by Lee Savino
Juliet shook her head, a strained look upon her face. I noticed she would not meet the warrior’s eyes, even though he gazed on her with a soft look on his face.
“Will you be all right walking to Laurel’s?” she asked me, and I nodded.
“She will be safe.” The warrior straightened. “I will personally escort her.”
At that, Juliet huffed and met the warrior’s eyes long enough to glare at him before turning on her heel and hustling back into the lodge.
I blinked up at the warrior, who chuckled.
“Come now.” He opened the door and swept out a hand. “The wind is brisk but if we go swiftly, the walk will keep us warm.”
I started down the path, bracing for the haunting sound from the slopes below. The Berserkers had built our lodge on a high mountain ledge only accessible by a bridge. I followed my large escort past two more guards and padded down the wooden bridge and into the woods beyond.
At one point, the path forked, and I hesitated.
“This way, little sister,” The warrior called back to me and waited for me to catch up. “The other way leads to a ravine, and a treacherous climb down the mountain. The view is beautiful, though,” he further explained. He seemed content to talk. Of all the warriors, he was the most friendly. Jarl was his name.
“Juliet seemed upset by the howling. But other than that, she is well?” Jarl’s tone was easy going, but I sensed his interest.
I nodded.
“Good. Please tell her she can ask for anything she wishes. We are here to see to her needs. Her and all the unmated spaewives,” he added, and I smiled to encourage him. “We can bring clothes, furs, wood for the fire. I can fetch bread for the lodge, too, though I guess you wish to travel yourself to collect it, if only to see your other friends.”
I nodded again.
“Haakon and Ulf’s mate makes the best honeycakes and breads,” Jarl mused. “Do you know what bread Juliet likes best?”
I shook my head, and he shrugged. “No matter. We will bring back them all, and I will see which one she prefers.” And with that, he started whistling, his long legs eating up the path in an easy stride. I scurried to keep up, wondering what it would be like to be so strong and powerful, to speak and have others listen, to walk in the woods and not be afraid.
The path took us straight to a huge lodge connected to a low building. The smell of roast meat hit me, and I picked up my pace, outstripping even Jarl to dart eagerly through the door.
Inside, a large spit turned over a hearth fire. Rows of tables held trays and platters filled with food, and in the middle, ruling over it all, was the queen of the kitchens herself, my friend Laurel.
“Fern,” Laurel cried, throwing up her floury arms. She wiped her hands before coming to grasp mine. “Oh, you are so cold. Come warm by the fire. I have tea and fresh cakes.” She tugged me inside. I startled when a large shadow moved from the corner. A huge warrior, half of his face mottled with hideous scars, loomed over us. I was too frightened to let out a squeak.
“Ulf,” Laurel smiled up at him. “Hazel’s mate might be by soon to pick up bread for her and all the lodges near hers... will you ask him to tell her I need more fennel and wintergreen?”
“Of course, little love,” he rasped and stooped to give her a quick kiss before heading outside to greet Jarl.
“Don’t be afraid,” Laurel bumped my foot with hers. “He’s very sweet.”
I gave my own nod and smiled, hoping I didn’t give offense to her or the scarred warrior.
“How is everyone? I should go for a visit, but every day I have requests for more bread.” My friend fussed about the hearth, but I knew she loved her work, and was proud to produce enough bread and baked goods to feed everyone on the mountain. “Are the girls doing well in their new home?”
I nodded, accepting the food and cup she brought to me.
“Please, eat,” she nudged me before seating herself nearby. She accepted my silence, chattering enough for both of us. “Sage and Willow and I wonder about all of you, kept so far away. We know it’s wise to take precautions but,” she shrugged. “The pack isn’t as wild as it once was. We’re making them more civilized.”
I thought of the howls coming from the chasm and picked my cake apart.
“Fern, are you all right? You look worried.”
A door to our right scraped open, and in wandered another tall, broad-shouldered warrior, handsome and unscarred. Laurel’s other mate.
I kept my eyes on my plate as they murmured to each other. The berserker bond allowed two warriors to mate with one woman. What would it be like, to love and live with two men? To be the one they cherished above all?
I had come close to finding out, once. Before all was lost.
I scooped the crumbs of the cake I’d picked apart into a pocket, to scatter later for the birds. When Laurel’s mate moved on, I rose and took up the basket I’d brought.
“I suppose you must be going,” Laurel sighed. “Please, tell Juliet to visit anytime. Perhaps you could bring more of the unmated spaewives.” She hopped up and started filling my basket with fresh loaves. “And you’re welcome, anytime. I can always use more hands in the kitchens. Or someone to talk to while I work.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not that you talk very much. But I talk enough for both of us.”
I returned her smile, and started for the door, where I hesitated.
“Laurel?”
She jerked up from the bowl where she was washing her hands, surprised at the sound of my voice. I understood. I surprised myself, but it was too late now. I cleared my throat. “May I have some extra loaves?”
“Of course.” She bustled about, wrapping up a few more. “Do you need another basket?”
I shook my head. She looked curious but didn’t pry. I waited until she’d turned to the ovens to secret them under my cloak. I didn’t know how I would sneak them off the mountain, but I’d find a way.
Jarl walked ahead of me on the way back. When we came to the fork in the path, I hesitated.
“What is it?” he stopped when he realized I wasn’t following.
My mouth went dry. I’d spent so long holding my tongue, I barely remembered how to talk. “Juliet,” I blurted the first thing I could think of. “She wanted me to get her some wintergreen. It grows along here.”
He frowned but jerked his chin to indicate we should go. I scurried down the path, praying I’d see the low green leaves along the path. All too soon the trees fell away and we were on a rocky ledge, but, lo and behold, there was wintergreen, growing in the cracks of the lichen covered stones.
I dropped to my knees, making a show of gathering the leaves, favoring the ones with red berries.
“Does Juliet use this for tinctures?” Jarl asked, and when I nodded, he crouched and picked some too.
I moved to another clump. “Don’t stray too close to the ledge,” Jarl warned, but let me go where I would.
When he wasn’t looking, I drew out the extra loaves and threw them over the edge, before I quickly returned to the path.
“Are you sure we have enough?” he asked, placing his leaves in my basket.
I just smiled at him. It was sweet, how much he cared for Juliet. My throat closed, remembering what it was like to have two warriors dote on me the same way.
As we returned on the bridge, the howls echoed below our feet. The wolves seemed to have ventured closer to the lodge. Perhaps they would smell the bread, and, even if they preferred meat, they’d know that someone was thinking of them. It was a small gesture, but it might give them hope.
2
That night, belly full of bread, I lay in bed and remembered the night the Berserkers came to the abbey to take us.
Then
I woke in the orphan’s quarters to a noise. —a child’s cry.
The nuns were not very patient with us; none but Juliet, the youngest of the order, showed the orphans any kindness. Whoever cried out would only find comfort with another orphan.
My mind still sick with my dreams--large shapes running about the abbey, chasing and terrorizing me and my friends--I padded from my bed, past the sleeping girls, and left the dormitory.
Sorrel stood in the hall with one of the young ones, Violet. The older girl put a finger to her lips. I nodded and held out my hand for Violet’s.
A crashing noise made us all freeze. Sorrel whipped around even as I shrunk back with Violet. Outside the window, dark figures streamed across the lawn.
“Go,” Sorrel whispered harshly. Half-carrying Violet, I ran back down the hall.
More crashing sounds—windows breaking. Inside the dormitory, girls screamed.
“Not that way,” Sorrel ordered, and pushed me another way, down a hall the orphans weren’t allowed to roam.
“What is happening?” I gasped.
“We’re under attack.” Sorrel sounded grim, but calm. We raced along, frightened cries following us. I wanted to ask why the abbey would be attacked—there was no treasure here, nothing but a few nuns and a corrupt friar, and a dormitory full of orphaned girls. I saved my breath for carrying Violet, who was skinny, but still heavy. At least she was too sleepy or shocked to cry out.
Sorrel led us to the far side of the abbey. We passed through another hall of windows, and I gasped at the sight of huge warriors, stalking to and from the dormitory. They entered empty handed and left with orphans in their arms or slung over their shoulders. The girl’s night shifts glowed in the moonlight.
“They’re taking us.” I grasped Violet tighter, and she me.
“Not if I can help it,” Sorrel muttered. We ran along, my breath aching in my chest from Violet’s weight.
“Sorrel,” I gasped, just as a crash came ahead. Warriors kicked in the door of the nun’s quarters and entered. Shrill screams burst out with the light.
Sorrel and I pressed against the wall, hoping the shadows would cover us. A moment later, the nun Juliet stepped onto the lawn, flanked by warriors.
In my arms, Violet whimpered. A warrior’s head snapped our way.
Sorrel tugged me back the way we came. A shout rose from the lawn behind—the warriors had spotted us.
“Sorrel,” I gasped as we raced down another corridor forbidden to the orphans. I didn’t even know where we were, but it seemed Sorrel did. “Where are we going?”
“A hiding place. This way.”
Behind us, glass shattered and boot steps crossed the flagstones. The warriors were coming.
Sorrel cursed under her breath, words the nuns would whip us for even knowing. I almost laughed at Sorrel’s boldness, but my chest was too tight.
What would they do if they caught us?
Following Sorrel, I nearly stumbled down a stair. A few more feet, and Sorrel drew us inside a dark room. The scent of herbs and honey bathed my face. Great barrels were stored here in the cool damp, along with the herbs used in distilling the spirits.
“Hide,” Sorrel ordered. “Under the table.”
I crouched, pulling Violet against me. Sorrel knelt nearby, working up one of the flagstones.
My lungs still heaved from running while carrying Violet. “We can’t escape.”
“I’m not going without a fight.” To my utter shock, she pulled out a rope, a bow, and arrows. I knew she was a hunter—the best of us at setting traps to catch rabbits in the gardens but did not know she had such a cache of weapons. If she was caught. the nuns would beat her, and the friar lock her in the tower until he found someone to buy her.
Rising, Sorrel strung the bow and plucked it, readying an arrow.
“They may not find us here. We’ll hide, then run to the village,” she whispered, and I nodded, scooting further under the table. It was a large, heavy piece, made of wood.
Boot steps sounded in the hall, and I shrank back into the shadows.
“This way,” a rough male voice said, startling in its strangeness. Other than the friar and his visitors, there were few men who came to the abbey.
“There’s no one down there.”
“I scent a few.” Boots paused outside of the door. “Smell that?”
“Aye. Sweet.” The voices grated my ears.
Move past, move past, I prayed, but when the door swung open, I wasn’t surprised. God did not heed the prayers of a sinful orphan.
Two sets of boots entered. I pressed Violet’s face to my breast.
“Come out, little rabbit…”
“Easier prey than rabbits.” The warrior chuckled as he came forward. A slight movement from the shadows of Sorrel’s hiding place, and the whisper of an arrow. The warrior roared.
“She shot me!”
The other warrior chortled. “Serves you right for calling her a rabbit.”
The first warrior growled.
“Trouble?” Another pair of boots came in the room. My heart sank.
“Thorsteinn,” the first warrior sounded surly. “This is not your prey.”
“Not yours either,” Thorsteinn was amused. “More like your hunter. She shot you?”
“A trifle.” A snap and the arrow fell to the ground, broken and useless under the warrior’s boot.
“Stay back,” Sorrel’s voice wavered only a little. “I have more.”
“Bitch,” the first warrior growled. A grunt and he staggered back. I scooted further into the shadows, realizing the warrior Thorsteinn had punched him.
“Get out,” Thorsteinn said calmly. “This one belongs to me and Vik.”
“We were here first!”
“Get out,” Thorsteinn repeated, and the hair rose on my arms. He barely sounded human.
Grumbling, the two warriors left. For a long minute, Thorsteinn didn’t move. I held my breath in the silence.
A shadow came to the door, entered. Four legs and golden eyes. A wolf. It ducked his head, peering at us under the table. With sniff, it joined the warrior facing the corner where Sorrel hid.
“Stay back,” Sorrel repeated, sounding stronger.
“No need to fear, little warrior,” Thorsteinn crooned. The wolf stalked forward. “We didn’t come to harm you.”
“I’ll shoot you.”
Thorsteinn just chuckled.
The wolf moved between one breath and another. A strange wind blew through the stillroom, sending shivers down my body. Every inch of my skin prickled with instinct. Sorrel gasped.
“Got her,” another male voice came, raw and gravely in the dark. “She’s a fighter.” A man’s bare feet and legs came past the table. There was no sign of the wolf.
“Easy,” Thorsteinn murmured. “Hush, little warrior, I’ll bring your weapons. We’ll let you use them again, once we get you to safety.”
Sorrel swore.
“Thorsteinn?” Another warrior called into the stillroom.
“Dagg, Svein,” Thorsteinn greeted them.
“You found your prize.”
“We did.” Thorsteinn spoke over Sorrel’s muffled curses. “But there are two more under the table.” With that casual comment that sent my heart plummeting to my feet, Thorsteinn and the other warrior left. Sorrel’s angry voice receded down the hall.
The new warriors came to stand in front of the table. I kept a hand over Violet’s mouth but couldn’t stop my own frightened sigh. In the heavy pause that followed, my heartbeat skittered to a stop.
“We hear you cooing, little dove,” one of the new warriors said. He crouched and golden eyes found mine. Shock reverberated through me at the fey glow of his gaze. “I am Svein. We’re not going to hurt you.”
I shook my head.
“We do not wish to scare you, but you are coming with us.” He rose, and I jerked in surprise as the table rose above my and Violet’s head. Two warriors peered down at us. Svein had light hair and a narrow face. The other’s brown beard went down to his broad chest, and he echoed Svein as he reached for us.
“You’re coming with us.”
3
I woke with a start. The lodge was quiet, filled with the soft sounds of slumber. M
y friends lay all around. All but Juliet. I frowned. It was not like her to be missing. She even gave up her own bed in order to share one with the little ones
Gathering the cloak, I made my way to the door.
Outside, a full moon shone over the frostbitten ground. We’d had snow that melted in the few days past, but it was still bitterly cold. My breath fogged the air in front of my face.
A low moan made me whirl. I crept along the side of the lodge. There, lying against the wall, lay Juliet, wearing nothing but her shift and a pelt around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed in the moonlight.
I knelt and put a hand to her hot brow. Even in the cold, her body burned.
Closing her eyes, Juliet turned her face away.
“Leave me,” she croaked.
I left but returned with a cup of water. I knew what plagued her. The same fever had come on me in the past.
Juliet drank some, her eyes darting to mine over the cup. “Fern, please. Do not tell anyone.”
I nodded. If any warrior found out she had the spaewife fever, the Alphas would demand she take a mate.
“Thank you,” she closed her eyes again. Her brow wrinkled.
As I left, I noted she clutched a posy of crushed wintergreen leaves. Perhaps trying to cover the scent of her heat with the minty smell. For her sake, I hope it worked. The Berserkers had the sharp senses of wild beasts.
When I slipped to the front of the lodge, I realized why Juliet had escaped notice. The guards had left their posts close to the lodge. Laughter came from the bridge ahead where they had a fire going. They were playing the game of polished bones, laughing and betting. A few passed a cask back and forth.
I drew my cloak around me and crept along the slope. When throwing the slop pot over the hill, I’d noticed a narrow path among the boulders. The path did not go all the way into the ravine, but it might help me cross under the bridge, to the place where I’d thrown the bread.
I made my way carefully down the side of the mountain, crawling over frostbitten rocks. The moonlight lit my path the whole way. When it came time to cross under the bridge, I waited until a cloud covered the bright light before hurrying along the path. The warrior’s voices echoed from high above, but no one noticed my escape, or caught my scent.
