The Berserker

8

My mouth turns dry. Tormad quickly stands me up on my feet. "Your mother promised my father her firstborn." I stood there perplexed. My mother loved me. I can't imagine she would just give me away.

"She was valuable to him. My father," Tormad continues. "He would have raised the child as his own and trained them."

"Your father?" Tormad's eyes veer to the side. "You are giving me to him?"

Tormad and his men stormed my village because my mother didn't give me up like she was meant to. People died because of me. I placed my hand over my beating chest. The pain of their suffering burrows deep.

"No." Blurts out. I glance up at him. The look he gives me, I hope he speaks the truth. "But I can't let you go either."

A gust of wind blows and sends a shiver over my body. Tormad glances up at the small viewing of the sky. The clear skies were now a dull grey. The air is a little crisp.

"We should head back."

Tormad starts walking, and I dutifully follow behind.

"My father is a vicious man, Kari," Tormad voices, and tilts his head to the side. He narrows his strides. "A son, he would train until he deemed worthy to fight. A daughter..." Tormad brushes his eyes over me. I grasp the fur around my shoulders.

"Well, I don't wish to fill your head with those thoughts."

Rough hands graze over mine, and before dropping. Warmth shot up my arm, but dies the second his hand left contact. On the whole walk, I mull over what Tormad told me. I don't know if I should believe his words, but I know there is one person who wouldn't lie to me.

"I want to speak with my father," I told Tormad. His shoulders straightened at my brusque. But they soon relaxed and he gave me a stiff nod.

We made it back to camp by sunset. The place seems more alive than it does during the day. People make their way to the hut where food is usually served. Some are seated by a hearth located in the heart of the camp. One person in particular stood out; Freya. I notice her watching; her eyes on Tormad. Igor seats himself down beside the jaw clenching she-man. She bat away his advancing hands that clamps on her shoulder.

Tormad wraps his fingers around my wrist. "Eat first, then I will send for your father."

My jaw tightens. I do wish to eat with these people, but I decide on compromise and begrudgingly allow Tormad to lead the way to the hut. I had expected him to release his hold, but he carried on making his way further inside. He sits himself down on an empty stall, and tugs my arm, forcing me to sit at his side. A bowl of steaming stew is placed in front. I haven't eaten since last night. My mouth salivates at the food.

Tormad tears his bread and dips it straight in the stew. He doesn't wait for the food to cool before shoving the gravy coated bread in his mouth, washing it down with mead. Laughter fills the hut, giving it a vibrant atmosphere. Tormad taps his elbow against my arm and nods at my untouched bowl.

With a sullen sigh, I eat.

My bowl was taken the moment I placed it down empty. Tormad rises, bringing me with him. Someone approaches us and leans in to whisper something in Tormads ear. It must not have been something Tormad wished to hear, as his jaw ticked. His grip on my wrist tightens, and I bit out a hiss.

"The talk with your father can wait," Tormad bites out and storms out off the hut, dragging me with him.

"What!" I pull back, fighting Tormad's hold. He jerks his head and tugs harder; making me lurch forward. "You promised me."

My voice screeches. I haven't been able to properly talk to my father since we got her. They have him working somewhere in the fields. And for some reason he isn't allowed to eat in the hut.

"Kari," Tormad gives me a warning tone. "I don't have time for your tantrums."

Screaming is heard, and Tormad wastes no time in scooping me up. He sprints off toward the cabin I stay in. Kicking the door open. "Stay in here," Tormad commands. "Whatever you hear or see." He lightly cups my face, so my eyes don't deviate from his. "Don't venture out. Don't run!"

Tormad steps back, and closes the door. The screams fill the cool night air. And my mind rolls back to the night Tormad's men raided my village. I cower in the corner of the hut. My knees tucked to my chest, and my eyes glued to the door.

A glow flickers outside my window, and I find myself crawling over. I slowly peek my head. The camp is on fire. Buildings are burning to the ground. People are fighting. People are running for their lives. My eyes find Tormad. His axe high in the air, I grimace as he swings it down with full force, hitting his intended target. He turns around, ducking in time. Narrowly avoiding the same fate. Igor makes it in time to save his brother.

I stare away from the two, when something catches the corner of my eyes. Two small children huddled together under a wagon. They don't look above the age of eight. I glance around hoping, praying no one sees these children, but a pit forms inside when I catch a figure not far from them. His head tilts. The children wriggle away, cementing my thoughts he is a foe.

I can't bring myself to watch. Tormad begged for me to stay. But I could never live with myself if these children die and I didn't help. I open the door and poke my head out. Keeping to the shadows, I make my way closer to the children; almost tripping over a body along the way. His sword glistens against the flickering flames. I pick up heavy metal, which feels foreign in my grasp. I'm foolish for leaving the safety of the cabin, but not enough to approach unarmed.

Now closer, I can see the man has a firm grip on one of the children's ankle. He drags the screaming child out from under the wagon. While his eyes were on the child, I snuck up behind him and jammed the pointed end into his back. The man froze, and for a split moment my heart did too. But I breathe a sigh of relief when the man hunches over, and the child, I now noticed as a wee boy, scrambles away.

I reach my hand out to the frightened children. "Come with me," I whisper. They both glance at each other, and then to the fallen man, before one of the children wraps their fingers around mine. I bring them close to me, and nudge them toward the shadows.

The children run inside the cabin, and I follow behind, closing the door. My body heaves as I struggle to breathe. Something gentle touches my back, and I whip my head up to see one of the frightened children's glistening eyes stare back. His lower lip trembles. I know how he feels having not long seen the same things.

"Come here," I tell him, wrapping my arms around his small frame. "Sh," I coo, and huddle into the corner. The other child watches. No doubt cautious, but keep a watchful eye on me. "I won't harm you."

My hands tremble as I run my fingers through the child's hair.

I just took another's life. My other hand brushes the cool medal of my cross. A gift from my mother. Ignoring the loan tear that seeps from my eyes.