Page 115

Savages and Dwellers

A fter Evan patches me up, again, we head back to the camp, which is set up nicely. Tents in an array of colours block the middle and some of the ends of the tunnel, and you have to pass through the bike barricade on either side to get through. It’s as safe as we are going to get.

I leave Dray talking to the Seekers as Evan and I weave through the camp.

I don’t bother stopping in the middle with the pale faces or dwellers, as I have started to call them.

They throw us looks of unease and it’s clear they are hoping we will leave them alone.

I understand. In the space of a day, they have been attacked, herded, forced from their homes, and are now setting up camp with ‘savages,’ so I leave them be.

You can see the obvious difference as you pass through the camps.

The Seekers are almost silent, working diligently, their eyes sharp.

The dwellers are cringing and huddling together, struggling to even get a tent up, and then you pass into the Berserker camp.

Laughter and loud voices rings out, and you can smell blood and cooking meat.

They might not have tents, but they don’t care.

Packs, weapons, and more are spread out with some men already asleep.

Two men are fighting in the middle of a circle of cheering men, who are watching and calling encouragements.

They are half naked, with blood running from cuts and bust lips, and sweat shining on their bodies.

Long honour braids fly in the wind as men tangle and tease, and they laugh and joke…

it feels like home and it feels right. A smile curls up at my lips as I take it all in.

They have firepits ready to light at dark, and the bikes are positioned with spears on top with men waiting there as patrols.

A tent is pressed to the wall of the building and tucked away to the side, surrounded by men, obviously for me.

They’ve found crates, pressed them together, turned them upside down, and made tables where some men are drinking and gambling.

A thump and a cheer goes up, and I turn to see one of the fighters on the ground and he isn’t getting back up, the other fighter leans down, cuts off his braid, and throws it away, cheering as he faces the crowd.

He stops when he sees me, his chest heaving, blood pouring from his split lip, and his brown eyes dark and excited.

His long braid is thrown over one shoulder, his thick thighs are encased in leather pants laced at the side, and big ass boots cover his feet.

“What says you, Champion?” he calls, daring me, challenging me.

The crowd stirs, looking from him to me, as excitement and nerves courses through their midst. I can hear the unspoken question—will I fight?

This is who we are, we measure ourselves up, keep each other sharp, and move up the pecking order by fighting.

We solve our issues that way, and through this challenge, they are asking me if I am really still a Berserker.

I unbuckle my holsters with a smirk and pass them to Evan before moving forward.

A cheer goes up as I step over the crudely drawn circle in the sand, and the fighter grins, nodding at me in respect before marching to the other side.

We size each other up as I crack my neck from side to side and widen my stance.

Adrenaline pumps through me. Once, I was forced to fight for my life, but I’m choosing to now.

I won the crown, but I need to prove to them that I deserve it.

That I am one of them. Even when I hated it, I couldn’t deny I was.

I have always been a Berserker through and through.

He jerks his head, throwing his braid over his shoulder, and crouches slightly, his hands held in front of him. “No weapons, first blood,” I call.

He nods. “Your blood, unless you get ya hands dirty, Ya Majesty,” he taunts. Laughter goes through the crowd.

“You talk too much,” I counter, as I push off and sprint at him, giving him no warning.

I leap off the ground and jump him. My legs wrap around his neck and I fall backwards, bringing him with me before I let go and roll away, grinning at him as dust and dirt covers my back and side.

My breathing picks up and bloodlust surges through me.

He flips to the side, licking his bust lip, and returns the grin.

We circle each other, moving in and out looking for openings, each scanning for weaknesses.

He’s a hard hitter, so I can’t let him get a hold of me or it’s over.

I need to be fast and smart. He feigns left, testing me, before darting right, his fist coming at my side.

I move out of the way into a roll, shifting into him instead of away, and before he can block, I uppercut his family jewels and dance away.

He groans, dropping to his knees with a wheeze before getting to his feet, his eyes pained and strained.

I don’t bother taking a cheap shot while he is down and end it, because I want this to be fair.

I want them to see what I’m made of, what Ivar created—his downfall.

“Ya fight dirty,” he comments and laughs, spitting blood to the sand and watching me.

“Always.” I nod.

The Berserkers gathered tighten their circle, cheering and shouting at us to get on with it.

He rushes me again, both fists moving through the air towards my face.

I duck and weave as he pummels at me again and again.

I keep my eyes between his fists and his feet, noting he moves them to the side when he is about to hit.

I let him tire himself out as I dance and spin, and his fists eventually slow enough for me to duck between them and upper cut his chin before dancing away.

He grunts, stumbling back, and I kick out at his side.

He grunts again, falling sideways, and the crowd starts to chant my name.

“Worth, Worth, Worth, Worth!”

Laughing, I go on the offensive now, seeing the strain in his eyes and knowing he is winded.

I sweep my leg and he stumbles over it, then I grab his swinging braid and smash my fist into his face again and again.

I feel my knuckles split, catching on his teeth, but I keep going until I see red covering his face, then I let go and step back.

I look at my knuckles and see the damage isn’t that bad, it’s reopened one of the old scars, but other than that it’s not my blood.

His nose is smashed and gushing blood, his lip is busted even more, and his eye is going to be sealed shut tomorrow. He wobbles, but stays upright.

“First blood,” he concedes, and then spits blood on the ground again, grinning at me, and showing a missing tooth and blood covering his mouth. He starts to laugh and I do as well as the crowd goes wild, cheering for me.

I look up, panting, and spot Dray, Erik, and Archel standing at the edge of the circle.

Archel winks at me and disappears. Dray runs his eyes down my body, the ice seeming to melt so I quickly look away before he jumps me or the other way around.

Erik nods at me with respect in his eyes, and I know he is finally realising I’m not the same girl who loved his son.

I’m a queen who got revenge for his death.

I couldn’t protect my loved ones then, but I can now, and I will stop at nothing to save them. Not ever again.

“Who’s next?” the fighter roars, slamming his fists into his chests. I step up and he looks at me before offering me his braid.

I lean close. “Keep it, warrior, it was close, but don’t let them know I said that or you’re dead,” I joke and step away. Evan pops up and hands over my holsters, which I slip into, but he spots the blood on my knuckles and groans.

“Fucking hell, I’ve started carrying a bag around just for you, do you know that? Why are you always covered in blood?” he grumbles, prodding my split knuckle.

“It’s not always mine.” I shrug.

“It’s not always mine,” he mocks. “Fucking brilliant. Do you have a death wish?” he grumbles, but I let him as he seals the wound and Erik walks up.

“I remember when you could barely swing your own fist,” he comments, his eyes sad.

“I learned fast,” I admit, and he winces and looks away before glancing back at me.

“Not like my boy. I don’t blame you, Worth. I want you to know that.”

I nod, looking away.

“Done,” Evan interrupts and I stride away, heading to my tent.

I can’t get close to Erik again, his family has a nasty habit of dying and I can’t deal with that.

Pushing aside the green flap, to what looks like an old army tent, I spot a rolled out sleeping bag with a crate and a lamp on the top.

Other than that, it’s bare, but it’s better than nothing.

I place the maps on the crate and throw my swords on top of them before looking around.

The tent flap moves behind me and I don’t turn, expecting Dray, but it’s Erik’s face I spot when he circles me.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t want you to blame yourself if you were.

Guilt is a hard thing to live with and you have enough horrors without that.

My boy loved you and you loved him, you gave him happiness.

His life might have been short, but he experienced so much, things others can only dream of.

He had the loyalty and love of a good woman, and if he were here now, he would be so proud of you.

Some things happen for a reason. He died so you could live, and now look at you.

You are saving us all from a war. Life is full of choices, he made his, and you have made yours. Now, I’m making mine.”