Night of the Berserkers

6. Lars

6

Lars

The woman was no match for my brother and I, her thin arm frail in my grip. She stumbled, and I tightened my hold, keeping my face grim as we marched towards the castle. Who was this woman that she could sneak up to our liege’s gates?

Calm, Lars. Ivar spoke in my mind. She poses no threat.

I almost snarled in return. My bosom brother could speak directly to my mind. Part of the fey gift he inherited from his mother. I did not have the same gift.

As the woman slumped in my grasp, her scent rolled over me. I breathed deep, enjoying the heady smell.

Now I knew why Ivar had been acting strangely. He’d scented the woman and waited for me to do the same. I hated when he kept secrets from me.

Apologies, brother. I was not sure what I had scented. I did not mean to offend.

His careful politeness made me want to growl louder. Our captive looked weak, but her familiar face and scent marked her strange. Dangerous, even.

Her scent clears the mind... how is that a danger?

This time I did growl out loud. Something was not right. Magic was afoot.

I stopped, jolting our captive. She bit her lip but didn’t cry out.

“Gently.” Ivar admonished as I caught the maid’s chin.

“Who are you?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes blazed as she glared at me. She was comely, if a bit too thin. Her features were strong. almost too sharp and wild to be beautiful, and yet the wide mouth, the light eyes, the shock of white gold hair tumbling down her back combined to present a comely picture.

“Lars?” Ivar asked quietly, and I realized I’d been staring.

“Who are you? Why have you come?” I felt helpless, staring at her stubborn, silent face. I hated that feeling. She looked so familiar. Where could I have seen her before?

“You will tell me,” I shook her, and she bore it silently. Stronger than she looked.

“Brother,” Ivar faced me. “What is the matter?”

“Something is not right.” My head was clearer than it had been for months. Maybe years. Every day, I woke with a buzzing noise in my head—some days it was so loud I could barely think. It was always there, even on days I could ignore it.

As soon as I’d caught this woman’s scent, the noise was gone.

A shout from castle gates told me we’d been spotted. A contingent of guards marched out to meet us, no doubt to investigate our captive.

Lars, listen to me. This morning I heard a man howling in pain. Ivar spoke into my mind. It woke me. I had to touch my mouth to be sure the sound did not come from my own mouth.

I pressed my lips together. I knew what he’d meant. Every moon, more warriors went mad. It was the curse we bore.

This woman... there is something special about her. Ivar stroked his beard.

“That marks her strange,” I said gruffly. We both studied our captive, with her wan face and wild blonde hair. Her forehead creased as if in pain, her grey eyes unfocused. Fey. It would be easy to believe her a fairy creature, fallen into another world.

And now at our mercy, Ivar finished my thought. I turned my glare on him. Sometimes I thought he could read my thoughts, as well as sharing his. He raised his hands in defense, and then the group of warriors were upon us.

“Lars, what have you found?” one called Gaul asked.

I turned reluctantly, stepping between him and the woman, shielding her. Part of me wanted to protect her, but my suspicion and hasty actions had delivered her into the hands of the king’s guard. If the commander deemed her dangerous, the warriors would tear her apart.

I made my voice light. “A sweet smelling flower. Ivar and I found her growing near our lord’s castle.”

“She does have the sweetest fragrance,” Gaul sniggered. “What is she?”

“A fairy creature.” I shrugged, and the warriors laughed.

“Not a creature. A lady,” Ivar spoke up and at his voice, the maid whipped her head around.