by Lee Savino
“Enough of this,” I murmured to her as she turned a pale and petrified face to me. “Enough hiding our strength so you will not fear. You will grow used to us, and learn you are not in danger here.” I set her on the bed.
“Please, I don’t want you to hurt me,” she shrank under the blanket, still caught in a dream. “I can work, I promise. I’ll be good…”
“You are not to work, nor serve us.” I pulled the blanket from her hands and tucked it around her. “It is our turn to care for you. You will sleep,” I ordered. “Close your eyes.”
Her lashes fluttered against her cheek and her breathing evened out.
I wiped my brow of sweat. My heart raced as if I’d run a mile. I let myself slide down to the floor with a thump. I’d fought whole armies, watched my comrades lose their minds, spent years in agony fighting the beast’s feral nature. But as I watched Sage writhe and moan in the grip of fevered nightmares, I knew that caring for her might be the hardest thing we’d ever do.
Rolf? How goes it?
Sage is safe. I threw another log on the fire. The wood the witch had stocked here let off a pleasant smoke.
Did she wake?
Not really. She did something strange.
The woman twitched in sleep, moaning a little. I laid a hand on the coverlet, not daring to breath. After a moment, the lines on her face smoothed and she let out a deep sigh.
What did she do? Thorbjorn sounded impatient.
She woke up and thought she was back at the abbey. I had to change from the wolf to speak to her.
Did she say anything?
She said she couldn’t sleep. She had to finish her duties.
This is what the witch spoke of.
I stiffened, and forced down my sick feelings—nausea, and a touch of impotent rage. I forced myself to remain calm. Did you meet with the witch?
She said the sickness is in our mate’s mind. Sage bears the weight of guilt from what she did at the abbey. She will try to serve us, to stay alive. That is what she knows. She will sacrifice herself to survive.
I gritted my teeth. I strode to the door and almost jerked it open, before I remembered the sound might wake her. My fist pressed against the wood in silent threat. I was a strong wolf. I was no longer weak, and unable to defend myself. If someone came for me, my warrior brother or our mate, I could destroy them.
Are there any left in the abbey we can kill?
Thorbjorn laughed, a vicious sound. You know as well as I we killed the only one we could. And one day we will kill every last servant of the Corpse King, and the mage himself. She will have no enemies to fear. But she must overcome her fear of us.
What can we do?
We do what we planned. Care for her. Cherish her. Teach her she is worthy, no matter if she is ill.
20
Sage
My eyes creaked open. Sweet smoke wafted over me and firelight played on an unfamiliar wall. I stretched and I lay in a large bed, built from sturdy logs, piled high with quilts and a soft mattress. No wonder I had slept so soundly, dry and warm and more comfortable than I’d been in my entire life. My body felt limp, ravaged by weakness and gnawing pain.
“Where am I?” I rasped. The words tore my dry throat.
“Shhh.” The warrior, Thorbjorn, sat on the bed, threading an arm behind my shoulders, propping me up to drink.
I sipped the steaming liquid, pausing when the bitter taste filled my mouth.
“A little more, sweet one. It is an herbal brew. The witch gave us medicine to heal you.”
A snort from the cabin floor. The wolf stretched out before the door, and shook his large head.
“It is good for you,” Thorbjorn insisted, glaring at the wolf, who went back to gnawing his bone. “Rolf doesn’t trust witches.”
“Wise wolf,” I said before choking the bitter liquid down.
When Thorbjorn moved back to the fire, I fell back onto the pillows, weak. So very weak. But at least my throat didn’t scream in pain anymore.
“How long have I been here?”
“A night and a day.” He frowned and stroked his beard. “Time passes differently here.”
I struggled to rise up. “What do you mean?”
“Be still,” Thorbjorn said, and I froze, because it was an order. He fussed over me, plumping the pillows and easing me upright, his touch gentle to bely his stern frown. A bit of grey threaded through his beard, and I was struck by how much I felt like a child, coddled by a doting father. It made me all the more eager to leave the bed.
“You are to rest and become well,” he said. “Rolf will look after you to make sure you don’t leave the bed when I am gone.”
The wolf snorted again.
“We’re in a safe place, a sanctuary. We have limited time here, but if you rest and become well, we can leave without fear of losing a hundred years.”
“What? What is this place?”
“Rolf thinks it’s Álfheimr, or a place between the worlds. He listens to too many of the bard’s tales.” Thorbjorn shook his head, a fond smile on his face. He returned with another cup. I couldn’t resist, but this time the liquid tasted good.
“Another thing,” Thorbjorn fixed me a with a stern look, his black brows knotting. “Rolf said you rose up and tried to leave the cabin. There will be none of that. Your health depends on you resting and taking your medicine. You will do as we order, no more, no less.”
I schooled my face to be meek and docile, but couldn’t stop from heaving a frustrated sigh. “Fine.”
He raised a brow.
“Very well. I want to get well.” I sagged back, feeling exhausted. What would happen to me once I had my strength? I was their mate—but they rejected me. My experience with a man’s lust was limited to the friar, but there was no reason for these warriors to hold back from taking what they wished. The friar had just taken what he wanted. I did not know why these warriors did not do the same.
A finger touched my forehead, and I opened my eyes.
“Such sorrow. You have nothing to worry about here, truly. We will see to your every need.”
“Why?” I didn’t have the strength to dance around the question. “What can I give you that you can’t just take?”
“We are nothing like him.” Gold lit Thorbjorn’s eyes. He sat back, the lines around his mouth and eyes seemed etched in stone. “If I could kill him again, I would,” he murmured.
“He was kind to me. In a way,” I said. “He didn’t beat me too harshly, or starve me like the other girls.” Or tear me from my home.
“You have marks on your arms from him grabbing you. How is that kind?” Thorbjorn stood so quickly, the stool clattered to the ground. I flinched. He opened his mouth to speak, and then shook his head again Red tinged his cheekbones, and his chest heaved as if he’d run for miles. “Watch her,” he ordered the wolf, and left.
I sank back into the pillows, wishing I could hide. Abruptly I sniffed, and wiped at tears that appeared on my cheeks. Curses. I was supposed to regain my strength so I could please my captors, not stew in silly, useless tears.
A weight hit the bed. I gasped as the wolf loomed over me. It grinned, showing me very white, very pointy teeth. Then it turned thrice, it’s long, thin legs avoiding stepping on mine until it plopped down, half draped over me. I wriggled, but while its weight wasn’t enough to crush me or keep me from breathing, the wolf had me well and truly pinned. It turned and licked my face, its rough tongue washing away my tears.
Despite myself I laughed. “All right,” I told it, reaching up to play with its silky ears. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
It laid down with a sigh.
I dozed, starting awake when Thorbjorn burst into the house. The wolf yipped at him.
“Forgive me lass. I didn’t realize you’d sleep.”
“It’s all right,” I yawned.
“I’m going to make you a broth. You’ll be eating a bowlful.”
He tossed the skinned meat bones into a huge
cauldron and set it onto the fire.
The wolf barked.
“I know it’s a witch’s pot,” Thorbjorn grouched. “And you don’t trust her. I don’t trust her either, but she has helped us so far, and who else do we turn to for help?”
“Who are you talking to?” I asked.
“Rolf. He hates witches.”
“He speaks to you when he is a wolf?”
Thorbjorn tapped his temple. “We share a bond. It links our minds.”
The wolf gave me a doggy grin, tongue lolling out. My legs had become numb; I tried to shift them out from under the heavy creature.
“How is that possible?”
“Magic. I’ve long since given up asking questions. Ever since we were cursed to become monsters. You’re a quiet one. Did they not allow you to speak in the abbey?”
I flushed when I realized he was teasing. “I’m not used to being abed all day.”
“Well, you will get used to it. Because until you’re well, you will stay right there.”
The wolf let out another yip.
“I can take care of myself,” I muttered.
Thorbjorn raised a heavy brow. “Even so, little one, you will not cross me. I will not hesitate to take you over my knee, sick or no.”
I flushed. I did not know what overcame me. I never dared speak up against authority at the abbey. These warriors made me feel safe. That was dangerous. I couldn’t forget that they’d kidnapped me, and held my fate in their hands.
“You will allow your mates to care for you. You just follow our lead.”
I sighed and lay back.
Thorbjorn brought the broth bowl and set the stool on its legs before sitting down. “I didn’t mean to leave in such a hurry. Best we don’t speak of the holy one. It gives me a great anger to remember what he did.”
He did nothing that you won’t do, I wanted to point out.
His eyes narrowed as if he heard my thoughts. Maybe he had. There was no telling what was possible in this magical place.
“There’s a difference. You belong to us. We would die before hurting you.”
I pressed my lips together and looked away. The wolf lay his head near my hand and nudged it until I petted him.
Men who became such beautiful creatures surely couldn’t be evil.
“Here lass,” Thorbjorn said in a deep and tender voice, “Let’s fill your belly.”
I reached for the spoon and he held it away.
“I’ll feed you.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No, but you are as weak as one. I’ll not risk handing you a bowl until I know you won’t spill it.”
He fed me slowly, heat in his eyes. He watched every pause, every move. The wolf watched too.
When I could eat no more, I waved the bowl away. Thorbjorn looked as if he might insist I finish the rest of the broth, so to distract him I asked, “How do you know I am your mate?”
The gold light in his eyes flared.
The wolf whined.
“Your scent.” He said in a thick voice. “Your sweetness. Your beauty calls to us, but we cannot resist the way you calm our beast.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
His hand clasped my leg under the blanket, slid down to hold my ankle. The movement sent a tremor of excitement through me, centering on my secret place between my legs. My heart tripped faster.
“Make no mistake. We want everything you have to give. But not now. There is time, little one. For now, you will be as a babe for us to keep and care for. This place is removed from our world. We have time to coddle you as a child, until you emerge a woman, reborn.”
Being kept as a babe meant when it was time for me to use the privy, Thorbjorn and the wolf both came to steady me. I blinked back frustrated tears at my weak limbs, turning my head when Thorbjorn cleaned me. He placed me back in bed and I cried until the wolf climbed back up and licked my face clean.
“You have no reason to hide from us,” Thorbjorn said, lines creasing his forehead. “We are your mates. We will see to your every need.”
I turned my head away. I was wasted to nothing, and useless. Surely, when the warriors realized this, they would cast me out?
The wolf lay his head down on my lap, and nudged my hand until I stroked his silky fur. Somehow, I felt better.
I must have fallen asleep, for when I woke, Thorbjorn had left, and the warrior Rolf now stood in his two-legged form, crouched near the fire, wearing only a loincloth. The old Sage would blush and cross herself to ward off wicked thoughts, but I was too weak to care.
He bent over a bucket, knife in hand, and drew the blade carefully up his neck, slicing the stubble away. As a man, he was well formed, lithe and strong, his muscles cut into tanned skin. With his narrow face and lean body, he was smaller than his warrior companion, but moved with no less grace or power. I craned my head to watch him as he finished shaving, using the water in the bucket as a mirror. He cut his hair short, taking care to gather up every hair and toss it into the fire. When he was done, he looked into the bucket and smiled at his reflection. My heart stuttered in my chest.
“Do you like my looks?” he asked, without looking up from the water.
I flushed and jerked back into the safety of the pillows. His chuckle followed me. I couldn’t help look up when he walked into my line of sight, stretching until his spine cracked. The sound reminded me of the way he shifted forms.
“What happens to your clothes when you become a wolf?” I asked.
“I take care to strip before the Change, else I must bite and tear my way out. And when I return, I have nothing to wear. I set aside my knives and weapons, also. Wolves need none, for we have sharp teeth.” He smiled at me, and the tightness in me eased.
“You often take wolf form, more than Thorbjorn.”
He shrugged. “I am a scout and a tracker. I move more silently in wolf form, and better to surprise my enemies.”
“Is Thorbjorn a tracker also?”
“Thorbjorn is a leader. He led the raid on the abbey.”
I flicked my gaze down. I could not forget how these men kidnapped me. My friends had been so afraid during the raid, screaming and crying. Who else had lost their life that night?
A shadow stirred at my side. Rolf moved quick and quiet as a wolf, even in man form.
“Hey,” he cupped my chin. These men had no qualms about touching me, but instead of distress, it gave me relief. They were so big and brutal, ready for violence, yet my body sighed whenever they reminded me how gentle they could be. “Thorbjorn did everything he could to ensure the spaewives would be safe.”
“You frightened us.”
His thumb stroked my lower lip. “We saved your life, for the price of a little fear. Will it mean you can never come to care for us?”
I just stared at him, and he sighed.
“Sage, we wanted to send word ahead, but there was no time. If we could have bought you from the friar, one by one, or found any other way, we would have. But the attack had to be a surprise, or else the spies of the Corpse King would alert their master. Even so, the holy man sent warning, and the enemy forces came.”
“What is he? The Corpse King?”
“A terrible foe. We have not fought him at his full strength. I pray that day will never come. From what we can tell, he bribed the friar to gather the spaewives at the orphanage.”
“Most of us came to the orphanage as babes.”
“The Corpse King’s servants may have sought out women with spaewife magic, and taken their female children.”
“Rosalind’s family gave her and her sister up. They were the two girls, and there were too many mouths to feed.”
“It is possible your family accepted payment for you. More likely, the Corpse King found a way to take you.”
I fell silent. I always thought, as an orphan, I was unwanted. It had never occurred to me that someone had wanted me enough to buy or steal me away.
Rolf’s brow furrowed. “I di
d not mean to cause you distress.”
I shook my head. “I am not distressed.”
His hand slid around to the back of my neck and squeezed. “You cannot lie to me. I am your mate, I can sense your feelings.”
I did not want to dwell on that. “So what happened to the other girls? The ones who disappeared? The friar told us he’d found them husbands.”
“The holy man gave them to the Corpse King.”
“Are… are they still alive?”
He hesitated, and I knew the answer. I shook my head, biting my lip. The older girls I hadn’t known, but some of the more recent I had grown up with. They thought they were being sent to rich husbands, men wealthy enough to pay a bride price for a virgin. Of course, some of the orphans escaped this fate by becoming nuns.
He pulled me into his chest, guiding my arms around him. I couldn’t help clinging to him. “The Corpse King uses spaewives to grow his power. Before we set out to claim the abbey, all Berserkers swore an oath. We will not let him hurt any of you again.”
Slowly, my strength returned. Enough so when Thorbjorn offered me a draught of bitter herbs, I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.
“Careful, little one. You’re not big enough to fight me.”
“I can refuse to drink.”
Thorbjorn cocked his head to the side, his beard hiding a grin. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll punish you,” Rolf uncrossed his arms and rose from where he had been leaning against the wall in shadow. He’d been hanging around more and more, though I often didn’t notice him until he wanted me to. Even in man form, he seemed more like a wolf, a wary, waiting predator.
I gulped.
“Not harshly. And not in a way that will cause permanent harm.” Thorbjorn glared at Rolf. “You don’t have to scare her.”
“She’s not scared. She’s testing you, brother.”
“Oh, aye?” Thorbjorn gave me appraising look. “In that case, know that any disobedience will be met with the broad side of my palm on your bare back side.”
“I’ll drink,” I said, and held out my hand for the cup. Thorbjorn set it to my lips, and held it until I finished.
