by Katrina Cope
I gaze into the distance to see large brown trunks reaching for the sky, and branching out of them are limbs covered with green foliage framed by a crystal-clear blue sky. These must be what they call trees. And from what I see, they are more beautiful than how they were described.
A soft rustling surrounds me as the wind whips my black hair away from my face. I breathe in deeply, taking in the fresh air. It smells beautiful, almost sweet, unless that is the pale-pink flowers I spot not too far away. Instantly, I know I am in love with Midgard. But a scream that pierces the air stops my daydreaming.
- CHAPTER THREE -
I spring to my feet, spin around, and run up the hill. As I reach the crest, I am devastated by the scene playing out before me. Massive amounts of men and women are fighting each other, and brave warriors are dying in all directions. I watch as the winged Valkyries fly above them and land in certain spots, fighting off the angels of death before reaping the bravest warriors that they can find. The soldiers that they reap will be another mark of honor against their name in aid to Valhalla and a proud contribution to the mighty warriors that will fight in Ragnarok. A twinge of envy pierces my heart as I watch them undertake this honor with their graceful wings.
A rumble rolls across the sky, and I think that perhaps Heimdall is searching for someone to come and retrieve me. I spring into action. I’m not going to miss out on this. It’s my chance to prove that the wingless Valkyries are worth more than what the winged Valkyries give them credit for. We have trained to fight and are spectacular warriors on the ground.
The soldiers push forward toward a massive wall, stepping over their fallen comrades, and the Valkyries gracefully swoop down one by one and land next to the fallen and reap their souls. The ones that they do not reap are left for the angels of death.
A group of soldiers hunkers down and aims a cannon at the wall, lights it, fires, and watches the explosion destroy the ramparts. Even from this distance, screams rumble across the plain. A Valkyrie swoops down to the wall to claim the souls of the brave soldiers before they pass away. As she lands, a dark-winged male swoops down and lands next to her. I’ve learned about them at the academy. These winged beings are the angels of death—the largest threat to our victory.
The Valkyrie unsheathes her sword and starts to fend off the angel of death, who is eager to grab these soldiers and take them back to the underworld. She slices at him, and he dodges with nimble feet, narrowly missing her blade. A dark shadow passes over the corner of my eye, and I turn to see another angel of death hovering over a wounded soldier that has not been spotted by a Valkyrie.
I pull an arrow from my quiver and nock it then draw it back and aim the tip at the angel of death. “Stand back. This one’s mine,” I call across the distance.
The angel of death halts. His black eyes peer through his strands of dark hair that have fallen over them. These angels have been our lifelong enemies, and we need to defend our future soldiers against them so we can train the soldiers to fight in the final war of Ragnarok. But as he peers at me, I am taken aback by how young his skin looks and how striking the lines are in his chiseled jaw. He flicks his head, and the hair moves out of his eyes. I think I see amusement in them.
He stands planted on the spot. His black leather pants cling to his legs, and a fitted black T-shirt hugs his chest, defining the muscles of his torso. My teachers told me a lot about the angels of death, but they never discussed how attractive they were. This is the first one I’ve seen face-to-face.
Trying to wipe the sight of his body out of my mind, I focus on his eyes, but he is rather distracting, and an amused smile gleams from his eyes.
“What do we have here?” His voice is so deep and smooth that it almost sounds like he is singing his words.
Slowly, I move toward him with my arrow remaining pointed at him. He keeps his hands raised, watching me as I continue forward, ignoring his question and taking my time assessing the situation.
“What are you?” he asks. He peers over my shoulders as though looking for something. “You’re not a Valkyrie. That’s for sure.”
Anger heats my face, but I bite my tongue. As much as I want to shoot my mouth off at him, I don’t want to give him any information he doesn’t already have.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”
My heart catches in my throat. I never thought a voice could sound so beautiful yet taunting at the same time. Within a few moments, he has found a way to get under my skin.
After weighing up my choices, I answer him without bothering to hide the spite in my voice. “I’m a Valkyrie. And if you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot this arrow through your arm.”
His smirk grows wider. “A Valkyrie? But you don’t have any wings.”
My eyes shoot daggers at him, and I shake the arrow slightly, pulling his attention back to it. “Remember, your arm?” I aim the arrow directly at his arm again.
“I was merely saying.” He shrugs. “No need to get so irritated over it. I’ve never seen the likes of you before. Every Valkyrie has wings.”
“No. Not every Valkyrie has wings. A large amount of us don’t.” So much for withholding information.
“Well, in that case, my name is Harut. It is nice to meet you.” His smile broadens. “Your name was?”
“I didn’t say.”
“No, you didn’t. But I was trying to make friends. We don’t have to be enemies, you know.”
Movement catches my eye, and I see a Valkyrie fighting off an angel of death over the potential warrior. I glance back at him. “Yeah, it really looks like we can be friends,” I say with sarcasm.
“Why can’t we be friends? You’re the first Valkyrie I’ve seen without wings. Where do they keep you if there are so many of you?” His intentions seem innocent enough, yet I can feel the rush of blood to my face again.
“That good, is it?” He cocks his head. “I guess they don’t treat you well, looking at your reaction.”
“They treat us like second-class citizens,” I snap.
“So how did you end up here?”
“I snuck past Heimdall and traveled Bifrost when he was distracted by some creature.”
“That’s daring.” He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m dying to prove that we are worth just as much as the winged Valkyries. I want to reap a soul for Valhalla–to prove the point. We train as warriors just as much as they do, but they never let us on a battlefield because we lack wings.”
He indicates the soldier, who is still groaning on the ground, only moments away from dying. “In that case, be my guest.”
I look at the soldier then back at the angel of death. “Really?”
He nods.
“Thank you.” I’m about to squat when a guilty rush hits me. He’s been kind to me, and I haven’t even told him my name. “I’m Kara.”
He smiles broadly again, showing many straight white teeth. “Nice to meet you.”
I feel a different kind of redness flowing to my face. Quickly, I dart my eyes down to the warrior dying on the ground and squat before him.
I haven’t done this before, although I believe that when we touch humans, this is what happens. My heart thumps rapidly as I reach down to touch the soldier’s skin. I hope this works. So much is riding on it.
- CHAPTER FOUR -
Bracing myself, I take a deep breath. This is breaking new territory for me and all the wingless Valkyries. After composing myself, I place my hand on his skin.
“What are you doing?” A voice booms over my shoulder.
I balk and turn to find Rota standing beside me. Her hands are on her hips, and she stands with her feet firmly planted. “You shouldn’t be here. What in Vigrid do you think you are doing?” Her gaze travels from my hands to the wounded soldier. “You should be back in Asgard, cleaning the Valhalla hall and getting it ready for us to celebrate, not standing here wasting time. They’re our soldiers to reap, not yours. You will never be a reaper.”
Harut open
s his arms. “Give her a chance. Everyone must be able to prove themselves at some point. Why should she go back and clean the halls?”
“Stay out of this, angel of death. This is none of your business.”
He takes a step toward her, and she pulls her sword from its sheath. The sound of sliding metal rings through the air. A breeze passes from the angel of death’s direction, and a putrid smell fills my nose. I breathe it out and try to search past him over the grassy plain, right up to the edge of the trees. It smells like bodies decaying. I frown. This war field is too new for any bodies to be decaying. A dead animal that I cannot see must be lying in that direction.
A high-pitched whistle screams, and my shoulders slump. Rota has called for the mistress. Shortly, I will face punishment. I have to make this worthwhile.
A groan distracts me from my imminent demise, and I gaze down. The man is so close to death, and I touch his skin. I have only seconds before they will pull me away. Looking deep into his eyes, I stroke his forehead with one hand, and with my other hand, I clasp his.
Hovering over him, I whisper into his ear, “I release you from your pain on Earth and send you to Valhalla to serve amongst the bravest of warriors.” These are the words that I have heard the winged Valkyries being taught to say as they reap their warrior. I hold his hand and stroke his forehead, but he remains in front of me, still laboring to breathe, his face distorted in pain.
The seconds tick by slowly, and I wonder when he will be sent. The uneventful moments turn into what seem like hours. Deep despair fills me as I watch him remaining in pain, his spirit not leaving, and I feel like I have betrayed him, all the wingless Valkyries, and myself. Not only that, I have also managed to look like a fool in front of the handsome angel of death and my nemesis.
“Oh, get out of the way.”
Roughly, I’m nudged aside, and I stumble on top of the soldier. He cries out in pain, making my despair dig deeper, twisting the horrible guilty knife into my heart farther. I couldn’t take away his pain as I promised him. It didn’t leave.
“You will never be able to reap the warriors,” Rota sneers. She kneels beside him and clasps his hand while holding his face, saying exactly the same words I just said to him.
I watch as peace fills his face, his ragged breathing stops, and he lies perfectly still. For him, deep happiness fills me, but at the same time, I want to tear at my enemy. I want to push and shove her. I want to take out all my aggression on her, all my disappointment in myself that I did not prove that the wingless Valkyries are just as valuable as the winged Valkyries. Deep embarrassment sits deep within my soul, causing these urges to be even stronger. I move toward her to play out the actions in my mind when two feet hit the ground right next to me.
My eyes dart up from the form and land on a face with terrifying blue eyes that pierce deep into my soul. Mistress. She is certainly not pleased. Horror whirls in my stomach, and I grit my teeth, knowing what is about to happen.
A hand, gentle but firm, lands on my shoulder, and strange sensations of warmth and cold fill me.
The mistress’s eyes dart to my side. “Angel of death, leave.”
I turn to realize that it is Harut’s hand on my shoulder.
He nods curtly at the mistress once then leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Don’t give up. You may find a way.” And with that, he pushes off the ground and takes to the sky. He flies with all the grace of a winged Valkyrie in the opposite direction, looking for another warrior that needs to be sent to the underworld.
“You shall return to Asgard now, Valkyrie.” The words are spiteful, and it takes all my willpower to face my mistress. “You will be on dragon-stall-cleaning duty for the rest of the month on top of your other cleaning duties.”
I groan, and my shoulders slump. As much as I love being around the majestic beasts, it is horrible cleaning up their muck–cleaning out the bones and the rotting flesh and the undigested remnants in their waste. I cast my eyes to the ground. “Yes, Mistress.” I see no point in arguing, because I would end up with worse duties.
“How did you even get here, Valkyrie?” Her eyes scrutinize me.
“I snuck past Heimdall when he was distracted by some creature.”
“What kind of creature?” It surprises me how everyone is immensely interested in this creature. Either that, or they are trying to find holes in my story.
“I don’t know. I’ve only seen it once before when I stumbled across a dragon’s nest, and it was stealing the eggs. It has a hideous look, and it almost seemed like it has some dragon in it because of its wings, yet at the same time, its body is fluffy and misshapen. It struck me that day, and when I saw it today, a deep burning sensation went through the scar that it gave me a couple of years ago when I chased it away from the rare dragon egg.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “You shouldn’t have been so foolish as to go into the wild dragon wastelands, anyway. Where is this scar it gave you?”
I pull my sleeve over my shoulder from the neckline and expose the scar that runs from my shoulder and down the top of my arm. She strokes her finger along it.
Her brow furrows as she studies the scar. “There doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary with it that would cause it to burn again after such a long time. Are you sure you didn’t just imagine it?”
“That would not be possible. The burning was very intense. And it was right here.” I indicated the point on the scar. “Like the scar had just been caused again. There is no way that I could have imagined that pain.” I am almost insulted by her suggestion.
Her shoulders stiffen, and she tilts her chin upward. “You must tell me if you see this creature again. We cannot have this creature going through Asgard.”
After her comment that I might have imagined it, I wasn’t in the mood to share any information. But to keep up appearances, I nod. “Yes, mistress.” Although deep inside, I can feel the rebellion rising. I would rather learn what this creature is myself than let her find out this information. I will prove our worth as wingless Valkyries.
The rainbow colors of Bifrost open and point down to where we are. I step into its rainbow and am sucked up into the colors before landing flat on my feet in the tower with Heimdall. His scowl is the first thing I see as he regards me with distaste, and I flinch. I am in for it now.
- CHAPTER FIVE -
“Heimdall.” Nervousness seeps through my voice. “So nice to see you.” I smile broadly, showing off as many teeth as possible.
His scowl deepens, and he steps closer to me, his bulky form towering over me. I am considered average size, and I cannot compare to his bulk. I lean back slightly to look into his eyes, and I try to hold my smile, but it slowly fades from my face.
“How dare you sneak past me, Valkyrie. You have violated many rules of Asgard. You are not allowed to pass these borders without permission or without being accompanied by a winged Valkyrie.” He grabs me roughly by the shoulder and turns me toward the bridge, stomping that way. “You are coming with me to visit Odin.”
My hands turn clammy, and I lose all feeling in my face. I am definitely in for it now. Though I’d thought cleaning out the dragon stalls for a month was a bad enough punishment, this is worse. My primary goal is to become a reaper and a proud warrior for Asgard and to impress Odin, for myself and the other wingless Valkyries, but my idea is quickly flowing down the sewer.
The walk across Bifrost couldn’t go any faster. Each step seems to be a giant leap bringing me closer to the palace gates. We reach the steps and walk up. My heart thumps against my rib cage, wanting to abandon this sinking ship as I am dragged toward the palace. I really don’t need this kind of attention from Odin. Heimdall hauls me across the marble floors, past the towering marble walls and sculptures, and pauses in front of the throne. Odin is sitting on his throne, his cloak draping over his shoulders and tumbling down his back. He glares at me with his one eye, the other covered in a patch from the time he traded it for wisdom. In a sick sense, I
am glad that he can only stare at me with one eye. It is intimidating enough. No words are needed from Heimdall.
“What do we have here?” Odin’s eye narrows on me. It is evident that he knew instantly by the way I am being handled and dragged by the gatekeeper that I have caused mischief.
Heimdall pushes me closer to Odin. I feel exposed with nowhere to hide. “This one has defied the laws and snuck behind my back, leaving Asgard without permission. I do not know why you have created these Valkyries without wings. They are no use to us and cause nothing but trouble.”
Odin’s glare is so intense that I fold to my knees, only sparing a glance through my eyelashes with my chin tilted. “Forgive me, great Odin. I was merely trying to prove my worth on the battlefield. I hope that I have a higher purpose than cleaning halls and dragon pens.”
Odin stands, clasping his staff in one hand, and towers over me when he approaches. “Why? Why do you feel like you need to be more? All places are of high importance. And your place and your kind were brought here to serve the winged Valkyries and the gods–to make their living smoother and give them more time to fulfill their duty.”
“Yes, great Odin.” I know that I should leave it here, but I can’t help myself. “I understand, but I would like to be more than just an ordinary slave.” When his scowl deepens, I say quickly, “I think that we would be of great service to you.”
“Could you reap any?” he asks while pulling his shoulders back, giving him a mightier appearance.
I drop my gaze to the floor and shake my head. “No. I could not.”
“Your kind has not been given the talent to reap the souls for Valhalla.”
