Helgi turned back to the monstrosities of war. While Sigrun had been at his side, the awful sounds of the dying and wounded had bled away until nothing but the vision of Sigrun and her calming presence filled his world. Now that she was gone, the noise returned and it assaulted him like it hadn’t previously.
His jaw was set on edge and he wished Sigrun was still there beside him. Instead, her father appeared.
Hogni looked crazed as he rushed at Helgi. Blood streaked the man’s face and hair. Helgi had no idea if it was the man’s own blood of that of his victims. Hogni starred him down and Helgi clenched his jaw in defiance. He would not present as lacking in front of this man, the one who should become his father in law. Yet, here he was battling against Hogni.
Helgi rushed forward and bashed down his sword against Hogni’s shield. The force caused Sigrun’s father to stagger underneath him and Helgi took advantage of that. Pulling his weapon back, he sliced crossways and managed to open the belly of Hogni. The steam of innards and blood hit the ground and Helgi felt ill for a moment. It had all happened so quickly that he couldn’t believe the man was dead already. Sigrun had warned Helgi that her father was not a great warrior. Still, Hogni had not even had a chance to counterattack.
Helgi turned away, hoping Sigrun had not seen the death of her father at the hands of her lover. He had little time to fret about Hogni’s death, though, as Granmar was finally there, his sons on either side.
Helgi drew in a breath, letting it go slowly as he figured out how to attack the group. Sinfjotli stepped up level with him and Helgi felt the strength of his brother. They stood tall, ready to conquer Granmar, ready to slaughter him.
Even with Granmar and his three sons, Helgi and his brother quickly gained the upper hand. When members of Helgi’s army close by realised the conflict between the armies’ leaders, many stepped up, ready to help Helgi in his plight.
Helgi was tempted to step aside, to allow his army to take out the opposition. However, when he saw Sigrun approaching, he threw himself back into the fray.
Slashing his sword left and right, Helgi didn’t think, he simply fought his way through. He didn’t know who he was hitting, or killing. His sword sliced through men, of Granmar’s army or his own, he didn’t know half the time. Instead, his one grim mission was to bring down the men who wanted Sigrun for their own gain.
“You will not have Sigrun!” Helgi roared as she saw Hothbrodd in the fray. The man rushed forward, his father close behind and Helgi knew this was the moment that would decide his fate.
Hothbrodd rushed forward, his sword held high over his head and his face red with fury. Helgi quickly pushed his shield high. The clatter of the sword as it hit rang in his ears and he staggered under the weight of it. Gnashing his teeth, he strained against his shield, his shoulder rammed tight as he tried to push Hothbrodd back.
When he suddenly lurched forward, he knew the tides had turned, that somehow Hothbrodd was no longer there.
Instead, his father, Granmar, had taken his place. The older man stood at the ready, his battle axe held firmly as he jostled from foot to foot, awaiting Helgi’s response.
While concentrating on Granmar, from the corner of his eye, Helgi could see Sigrun approaching. In the moment, he wanted to believe that she was here for him, that she would grant him an honourable death and they would sup in Valhalla tonight. However, when he saw her kneeling in the mud, he knew she was merely selecting someone else.
Granmar charged at him and Helgi instinctively waited until the last moment before stepping aside. His feet were sure, even in the muck of blood beneath them. As Granmar turned, Helgi thrust his sword upwards and struck Granmar.
Sigrun appeared, kneeling over the man and helping Granmar on his way to Valhalla.
Helgi stuck his sword into the ground and sagged down onto the pommel. A hand touched his shoulder and Helgi raised his head only high enough to nod at his brother. His body felt heavy, drained. It always happened this way, after a war. The rush of the battle was gone, drained out in one swift moment until his limbs felt like boulders hanging from his body.
“Hothbrodd,” Sigrun whispered and Helgi found the strength to raise his head once more. The Valkyrie knelt in the muck of the battleground and her voice appeared to have roused the man she to which she was betrothed.
He tried to speak but only the crack of a cough was heard. Hothbrodd rolled his head back once more.
Sigrun slapped his face to awaken him once more. “Listen to me!” she hissed at him.
His eyes focused but he remained with his head lolled to one side. “What?”
Helgi had to struggle to hear the word.
“Your family is dead,” Sigrun said to Hothbrodd. “Never will your hands touch me. You will be dead shortly. Then, the war ravens will fly down and gorge on your eyes and feast on your innards.” Sigrun blew gently on the man’s face and his life force finally left him. “And, this is the very last time I shall think of you.”
Chapter 8: SIGRUN
“Do you swear allegiance?” Sigrun stood tall although her insides felt like a quivering mess. Dag stood before her, his face downturned. He was her brother, the one that was always kind to her.
Bragi was her brother also but she did not mourn his death. She had seen his body, slumped in the field behind her. His throat had been slit and his clothing was stained bright red. Sigrun’s only acknowledgement of his demise was when she paused before stepping over his corpse.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love Bragi, she did in her own way. He had been kind when they were children. However, he had grown into a man that she found hard to love. He was harsh to her, trying to place her in a position lower than she should be placed. For some reason, Bragi and her father never quite seemed to realise she was a Valkyrie and should be treated as someone to be feared.
Did they not realise she could take their lives away as simply as breathing?
Obviously not, otherwise they wouldn’t have looked so surprised when she greeted them on the field.
Now, she had Dag to deal with. He was all that was left of her family now, besides her mother. But she wasn’t concerned with her loyalty.
Dag raised his eyes and stared at her. She could see his fear along with something else. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it. Perhaps it was the way his shoulders lifted up tightly towards his ears or his clenched fists by his sides. Whatever it was, it made Sigrun think that Dag was hiding something. Although he maintained eye contact as he tilted his head upwards.
“I swear my allegiance to Helgi,” Dag said. His words were quiet, humble. Sigrun smiled at her brother, proud of him for choosing their side. Not that he had much choice in the matter, if he chose otherwise, Sigrun would have to kill him. But she didn’t want to do that, she wanted her brother to live, to thrive alongside herself.
She reached out, her hands eager to clasp his shoulders. As she hugged him, she felt the tension still there even though he had relaxed his shoulders somewhat after speaking his oath.
“I am so thankful you have done this, Dag,” Sigrun whispered into her brother’s ear and felt the hot wetness of her own tears running down her face and mingling in her hair.
Sigrun pulled away and Helgi stepped up beside her, ready to embrace Dag as well. Clapping his hand down on Dag’s shoulder, Helgi pulled him towards himself, dragging him into a fierce bear hug. Sigrun could see Dag’s eyes widen in surprise.
Sigrun looked out over the crowd. Helgi’s army was vast even though many had lost their lives during today’s battle. Some were covered in blood, others had bandages and the bloom of dark bruises. Still, a lot of them smiled back at her.
“Since Dag has aligned himself with myself and Sigrun,” Helgi said, his voice booming out across the sea of people. “It is time to organise a wedding!”
Sigrun turned, her smile wide as she reached over and embraced Helgi.
Chapter 9: DAG
The moon slid behind the thickening clouds and the world a
round him was sheathed in darkness. Dag whipped his head from side to side as everything dissipated from view.
“Where are you?” he shouted into the gloom. His teeth chattering as he spoke and it made his words hesitate like he was not sure of what he was saying. Dag hated himself for being so afraid of the encroaching darkness.
“I am here!” A voice called out. It drifted in from far away and Dag took a deep breath before plummeting into the hidden world.
“No, I am over here,” another voice said, far off to the other side of him and Dag turned in response. The first call had been from his father, the second from his brother, Bragi.
Dag was torn as to which direction to head in. He was so desperate to see his father once more, to be able to talk to him of things from their past, of the army they both cherished. Yet, his brother also beckoned and Dag missed him just as much.
He ached inside from their loss and as he remembered it, his stomach knotted together with his fear of the dark until it was too much to bear. Leaning over, he clutched at his sides in agony.
“Where are you?” he roared once more in an effort to distract himself from the pain. “Why won’t you return?”
“Because we are dead,” the voices responded.
The blinding light of a roaring fire assaulted his vision as Dag opened his eyes from the horrible nightmare. Sitting upright in bed, he noticed that he clutched at his sides, that the pain of their loss was still churning within him.
“Are you alright?” a small voice asked. Looking over, he could see his sister across the firepit from him.
“Yes, I am fine, Sigrun,” Dag responded. “It was just a dream.”
“I have dreams like that, too, sometimes” she replied as Dag pulled himself from the sleeping platform. He was sharing the house with his sister and he found the quarters cramped even though there were less of them here than there was when he lived with his parents. The thought caused him more pain and he ducked his head rather than admit it to Sigrun.
“Surely you don’t,” he said as anger bit at his sentiment. “After all, you were happy to allow our family to be slaughtered.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself and he looked sheepishly at his sister.
“I had no choice,” Sigrun replied quietly. She was also out of bed now and was starting the makings for their morning tea. Dag could smell the distinct aroma of herbs as she broke them into the cauldron. Helgi was still asleep, his body sprawled out across the sleeping platform like he owned every last piece of it. Dag sneered at the arrogance that was present even while he slumbered. Looking at his sister, he noticed she was already observing him. She glanced quickly to Helgi and then back at him again. “Would you rather they had lived and I married Hothbrodd?”
“I suppose not,” Dag countered. Hothbrodd was a brute and the pairing would not have suited his sister, of that he agreed. “But surely there was some other way around the marriage? You didn’t even try to sort it out.”
“Granmar wouldn’t allow it. He was determined to see a union between our father’s lands and his. It was never about me or his son.” His sister sighed as she stirred the cauldron, apparently lost in thought for a moment. “Those lands are yours now.”
“Yes, they are,” Dag replied, the words dry in his mouth. The reason he stayed here with his sister was because he couldn’t bear the thought of returning home, of having to witness his mother’s grief. “I suppose you want me to go home, to rule in his steed?”
He looked at Sigrun, hoping she would insist he returned home. Being ordered and having no choice in the matter was likely the only way he would ever venture home again. Yet, what was the point of his family’s suffering if he never ruled in their place?
“You don’t have to do anything, Dag,’ Sigrun replied. She stepped away from the fire and walked towards him. “I know it must be hard on you and you are welcome to stay here as long as you like. You are my brother and I love you. I would never turn you away, not after everything you have sacrificed.”
Chapter 10: SIGRUN
“Remember our last wedding, dear Helgi?” Sigrun looked out over the room and smiled lazily at all who attended. She had had so much mead that her head was swimming and she felt affection for everyone present.
“I do, my love,” Helgi replied with a nod of his head. “Have I told you about it?” He had turned and was facing his brother when he said this. Sigrun reached over and took Helgi’s hand, her fingers tracing a scar on his wrist.
“You speak of this past life like it really happened,” Sinfjotli said as he selected food from a platter. “Surely, you are just imagining things?”
“Of course not,” Sigrun replied. She was irritated that Sinfjotli didn’t believe his brother. “You believe that I am a Valkyrie, do you not?”
“Of that, I am certain,” the man replied, tipping his drinking horn at her. “You have shown yourself on the battlefield when you’ve met with Helgi on more than one occasion.”
“Then, how is that any different to believing that we have lived before?”
“It just seems so fanciful.”
“More fanciful than having me appear from the skies during battle and selecting who lives and dies? More fanciful than supping every night with the All-Father?”
Sinfjotli took a long sip of his drink. “I suppose, when you put it like that…” he eventually replied.
“Tell me about your previous lives,” Dag butted in. “Did you have a brother such as I?”
Sigrun laughed. “No, you are one of a kind. I had a father, though, who I loved very much. Sometimes I wonder how he fared after I died.”
The mood dropped and Sigrun pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. What had her dear father done? Closing her eyes, a wash of grief overtook her and suddenly she wanted anything but to be remembering her past life.
A warm hand reached up and cupped her chin. She nestled into it, knowing it was Helgi and remembered his past life, the man he once was, the man she loved enough that she took her own life rather than live in a world without him. Having him here with her again made the anguish worth it, she realised. Opening her eyes, she smiled across at Helgi and hoped the welling tears wouldn’t overflow.
“Remember how we first met?” Sigrun asked with a waver in her voice. “How I had to name you and send you on a quest for a sword before we could be together?”
Helgi cocked his head to one side, as though he couldn’t quite recall the events. It was sometimes hard for him to remember all of the details and Sigrun waited patiently.
“Why, yes,” he finally said. “I do remember that sword. I wonder what ever has become of it?”
“Did you have it at the holmgang with Alfr?” Sigrun asked. She noted that while Sinfjotli and Dag were interested in the conversation, they appeared to be confused about what they were saying. “Helgi was involved with a conflict involving Alfr of Norway after he killed Alfr’s father. However, thanks to an accidental curse placed on Helgi by his brother, Hedinn, he was doomed to fail in the combat.”
“I do think it was there,” Helgi replied. “We had daggers as our weapons of choice during the holmgang but I never travelled without that sword you gave me.”
“Was it a magical weapon?” Dag asked, leaning in towards them. “Since Sigrun gave it to you.”
“She was called Svafa at the time,” Helgi said and Sigrun watched as a dart of anger bolted across Dag’s face. It smoothed so quickly, though, that she was unsure if she had imagined it or not. “And, yes, the sword was magical. It had the image of a snake carved into the blade and runes running the length of the hilt.”
“I wanted to keep Helgi safe,” Sigrun offered. “So, this sword was a means of doing that. The runes contained magic that kept him out of the way of harm while he held it.”
“Why didn’t you choose if as your weapon during the holmgang, then?” Sinfjotli asked.
Helgi tilted his head once more while he struggled to remember. “Alf
r refused to allow it. He had heard that it was a gift from Svafa and didn’t want me to have the added protection. I had no choice but to agree with him or look like I was putting more favour onto my side than he had.”
“Perhaps you will find it again,” Dag said. “It seems like the sword is destined to be owned by you.”
“Indeed,” Helgi replied. “Perhaps, now that we are married, I can go on a quest to find it.”
Chapter 11: HELGI
The sun was setting now, dropping down over the water with a golden glow that turned everything into a vision of beauty. Although, his new wife didn’t need any help. Even in the midst of battle, with mud flying and blood splattering across the landscape, she was still the most beautiful woman in the world.
Helgi smiled over at Sigrun, his hand reaching out to clasp her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he kissed her gently, his gaze never leaving her own. “I am the happiest man to ever live.”
“You are as happy as the last time we wed,” Sigrun replied. Her eyes were dark with passion even though she smiled through her words. “I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Helgi felt a lump forming in this throat as she spoke. He, too, could remember their first wedding. It was strange to think he had lived before, that their lives were so important as to be duplicated and replicated once more. Helgi wondered what would happen after he finally died. Would he be born once more to find Sigrun time and time again?
He hoped so.
Sigrun leaned in, her lips so close to his ear that he could feel her warm breath tickling at his neck. “I want you to ravish me.”
The words were like a lightning bolt through his body. Sigrun’s hand was still in his and he turned it over so the palm faced upwards. He kissed her wrist, feeling her life force pulsing close under her skin. Looking up, he saw that Sigrun now had her eyes closed.
Curse of the Valkyries Page 4
