Chapter 34
Lux
As I spoke our ancient love story over Drak’s body, I could almost see him standing before me.
It was enough to feel real, like a memory pulled from the depths of my past, clouded by battles and pain.
Not a vision from Freya, not a godly glimpse of the future, not imagination—just a plain, stubborn memory dredged from years long gone.
I could not picture everything perfectly, but I felt the scene around me as I told him the saga of us. The quiet wedding between a love-struck skald and the farmer boy she had taught to fight at the base of Freya’s feet unfolded before me.
I saw a life well-lived until he was taken from me.
I saw our old home and described it to Drak’s limp body. Where he’d built a fire at the edge of the wood so that we could be alone, two young adults tempting a fate of pregnancy, before we’d said our vows. Where he’d given me a flat bear’s bone to carve runes into, calling it Myrah and Rune’s saga.
Where I’d chased after him. We were only children when he stole the wooden sword my father had carved for me and taunted me, telling me I couldn’t best him in a fight if I didn’t have a weapon.
At first, he hated that I could fight better than him.
Later, he said it was one of the most fascinating parts of me.
I wasn’t afraid to spar with him, with a sword and shield or on the furs with our naked bodies intertwined.
A memory of our home and the life we had brought me back to the edge of the farm.
One of our sheep was missing, and I knew she was hurt based on the blood soaking the bent weeds beneath my feet.
With winter approaching, every loss felt catastrophic.
Every animal played an important role when frost coated the ground and crops died out.
Each ewe provided wool for extra blankets and milk to fill our bellies.
It was increasingly important now that we prepared for battle to defend Skaldir. As West Anglor pushed into Vylheim’s villages, the other kingdoms pushed into Skaldir, threatening to take our homes and displace us, or worse, force us into slavery.
Glancing back at the house, I squinted beyond the peaked timber roof and toward the village.
Rune would come from that direction, marching through the heart of Skaldir with his spoils after the hunt, but he wasn’t here yet.
I’d have to find the ewe quickly if I wanted to greet him upon return.
We’d promised one another an evening just for us after so many days and nights toiling and preparing for winter’s arrival in Skaldir, working with the other men and women to gather and store food with salting and drying.
Tonight, I’d sit under candlelight and carve runes into bone to record the lives of the people in Skaldir, and Rune would lie beside me, listening to my story.
His open palms would rub across my bare back until he could no longer resist kissing my neck or brushing his fingers over my nipples.
After that… a blush warmed my icy cheeks.
Snapping my focus back toward the sheep’s trail, I forged ahead, following the smashed weeds. The poor creature must have limped away or was dragged by wolves.
I pulled the axe I’d used for chopping wood from the hook at my belt.
Gripping it tightly, I crept along, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of white wool among the brown and green in the faded shadows of dusk.
The further I tracked it, the less blood I found.
I clucked my tongue, calling out for the sheep with a gentle tutting.
Dusk slipped into night as darkness coated the fields.
A howling wind picked up, slicing across my cheeks with an icy edge.
Droplets of the ewe’s blood led me to the opening of a cave where she either dragged herself to shelter from the wind and the dropping temperatures, or a predator brought her here.
I wasn’t about to go near the home of a pack of wolves or a bear. The ewe was lost.
I turned and picked my way back toward the farm only to realize it was no longer in sight. I had gone too far. The wind dried out my eyes, and with the remnants of the sun gone, the air turned frigid. As my boots crushed the brittle leaves beneath me, another noise cut through the forest.
A low growl sent my heart racing, and I spun to face the cave’s entrance.
It didn’t matter that I’d been careful to stay away because the predator had already heard me.
I lifted the axe and held my breath as I scanned the shadows, the bushes, and the edge of the woods to my right.
Two glowing eyes stared back. They drifted closer and the growling swelled around me as the creature emerged from the brush.
I steadied myself, ready to strike the moment it lunged. Time seemed to stretch as we locked eyes. Surely it wanted another catch for its den, but I could fight it off. It sank back onto its haunches for a single, tense breath, and I did not dare blink.
As soon as her hind legs jerked and her body launched toward me, I swung. The axe’s blade landed with a muffled thunk near the wolf’s neck. The beast recoiled, blood spreading across the thick cream-white fur on her shoulder and neck. She was far from defeated, snarling and baring her fangs at me.
I barely had time to raise the axe before a blow from behind knocked the wind out of me. My hands splayed out, instinctively dropping my weapon to catch myself before my forehead slammed against a rock. Claws tore at my back, and the heavy weight of another animal bore down on me.
The wolf had brought her pack.
Scrambling for the hilt of the axe, I barely brushed it when a horrible pain shot through my shoulder. The wolf’s jaws clamped down around the bone, and a piercing cry ripped from my throat. The thud of a dozen paws pounded around me as they closed in to take a bite of their latest catch.
But I wasn’t going to die searching for a damn sheep. My hand shot out toward the axe, and I wrapped my fingers around the hilt. Twisting as much as I could, I swung it at the wolf bearing down on me.
Whimpers erupted from him as blade met skull, but victory was short-lived before another wolf snapped at me, so close her saliva dripped across my eyebrow. Her jaws split again, and her sharp canine tore a fiery line across my cheek just as I rolled the other way—toward another wolf.
No. This couldn’t be the end of my life. How foolish and unworthy of a saga. Rune would find my remains here and record the briefest story.
Darkness enveloped me, and I saw my friend who’d fallen through ice and drowned. I saw my older brother who died defending Skaldir from another village’s attack. I saw a flesh and blood version of the stone statue depicting Freya.
She stood before me with something wet and bloody in her hand. My mouth dropped open as I understood it was a heart, still beating, and pushing blood from inside it to drip out over her fingers. My heart.
Flicking her eyes up, she met my gaze. “Myrah, Folkvangr is your fate.”
I shook my head, the words of denial stuck in my throat. Rune and I were to defend Skaldir, and if we died in battle, our afterlife was meant to be Valhalla, together.
“Myrah!” Rune’s voice jerked me out of the vision. My life wasn’t over yet.
Rune ran as fast as he could, axe overhead as he threw himself at the wolf on top of me. His wild, animalistic look matched the predators that hunted me. As soon as his weapon hit the beast, I was free to breathe and grab my own axe.
A wracking pain burned at my shoulder, and my arm almost went limp, but I forced myself to move through the pain. I kicked at the first wolf who was still bleeding over me. She doubled back when my foot planted against her wound.
Agony in my shoulder made my head spin and my vision blur, but watching Rune cut down another wolf flared my determination.
A yell tore from my throat as I got to my feet, swinging repeatedly; my blade struck fur and flesh, but every blow was in vain.
The wolves were stronger than ever. Each wound healed quickly, and they bit back with twice the ferocity, as if Freya had called upon Odin’s wolves, Geri and Freki, to lure me into this vision.
I heaved a breath, peeling my lips back to scream at them.
“Leave! Go, Geri, Freki. Run back to the gods!” Rune snapped his attention to me, but I faded fast, my voice trailing into weakness and my legs buckling beneath me.
But by the will of the gods, every wolf obeyed.
They clamped their jaws shut and backed away, yellow eyes still fixed on us before they turned and threw themselves into the night.
Darkness encompassed me as Rune ran to me and fell to his knees. I woke to the steady rhythm of his stride. With my head against his warm chest, unconsciousness beckoned me, but the searing pain in my shoulder kept me alert.
“I can’t be a shield-maiden like this,” I said, my voice squeaking with effort. “The battle—”
“I’ll fight for both of us.”
“No, Rune, I—I had a vision.” He looked down at me with eyes full of curiosity and worry. I’d never had a vision before, but I had feelings, sensations, plenty of times, and I’d proudly claimed my title as a witch, though I wasn’t exactly a seer—yet. “Freya has claimed me for Folkvangr.”
He denied this with a simple “no.” “We’re going to Valhalla together,” he said.
“How? This isn’t the will of the gods.”
“Fuck the gods,” he said.
“Rune…”
“I made a promise to you when we married: we won’t ever be apart.”
“You don’t have a say in that.”
“You didn’t die today, did you? I’ll find a way to you again, just as I did today.”
I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Rest and recovery were my only focus now. “I wish I had never left the farm,” I said.
“You were only defending what was yours. As you always have.” A smile softened his face. “And I’m here now, Myrah, sleep.”
Except right as he instructed me to sleep, the memory and saga faded away, and the reality of my husband’s lifeless body struck me. The story was over. I had nothing left to tell of our saga right now. Tears blurred Drak’s ashen face as I leaned over him and pressed my head to his chest.
“You’re not here now,” I whispered.