Rescued by the Berserker

"What are you doing here, little rabbit?"

Hazel

My change of direction took me back out of the forest, into the Grey Men's path. So I veered again, finding shelter in a knot of scrub pine on the edge of the great sandy clearing, much too close to the cave I'd escaped from for comfort. I dropped down behind a boulder to catch my breath.

I did not know where to go, where to run. The Grey Men were everywhere. They'd followed me since I escaped from the cave where their master—the Corpse King, a sorcerer with enough power to make these awful creatures his servants—slept in a spelled state.

The Corpse King had drained my friend, Sari, of all her blood. If I hadn't escaped, I was going to be next.

A hissing noise told me the Grey Men were nearing my hiding place. I crouched, trembling. I had a stick in my hand—a piece of a witch's staff that had magically come to my aid, but no weapons. My life at the abbey—working at the looms with the other orphans and tending the garden—tanned my limbs and strengthened them, but had not prepared me to defend my life. Nevertheless, I gripped the carven wood tighter, ready for the final struggle. The Grey Men wouldn't drag me back to the Corpse King without a fight.

At least the headache the creatures cursed me with was gone. It had vanished the instant I laid eyes on the giant warrior leading the group of men in the woods. His brow had creased when he saw me, his whole body straining to run after me, even as he raised a hand to make his men stay back. Whatever made my feet want to run to him and hide in the shelter of his arms, I know he felt it too.

Beyond the boulder, a hissing noise heralded the Grey Men's approach. They were searching for me, combing the sandy area and would soon come upon my hiding place.

A shadow fell across me as I rose to run. I whirled to face the threat.

The blond warrior loomed over me. My heart stopped as I looked up, craning my neck as far as it would go. Large as an oak, his taut muscle stretched his leather jerkin and breeches. He still held his great axe and shield, yet his footfalls were as light and silent as a predator's.

He stalked closer and I let out a squeak.

"What are you doing here, little rabbit?" His eyes pierced me, hot and golden.

I backed away, edging around the boulder. Right now the warrior was more of a threat than the Grey Men.

He laid down his weapon, hand outstretched as he approached. "Easy, easy," he almost purred. The sound soothed the tension from my spine. "We must go from this place, lass. You are not safe."

His large hand, rough and scarred, reached for me. Another step and he'd have me in his grasp.

I panicked, staggering back. "No."

"Stop," he snapped and my knees almost buckled at the command. He had some sort of power over me—I wanted to do exactly as he said. But I was done taking orders from men.

He lunged for me and I darted out of reach—right into the cold, dead hands of the Grey Men.

***

Knut

A snarl broke from my chest as my woman ran straight into the enemy's clutches. The draugr hissed in triumph, grey fingers latching onto her lovely arms with a bruising grip, dragging her back, away from me.

She cried out and my vision went red.

I caught up my axe and I charged.

The creatures gave me a blank look of surprise, right before I lopped off their heads. The horrible hissing noise stopped as the blade cleaved their necks, as easily as snapping dead blooms from a flower. Fluid burst from their necks as they fell. I staggered back at the stench.

The woman screamed again, now covered in gore, and fought away from the dead men's grip. The headless bodies still clutched at her, until I slammed them with my shield and followed it with a kick to get them to release my woman.

Bony fingers caught my arms, pulling me back, and I roared, throwing the draugr off me. The corpse beings had skin clammy to the touch and smelled even worse when their bodies split open. Their rotten flesh wouldn't tempt a starving wolf.

Corpses piled at my feet, I howled in triumph. This would be a battle for the bards to sing my praises.

"Look out," the woman shrieked. I whirled just in time to duck a sword. The rusty blade swooped over my head. I charged. The sword swiped at me again and this time I caught it in my bare hand, and wrenched it out of the draugr's grip before wading in for the kill. I'd lost my shield, but my axe made short work of chopping the draugr into a greyish pile of limbs.

A small gasp made me turn.

The woman stood staring at me, holding the piece of wood to her chest like a babe. She'd shouted to save me. She didn't know that Berserkers felt nothing in the heat of battle—not pain, not fear.

More Grey Men were closing in as I grabbed her wrist, tugging her forward. "Come on. We must run."

She looked at my hand in horror. Blood dripped from my palm, but the wound had already started to close—Berserker healing at work. But that wasn't why she was distressed.

My arm had sprouted fur, and my fingers ended in sharp claws—the start of the Change into the beast.

I pulled her to me and she fought, kicking, until I tossed her over my shoulders.

Steadying her with one hand, I gripped my axe with the other and ran.

***  

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