Owned by the Berserkers by Lee Savino

Author:Lee Savino [Savino, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silverwood Press

23

Fern

* * *

“For years we stayed in Norvergr, fighting for Harald Fairhair. Twenty or thirty summers, I think.” Svein glanced at the wolf who waited outside as if looking for confirmation.

I sat near the fire, watching the snowfall, half listening to Svein continue his story.

“Then we boarded dragon-headed ships and crossed the sea. There were some islands the king wanted to conquer. North of here. Do you know why they called the king ‘Fairhair’?”

“Because he had blond hair?” I guessed.

“That and he refused to cut it until he conquered all he could. Some promise he made to a lady.”

“Did he ever cut it?”

Svein shrugged. “He was the king. He did as he pleased.”

Outside the lean-to, the wolf slumped in the snow. The blizzard had dumped more onto the already massive drifts. I wished Dagg would come in but as Svein said, he kept his distance from the fire.

“Did you like fighting for this king?”

“Wasn’t a matter of like or not. We liked fighting. We were made for it.”

“The witch made you.” I kept my eye on the wolf, hoping our conversation would not trigger his battle lust.

“The witch turned us from men into fighting beasts, yes. Eventually we realized it was a curse. By then it was too late. We fought and conquered, year after year, until the madness claimed most of us. Some Berserkers left and followed one called Bodolf, and his son Ragnvald. Svein and I went with Sigmund, now called Samuel.”

“He’s the Alpha of the mountain.”

“He is the most powerful of us not because of strength alone, but because his control over the beast. Even then he was almost lost to the rage, if he hadn’t found his mate.”

“Brenna of the Berserkers.” I’d heard this story, whispered among the spaewives. She was the first of us and ruled as queen along with the Alphas. “So, it is possible for a warrior to be almost lost, and to return to himself.”

“It is not common, but perhaps it can be done.”

After a while the snow abated. Svein disappeared for a time and I dozed in the pelts, tossing and turning. Dagg’s shadow fell across the cave mouth, his wolf caught between the wilderness and his place by the fire. He was waiting, always waiting, but I slept as if he guarded my dreams. I hadn’t had a vision since I’d come to them. My dreams were full of shadows, but safe from the specter who’d haunted them before. He could not reach me with Dagg and Svein here. With that comforting thought, I slipped into sleep.

When I woke, it was snowing again. Svein had returned holding a large stew pot. He filled it with snow and set it on the fire and added wood until the water simmered.

“There,” he said when I sat up. “You said you wanted to bathe.”

“Where did you…?” My voice trailed off. He’d gone somewhere and snatched the pot. I didn’t need to know where. Instead, I added some herbs to the fire and asked him to move the pot off the blaze.

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