Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

23

It was a question loaded with emotion, chief among them vulnerability. Should he hesitate a fraction too long, Elsie would never believe him, no matter if the answer was in the affirmative. But if Esmund replied too quickly, she'd question his sincerity.

Did he want her? He would never have thought the answer could be yes, at least not to the extreme he'd come to feel in such a short time.

Had his Berserker not claimed her so suddenly, would he have formed any attachment beyond friendship? Probably not, but he no longer feared losing what little connection he shared with his brothers, not now that Esmund knew what he and Elsie shared was real.

He closed his eyes and recalled how she'd looked that morning when she'd been lost in her own world. The way the sunlight played with her hair and the way her eyes captured the light when he held her.

He'd never seen a more beautiful sight than her in those moments. His answer filled his mind until there could be no denying the truth packed into one word. "Yes."

Ulric whistled and drew Esmund's attention to the waiting train. He motioned Esmund forward and entered the stock car with Toots. Esmund followed with Barnaby, waiting to hear Elsie's reply, unsure if he would get one since he'd waited too long to answer. He settled Barnaby in place and stowed his gear, taking the saddlebag Ulric offered as they made their way to the passenger car.

In an attempt to ignore Elsie and her lack of reply, Esmund forced his mind onto other pressing questions. How were you supposed to prepare for an attack against a magical being?

There would be no rules, no boundaries—it would only end with death, and until then, anything could happen. A Berserker's brute strength only went so far. They had weapons, but those were more suited for other Berserkers, not witches.

What if the silencing potion didn't work? Or, what if they couldn't douse the fire out of her? What if she killed them all before they even had a chance to fight? If this witch saw and heard everything Elsie could, she already knew far more about them than they did about her. The Matron held the advantage, and there was no doubt she would exploit it to her favor.

Steam hissed, and the whistle blew, signaling their departure, and snapped Esmund out of his troubling daydream. Two minutes later, the train lurched into motion and filled the air with its slow, metallic 'chug-a-chug' that increased in tempo until the train reached its desired, steady pace. The first passenger car they entered was half-full, with people stowing their luggage in the racks overhead before taking their seats.

Dark, emerald green drapes framed the narrow windows lining both sides of the fifty-foot car and allowed the faint light of late afternoon to enter the confines.

Plush, green tufted benches promised comfort, but judging by the cramped space between each row, they would fail to deliver. The scuffed floors were made of polished oak and gleamed softly in the amber light cast by the hanging oil lamps.

Following Ulric into the next car, which was identical in its furnishings to that of the last, Esmund let out a sigh of relief. There were only eight passengers seated. Ulric stowed his bags and sat with a heavy sigh that became lost among the train's rumbling 'chug-a-chug' hum.

"I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," Ulric grunted as he sprawled out on the bench. "Sure wish I had my damn hat."

Esmund grinned, "I'm going to change clothes; I'll be right back." He tucked the satchel containing his new change of clothing under his arm and went in pursuit of the lavatory.

Due to his stature, the lavatory was little more than a narrow closet with barely enough room to turn around, let alone change clothes without injury. Several minutes and one bruised elbow later, Esmund finished tucking in his shirt, picked up his satchel, and nudged the door as he turned the handle. It didn't budge. He frowned and gave a hard push with his shoulder as he jiggled the handle...nothing—not even a squeak of protest from the hinges. Esmund cursed and glared at the door.