Page 62 of The Magic of Vanaheim
“Talvinen?”
PushingIsbaniinto Håkon’s hand, Talvi rose into a crouch.
“Whatever happens, I need you to know that I willalwaysprotect you.”
sixteen
Berserker
?åkon
“Ineed you to know that I will always protect you.”
The words echoed in Håkon’s mind again and again. He’d been woken from his content slumber to Talvinen hovering above him, eyes bright with alertness and filled with sincerity.
“Whatever happens, I need you to know that I’ll always protect you,”he’d promised as if he meant it and pushedIsbaniinto Håkon’s waiting hand.
Chest filled with warmth, Håkon rose quickly, slipping on his breeches and boots as he went, and stepped next to his husband. Maybe he should’ve laughed at Talvinen’s strange antics, but instead, he was ready to defend him against beasts or bandits, no matter which foe dared to show itself.
For a few heartbeats, the barn was silent, the smell of fresh hay and their lovemaking tickling Håkon’s nose. Then he heard it. A rustling. The sound of a twig snapping. There was someone out there, creeping towards the barn, trying to be silent.
Putting a finger to his lips, Talvinen grinned at him, the giddy excitement of a young warrior in the face of impending battle.
“Raiders,” he whispered in Håkon’s ear. “At least five at the door. Three more on the roof.”
Håkon couldn’t help but return the smile and, on a whim, pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Talvinen’s mouth.
A soft clattering above them had Håkon looking up. Someone tried to open the shutter high in the hayloft. Talvinen followed his gaze.
“You take the ones from the roof. I’ll kill whoever comes through the door.”
Before Håkon could complain about this arrangement, the barn door was forced open, and the raiders stormed in, five of them, as Talvinen had said. They wereVanir, berserkers dressed only in bearskins and furs, their faces smeared with runes. They stormed into the barn, screaming, but did not immediately spot them. No doubt, they’d imagined they had stumbled upon their prey asleep.
Håkon tensed, not with fear, but with the thrill of the coming battle. He knew they were outnumbered, but he couldn’t wait to fight alongside his husband. He wanted to witness Talvinen’s prowess in battle again.
Searching his gaze, Talvinen nodded curtly.
Like a deadly avalanche, Talvinen unleashed hisseiðr. Arm-length shards of ice rained down on the berserkers like a shower of arrows. The barn was suddenly filled with grunts and screams, and Talvinen lunged at the men who hadn’t already fallen under his spell. The first mercenary barely had time to react before Talvi’s blade cleaved into his neck, blood spraying in a crimson mist. The second tried to parry, but Talvinen was faster, his sword finding a gap in the man’s defense and stabbing deep into his chest.
Grinning, Håkon watched the display. It was an absolute delight to witness Talvinen fight. But all too soon, he had to focus on the attackers on the roof. The shutter flew open, and a man jumped in, enveloped in dust and sunlight. Håkon jumped up the rafters and onto the hayloft to meet him halfway.
The berserker greeted him with a furious blow, growling at Håkon with a mouthful of filed teeth. Håkon parried a hasty slash aimed at his side and countered with a swift upward thrust. His blade sliced through flesh and struck bone, sending the berserker crashing to the barn floor with a gurgling cry. Another attacker came at him, but Håkon was ready, balancing lithely across a beam and intercepting the attack. Their swords clashed and Håkon gave the man a powerful shove, sending the raider off-balance and crashing to the ground. He landed with a sickeningthud. Håkon thought he heard bones breaking, but he jumped after him anyway, plungingIsbaniinto the berserker’s gut. He wouldn’t leave a foe alive who could get into Talvinen’s back.
Looking around for his next target, Håkon couldn’t help but admire how Talvinen fought—not with brute strength like so many warriors, but with finesse, turning every movement into a deadly dance. He didn’t even need hisseiðr; every opponent who dared to approach him met a swift end. For a moment, Håkon forgot the danger they were in, watching as his husband cut down man after man with terrifying ease. A god of death in his element.
“You fight beautifully,” Håkon mumbled, breathless from both the combat and the sight of Talvinen’s effortless violence.Hel, how did Håkon deserve such a perfect warrior at his side?
Whirling around, Talvinen felled a berserker who’d appeared soundlessly behind Håkon with a thrown ice shard in his throat.
Talvinen flashed a quick grin. “I told you I’d protect you.”
The words did something funny to Håkon, equally dizzying and grounding. But he had no time to stop and analyze his feelings—the fight was far from over. But Håkon could tell by the hesitant way the remaining berserkers regarded them that they weren’t so confident of their victory anymore. Surely they hadn’t expected to face a warrior like Talvinen, deadly and graceful, with both sword andseiðr.
One of the raiders made an angry attempt to charge at Håkon, screaming as he raised his sword high, but Håkon was ready. He sidestepped the attack, swingingIsbanilow and dealing a deep cut to the front of the man’s legs. Howling, the raider hit the ground, and Håkon quickly finished him with a clean strike.
The last two men hesitated, glancing at each other and then at the carnage around them. Their comrades lay dead or dying, and Talvinen stood in the center of the barn, his sword raised, eyes gleaming with the promise of more death.
“Who sent you?” Talvinen growled. “Tell me now, and I’ll make your deaths quick.”