The Berserker Brides Saga

Hazel-3

As the day wore on, the weather grew dark and strange. Grey clouds suffused the sun and a frightening voice carried on the wind, muttering in a language I could not understand.

“The Corpse King casting spells,” Knut growled. “He seeks what he lost.”

He lifted me again in his arms and increased our speed.

“I don’t understand,” I clung to the Viking and studied his features instead of watching the scenery pass by at a dizzying speed. “Why does he want me?”

“You are a spaewife.”

“A what?”

“A woman with a special sort of magic, one that calls to the Corpse King.”

I balked at this. “I have no magic.”

“You do,” the warrior said quietly. “For it calls to me, also. It quiets the beast.”

I rubbed my face, wishing I could lie down and wake up back at the abbey. Even if it was a prison of sorts, it was safe. “I do not understand any of this. I am Hazel, named for a common herb. My own mother gave me up and I was raised as an orphan. I am nothing special.”

“Your mother was probably a spaewife, also. Your ability comes through her.” He held up a hand when I would protest. “You do have magic, otherwise the witch’s staff would not be a weapon in your hands. Trust me, Hazel, you are no ordinary woman.”

Too tired to argue further, I slept a little, head throbbing, shivering under the blackened sky.

I woke as Knut ducked into a low, dark dwelling.

“Where are we?” I thrashed as shadows covered us.

“Shhh,” he set me down and kept his hands on my hips to steady me. “A crofter’s farm. I checked and no one’s about. You alright, lass?”

He waited for my nod to let me go. Numb, body trembling with fear and hunger, I watched him leave and return several times, fetching water, and wood to build a fire.

“The storm out there is nothing natural. We’ll stay here until it passes,” he told me.

“What happened to the people who lived here?” I asked. The hut had all the makings of a home lovingly built and then abandoned. There were dead flowers in a vase on the table, amid the cobwebs.

“This is the first farm we’ve found since leaving the Corpse King’s cave. Nothing grows well in the presence of evil,” Knut said. “As the mage’s power grew, it may have touched this place. The crofters left before they starved.” The wind gusted past the door, moaning with that eerie voice.

“Or went mad.” I shuddered.

“No more talk of this.” He stepped back from the blaze, dusting his hands. “Come to me, lass.”

I scuttled closer to him and he placed me in front of the fire with my back to his bare chest. His large hands skimmed down my arms. “By the moon, you’re freezing. Where is the pelt I gave you?”

“I lost it…”

“I will get you another.” He hugged me. Between his large body and the fire, the chill ebbed from my bones.

I craned my head to look at him. “The wolf…is it one of your forms?”

“Yes.” He paused for a long while as if reluctant to say more. “There are three. The wolf, the man, and the beast. You have seen the latter two.”

Once I was warm, he went and found a blanket and shook it out, and laid it in front of the fire. I sat at his direction, setting the witch’s staff aside and curling up with my chin on my knees. The fire crackled happily, a reassuring sound after the past two days filled with horrors. It was almost enough to make me forget what manner of warrior sat next to me.

Almost.

Knut crouched close, feeding the fire.

His hands were a normal man’s, large and rough.

A witch’s curse, he’d said.

“You fought well,” I said, “against the Grey Men. Especially when you…turned into the beast.”

He grunted and checked the pouch at his side for more dried meat, turned out a few strips, and pressed them into my hand. “I’ll go hunting soon,” he muttered.

I caught his hand and raised my voice so I would not be ignored. “This last time you fought, you were outnumbered. Why did you not turn into the beast?”

His shoulders rose and fell. At his silence, I knew I’d pushed too hard.

“Because, Hazel,” he rose and towered over me. “Each time I allow the beast to take over, I lose a little more control. The beast will win out one day. Unless—” he paused, turning his head to gaze at the flickering fire. He had a handsome face. Cupped in the glow of the flames, even the lines on his forehead and around his eyes added to his rugged beauty.

“Unless?”

His eyes turned to me, glowed gold.

“Unless I find a mate. A woman with special powers, gifted by the goddess, who can cure my tainted soul.”

I gulped, shrinking a little in his shadow. “How can you find such a woman?”

The corners of his lips quirked. “I already have.”