Valkyrie Rising (33 page)

They were dressed alike, all in black, with the same fur-trimmed leather boots—the soles were heavy enough to serve as weapons in their own right. But that was where the resemblance ended. Each Valkyrie was unique, with varying shades of hair and skin and height.

“Oh, shit,” Margit whispered, retreating to stand behind me. Like I’d be able to protect either of us. Yet nothing could have more aptly articulated the terror raging through the fishermen and shopkeepers who’d been stupid enough to put their faith in me. All courage and hope vaporized on contact, with the earth-shattering, annihilating finality of a nuclear explosion.

But just as the panic threatened to carry me off to its cave, another presence asserted itself in my mind. The violent voice was back. Only this time it was commanding me forward with cold, brutal logic. Because it was too late to back out now. We’d never get a second chance. The desperation in the people who followed me tore into my heart, but then I realized it was because they didn’t know what to do next. They wanted to stay, they wanted to press forward and risk everything. But they were scared. They needed reassurance and an infusion of strength. They needed a leader.

Me.

“Stand your ground.” I pushed my voice until it cracked, needing it to wash over the farthest reaches of the crowd. “Remember who is at stake. Picture his face. Know that we’re bringing them all back.” And then I did something even I didn’t expect. My voice turned to ice as I added, “The Vals don’t believe in what they’re doing anyway. They won’t stop us.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed with a rage so hot it would melt a diamond, but I stared her right back down.

“You won’t,” I said, realizing the truth of it as the words skipped across my tongue. “Why else would you keep letting me live? I think part of you is relieved I’m here.”

A few wisps of newly minted courage drifted back to me on the breeze. So I stood up straighter, taking a step toward Astrid and ignoring the thunderclaps of my beating heart.

“I’m afraid we’re not open for visitors,” Astrid said coolly, belying the fury I could feel radiating from her skin. Her lips twisted into a brittle smile as they drifted over the townspeople. “And there was a reason we left these people behind. They’re useless. Our discards. What an utter cruelty to give them this false hope. You know I can’t let you pass.”

Her words triggered a ripple of jeers and protests. The crowd behind me pressed closer, drawn forward by the danger we now shared. Even the stragglers who’d watched from shop doorways or car windows now approached, joining the mob. The old lady from the bakery lifted her cane into the air and shook it at Astrid. She was fully ready to slam it into Astrid’s toes just like she had mine. I never would have dreamed she’d be standing behind me one day, ready to fight.

“Can’t?” I replicated Astrid’s tone of pure scorn. “You can do whatever you want, Astrid. It’s time to stop blaming Odin for your choices.”

My imminent demise flashed across Astrid’s face.

Her hand exploded into my peripheral vision, moving toward me, only I saw the blow coming this time. And I was ready. My forearm flew up, almost of its own volition, colliding with Astrid. For a moment, we stood there, locked in a contest of brute strength, until Astrid’s lips curled into a slow smile and she took one long step back, away from me.

“What do you think would happen if I stepped aside? Do you really plan to lead this herd of fishermen against Odin? On his own turf?” Astrid’s voice drifted over the crowd, echoing off the shops and through the deserted side streets of Skavøpoll.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t just step aside,” I said, surprising myself as the pieces of my plan finally slid completely together. “I was hoping you would join us.”

The words dangled in the air between us like they were strung up on a gallows.

“No!” a man shouted. “Are you insane?” The shout echoed down the street, followed by a few catcalls.

“Elsa is right, Astrid,” a familiar voice said. “She’s doing what you should have done. Standing up to Odin.”

The words came from a statuesque, blond-haired Valkyrie who stepped forward, appearing all at once, like the others had, in the middle of the street.

It took me shamefully long to recognize my grandmother. And when I did, I stared in openmouthed disbelief. A hush fell over the crowd as they placed her too. Even those from other towns had at least glimpsed her over the years, the beautiful, eccentric old lady from Skavøpoll. Only now she was half a century younger than when I’d last seen her. Her hair was a pale blond; all traces of silver were gone. The few wrinkles that had once framed her eyes and lined her forehead had disappeared without a trace.

“How did you get here?” Astrid snapped, growling low in her throat. I recognized the way her shoulders tensed, preparing to strike. Only there was a hesitation this time. Wariness.

Astrid was afraid of my grandmother.

“It seems I’ve kept a few friends, even after all these years,” Grandmother said cryptically, even as the look she cast toward Astrid’s band of Valkyries made me wonder if one of them had risked Astrid’s wrath and released her. “We collect and lead the dead, Astrid. Not the living.”

“Who brought her here?” Astrid demanded, her eyes piercing each member of her squad in turn. “I’d hate to think one of my loyal sisters disobeyed me.”

“I brought her.” The brunette Valkyrie I recognized from my skirmish in Bergen shifted anxiously on her feet, but she looked Astrid square in the eye as she said, “Hear Hilda and the girl out. I agree with them.”

“See, Astrid, she too is doing what you should have done.” My grandmother laid one hand gently on the brunette’s arm. “She’s questioning her leader when she knows her leader is wrong.”

“How dare you?” Astrid growled, shifting to the balls of her feet as if she would lunge forward at any moment. “Don’t you dare judge me for things I can’t control. You left us too weak to stop Odin when you abandoned us—and your responsibilities.”

“I’ve been right here this whole time, Astrid. Watching,” Grandmother said softly. “I came back when you needed me. I never gave up my responsibilities. I just changed the way I upheld them. Because I have competing priorities now.” Her eyes met mine, unleashing a ripple of pride that threatened to burst right out of me.

“Now it’s your turn to reevaluate your priorities,” Grandmother continued. “Because whatever spell Odin was under all those centuries, slumbering away, has driven him mad. And you can bet Loki planned it that way. So he could humiliate Odin, as he’s tried to do so many times before. Do you really want Odin to start a war you know he can’t win? And even if he could win, do you really think we should return the world to the old ways?”

Murmurs erupted in the crowd, until above the din, a man shouted, “No! Stop him and bring our boys back.”

The other Valkyries looked from Grandmother to Astrid and back to Grandmother again, visibly unsure who to side with. But I could tell by the way their eyes lingered a few seconds longer on Grandmother that their loyalty was shifting.

Astrid had a frown on her face that reminded me of how I felt around Graham, when I was once again being shown how young and inferior I was. And I felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy.

“I can’t stop him,” Astrid spat. “He won’t listen. But that doesn’t mean I’ll betray him. Not all of us cast aside our oaths as easily as you have, Hilda.”

Grandmother looked away, a troubled crease appearing between her eyebrows. “I did what was right,” she said, but her words were weighed down with regrets I couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“But there are other, older promises you’ve made, Astrid,” I said, picking up the thread of the argument. “Even I can tell that the connection between all of us is far stronger than any fleeting promises you made to Odin. And that’s just after a few days of knowing what I am. You disagree with Odin. You belong with us, not with him. If I can feel it, I know you can.”

Grandmother stepped up beside me, her resolve strengthened by my words.

Astrid watched me in that cold, dismissive way she had. But she looked almost longingly at Grandmother’s hand as it curled gently around my shoulder. I couldn’t give up just yet.

“In Bergen, you told me that I couldn’t stop Odin because you’d failed,” I pressed on. “You were right. Alone, I
don’t
stand a chance. But now, together, all of us—with you—we can do it. Odin doesn’t stand a chance against us if we’re united.”

As Grandmother approached Astrid, one hand extended, Astrid’s expression hardened into a look I recognized as resolve. She’d made up her mind. I braced myself for whatever that decision might be.

But before Grandmother could reach her, the ground beneath us began to rumble, rattling windows and setting off a car alarm. A low, throaty chuckle rocked the earth until my bones rattled. “It seems Hilda’s power can’t be diluted. Even after two generations.” It was a deep, disembodied voice that pulled at the newly discovered corners of my mind. But this was different from the way Astrid and the others made me feel, as if we were sharing a collective awareness of the world around us. This new force felt like it was sucking away my strength. And my will to stand up to it.

Odin.

I knew it was him. The recognition was hardwired into my bones.

The people gathered in the street began to scatter, running toward the trees or the boats bobbing in the water, crowding under awnings and in doorways, as if there was a way to take cover against a force with this kind of power.

“Odin is coming,” my grandmother said as she looked up the road. “Stand together. He’ll try to drain our strength. It’s the only way he can keep control of his soldiers.”

Astrid’s fingers curled around my wrist and sent a jolt of warmth up my arm, building toward the numbing heat I’d felt all those days ago in the bar with Kjell, when she’d put her finger to my forehead. Startled, I tried to shake off her hand. “Stop resisting me,” she snapped. “You want to stop Odin? Let me in.”

I didn’t know what she meant, but then the connection that was always snapping at the edges of my consciousness suddenly reached out and wrapped me in its arms.

There was a ripple of satisfaction as Astrid’s decision spread among the other Valkyries. Their silent allegiance shifted, leaving Odin and locking in on Skavøpoll. They’d defend the town and the people gathered in the street at any cost.

Margit took a step forward, choosing her place in the front, right in the middle of the road. She may not have been a Valkyrie, but she was one brave girl. I smiled, fiercely proud to have her standing with us.

It was a grave tactical error that Astrid had been so focused on collecting boys, when the girls in this town were more than twice as worthy.

Other people followed Margit’s lead, breaking away from their hiding places and making their way back to us cautiously, sticking to the shadows of the buildings. A group of kids climbed up onto the top of a delivery van to get a better view.

I could taste the fear in the air, see it in Margit’s trembling hand and quivering upper lip, even as she stood straight and tall.

An uneasy silence settled over the town. Seconds ticked past until my muscles ached with eagerness to act.

Then my grandmother went rigid at my side. Not with shock, or fear, but with readiness. A man appeared, emerging from a mist that hadn’t been there an instant earlier.

None of the other impossible things I’d seen over the last few days had prepared me for my first sight of Odin. He was massive and thickly muscled, with a broad chest and shoulders, like a rodeo bull. A gruesome network of crisscrossing scars covered his neck and arms. I couldn’t believe anyone could survive so many wounds—if he had even been alive in the traditional sense. And when I looked into his lifeless eye, I definitely doubted it. I shuddered, imagining what was underneath the patch secured over the eye he’d traded for wisdom.

“Impressive,” he said, letting his gaze drift over the town. “Winning my Valkyries back right under my nose. A simple, elegant plan.” That merciless eye scanned the crowd until it landed on me, seeming to rake through my very soul.

“It’s not often someone marches against me.” He said it mildly, saving all his malice for his next words. “It’s never.”

Somehow that wasn’t a surprise. Icicles were forming in my blood, crystallizing along my spine. “We don’t want to fight you,” I told him, somehow managing to control my terror.

“I don’t negotiate,” Odin growled.

Astrid’s hand tightened around my wrist. “Stop talking.”

It was too late. Odin had me in his crosshairs. “You will be an example. To them. This world. Of what happens when you challenge Odin.”

“I’m not challenging you,” I said, my voice cracking. “We just—we just want the living soldiers back.”

“Are you certain?” Odin’s lips curled into an inhumanly cold smile as he surveyed the crowd behind me. “That would be a fitting punishment indeed.”

“Odin, don’t do this,” Astrid said. Her voice held an edge of desperation I never wanted to hear coming from someone so strong. “It’s too cruel.”

My heart stopped beating. Astrid’s threshold for cruel was as high as the moon. Something monstrous was about to happen.

“You have no right to address me,” Odin snapped at Astrid. “You surrendered your position when you sided with the deserter.” His eyes shot pure, unadulterated malice right at Grandmother. “You’ve forgotten, too—you’ve all forgotten the old ways.
Our
way. Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” Odin inclined his head, and a breeze drifted in off the fjord, carrying with it the scent of pine trees and the crisp, clean air from the glaciers.