The Berserker

21

I craned my neck to gaze up at Tormad. He doesn't look so intimidating in his sedated state. I observe as his lashes flutter like a fragile butterfly. I snicker. Tormad would likely murder the person who compares the berserker to a pretty creature. They are known to be big and strong, not some dancing bug with colourful wings.

Tormad's eyes open. The beat inside my chest stumbles as I gaze deep into his soul. I swear I could see myself, smiling longingly at Tormad. For a brief moment, I watched two people stand together, in a loving embrace. Fragments of our future play for me to witness.

Tormad and I are together. Tormad and I, laughing and kissing. Tormad and I watching the sunset. Tormad's hand lay protectively over the small bump of my stomach. This carried on until the end. Where I watched as Tormad dies in my arms. But for most part of what I saw, it was Tormad and I, living peacefully, taking care of our children.

I ignore the flutter in my chest. This was Tormad's dream, not mine. I should be angry at the beast who butchers people without mercy. Even if Tormad tells me, my mother is from the blood of his people, and her blood flows through me. I can't help but think he was wrong. Mother never raised me to be violent. Sure, now that I have unearth some dormant memories of my mother sharing with me some of her pagan views, she believed in God.

Tormad cups my face. The act is so pure and heartfelt. The soft side of Tormad that only the closest to him get to witness. Without thinking, I lean into his touch. I know he is close. The warmth of his breath blows softly against my face. I should push him away, but I no longer feel compelled to. Instead, I press lips to his. Like magic, when our bodies come together, heat builds from within. My inner thighs throb with need.

Tormad shifts me, so I'm straddled across his torso. His hands glide down my naked thighs, and palm my buttocks. The hunger of needing Tormad overpowers me and I grind against his body. The friction he offers only half fills my needs. I needed more; I needed him.

Just at our heightened moment or pure euphoria, a multitude of screams tore through the camp. Tormad rushed to his feet, slipping his trousers on. He picks up his sword that rests at the head of the bed.

"Stay here," Tormad commands. For the first time that I've looked into his eyes, I saw fear, but only for a split second. I would have asked what it was he saw, but now was not the time. It is imperative that Tormad get out there and save his people.

But he still stands there, his fingers gripping tight in the hilt of his sword. His eyes bore into mine. Waiting for me to challenge him on his request. My fingers wrap around my short dagger, a gift from him. I hadn't been training with Igor to stay locked away in a cabin, and people attacked us. So why is he begging for me to stay locked away?

These beasts wouldn't be merciful to the children. I tell myself.

Tormad narrows his eyes. "I mean it, Kari."

I turned my head, unable to bear seeing the slither of pain in his eyes as he begs for me to listen.

"Just go." Every second he stands here, making sure I abide by his demand, is a life lost. Tormad gives me one last glance before he leaves. I made my way over to the window and took a sneak peek and the chaos outside.

Images of my father's lifeless body float to the surface. My fingers grip tighter around my dagger as anger surges through my body. If we make it out of this alive, I must urge Tormad to move the camp.

The door to my cabin creaks, alerting me of a presence. I concealed the dagger close to my body. Being sure to keep my back towards the intruder. I close my eyes; to bring forth the training, Igor had me do.
What better time than the present?

I can tell from the heavy steps taken the intruder is a male. He takes slow, cautious steps. I angle my head to hear better. The man was on my right. I angle the dagger with my right hand, ready to jab into his torso. Keeping a firm grip on the hilt.

The moment my weapon digs into his body, our eyes meet. I watch as his pupils dilate. Shock filled his eyes. From his attire, it was clear this wasn't a Berserker, but he most probably wasn't far from becoming one.

"You may not wish to kill." Igor's word push though. "But you want to live, and to do so, you sometimes need to kill."

I waited for him to take his final breath before I stood and took my leave. I hid in the shadows, with my back pressed against the hut. That is the beauty of Tormad's camp; there were torches lit up, but not enough to make night visible to outsiders. The men from this camp knew the lands, blindfolded. There were traps layed out; I heard the cries of those intruders as they were captured and killed. A sick sinister smirk appears on my face.

I shook my head, the moment I realised what I had done. I've spent way too long with these people, that I have started to show no remorse.

A twig snaps from the side of me, causing me to jerk my head in that direction. I saw him. His body larger than the man who dared to sneek up on me earlier. He spoke in another language, and briefly turned his attention to the man. I watched from my hidden spot as the figure took off leaving me alone with him.

"I know you're here," he spoke out and walked with extra caution. My body freezes, as I watch him make his slow and steady steps right to my spot. The hairs on my body prickle. Even without direct lighting, I can tell this man is large; larger than Tormad, or Igor. My dagger would be a prick against his solid build.

I held my breath in hope this will help in keeping me hidden.

"You know, Tormad isn't the only man who is gifted."

I watched him walk right past me. This man made me think I was safe from his wrath. I didn't breathe, I didn't scratch my feet against the loose dirt; I made sure to keep hidden. But when large firm hands grab my arms, and pull me away from my safety within the shadows, I knew I'd let Igor and Tormad down.

Igor spent hours training me to keep hidden. Sometimes it took his men days to finally find me, and that was mostly because I gave into my human need for food and warmth. But Tormad; the way he told me to stay inside.

Did he foresee this?

Before I could scream for help, I am hit hard. My vision becomes blurred, my body slowly weakens. That I don't protest when I'm lifted off the ground and thrown over the man's shoulders, like my father would do with a bag of grain.

I could only murmur a soft sorry Tormad, before my body gave out entirely.