Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  The humans here weren't coerced or bespelled, their eyes bright with awareness. Nor were they foolish or suicidal, being people who wanted the chance to live. Some might enjoy being fed on a little more than Silmeria thought was healthy, but the humans here were happy. The only thing they might truly long for, was the chance to go out of the castle. But with the undead monsters roaming the island, that wouldn't have been wise.

  Protected and well paid for, these were people who had been given a new chance at life. They all seemed in agreement that they were better for their association with the vampire race. They didn't even seem that bothered at the thought that by feeding the vampires, they were actively defying the Gods. They didn't know the truth about Odin or the war the vampires fought against him, but many were indebted to the beings who had saved them, rather than the Gods who had sat idly by.

  Silmeria had flushed to hear it, ashamed because she knew it was true. Odin did not cater to the prayers of the humans, the entreaties for miracles. He demanded complete obedience, and reveled in the power he gained from their worship. But otherwise he did not care much about the very people he had created. Odin seemed to only see the humans as instruments, taking those he deemed worthy to be his puppet army, while the rest were tossed to Hel and her cruel torments.

  It was an unpleasant truth she had often turned a blind eye to, telling herself instead Odin had been busy defending the realms from the vampires. But that wasn't true, Odin himself doing little of the actual fighting. The Valkyrie and the einherjar, had waged Odin's war for him, carrying out his vendetta against the vampires mercilessly. Silmeria fumed to realize that both the Valkyries and the vampires, and also the many different souls that became einherjar, were nothing more than pawns on a chess board to Odin. What's worse, he played the game well, having come perilously close to a final victory over Brahms.

  It really wasn't fair, Silmeria thought, turning to seek out Brahms. He hadn't once tried to feed, instead waiting patiently for Silmeria to finish her interviews. She recalled now, that the humans were all on recuperative leave, a leave granted to them the night Silmeria had gone ballistic in the ballroom. The vampires had needed to feed, both to calm down and heal the injuries Silmeria had caused. So many vampires had been in need of blood, these humans hadn't been able to take care of them all. Silmeria remembered how dismayed she had been at the thought of the vampires leaving the island to seek out more prey. She knew that is what Brahms would have to do, and that she shouldn't keep him any longer from that.

  Eyes holding his gaze, Silmeria walked towards him. She was glad he had brought her to meet the blood donors, and that the humans had allowed her to hear their stories. The stories had reassured her, and taught her more about the culture of the vampires. There was still much to learn, Silmeria wondering how the vampires decided who to make a donor out of, and who to turn into a vampire. But curiosities like that would have to wait until after Brahms had sated his own hunger.

  "I'm ready." Silmeria said as she reached him. Brahms didn't have to ask if she had found out what she had needed, his sharp hearing surely allowing him to eavesdrop on the conversations. Her gaze was concerned as she looked up at him, but he was the picture of strength, sun darkened skin unable to hold the paleness that all other vampires had.

  Brahms opened his mouth to reply, only to let out a growl instead. Silmeria felt the energy a second later, Brahms drawing her behind him as though to shield her from the new arrival. It was a man, a vampire with hair so blonde, it was more silver than yellow. He had markings on his face, black ink tattooing an intricate pattern that covered not only his left cheek, but spiked up over his eye. It added to the sinister look of him, the vampire's ears pierced with golden hoops.

  Silmeria peered at him as best she could manage, given Brahms was in her way. The vampire looked at her, and outright sneered, ignoring the growl Brahms let out. "So this is her. This is the Valkyrie you have lost your head over."

  "Valkyrie no more." Brahms pointed out, his voice as angry as the other vampire's expression was. "Silmeria is one of us now, and you will treat her with all the respect due my bride."

  Another sneer. "I will afford her all the respect due a witch who has bespelled my King to take leave off all his good sense!" Instantly, Brahms had the vampire by the throat, claws digging into that tender flesh. The vampire didn't gasp in fear, actually snarling instead. "Yes! Kill me! Kill me and prove how clouded your judgment has become!"

  Brahms growled in response, but didn't tear out the vampire's throat. "What do you want, Perseus?"

  "My bride is dead. She died defending our home and that...." A pause at the threatening sound Brahms let out, Perseus changing whatever he had been about to call Silmeria. "Witch of yours."

  "I am sorry for your loss." Brahms' anger had not lessened. "But Silmeria is not to blame."

  "If not her then who?" Perseus demanded. "She is the reason the Valkyrie hunted on our island. She is the reason so many died!"

  "I am the one who brought her here. It was my theft that angered the Valkyrie." Brahms pointed out. "It was an insult they could not tolerate."

  "My bride is dead because of your lust! I demand equal recompense."

  "A life for a life?" Silmeria asked, and both men glowered at her. "Sorry. But I am not dying, and I will not stand back and be talked about as though I have nothing to add to this discussion." Neither male calmed, Silmeria sighing. "Now...what must we do to make this right by you and the bride you lost?"

  "There is nothing!" Perseus snapped. "You cannot, anymore than you could placate the others who have suffered similar losses. Brahms, there will be a reckoning for your actions."

  "Careful whelp. You go farther than your bride's death would allow." Brahms told him.

  "I go not far enough!" The other man retorted. His claws were out, though he had yet to use them.

  "You are in shock." Silmeria said, but her voice only served to further agitate the grief stricken vampire. "You need time to grieve..."

  "She doesn't understand, does she?" Perseus demanded. "She doesn't realize the magnitude of the loss I've suffered!"

  "She is still new to our ways." Brahms answered, his tone gruff. "Still learning the ins and outs of our culture and what it means to be a vampire."

  "It doesn't excuse her."

  "I'll tell you again, Perseus, Silmeria is not the one at fault here!" Brahms actually shook the other vampire, the man's hands scrambling to claw at the King's arms. The scratches bled Brahms, Silmeria stepping forward in concern.

  "That's enough!" She snapped. Brahms really couldn't afford to lose anymore blood tonight. Brahms shifted to block her with the hand that wasn't gripping Perseus' throat, clearly not wanting her any closer to the angry vampire. "I am sorry for your loss. Truly I am....but hurting me, hurting Brahms will not bring her back."

  "I do not want your apologies!" Perseus hissed. "Or your sympathy!" He locked eyes with Brahms, expression vicious as his fangs flashed. "May the day come soon when you lose your bride. Then and only then, will you understand the suffering you unleashed on your people with your lust!"

  Perseus barely got out those words, Brahms snarling like a feral beast. Silmeria gasped, and was barely in time to keep Brahms from crushing the other man's throat. Any other fledgling wouldn't have had the strength to stop the King of the vampires from killing, but Silmeria was no ordinary fledgling. She still didn't understand why she had been gifted with the strength and speed of a vampire that was nearly the match of Brahms, but she was grateful for that power.

  "Killing him won't help!" Silmeria said, drawing Brahms away from the crumpled form of Perseus on the floor. "If anything you will only prove him right about you....about the effect he claims I have on you...."

  "I will not tolerate threats against you, even veiled ones!" Brahms snapped in retort. He was shaking, barely holding in his fury. Silmeria continued to hold onto him, trying to both soothe him and prevent him from returning to Perseus' side.

  "I am
much harder to kill than perhaps you or Perseus realize." Silmeria said. "Especially now."

  "You are not a mere fledgling." Brahms agreed, relaxing but only slightly. "But do not allow your abilities to make you cocky and careless."

  "I won't." She glanced back at Perseus who had pushed up onto his knees. "You were right that I shouldn't have been seen. Not on this night, not when the loss of lives is still so fresh on everyone's minds." She returned to looking at Brahms, inclining her head in a nod. "I am ready to return to my room."

  Brahms nodded back, and the energies gathered around them. She heard Perseus snarl, his words sending a chill through her as he shouted about how even time would not heal the wounds of this night, of how the vampires would never forget the sins of their King. Silmeria shivered, unsettled because of the ring of truth held in Perseus' words.

  ----

  ....

  Chapter 43 : Forty Three

  Flenceburg was an impressive city, as wealthy as it was large. Lenneth did not know it's exact specifications, the city blocks stretching for miles in every direction that she could see. Those blocks were crowded with buildings, each one an impressive stone and marble dwelling that stood with not so much an inch of space between the homes. Those homes were more space than was needed for a single family, three, sometimes four apartments placed on top of one another. Of course, some families were rich enough to afford to have entire buildings to themselves, but only those that were overly extravagant wasted their money in that way.

  It was a well populated city, being the crown jewel in the kingdoms Hel had control over on Midgard. The premier school of magic had it's home here, and many eager apprentices fought for the chance to study in the academy's hallowed halls. Of course there were other less prestigious schools. But the best and brightest studied in Flenceburg, spending a small fortune in the hopes they would become good enough to gain the Goddess of the Underworld's notice.

  Lenneth knew Lezard himself would have most likely received his education at the magic academy, exceeding the expectations placed on him once his abilities had started to show. A natural talent for spell casting, Lezard had to be a genius when it came to magic. His status in Flenceburg was proof of that, the man ruling over the city in Hel's place. It was a precarious position, needing only someone just a little better, stronger, smarter, to throw him down from his perch.

  Lenneth didn't like that she worried for him, for his safety and continued well being. Not when she was still too raw from what had been said this morning. Or rather what had not been said, Lezard refusing to give her the words she had grown to want to hear. She didn't expect him to love her just yet, but that he couldn't, wouldn't consider the possibility that one day his feelings could develop beyond the desire he so obviously had? It hurt her, Lenneth feeling as though he had effectively cut her to the quick with a sword. It left her wondering what was so undesirable about her, that Lezard refused to even try to love her.

  Especially when Lenneth was one step closer to being hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Lezard! The enchantment had played havoc with her feelings, with her very nature, awakening in Lenneth this unwanted need to be loved by him. She had been struggling for days against the enchantment's poison, fighting to keep from losing herself completely. In one unguarded moment, she had almost lost the battle, love starting to take hold of her heart. It was Lezard's fault that love had started to blossom, that she had come to care so much more for him in just one night. In refusing to force her to sleep with him, Lezard had ensnared her heart just a little, and only her crushing disappointments kept it from developing any further.

  Lenneth couldn't allow that love to become any stronger. She refused to love wholeheartedly, without an equal return of that emotion from her partner. Lezard was invested in their marriage, liking her enough to desire her. But desire as she was learning, could be and was separate from love. Lezard could enjoy her, could even like her and have sex with her, allowed the luxury of his heart remaining his own.

  It hadn't just been last night that had allowed Odin's enchantment to bespell her. Lenneth was coming to realize that for all her struggles, all her attempts to keep from submitting to the love spell, it had been affecting her. Almost from the start, Lenneth practically obsessed with thoughts of love, with the want of it, the need to have secured it in return for her own heart felt feelings. She had been in pain, speaking far more freely about love and feelings to Lezard, almost begging him to give her the chance to be loved by him. That was mortifying, and even more so given that he denied her time and time again.

  Heart sick, Lenneth wished she could hate Lezard. But it was impossible, Odin's enchantment softening her to the man who had kissed her awake. It wasn't just the spell, Lezard kept on proving himself different from what she had expected of a devoted follower of the Goddess Hel. Nice and attentive, kind rather than cruel, he encouraged and supported her. And except for a moment here and there, he did not push his more amorous intentions on her. Lezard actually wanted to wait for her to come to accept the sexual aspect of their relationship. That had been most surprising, and had been the final push to get infatuation going on Lenneth's part.

  She wouldn't let that infatuation stop her from her self appointed mission, Lenneth more determined than ever to return to the heavens. Maybe then, once restored to her divinity, she would be able to shake these feelings, maybe even forget about Lezard and her time with him. Her traitorous heart panged in protest, Lenneth refusing to dwell on what it would mean if she couldn't get over the infatuation.

  It didn't help matters that now that Lenneth was married to Lezard, they were expected to spend even more time together. She was conscious of what effects their continued association would have on her, and yet there was no easy way for her to deny those expectations. Or him, Lezard wanting and enjoying spending time with her. It was what led him to seek her out again and again, and had been the motivating force behind this morning's suggestion that they venture into the heart of the city. A pity for her, she wasn't yet enjoying this, not even the ride on Obsidian lifting her spirits.

  The horse himself was just as unhappy, shifting restlessly beneath her. The slow trot she had him maintaining did not suit Obsidian's nature at all, the stallion as free a sprit as Lenneth had once been. Obsidian had it easy, no love or the need for it weighing him down. She sighed then, the sound as deeply depressed as her thoughts were.

  "Lenneth?" Lezard and his mount had pulled up besides her, her husband wearing a concerned expression. "Is everything all right?"

  NOTHING was right, and it would continue to remain that way until one of two things happened. Lezard either came to truly love Lenneth, or she returned to the heavens, freeing herself of the enchantment. But she wouldn't voice those thoughts out loud. Not after she had exposed one too many vulnerabilities in openly asking for his love, for the chance of it.

  "I just don't like going this slow." Lenneth said, and it wasn't all a lie. She missed the thrill of racing through the streets, the exhilaration she and Obsidian had both shared. "And neither does Obsidian." Lenneth said, reaching forward to pat the snorting horse's neck.

  "It's too dangerous to go any faster!" Lezard reminded her, alarmed. Lenneth couldn't even muster up any amusement at his worry, or over the way he fretted over her safe keeping. It wasn't love behind his worries, Lezard motivated by obligation and kindness. For good or for bad, she belonged to him. She was his wife so long as she remained a mortal on Midgard. He would not want to see anything bad happen to her, never realizing how his kind regard was killing her inside.

  "The streets are crowded at this time of day." Lezard continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "Accidents can and have happened. You could be hurt, or hurt someone else with one careless misstep."

  She bristled in response. "I am an expert rider." Lenneth told him. "I have not only ridden steeds as wild if not wilder than Obsidian, I have fought from their back. I haven't been thrown from a horse in years, and I'm not about to start now
!"

  She saw the startled look in his eyes, Lezard blinking rapidly. But Lenneth didn't wait for a response, clicking her heels against Obsidian's body. The ebony colored stallion let out a delighted sound, going from trot to full out gallop, leaving Lezard and his horse behind. Lenneth heard Lezard call after her, but she didn't slow. She didn't so much as look back at him, trying to hold onto her anger. Trying to build out of it a stronger defense against Lezard and the feelings that were developing within her towards him.

  Love wasn't that easy to deter. The anger, which was more annoyed tantrum than any true rage, could only shield her heart briefly. And Obsidian could take her only so far, Lenneth perhaps able to outdistance Lezard but not the feelings that tortured her from the inside.

  It was all so unsettling, not to mention exhausting. These feelings were a drain on Lenneth's energies, sapping her strength and any enjoyment she might have taken from the ride. Obsidian however, had no such problem, the horse speeding through the busy streets. Crowded not only with people, but carriages and other horses, Lenneth and Obsidian were an unexpected and unwanted danger, the working class of Flenceburg hurrying out of their way.

  They didn't come close to actually hitting anyone. Lenneth had better control than that, guiding Obsidian past all obstacles. If Lezard had been near, he surely would have went white faced with terror, Lenneth seeming careless for all outward appearances. He'd most likely never notice the ease in which she avoided all, including the panicked child who darted out into Obsidian's path at the last possible second.

  The people were unharmed, but the things around them weren't always so lucky. A crate full of vegetables smashed against the ground. A chicken was startled, trying to take desperate flight as the shop clerk made a frantic lunge for it. People dropped their belongings as they lurched off the road, and several horses reared up in excitement at Obsidian's pass.