Chapter 12 #3
Pride and compassion shone in Kára’s pale blue gaze.
“He died with honor—a gleaming sword in his mighty arm, a battle cry on his bearded lips.” She smiled softly at Brynhildr, her teeth shimmering like perfect pearls.
“A warrior as fierce as Atli is always marked for Odin. He now feasts with the Allfather among the einherjar.”
Just as he always wanted. A warrior’s death and the glory of Valhalla. Like my broeir, my childhood dreams have also come true. For now I ride as a Valkryie—yet my heart, body, and soul yearn for Sigurd.
* * * *
Each day, after rune readings with Kára, Brynhildr followed the grassy path down to the pebbled shore and watched him through the Mirrored Sea.
He was training his new warriors with the Sjórúlfar, preparing for an upcoming voyage to Sweden, where he would avenge his faeir’s death by slaying the treacherous King Lyngvi of Gotaland.
Sigurd had acquired a third ship, úlfhrafn—the Wolf Raven.
Its golden sail, bearing the head of a fierce blue wolf, combined the vibrant colors of their two sigils.
The golden hue represented Brynhildr as the Sun Falcon Shieldmaiden of Hrafnfjall, and the deep blue wolf symbolized Sigurd, the Sea Wolf who had knelt before his golden Valkyrie.
The sight stole her breath, singed the ouroboros on her skin, and squeezed her heart in an unyielding vice of grief.
This afternoon, when Brynhildr donned her golden corslet and headed toward the field where she trained daily with Skogul, she was surprised to find both of her Valkyrie sisters waiting. Each was clad in armor and cloaked in swan wings, wielding sword, shield, and spear.
Pulse pounding, legs trembling, Brynhildr forced a swallow down her constricted throat and strode across the wildflower-strewn meadow.
“Today is your first trial.” Skogul flashed a garish grin. “Let us go down to the Mirrored Sea, where you shall wield seier and select the slain.”
Brynhildr stood on the sunlit shore, gazing through the still surface of the Mirrored Sea, using her enhanced skills to search the human realm with seier.
“What do you see?” Kára’s whisper floated into her ear like the soft breeze over the fjord.
In the vision unfolding before her, Brynhildr glimpsed the chaos and carnage of battle. Swords clashed, axes slammed shields, and threads of fate floated like sea mist through the rippled air.
As she analyzed positions and interpreted tactics, Brynhildr spotted sinuous coils encircling a furious king whose livid face burned as fiercely as his braided red hair.
Like enormous black snakes, the thick smoke curled around him, as if to consume him in flames.
Across the blood-soaked field, shimmering ribbons—like finely spun silver or strands of clear crystal—swirled around a blond warrior, valiantly defending his men.
“The redbeard king,” Brynhildr breathed, her voice quavering like her leather-clad legs, “is marked for Odin. And the blond warrior…is claimed for Freyja.”
Skogul’s sharp voice cut through the vision. “You see clearly. Now you must act. Come—and mark them with your spear.”
* * * *
The overwhelming copper tang of blood blended with the cloying stench of death and the foul odor of vomit and bowels as Brynhildr descended onto a hilltop overlooking the raging battlefield.
She left Himingdrápa on the grassy ledge, alongside Silfrfaxi and Bylgja, the white winged horses of Kára and Skogul.
Spreading her swan wings wide, Brynhildr swept down to select the slain.
Under the watchful eyes of her Laguz Triad sisters, she hovered over the fierce redbeard king. When an enemy sword pierced his armor and punctured his fiery heart, he bellowed like a wounded bull.
Brynhildr remembered her battle training with Skogul. And now, for the very first time, she would wield Valkjósleier— the golden spear Freyja had bestowed when claiming her as a Valkyrie at the Sólhjarta Tournament.
Touch a warrior with the blade of your spear to mark him for Odin. Point the tip toward his heart to claim him for Freyja.
Golden vambrace around her forearm gilded by the setting sun, Brynhildr reverently lifted Valkjósleier and pressed the gleaming blade to the sword arm of the wounded king.
Like flickering flames, a fiery light appeared, the luminous threads taking his soul to Valhalla.
Across the bloodied field, the blond warrior she had glimpsed in the Mirrored Sea fiercely battled for the love of his kingdom.
When an axe embedded in his courageous chest, Brynhildr pointed the tip of her spear toward his loyal heart.
Silvery ribbons of crystalline light wound around him, lifting his soul to Fólkvangr.
She gazed up at her two Valkyrie sisters, still seated upon their winged horses.
Skogul shot her a fierce grin, and Kára nodded, her radiant smile conveying pride at Brynhildr’s success.
Slipping from their saddles, they unfurled the white wings of their swan cloaks and swept over the battlefield.
Touching blades to sword arms of certain warriors while pointing the tips toward the hearts of others, they selected the slain with their shining spears.
Souls rose to the sunset sky in streams of searing fire and crystalline light. Seier surged in Brynhildr’s veins as the threads of wyrd wove beneath her awestruck gaze.
When the redbeard king’s roar faded and his body fell, his warriors faltered, their resolve dissolving with their leader’s death.
Screams and clashing metal gave way to the hurried thud of boots as they scrambled down the hillsides, bearing the wounded, leaving the slain behind.
Timber creaked with the clang of shields and the slapping of oars as they clambered aboard their drakkar warships and pushed off into the bloodied fjord.
Across the field, the blond warrior’s men raised axes, swords, and shields in resounding triumph.
Cheers echoed through the valley as they watched the desperate enemy retreat.
In reverent silence, they lifted the body of their slain leader, creating a funeral pyre that sent curling smoke toward the sky as they paid tribute to him and their fallen brothers.
While the living honored and mourned the dead, Brynhildr and her two Valkyrie sisters returned to their trio of white winged horses.
Atop their majestic steeds, the Laguz Triad soared into the twilit sky, heading west over the open sea, into the setting sun.