The Unnamed Warrior

by Rachel Tsoumbakos

  Helgi kneeled and angled his manhood, diving in and filling her completely. The embrace of his member by her was almost too much to bear and he gritted his teeth rather than lose himself completely so quickly.

  “I am not ready to see you leave so soon,” Svafa said as she lounged in their bed. She reached up and stretched, her long limbs elegant in their movement. The furs fell away and Helgi breathed deeply with the sight of her. It was enough to want her again already.

  “I don't want to leave either, my love,” Helgi replied. He had been dressing but now leaned forward to kiss his new wife. As they embraced, Helgi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Svafa smelled different to other women. It was like stepping out into the weather, right before a storm hit when the air was alive with the power of it. It was intoxicating and for a moment he forgot where he was and what he was doing.

  War.

  Helgi was readying himself for war, he finally remembered as Svafa pulled away from him. He opened his eyes regretfully and made contact with Svafa’s dark eyes, a shade of blue he couldn’t put a description to. They were as unique and powerful as the scent of her.

  “I will only be gone a short while,” Helgi promised as he stood once more and returned to gathering his cloak. As he swung it around himself, he continued to speak. “Your father assures me that this conflict will be easily resolved without too much letting of blood. So, it is possible that I will not even see you on the battlefield.”

  The fact that Svafa was a Valkyrie was an unexpected joy once they realised that she would visit him wherever he travelled in relation to protecting his father-in-law’s lands.

  Since they married, Helgi had moved to Eylimi’s kingdom and promised to serve under him. It meant that Svafa wouldn’t have to travel far from her father’s side and Helgi was relieved at that. Even though they had only been married a short amount of time, he was aware of the strong bond between the Valkyrie and her father.

  Svafa had pointed out to him one night as they lay in bed next to a roaring fire that her father was a mere mortal, destined to die many years before she ever would—if she even perished at all. Valkyries were certainly not as vulnerable as humans in their physique as well as their lifespan. It was unknown just how long a Valkyrie could live for. Svafa had told him that some of her sisters had been born many years before she was and would continue living for an indeterminate amount of time into the foreseeable future. Although, other sisters of Svafa had perished. Some through injury, some on account of magic, or other reasons unknown to her.

  It concerned Helgi that she would outlive him. Somewhere, in the days, or months, or years to follow, he would perish, as all humans did. Yet, Svafa would remain, as beautify and youthful as ever. Or, maybe she would tire of him well before he died as his body sagged and grew weary from the rigours of life.

  He shuddered as the thoughts swirled through his mind.

  “What is worrying you, dear husband?” Svafa asked quietly. Helgi turned to her and looked deep into her eyes, stalling before he answered her.

  “I am wondering when you will tire of me and my human body,” he finally uttered, his hand reaching up to cup her face. “What will you do when I die?”

  He studied her intently and saw her brow furrow. Svafa never broke eye contact, though, and Helgi could see wetness starting to pool at the sides of her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, the salt of her tears cooling on his lips. “I am sorry to have upset you.”

  “Don’t be, Helgi,” she replied as she pulled back from him. “I am merely trying to comprehend a life in which you are not in it.” She bit down on her lower lip, her frown intensifying. “If you die, Helgi, then I will want to die along with you. There is no point to my life after you are gone and I shall find a way to join you in death. There has to be a way. I will speak to Freya.”

  The last sentence whittled off like she wasn’t really speaking to him anymore but was turning already to the gods for advice. Helgi shuddered with her words and he pulled tightly on his cloak in response.

  “Do not seek to end your life on my account, Svafa,” Helgi eventually replied. “I do not want that hanging over me. Go on, after I have died, seek out someone else, be happy.”

  But they were hollow words. He could see that Svafa knew he was only speaking them because that is what he thought he should be saying. Deep down inside, if he were to be honest with himself, he didn’t want Svafa to go on after he died. Instead, he wanted her to join him, to comfort him as he descended into the grave. He was selfish, he knew, but it didn’t change his true feelings.

  “I don’t want to find another man,” she said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. She tucked her head into his chest, as if what she was to say next needed anonymity. “Before I found you, I lived a long life. There is no other man for me, I know that with a certainty I just can’t explain. I love you too much to find someone else to replace you. Even though we have only been together a short amount of time, I couldn’t imagine being without you, not standing alongside you. I feel like the fates have been cruel, giving me you to love when I will certainly outlive you. Yet, even if you were reborn over and over again, I feel like I could never reach the end of our love.”

  Helgi froze with her words. The world seemed to pause around them as if the gods had sucked in their breath and were now waiting to see what happened next. A ripple of goosebumps rolled up his arms and Helgi knew that she had spoken a truth that could never be unspoken.

  Chapter 12: HEDINN

  The forest was dark as Hedinn entered it. Shadows lengthened out as the sun dipped lower in the sky. As he walked, the unbidden image of Helgi’s new wife flashed in front of his eyes.

  Ever since he had laid eyes on Helgi’s love, Hedinn had been smitten by the Valkyrie. Visions of the woman dancing in his head during the day and caused intoxicating dreams of a night-time. Helgi knew he had been serious when he commented about Svafa’s beauty. Of course, Hedinn was besotted by the woman and would have tried his hand at having her if he thought he had a chance. But, in all seriousness, while he wanted the woman, she was now Helgi’s and he would step back from her.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Hedinn froze, startled by the sound of the woman’s voice. He was not scared alone in the forest but he had been so lost in thought that the unbidden voice surprised him.

  “Yes?” he questioned. The woman was old, wizened with age, and ugly. She was short and round, and sat atop a wolf, riding like one would ride a horse. Considering her size, it seemed appropriate.

  “I am wondering if you could spare me your company on this fine night?”

  As Hedinn stepped forward, he noticed the wolf’s bridle was not made of leather and silver but of twining snakes. Their tongues sticking out and flickering before darting back into their mouths. Hedinn stepped back once more.

  “Nay,” he said, not even able to be polite about it. If he was taken to fanciful ideas, he would think she looked like a troll-woman and not a human like him.

  The woman’s face twisted as she studied him. Her eyes blazed and her dark lips pursed tightly. Hedinn’s mouth went dry and he wondered if he should make amends and tell the woman that she could travel with him. Even as he thought it, he could feel the clamp of fear closing his throat so that he couldn’t have spoken the words even if the gods willed it.

  “You will pay for this at the king’s toast, tonight,” the woman finally replied before kicking her heels into the wolf. The beast lopped off into the forest and Hedinn was left standing there alone once more, waiting for the terror to bleed out of him. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and laughed. The nervous sound was dry, like a cough, and disappeared as quickly as it came.

  Aye, he thought. He should have heeded the warnings from his cousins before he set off tonight. It was Yuletide-eve after all. If there was ever a time for strange things to occur, it was this night. Hedinn wondered if it was a spirit he had seen just now, the trapped remains of a human who didn’t
know they were dead already. They were supposed to appear freely on Yule-eve.

  Yes, that must have been it. He had just seen a ghost, that was all. A shiver ran down his spine and he turned back the way he had come to see if the strange lady was still there.

  Turning back around when he saw the path was clear, Hedinn stamped his feet and snorted plumes of smoky air out of his nose. Wrapping his cloak tighter around his body, he continued on his way through the darkening forest.

  In direct contrast to the frigid climate outside, the room Hedinn entered was stifling with heat as people crowded into the king’s longhouse. They were all here to celebrate the king’s toast, as was the custom on the eve of Yuletide. Hedinn held his cup high when it was filled with sweet honey mead.

  “Do you swear an oath to the king?” The knight asked and Hedinn nodded in reply.

  “Aye, I do,” he said before drinking down the potent drink.

  As he did so, he thought he spied the same woman he had seen in the forest. He sat up high in his chair. The chill of fear from earlier returned as he scanned the room. People jostled around him as he searched. A small figure darted through the crowd, much too agile for the old lady he had seen in the forest.

  Then, at the back of the room, grey hair caught his eye and he clawed his way through the crowd, trying to find the woman. People grunted as he pushed through, some yelling at him or pushing back. Still, Hedinn continued his pursuit.

  When he reached the far side of the hall, there was no grey-haired woman there, only a group of men being served by a young girl. Perhaps, her blonde hair had looked grey as it caught the firelight. Hedinn shook his head and accepted a refill of his drink from the small girl before she moved on. He collapsed down onto the bench that ran the length of the room and threw back most of his drink in one gulp.

  He was seeing things he decided, taking another swig from his cup. But it didn’t settle his unease.

  The doors of the longhouse burst open and men charged in, dragging a boar with them. Everyone in the tight confines shuffled around further to make space for the beast.

  Hedinn stood taller, once more trying to see around the disruption as the sound of a wolf baying entered the longhouse together with the new group.

  Then, he was leaning forward, along with everyone else, each trying to lay their hands on the boar, to be a part of the king’s toast. The animal’s bristles prickled his hand when he made contact.

  A woman stepped forward, her body painted with intricate designs. Ivy was wound through her hair and dark makeup was drawn around her eyes. She raised a knife high above her head and a man started beating a drum.

  “For Frey!” she called before lowering the knife to the boar’s throat, a tribute to the god of prosperity and kingship. Two men held the beast but it fought against their grip. The woman could see their struggle and moved in quickly to slit the boar’s throat. “For the king’s toast!”

  Across the room, everyone echoed the same words, each making silent wishes for the new year ahead as they did so.

  Hedinn, caught up in the moment saw a fleeting image of Svafa once more. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have her as his own.

  “And, so it is done,” a voice at his ear whispered.

  Hedinn turned and found the terrible troll-woman and realised what he had done.

  “No,” he uttered, stepping back from the woman and away from the boar who now lay on the ground. It twitched at his feet with its final death throes. “No, I didn’t mean it.”

  Hedinn was horrified. How could he make such a wish on a night such as this, with the king’s toast being performed? It was the only time of the year to make serious wishes with the likelihood of a positive outcome.

  Hedinn felt a cold dread rising. He had just doomed his own brother’s happiness.

  Chapter 13: FREYA

  “Something bad has happened,” Freya said when Loki approached. The god reminded her of a wild beast in the way in which he sneaked up on them. It was like he was ever encircling them, looking for his moment to strike.

  “I know,” Loki replied. “I was with Frey when it happened.”

  “What did he say?” Freya asked. Could this disaster be averted so quickly? Could Frey wipe the curse from existence?

  “He laughed heartily,” Loki replied and Freya’s mood sunk. “He thought it was a wonderful twist.”

  Freya pinched at her bottom lip and peered off into the crowded room of Valhalla. She could see Svafa serving ale to a new recruit and felt sorry for the Valkyrie. Her world was about to implode around her and she had no idea of it yet.

  “We must endeavour to keep Svafa away from Helgi when he gets involved in altercations or battles. At any moment from now on, he could be taken from her.” Freya clutched at Loki’s arm. “I need you to make sure Svafa isn’t present when this happens. At any cost, you need to lure her away from conflict involving Helgi. I couldn’t bear her having to witness that. Can you do that for me Loki?”

  “I suppose that can be arranged,” Loki replied. “It might be fun to dabble in the Valkyries lives since I have never paid them heed before.”

  Freya continued to squeeze her bottom lip as she processed the situation.

  “Frey is my brother, my own flesh and blood, I will see what I can do to change this.”

  “What’s the point?” Loki asked. His face was serious for once, no semblance of his annoying smirk could be seen. “Helgi isn’t of the Volsung bloodline anyway, so he is of no use to me anyway.”

  Freya still hadn’t committed completely to Loki’s cause, no to his face, anyway. However, over the years, she had pondered his words and had come to believe, especially since Svafa had fallen in love with Helgi, that they might finally stand a chance against the all-consuming Ragnarok.

  “But, Svafa has the right lineage,” Freya countered, hoping Loki wouldn’t see it as an admission of her siding with him. “And to see Helgi die would destroy her. We cannot produce a line of Ragnarok contenders if there is no mother to start with.”

  While the runes had been strangely specific regarding the blending of Svafa’s bloodline with that of a Volsung human, Freya knew that even if Helgi wasn’t the right person, that another man would present himself. Except that Svafa wanted Helgi and if he were to die, Freya could just imagine the sort of mess they would be in. And that is why she was hoping to avert danger by speaking with her twin brother.

  Freya sighed. Nothing good ever came of love affairs concerning the Valkyries.

  “You know your brother won’t lift the curse.”

  “There is no harm in speaking to him,” Freya replied. “This might be our one chance. If Helgi dies, it could shatter Svafa and she will never settle for another mortal. Where will that leave you and your little plan? Helgi may not be the right choice for her as far as the gods are concerned. However, maybe when Helgi gets old, and she tires of him, the right man will present himself?”

  Loki was quiet after that and Freya was thankful as she stood to leave. Although, it meant that her mind could wander. By the time she crossed the great hall to where Frey sat, she had created a multitude of scenarios in her mind about how this could all go so dreadfully wrong.

  “Dear Brother,” Freya said as she sat down next to her twin. “How are you on this fine evening?”

  Reaching out, she patted Frey’s hand, her touch lingering.

  Her brother laughed. “Is this about Helgi’s curse?”

  “What makes you think that? Can’t I just visit with my brother occasionally without there being an ulterior motive behind it?”

  “When was the last time that happened, dear Sister?”

  Frey turned to look at her and she avoided making eye contact with him. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she sat with Frey outside of needing something from him.

  “Well, since I am here, why don’t we discuss the curse?” Freya finally turned to her brother and met his gaze squarely.

  “I am not relinquishing it,” her brother r
esponded. “A curse is an obligation when it falls on Yuletide. To go back on it would make me look like a fool, like a god that can be walked all over.”

  Freya frowned briefly before an idea occurred to her. “Let me tell you why we need Helgi to live.”

  She tried to keep it simple, to give Frey enough of the details of Loki’s plan to sway him on the matter. She felt bad for not even telling Odin of these details before she shared it with anyone else. But this situation demanded a rash decision.

  “And so, as you can see, if Helgi lives, you might stand a good chance of surviving Ragnarok.” It was believed that many of them would perish at the last great battle between the gods and that her brother was one of those that would be defeated. “Plus, you’re a god of the people on Midgard. Aren’t you supposed to bring about their prosperity? Isn’t breaking the curse against Helgi helping him to gain this?”

  Frey was silent and Freya waited patiently. She held her breath, too scared to even blink in case it swayed her standing with her brother.

  “Except, what of Hedinn?” Frey finally quipped. “He was the one who made the oath on Yuletide, it is he who I must honour on this day. I’m sorry, but I cannot break this curse and you know that.”

  Withdrawing his hand from her embrace, Frey stood and walked off, leaving Freya alone.

  Chapter 14: SVAFA

  A frigid shudder ran up Svafa’s spine. It was enough to make her lurch forward and clutch at her sides as a sickening roll of her stomach threatened to burst free. She bit her lip and waited for the roiling to stop.

  “Are you all right, sister?” Mist asked, stepping forward and patting Svafa gently on the back.

  “I’m not sure,” Svafa replied. Her stomach had settled but her head still swum a little as she stood upright once more. “It was like a cold wind shocked me. It was so freezing that it made me feel sick for a moment.”