Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  “Each and EVERY one.” The God had then acknowledged, his coal gray eyes focused on the battle before him. There hadn’t even been a tension to him, the man not frightened of Lezard or that of the thread of the undead. They had all been but insects to a God as powerful as Odin, annoying but otherwise harmless.

  Speaking with that tone of pride and possession, Odin had inclined his head slightly to Lezard. The mage had then took the visual clue, starting to turn to see just what had caught Odin’s eyes this time. The fighting had drawn closer, the Valkyries absolutely brutal in the way that they had continued to make sport of their foes. “For as long as they can fight, they are each mine. To do with as I see fit.”

  It had always been that way. The hard truth of it a fact that was a cornerstone of the foundation of the universe under Odin’s rule. Everyone in all of the nine realms knew of Odin and his Valkyries, knew of their purpose, and of their unflinching duty. Both guardians of his cosmos, and executioners of the God’s law, Odin’s Valkyries had had their lives, their very existences, mapped out by him.

  The divine fire in their blood, these Goddesses had been forged by armor and steel. There had been a driving need inside each of them, a regimented focus for order and law, the violence inside them a cold, practical thing that thrived not on cruelty, but on justice. It was the Valkyrie that saw to the safe guarding of all the realms, who both protected and rewarded Odin’s followers for their faith.

  These same Goddesses who pulled off such miracles, weren’t just the turning tide in the war against the undead. They were also an incentive. Everyone, EVERY man, woman, and child knew of the fate of the fallen Valkyries. Human, elf, divine or otherwise, and even that of the undead, all knew what was promised. What had tempted many a human and an elf into an alliance with the Gods. It wasn’t just that the women were beautiful, that marriage to one elevated your status in the eyes of all. It was the blessings that came with having a former Goddess as your bride, the beauty, brains, and strength of the Valkyrie passing on to their children. The best and the brightest in all the realms, many of Creations’ strongest heroes, and most brilliant and crafty of strategists, had been birthed from a Valkyrie bride. All of whom had raised up arms in the name of the God Odin, the warriors his to command in life and in death.

  The heavens full of these soldiers, there had been few if any to rival Odin’s amassed strength. Most knew enough to not even try, and of those many factions of Creation, only that of the combined forces of the many kinds of undead, and that of the underworld’s followers, even dared to separately attempt to make trouble. Both failed to make any lasting and long differences, neither Brahms’ undead, or that of Hel’s followers strong enough on their own.

  It was the Valkyrie blood that was making all the difference. It was the Valkyrie’s children who had kept the realms from being overrun. From being destroyed completely by that of the undead, and from Hel’s own insane ambitions. They truly were the ideal in women, so breath taking lovely and strong, that they were in high demand everywhere, even in a land like Flenceburg. A kingdom dominated by the underworld, and a people completely free of Odin’s reign, and there too were the warrior Goddesses so coveted, so lusted after by the men.

  It was a lust that had always meant to go unfulfilled, the people there shunned. Looked down upon, even hated for their alliance, Hel’s followers had been damned in more ways than one. A greedy, grasping nation of people, Flenceburg and the other lands that had fallen under Hel’s rule, had let their lust for power and wealth drive them. A nation built on the backs of betrayals and manipulation, of cruelty and fear, Lezard had been able to admit, at least to himself, that Odin hadn’t been so far off after all. Not about mortal men and the weaknesses that the God had derided as being inside them.

  Even Lezard himself wasn’t above or below such weakness. His hands were too stained with many a misdeed, the mage having been well aware that his own life record wasn’t much of anything to be proud of. The man had done what he had needed, to survive, and to thrive, no other real choice afforded to him. There had never been, Lezard damned, doomed to a life under Hel’s thumb from the first moment the promise of his magic had made itself known.

  The unfairness of it all had begun to bother the man more and more, Lezard increasingly aware of his own mortality. Of the odds stacked against him, the enemies more so than age set to bring him down, and sooner rather than later. It had always been the way of things, Lezard at the very top of the food chain when it came to Hel’s people. And once at the top, there was little else distance to travel but DOWN. There simply was too many people, too many eager to take Lezard’s place. Too many willing to sacrifice and push him over, and Lezard was aware that the swift and brutal fall would not end with his death.

  Damnation awaited them all. Damnation awaited HIM, Hel hardly the forgiving kind of Goddess to show ANY of her followers mercy. She used and abused them as she saw fit, had done so for a millennia of time. Grown and groomed under her care, the Underworld’s followers hadn’t had a chance, hadn’t known much of any other way but that of Hel’s. Doomed and damned by the life they had all been born into, by the nation that had branded it’s corruption into their very soul, Flenceburg and the like weren’t going to find any salvation at the hands of any other God. Not even that of the King, Odin of Asgard an uncaring, intolerant despot who had no use for any one but those that could fight and win him his battles.

  He had ALWAYS been that way, Odin tossing aside his undesirables, the sick and the elderly, any and all who did not fight and die in glorious battle in HIS name. The underworld was jam packed with the souls of the undeserving, men, women, and children all made to suffer for Hel’s amusement and rage.

  He had bore witness firsthand to the tortures that Hel had delighted in inflicting on those innocently undeserving, on them and on sinners alike, Nifleheim’s Goddess just as quick to torment the damned as she was the doomed. It made her both feared and hated, even as the damned all tried to curry favor with the Goddess, each one hoping, praying that their end fate would turn out differently.

  No one had ever found a way around escaping Hel’s punishment. No one had ever even come close to it, but Lezard had still been determined to try. Odin had seemed to be the key, to be the one and only chance of a salvation, Lezard had been prepared to risk it all, to pull off the ultimate in betrayals for the God’s promise of something better. He had just never dreamed that there would be something that the mage would want more than that of the heaven’s paradise.

  Unprepared for the rush of desire that would hit him, that near undeniable want, Lezard had turned back towards the God. Odin of Asgard was now LOOKING at him, the divine being holding an expectant air to him. Lezard had paused a moment, before offering up a greeting, his tone completely respectful but lacking the reverent awe that so many of Midgard would have been prone to voicing. He had simply been that unimpressed, Odin not the first or the last of the divine that Lezard would ever have dealings with.

  “Lord Odin.” Somehow Lezard had managed to keep the disdain out of his voice, the disgust that this God inspired. A bleeding heart Lezard might not be, but the mage still hadn’t been able to understand how any one being could be so cold and uncaring, so callous and cruel and NOT be insane.

  It had been thoughts like that, and the disgust, that had nearly kept Lezard from protocol. It had been the annoyed look in the God’s eyes, and Lezard own increasing instincts for self preservation that had the man sketch a quick bow. The mage hadn’t been about to go down on his knees, not for a God he didn’t follow, and certainly not for one that Lezard so despised.

  It had been enough, Odin at last giving his own bit of acknowledgment. His eyes had narrowed, the God having continued his looking, not so much studying Lezard and his outward appearence as that of his soul.

  “You are not one of my Valkyrie’s einherjar.” He had stated. His nostrils had visibly flared, Odin sniffing with disdain. “The scent of the death you cause may cling to you, but
it is a far different trait that gives you away.” A further narrowing of the God’s eyes, Odin giving him the once over. “Necromancer. I have been expecting you.”

  That Odin had known him for what he was, hadn’t much surprised Lezard. There had always been a magic inside him, an unholy potential that had singled the man out to more than just Hel. That dark power inside him, the damning energy and the foul deeds that had result from it and Hel demands, had all thoroughly left a mark on the mage. What HAD been surprising? That the God Odin had acted as though he had been awaiting his arrival. Lezard hadn’t been able to fathom the how and the why of it, any more than he had been able to ascertain if the God had been prepared to receive him as a visitor rather than a threat. Lezard had still hoped against the latter, the man not wanting his life to be ended before he could so much as draw the breath needed in which to make his plea.

  “It’s very...” He had hesitated then, the uncertainty of what Lezard had faced, leaving the man to take extra care with the choosing of his words. “It’s very KIND of you to come greet me, yourself...”

  “I was curious.” That admittance had had Lezard lifting an eyebrow, the mage staring at the God.

  “OH?”

  “I thought to myself, what reason could Hel possibly have THIS time to have sent yet ANOTHER one of her minions here to my domain. Is she really that reckless, or is it that Hel simply has more souls than even SHE knows what to do with?” Odin had chuckled then. “Hel certainly cannot still be fool enough to think I would ever be lured into an alliance with her….” His head had cocked to the side then, Odin having again made Lezard the focus of an intent, scrutinizing stare.

  It was unnerving, Lezard having blinked slowly in an attempt to recover. The God gad simply set him off balance, Lezard feeling a little too slow and dull witted to make any real progress. “Queen Hel is prepared to...to make it a very lucrative alliance….” He had trailed off at Odin’s laughter, that gruff bark of disdainful amusement that had chased away all the light from the God’s eyes. It had made Lezard’s blood run cold to see, the mage having been certain that he was about to be struck down.

  “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?” Odin had demanded. A kind of scoffing snort had followed those words, Odin absolutely disgusted, maybe even downright disappointed with Lezard. “What could she possibly offer that I don’t already have?” Those words, that question, had been accompanied by a grand gesture, his arm encompassing the combatants around them, the Valkyrie and the einherjar who had since joined them in the fight against the undead.

  “As you can see…” Odin had continued with a gloating smile. “I have all the soldiers that I need, the best and the brightest in all the realms, picked fresh from the many who have died. How can she hope to compete, what does Hel think that she has, save for the leftover remnants? The weak and the damned, those not fit for my paradise?”

  Such words had had power to them, for both their cruel undertones and the absolute truth of them. Certainly the words had had a power over him, Lezard reacting. He had tried and had failed to keep the God from riling him up, Lezard’s face heating up with his anger, with his very resentments. It had all come pouring out as a challenge, Lezard almost mocking the God with questions of his own.

  “And what of the living?” Lezard had asked. “The many of Midgard, the many who follow Hel….The many that could be utilized in your war with the undead?”

  “What of them?” Odin had questioned in a flat tone of voice.

  Lezard had been too caught up in the moment, a hint of his pride revealed in the boasting tones that he had then used. “You have seen my power, have you not? Gotten the briefest taste of just what I am capable of. Imagine an army of such powerful mages at your command….”

  “If Hel had such an army, if she was even capable of empowering so many, your Queen would have overrun the Heavens by now.” Odin’s tone had been ever so dismissive. “No, such power is a rarity, and that which you boast about is so tainted by Hel’s hands, so thoroughly corrupt, that it makes you little better than Brahms ilk. The both of you lot need to be put down as the menace that you are.”

  Lezard hadn’t been able to stop himself, or the anger. “We could never be considered similar to that of the undead!” He had snapped out in protest. “They see us only as a food source and as a way to bolster the size of their armies. What they don’t destroy, they make use of...”

  “You know this, and yet it is YOUR kind that STILL falls the fastest when it comes to the undead and their seductions.” Odin had made a chiding sound then, the God having shaken his head as though in disbelief. “Is Hel’s domain so horrible that so many of you would prefer the life of an undead to the eternal rest of Nifleheim?”

  “Rest?” Lezad hadn’t been able to stop himself in time, the mage scoffing. “Is that what you equate her tortures to?” He had shook his head then, biting at his tongue. “No, Lord Odin. I can say neither Hel’s torture, nor that of an eternity spent as one of the undead, neither one makes for an attractive option.” His tone had turned bitter then, Lezard unable to keep the anger and the disgust, the disdain, from seeping into his voice. “But then the paradise fields of Asgard have long been denied us. Denied to all but that of the elite who have fought and died in YOUR name.”

  Such bold face impertinence, fact though it may have been, should have seen Lezard struck down dead. Instead the God had seemed to enliven to the topic, actually having tried to debate the merits of HIS way with Lezard.

  “You think it wrong of me to deny some paradise?” Odin had asked, pausing long enough to receive Lezard’s stiff nod of agreement. “Ah, but what is the promise of paradise if it was freely give to any and all?” Odin had wondered out loud. “One must work to achieve it, and my demands are not so harsh...”

  “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” He hadn’t been able to keep from sounding rude. “Not everyone can fight. Not everyone is..”

  “Anyone can fight.” Odin had interrupted him. “It just takes skill and practice to be able to fight well.”

  “Are you saying then, that you would have everyone fight then? The untrained and those without any skill? The sick and the elderly, the children and their mothers all going to the slaughter, just for the chance to get into your paradise?” The shock that he had felt, had nearly left Lezard shaking. On some level he had known and accepted that the God was an arrogant being, but to be faced with the disdain and the lack of empathy that Odin so clearly had, had almost been more than Lezard could stomach.

  His upset and anger would only grow worst in the face of Odin’s calm retort. “That is a choice left entirely to the mortals.”

  His blood had boiled over with his anger, with the frustration and the despair that this cruel deity had helped inspire. With that seething rage inside him, Lezard had never felt more a danger, that reckless anger uncaring, wanting to lash out against the insult that was the God Odin. It would have bee suicide to even try, the strength of Lezard’s magic still not strong enough to take out a God.

  That vast difference between them, both in age and in power, and the rapidly fading chance of the salvation that Lezard had still stubbornly hoped for, those were what had stayed him. His magic and his tongue, Lezard breathing out an exasperated breath as he had struggled to get himself under control. A flash of braided platinum, the Valkyrie that he had so admired having stepped into just the edge of his vision, had Lezard then turning.

  The sight of her had calmed the worst of his fury, Lezard able to then breathe better, to think clearer. But not even the Valkyrie could chase away his disgust, the repulsed feelings that Odin himself had continued to inspire.

  The God hadn’t seemed to have noticed, hadn’t realized, or just hadn’t cared. Lezard was inclined to believe it had been the latter, Odin clearly an existence that didn’t much care what others had thought. About him, or about much of anything, the God considering himself superior. Such arrogance the likes of which Lezard had never known, Odin
was in sore need of a smack down.

  Such a reckoning would not be made by mortal hands. At least not in so physical and permanent a way. But there were OTHER ways to strike a blow to Odin’s ego, to take from him the things he most valued. It was a knowledge that Lezard had, a secret that could and would steal from Odin the very things needed to empower Hel to realize her ambitions. It brought a very real dilemma to Lezard’s heart, the struggle of right versus wrong, the desire of what he had wanted and what he had hoped, leaving the mage conflicted.

  His salvation possibly in reach, and Lezard had still hesitated. Odin hadn’t known enough to keep quiet, the very sound of the God’s voice a grating annoyance.

  “How desperate must your queen be.”

  There had been no reaction from him, Lezard instead choosing to stare straight ahead. To keep focused on the lovely warrior, the vision in cobalt blue that had so effortlessly caught hold of his interest. Her braided hair was in constant motion, Lezard unable to catch a lasting impression of the entirety of the Valkyrie’s face.

  “Hel has to realize that she is wasting time, both hers and MINE.” Odin had continued. “I will never trust her enough to make that alliance.”

  “Do you fear her then?” Lezard had dared to ask. Odin had rewarded the absurdity of that question with his smug laughter.

  “Not in the slightest.” Odin had turned ti boasting once more. “She is no match for me.”

  By the strength that he had sensed was contained inside the God, Lezard had known that much to be true. “Alone yes, but perhaps...”

  “She thinks to get help?” Odin had guessed then at Lezard’s silence. “From who...none would dare...”

  “The undead might.” Lezard hadn’t been able to keep from needling the God.

  “Brahms” Odin had hissed. “Is HE Hel’s game?” Lezard had merely shrugged his shoulders in response, thinking it interesting how bothered the idea of an alliance between Hel and the undead Lord had made the God act. Lezard had even gone so far as to privately wonder if there might be some weakness that was there to exploit.