The fire burned long enough for me to drag another cart out and extend the barrier. After an hour, I’d created a haphazard barricade. With only Sana’s pendant for protection, it took every ounce of my berserker strength, but the hope in my men’s eyes kept me going.
At the first blush of dawn, the oppressive presence in the forest seemed to fade away, but I barely registered the change, and it took five of Ivar’s finest to hold me back from continuing my labour.
‘That’s the last one, sire. We’re safe now. You can stop.’ Ivar covered my shoulders with the cloak I’d casually discarded. The moment his words broke through to me, I felt the cold steal the last of my strength. I sat heavily on the ground, trembling, as weak as a kitten. Working as a draft horse was far from my favourite activity, but the village was safe. That was all that mattered.
‘Roksana?’ I asked, relaxing when he smiled.
‘Safe in the inn; a healer is with her,’ Ivar said.
I rubbed my temples. ‘Healer? Is she injured? Or did this flux affect her?’ I attempted to stand, but Ivar’s hand on my shoulder stopped me.
‘She’s safe, my king. And less affected than the others. The healer’s there more to ease your worries than heal her body.’ He gave me an embarrassed look. ‘The men know she’s important to you. The inn was well guarded last night.’
‘Thank you,’ I managed to say, my throat tight. ‘And the mages?’
‘Still sick as dogs. Whatever the cause, they’ve been rendered useless,’ he said, frowning when Tova sat next to me and pulled a pipe from under his cloak, offering it to me once he’d lit the contents of the bowl. The aromatic smoke trailed away on the winter breeze cooling my clammy body, and, grasping the edges of my cloak, I wrapped it tighter around me.
‘The fog continues to retreat. Maybe it hates the sun as much as it hates fire,’ Tova muttered.
He was right; I could already see the road outside, and the outline of the scorched earth was slowly becoming visible. The heat from the dwarf’s creation had uncovered a wide area almost stretching to the treeline, where ominous shadows lingered in the dense forest undergrowth.
‘That means we’re safe till dusk,’ Ivar said with a sigh.
‘Yes.’ My fist tightened on the pipe, but its herbal scent failed to calm me. ‘One night, and we’ve already lost men. We haven’t even encountered the enemy, and our strongest unit is emptying their guts in a peasant’s barn.’
‘We need to know what caused this,’ Tova said, his eyes scanning the tree line.
My hand shook when I ran it through my hair as I fought the unsettling sensation his words provoked. ‘There was something unusual. A glint of metal caught my eye earlier, it… Youremember that schemata you discovered? I swear that it looked like that drawing brought to life.’
The change in Tova was immediate, his eyes turning wild as he spun to face me. ‘You saw the box? When? Where? I must get my hands on it.’ The dwarf was already heading for the gate. My mind was spinning, still too tired to think straight, but one thing I knew: Sana would never forgive me if I allowed Tova to get hurt. I turned to Ivar, orders already falling from my lips.
‘Get a squad of men out there to keep him safe. They’re looking for a metal box near the treeline to the west.’ I rubbed my forehead, squinting at the sunrise. ‘Check if there’s any mages able to help him. If Sana’s dealing with the flux, maybe there’s someone else who can work. It’s too late to stop the dwarf, so we might as well help.’
Ivar’s surprise at my orders nearly made me laugh, but I knew that if I started, I wouldn’t stop. Tova was Sana’s family, and his loyalty to her was growing on me. I stood up, ignoring how much the world was spinning.
‘I need to check on Roksana. Ivar, I’ll leave the rest to you. I’m sorry, old friend.’ I should have stayed, should have checked on my men, but berserker fury came with a price, and if I didn’t head to bed soon, I’d fall on my face in the snow. The thud of Ivar’s fist hitting his chest in a military salute was reassuring, and I felt more at ease as the glow of the morning sun drove the last of the mist away.
‘Sire…’ A quiet voice from behind made me turn around. A squire stood there with a steaming mug. The boy lowered his gaze, lifting the cup to me. ‘The Lord Marshal ordered it for you, Your Majesty. He said you needed it.’
I took the cup, giving it a cautious sniff, a soft chuckle shaking my frame when I recognised the concoction. Wretched man knew me too well. It wasn’t even mulled wine, but soldiers’rotgut mixed with honey and spices. One sip and my insides warmed, chasing the shivers away.
‘Thank you,’ I said, sighing in contentment. ‘How are the villagers?’
‘Scared but alive. You saved us. I’ve never seen anyone do that… Even two drays would struggle in those conditions,’ he said before catching himself. ‘I meant no offence, sire. Just… the soldiers can’t stop talking–’
‘Let me guess. They’re saying their king’s a monster.’ He nodded eagerly. I sighed. After today, there was nothing I could do to hide this uncomfortable truth. ‘How unsettled are they?’
‘Unsettled? Sire, they lit pinecones to thank Perun for his blessing. They say no one can tame the berserker; no one except the Erenharts. If anything, the soldiers are in awe of you. The dwarf, though…’ The boy shook his head solemnly. ‘They’re saying he’s a warlock who can create demonic fire.’
That made me snort, the drink spraying onto the ground, the mental image of Tova in flowing robes refusing to disappear from my mind. As long as they called him a warlock, I wouldn’t complain about the hero worship, even if it made me uncomfortable.
‘Thank you, that will be all,’ I said, ready to face my woman.
‘How is she?’ I asked, entering the room.
The quarters were spacious, with a four-poster bed in the middle and a bathtub in the corner. A large window, now covered by dark green curtains, allowed enough light through to prevent tripping, but was still dark enough for the sleeping guest.
It was impressive, furnished in a simple but comfortable manner, suitable for travelling nobles. Furs and quilted covers were piled on the bed, and beneath them was my Viper, her chest rising and falling in a slow, regular rhythm.
