Valkyrie

VALHALLA

‘
I
f on some cold winter’s night you gaze up into the darkened sky and see the glow of the Northern Lights – consider this. Those shimmering colours are not an illusion. They are the glow of the Rainbow Bridge called Bifröst. Across that magnificent bridge, far from the World of Man, you will find Asgard: Land of the Norse Gods and home of Valhalla.

Also known as Odin’s Great Heavenly Hall for the Heroic Dead, Valhalla sits in the very centre of Asgard. Resting deep within the ethereal plane it is accessible from Earth only by crossing Bifröst.

Enormous in size, with a thousand spires rising high into the clouds, Valhalla hosts over five hundred entrance doors. Each door is wide enough to allow eight hundred slain warriors to pass through, marching side by side.

In ancient times, the Vikings fought valiantly to earn a seat at Valhalla. It was all they strived for. But to get there, they had to be selected by an elite group of winged Battle-Maidens, known as the Valkyries.

In the middle of the battlefield, the Valkyries would swoop down from the skies, riding their winged Reaping Mares and howling their haunted cries. Coming to Earth, or Midgard, as they called it, to choose among the dead and dying only the most valiant of warriors to deliver to Odin at Valhalla.

Arriving at Valhalla, these chosen warriors would spend their nights sitting with Odin, feasting and drinking. They would dance with the Valkyries and listen to their enchanting songs as the Battle-Maidens entertained the dead.

A warrior’s days at Valhalla were spent on the training grounds outside the heavenly hall, as they picked up their weapons and gloried once again in endless battle.

This was their heaven and their paradise. In today’s battles, soldiers have long forgotten Valhalla and the Valkyries that fly in to gather up the chosen dead.

Though we have forgotten them, they haven’t forgotten us . . .

CHAPTER ONE

T
he first rays of dawn swept over the distant horizon and drove away the long night. But Freya did not welcome the rising sun. It was her mortal enemy, that would bring only sorrow. She tilted her wings and flew headlong into the fading darkness, hoping to follow the night, praying day would not find her.

But darkness betrayed her and allowed in the light. She had been flying all night, soaring high above Asgard, dreading her upcoming First Day Ceremony.

Orus, her raven companion, flew at her side and tried his best to keep up. But his wings were much smaller than hers, and despite his best efforts he lagged behind. After the long flight, he was too tired to beg her to go back. All he could do was try to stay with her and help guide her through First Day.

‘Freya!’ a voice called from behind her.

Freya looked back and saw her older sister Maya soaring confidently behind them. Her own raven was flying closely at her side.

‘Freya, stop!’ Maya called. ‘Please land; we must speak.’

Orus forced more speed and caught up with Freya.
‘Stop!’
he gasped.
‘I can’t fly much longer, and your sister is calling.’

Freya looked over to her raven and saw how exhausted he was. She hadn’t been fair, forcing him to fly all night. Pulling in her wings, she descended and gracefully touched down in a field of golden grain. As she folded and settled her midnight-black wings on her back, Orus landed on her shoulder.
‘Don’t lose your temper with your sister,’
he panted softly.

‘Thank Odin I found you!’ Maya cried as she also landed and charged towards Freya. ‘Mother’s in a state. Everyone is searching for you. Where have you been all night?’

Freya used her sleeve to wipe away the beads of sweat from her brow. Now that she had stopped, she felt exhausted from the long flight. The muscles in her wings warned of the stiffness to come. ‘I needed a bit of fresh air.’

‘I can see that,’ Maya cried. ‘But why didn’t you tell anyone you were going? You could have at least told me!’

‘I saw you dancing at Valhalla with some of the warriors. I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘You know I would much rather spend time with you than dance.’ Maya softened her tone. ‘Especially on the eve of your First Day.’

‘I don’t want to do this.’

Her sister’s pale brows knitted together in a frown. ‘Do what?’

‘This! Today!’ Freya shot back. ‘My First Day Ceremony and then going to the battlefield.’

‘What do you mean? You’ve been to the battlefields thousands of times. You have spent all of your life there. Only today you will reap your first dying warrior.’

Freya sighed heavily. ‘But I hate it. I hate the warriors and I hate all the killing and wounding. Humans are bloodthirsty monsters. I don’t want to touch them or be part of bringing more of them here. Asgard would be much better off without Valhalla and its dead warriors.’

Maya looked shocked. ‘How can you say that? Valhalla is a wondrous place and a home to all the valiant warriors who have fallen in battle since the dawn of time! Those men have earned the right to be here. It is a great honour that we are the ones chosen to escort them. You should celebrate them and what they have achieved.’

‘All they have achieved is being good killers!’ Freya challenged. ‘And what does that make us when we reap them? We’re even better killers!’

‘We do not kill!’ her sister said indignantly. ‘We are Valkyries. We bring an end to their suffering and escort them home.’

‘It’s still killing,’ Freya insisted, and her wings fluttered in annoyance. ‘If we didn’t touch them, they would live.’

‘No they wouldn’t. It is their time to die, whether we touch them or not,’ Maya insisted.

‘But I don’t want to do it,’ Freya responded as she turned and walked away from her sister. ‘I don’t want to touch a human or even talk to them. I have seen the warriors at Valhalla. All they want to do is kill and destroy.’

Her sister started to preen the black feathers on Freya’s folded wings. ‘Freya, how can I make you see that you’re wrong? The soldiers of today are nothing like the warriors of the past. Most do not remain in Asgard and choose to ascend to be with their families. You’ll see today when you reap your first. Talk to them. You will soon find they are nothing like the others you have seen.’

‘But what if I don’t want to?’

‘You are a Valkyrie. Reaping is what we are born to do. You have no choice – it is your destiny.’

Freya looked at her sister and sighed. Maya was beautiful. All four of her sisters were, but Maya was the most enchanting. She was tall and lean with long flaxen hair. The skin on her sculpted face was unblemished and she had the palest pearl-grey eyes in all of Asgard. Her wings were fine-boned with elegant white feathers lying neatly over each other. She was everything a Valkyrie should be, which was why most of the reaped warriors fell instantly in love with her.

Compared to Maya, Freya, the youngest of the five sisters, felt like a plough horse. She wasn’t as tall, beautiful or graceful. Her wings were large and stocky. Their raven-black feathers always looked as if they could use a good grooming. Instead of pearl-grey eyes, Freya’s were dark blue. And although she was the fastest flyer in Asgard, it was always Maya who attracted attention.

But for all their differences, Freya adored her older sister. Many times Freya had watched Maya with envy as she confidently approached the battlefields. Without a trace of hesitation, she reaped the warriors she was assigned to and escorted them back to Valhalla.

‘Don’t you ever question what we do?’

Maya shook her head. ‘We do as we are intended to do. As Odin tells us to.’

‘And if we don’t want to do it?’

Maya put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. ‘Sometimes I wonder if you are even my sister. How can you not want to be a Valkyrie?’

Sitting on her shoulder, Orus whispered in her ear.
‘Stop arguing. Maya cannot understand. Don’t condemn her for that.’

Freya looked into the dark eyes of the raven on her shoulder. Orus was right. No one in Asgard could understand how she felt. At times
she
didn’t even understand it.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally. ‘I guess I’m nervous for today.’

Maya nodded and combed her fine fingers through Freya’s wild, unkempt hair. ‘I understand. Now come, let’s get you prepared for the ceremony – before Odin sends out a Dark Searcher to find us.’

Freya and Orus followed Maya and her raven back to Valhalla. Beneath them, the Great Heavenly Hall was being prepared for her First Day Ceremony. This was to be the final ceremony for some time as there were no Valkyries younger than Freya. Everyone in Asgard wanted this ceremony to be the best ever – everyone except Freya.

In the fields surrounding Valhalla, the reaped warriors who had chosen to remain in Asgard did what they were always doing. Fighting. The clanging sounds of sword upon sword rose up in the air as fighters spent all day battling against each other until night fell. Then they would enter Valhalla and drink and sing – preparing for the next day’s battle.

To Freya, it all seemed so pointless. There were so many other things to see and do. Why these warriors should choose to fight, day in, day out, was something she couldn’t comprehend.

They veered away from Valhalla and flew over the beautiful buildings that made up the main city of Asgard and back to their home. It was a magnificent mansion standing alone on a hill, surrounded by gardens that turned into dense forests.

The Valkyries lived in the most extravagant palaces, and as Freya’s mother was Senior Valkyrie, she had the biggest, most opulent – second only in size and beauty to Odin’s palace.

Landing on the main balcony, they found their mother pacing the large reception room. Shields and weapons of battles throughout the ages adorned the walls and the floor was lined with sheepskin rugs.

Their mother was dressed in her shining silver armour. The feathers on her wings were groomed and bejewelled and her ceremonial dagger was at her waist. Her winged helmet was cast on a chair.

‘Freya!’ she shouted as she charged over. Her ice-blue eyes blazed and her white wings were half open in fury. ‘Where have you been? Do you realize the time? You will be late for your own First Day Ceremony! Odin will be in a rage.’

‘Mother, it’s all right,’ Maya said calmly. ‘Freya and Orus went out for a quick flight and lost track of time. Odin need never know. If you tell him we’re on our way, we’ll be there shortly.’

‘It will take an age to get her prepared,’ her mother ranted. ‘Just look at the state of her, she’s filthy!’ She snatched up a comb and tried to drag it through Freya’s tangled blonde hair. Just look at the state of your feathers! I’m amazed you can even fly . . .’

‘Mother, please,’ Freya begged. She caught the comb as her mother pulled it through a large knot. ‘I can do this. Just give me a bit of time.’

‘Of all my children, you have always given me the most trouble. Your sisters were dressed and ready to leave at sun-up. They’ve already gone to Valhalla to join the honour guard. Don’t you realize how important this is? You are my youngest child and the last Valkyrie. Today, finally, you will join us in the reaping. It is a great honour.’

Freya opened her mouth to protest, but her sister cut in. ‘Of course Freya understands how important it is. We all do. Just give us a moment to prepare and we’ll meet you at the entrance to Valhalla.’

Her mother seemed unconvinced, but nodded as she reached for her winged helmet. ‘Just don’t keep Odin waiting long. You know how impatient he can be.’ Without a backward glance she crossed to the balcony, opened her wings and leaped off.

‘Remember to bow when you approach Odin,’
Orus warned. Well preened, he sat on Freya’s shoulder as they prepared to leave for Valhalla.

Freya nodded her head nervously. ‘I’ll remember.’

Maya put the finishing touches to Freya’s gold and white gown as she flitted around her. ‘And try not to yawn when he gives his speech.’

‘I’ll try. But why does he always have to talk for so long?’

Orus leaned closer to her ear.
‘To hear himself speak!’
The raven started to laugh and caw at his insult to the leader of Asgard.

‘Don’t let Odin hear you say that,’ Maya warned, swatting at him. ‘Orus, you should show more respect – like my Grul.’ Maya reached up and stroked the raven at her shoulder.

‘Don’t try to educate Orus, Maya,’
Grul teased.
‘He’s too thick to learn anything.’

‘Who are you calling thick?’
Orus challenged, cawing loudly and flapping his wings.

‘You,’
Grul answered.

As the two ravens cawed at each other, Maya held up her hand. ‘Enough! When will you two finally get along?’

‘Never!’
the ravens said as one.

Freya reached up and stroked Orus’s smooth black chest. ‘Calm down. He’s just trying to upset you before the ceremony.’

‘He’s doing a fine job of it,’
Orus muttered.
‘One of these days, Freya, I’m going to show that Grul just how clever I really am . . .’

Ignoring the bickering birds, Maya finished fastening a plain gold chain at her sister’s neck. ‘Oh, and try to look interested when Odin tells the story of Frigha.’

‘Oh no, not again,’ Freya moaned. ‘Why does he keep telling us the same old story every time there is a First Day Ceremony? Surely, by now, we all know it.’

‘He tells the story as a warning to all of us,’ Maya said. ‘So no one forgets what happened to the one Valkyrie who defied him and ran away from her duties in Asgard. You remember what happened to her?’

‘How could I forget? Odin had to summon a Dark Searcher to find her. Then he let loose the Midgard Serpent to punish those who helped hide her from him. Half the Earth was destroyed in his rage.’

‘Yes,’ Maya said. ‘And then he cut off her wings and took out her eyes before he banished the Valkyrie from Asgard for all time. She was left to wander the World of Man – blind, alone and flightless. To lose our wings is a fate worse than death.’

‘I know the story,’ Freya said tiredly. ‘You don’t have to remind me.’

‘I’m just saying that Odin will repeat it. You must show him respect and try not to look too bored.’

‘I’ll try.’ Freya inhaled deeply. ‘So how do I look?’

Maya took a step back and surveyed her work. ‘You look beautiful. Not even Mother could find fault.’

Freya grinned and opened her dark wings. Her sister had applied fragrant oils to the feathers that had them shining brightly. In the full sunlight, the black feathers shone with rainbow iridescence.

Freya looked to Orus. ‘Well, what do you think?’

‘You’ll do,’
the raven said casually. He gave her a playful nip on the ear with his polished long beak.
‘Just as long as they don’t look too closely at your fingernails.’
He cawed in laughter and flew off her shoulder towards the balcony.
‘Now, hurry up before they start the ceremony without us!’

Valhalla had been dressed for the ceremony in the most beautiful flowers that grew in Asgard. The high walls had been scrubbed, the spires that rose high into the air all flew the flag of the Valkyries and the weapons adorning the doors had been cleaned and polished. All the grounds surrounding the hall had been groomed. There wasn’t a thing out of place.

Outside the Great Hall, the slain warriors stopped fighting and gathered together along either side of the entrance to greet Freya. As she approached, they all bowed their heads.

‘See, they’re not so bad,’ Maya whispered as she smiled radiantly at the gathered warriors.

Freya wasn’t convinced. ‘Just you wait. The moment we’re inside, they’ll go back to slaughtering each other in the name of amusement.’

Maya sighed. ‘That is the afterlife they have chosen. Why must you condemn them for that?’

‘Because it’s foolish.’

‘It is their choice,’ Maya insisted.

Their mother appeared at the entrance. ‘You’re late,’ she chastised. ‘Everyone is waiting.’