Mastered by the Berserkers

Chapter 1-2

And then followed days of hell, as the warriors made us march to their mountain. The Berserker warriors were not unkind, but the days-long journey wore me to the bone. Often as not, I walked in the center of a ragged group of the orphan girls. Meadow helped me calm them and wipe away tears. At times the young ones grew so tired of walking, the warriors carried them.

“Who are they?” Meadow whispered to me one night when we lay down by the fire for a few hours rest. My calves ached and I couldn’t feel my feet. I’d left the abbey in a shift and nothing else. I’d marched mile after mile barefoot.

“They are warriors. Northmen.” I’d guessed as much from the tales I’d heard of tall, pale men who fought with axes and sailed dragon-headed ships. They were fearless and left slaughter in their wake. I could easily see these warriors as that dreaded horde. “They served as mercenaries and settled in the mountains.”

“Did they tell you that?” Meadow’s voice held awe.

“No.” I could’ve asked. Two of the warriors were often at my side. From their conversations with other warriors, I learned the tattooed one’s name—Jarl. The tall one who stalked me like a shadow was Fenrir. Whenever they were near, my skin prickled with awareness. But I ignored them as best I could.

Meadow chewed her lip, her eyes on the warriors sitting around the fire. Every once in a while, a warrior would leave and a few minutes later, a wolf would stroll from the forest. I shivered at what that might mean.

“But why do they want us?” Meadow asked finally.

“I don’t know.” But deep down, I did. But it wasn’t something a nun, especially one young as me, should think about.

I rolled away from Meadow and fell asleep, and when dawn came, I woke to a new pair of boots and a thick cloak sitting by my head. Both nicer items of clothing than I’d ever owned.

I put them on and they fit perfectly. When I looked up, Jarl was watching me from across the fire.

But I turned away. And neither he nor Fenrir said anything to me, though I knew they were responsible for the gifts. For the rest of the trip I refused to speak or even look at them. I would not thank them, or think of them, or acknowledge what their gifts might mean.