising, he paced to a table and brought back a cup of something.

  “Drink this.”

  It was water, and I blessed its cool comfort. Tristan settled his great body beside mine. We weren’t touching but his heat enveloped me the same.

  “You must tell me everything. What happened? What did you see?”

  “I saw the mage, the king.”

  “He was there? He did not just speak from the air?”

  “At first he did. Then he showed himself to me.”

  I stared at my cup, remembering the ghosts. Even now I felt them rustling about their old chambers. Until I knew their intent, I dare not speak of them, and call them further into this realm from their own.

  “I’m sorry I didn't warn you more.”

  “Tristan,” I raised my eyes to his. “I have to tell you something.” He was the king’s commander. If I confessed treason, his duty was to run me through.

  But he’d kissed me. More than flirtation. More than the games I’d played with Lars. Tristan’s kiss had cleared my mind.

  “I am more than what I seem—” I began, when men’s voices echoed through the room.

  “It’s all right,” Tristan soothed when I startled. “It’s just Ivar and Lars.”

  And Magnus, though he stayed by the door, lingering in the shadows with weapon drawn. He stood a head taller than all the rest.

  “Lady,” Lars came to me, his face lit with eagerness. “We are glad of your return. We have something to show you.”

  At Tristan’s nod, he took my hands and helped me up, then led me to the courtyard, where I was struck dumb. There were white blooms everywhere I looked, bundles of them placed around the fountain, petals floating in the water.

  “We wished to honor you,” Tristan murmured.

  I smiled through my tears.

  “We found them by the north wall.” Lars plucked a bloom and gave it to me. “Moonflower. They bloom in darkness.”

  “They’re beautiful. You must have picked them all.”

  “I hadn’t noticed them before today. They appeared near our sparring field soon after you walked the castle wall, and bloomed soon after dusk,” Ivar said. “They only bloom one night.”

  “My mother used to say, ‘There can be good in the world if flowers can still bloom,’” Lars added.

  “Thank you.” I could barely speak. Somehow, someway, these men cared for me.

  And even if they did not, I could keep my secrets no longer. Better to tell them and risk their wrath then have the Corpse King enthrall me in his power.

  “I have something to tell you. All of you.”

  “Not here,” Tristan said. Taking my arm, he guided me back to the inner room, where he sat on the couch with me. The other three men arranged themselves about the room.

  “I was a witch once. In a time and place far from here. A thousand years to be exact.” I gave them a moment to absorb this. “I was born with powers, natural magic, the gift from the Goddess. But I chose another path.” I glanced around at the waiting faces. “All magic requires sacrifice. Small spells, a small sacrifice. A bit of blood or bone. Larger spells require greater sacrifice. Over my lifetime, I have sacrificed much for power.”

  “What did you sacrifice?” Magnus’ voice boomed in the dark.

  “Nothing like the mage. No. I am not a murderer. Sorcery is an abomination.” The ghost’s whispers swirled around me. A breeze tugged the edge of my shift. “I gave up my natural abilities and trained with the witches. We sacrificed animals—mice, goats, doves. Their pain and death grew my powers. I became strong, stronger than any of my witch sisters. That is why I was chosen to face the mage.

  “In our time, he was bound by a spell that made him sleep a thousand years, but now he is free, and threatens us all. I was sent to find a way to defeat him. I must learn the secrets of the binding spell and return to my sisters in my own time. That is why I am here.” Slowly I raised my eyes to them. Four men, so different and so alike. Warriors all, pledged to the king, but perhaps... perhaps… the help the Goddess had sent to me.

  Or not. If I had misread, they would either deliver me to the mage or strike a blow to end me.

  “How will you find the spell?

  “I don’t know,” I said in a choked voice. “When I arrived, something—the Corpse King’s defenses or my sisters’ spell—stripped me of all my powers. I cannot use magic to defend myself or to hide. That is how you caught me so easily,” I said to Ivar, and he nodded.

  “And now the king says I must return to him.”

  Ivar sighed. “He’s decided he wants you as his bride.”

  I nodded. “If he takes me to wife, how long will I survive?”

  “Not long,” Ivar answered. “It depends. Some women weaken and die right away. Others bear him many sons. But after time, all of them perish. If not by his hand…” he trailed off and I answered for him.

  “By his magic leaching their essence.”

  Tristan spoke up. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”

  “Shhh,” I stopped his promises with my fingers on his lips. “You cannot. You are his commander, sworn to protect him. If he knew—”

  He pulled down my hand and kissed it. “My life is yours.”

  “And mine,” Magnus stepped from the shadows. Despite his great size, he moved swiftly and knelt close. “Along with my blade.”

&nbs
p; Lars and Ivar also knelt, murmuring the same.

  I couldn’t stop tears tracking down my face. “You don’t even know me.”

  “We beheld you first in our dreams. You hold the power to free us from the battle rage,” Tristan said.

  “Our meeting was foretold,” Ivar murmured.

  I knew it was true. From the first, I felt I knew these men. I told them this, and their glad expressions broke my heart. These warriors would fight for me. But for naught. Against the mage’s magic, they would die.

  “We will find a way to stand against him,” Tristan said. “You said he was trapped for a thousand years.”

  “Yes,” I hesitated, then spoke my greatest fear. “But the lore said he was bespelled by one of his wives, who found a way to ensnare him, and joined her strength with all the others to stand against him.”

  “But he has no more wives,” Ivar said.

  I pressed my lips together. I did not know what it meant. Had my coming back in time changed the pattern of events?

  A hard knock on the door drove the warriors to their feet. Sword drawn, Magnus opened it, and scowled at the one beyond.

  “The king requests his lady at midnight.” I recognized Gaul’s voice.

  I let my head sink into my hands. So soon. I had hoped for a reprieve, hoped he’d change his mind.

  “Noted,” Magnus said, and started to shut the door in the messenger’s face. There was a struggle, and Gaul pushed his way into the room. His left eye was blackened from a fist, and even though Ivar and Lars blocked his way, his eyes landed on me with hate.

  “I have more to say,” Gaul spat in my direction. “She must dress in the clothes he sent to her. She must look like a queen. By order of the king.”

  “She will,” Tristan said. “Now leave us.” His voice cracked with power, and to my surprise, Gaul obeyed.

  Magnus slammed the door behind the retreating warrior. “He grows bold,” the giant warrior growled.

  “We will deal with him,” Tristan said. “And with those who follow him.”

  “I’ll go with him now, and keep an eye on him,” Magnus said, and bowing to me, left.

  “Lady, you should rest. You don’t have much time,” Ivar said. “We will leave you alone.” He tugged Lars arm. The blond darted forward, leaned down and gave me an impish kiss. “Till we meet again,” he waggled his brows until I couldn’t help but smile at both warrior’s retreating backs.

  Tristan leaned closer to me. His hand rested on my nape, and I winced. Frowning, he tugged away my gown and sucked in a breath.

  “Lady, who has harmed you?”

  Craning my neck, I noted the bruises livid on my skin. “The mage touched me.” His hand had left a collar of bluish marks.

  Tristan’s whole body tensed, but his voice was cool. “Don’t show Magnus. It will send him again into battle madness.”

  “Is Magnus fully healed?”

  The anger emanating off the commander dimmed somewhat. “He is. Miracle of miracles.”

  “Out on the practice field he terrorized all who dare spar with him.”

  “That’s Magnus,” Tristan chuckled. “He will never be gentle, but thanks to you, he has his right mind. Truly a boon. A ray of sunlight on this dark day.”

  “Good,” I closed my eyes as exhaustion washed through me.

  “You should rest,” Tristan made to leave, and I caught his hand.

  “Please. Stay with me.”

  I curled against him. Slowly, as if afraid he might scare me away, his hand came to stroke back my hair.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said when I was almost asleep.

  “Hmm?”

  “The four of us spoke. We can find a way to get you out.”

  I raised my head, no longer tired. They’d help me run. But then what would happen to them?

  “I was sent to find a way to stop the Corpse King from destroying my people.”

  “Do you know how?”

  “No. They should’ve sent another. One used to fighting without power. As it is, I do not know how to face him.”

  “So what then? You offer yourself up to him? What crime did you commit to be sacrificed so?”

  I gazed at my hands.

  Tristan cursed and kicked at the unlit brazier sending wood flying.

  “And if it does no good?”

  “I must try,” I whispered.

  “Why did they send you here with no weapons? With nothing to use against him?”

  “I have my wits, my looks.”

  “Your innocence.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You will be sacrificed on the mage’s altar, and none of your people will even know what happened to you.”

  I prayed that would not happen.

  His shoulders hunched, helpless. Even without his helm, commander’s cloak, and armor, he was the picture of a powerful man, frustrated. For all his strength, he was unable to protect me.

  I laid a hand on his arm. “I will be all right.”

  “Will you? Do you know what my king does to innocent women? He charms them. He takes them to bed. He keeps them in his harem and gets sons on them. And when he is done, he sacrifices them to build his power.”

  “You have seen him do this?”

  “I have watched… too many. All our mothers. And then his children…”

  I steadied myself. I’d heard horrible stories of how the mage treated his children. “What of his children?”

  “All sons. We become his army. All half-brothers. We share a close bond. We also have great power.”

  “Until his magic drives you mad,” I said. “In my time, we call the mage “The Corpse King.”

  Tristan barked a bitter laugh. “We are his soldiers. We leave the corpses.”

  I put a hand on his arm to stop his self-censure. “You are an honorable man. The mage holds many in his thrall, in this time, and in my time, as the Corpse King.” I did not tell him why we called him so. In my time, the Corpse King raised the dead so that they walked and served him, animated by the worst of evil magic—necromancy. “He will not stop until he has enslaved all of us. That is why my people fear. That is why I must face him. I must, Tristan, it’s why I have come.”

  “Yseult.” He cupped my face. I waited for his kiss, but he only held me, studying my face with sorrow marring his. “If I let you go, would you run?”

  “No.” But I let my gaze drop for I did not know my own fortitude. I hoped I would make the courageous choice.

  “Then ready yourself. I will take you to him.”

  I prepared myself for the Corpse King’s summons in the same way I had prepared for my sisters’ spell. I bathed, not a full luxurious bath, but a quick one with a bowl of water and a bit of cloth. I used my shift to dry, and reluctantly shrugged on the gold gown. The king had sent slippers with his gifts, and after washing my feet, I put them on. I found a brush in one of the women’s rooms. Saying a prayer for its owner, I attacked my hair, leaning over the fountain to peer at my reflection. Pale, with dark circles under my eyes, I looked like a ghost. My hair haloed around my head. Try as I might, I could not get it to fall flat.

  Finally, I braided it down my back and wove in a few moonflowers. They released a strong scent when crushed, and for a time I played with them, enjoying my gift while I could. I’d never had a lover try to charm me.

  “Lady,” Tristan entered the courtyard, his helm under his arm. He slowed as he approached me, and touched a finger to my hair. “The most beautiful flowers bloom in darkness.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “From where I come from, I am not considered beautiful.”

  “Then your people are blind.”

  Or I hid my beauty behind my witch self, my strangeness, my power. “I wish we could’ve met sooner, then.”

  “Yseult, it’s not too late to run.”

  “I cannot. My sisters are waiting for me, a thousand years back in time. I must find a way to defeat him and send the knowledge back. Even if I do not survive.”

&n
bsp; He drew me close, his lips at my forehead. “I cannot do this. I cannot bring you to him. Don’t ask me.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, pushing up to press my cheek to his. I had never needed a man, but in this time, in this world, I needed Tristan like my lungs needed air. If I did not touch him. I would die.

  “You must find a way to fight him,” he said. I stayed silent, for I could not. I had no weapons.

  Tristan drew out his talisman. “Take this. My mother thought it would protect her against him.” The moonstone flashed in the darkness. “She gave it to me. I give it to you, lady. It is yours.”

  I nodded and bowed my head, so he could fasten it around my neck.

  “I will return,” I told him. “I will face the Corpse King and return.”

  A great shadow fell across us. Magnus, looming in the doorway.

  “It is time.”

  Yseult

  Our march to the king’s chambers took little time. All along the halls, Berserkers lined the way. I saw Gaul and a few of his followers scowling at me, but most of the faces were watchful, waiting.

  At the gilt doors, Tristan halted. I turned with him to face my honor guard. “We go on from here alone.”

  Lars, Ivar, and Magnus all looked worried.

  “I will be fine,” I told them. At least I knew what I would face. The Corpse King might try to seduce me. If that failed he would try to use his magic to overwhelm me. He could easily rape my mind, leave me his slave, a shell of a woman he could use to bear his sons. He would absorb my spaewife magic if he could.

  Somehow, I would fight.

  Tristan guided me to the doors, which drew open without a touch and set the shadows whispering.

  For a moment, I leaned into Tristan.

  “Yseult,” he breathed, and I willed him not to ask me to run. If he did, I would say yes. But it would mean his death, and mine. If he wished, the Corpse King could find us anywhere. There was no place we could go.

  “I’m fine,” I said. He studied me with dark eyes that saw more than I would have him see.

  “Very well.” He kissed my brow and withdrew. “Return to me.”

 

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