by K. A Knight
Tonight’s topic of conversation is the past. A stupid subject if you ask me, but Vassy brought it up and it’s not like we have anything better to do.
“Might as well tell us, Doc. We might not make it till morning. You don’t seem the type to want adventure, and you sure as shit don’t like people, so why the fuck did you come?” I ask casually as I lean back on the cell wall. My head tilted to see the other cells.
“True. It was over a girl. We were… well we were sort of together. She was three years younger. When you turn eighteen, they make you decide what you want to do. She picked patrol. First year she was fine, I hated watching her go out, not that she would ever know. Then one day she didn’t come back. After that, I volunteered for every patrol just to try and find her. But I never did. People said she left, people said she died. But I have to keep looking… when you came. You gave me hope, if you could survive for so long when people thought you were dead… then maybe she could.” He takes a deep breath and I see the tears glistening on his cheeks. “But then I came here, saw what the world was like, saw what it cost you to survive. She wasn’t like you. She wasn’t a fighter. She could shoot a gun but not much else. If a warrior like you struggles to survive, then there isn’t a chance she would have.” He turns to me then, his eyes heartbroken. I know the look; I saw it for years in my own eyes. “It made me hate you, made me resent you. That wasn’t fair, and I am sorry.”
Well, fuck. I nod my head and offer him a smile. “We didn’t get off on the best foot. I resented you as well. I hated that you got to live down there, all safe and protected while I was stuck out here. I compared my own pain and past to yours without even knowing you. That wasn’t fair either, I am sorry. Sometimes pain can be found even in paradise.” He nods, his eyes still glistening, and offers me an understanding smile. Now, we might never be best friends but we sure as shit aren’t enemies. If it’s one thing I know, pain has a strange way of bringing people together.
“What about you Vassy, anything you want to get off your chest before we meet the grim reaper?” I joke. Depending on my Berserker stalker to lighten the mood like always.
“If we are sharing it seems only right. I had a wife.” I gasp, I had no clue. “She was a warrior, much like you, little queen. In fact, you remind me of her so much. She wasn’t beautiful, not in the way you are. But her strength and courage gave her beauty and I loved her for it. I fell in love the day she held a knife to my throat and called me a cock-loving bitch. It took me years to wear her down, and when I did, I felt like the happiest man. I didn’t know of Ivar’s madness then, ya see. I was only a lowly patrol, living on the outskirts. We moved in together, she fell pregnant. A big no-no in our world. So, we were going to leave, to run and make a life of it, but then I heard my Noah was in trouble. She told me we were staying, family is family and we take care of our own. We were going to take him with us. I got into the castle, working with the guards. Only then did I see what had become of us. When I got there, it was too late. Noah was dead and his da was heartbroken, screaming of revenge. Treasonous words of killing our King. So we stayed, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. One day, I got home to find her dead. They had found out about the movement and took what was most precious to me as a reminder of what they were capable of. She went down fighting, took four bastards with her, but there were too many. She died with ma unborn babe in her belly and a knife in her hand.” He takes a deep breath before carrying on. “Death comes to everyone eventually, all that you can ask for is that you go out on your own terms and in your own way.”
“Shit,” is the only response I can think of, but Vassy doesn’t mind, he smiles at me. Understanding everything I wish I could say to him.
“It is okay, little queen, we will be together again.”
We go quiet after that, each lost in our own thoughts of those we love. I haven’t let myself think of the guys in days, it’s too painful. I wonder what they are doing right now. Are they searching for me? Fuck, of course they are. I bet those crazy bastards have cut a path through the Wastes with bodies trailing behind them. I just hope they laid Major to rest, it’s the one thing I wish I could have done before I die.
“I have a plan,” I say eventually, breaking through the silence. I hear them both shuffling as they turn to me.
“Yeah?” Doc asks.
“Yeah,” I mimic and smile at his grunt. “Kill Ivar, clear up the clan and put Vassy here on the throne. Then I’ll get my guys, move to the middle of fucking nowhere. Where no one knows my name, my story... I’ll just live,” I finish, imaging it in my head, finally giving life to the thought I barely let myself think.
“I am no King,” Vassy says eventually. I shake my head and he carries on, “No, little queen, I’m no King. Never will be. I don’t have tha strength nor tha instincts. I will stand by your side, but you must become Queen.”
I snort at that, and wince when it shakes my body. “I’m no fucking Queen, I can barely keep myself alive.”
“Not true. You are a fookin Queen if I ever did see one. Ya are stronger than all tha bastards up there, smarter too. Ya would earn their loyalty, ya would bring the clans back together. I have already seen it start to happen. Nah, little queen, I am no King, but I will be your right-hand man.”
I ignore him, rolling my eyes. I don’t want to be Queen, hell, I don’t want to be a Berserker. I just want to be left alone.
The sound of boots stomping down the stairs and keys jangling has us all jumping to our feet. They haven’t come for us at this time before––something is wrong.
Five guards stop between our cells, torches held in the air as they look at us. The big bastard in the middle is the one to speak. “Time to go, slaves.”
“Where are you taking us?” I ask, stepping back into the middle of my cell to have room if need be, old habits die hard after all.
“Ivar is throwing a party, to celebrate his pet’s return. You are the guest of honour,” he sneers and the others laugh.
“What about those two?” I ask, jerking my head to Evan and Vasilisy.
“They are insurance,” he grunts out.
I blow out a breath and hold my hands in front of me. Fucking bastard, using them against me.
I let them shackle me without a fight, as does Vasilisy and Evan, all of us not wanting to fuck anything up in case it gets taken out on the rest of us. One wrong move and it would be the end.
We are dragged up the steps and paraded through the castle, music and laughter fill the air as the sound of men cheering reaches us, but something is screaming at me, pulling at me to get the hell out of here. A feeling in the pit of my stomach that tonight is going to be terrible.
The party is in full swing when we are dragged inside and paraded around like fucking cattle. The place is jammed, every Berserker in the clan must be in here. Cushions line the floor where Berserkers lounge, both men and women, laughing and drinking as they rip into a massive feast. The only table with chairs is at the head of the throne room, where Ivar and his circle sit. The fucking prick lounges in his blood-covered throne, with his crown on his head, and watches it all with an evil smile. He is planning something, that I can tell. He’s too happy, too focused. It can only mean trouble.
A drunk Berserker falls into me, sloshing his beer from his metal goblet all over my clothes and making me grimace. Usually I would have backed away, whimpering out an apology, but I remind myself that I am not here like that again. So, taking the beer, I jerk my head forward, headbutting the drunk bastard so he falls back howling. Keeping my eyes on the downed man who is struggling to get back to his feet, slurs coming from his sloppy mouth, I down the beer. Once I am done, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and throw the goblet at him.
“Get another drink, you clearly need it.” Then I turn away, showing him my back. The Berserkers around us roar with laughter as the man screams at me. I feel pretty good until the metal shackles around my wrist clang and I am dragged into Ivar’s pet torturer’s waiting gra
sp.
I grimace and dig my feet in. I freeze when Ivar holds his hand out and the chains are handed over, the metal slithering across the floor like a snake. My hands are bound together and tied to the chain, controlled by Ivar himself. Vassy is chained to his chair like a dog, not that he cares, or shows he does. He lounges there, pretending to be asleep but I can see his hands twitching and his eyes following Ivar’s every move. Evan is tied in the corner to a chair, forgotten about because they don’t see him as a threat. I find myself getting angrier and angrier all night as women play with him, touching him, teasing him, hurting him, all the while laughing as he bites against the gag and kills them with his eyes. It’s not just the women though, the men are just as bad. I saw one of them shove their hands down his pants and I found my eyes memorising that man before I looked at Evan, telling him with my eyes I would kill him for him. He didn’t look away, instead, we suffered through it together before I was passed to the next Berserker like a fucking trophy. All night, passed around the room until now. Ivar is obviously tired of others playing with his pet. The room quiets a bit as he tugs gently on the chain, making me stumble forward. If I had been at full strength, he wouldn’t have budged me, but as weak as I am, I find myself falling forward. He laughs, and a few others join in, sounding nervous. The women pawing at Evan even leave him alone to come and watch the show they all know Ivar is going to put on. Looking around the crowd, I see some uncomfortable, and even angry faces, aimed at Ivar. Maybe there is more to the rebellion inside the camp than I thought.
He tugs again, harder this time, but I am ready. I dig in my feet and fight against the chain, pulling it back towards me until he is pulled forward slightly. It’s a small victory, but one nonetheless. Glaring now, he stands from his throne and the room goes silent. The music stops, the clinking of goblets, even the laughter and joking of the Berserkers all stops.
He slowly winds the chain around his wrist, watching me the whole time and I take a deep breath before I am yanked to him like a wild animal. Stumbling, trying to keep upright, I fight against him but it’s no good. I land at his feet with a groan, my knees hitting the stone floor of the dais hard, jarring my body.
Once there, I raise my head and glare at him, my eyes flicker to Vasilisy for a second as he slowly gets to his knees, his eyes locked on Ivar with a deadly intensity, the hate shining for everyone to see.
“Now, isn’t that better pet, on the floor at my feet where you belong?” his voice booms out before he lets out a laugh. A few others join in, but not as many as I was expecting.
Ignoring them, I slowly get to my feet, even as he yanks on the chain to try and make me get back on my knees. His face turns red and some chuckles sound from the crowd.
“On your knees, slave,” he demands, his nostrils flaring as he starts to get angry. He looks the part of a mad king tonight. Laced up at the side, leather pants hugging his massive thighs, his hair pulled back in straggly honour braids with his crown woven in. The scars on his face highlighted in the harsh lighting. His chest is bare, his Berserker branding a massive tattoo in the middle of his chest, scars scattered around it like a declaration of how strong he is. His body almost vibrates with malice, and his eyes show nothing but hate and anger.
“I’d rather stand,” I drawl casually, and I notice the vein in his forehead bulge. His little torturer steps forward, glee lining his face as he stares at me.
“Want me to teach her a lesson, my King?” There is so much anticipation in his voice.
Ivar taps his chin before shaking his head, his eyes still on me, running up and down my body, making bile rise in my throat. “No, it seems our little pet doesn’t care what we do to her…” He trails off and looks at me again, his eyes lighting up. “But she does care what we do to other people. Tell me, pet. When you found your little boyfriend hanging from the ceiling, did you cry?” He steps forward, dropping the chain he is holding, and his words finally registered. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Vasilisy get to his feet, his hands clenched so tightly I bet his nails are cutting his palms.
“I bet you did. Did you hold him? Touch his dead body? Were you angry at him?” His words are like a blow to my heart, because yes, I was so fucking angry and the fact he knows that kills me. He steps down until we are meters apart. “Do you know what happened to him?” he asks causally. When I don’t answer he picks up his gun casually and aims it at Vasilisy without looking.
Grinding my teeth, I force the words out. “He killed himself.” I choke on them, the words so heinous and filled with pain.
He laughs, before looking back at me, the gun dropping to point at the floor. “Did he?” he asks, winking at me and I go cold, the memory of Noah swinging from the ceiling at The Ring flashing before my eyes…the fight…the pain...the softness in him. My mind whirs as I think it all through before I gasp, looking back at Ivar. I should have known, but I thought… God, I am so stupid.
“Ah, I see you have finally worked it out, I did wonder when you would. It was my last gift to you.” He looks at Vasilisy with a grin before looking back at me, his words rubbing salt into the wound and ripping that heartache back open again. “He cried, you know, he begged and screamed. He was so weak, so fucking pathetic. He said your name like it was a prayer.” Each word is like a blow, and the inferno inside of me starts bubbling until all I see is red. The need to kill him, to make him pay, overwhelms me until I can’t think clearly. I know it’s exactly what he wants, but I can’t seem to care. I let myself go, I let the darkness take over. As he steps closer again I slowly wind in the chain shackled to my wrist like he did. I hear Vasilisy move, obviously seeing what I am doing. I can almost taste his panic. He knows what this will cost me, but I don’t care. “At the end, he pissed himself as we all stood and watched, crying like a fucking baby as he choked.” I let out a scream, raising my hand, ready to unleash the chain. I see the panic flash in Ivar’s eyes, he wanted a reaction, but he didn’t expect me to have the balls to kill him.
As if in slow motion, I hear the scream from Vasilisy before I see him. He throws himself at Ivar. Knocking him out of my path. I stare, not able to do anything else as they both fall to the floor with Vasilisy on top, but he doesn’t stop there. His eyes are wild and filled to the brim with hate and death. He lets out a heartbroken yell before raining his meaty fists down at Ivar’s face. Panic like no other winds through my body, I don’t care what they do to me, but they won’t let a dishonoured Berserker attack the King. They will kill him.
The thought gets me moving and I tackle Vassy off Ivar and pin him to the floor, my eyes searching his. When he looks at me, I see the determination there. “Why?” I ask, my heart smashing into my chest as I hear the Berserkers closing in and the roar of anger from Ivar. “Why!” I scream in his face, smashing my fists into his shoulder. He lets me, he just lays there and lets me, a serene look on his face.
“Because it wasn’t time. Not here, not now. You would have never made it.”
I gasp, my eyes filling with tears as I realise he did it to protect me. He gave his life for me.
“No.” I shake my head, even as I feel them bearing down on us. “You fool,” I scream.
“Kill him, little queen. Be smarter than he is, then take your crown. Save the Wastes.” With that he pushes me from him and I roll to the side to see him sweep out his arm and take down a Berserker before grabbing his weapon. Crouching on the floor he looks at me. “I will die the way I lived, but remember why you are here.” With that he turns to the encroaching Berserkers.
“Vassy! No!” I yell and try to scramble to my feet, only to be held back by arms winding around my waist.
I watch in horror as he holds out his arms and lets out a war yell. “Come on then, you traitors. I’ll see ya in the next fucking life!” I can’t look away. I can’t blink.
He would have probably managed to kill more if he wasn’t chained to the chairs. A fact I think he chose to ignore as he flings himself into the awaiting mass of warriors. Hacking,
cleaving, and screaming, as he takes as many down with him as he can.
I have to help. Looking around I spot the torch next to us, placed near the chairs. Darting forward, dragging the man holding me, I grab it and without hesitating thrust it back into his face. I smell the burning first before the scream of pain hits my ears, almost deafening me. The arms fall away, and I pick up a forgotten sword.
Letting out a yell, I jump into the fray. Bodies are everywhere, and I can barely see in front of me to figure out who is friend and foe, so I just swing. I swing until I can’t feel my arms, until blood covers my face and I have to blink it away. Climbing over dying men, I leap and swing. When there is nothing but bodies scattered at my feet and blood dripping from my sword, I finally look up. Vasilisy glances back at me from where he stands, yanking his stolen sword from a dead Berserker’s chest. He offers me a grin and I grin back, it costs me. I don’t see the arrow until it is too late. It hits him in the shoulder, twisting him as he is knocked back, the sword forgotten.
Another flies through the air and hits his other shoulder. He falls back again, letting out a scream as he does. I try to get to him, but the bodies in the way are slowing me down and my legs are aching. I throw myself across the distance as he drops to his knees, his eyes on mine. In them I see acceptance, but I won’t let him die. He can’t. I fall to my knees in front of him with a scream as his body jerks from the impact of another arrow. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t beg, he just stares at me.
“I need my right-hand man,” I cry, grabbing his shoulders.
“You have five others,” he gasps out.
“No.” Not again. Standing, I jump over him and stand with my arms spread, facing the crowd. Ivar stands in the very centre, a bow held in his hands with another arrow nocked while the Berserkers hold their weapons, ready to jump in if need be.
