by T L Greylock
“But this does not please you.”
Raef sighed. “I do not know what is in my heart. Strange, that I should have lusted after this death for so long, and now, when at last I shall avenge my father, I can find no joy in what will happen today.” He looked at Siv. “I can think only of my uncle.”
“Then you believe the story Hauk wove about Dainn’s death?”
“I do not wish to,” Raef said, irritated with his own uncertainty, “but seldom did my father speak of his brother. When he did, there was sadness there, I could see, but also reluctance and something I am not ready to name, something with an edge, like a blade shrouded in darkness.” Raef felt for the Thor’s hammer that no longer hung around his neck, his fingers plucking at nothing.
“Could you forgive your father if it were true?” Siv prodded with a gentle voice.
Raef was quiet for a long moment and when at last he did speak, his words were no answer to Siv’s question. “It troubles me that I cannot answer that. He was a good father. Stern when he needed to be. Affectionate when he wanted to be. Fair, always, even when it caused me pain. He had my respect as well as my love. And yet when I begin to soften, when I want to forgive him for that moment of rage and wrath that killed my uncle, a moment I am sure he regretted, I see my own hands slick with the blood of my cousin.”
“Isolf was a traitor to your shared blood,” Siv said.
“But he was my blood.” Raef swept away the blanket and emerged once more into the grey, wet morning, no closer to understanding his mind. Standing, he stamped his feet to encourage the flow of blood as Lochauld approached bearing two bowls of steaming broth. These he set down on a flat rock as Raef gave thanks and retrieved strips of dried venison from his pack.
“Our supplies are running low, lord.” Lochauld said.
Raef nodded. “We will see home soon, Lochauld. Once this day is finished, we will set our sights to the sea.” Lochauld turned to go and Raef called after him. “Tell Njall to organize a hunt and seek out Bryndis or her uncle to discover if there is a lake nearby where we might fish through the ice. We will feast tonight and have plenty for the journey home.”
“Yes, lord.”
“And tell Dvalarr to be sure the prisoner is fed. I will not have it said that I did not grant him the comfort of a full belly.”
“Yes, lord.”
Raef strapped on his sword belt and fastened his knives and axe securely on the worn leather, then cradled one of the bowls of broth and handed it to Siv before taking the second for himself. The sleet pricked his face, harder now, and already the broth had lost much of its heat. Raef slurped it down and then bit off a piece of venison and began to worry it between his teeth.
“Cilla,” he called. “I know you are there. Come eat.”
It was a moment before the girl stepped out from behind the tree she had sheltered under during the night, but she took the meat Raef offered her with eager hands and chewed quickly, eyes wide, her jaw working hard.
“Have you been training, Cilla?” Siv asked.
The girl nodded, her cheeks too full to speak. But her eyes turned flinty and when she swallowed she spoke with vehemence. “They took my bow. And my knife.”
Siv smiled. “I will make you another.”
“Can I have a shield, too?”
“If you like.”
“What will we do now?” The question was directed at Raef before she tore off another piece of meat.
“What do you mean? The war is done.” This did not satisfy the girl, Raef could see, but he was not willing to speak of the final battle that he waited for with every breath. “It is time I went home, Cilla.”
Cilla wrinkled her nose. “That is all?”
“No,” Raef said, finding a smile despite his mood. “No, then I shall find someone to conduct the ceremony that binds me to Siv and her to me. But,” he went on, knowing Cilla craved something she could not name, “the lady Bryndis means to call a gathering so that the warriors might choose a king, as should have been done before the snow.”
The young girl’s eyes gleamed. “Will you go? Who will you name?” It was clear the girl had not heard of Raef’s own naming, and he was glad of that.
“If anyone asks my opinion, I will tell them to consider Eirik of Kolhaugen.” The choice came to Raef without thought, but it pleased him. The new lord of Kolhaugen would make a good king, if the final battle did not begin before he could be chosen. “But I will not go, Cilla.”
She snorted, showing her disapproval of that decision, then returned her attention to the last of the venison, her teeth flashing with all the fervor of a dog.
“And what will you do, Cilla?” Raef asked.
“Are you going to tell me to go back to my brother and sister?” Cilla was trying not to show her disappointment at the thought of being sent north to the foster home her siblings had found in Finngale.
“No.”
She beamed. “I would like to stay for the gathering.”
“You must ask the lady of Narvik.”
Cilla nodded, then rose from the stone she had been seated on and skipped off into the trees, no doubt intent on searching out Bryndis immediately. When she had gone only a few steps, she paused and Raef could see her straighten her shoulders and hold her head high. When she began again, her gait was steady and without the restlessness of a child.
“Perhaps I should send her north to Finngale,” Raef said, more to himself than anything. “But I cannot make her want to see her family again. When the rooster crows and sends the Einherjar into battle, she may come to that understanding on her own.”
“She is too fierce to run to them in fear.”
“Yes, but that does not mean she should not, when the time comes.”
“Would you run, Raef?” Siv’s question seemed to squeeze Raef’s heart and it beat faster in his chest as he imagined the fires and the flood coming for him.
“What man would not?” And yet the words tasted strange in his mouth. Siv watched him bend and pick up the two wooden bowls as though she knew what was in his mind. Raef took her hand with his free one. “Of one thing I am certain, Siv. I fear that we will never be joined in the sight of the gods.”
Siv pushed her palm out to face him, fingers spread. Raef’s hand rested against hers, reflecting it. “I am yours and you are mine. What need have we for the gods in this?”
Raef smiled, his heart lighter than it had been since waking. “None. But I should like the Allfather to know that I have found a woman superior to the goddesses in Asgard.” Siv laughed and the sound warmed him. But no sooner had he turned away than the darkness of the day seemed to settle on his shoulders once more, and he did not think even the sun, if it found the strength to break through the clouds, would chase the cold or the melancholy in his mind away.
**
It was past midday when the warriors gathered to see the lord of Ruderk die. Raef had chosen a spot deep in the pines, finding level ground where the trees grew further apart, letting in what light there was. The sleet had changed to snow, coating the exposed ground in fresh whiteness, and then back again so that it pricked at the necks of those who did not draw up their hoods.
Many were the faces who had come to see Raef enact his vengeance. All the warriors of Vannheim were there. They were quiet, their jaws tight, their brows creased as they anticipated the death that would bring long awaited retribution to all of Vannheim. Some had been with Raef and his father in Balmoran and these, above the rest, had reason to wish for Hauk’s death, for their own honor was at stake as long as he lived and their lord, slaughtered under their watch, went unavenged.
Eiger, Raef saw, watched with open interest. The Great-Belly’s son did not hide himself in the trees, but stood at the forefront of the watchers, nearly as close to Raef as Dvalarr the Crow. Cilla watched at Siv’s side, her young face carefully blank but Raef was sure he could see an undercurrent of impatience.
Behind the first ring, Raef saw Bryndis and her uncle and many
warriors of Narvik and Balmoran. They knew only that Hauk would fall to Raef’s sword and that it was right. Little talk of Einarr’s death had spread to them, leaving the reasons for Raef’s actions unclear. It did not bother most; they were long accustomed to blood feuds.
Raef searched the crowd for Vakre, but if the son of Loki was present he did not show himself, and his absence lowered Raef’s spirits even further. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the murmuring voices around him, and ducked his head against the sleet. His mind ran far away until he was immersed in a different forest, this one green with summer and rich with life. He knew the place and in his mind he climbed the hill above him until the forest fell away and there was nothing but sky, blue and vivid, and the rays of the sun, warm and bright.
With a deep breath, Raef opened his eyes, exhaling white vapor as he raised his head. He nodded to Dvalarr.
“Bring the prisoner, Crow.”
Dvalarr left the ring of watchers, and the moments of his absence seemed to press down on Raef, stifling him with the weight of what was to come. When he tried to remind himself what this was for, instead of his father’s voice, he heard Isolf’s screams. Raef tried to push away the weakness that threatened him, but it persisted, making his heart pound though he hardly seemed to draw breath. By the time Dvalarr returned with Njall and Hauk of Ruderk between them, Raef’s palms were hot and he could feel sweat beading on his back.
Vakre appeared, trailing just behind Hauk. If he had stayed to watch the prisoner and make certain there was no chance of escape, Raef did not know, but seeing Vakre’s face calmed his racing heart for a moment. He would not let himself think of what would come after, of what he had promised Vakre he would do. If he let that in, it would destroy him. He had only his strength left to him, and even that seemed uncertain.
He watched as Vakre took a place next to Siv and did not wish to look away, but then Hauk was being forced to kneel at his feet and Raef had no choice but to turn to his prisoner.
The lord of Ruderk’s wrists were bound behind his back, but he kept his balance as Njall and the Crow shoved him in front of Raef, coming to his knees with as much dignity as a man could hope for. Raef nodded at the two warriors and they backed away.
The hatred Raef had for Hauk simmered under his skin and Raef drew strength from it. But even then the knowledge that avenging his father was right was not enough and as he looked into Hauk’s eyes he saw his uncle drowning, saw Isolf’s agony.
“We can still rid the world of kings, Skallagrim.” Hauk spoke quietly but the words bit into Raef. “You and I can draw swords together and out of this dark hour we will shape a new world.”
Raef was shaking now, for with every word Hauk spoke he felt one of Isolf’s ribs crack in his hands once more. Summoning every last shred of control, Raef willed his body to obey him.
“There will be no new world, Hauk,” Raef said. He could not keep his voice steady and he was glad no one was close enough to hear his ragged reply. “Just as there will be no world soon enough.” He saw Hauk frown but his own turmoil was so great that it barely registered. “Ragnarök is coming. Soon Heimdall will summon the Einherjar to the last battle. Odin will know the sharpness of Fenrir’s teeth and mighty Thor will take his nine steps and fall with the serpent’s poison in his blood. And all will be darkness, for the wolves will devour the sun and the moon and the stars will fall. But the world does not end in that darkness. No, first the flames will bring a terrible light, Hauk, for Black Surt is coming and nothing will escape his blazing sword. Yggdrasil will burn. And then Jörmungand, the great serpent, will lash the seas and send the salt waters flooding over land. The fires will go out and then, yes, then, there will be a darkness eternal.”
Somewhere amidst that tumble of words, Raef had drawn his sword and he held it now against Hauk’s neck. His hands no longer trembled.
“When you see my father in Valhalla, tell him who sent you, and then tell him I am sorry I will not join him,” Raef said. He stared at Hauk for a moment, wondering if the other man comprehended what he was saying. Hauk was very still and seemed without fear. Behind those dark eyes, Raef was sure Hauk’s mind was at work, for this was a man always thinking, always planning, even as death touched him.
But then Hauk’s eyes shifted away from Raef, focusing instead on something over Raef’s shoulder. His face betrayed something at last, though whether it was fear or triumph, Raef could not have said. He did not turn, did not have to, and he kept his blade pressed against Hauk’s neck.
“Did you know she would come?”
Hauk shook his head.
“Why, though? What brings her back to save you?”
“You would have to ask her that.”
Raef turned at last and the chaos that heaved within him vanished. This was the steel song, then, nothing more.
Eira had changed since last Raef beheld her. She was taller, her skin more pale than ever. The blood that had stained her throat when she had swept Hauk away from the walls of the Vestrhall was washed clean, leaving no trace of the wound Siv’s arrow had given her. Her eyes promised depths and knowledge Raef could not grasp and yet there was still the same wildness about her, as though she could not shake the part of her that had watched her mother kill her younger siblings, as though she were still fighting for survival, even now, when she had been made a Valkyrie. She remembered Raef, he could see, unlike the last time when her confusion had likely spared his life.
Around them, the ring of watchers had gone silent with fear. Though only Siv, Vakre, and Hauk knew what Eira was, the others could sense it, and many reached for weapons. More reached for hammers that hung from their necks.
“Is this how it is to be, then?” Raef asked.
When she spoke at last, her voice was as he remembered Visna’s to be when all nine Valkyries had descended on the burning lake.
“There is only this, Skallagrim. And then you will be finished.” Her voice was the grinding of rocks, the rush of a waterfall taking flight, and the scream of an eagle. Among the pines, few could withstand its pain and the fear it spread. Warriors, tall and proud, dropped to their knees. Others stared in horror. Cilla’s face showed only fascination.
“Why, Eira? Why come for him?” Raef asked. Siv and Vakre had started forward, but Raef motioned for them to stay clear.
“You would question me? You are but a man, far beneath me. I am of Asgard now and my name is Roskva.”
“If I am but a man,” Raef said, feeling a strange laughter bubbling up from deep in his chest, “then so, too, is he.” Raef pointed at Hauk, who had come to his feet. “And yet you are like a dog on a chain. You cannot leave him to his fate because you, a Valkyrie, are still bound by an oath you made when you were merely mortal. How that must burn your proud heart.” He snarled the last and Eira answered by drawing her sword. Raef did laugh, then, though he hardly knew it. The blade was still dark, with none of the sunlight it had flashed with when Visna wielded it before her exile from Asgard. It was sharp and deadly in a Valkyrie’s hands, but it was still just a sword.
She came for him, the dark blade arcing with such swiftness that Raef was forced to throw himself clear, but he came up on nimble feet and his sword shivered against hers as they met at last. The clash reverberated through every bone in Raef’s body, and he was sure the earth beneath his feet and the tall pines standing watch shuddered with the force of it. Her strength pushed him down and nearly sent him to one knee, but Raef, baring his teeth at her, stood tall once more and drew his axe with his right hand. Eira saw it coming and she drew back, avoiding his swing. Raef pressed on, lashing out with both hands, but Eira deflected and dodged with breathtaking skill until she was no longer on the defensive and it was Raef who had to work to keep his footing. Soon every movement was one of desperation. He knew he could not win. The edges of his vision darkened, leaving only Eira’s blade of death and the feel of his own weapons in his hands. He moved on instinct, but it would not be enough in the end and his mind, empty o
f all else, reached out for the fate he knew would come soon, the fate that would not send him to Valhalla.
He brought the axe up late, catching only enough of Eira’s sword to keep it from taking his arm, but her blade bit into the flesh of his right shoulder and then it was gone. The axe fell from Raef’s hand and he saw her sword come again, this time meant for his right side. She would carve into his torso, drag the sword up into his ribs. The leather would not stop her. He would fall and he would feel the blade as it ripped out of him, taking flesh and bone with it.
But the blow never came. Eira’s swing slowed, the sword hovering, waiting, hungry for Raef’s blood, and Raef had time to bring his sword across his body and knock her blade away. She did not resist. She did nothing but twist her torso, an awkward movement that reminded Raef of a deer caught in a trap. And then she opened her mouth as though to scream, but there was no sound.
Only then, in that strange moment that should have seen Raef’s heart beat slow and then cease, did Raef see Cilla.
The girl’s arm was soaked in blood, but not her own, and she still held the knife that was buried in Eira’s back at the base of her spine. The Valkyrie twisted again, wild gaze roving in search of what had done her such harm, but then Cilla withdrew the knife and Eira collapsed, her legs useless.
The shadow that came for her was cold and darker than midnight and the air ripped from Raef’s lungs as it swept over him, but then it was gone and there was no trace of Eira but for the blood in the snow and the dark sword that had dropped from her hand.
Raef sucked in a breath and fell to his knees, drained by something other than Eira’s speed and fury or the wound in his shoulder, but as his head cleared, he saw that Cilla was unmoved, untouched by the darkness that had come for Eira. The girl reached down and, with a gentle hand, set the small knife in the snow, then walked to where the dark sword lay, the blade streaked with Raef’s blood, and bent over it. Raef watched as her small fingers touched the hilt, then curled around it. When she lifted it, a sunrise spread through the dark, cold metal until it was blazing with all the brilliance of day, a ray of sunlight in her hand.
