Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 2

Gunnar pushed Heinrick to the rocky ground and hissed, "Make one wrong move, and you get option two."

Crouching low in the cover of the tall grass, he moved as stealthily as a cat toward his prey, his ears sharply attuned to the slightest noise that didn't belong.

The next ten seconds played out in slow motion. Each movement was almost painfully slow when Gunnar saw the face of a man he had previously called 'friend,' up until that very moment, emerge from the shadows.

Deputy Marshal Erik Somers stood with feet braced apart, the muscles of his arms banding tightly with the exertion needed to wield a cudgel the thickness of one of Gunnar's heavily muscled thighs.

Swinging it with all the strength he could muster toward Gunnar's head in what would have been a lethal arc, Erik grunted when the weighty weapon proved no match against its intended victim's enhanced speed.

Gunnar's body twisted and moved as though it had a will of its own entirely separate from any command he could give. He dodged the back-swing of the cudgel when Erik tried once more to knock him to the ground.

All he had to do was reach a hand into his pocket, withdraw one single baneberry, and pop it in his mouth. It would only take two seconds, maybe three if the tin gave any resistance, and Erik would die.

Erik tried pressing his attack again and swung at Gunnar's head; the force of the cudgel slashing the air created a heavy thwunk when it missed its intended target and crashed to the ground.

Gunnar backed away, trying to put space between him and his assailant. Why would Erik be here, bent on killing him? No plausible reason came to mind, and it was that single mistake of trying to think of a reason for this attack that dropped him to the ground when the bones in his left knee shattered from the blow that found its mark.

Erik slowly advanced, struggling for breath as he rested the weighty cudgel on his shoulder. He stood over Gunnar and looked down, his lip curled back in a snarl. "It isn't personal, Gunnar; I hope you understand that."

Gunnar stared at Erik in disbelief. Pain consumed him, pulsing in nauseating waves even as bile burned the back of his throat. The emotions swirling in Erik's grey eyes showed he genuinely believed what he said.

Gunnar's mind begged him to eat a berry. He had to eat one if he wanted to live, but he shrank from what the berry would unleash within him. There had to be another way to end this without killing his friend.

"It was almost too easy, setting this all up. You're so predictable, you know. I hoped you would follow suit and abstain from going berserk, so in the end, you have yourself to thank for being in this situation." Erik smirked, "You and your pathetic attempt to be noble...to be something you and your kind aren't."

Gunnar gritted his teeth, refusing to release the rage that boiled within his veins. 'EAT A BERRY,' his mind shouted.

"Who would have thought a demon like you and your brothers could ever become something desirable to normal people?" Erik looked up to the sky and closed his eyes. A gust of wind ruffled the edges of Erik's dark brown hair.

Gunnar stealthily reached into his pocket, carefully flicking up the lid on the tin as he lightly pinched a red berry between his finger and thumb. Slowly, he withdrew it, hoping Erik wouldn't notice.

The breeze whispered against his sweat-dampened flesh, heightening the bleakness of the moment. This was a setup, which meant Heinrick more than likely had been telling the truth.

"I've got my family to think of. My two girls...they can't grow up thinking your kind is good. They have to see and know you for what you are." Erik wiped a hand over his eyes and blinked twice before focusing again and saying, "I wish there were another way. We could have been friends if I didn't despise what you are." His jaw tightened, and tears came to his eyes as he grasped the cudgel firmly in both hands, preparing to deliver the death blow.