by Lee Savino
I cradled the woman closer.
Rolf? I winced, but the path to my warrior brother remained strong, worn and comfortable after many decades of use.
I heard. Rolf replied. I’m almost to the village, but something is wrong here. Do not bring the woman this way.
With a sigh, I hunched down to wait. The woman made a little noise of protest.
“Hush, sweet one,” I whispered, and her whimper subsided. I nuzzled her closer. How long had it been since I held a woman? Longer than I could remember. She was so soft and warm, her scent sweet. I never believed I’d hold someone like her in my arms.
“Why are you doing this?” She kept her eyes downcast, and her voice wobbled. Sage, she said her name was. An herb. She smelled like a garden, flowers, and honey. Underneath her thin garment, her nipples pebbled in the cool night air. I could so easily tear her shift away, and bare her secrets.
“You belong to us now,” I told her, rubbing her arms to smooth away the goosebumps. She submitted, bowing her head. I wanted to cuddle her close, breathe her in until her scent surrounded me, tell her she was safe, now and forever.
“I don’t understand,” she muttered.
I tipped her face up to mine. By the moon, I could not resist her. We were in the middle of escaping, and I wanted to kiss her, lay her down and pleasure her. She was a blend of innocence and determination. She’d remained calm in the face of danger. There were not many men who could do that.
“You need not fear, Sage.” I tested her name, when she raised her head, the beast roared inside me, triumphant. It paced inside me, starved for any bit of attention, any acknowledgement.
“Please, let me go,” the woman whimpered.
I gathered her in my arms, letting her scent enfold me like a shining cloak. “Hush, dear one,” I murmured, and felt her still. “There’s an evil being after you, and we vowed to rescue you, as we rescued your friend Hazel.”
She sucked in a breath. “Hazel?”
“Yes, your friend.”
“She’s alive?”
“She is mated to my friend Knut, a great warrior.”
“How can this be?” she breathed.
I placed a finger to her lips. “All will be revealed, sweet one.”
She trembled under my touch. I pressed a hand to the side of her head, holding her against me and sheltering her at the same time.
Mist pooled thick in the road. It stirred and seemed to come alive, skating across the path to chase us.
Hurry, Rolf. The weather turns.
It is not the weather. It is the Corpse King. We should be away from this place, quickly.
The wind stirred the trees, carrying a rotten stench. The scent of the Corpse King’s undead servants. He must have sent the draugr to reclaim the spaewives.
Thorbjorn, run! They are coming up the road. Draugr. The Grey Men. I can sense them.
I scooped Sage up into my arms and strode towards the forest. No one will take her from us. No one.
Should we fight them?
No, if there is a fight she may not survive it. We must keep control, and keep her away from the Grey Men. We must hide. I crashed into the woods.
Something happened at the village. I smell death, and blood.
Get out of there, Rolf.
His reply came very faint. I will stay and fight… you must escape with our mate.
I slowed my pace, kicking a rock out of my path. Rolf, you must come. I am not leaving without you.
The rage takes me, Rolf’s voice came thick with the Change. Remember our pact. Keep her safe.
Cursing, I raced through the woods, hunched over Sage to keep the branches from whipping her. Water, I needed water. The Grey Men would not cross a flowing river. Flowing water snuffed out the magic that animated them.
My link with Rolf frayed, but I did not stop reaching out to him. Escape with us, you fool, or I will pay a skald to sing a song of your cowardice all over this island!
Coming…
With a satisfied grunt, I broke from the trees. Ahead, moonlight glinted off the wide, flowing water. Mist followed us as I skittered down the ravine and plunged into the river.
The woman gasped and squeezed her arms around my neck. When I reached the bank, a spit of sand and river silt in the middle of the current, she came alive.
“Help,” she screamed, her voice carrying across the river. Her body went rigid in my arms as she sat up straight.
A line of men appeared on the top of the ravine, marching down to the river we just crossed. The Corpse King’s servants.
“Hush,” I growled. “They are the enemy.”
She cried out louder, waving her arms. I carried her to the end of the spit, as far away from the Grey Men as I could get. We were right in the middle of the wide river, but too exposed.
Hurry, I sent to Rolf. They are coming.
Mist poured over the ravine, following the Grey Men, consuming them. I cursed. This was a foe I couldn’t cleave with my axe.
A roar shook the air, and my heart leaped at the call. Fur grew on my arms and my nails lengthened to claws, in answer.
I set Sage down and she scrambled away, only to gasp, “What is that?”
Rolf paced on the river bank, in monster form.
“My warrior brother. He fights to protect you.” My own throat clogged with the Change.
My vision winked out and surged back, red. Each time it blinked away and back, I stood several feet closer to the fight. The beast was taking over. I would never be free.
The woman appeared in front of me, her face pale in the moonlight. She backed away, the whites of her eyes showing, horror written on her face.
“What are you?”
I reached for her and she recoiled. “You’re a monster,” she gasped.
“Yes,” I told her. “but you needn’t fear. You are safe from all enemies, for we are the biggest monsters you will ever meet.”
11
Sage
Shaking from the cold river water, I stood rooted as the creature that had once been a man loomed over me.
“Stay…” it barked at me. “Safe.” The words tumbled out of an inhuman mouth. The monster turned and waded back the way we had come.
On the river bank, another creature fought the advancing ranks of men, snarling and tearing into them with vicious claws. Row after row of silent pale guards flowed to the river bank.
My cries froze in my chest as the creatures roared, ripping into their attackers until body parts fell like gruesome rain. The moonlight gave me a clear view of the slaughter.
The black furred creatures snarled and roared like beasts, fighting with liquid movements, almost dancing. Their enemies looked like the soldiers who visited the friar in secret. Hazel had dubbed them “the pale guards” for their skin was pale and unhealthy.
More silent ranks of men marched down the bank to attack the creatures. Their efforts were hopeless, but they came anyway, silent and expressionless, moving stiffly as if puppets on a string. The moon illuminated the faces of the men fighting on the bank. I gasped. They were not all pale guards. I recognized a few men from the village. Had they come to rescue me?
I scrambled down the rocks to the water, shouting and waving my hands, but they did not heed me. Instead, they waited, scythes and skinning knives in hand, as if they’d armed themselves with whatever meager tool they had. They were farmers and fishermen, not fighters. The black-furred monsters would kill them with a simple, almost casual blow. Still they marched forward.
But why? The monsters were large enough to easily kill them. Why would the men of the village come to rescue me? Why did they march in eerie silence?
What could I do to save them?
A few broke away and came towards me, finding rocks further down the river to clamber onto. I strained to my tiptoes, shouting across the water. “You must go,” I shouted. “Leave me with them. They will kill you if you come.”
As they grew closer, the moonlight molded the men’s features�
��their flesh seemed scaly and old.
I fell silent. Something was wrong.
One of the silent men fell into the water, and hissed, jerking as if tormented before he went still. His companions marched right over him, using his limp body as a stepping stone.
“Sage,” bellowed one of the monsters. “Keep away from them!”
The closest man leapt from the last river stone to the ground where I stood. Something wasn’t quite right about the way he moved. I stared him in the eye, but the light of life had died long ago. His flesh stank as if had rotted on his bones.
The dead man reached for me.
“Help,” I squeaked, and tried again, louder. “Help!”
“Run,” one monster roared at me. The other leapt into the river, swimming with frantic strokes that dragged its heavy body through the water.
Scrambling back, I grabbed a branch and waved it. My hands slipped on the slimy bark. “Stay away,” I told the dead man. He moved in jerks, faster than I’d thought possible, and lunged at me.
A black blur from the left tackled the dead man, and sent him flying into the second monster’s claws. Curved and shining white, the claws struck like knives, and made short work of the strange, pale man.
The head rolled to my feet.
“Come,” one of the monsters reached for me, slime oozing from its paw.
I backed away, but the ground dropped out from under my feet. My lungs seized in the shrinking air.
“Sage.” One of the monsters changed, shrinking, his features becoming something close to human again. “Safe. You are safe with us.”
“No,” I croaked, swaying as my vision blurred. I couldn’t go with the monsters, or the pale guards. I wanted to back to the abbey, lie down and sleep forever. I wasn’t safe there, perhaps I had never been, but at least my world hadn’t been filled with monsters.
“She’s fainting. Catch her,” one growled at my side. Strong arms banded around me. My feet left the ground. Twin orbs of golden light followed me as I fell into darkness.
I came awake with a start. Cool air wafted over my face, and I wondered if I had fallen asleep outside, as I had planned. I had the strangest dream…
Warmth seeped into me—thick fur under my cheek. I wanted to lie there and let the heat carry me back to sleep.
The pillow rose and fell. It was breathing.
I sat up and stared into the eyes of a wolf.
I jerked back, a scream clogging my throat.
“No, lass,” said a gruff voice. “It’s all right.” The bearded warrior crouched close, hand outstretched as if to calm me.
The wolf came to its feet and I froze.
“Where am I?” I croaked. “What has happened?”
The bearded warrior bent back over the pile of sticks, flint stone in his hand. “We’re in the bowels of a hill. A cave we found by following the river. The Grey Men do not like water.” He lit the fire as I absorbed this.
The abbey, overrun with warriors. A race to the forest, a mist creeping up the road. Thin, sallow men attacking a monstrous form on the river bank.
It wasn’t a dream.
I curled into myself, wrapping my arms around my bent legs.
The wolf watched me, unblinking.
“I’m Thorbjorn.” The kneeling warrior dusted off his hands and reached for a small pouch lying on the sandy floor. “The wolf is Rolf. He means you no harm. He likes you.”
I swallowed several times to wet my mouth. He spoke of the wolf as if it was a man. He must be mad.
Then, I remembered the wolf changing form, transforming before my very eyes into a lithe and muscled man. Perhaps I had lost my mind as well.
As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I made out the sandy floor and dank walls of the cave. Water flowed past us, a few yards from where we sat. Damp air moved over me, carrying a rotten stench.
I coughed, and the warrior offered a waterskin.
“Drink, little one. I will have food soon.”
If the warrior wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t have to poison the water. I drank deeply, but when he offered a strip of dried meat, I shook my head.
“I cannot.” I pressed a fist to my stomach.
He frowned but nodded.
The wolf whined.
“Don’t worry,” Thorbjorn said to it. “We have plenty of time to fatten her up.”
I stiffened. Did the warrior intend to feed me to his pet? If so, they would’ve taken the friar, not me. He was fatter. I relaxed a hair.
“What do you want with me?” I asked as the warrior fed the fire.
“Right now? Keep you safe, get a decent meal into you. The Alphas want us to stay here, might be here a few days.”
Another cough tore up from my chest. The wolf and warrior exchanged glances.
“Come sit close to the fire, little one.”
I stayed where I was. The fire looked warm, but the large warrior squatting beside it was the most intimidating man I’d ever seen. Except he wasn’t a man. He’d turned into a giant hulking thing, taller than a human, covered in black fur like a wolf. I met his eyes, golden like the creature on the river bank.
“I don’t bite,” Thorbjorn cocked his head. “Neither does Rolf. Not unless you want us to.”
I felt a giddy rush of something—I’d left the cliff edge of fear, and was falling. Why did I care about digging a deeper grave? “Why would I want you to bite me?”
“You might be surprised what you want when the mating heat takes you.” He gazed at me as if waiting for more questions.
Ignoring him, I stood and walked stiffly to the other side of the small fire.
The wolf trotted behind me, carrying the pelt in his teeth. He lay it down and backed away.
I hesitated.
“It’s all right, Sage. Rolf only wants your comfort. He also cleaned the place up for you, to make sure there were no jetsam to skewer your arse.”
A few feet away, flotsam and jetsam of river deposit had been pushed aside, and the sand under my feet looked like a branch had raked over the sand.
“Thank you,” I told the wolf. Maybe if I treated it like a man it wouldn’t bite me. I’d never ask for a bite, no matter what the mad warrior said.
Thorbjorn chuckled. “Oh, if he hadn’t lost his heart to you before, he has now.”
This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had. “Back at the abbey… he turned into a man.”
“Yes, it’s a curse.” Thorbjorn shrugged.
A puff of wind, scented like the air after rain, and the wolf rose to two feet. The man had dark hair and eyes, and tanned skin. His body was hard, honed like a weapon, naked but for a loincloth.
Darkness crept in the corner of my vision, and I swayed, gripping my legs tighter in an effort to stay conscious and upright.
“Hello, Sage,” the half-naked man rasped.
“Whoa girl.” Thorbjorn caught me when I would have fallen backwards. He scooped me into his arms, cradling me against his chest. I clung to him, fingering the torn edges of his sleeves. They must have ripped when he changed form.
“I am going mad,” I said faintly. “Either that or I am dreaming.”
“You are not mad.” Thorbjorn’s deep voice rumbled through me.
“It’s all right,” Rolf rasped. “I will never hurt you.” He crowded closer. I shrank away, but pressed against Thorbjorn’s chest, there was nowhere to run.
“Shhh,” Thorbjorn soothed, his lips by my ear. He tightened his hold, but shifted so Rolf could easily touch me.
The man who was once a wolf bent over me. His face was clean-shaven, which struck me as odd. Shouldn’t he be hairy as a wolf?
“Look at him, Sage,” Thorbjorn murmured. “Touch him. He’s real as you or me.”
I reached out a hand and traced Rolf’s cheekbone. He closed his eyes, his lashes lay against his tan skin, black and long as a girl’s.
A sigh shuddered through me. Pressed between the two men, I breathed in their wild, woodsy scent. Their warmth seeped in
to me.
“See? We mean you no harm,” Thorbjorn said, and nuzzled my hair.
I dropped my hand. “My friends. Are they all right?”
With reluctance, Rolf moved away. Thorbjorn set me on my feet.
“They are with the rest of our pack. They will not be harmed. You needn’t fear for them, Sage,” Thorbjorn answered.
I pulled away, and the warriors let me go, though Thorbjorn’s hand hovered at my side, in case I fell. For all their violence, they both handled me with care.
Thorbjorn’s gaze fell to my arms, and I tugged down my sleeves, covering the bruises.
“What about the friar?” I asked.
Rolf growled. Even in human form, the predator in him lurked close to the surface.
“We won’t speak of him,” Thorbjorn said. His eyes glinted in the dim light.
The last I saw of the friar he’d been begging for his life. “Did you—?”
Thorbjorn nodded. “A clean death.”
I sank back down onto the pelt. I should cross myself, pray for the friar’s soul. But I could not bring myself to do it.
Rolf took up an axe and left. I huddled on the pelt as the bearded warrior built up the fire. The smoke flowed away in the direction of the stream.
I dozed, waking when I coughed. Fog settled in my chest. I stirred with restless dreams. Wolves invaded the orphan’s dormitory, snarling white teeth and bright gold eyes. The friar sat by and laughed and laughed, his stomach torn open like a wild animal had gnawed at him.
I came awake with a little moan.
The rich smell of meat roasting coaxed me to sit up. My stomach rumbled.
The wolf sat regarding me again.
My bones still ached with exhaustion. I was tired, beyond tired, with no energy to feel afraid.
The thick grey cloud streaming through the cave wasn’t smoke, but fog.
A hank of meat turned on a roughly carven spit.
“Good,” Thorbjorn sounded relieved. “You’re awake. Rolf hunted for us. You must be hungry now.” He tore off chunk of meat attached to a bone.
“Here, Rolf.” He handed off the bone end to the wolf, who took it between his teeth. “Bring it to her.”
