by Lee Savino
“No.” It felt so good to answer. Hazel was the first to ask me outright, instead of assuming.
“But you did hit her?”
“I had to, Hazel. You must believe me.” Please, believe me, when no one else will.
A pause, and she jerked her head decisively. “I do.”
“Sorrel?” A rough, distant voice called. Vik.
“I must go,” I whispered, and wriggled backwards through the brush without saying more.
Crouching, Hazel called softly after me. “Be safe, my friend.”
I wriggled back the way I’d come. I reached my spot by the boulders a moment before Vik poked his head around and beckoned.
“Come.”
“Are we still going to hunt?” I straightened, brushing dried leaves off my jerkin, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Of course.” Grasping my hand, he lengthened his stride until I ran alongside.
“You think it wise?” Ahead, Thorsteinn waited on the path. He’d clapped the visiting warriors on the shoulder, almost friendly, but now he wore a scowl. “Doesn’t the pack want to see me punished?”
“Oh, we told them you were locked in a cage too tight to move,” Vik said.
I sucked in a breath, but then he winked at me and I knew he jested.
“I can bear a cage,” I informed him. “It would be a nice rest.”
“There’d be no rest for you in the cage I have in mind,” he murmured with dark glee. “But it would not be punishment. Only pleasure.”
“What sort of cage is that?” I stopped short on the path, and he chuckled, pushing me along.
“Misbehave and you’ll see. And as for the pack, let us worry about them,” he spoke in a louder tone as we reached Thorsteinn. “If you stay close, and do as we bid, you’ll be all right.”
“Disobedience has consequences,” Thorsteinn intoned, and I almost stuck my tongue out at him.
The rest of the day, we spent hunting, only stopping to eat and drink, and fill our waterskin at the stream. Either we were in a secluded corner of the mountain, or Thorsteinn had warned his packmates off, but we saw no one but birds and squirrels and rabbits.
“You’re good with the bow,” Thorsteinn told me after I brought down three squirrels with a clean shot to the head. I flushed at his serious compliment. “You have skill.”
“I practiced,” I told him shortly. He ran his hand over my short hair thoughtfully.
“I remember you telling us you had plans to escape the abbey, live in the wild.”
“I did. I had my own bow and arrows, and boots and breeches I’d made.” I tromped to pick up my last kill and handed it to Vik to secure on the string. “I hoarded supplies and hid them from the nuns.”
“Is that why you were beaten? Did they find them?”
“No.” I shuddered to think what the nuns would have done if they’d found my stash. Probably locked me in the dark stillroom or the empty well. I still had nightmares from those punishments levied when I was younger. Everyone knew I feared being locked in the dark. That’s why I hid my things in the stillroom—no one would believe I would return to the site of my worst punishment. “They punished me for other things.”
“Such as?”
I shrugged. “Anything they wanted. I never behaved.”
Thorsteinn started to comment, when a signal from Vik made him haul me behind a tree.
“Boar,” he mouthed and pointed to a huge shape lumbering at the base of a chestnut tree. At his nod, I notched my bow.
“You must kill it quick. It’s a huge one. I did not know there were any of this size left on the mountain.” He smiled. “Thor smiles on us this day.”
Peering out from the pine, I raised my bow and took aim. A flowering bush blocked a clean shot. I kept sighting down the bow, waiting for the boar to move.
“Patience,” Thorsteinn murmured.
I gritted my teeth. My arrows were more suited to hunting small game, but if I could make a killing shot… I waited, tension growing every second. If I killed it, what would I prove? I was a good shot? Would the warriors praise and be proud of me? For a moment the boar blurred, and Rosalind stood in its place. My fellow orphan. She was cruel to me, and I avoided her, but we were still more alike than different. The girls I’d grown up with were the only family I’d known. Even if Rosalind tormented me, she was still like a sister to me.
I hadn’t wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t run. I had only followed her, wanting to save her. I’d tried to convince her to come home. She’d ignored me, marching on. I hadn’t left her.
She’d gone straight to the Corpse King, and I had followed. I’d even helped her. Did that make me a traitor like her?
My arms grew heavy. I dropped the bow.
“I can’t,” I croaked. I had hit Rosalind. In the end I hadn’t protected her at all.
“What’s wrong, little warrior?” Thorsteinn’s hand stroked the back of my neck.
“Tell us. We will listen.”
“I did it,” I whispered. “I tried to kill my friend. I didn’t want to, but she gave me no choice.”
“It was self-defense?” Vik asked.
I bit my lip, wanting to say yes. Not knowing how I could without naming Rosalind traitor.
Suddenly, I couldn’t bear the quiet. Raising my bow, I loosed an arrow. It flew blindly and only the boar’s bellow of rage told me it struck.
Thorsteinn thrust me behind him. “Stay out of sight,” he ordered. The boar thrashed and stomped, tearing through the flowered bush and destroying it. It was headed our way.
Cursing, Thorsteinn pushed me. “Run!”
I started to flee but looked back. Thorsteinn stood firm, facing the boar. He would stop the boar or get gored trying. While I ran. I was a coward.
With shaking arms, I raised my bow and took aim. The boar charged. Thorsteinn stood firm. His figure became Rosalind’s, the boar a dark skeletal menace, clothed in mist… If I missed my shot, I’d hit Rosalind. I didn’t want to hit her. Did I?
“Sorrel!” Thorsteinn shouted, bringing me back to the light filled clearing. There was no mist, no skeleton. Just Thorsteinn and a boar so large, the ground shook under its pounding hooves. “Sorrel, go!”
Why was he shouting at me? The boar was almost upon him. “Look out!” I shrieked.
With a whoop that stopped my heart, Vik broke from the bush. Axe glinting in the sun, he fell on the boar. The great beast turned, tusks tossing. Distracted, it narrowly missed Thorsteinn. Vik leapt onto its back. The great pig roared, and Vik laughed like a madman, digging his axe into its bristled hide.
Thorsteinn waded in, sending a short spear into the beast’s side. The two warriors fell on it, hacking at its neck. I shrank further into the shadows between the pines.
Dropping my bow and arrows, I ran. I’d done wrong again. Another failure. Another sin on my head. I was crushed with the weight of them.
I ran until the land sloped and I slid. I grabbed at the surrounding branches to slow my skidding descent. At last, the trunk of a hearty bush bent and held in my grip. Just in time. I came to a scrambled stop at a rocky ledge. Nothing but blue sky and a deadly drop.
Heart pounding, I leaned out. The slope ended abruptly. Below lay a long, sheer cliff. No wonder no one came to this side of the mountain. There was no need to patrol when any assaulting enemy was bound to fall to their death.
But if someone slight and small and good at climbing were to make her way down, there’d be no one to stop her from running.
“Sorrel,” the rough cry met my ears. My warriors searching for me. I wriggled back up the slope and picked leaves from my jerkin as I walked back to Vik and Thorsteinn.
They left you. A voice grated, picking at a tiny loose end of my faith, unraveling it. I heard it often at the lodge of the unmated spaewives. Rosalind never ceased her torment.
The boar hung upside down from a tree, ready to be turned into meat.
“Sorrel,” Vik stuck his axe into a tree trunk and came to me, stopp
ing before he ran a bloody hand over my head. “You’re unhurt.”
“I ran,” I said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help—”
“You did well,” Thorsteinn said. “I told you to run.”
“Yes.” But I still felt like a coward.
“We should not take her on the hunt,” Vik said, crouching to wipe his hands on the leaves. “It is too dangerous.”
“Sorrel did well,” Thorsteinn regarded me with granite eyes. What did he see?
I shivered and wrapped my arms around my body. Vik dropped a pelt over my shoulders and wrapped it around me, fussing like a girl dressing her doll.
“We’ll carve up the boar, soon. In the meantime, we’ll build a fire. Can you help, little warrior?”
I nodded
“Stay close to us. We have called some of the pack to help us transport the meat. It would not do for you to cross paths with them.”
Miserably, I agreed.
While the warriors prepped their kill, I wandered through the trees, gathering sticks. Vik and Thorsteinn discussed cooking the meat here. Perhaps they’d build a giant bonfire and celebrate their hunt. Call their warrior brothers to drink and eat. Would they first have to tie me to a tree, like a disobedient dog? I would not be welcome by the pack’s fire.
I was not welcome anywhere. Wandering out of the warrior’s sight, I let my armful of kindling drop. My head ached. So did my body, with old, remembered punishments. It would be good to lie down and pretend.
I’d wandered into a patch of mist. Cold and thick, it reminded me of the Corpse King’s fog. It was such a relief to lie down and close my eyes and pretend to be nothing. Pretend to be dead.
A crow cawed nearby. I rolled and realized how close I was to the cliff’s edge. So many people’s problems would disappear when I did.
I lay back on the comforting ground. The mist flowed over my face, covering me like a death shroud. Vik and Thorsteinn would be busy skinning the boar, preparing it for transport. At some point they’d come searching for me, but I couldn’t face them. Suddenly, all I could think of was escape.
Gripping the bush tight, I leaned out. It wouldn’t take much. Just a careful descent. With the right handholds, a light body could climb down the cliff. The Berserkers could not follow fast enough to catch me.
I could be free. And they wouldn’t have to bother with me. They could choose another mate. It hurt to think of it, but I’d be long gone. I had the skills to survive the wild. Ironically, the warriors had taught me the skills I’d need most.
And if met my death, so be it. No one wanted me anyway.
Sorrel, a voice whispered in my head. The merest brush of consciousness, like a light streaming in through cracks in a door. Before it could entice me, I slammed the door shut.
Time to leave.
I wriggled down the hill, escape on my mind. The mist flowed around me, twin white streams. I caught a whiff of rot—
The shadowed skeleton reached out a hand—I drew my sling—
I sat upright. I was on the cliff ridge, my legs dangling over the edge. Why was I here? My head ached.
Jump over… The sinister whisper echoed in my ears. But that could not be right, I did not want to die. All I’d ever wanted was to live my life in peace. A secluded hut deep in the wilderness. Away from everyone.
Climb down...
The wind whistled between the rocks. Far below my feet, the mist gathered, thick as a cloud. I rubbed my head. I could not be thinking of climbing down. Not from this height. It would be certain death.
I pulled myself back. The mist coiled behind me, a snake ready to strike.
You cannot go back. Thorsteinn and Vik will never want you.
I curled in on myself, pressing a hand to my breastbone to counteract the pain. The voice was right. I could never be the mate they deserved. My only recourse was to escape. Now. Down the cliff. The mist will show me the way.
Holding a root, I extended a leg to find the first foothold…
The root broke and I scrambled, digging my hands into the loam. For a moment, my feet kicked in the air. I lost my grip and with a yelp, I dropped—
And landed on a protruding stone. The wind whistled around me, but I was safe, until I poked my head out to gauge the rest of the way and became dizzy.
Go slowly. Don’t be stupid. Fine things to think when suspended over a deadly drop. This whole enterprise was stupid. What had possessed me to run in the first place?
Worthless, another voice hissed. Run before they do you harm. You aren’t wanted anyway.
Another memory, fighting out of the mist. Come to me. A skeletal hand beckoning, but not to me. To Rosalind. The mist surrounded us, seeping into our bones.
The Corpse King became powerful, the warriors had told me. The mountain was warded, but I had faced the enemy twice. Could I be sure what was in my own head?
No. Not if I was hanging half off a cliff. It was shameful, how easily I succumbed to the Corpse King’s lies.
Now I had to pull myself back up. An easy task when compared to explaining myself to my warriors.
My feet scraped the stones. While searching for a toehold, my balance shifted. The rock under my hand came loose. I yelped and pressed myself to the rock face. My feet dug into the rock, trying and failing to find footholds. My left hand had the only secure hold, but even that was slipping. When it did, there would be nothing to keep me from plummeting to my death.
The wind picked up and cut through me, cold slicing like knives. The stone scraped my cheek. I was so stupid. I had done this, run again. Why?
The mist, the thought tugged me. You lay down and the mist covered you. The same mist that surrounded you and Rosalind.
Stranger things have happened. Vik had said. I heard his voice now, as if he stood behind me and spoke in to my ear. Sorrel—do you think magic was somehow involved?”
If I lived through this, I would tell them the truth, I promised myself. I would tell them everything.
But first I had to live...
A huge hand came out of nowhere and ripped me away from the cliff wall.
My captor pulled me aloft. I came face to face with a monster. Black, with a splash of silver on its elongated snout. Thorsteinn. And he was angry, his golden eyes burning me.
I opened my mouth and he roared. My hair blew back from my face and I shut my mouth. Now was not the time to explain.
He dragged me back to the campfire where Vik waited, arms crossed on his chest. I ducked my head so I didn’t have to meet his eyes.
Sorrel, the voice came again. It was definitely Vik’s. I’d heard him along with the Corpse King. Was I going mad?
Vik crouched and looked me carefully in the eye.
“She’s in shock. What happened?”
“I caught her making her escape. Climbing off a cliff.”
“I wasn’t leaving,” I protested. “I started to, but then I realized it was futile and stopped.”
“Not soon enough,” Thorsteinn snarled and I winced. “We know you wish to escape. To run. But we cannot tolerate you putting yourself in harm’s way.”
I didn’t wish to escape, though. Not until I’d heard the Corpse King’s treacherous voice. Here with the warriors it all became clear. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
“We know,” Vik murmured. “Sorrel, can you tell us what happened?”
“It was the mist,” I said. “The mist made me feel… heavy. It confused me.”
“Did it?” Vik murmured.
“I think I know what we’re dealing with,” Thorsteinn growled. He was fully man again, gathering his hair behind his head and braiding it. “The Corpse King has many weapons.”
“The mist told me—” I stopped.
“Go on,” Vik prodded me gently.
“It told me you don’t want me. That it was better for me to run… and die…”
“Listen well,” Thorsteinn was over me in a second, snarling, “You belong to us.”
I knotted my hands in my lap.
“You can’t wish to keep me.”
“You believe lies,” Vik insisted. “The Corpse King is in your head, and he twists your thoughts. but he is not strong enough to defeat you.”
“We thought he put up walls between us, but in truth the walls are yours. And we will breach them, one way or another. Together we will tear them down.”
He and Vik exchanged glances before stiffening.
I heard it then, the crack of a branch in the woods. Someone was coming towards us, and not bothering to be quiet about it.
“Incoming,” Vik warned.
“They cannot see her like this,” Thorsteinn brushed at my clothes. I looked like I’d been rolling down a hillside—which I had.
“Time to put on a show. You can do that for us, right, little wolf?” Vik caught my chin, something in his expression pleading.
“Yes?” I looked from one warrior to another. What was I agreeing to?
“Then fight me,” Thorsteinn growled, and pounced.
The flock of Berserkers came upon us wrestling, Thorsteinn clad in a torn jerkin and breeches from his Change, me wriggling like an eel to escape him. Vik greeted the visiting warriors. Sure enough, they all glared at me. One I recognized from his visits to the lodge.
“Jarl, you did not have to leave your post.”
“I wanted to see how you fared with your charge,” Jarl said.
I forgot for a moment to fend off Thorsteinn and he pounced, lifting me by the back of my jerkin, like a kitten carried by the scruff of its neck. Nose to nose with Thorsteinn, I dangled in his hold. “You will do as we order,” he growled.
“I am not your pet.” My old angry litany was easy to repeat, but now I had to stifle a smile.
“Oh,” Thorsteinn pretended to fume, “but you are.”
“I see she is not quite tamed,” Jarl said.
“No. But it is better when they fight,” Vik drawled. “We enjoy it.”
Holding Thorsteinn’s gaze, I kicked. He twisted to avoid a blow to his sensitive parts, dropping me. I rolled to my feet and scampered off.
“Enough,” Thorsteinn thundered but I kept running, only to find my feet dancing in air as he snatched me back. “Enough,” he closed his teeth around my earlobe and bit gently. I went limp in his arms, only to stiffen as he carried me back to the group of warriors.
