Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  "I would like that." Lenneth said, then nearly smiled. "We will take the horses with us?" It was amusing to see the way that question made him grimace, Lezard not at all eager for her to ride Obsidian a second time. He hesitated long enough with his answer, for Lenneth to turn pleading. "Please Lezard. Riding will be good for all of us."

  "I...I suppose..." His reluctance was clear by the way he talked, slow and hesitant was his manner. "But you have to promise me you'll stick to a slow trot this time!"

  "Of course." It was an easy enough promise to make, Lenneth delighting in the thought of riding Obsidian once more.

  Lezard reached up to brush back his bangs, muttering something under his breath. "You and that horse are going to bring an early death to me, I just know it."

  "There's no need to worry." Lenneth tried to reassure him. She couldn't keep her elation at bay in the moment, Lenneth sure her eyes were sparkling with her excitement. "Valkyries are excellent riders."

  "I don't doubt your ability to ride. It's Obsidian's wild nature that makes me worry." Lezard retorted.

  "He's just misunderstood." Lenneth replied. "The stallion has a sweet and gentle nature, when the right person is working with him."

  "So far the only person he's shown that sweet nature to, is you." Lezard rose up off the love seat, his hands smoothing down the front of his jacket. "Ah...I have something for you."

  "A gift?" Lenneth raised a brow at that. A present was the last thing she had been expecting. From Lezard or from anyone.

  "Yes. Call it a thank you if you like." Lezard looked a little embarrassed then. "A gift to thank you for doing me the honor of marrying me."

  Now it was Lenneth's turn to be embarrassed, the Valkyrie quickly looking away from Lezard's gaze. "I should hardly be thanked." She murmured, her fingers reaching to nervously play with her hair. "Given the trouble I've been, and the fact I haven't even lived up to my vows yet."

  "You've done more than enough." Lezard quickly assured her. She couldn't quite look at him, flush faced and flustered.

  "How can you say that?" Lenneth demanded. "Last night could hardly be called living up to your expectations of me!"

  "I would not worry about that." She looked up at that, frowning at him. Lezard's expression was serious, his eyes intent on her. "We may not have spent the night in the traditional manner, but I find I cannot regret the time I did get to spend with you...the time we used getting to know one another." Now she really was going to blush, Lenneth fighting the warmth flooding her cheeks. He looked pleased at that, Lezard smiling.

  "You'll get tired of talk soon enough." She predicted.

  "Perhaps." He agreed easy enough. "But I am sure the wait for you to be receptive to me, is worth it."

  Her blush bloomed redder, Lenneth quickly looking away. Lezard's eyes had filled with their own heat at that last sentence uttered. It was almost as though in that moment, he had been imagining her surrender, desire for her flaring in his gaze. Lenneth couldn't even think up a retort to that, too dismayed by her embarrassment. Lezard walked away from her, stopping over towards a sturdy book shelf that was situated near to his desk. She watched him as he unerringly went for one book in particular, Lezard opening it up to reveal the hollowed out insides. Lenneth would sit up straighter, her eyes locked onto the key revealed, the night's frustration returning to her as she recalled how she had been unable to open his desk drawers.

  Lezard didn't seem to notice the way Lenneth was watching him. Nor did he make any attempt to hide what they key was for. He'd use it, opening up one of the top most drawers of his desk. A long, square shaped case would be taken out, Lezard placing it on the desk long enough for the mage to return the key to the hollowed out book. He then retrieved the case, and carried it over to Lenneth.

  "It's not much..." He began, tone gruff. "I did not yet know you well enough to be able to ascertain what would not only be a suitable gift, but one you would want." He seemed apologetic as he handed the case to her, Lenneth noting it wasn't very heavy in her hands.

  "Thank you..." Lenneth said automatically, moving to open the case at Lezard's urging. The inside was line with blue velvet, and there was a lighter shade of tissue paper hiding the contents from sight. She would gently ease aside the paper, finding the treasure hidden within. It was a necklace, both the chain and the pendant hanging from it, all delicately wrought silver. There was a sapphire jewel in the center of the pendant, humming with power.

  "I bought it because it suits your coloring." Lezard said, in response to her silent study of the necklace. "Perhaps a sword would have been better..."

  "No, it's fine..." Lenneth reassured him. "It has a protection spell enchanted into it..."

  "A minor one..." Lezard confirmed. "Jewels are not the ideal focus for such spells. It takes a great deal of energy to enchant even a small spell into a jewel."

  "The magic and the jewels resist each other..." Lenneth murmured, vaguely recalling a lesson she had once had hundreds of years ago. "Something about the properties that make up the jewels...it makes them shun most magic..." She finally looked away from the necklace, staring up at him appraisingly. "This must have cost you a lot of money..."

  "The money matters not." Lezard quickly interrupted. "If the spell can help you in any way..."

  "I'm not sure I am worthy of such a gift..."

  "You are!" exclaimed Lezard, his tone passionate. "You are worth a million of those necklaces!"

  She was startled, and more than a little touched. Until Lenneth remembered what she was, what she had been. She lowered her gaze, almost depressed as she sighed. "You must do everything you can to safe guard your Valkyrie bride. Punished though I may be, Odin would not be pleased if something were to happen to me..."

  "Lenneth, that's not it...!" Lezard protested. She flinched this time when he touched her shoulder, Lenneth staring down at the case in her hands.

  "Thank you for the gift. I will be sure to wear it when we go out today." Her tone was a clear dismissal, Lenneth trying to get Lezard to drop the subject. That he didn't want to, was apparent, Lezard sounding frustrated as he talked.

  "You are a person of value, regardless of what you had once been. That I seek to protect and care for you, it has nothing to do with Odin! Or with the alliance he would make with my Queen!" His hands squeezed on her shoulders, Lenneth drawing her gaze up to meet Lezard's. "Lenneth...I...I...."

  "You what?" She asked. "What am I to you then? What purpose would you give me, if not that which allows Hel her chance to align with my King?"

  "You're my wife." He finally said in answer. It only made her sigh, Lenneth thinking that was not a good enough answer. It had to be the enchantment making itself known, Lenneth wanting, needing Lezard to say she was more than just that to him.

  "And you my husband." She said out loud. "We may have been joined together, but we are still strangers to one another. I suppose it is wrong of me to want that be different. Especially this soon...."

  "It's not wrong." Lezard protested. "Given enough time and talk, I'm sure we could become something more..."

  "But could you love me?" Lenneth asked, her voice an uncertain whisper. Damn it, but the enchantment made her feel too vulnerable around him, it and the small bit of love she felt for him, making her want things. Making Lenneth needy. She stared at Lezard, watching as his own expression closed up in response to her question. It was answer enough, Lenneth letting out a sad sigh. "Do you want to take the first bath, or should I?"

  "You can have it." Lezard stepped back from the love seat. "I will go make the preparations for our journey into the city."

  "All right." Acknowledged Lenneth, but she didn't turn to watch him leave. She was too busy trying to stay composed, feeling sick with how she had exposed her weakness to him. The weakness that had her craving his love, Lenneth's fingers tightening on the necklace's case. She hated that she felt this way, Lenneth feeling grief that her heart was not completely her own.

  ---

  ... />
  Chapter 40 : Forty

  Brahms was drenched in blood, the precious liquid soaking into his clothes along with the splattered remains of less appetizing things. To his right stood a einherjar, some human soul whose legs trembled badly. The einherjar's hands were also unsteady, sword shaking badly in his grip. He not only knew what the vampire King was capable of, he had witnessed it first hand. Einherjar had been torn apart, Brahms' claws knowing no more mercy to those that had turned their back on his offer of salvation. It was the same for his vampires, the many men and women who made this island their home turning absolutely ruthless as they worked to kill off those who had dared to invade this land.

  Brahms' vampires were especially vicious on this day. They had seen how the Valkyrie and their einherjar had turned up their noses on the chance Brahms had given them. How they had refused to grasp hold of the only opportunity that would ensure their continued survival, the Valkyries all but making a mockery of the truce the vampires' King had offered them. A truce that hadn't been popular among many of his own people, his vampires not understanding why any leniency would be shown to the enemy. Especially an enemy that had brought the fight to the vampire's only home, endangering not only their lives, but their one place of belonging.

  The vampires were a persecuted race. Unlike the humans that made Midgard their home, or the giants that lay claim to Jotunheim, Brahms people only had their island. It wasn't even that big of an island, the land mass just barely capable of sustaining several hundred vampires at once. Unfortunately for the vampires, they existed in the thousands, many of the race forced to spend the entirety of their eternity waging war up in the heavens.

  It was a slap in the face that the Valkyrie would not only come to the vampire's island, but wage war on it's grounds. It was an insult, and one that couldn't go unpunished. Brahms knew that, just as he knew how foolish his actions would seem in trying to spare the Valkyrie. It left him with much explaining to do, his judgment being called into question yet again. But now was not the time for his detractors to call into doubt his right to be King. No, now was the time when both friend and foe to Brahms' crown united and worked together, to rid their home of this blight of Valkyrie.

  It wasn't a quick process. The Valkyrie alone were a formidable opponent, each individual maiden worthy of several dozen soldiers alone. They had the strength and speed of Gods, and the wisdom of the ages. They had centuries worth of fighting and strategy to call upon, and not a single Valkyrie who had been sent to the vampire's island, was a novice when it came to dealing with the undead. Unfortunately for the Valkyrie and their einherjar, there was a large amount of elder vampires currently in residence on the island.

  Brahms refused to dwell on the disaster it would have been, had there only been fledglings residing on the island. Refused to think of the slaughter that would have ensued. Instead he kept focused on the battle at hand, his fangs and claws busy tearing apart any who came in reach. That included the einherjar who cowered before him, the man's eyes almost lost to the white of fear. His courage was faltering, and he wasn't the only one. Other einherjar were panicking, some attempting to retreat from the battlefield as one by one the Valkyries were slain.

  Brahms himself had killed enough of the battle maidens to have grown bloated off their blood if he had so chosen. But ever conscious of the eyes upon him, Brahms had made the magnanimous decision to share the Valkyries' blood with others of his race. The fact that he didn't take all that blood for himself, would serve to heighten his image, vampires quick to forgive some of his more foolish decisions. But never forget, Brahms snarling as his claws tore open the einherjar's chest. The killing was brutal, but Brahms never once held back. He had seen what little his mercy had gotten him, the Valkyries all but spitting in his face, and his own people appalled.

  He couldn't change the past, nor did he want to when it came to the reason why the Valkyries had come to the island. His attacks didn't gentle as he recalled the woman who still lay sleeping inside his bed chamber. If anything, he became even more agitated, Brahms wanting to return to Silmeria's side. But the battle kept him away, kept him from doing what he really wanted in the moment. His restless desires would have him stand watch over Silmeria, spend every waking moment keeping guard over her and her alone. But Brahms was not a free agent, but a King. And with that crown came the responsibilities of a whole race of people. As much as he wanted to pamper and dote on his bride, he had to take care of the threat to his people first.

  How many hours more would he spend on what was considered the front lawn of his castle? How many more would die at his hands? The numbers would continue to dwindle down, the Asgardians suffering far more losses than the vampires this day. It didn't mean his own people didn't die or get injured. There was many vampires who were hurt, their blood mingling with that of their enemies. Sometimes those wounds slowed the vampires down, but never did his people stop fighting. If anything they became more vicious, their intent to wound, to cripple, to kill.

  There would not be many left alive of the Valkyrie hunting party by the end. Even those few einherjar who had been spared from a killing blow, would soon find their life ended at the fangs of hungry vampires. The vampires wouldn't show no care or tender mercy to the captured einherjar, the men and women feeding eagerly, three, sometimes four vampires to a single person.

  Even with the sharing, there wasn't enough blood for all his vampires to feed. Many would have to seek elsewhere for the blood they needed, those able to, teleporting off of the island while those who suffered the worst of the injuries, remaining to feast on the prisoners. When every drop was drained out of the prisoners' bodies, the corpses would be given to the monsters of the island. The undead would at last have their feast, greedily gobbling down every bite and leaving nothing but bones behind.

  The feasting couldn't completely appease his people, but it went a long way towards improving their moods. Vampires and their meals were scattered about the surrounding area, the screams of the einherjar slowly being muffled as those souls gave in to the oblivion that awaited them. His undead monsters waited impatiently at the edge of the forest, watching with hungry gazes.

  Brahms himself was back on the ramparts of the castle, his watchful eyes studying the carnage below him. His still wet claws flexed, the vampire King finding it hard to calm down. It was not just the battle that had his energy so stirred, nor that of the chastising that would follow. In the moment he cared little for what his enemies would say, what they would find fault with of his actions this day. His thoughts were on Silmeria, Brahms waiting, wondering when and if she would wake up. That he could even doubt her awakening made him cringe, but it had been two days since the sun had forced her to sleep. Two days and one night, the former Goddess sleeping through that evening completely.

  It worried Brahms, the vampire wondering if perhaps he had made a mistake. His blood was powerful, having had several millennia to refine itself. Could a fledgling, even one as strong as Silmeria had proven to be, handle such a drink? He didn't know. It had been centuries if not millennia since he had last allowed anyone to drink from his own vein. Perhaps his blood was no longer a viable drink, perhaps he had evolved to the point it would poison another vampire, overwhelming and shutting down their systems. Brahms could not say for sure, only going by what he had seen, Silmeria staying dead even with the stars blanketing the night sky.

  It pained him to even think like this. To worry and wonder if the act that he had longed for, had instead brought about Silmeria's end. His claws curled, sharp tips digging into the palms of his hands. With the battle ended, there was little to do except think. To worry and let numerous fears form in his mind. But there was one thing he didn't think about. One path he refused to go down. Even as memories lingered in the wings, waiting for the chance to sweep him away into a recollection of pain and misery. It was a recollection he did not want, Brahms finding the experience once had been misery enough. And yet that misery, and the need for vengeance, had been the
propelling force that kept Brahms moving. The force that had allowed Brahms to rise up from nothing, time and time again, until at last he had his own empire.

  Brahms well new that empires could come and go, that kingdoms could crumble. Sometimes it took an army to destroy one, other times a single being. More vampires than he would have cared to count, considered Silmeria that destroying being. And if not her, then Brahms himself! And all because of that which he had set into motion by going after Silmeria.

  It left Brahms with much to atone for. His detractors would most likely gain even more vampires to ally with, and all because Brahms had shaken their faith in him. He couldn't simply kill off those most vocal against him, for that would reduce their numbers of elders by a drastic amount. Now more than ever, they needed the elders, needed them to continue making fledglings to bolster the size of their armies up in the heavens. For once where his crown was concerned, force wasn't the answer. Brahms had to be diplomatic, and he feared his skills as such had long since rusted from disuse.

  Certainly no one would think him a diplomat in these moments, Brahms who was an imposing figure under normal circumstances, now even more so covered in the blood and gore of his enemies. He stood like a stone giant, glowering down from atop his perch on top the castle ramparts. Anyone who looked his way, could tell in an instant he was agitated. They might not know the reasons behind that agitation, but they knew enough to look away. Few if any would approach him, conscious that his claws were out, Brahms visibly showing how eager he was to continue to fight.

  The sound of footsteps on the stone blocks that lined the pathway between the castle towers, had Brahms tensing. He did not fear a sudden attack, not with the one approaching him making so much noise. But he did worry for the news that approaching vampire was bringing him. Brahms would not turn to look the vampire's way, continuing to stare down at his vampires, who were now looting the corpses of the dead for weapons and any valuables they might have carried.