Origins_Shifters Forever Worlds

by Elle Thorne

  What is this?

  Even in solid darkness, he could see because of his shifter vision. Why could he see nothing now?

  He raised his arms—at least he could do that—and rubbed his eyes. Still the same darkness persisted.

  Have I gone blind? Permanently?

  It was with these thoughts that Calder’s mind was plagued when the same darkens took him into a state of unconsciousness, his bear taking him into a shared blackness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brenna returned from her talk with Eerika to find an unconscious and pale Calder.

  Her first thought was that they would need food. He would especially, because he’d lost blood, and not just a little.

  Anguish tore at her. She’d have to leave him. She couldn’t hunt and kill something with what they had. An axe and a knife wouldn’t serve. Given enough time, perhaps she could make a trap, but…

  No, time was not on their side. She had to make sure he could eat, and then they would have to vacate the area. They couldn’t stay here.

  Though Brenna trusted Eerika to keep her secret, she couldn’t risk having another person happen on them.

  She exhaled her frustration. There was really only one option: go to the village and take some food.

  She appraised Calder, wondering if what she was doing was right.

  No, she didn’t second-guess her desire to be with him. What she questioned was how she was going about this. Would he be incapacitated? Would she be able to fend and hunt for them?

  She pushed the nagging doubts aside. One thing at a time. First, food. And with that thought in mind, she placed the axe next to him, secured her knife at her hip, and left the safety of the cave for the unknown status of the village.

  The battle between the village women and their captors had ended, and the women had been triumphant.

  From the cover of the brush, Brenna noticed how the women, victorious and celebrating, had painted their faces with dye, creating runic symbols on their bodies and limbs.

  She heard the word Valkyrie mentioned repeatedly, and caught sight of Freyja, striding from woman to woman, looking much like a general on the battlefield.

  The women had freed the children from the thorn corral and were dragging the bodies of the dead men to the same thorny enclosure, in the interim piling wood on the bodies.

  Brenna shook herself from her reverie. There was no time to study the happenings here. She had a purpose. She noted one of the storage huts, the one closest to the forest. She could slip in there. It was close to dusk, she might be able to do so unnoticed, and grab enough food for—well, she’d grab as much as she could because who knew how long they’d be unable to hunt and cook.

  With stealth and surefootedness she’d have never thought herself of, Brenna managed to find a bag and fill it at the hut. Just as she was leaving, she spied anther bag. She took the first one and secured it in a branch on a tree then ran back to the hut to get the second bag.

  The sun had fallen, the woods were dark, and the sky ominous, but the village was well-lit for a pyre had been set, using the wood and the bodies of the dead captors.

  The stench was overwhelming, and brought to mind another time when her father’s family had done the same to an uncle that had passed. That smell. Her stomach roiled.

  Leaving the first bag in the tree, well hidden by branches she’d arranged carefully, Brenna took the second bag and made her way toward the cave, stumbling about in the dark, wishing she had better night vision.

  She scoffed at that, and of course, it made her think of Calder and how well he could see in the dark.

  “Where have you been?” a voice said in the darkness of the forest.

  She gasped. Her heart leapt into her throat. And then she recognized the voice.

  “Calder. What are you doing out here?”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “I had to get us food. How are you?” She wished she had enough light to see his face, to ascertain he was doing better.

  “I am conscious. Was I out long? Days?”

  “No, no. Not days. Just a few hours.”

  “You went back to the village?” He took the bag from her shoulder.

  She heaved a sigh of relief at not having the weight on her back.

  “I did.”

  “My—my brother? My men? My clansmen?”

  She bit her lip. She didn’t want to say.

  “I can smell them,” he told her. “I’m just wondering if you saw—” His voice broke. “Mostly my brother, Gunnar, Torsten?”

  She swallowed hard. “I did not see any of them. No one I recognized, but…” She swallowed again. “I didn’t see anyone alive.”

  He cursed softly in the darkness, then took her hand. “Follow me. I’ll lead us back to the cave.”

  Next to Calder, her head against his chest, Brenna chewed on dried meat. “I’ll fill the water bag from the creek in the morning.”

  “I need to see for myself.”

  She knew what he meant. But she didn’t want him going there. What if Freyja had put a ward of protection over the village? What if he lost his life just to see if anyone survived?

  “You shouldn’t.”

  His chest rose abruptly, then fell as he exhaled mightily. “I must. If there is anything…”

  “Calder, Freyja is a powerful sorceress. She overpowered your entire group. All those men. You think she will have a problem with you?”

  “I must see.” His voice reminded her of the hardness of the rock wall behind her, of the inflexibility of his axe.

  Morning brought an anger to Brenna when she realized the spot next to her was empty. She found her fury burning deeply within. How could he leave? How could he go to check on them and risk his life to do so? Did he not understand there was imminent danger for him at the village?

  These were the very thoughts that consumed her when the very cause of her angst walked into the cave’s entrance and made his way back to her. He carried two water bags, and his face was free of blood, as was his clothing, though it was dripping wet.

  “You should not have done that.” She fumed.

  He leaned in, kissed her on the lips. A part of her softened, his lips were cool and tender against hers. “I had to go check on my brother, my men.”

  There was a sadness in his eyes that told her not to ask any questions.

  He handed her the bag with water.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “We cannot stay in the area.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had not been easy to see the bones of so many he’d known and fought next to in the ashes of the pyre the women had created.

  He overheard the powerful one called Freyja telling the women they were now a new breed. That they were Valkyrie. And that they were to be warriors.

  Though Calder knew and understood the life of a warrior, he’d never taken into account there could be an army of women warriors.

  A part of him wanted nothing more than to shift into his bear and wreak havoc and seek vengeance upon these village women who now strutted, carrying weapons, occasionally mock-sparring.

  Was this how his own men had behaved in front of the women? Is that why they were doing this? Was this what they had seen modeled and were now emulating?

  In his head, Calder’s bear roared, mourning the other bear shifters, their bears, particularly. Calder wondered if the anguish his bear felt would allow him to break the chains that bound him, rendering him unable to shift into his bear. And knowing that he risked discovery, Calder pushed for a shift.

  He pushed, he strained, and yet, nothing could break the invisible bonds that bound his bear into powerlessness.

  And so, it had been that Calder had left the site of the village and gone to the water to fill the bags and return to the woman who’d saved his life.

  It was with this in mind, he watched the woman he’d come to love more than life itself drinking the water he’d brought, and told her, “We cannot stay in the
area.”

  Brenna nodded, her face tear streaked through the grime and blood of the prior day’s events. “I know not where we can go.”

  “We could go to my father’s people.”

  He knew instantly that had been the wrong thing to say from the paleness that had drained her cheeks.

  “I cannot fathom living among the types of—” Brenna placed the water bag down. “The men who did what they did to that village are not the type I want to be around.”

  He nodded. “You know that I am—was one of them.”

  “You are different,” she said with vehemence.

  This was true. Now. But, surely, she knew he had a past. “I am, now.”

  She was shaking violently.

  He took her in his arms.

  Brenna sunk into him and he gave her comfort and assurances into the night that he was a different man. All the while, wondering what had happened to his bear and if it could be reversed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A few short winters later.

  Brenna pushed her hair from her face and ran after her three-year-old son, Gunnar. On the way, she cast a dirty look in Calder’s direction, only to find her mate laughing softly.

  “Oh, you think it’s funny the way this young man keeps his mother on her toes?”

  Calder dropped the blade he’d been using to skin a deer he’d brought home and with several long strides swooped a giggling Gunnar into his arms, then tossed him upward.

  Gunnar released a high squeal of excitement and demanded his father do it again, and again.

  Brenna sat on a stump near them, breathless. Her stomach, heavy with another baby, was taxing her every move.

  She admired the way Calder held his son, the handsome figure he made. Not a single day had she regretted the choice she’d made to make a life with him.

  They’d found an isolated region full of wildlife and plants as food sources with easy access to water, and a hill to build a cabin on. A cabin protected by the mountain behind them.

  They’d been there a few months when Brenna had discovered they were not far from her father’s lands. She’d told Calder.

  He’d asked her if she wanted to visit her father, his jaw tight. She knew it wasn’t her father that concerned him—it was the husband she’d left behind. As far as she was concerned, that man had not been her husband. They’d never consummated their marriage as man and wife. She’d never been much more than chattel to her husband, or even her father.

  No, Brenna had told him. She had no wish to see anyone from her prior life.

  Calder had nodded and acquiesced, though she knew his Viking blood wanted to seek revenge on the man who’d caused her such pain. For Brenna, there had been no reason for that.

  She wanted peace and happiness. And listening to the sounds of Gunnar’s merriment, feeling the baby inside kicking, she knew she had exactly what she wanted.

  Little did she expect that peaceful, happy life to be disrupted one day when a large, grimy man in rags and long hair, with tattoos on his face emerged into the clearing where she was hanging the baby’s clothing.

  She’d given Calder another son, and she’d told him to name this one too, as she would name the girls when the time came, if they should have girls. She’d known that it meant much to her mate to give names to the children that would honor the men in his tribe and those in his family.

  And she’d not been surprised when he’d named the next child Torsten. She’d wondered why he hadn’t named them after Halvar, his brother, but she wasn’t sure of the ways of his people.

  The grimy, filthy man with wild eyes stared at her as if she were an apparition.

  She bit back a scream and was thankful her children were both napping in the cabin.

  But Calder was out getting water. And she was here alone. With this man with wild eyes and a strange demeanor.

  She grabbed for the hatchet Calder had fashioned for her to keep at hand, one large enough for self-defense, but not so unwieldly as the one he sported for himself.

  The man released a growl as he approached.

  She raised the hatchet. “Stay back.”

  “I know you,” the man snarled.

  “Go away,” she warned him with a thrust of the hatchet.

  He wasn’t close enough to strike, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to allow him to be.

  A crunching to her left almost made her look. Almost. But she kept her eyes on the man.

  Did he have friends? Would she be under attack from several of them? She took small sideways steps to get between the stranger and their cabin.

  “Go,” she snapped, still keeping her eyes on the man.

  Then came the last sound she wanted to hear.

  “Mama?” Gunnar’s voice came from behind her.

  “Stay there, Gunnar,” she cautioned her son.

  “Gunnar?” the wild man said.

  “Halvar?” Came from her left where she’d heard the crunching.

  Except that was Calder’s voice. She cast a sideways glance. Calder was staring at the man.

  Wait. He’d said, Halvar. That was the name of Calder’s brother.

  She stared at the man. Could it be?

  It was!

  Calder came running toward the large man and enveloped him in a bear hung. “Halvar! I thought you’d perished.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Calder held Halvar at arms’ length, his hands on his brother’s shoulders, and he took stock of the man he’d thought dead, and hadn’t seen in so long—since that day, that fateful day.

  Tears streamed down Halvar’s cheeks, leaving light streaks on his grimy skin.

  Calder was speechless. In all the years, he’d never seen his brother cry. Never seen a sign of weakness. He’d not always agreed with Halvar’s ways or decisions, and definitely didn’t share his ethics in certain areas, but he loved his brother and respected his military acumen.

  Seeing Halvar cry touched a part of Calder he didn’t know he had.

  He pulled Halvar in close, hugging him fiercely. “Where have you been, brother?”

  Halvar coughed, cleared his throat and pulled away, swiping his cheeks with pawlike hands, leaving horizontal stripes across the vertical steaks, making a crisscross pattern on his face.

  “I escaped the hell that witch rained down on our men. She killed our bears. Or at least, she may as well have. None of us could shift. My bear has fallen silent, imprisoned as if he’s encased in a box of ice.”

  Calder nodded glumly. He knew all about that. He’d still not been able to free his bear. This failure tore at him daily, hearing his bear’s mournful call for release, but being powerless to free him, powerless to shift into his bear.

  Halvar studied his face. “And your bear?”

  Calder shook his head. “The same as yours.”

  “It was that cursed witch, she cursed us. All of us. And she—” Halvar pointed at Brenna, “she is one of them. She is behind this as well. Just as guilty as the witch.”

  Calder shook Halvar’s shoulders lightly. “She is not, brother. She saved my life.”

  Halvar scoffed and appraised Brenna through narrowed eyes where she stood at the cabin’s entrance, Gunnar peeking from between her legs.

  Calder pulled Halvar’s attention back to him with another shake. “Listen to me. She is my woman. The mother of my sons. She saved me. She can come to no harm.”

  Halvar frowned. “Gunnar, the boy she called to… that is your son?”

  “As is the infant. Torsten. The next one would be named Halvar.”

  A grim smile curved Halvar’s lips upward, slightly, as though hesitant to give much emotion away. “And you say she’s a good woman? She saved you?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Maybe I should reconsider my opinion of her.”

  Calder didn’t tell his brother that for his own sake, it would be best if he did. Harboring ill will toward Brenna would not bode well in Calder’s home. He’d not be able to harbor his brother and g
ive him a place to stay if he warred with Brenna, for Calder’s allegiance was firmly with his woman. “That would be good,” he told his brother. “How did you manage to escape?”

  “I don’t know. I was not in the village. I’d got to the woods, and suddenly, was just leaving the cover of the trees when the pain struck me.” Halvar grabbed his head, as though reliving the pain.

  Calder remembered that agony only too well.

  Halvar continued, “I collapsed. I lost consciousness. When I awoke, the men were dead, they were being burned, and my bear was lost to me forever. I thought I was the only survivor.”

  “Brenna pulled me out before they could kill me. Those women—”

  Halvar grunted. “Valkyrie, they called themselves.” He cursed under his breath. “One day, we shall be avenged. In the name of bear shifters, in the name of our tribe, one day…”

  “Valkyrie.” Calder didn’t tell his brother he knew that name. Didn’t tell him that, though he never discussed it with Brenna, he daily cursed the Valkyrie and prayed to the gods that vengeance would belong to his people. “Brenna took me from the foray, hid me in a cave, helped me heal. We have been together since.”

  “You have feelings for her?” Halvar raised a brow. “Or are you with her because you are beholden to her for your life?”

  “She’s my mate. Fated to be mine. There’s never been a doubt in my mind, and there was no doubt in my bear’s mind when he was not—when he was himself.”

  “So, you had feelings for her when she was our captive.”

  “Aye, brother. I did.”

  Halvar nodded as though this admission explained a lot to him. Maybe it did, Calder figured, studying the fire that would need to have more wood put in it. Maybe now Halvar would understand some of Calder’s protectiveness of her.

  “And her husband?” Halvar asked.