The Unnamed Warrior

by Rachel Tsoumbakos

  Helgi watched Svafa closely but she refused to look at him when she spoke. “Mist, I feel a connection to this one, I cannot explain it but I know I need to protect him from the spoils of war.”

  Helgi swallowed hard. So, she felt the same way he did. Suddenly, Helgi felt stronger, like he was filled with a hidden power that had only presented itself with his new name. He stretched himself up and squared his shoulders in the way he had seen Svafa do just moments earlier.

  “I do not need your sword, Svafa. I ask for your hand instead.”

  He watched as Svafa’s eyes opened wide with obvious surprise and she sucked in a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible,” she said, her voice tiny. “I am a Valkyrie, I do not marry.”

  But, somehow, Helgi knew that she was lying.

  Chapter 7: HELGI

  “Regardless of whether you want a name gift or not, you are worthy of one,” Svafa said. “So, listen well.”

  Svafa then spoke the following words to Helgi.

  “Swords I know lying in Sigarsholm, fewer by four than five times ten: one of them is of all the best, of shields the bale, with gold adorned.

  “A ring is on the hilt, courage in the midst, in the point terror for his use who owns it: along the edge, a blood-stained serpent lies, and on the guard, the serpent casts its tail.”[3]

  Without another word, Svafa jumped onto her horse, pulled back the reins of her steed and turned the beast. Her sisters followed. The clouds swirled down on them as they dug their heels into their animals’ flanks and encouraged them to a gallop.

  Before Helgi could object, they were gone. He stood, staring at the spot where Svafa and her sisters once were and felt loneliness descend. Yes, it was Svafa that made him feel complete, he realised. She was the one which would bring him salvation. It was her that he needed to see again in order to feel whole once more.

  Eventually, he turned and trudged slowly homeward.

  Before Helgi could even consider a quest to retrieve the sword Svafa had spoken of, he had his father to deal with. Until then, the one link that would tie him to the magical woman he was infatuated with, that could possibly lead him back to her, would have to be temporarily left alone.

  “Why have you never avenged the burning of our lands, Father?” Helgi implored that night as they gathered to eat. His mother, Sigrlinn, paused and gave him a stern look. Helgi’s father, Hjorvadr, turned a light shade of red and Helgi couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

  “You know I have been far too busy rebuilding the lands to even consider revenge-seeking,” Hjorvadr replied.

  It was the opening Helgi required. Since Svafa had left him, an idea had been forming. He felt like Svafa was interested in him, regardless of her hasty retreat. Yet, he still couldn’t shake the notion that she would not be impressed unless he was a fearsome warrior that was worthy of Valhalla. “Why don’t you send me on your behalf? It is time I began helping you defend our lands.”

  “Has your new name also come with a new disposition?” Sigrlinn asked. Since Helgi made the announcement, his mother had been out of sorts with him. It appeared she was jealous that another woman could succeed with her child where she had failed. Helgi reached out and touched his mother’s hand. He smiled at her and she smiled back. It was tight and only graced her lips briefly but it was enough for Helgi.

  “The woman who named me also gifted me a special sword,” Helgi said. “I am compelled to use this sword in defence of Svafaland. I feel it is no coincidence that the woman who named me also bears the same name as my homeland. It has to be fated, that this is my life’s quest, to do everything within my power to protect this kingdom.”

  His father took another bite of his meal but his jaw slackened as he chewed. Sigrlinn’s shoulders sagged a little as they loosened and his father leaned back in his chair as he chewed the fat from the bone in his hand. His words seemed to have diffused the situation.

  Sigarsholm was a dark place, shrouded in fog. Trees covered in ancient moss grew all around him. Their wide girth suggested great height but he couldn’t see how tall they truly were as their tops disappeared into the damp fog surrounding him.

  While Sigarsholm was small in size, Helgi was unsure just where to look when he arrived. Now, after hunting for the better part of two days for Svafa’s promised sword, he felt like he was walking in circles in the stagnant mists.

  Sitting on a wet rock that chilled him within moments of resting, Helgi tried to remember all that Svafa had said to him in verse. Mostly, the beautiful Valkyrie had explained what the special sword would look like, not where exactly it was to be found. “In Sigarsholm” was all that he remembered and he stuck his own sword into the fecund earth in frustration. The gifted weapon could literally be anywhere.

  “Give me a clue, Svafa?” he shouted into the air. He got no response other than a sudden deluge of rain to add to the ever-pervading dampness of the countryside.

  Pulling his cloak over his head, he cursed at the skies while he tried to find some shelter more than the skeletal trees surrounding him in order to see out the weather more comfortably. While it was near impossible to see far ahead through the shrouding fog, he thought he saw a rocky outcrop. For all the trees surrounding him, the chill of winter meant that very few of them supplied a leafy cover for him from the onslaught of the rain still falling. The prospect of protection from the weather quickened his pace.

  As he approached, he smiled. Not only was it shelter, but a dark shadow showed him that it was a cave, meaning he could likely sit comfortably and light a fire.

  While his kindling had remained relatively dry in his pack, the air around him seemed to dampen everything in sight. However, in the end, a small fire was started and Helgi warmed some water to make a cup of tea while he waited for the storm to pass.

  Leaning back into the slimy wall, Helgi sipped his tea and looked around the small cave for the first time. His jaw dropped in surprise.

  For, in one corner was a pile of swords.

  Throwing back his head he laughed.

  “So, you did bring the rain,” Helgi exclaimed, hoping Svafa could somehow hear him from across his world to hers.

  Dropping his cup, Helgi rushed over and picked over the wares. Svafa’s verse ran through his head as he sorted through the pile. He was looking for the image of a snake on the blade. Many of the weapons were engraved, most with runes or images of other animals. Helgi pulled out countless swords, checking each one and discarding them as soon as they came up lacking.

  A horse rearing, the fierce grimace of a lindworm, a pattern of stars. None of the etchings at all similar to the serpent he required.

  The assortment of weapons was rapidly shrinking and Helgi wondered if this was the wrong pile. Just how many discarded sword collections were there in Sigarsholm, anyway?

  Still, he looked. Maniacally he grabbed hilts and checked them for the image of a blood-flecked snake. A dread was starting to rise like bile from the pit of his stomach.

  Long flowing hair, a tree with spreading branches, the curves of waves and a ship. As he pulled out the next to last sword, he saw more curved lines and thought it was another weapon bearing the long tresses of a goddess.

  The weapon was heavy and jangled against the remaining sword. Helgi shook at it fiercely, angrily attempting to part the two weapons. As one clattered to the ground Helgi felt the one he clasped spring free. The weapon arched high into the air as if Helgi were about to strike someone with it.

  The firelight danced around the confined space as Helgi’s action caused movement in the air. The glint caught Helgi’s attention and a smile bloomed.

  He had found his name gift.

  With his newly acquired sword in hand, Helgi stepped forward and confronted Hrodmarr, the man who had razed Svafaland and now still had charge of his grandfather’s riches.

  “Charge!” Helgi roared out the battle cry and the army his father had given him rushed around, enveloping him a
s they descended on Hrodmarr’s army.

  The clash of swords was a fearsome sound, clattering in Helgi’s ears as he pursued Hrodmarr. He had instructed his army to clear the way for him. Hrodmarr’s death was to be his own victory, his personal payment for the conflict the man had brought down on his family.

  As he rushed forward, the clouds crashed together, synchronised with the battle on the ground. Helgi shuddered as a chill coursed down his spine. Glancing up, he swore he saw Svafa and her sisters descending onto the field.

  He smiled, hoping she would visit him. For Helgi figured that if he was fearless on the battleground today, Svafa would have no choice but to select him to return with her to Valhalla. For the first time in his life, he truly welcomed death.

  Yet, Svafa didn’t approach him as he reached Hrodmarr. Helgi raised his sword high, a roar of pure anger spewing from him as he unleashed his new weapon on the man who had brought down destruction on his family. As the sword crashed down on Hrodmarr’s shield, Helgi could see the fear in the man’s eyes. Bringing his sword back, Helgi attacked repeatedly. Each time, he was met with a wall of shields as Hrodmarr’s son, Alfr, hurried in with a small group of warriors to defend him.

  Each time he drew back, his arms burned with the wanton desire of destruction. Yet, Alfr was always there, his dark gaze upon him as his lips pursed together with determination.

  “You shall never defeat my father,” Alfr called out at one point, his face red with battle lust and rage. Helgi could see the hatred in the man’s eyes. It burned like a fire that was out of control and Helgi knew Alfr was now more of his enemy than his father, Hrodmarr, would ever be.

  Still, Helgi rushed at them. Sigar was at his side, backing him up but this conflict felt personal and Helgi barely paid heed to the warrior.

  Helgi raised his sword high over his head and never seemed to tire of hefting the large weapon, even if his body ached wearily with the exertion.

  “I am here, Helgi,” a voice whispered in his ear. Helgi paused in his plight, sword held high while he welcomed Svafa’s fine voice.

  The whine of metal through the air hissed dangerously close to Helgi’s ear. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his face softened as the tension of battle and of fighting for his life drained from his face and smoothed out the lines of worry.

  “I am ready to join with you,” he replied, downing his weapon.

  “But I do not want you to die, dear Helgi,” she replied. “I am here to protect you, to keep you alive. You are worth nothing to me once you are dead.”

  Helgi was deflated. He wanted to die today, to be able to enter Valhalla, Svafa’s sacred realm, and to spend the rest of this world’s days with her. Why did Svafa not want that too? Surely, a Valkyrie could not love a mortal unless he could prove himself in battle. It would be an honour for Helgi to die on this day, with the sword she had gifted him. Did she not want to see him at all?

  A cold fear washed over him. Perhaps she didn’t desire him. Maybe his feelings were not to be reciprocated.

  “I want to be with you,” Helgi said, not caring that he was revealing his true feelings to her as his gaze pleaded with hers. He let his sword sink further into the bloody mud of the battlefield.

  “And, so you shall, but in life, not in death.”

  Chapter 8: SVAFA

  The conflict forged on around Svafa and Helgi. Yet, the greatest battle appeared to be between themselves. Svafa stared at the handsome man in front of her, his blonde hair braided tightly and his muscular build doused in the blood and muck of war. A smear of bright red ran across one cheek and Svafa could see that it came from a nick on his face.

  While she had done well in casting protection over Helgi in addition to the magic worked into the runes on his sword, some man had managed to sneak in a blow and that wounded Svafa. She was confident in her ability. Yet, she knew if the gods had other plans for this man, her charms would amount to naught in regard to protecting him. The thought of him dying, of joining Odin’s army crushed her. She couldn’t bear the thought of him living on in her realm yet succumbing to the ways of those men, to be solely focused on preparing for battle and not of finding love.

  She shivered against a growing premonition. Svafa could feel it edging up her spine, the hairs on her arms rising as the dreadful feeling intensified. She was determined to love this man in life, no matter the cost.

  Or she would die trying.

  “I need you to live,” Svafa whispered. Her voice was soft, hidden in the clatter of battle that surrounded them but she knew Helgi heard her. “If there is any chance for our love to flourish, you need to survive this conflict. Valhalla changes people. You won’t be the same anymore, merely a warrior with war on his mind. I can’t have that, I won’t have that.”

  Helgi stepped towards her, letting go of his sword as he did so. It stuck well in the mud, still standing, as though waiting for its owner to claim it once more. Svafa had no time to worry about the sword though, as Helgi was reaching for her, his eyes blazing with intent and Svafa moved forward, her chest heaving as he approached her. He reached up, his giant hands gentle against her cheeks as he zoomed in and kissed her passionately.

  Svafa collapsed into him, her body molding to his as though they were two parts that were always meant to join. Heat rose from his body and Svafa had never felt as emblazoned as she did now in his strong embrace. His lips crashed over hers and she returned his kiss with a hunger that was fearsome. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for this man, she realised as his tongue probed her mouth and she devoured him.

  Her arms wrapped around Helgi’s strong shoulders as he lifted her up to his height. The battle continued on around them, blood and mud marking her, yet she didn’t care.

  Svafa held one hand up as they embraced, a protective shield against the onslaught around them. However, she was distracted by his embrace as she strained to maintain her magic. The occasional jostle as men fought to the death encroached on their world and reminded her where they were.

  Finally, Svafa pulled back, her eyes searching his, finding only hooded passion in return. She dived in, kissing him again, getting lost in the moment and never wanting to part from Helgi, the man she had only just met. The man she had loved forever without even knowing it.

  Eventually, Helgi pulled away.

  “If I must live, Svafa,” he said, raw emotion bleeding into his voice. “Then you must let me win this fight. After that, we will see how our situation can be amended.”

  Svafa didn’t want to let him go. Her arms locked around his neck and she revelled in the feel of his body pressed tightly against her own.

  So, it was Helgi who finally pulled away, grabbing his sword as he turned, and threw himself into the midst of the conflict. He called out to Hrodmarr, taunting the man and daring him to step forward.

  Svafa leaned over the battle, standing tall and throwing an invisible protective shield over the man she loved. Her dark eyes sizzled with the power from with, with the battle lust of the Valkyries. Her arms were held high, bands of silver encasing them like snakes frozen solid, giving her an eerie presence to all that witnessed her.

  As Helgi reached the man and struck him through with his sword, Svafa saw Mist also arriving, whispering the death call into Hrodmarr’s ear, sealing his fate.

  Sealing her fate.

  Chapter 9: HELGI

  After the battle was over, Hrodmarr’s kingdom was raided and Helgi reclaimed all of the riches that had once belonged to his own father. As Helgi focused on the wares, he noticed that some were familiar to him. He smiled as his fingers ran over jewellery that had once belonged to his mother. He would be glad to return it to her.

  But, Helgi didn’t have time for that just yet. Instead, without even stopping to wash or to attempt to remove the battle grime and with blood everywhere, Helgi jumped on his horse and rushed through the cheering crowd. He may have achieved a battle honour but there was more to his life now than merely being notorious for victory.

&nbs
p; He had a woman to claim.

  As soon as Hrodmarr fell, the Valkyries departed, kicking their steeds into a flurry of activity. They retreated from the battlefield and disappeared into a thick haze of fog conjured up by Mist using the life forces of the slain men who were now ready to follow them home.

  Helgi had swallowed hard as Svafa fought her horse, trying to stay there with him. While she had no choice but to follow the other women, she had managed to call out to him across the field as his brother, Hedinn, approached to greet him.

  And with that knowledge, Helgi was now on his way to visit with King Eylimi. His brother accompanied him on his journey.

  “I see why you are struck by this woman,” Hedinn said as they approached the village. “She is certainly a beauty like no other I have ever laid eyes on.”

  Helgi bristled at his brother’s words. Growing up together, they had always been competitive. Now was no exception. Helgi could tell from the way his brother spoke, and with the sly glance darting his way that Hedinn considered this just another competition between them. But, Helgi did not see it like that. He and Svafa were destined to be together. There was no way his brother could come between them.

  “Don’t get that look in your eye, Brother,” Helgi cautioned. “There is no question where this visit will lead. I will either walk away wed to Svafa or as a corpse destined for Valhalla. So, unless you plan to kill me—”

  A shiver ran down his spine and he found he couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he clicked his horse onwards and they cantered the short distance remaining between Helgi and Svafa’s hometown.

  “King Eylimi, I am Helgi Hjorvardssonar, named by your own daughter, Svafa. I arrive here today after a great victory against Hrodmarr and ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” The words blurted out of him quickly, said before he lost his nerve.