by T S Paul
“Like a stalker. You need to finish your sentences. What’s the job?” I’m not stupid. In college, for extra credit I’d read several books by a man named Joseph Campbell. I knew who Wotan or Odin was. The crows were a dead giveaway. It surprised me to see him up on a roof, talking to a doomed woman though. His kind were more battlefield friendly than hospitals.
With a gleam in one eye that I might have imagined, Odin smiled first, then laughed. “You’re a smart one, Gen. Much smarter than some give you credit. Those who suffer in silence are just as much warriors as those upon the battlefield. Their opponents are just different.”
I motioned to him with my hand. “And?”
“And you’re a killer. A good one. More fanciful than your latest one, at least. Justice is what you drives you, and justice is what you seek.” Odin reached up and stroked one of the crows with his free hand. “What do you know of Valkyries?”
“They were the choosers of the slain. Spirit women, who according to Norse mythology rode through the sky pulling warriors off the battlefield,” I replied to him.
“Mmm, close. You humans all get it so wrong. I blame the priests and that Snorri fellow. Write down the truth or not at all,” Odin snorted. “At least the words carried through the years. Valkyries are my lawgivers and lifetakers. It is their job to dispense my justice to those who get away with murder.”
Looking away from the God, I cast my eyes skyward. Were they coming for me?
“Not everything is black and white, Gen. Like the lawmen down there, my justice must be fair. The Valkyrie Wing hunts down those that fall through the cracks of human justice and deliver them to me. It’s what they’ve done for millennia. The job I’m offering you is to join us. Join the Wing of Justice and help us,” Odin explained as he peeked over the edge of the roof at all the cars.
For a moment I froze. Odin, the Lord of Asgard, father of Thor, was offering me a job.
“What’s the catch?” I asked him. Visions of working as some kind of nurse in a gigantic hospital in the sky flashed in my mind.
The God was silent. He could only stare at me for what seemed like a very long moment. Finally, he spoke. “There are rules… Among the Gods, there are rules. I am unable to explain certain things relating to your future or the future of the world around us in any sort of detail. Your personal hunt for justice will be granted. The Wing will give you the tools to accomplish all of your desires in this quest if you chose to help us.”
“And if I say no to this wonderful opportunity you are offering?”
Odin’s face took on a pale cast, the shadows from the moon making it look like a skull. “Then the police and security men get you.”
Now it was my turn to pale. “So life and death. Join you or die.”
“They will try and capture you,” Odin stated. “But now that you’ve shot at them, they will hit the door with all guns blazing. Not many places to hide up here. You might fare better if you jump for it. Those trees down below may break your fall.”
My eyes flicked to the door and then back at Odin. I frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t sell vacuum cleaners door to door? You’d be good at it. ‘If you don’t buy this machine the dust and the dirt will overwhelm you.’ I can see it now, the crows could pre-crap the houses for you. So many choices here aren’t there. I don’t want to die, so I guess your job offer it is, for two hundred, Bob.”
“Who is this Bob?” Odin asked me with a frown.
Now it was my time to snort. Sarcastically I replied. “Not living in the real world, are you. Valhalla sounds exciting already, if there’s no television.”
“I would take that as a yes but as I said, there are rules. Do you Genevieve Vogel choose the life of a Valkyrie of your own free will and resolve? Do you give up the mortal coil as you know it and become a seeker of justice and a taker of souls?” Odin’s voice was as deep and mournful as the grave.
“I do,” I answered him.
Muttering to myself just under my breath, I made a single comment. “Beats prison.”
“I heard that.” Odin waved his hand at the door. “See you on the other side.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that, one of his eyes flashed, blinding me. Rubbing it to see, I missed the door opening in front of me.
“Drop the weapon!” A voice shouted suddenly.
Raising my hands, the gun still clenched in one, I heard multiple shots going off close to me.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
Several sharp pains shot through me even as I thought to myself. Other side of what?
My world faded to black.
Fifteen
Dead!
I was dead!
The very moment I opened my eyes, it hit me. The freaking police had shot me even as I raised my hands, and it was Odin’s damn fault.
Running my hands over my body, I checked for holes I wasn’t born with. Not realizing I was on a bier, I leaned to one side and fell off. “Sonofabitch!”
Hitting the floor with a loud thump, I started cursing up a storm. I might be young, but I’d had plenty of exposure to derogatory language and curse words. Grandfather was a hoot when he banged his hand in the garage.
“Who in the hell leaves someone lying four feet off the ground on a narrow ass table? I swear to God I’m going to beat him senseless! See you on the other side my ass,” I grumbled as I climbed to my feet. Gripping my side, I moaned in agony, “...the hell does it hurt this bad?”
“Dying will do that to you. Falling will, as well.” A man appeared in the doorway of the room I was in.
Wincing, I looked up at him. “You’re a tall one. Who the hell are you, and where’s Odin?”
“The boss is doing what he always does, taking care of business elsewhere. My name is Hermod and I’m to be your teacher,” Hermod replied.
“Seriously Herman, where’s the old guy? I’ve got a bone to pick with him about those FBI guys he turned loose on me. Getting shot sucks!” I yelled.
“My name is Hermod. And as I’ve already told you, Odin is busy. If you have a complaint you can tell me about it.” Placing one hand on his hip, he glared at me.
“Look like a teapot much there, Herbie? Just tell Odin I’ve got a bone to pick with him about a roof and some cops.” Looking around me for the first time, I could see I was in some sort of cave. “Where the hell are we?”
“Hel has nothing to do with us. As to our location, we’re in one our Lord’s hunting camps. Think of this as your new home.” Hermod swept his arm out.
I snorted. “Hmm. We’ll see about that. I’ve lived in some holes in my life, but not literally, like this.”
Hermod shook his head while muttering something to himself. All I caught was, “...bad idea all around. I told him so.”
“You say something, Herman? Any other rooms in this place?” Approaching him, I tried to peek into the next room.
“Do you mind? We need to discuss your new role here before you run willy-nilly all over the place,” Hermod exclaimed as he stepped in front of the open doorway. “Being a Valkyrie is a serious job. There is quite a bit of training involved.”
“What sort of training? I’ve got the killing part down pretty well already.” I gave him a cross look.
“You and your new sisters are the soul of the Wing. It’s your job to scour the world, bringing the justice of the sword to those miscreants who’ve escaped human justice,” Hermod intoned like he was preaching a sermon to the masses. “There is much to learn.”
“I get a sword? What kind? Is it like Captain Blood’s?” I hadn’t been listening to what he was saying until he mentioned the sword. Old movies were a thing with me, especially the ones before the motion picture code. They still had the violence and gore to them that later movies lacked. Captain Blood was a classic. Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone whacking each other with swords, what wasn’t to like about that! A sequel to the film, ‘Son of Captain Blood’ came out just a couple of years ago. It made me laugh that Flynn’s actual son wa
s one of the stars. Sometimes the movie folks got it right.
“Captain...Blood? Is that the name of a Vampire?” Hermod asked, caught off guard by the non-sequitur. Shaking his head, he gave me a glare. “As I was saying, I will be your teacher for all of these things and more. It’s Odin’s will that…” Hermod trailed off when he noticed I was shaking my head at him. “What is it now?”
“Why are you training me to kill anyway? That part I have down, Homey. Using a sword will add a bit of spice to things, but I’m pretty sure I can handle it. I did take self-defense in school, after all,” I told him.
“Because I say so. It’s my job to train and you will be trained if it kills me,” Hermod growled. “This defiance will not be allowed. My name is Hermod!”
Cocking my head to one side, I gave him my own stare. It’d worked for almost every doctor and patient in my career, and it would work for Herbie as well. “Uh, huh. Tell me again who it was that recruited me for this job. The big guy told me he’d been watching me my whole life and that I was the perfect candidate. Just try and fire me, Herbie.”
“Hermod! My. Name. Is. Hermod!” Hermod shouted and stamped.
So easy. “Sure thing, Harriet. Keep on stomping like a little girl and see how that works for you,” I replied.
We dickered and fought for several weeks like this. Eventually Herman got around to teaching me the do’s and don’ts of Valkyrie life. They were pretty simple, so simple I had trouble believing they needed a trainer.
Do hunt down evil and the corrupt, don’t kill the innocent. There was other stuff, but to be truthful I wasn’t listening past that point. I begged for my sword almost the entire time.
“You aren’t ready yet. This isn’t some skald where the hero wins every time. This is important!” Hermod exclaimed. We were practicing knife fighting and I already had an advantage. Chucking my knife as hard as I could I threw it at his chest.
Thunk!
Bouncing off his chest like a tennis ball, the blunt knife flew back at me like a boomerang. I ducked to avoid it and slid toward Hermod, pulling out my other weapon even as I hit the ground.
“Idiot girl, you just threw your weapon away! Why, why, why, did I ever consent to train such a moron?” Hermod threw up his hands in disgust.
“Don’t call me stupid, stupid. Look down,” I yelled. My backup weapon was right up against his family jewels, if he had any. It was my thought he was a eunuch as much as he ignored my assets.
Looking down, Hermod saw the knife. “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while. You’re learning.”
Knife fighting led to hand to hand, which finally led to the basics of sword fighting.
“What the hell is this thing Hymie?” I cried as I waved a large wooden sword under his nose. When Hermod first handed it to me, I was so excited. But then reality set in.
“Practice sword. It’s standard for beginners of which you are,” Hermod explained. “Everyone starts out this way, even you.”
“Sword my ass! I’ve waited all freaking year for this and now I get termite food? Hercules, you’re getting on my nerves here!” I yelled at him again.
“How many times do I have to say it? My name is Hermod.” Seeing my expression, he looked up at the cave ceiling for a moment. “Forget it. We’ve only been here for a month or so in real world time. Consider this to be a limbo of sorts. Time out, if you’re a sports fan.”
I frowned. “I thought you were a Viking warrior or something, not one of those insane sport fans.”
“The Vikings are a fine team,” Hermod commented as he raised his own practice sword. “Now get into position.”
“If you say so. I’m from North Carolina remember? Tar Heels!” I swung my sword in an arc, like I’d seen in all the swashbuckling movies I watched.
A shield materialized on Hermod’s arm which he used to slam my sword out of my hand. My mouth dropped open in surprise. “How did you do that?”
“Magick. As a Valkyrie you are granted certain powers by the Gods,” he said as he held up the buckler strapped to his arm. “This is but one advantage you have.”
Hermod had my complete attention now. “You should have started with that, Harvard. I’ve never been a flower and candy sort of girl. Give me a gun or a knife.”
“This is called a buckler. It’s used with a lighter sword or a rapier, like the one your pirate uses. Valkyries are imbued with inner strength more powerful than most standard humans and paranormals possess. Because of this, we can use heavier weapons longer and faster. Many of your sisters in battle use this for hand protection. I’ll demonstrate. Attack me,” Hermod made a come-hither motion.
Swinging my sword, I attacked with one of the fighting moves he’d already taught me. Hermod’s shielded hand came up in a blocking maneuver, parrying my attack even as his sword came around in a strike of his own. “Ouch! You’ve got to show me that again Hamish.”
For the next week we fought our way through the entire list of buckler versus sword routines. Binding was my favorite. That was the art, and it was a real art, of trapping your opponent against their body even as you struck. Other techniques included deflecting another’s sword or just using the buckler like a boxing glove and knocking them unconscious.
“Was I wrong about her?” Odin asked.
Hermod looked away from the newest trainee and up at his boss and mentor. “No, but I still have objections. This training is too short. The others spent lifetimes honing their skills in battle. She hasn’t even scratched the surface of that.”
“Look where it got the others. They are too stoic, too set in their ways to adapt to this modern world. Genevieve is the perfect solution to what is coming,” Odin replied. Thinking of the future that the Norns had warned him about sent chills down even his back. There would be a need for warriors such as Gen in the near future. She just needed to survive to reach it. “Give her one of the blades and see how she reacts. They are the ultimate test, after all.”
Hermod sighed. “As you command. But this can only end badly.”
“Better than the alternative. Trust me on that,” the God replied.
“Genevieve, attend me please,” Hermod said. There was a tightly wrapped package clutched firmly in his hand.
I’d moved on from sword work back to daggers and knives. Incorporating them into my fighting technique took a bit of practice, but now that I understood my powers just a bit better, it was so much easier to do things. Who knew it was possible for my enhanced body to fight with one hand, block with the other, and still be able to sling darts or knives if needed? This job was looking to be way more badass than Odin made it out to be originally.
“Against my better judgement, Odin has decided to give you this.” Hermod laid the package upon the bier I arrived on. “Valkyries spend years acclimating to their swords. Forged from metal found deep in the mines of Svartalfheim, this sword has been imbued with the soul of a fallen warrior. Only a true Valkyrie can wield her. Eitri, high blacksmith and protector of secrets, has decreed this.”
An old phrase or song came to my mind. I only have eyes for you. That was all I could think of as I stared at the package. Looking to the warrior beside me, I called him by his true name. “Hermod, may I?”
The Valkyrie leader smiled suddenly. “Finally the proper name. Please, she is to be yours. In order to bond properly, you must be the first to touch her.”
My hands trembled just a bit as I unwrapped the sword. “She’s beautiful.”
Long as my arm, the sword was finely crafted of dwarven steel. Inlay work rimmed with silver ran the length of the blade itself. The guard was an amalgamation of woods and metals that seemed to shift and change each time it was turned. An ice-blue gem sat upon the pommel.
Careful to not touch the blade, Hermod pointed out a few things. “The gem is of Asgard. Only by gripping the sword are you able to communicate with me through the aether. In cases of dire emergency, and I do mean dire, you may be able to access the rainbow bridge with it. But o
nly if Heimdal grants you access. Don’t count on that happening. He’s only saved one member of the Wing in all of our long history. Once in your hand, the grip will not fail you. Made from the skin of Saehrimnir it will stick to your hand unless you release it willingly.”
“Saehri...himmer?” I asked, my tongue stumbling over the strange name.
Hermod laughed. “Old Norse is hard on the tongue. Saehrimnir is the name of the wild boar that is fed to Odin’s soldiers each day. You might call him an immortal meal. Each and all in their proper place. That is how Asgard works. Don’t concern yourself with it. The Wing spends very little time there. If at all. Earth is more our realm.”
Clutching the new sword in my hand, I practiced a few moves. While she looked heavy, in my hands she was perfectly balanced. This was going to work. “Does she have a name?”
“Her original name isn’t spoken. She gave up the afterlife to help her sisters of the future. What you call her will be her name for the next life, so choose wisely. You are both bound to each other now,” Hermod explained.
The inlay work seemed to speak to me. Thoughts of future battles as well as a future together pricked at my mind. One stray thought penetrated all the others, sparking a giggle from me that resonated through the blade. I knew the perfect name that would work with my sense of humor and that of the job I was being presented with. “I’ve got it. Thanks, Henry.”
“It’s a disgrace I tell you, I warned you this would happen! She’s making a mockery of our entire order,” Hermod complained to Odin. “This is all your fault.”
“There you go forgetting yourself again, Herman,” Odin said with a smile.
Hermod sighed. “Not you too? Why is my life so hard?”
Odin’s whole body shook as his belly laugh expanded to the rest of him. “I blame your mother, but we agreed to not discuss that less Freya whack us both, remember? It will all work itself out, you’ll see. Have you given her the assignment yet?”
