Pegasus and the Rise of the Titans (Pegasus #5) (23 page)

‘I’m sorry, Mother,’ Maya said. ‘But doesn’t Freya look beautiful?’

Her mother was much like Maya. Tall, elegant and beautiful. ‘Yes she does,’ she admitted. She embraced Freya warmly.

‘You are my youngest child and I am proud to welcome you into the sisterhood of the Valkyries. Come, my daughter, come and take your rightful place among us.’

Freya stood directly behind her mother, while Maya took position behind her. As they approached the wide doors of Valhalla, Maya donned her winged helmet and then placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m right behind you, Freya. Always.’

Grateful for her sister’s presence, Freya reached up and gave Orus a stroke on the chest. ‘Well, this is it.’

‘Good luck,’
the raven whispered.
‘You’ll do fine.’

As her mother led her into Valhalla, Freya felt the eyes of Asgard resting upon her. Lining the aisle leading up to Odin were all the other Valkyries. They were dressed in their full armour and wearing their winged helmets. Their wings were open in salute as they raised their swords high in the air.

Freya knew them all by name, but there were none among them that she could call friend. She was the youngest and the last in the long line of Valkyries. But this wasn’t what made her different. For reasons no one understood, Freya was the first Valkyrie born with solid black feathers, as opposed to the white or grey wings of the other Valkyries. This difference made her stand out and was the subject of much talk and rumour. At times, she felt almost as if they resented her and didn’t trust her. Her mother had always said that her father was a powerful warrior of dark hair and piercing black eyes. She had been told that he remained in Asgard and was one of the warriors fighting outside Valhalla. But her mother had never pointed him out.

When she was younger she would walk among the warriors and wonder if she could find him. But as time passed and she saw how brutal they could be, she lost interest. Besides, she reasoned, he could have come forward to find her. He knew her mother – surely if he wanted to meet her he could. So if he wasn’t interested, why should she waste her time trying to find him?

The blasting of horns pulled Freya from her thoughts. Everyone in the huge hall stood to attention. As Freya followed her mother down the long aisle, she walked past her three sisters at the front. Their swords were held high, their armour shone and their extended wings glistened as they all smiled proudly at her.

Finally, Odin appeared with his family on a tall dais at the front of the hall and took a position to receive her. Following close at his heels were Odin’s two pet wolves, Geri and Freki. At Odin’s command, they sat and panted softly.

Freya’s mother bowed before the leader of Asgard, stepped to the left and knelt down. Freya followed suit and knelt before Odin. Her sister bowed and then knelt on Freya’s right.

‘Rise!’ commanded Odin.

Freya rose and stood before the imposing leader. She felt awed in his presence. Odin was a terrifying sight in his full, well-used battle armour. His wild red hair spilled out from under his large horned helmet and his red beard grew long and thick, down to his waist. His left eye socket was covered with a gold patch. It was rumoured that he had sacrificed his eye in pursuit of wisdom, but Freya didn’t know if this was true or not. In his bare arms he carried his famous spear, Gungnir.

Freya had never been this close to Odin before and the sight of him petrified her. All the wild stories told about him and his strength and battle prowess now seemed possible as she stood before him.

Standing behind Odin was his wife, Frigg. She too was dressed in her golden battle armour and in her hands was the new silver breastplate that was to be given to Freya. Her long blonde hair was neatly styled in two bejewelled braids that almost reached down to her fur-lined boots. It was said she was the most beautiful woman in Asgard. Up close, Freya could see it was true. The only one who could ever rival her beauty was Freya’s own sister, Maya.

Beside Frigg was Thor. He was the spitting image of his father, Odin, except for the colour of his hair. Thor’s hair was long and blond; only his beard showed a trace of his father’s red. Thor stood stone-faced and unmoving as his blue eyes bored into her. He was clutching his hammer, Mjölnir, in one hand and holding a newly crafted winged helmet in the other.

It was said that Thor didn’t have a lot of time for the Valkyries and, by the dark expression on his face, Freya could see that this was true. What caused the animosity remained a mystery. But for as long as she had lived, Freya had done her best to avoid him and his sharp tongue.

Standing back against the wall behind the dais was Loki, the trickster and unrelated blood-brother to Odin. Unlike the other men of Asgard, he wasn’t strongly built, nor did he wear armour or carry a weapon. He had long dark-brown hair and sparkling, mischievous eyes. Freya knew even less about him than she did Thor. Only that, for reasons untold, Odin tolerated his presence in Asgard despite all the trouble he liked to cause. Her mother said he was dangerous and was always warning Freya to stay away from him.

As he caught her eye, he gave her a charming grin and bowed elegantly.

Odin cleared his throat loudly to ensure he had everyone’s attention. ‘Welcome to this final First Day Ceremony.’ He dropped his eyes and they landed directly on Freya.

‘Freya, today you are the last to join your sisters in the reaping. This is a sombre occasion indeed, filled with reverence for a time-honoured tradition assigned only to the Valkyries. It falls upon you to bring only the best of the slain to me, here at Valhalla. They have earned their place among the glorious dead and share in the celebration of battle . . .’

Freya stood before Odin, trying her best to stay focused and listen to every word of his long speech, but as the moments passed it was becoming harder and harder.

To her, there was no glory in being a warrior killed in battle. It was wasteful. Where were art, music and all the other parts that made up a life? Maya kept insisting there was more to the World of Man than just fighting. But if that was so, why did Odin revere it as he did?

As her eyes drifted around the Great Hall, she saw how everyone hung on Odin’s every word. How they murmured in agreement as he spoke of the glorious dead and of battles fought and won. Looking at the masses of people surrounding her, Freya had never felt more alone.

Why was she so different?

Why couldn’t she feel the same way everyone else did?

A sharp nip at her ear brought her out of her reverie. She stole a quick look at Orus on her shoulder.
‘Freya, stop daydreaming!’
he warned softly.
‘Prepare to swear your oath.’

With a quick nod, Freya turned her attention back to Odin. She hadn’t been aware of his speech and suddenly realized he was now deep into telling the story of Frigha, the runaway Valkyrie.

‘It gave me no joy to blind and de-wing her,’ he was saying. ‘Finally she was banished from her home in Asgard. To this day, she wanders the Earth alone, lost in her shame and betrayal . . .’

On and on Odin droned, giving warning to all Valkyries that once they swear the oath, they are bound to their duties. Freya wondered if he ever stopped talking long enough to actually breathe.

Finally he offered her his large hand. ‘Come forward, Freya,’ he commanded.

‘Go on,’
Orus ordered into her ear.
‘This is it!’

Freya nervously took hold of Odin’s outstretched hand and stepped up on to the dais. ‘Kneel, child.’

Freya opened her wings wide enough to allow her to kneel before the leader of Asgard as Odin placed a hand on the top of her head. ‘Freya, do you swear to carry out your duties to the best of your abilities?’

‘Say “I swear”,’
Orus whispered softly in her ear.

‘I swear,’ Freya repeated sombrely.

‘Do you swear allegiance to the sisterhood of the Valkyries and promise to fulfill your obligations as one of the favoured?’

‘I swear.’

‘Do you swear your allegiance to me to do my bidding according to the laws of the Valkyries – bringing only the best of the best warriors to my Great Heavenly Hall, Valhalla, and leaving the others to Azrael and his Angels of Death?’

Freya hesitated. This was the one order she knew was going to be hardest to follow. Who were they to decide who was worthy or not? How could she be expected to judge someone? It was all so unfair.

‘Say “I swear”!’
Orus whispered.
‘Freya, swear it!’

Freya could hear the sharp intake of breath from the others behind her as she hesitated.

‘Answer me,’ Odin commanded. ‘Do you swear?’

It went against everything Freya believed, but with the pressure of her mother beside her and all of Asgard gathered behind her, Freya finally nodded. ‘I swear.’

She could hear her mother release her held breath.

Odin inhaled deeply before continuing. ‘Do you understand your position as Valkyrie? That you possess the power to keep the Angels of Death at bay and with a word can command them away from the battlefield. They resent this ranking, but accept it. Do you?’

‘I understand and accept,’ Freya said.

‘Then it is by my order that I command you to arise, Valkyrie. Rise and receive your armour and sword.’

Freya climbed to her feet as Odin took her hand. He drew her back to his wife, Frigg.

Frigg raised the new silver armour. ‘By this breastplate, I give you the power of wisdom in choosing the best slain for Valhalla. May it guide you and protect you always. I welcome you, young Valkyrie.’

‘Lift your arms and open your wings,’
Orus softly instructed.

Freya felt as if she was in a dream as she lifted her arms and opened her wings fully. Frigg approached and placed the silver breastplate into position on her chest. The heavy armour fell down past her waist. She had never been measured for it yet, somehow, it fit the lines of her body perfectly. The leather straps were then fed around her body and under the wings at her back to be fastened at her right side.

With her breastplate in position, Frigg kissed Freya lightly on the forehead and took several steps back.

Next, Thor came forward. He put his hammer down as he lifted the silver winged helmet high above Freya’s head.

‘With this helmet, I grant you speed and stealth. No human eyes will rest upon you as long as you wear it. Only the dead and dying may see you as you truly are. Take this helmet and protect it. With it lies your power of secrecy.’ He paused and his blue eyes threatened. ‘But be warned. Never allow a living human to wear your helmet. To do so will cause the helmet great suffering and its cries will be heard in all Asgard.’

Thor took a step closer and put the silver winged helmet on Freya’s head. When it was in place, Freya felt everything change. She became dizzy and light-headed. The world around her drained of colour, as though she was gazing through a dense fog. Maya always said it was harder to see with her helmet on. Freya now understood what she meant. Though the helmet made her invisible and part of the ethereal realm, it had a cost. That cost was her clear, colour-filled vision.

She felt herself starting to fall. Thor’s strong arms went fast around her.

‘Steady . . .’ he said. ‘It takes a moment to adjust.’

Freya recovered, but still felt very strange, almost as if she weighed nothing. Distracted by the strange sensations coursing through her body, Freya was unaware of the silver gauntlets being drawn up her arms or the heavily jewelled dagger being placed at her waist.

When she was fully dressed in the armour of the Valkyrie, Odin came forward again. In his hand he carried a newly forged sword. Her sword.

Freya had seen Odin perform this part of the ceremony many times, and had watched her sisters going through it. But now that it was her turn, her fear returned.

Odin lowered the sword until the tip was resting halfway down her gown, just above her knees. He reached forward and pierced the fine fabric with the sharp tip. Then, as Freya stood perfectly still, he used the sword to cut away the lower length of the gown all the way around her body.

When he finished, the jagged edge of fabric rested against her thighs as the lower half of her beautiful gown lay on the floor in ruins. Looking down at herself, she knew this signalled the end of the life she had known. She was turning fourteen. It meant she was no longer a child, or a girl or even a young woman. She was now . . .

Valkyrie.

For Toulouse

Who always says:
‘I don’t write the books, I just make them better . . .’
Thanks, Tou
Love you

Copyright © 2015 Kate O’Hearn

This epub edition published in Great Britain in 2015 by Hodder Children’s Books

The right of Kate O’Hearn to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 978 1 444 92239 4

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