Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  The exasperated Valkyrie stared up a the vampire above her. His face only served to annoy her, Silmeria exhaling a deep, aggravated breath. And with that breath, sound was restored to her, Silmeria hearing the rush of all manner of noise. The sudden volume of it, and the clarity left her shaking, Silmeria realizing that this noise had always been there, serving as a muted background to the fighting that had just briefly went on.

  The sounds bothered Silmeria now that she was so keenly aware of them. She could hear footsteps, and the whisper of fabrics rustling. Voices spoke, their words sometimes about HER. Silmeria could not fathom the reason why, or how close these people actually were to her location. Not when their voices had an echoing quality to it, their words both coming from a distance AND sounding too close for her comfort.

  The other sounds that accompanied the voices, let Silmeria know there was other thiings besides people around her. She couldn’t take comfort in that, not when she was most likely held in the stronghold of the vampire king, his undead minions all ready to stand as obstacle to her every attempt at escape. But there wasn’t just vampires and monsters about. There was the lonely howl of what might have been a wolf sounding in her ears. It was nearly drowned out by the buzzing of insects, those night thriving creatures chirping out an unholy song.

  Any and all sounds now existed for her, Silmeria able to make out the sounds of a choppy and violent sea. Whole waves of it crested angrily against some rocks, the water slapping firmly at a sandy coast. Tree leaves rustled like the hoof beat of horses, her every sound heard at an unnaturally loud volume. Hearing all of this only confused her, more than half of these sounds being something that should have been impossible to make out. Even as a Goddess, Silmeria knowing that even with a Valkyrie’s superior senses, she should never have been able to hear half of what she now did.

  Silmeria shook her head as though that could free her from this particular distraction. She needed to be analyzing the situation, counting out the number of people that she could hear moving about the building. It was a lot from the sound of it, but Silmeria wanted a concrete number. How many undead stood between her and freedom? How many did she have to fight and kill or sneak past? Silmeria couldn’t tell, a frown twisting briefly across her lips. Freedom had never seemed so out of reach, the woman wondering what chance did she actually have.

  Odds against her thus, Silmeria’s blood still boiled for a fight. She was not even winded from her efforts against Brahms. Instead of exhaustion or that of pain, the Valkyrie actually felt exhilarated, her heart beating even stronger. This was a world of difference from the pain that she had known first hand, those weeks spent in bed, crippled and moaning, hurting from even the slightest of movement. Not even the tonics had been able to completely do away with and ease her pain, Silmeria suffering. Suffering in a way that she no longer actually felt, the woman letting out a pronounced gasp to realize what she had done, what she had felt. This was no medicine, and no amount of adrenaline pumping through her could have stopped her from feeling the debilitating effects of her injuries.

  It wasn’t the only impossibe, but it was one of the most pressing. Silmeria wanted to puzzle out the hows and whys of her miraculous recovery, but everything was interfering, It wasn’t just the sounds that crept into her awareness. It was the tantalizing smell, a sweetly seductive scent that seemed to call to her. Silmeria had tried to ignore it, the woman not needing any more distractions. Her nostrils still flared with her attempts to breathe in more of that appetizing scent when something hot splashed against her cheek.

  It shouldn’t, couldn’t be that hot, and yet it was, Silmeria feeling that liquid warmth burn a brand into her skin. Another splash hit her, and then another, lingering for one frozen eternity, before it smeared. Hyper focused on it, Silmeria felt every inch of her branded, as that red hot streak burned a path down her face.

  That brand just narrowly missed her lips, that streak of liquid almost touching the right corner of Silmeria’s mouth. It was disturbing how it’s very nearness seduced her, Silmeria actively longing to reach out and touch her tongue to it. Her teeth positively ached with desire, Silmeria started to strain and arch beneath the vampire holding her down. His own eyes had narrowed, the crimson afire with some dark emotion that made it difficult to acknowledge the existence of. So she didn’t, Silmeria slowly but surely breaking the connection of their gaze.

  Free from the compulsion of his eyes, Silmeria truly looked at Brahms. She saw his handsome face as a whole, took in the irresistible good looks that both soothed and tricked mortals into doing his bidding. That stark sensuality had been the end of so many, might even be the ruin of HER, Silmeria’s gaze lingering on his hard, unforgiving lips. His fangs had lengthened noticeably, the sharp incisors ready and waiting to bite down on anyone in reach.

  Fighting alarm at that thought, Silmeria tried to look away. Her gaze slid here and there, trying to take in her surroundings instead. The Vampire king’s nearness, his presence was suffocating her, drowning her in bodily awareness. Nothing else existed, nothing save the man on top of her, and that was BEFORE she glanced at his neck. At his BLEEDING throat, Silmeria being riveted in place by the sight. Those deep tears that had been gouged into him by the Valkyrie’s own nails, the skin torn ragged from her earlier brutality. Blood welled and trickled out, staining his throat crimson.

  His innate abilities lessened the extent of the damage, Brahms healed enough that he wasn’t gushing blood everywhere anymore. Instead there was that slow trickle, many trails collecting together, to form fat drops of blood that hung suspended between them. What felt like another small eternity must have passed, and then one of the lingering drops broke free. It’s slow, lazy descent splashed hot against her cheek. Silmeria didn’t flunch at that though, her eyes remaining open and staring enrapt at Brahms' throat. At the blood and the tears, that flesh that had been made ragged by her own nails digging in and dragging. It looked like it HURT, the skin torn so raw, and yet it wasn’t the nastiest of wounds. Not to a vampire, and not to a Valkyrie who had been active on the battlefields. Silmeria had not only seen worse, she had suffered through it.

  No wound, no matter how bloody and severe had ever held such a fascination to her. But this one now did, Silmeria almost hypnotized by the blood that continued to collect, the drops against her skin making her shudder in a way that had nothing to do with revulsion. Silmeria did not properly understand it, did not know why the blood had woven such a spell over her. Reality itself was affected, time seeming to slow, the many sounds that she had been hearing dulling to a subdued quiet. Why even Silmeria’s own breath seemed to stop, the woman aware of nothing but the fact that she existed. That HE existed, and that his blood was so tempting and close.

  Unconsciously in reaction, Silmeria licked at her lips, which now felt dry like her mouth. She was still so focused on the blood, unable to note the way that Brahms; own eyes had dilated at the sight of her tongue licking over her bottom lip. What she did know was that another drop was about to fall, Silmeria almost moaning with anticipation at the idea of feeling it splash against her skin. His blood that was so hot, burned like a fever to Silmeria. She wondered why, a vampire’s blood normally cold unless they had fed recently. Had Brahms fed, and if so then just WHOSE blood was it that ran hot through his veins?

  That troubling thought didn’t disturb Silmeria as much as it should have. Nothing was normal, not about the situation, not about him, and certainly not about her. Why else would she have arched herself upwards, straining against the very hands that held her pinned down, That cruel grip was maintained, but the vampire didn’t try to actually stop her. Brahms LET Silmeria press her front against his. His chest was marked with spilled blood, the copious amounts having fallen from the first intial gush of his throat’s wounds.

  Not yet dried, that red treat became a stain upon Silmeria’s own dress, the woman continuing to press her breasts against the vampire king. This was no liquid warmth to burn her, the blood there having al
ready had a chance to cool. Silmeria didn’t like that, the woman WANTING the heat that was escaping from Brahm's neck. And with that want, a beat sounded, then repeated again and again, Silmeria realizing that she was hearing the sound of the vampire’s heart. And with each beat of it, more blood seemed to flow, his heart’s strong, steady rhythm echoing louder and louder in her ears. It was a seductive beat, Silmeria staring at the pulse in his neck as she licked her lips once more.

  Her arch up didn't put her as close as she would have liked, Silmeria now frowning. She again strained against the hands that held her wrists captive, and suddenly just like that, she was free. Too taken with his blood flow, Silmeria didn’t stop to think, to wonder why he had released her from his grasp. Nor did she bother to ask herself just why that man was holding himself absolutely still. He was still situated a top her though, but there was enough freedom now to move, the woman shifting closer, her hand reaching for his hair. It’s spiky styled strands tickled oddly against her palm, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. Certainly it wasn’t enough to get her to stop, Silmeria stroking over his hair again. Over and over, and then down, her hand tangling through the thick strands of it, so that the Valkyrie could grip the vampire by the nape of his neck.

  With that grip secured, Silmeria had hauled herself upright, her face then burying itself in the side of his neck. Her nostrils had started flaring, Silmeria inhaling the aromatic scent of his blood. THIS is what she desired, what was making her so hungry, the scent such that Silmeria likened Brahms’ blood to the sweetest of ambrosia. She trembled then with excitement, both her hands on him, fingers actually shaking as they touched to and examined the damaged mess that the woman had made of his throat. The blood there was there so fresh, so hot and so slick, that it made Silmeria moan with the fiercest of need. She grazed and stroked her fingers over that damaged flesh, so that the blood would soak and stick to her skin. With that gathered taste on her fingers’ tips, Silmeria brought them close to touch her lip. And THAT is when she truly noticed her nails.

  Far longer than was natural, and currently tipped with a man’s blood, these were not the nails of a Valkyrie. Or even that of a mortal woman. Curving like claws, and looking dangerous and sharp, Silmeria recognized them for what they were. A vampire's claws. Her nostrils flared with her alarm, the dismayed breath unable to keep her strongest desire at bay. A rumble of protest sounded from deep within her, urging Silmeria to taste the blood that she had gathered on her fingertips. She ignored it, a horror growing within her as Silmeria began to fully process the oddities of her awakening.

  The speed that she had moved with, the sounds that she had heard, the lack of pain that she had felt. Her tongue ran over the tops of her front teeth, and it was there that she felt the pin prick sharpness of fangs. The dawning horror now bloomed in her eyes, half remembered flashes coming to her now in startling clarity. To a scant time of just a few days ago, when she had been nearly invalid from the pain, the herbal remedies barely enough to allow Silmeria to endure the ride inside the escort carriage.

  Intertwined with that scene in the carriage was another memory, of vampires, of ghouls and that of the lesser undead. They had surrounded her, attacking with vigor, her armor shattered open to expose the far too delicate skin it had guarded. For one near endless moment, the two scenes then competed for her attention. Silmeria would remember the pain that she had felt as her back had been torn open by cruel claws, remember the sight of her own blood splattering every which way on the ground around her. Most of all Silmeria remembered the struggle to remain upright, to hold onto her sword, the undead converging on her the instant that Silmeria had gone down for good.

  These debilitating memories, both brought to mind the crippling pain that Silmeria had slowly been learning to tolerate. She turned from one vivid recollection to another, until ultimately, the memory of her time in the carriage won precedence over that of the battlefield. Silmeria lost herself completely to that recollection, of how neither she nor her sister had been pleased with the number of men and women assigned to accompany them on their journey. The numbers had been far too little for them to truly be safe in the event of an ambush. And yet they had all foolishly persisted, the hope held that such a small party would give off the illusion that this group wasn’t something worthy of the undead’s notice.

  Even understanding the idea of that, Silmeria had still been uneasy. She had tried her best to keep her doubts and her worries from her sister, Lenneth. That she had succeeded at that much was not so much attributed to Silmeria, but to the feeling in the air. There had been too many troubling signs, what with the sky clouded over, the sun blocked completely from their view by the storm that was ever so present a threat. And still they had persisted in continuing the mission, worried that this might be their one and only chance to spirit Silmeria away to safety. Her sister Hrist and her einherjar has devoted days to the endeavor, the Valkyrie and her soldiers leading the undead on the most important of chases, slyly guiding them further and further away from the lands around castle Valhalla.

  The vampires and their undead soldiers might have been far from the castle, and from the Valkyrie’s entourage, but not from Silmeria’s thoughts. Lodged firmly in place, her heart had been troubled, both by the undead and by the thought of their leader. That king of theirs, Brahms, the vampire that had so doggedly pursued her. Just his name alone, just the thought of it, was enough to send shivers down Silmeria’s spine. The woman could remembered clutching at her hands, holding them together in a silent prayer.

  Did her prayers have any effect? No, of course not. Brahms was too determined, his every encounter with Silmeria having served to only deepen the vampire lord’s obsession with the woman. Such was his interest, that Silmeria had often wondered if escape had even been possible. She had especially wondered that on the day that had turned out to be as dark as it had. And even with that sky as portent for danger, Silmeria had still tried to stay optimistic, to hope for the best possible out come. It had been foolish, Silmeria now knowing how stupid and vain a hope it had been. There was no way to avoid him, no way to escape Brahms and his vampires.

  What might as well have been an army of them, had lain in wait for Silmeria and her escort, the vampires then descending upon them like a tsunami's wave. Everyone would become engulfed in the fighting, Silmeria losing sight of her sister Lenneth, and that of the other Valkyries. As the vampires had overwhelmed the einherjar, never had Silmeria felt as helpless as she had then, able to only watch as her allies had been slaughtered. Many had screamed at their end, their throats ending up torn out, their blood and their bodies littering the ground around Silmeria’s carriage.

  Even Silmeira had screamed, crying out for her sister. It had amounted to nothing, Lenneth having been too busy and too far away. She had tried to make up the distance, but for every step she would gain, a vampire would then push the Valkyrie back several more.

  Instead it had been left to the einherjar to try and come to Silmeria's aid. But most would be slaughtered with ease, their killers then surrounding her carriage. The doors had been locked, for all the good that it would do her. Silmeria having known that the vampires could and would use brute strength to tear off the doors. She hadn’t been content to just sit there and wait like a readily available target, Silmeria instead fumbling about the seat for any and everything that could be used as a weapon. She had been prepared to fight, though there had been little she could have actually done. Not so long as she had been drugged up on potions and afflicted with so much of that debilitating pain. And still Silmeria had been determined, the woman not wanting to be taken so easily.

  Miracously her hand closed around one bottle in particular. It was pure chance, and yet Silmeria had fumbled the cap off, just in time to give the first of the vampires who had dared to lean inside her carriage’s window, a face full of the bottle’s holy water. Silmeria would never forget the stench of the vampire’s burning flesh, and the pained howls that the creature had let
out as his skin had began to peel off. It had left the vampire distracted enough for an einherjar to then end his pain with a quick beheading.

  Silmeria would nearly jump in fright, her heart’s beat in her throat, when the door opposite her was ripped off the carriage. For one lone instant, a tall, broad chest vampire had stood in the shadows. Crimson eyes had stared at her, leaving Silmeria to shrink back against the seat. She had thought it was the vampire king himself, come to collect her personally. His hand had then extended towards her, palm up as though he had expected Silmeria to just give in and take it.

  She had been shaking her head no, lips curling back to bare her teeth in a feral protest when a spear had slammed through to the front of the vampire's chest. The ease in which the vampire had died had comforted Silmeria, the woman having then realized that it wasn't Brahms after all. But there had been no time to relax, the einherjar that had killed the vampire, moving to engage another.

  Silmeria had understood that she had been nothing more than a sitting target inside the carriage. And yet she had also known that it had been too risky to leave, to walk amongst the vampires in the midst of their killing spree. She had truly felt helpless then, and that was before the next vampire had reached into the carriage, and had grabbed hold of her arms before Silmeria could properly react.

  The only thing that had been left to her to do had been to scream, Silmeria having shouted for her sister as she had feebly pounded her fists against the chest of her captor. She had been dragged out the window, the vampire having shown little true care to how he had treated her.

  There hadn't even been time to look for her sister amidst the fighting, the vampire having held Silmeria close as he had teleported them away. It had been a jarring experience, that teleportation. The world had spun dizzily about her, reality’s many colors then blurring together. As suddenly as it had begun, it had been over, Silmeria and the vampire who had still had a hold of her, having arrived at the make shift camp that the undead had set up in the Forest of Spirits.