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Writer's pictureLaurel Knight

Valkyrie Fallen, Chapter 17


Brenna
*
It seemed like an absolute lifetime, but eventually the entire longhouse was asleep. Even Bjorn snored lightly, his back to the door.

Drawing breath as silently as I could, conscious to keep my every movement quieter than the crackling fire, I slowly lowered one foot at a time to the packed-earth ground and crept to the door. The good news was that my bed was closest to the door. The bad news: that door was noisy. They didn’t have the benefit of modern tools when they built this place, and the doorframe no longer had ninety-degree corners since the house had settled somewhat during its lifetime. The door, however, remained stubbornly rectangular.

First, I lifted my sword gently from the pegs on the wall. Immediately, a rush of soothing energy spread through me. It was pure stupidity that I hadn’t handled it since I’d been here. I knew I needed the contact to keep me sane; it’s like I was punishing myself by not touching it.

Now, sword in hand, I reached for the latch on the door. Lifting the handle, I slid my sword between the door and the jam, attempting to create space so it didn’t scrape loudly when I pulled it open.

The spirits were with me tonight; the trick worked and the wooden door scarcely made a peep when I opened it. I crept through, waiting for just a moment to ensure no one woke, then pulled the door behind me. I didn’t shut it all the way, just enough so it stuck and wouldn’t move with a light breeze. Hopefully, I’d be able to slip back inside silently when I was done.

My heart danced in my chest, and my feet were swift as I walked around the longhouse to claim my treasure. I had to sneak another peek—just to be sure I wasn’t dreaming—before I shouldered the sack and climbed the hill to the barn.

I didn’t dare take a torch from the hearth, but my eyes adapted quickly and the moon was almost full. However, the interior of the barn was black as pitch. I’d seen some window frames from the backside of the building when I was in the field, so I stumbled my way around an excessively large object to the back wall and, finally locating the first shutter, unlatched and opened it. I moved to the second to let in more light, then turned and gasped in absolute shock at what I saw.

Bjorn was building a ship. An incredibly fine, compact raiding ship. This is what he’d been working on instead of plowing the fields. Given how late into spring we now were, I imagined he was in a panic to finish before the raiding began.

I walked the perimeter of the ship and could find no flaw in the design. He still had a few more planks to attach, and it needed to be sealed, but it was nearly done. It had a nice, deep hull for the deeper waters of the sea between us and the rest of Europe, perhaps even Iceland. There was space for only ten oars and shields, five on each side.

Perhaps this was why it was a secret: my memories were pretty sharp where the ships were concerned, and they were typically much larger than this one.

I wondered why he wanted such a small ship. Was there a strategic advantage I wasn’t seeing?
Like getting struck by a lightning bolt, I remembered my purpose for being in the barn in the first place. My armor!

The legendary warrior maidens of Valkyr were renown throughout the ten realms, back in our time. We gave up the hope of love and families in order to serve as protectors of our world; there was no higher honor. As part of that sacrifice, we took place in a magical ceremony that bound us to our sword and armor for eternity. By imbuing our heart to our sword, we could never use it for evil. By imbuing our soul to our armor, we would live for eternity. 

When Odin stripped us of both, it left him with soulless, heartless shells of women who had lost all the characteristics that made them legendary. When he banished me, he was clever enough to not make that mistake again. He kept my armor—it was by far the most powerful piece, and by keeping it, I was still bound to him—but he allowed me to keep my sword so I wasn’t completely empty inside.

I had my heart, so I could feel how empty it was without my soul.

Now, I finally had them both.

With my heart in my throat, I pulled back the flaps of the woven bag and pulled out the first piece. It was the breastplate, with the collar that attached to my shoulder pieces. Despite over a millennium in Odin’s dungeon, the metal shone as if freshly polished. As soon as my fingertips touched the piece, warmth spread throughout my body in a coursing river of sensation. I held it, let it fill me as much as it was able, then gently set it aside and reached for the next piece.
First the gardbrace for my shoulder, then the rerebrace and vambrace for my sword arm. Then the fauld for my hips, beautifully decorated to match the tasset below; the two cuisses and greaves, and finally the sabatons.

I wasn’t accustomed to don this myself, but I had no other choice. With trembling fingers, I slid out of my cozy wool dress and pulled on the fauld. It was designed as one piece and sort of fit like a pair of metallic underpants, with pieces that rose to protect the soft flesh of my hips and stomach. The air was chilly in the barn, but my armor was warm and comforting to put on, like my favorite pair of worn-in sweatpants back home.

Once I strapped the cuisses and greaves on my thighs and shins, I attached the tassets to the fauld. I’d been putting off the breastplate—it caused a rather dramatic moment—but there was enough room in this barn and my bare breasts were freezing. 

I attached the gardbrace before I put on the breastplate, then pulling in a deep breath, I slid the whole thing over my head and attached the silvery hooks in the back.

A rush of energy flew through my body, beginning at my toes and culminating in pressure along my spine. With a brief burning sensation, my wings erupted in a gust of wind, extending to their full fifteen-foot span and flapping to lift me from my feet before settling back on the ground.

Pure, unadulterated, glowing joy filled every inch of my body. I felt complete for the first time in over a thousand years. Finally. My eyes welled with tears, and I strapped on my rerebrace and vambrace through the blur, chuckling to myself in a slightly delirious level of happiness. I was no longer cold. I was no longer vulnerable. I was no longer thirsty, or depressed, or broken. I was whole.

I tucked my wings as tightly as I was able, reveling in the warmth of soft feathers at my back once more. They were no snowy white dove wings, and that suited me. I was not a perfect, pure person. My wings appeared brown in the darkness, but when lit with the sun on Valkyr, they were astounding. As if made from the precious metals, my feathers were a shimmering bronze, flecked with speckles of gold to complement my silver hair.

I stuck my head out of the barn door, watching for any signs of movement on the farm or nearby under the bright waxing moon. After watching a few moments, I was confident no one was around and I stepped out into the moonlight.

Even though the air had been chilly when I left the longhouse, now it felt like a warm summer breeze wherever the air touched my exposed skin. My sword pulsed joyfully in my palm, and my body, now complete, hummed with the power of the valkyrie. A faint glow, like a dusting of moonlight, lit me from head to foot, and I admired my sparkling body for a moment before I set my sights higher.

Spreading my eager wings, I shot into the air with a single, powerful thrust, tucking my sword into the scabbard on my hip to free my hands completely. In mere seconds, I was so high I’d be only a speck to those on the ground. I soared for the simple joy of it, flipping, spinning, and rolling through the air like a seal in the ocean. Even after so long, my wings hadn’t forgotten me, and I hadn’t forgotten how to fly.

Tears stung my eyes once again; tears of happiness. My heart felt so full, where I had felt so hopeless just hours ago. I had nothing but joy filling every cracked and broken place within me.

I considered trying to go higher and determine where exactly we were, but it would be too difficult to be sure in the night. I might have to sneak a flight at dawn or dusk, where there was enough light to make out landmarks, but not enough for me to be seen by anyone on the ground.

Keeping the mountain ridge against which Bjorn’s farm rested in sight, I indulged myself in joyous flying for another hour before I reluctantly returned to the ground.

In Valkyr we only removed our armor for bathing and sleep, during which it remained in our sight. I would have slept in it if the wings weren’t an inconvenience.

Although it pained me to take it off, having been without it for so long, I knew I possessed it again, and that was the most important piece. It was mine again, and I would not lose it. I removed each piece with care; the warmth remaining in my skin even as I undressed and donned my woolen clothes. Once every item was lovingly stowed in the humble bag, I climbed the loft of the barn and found the most secure spot to stash my treasure behind a surplus of hay.

I returned to the longhouse and slipped back inside undetected, hanging my sword gently back in its place.

As I drifted off to sleep on my padded bench, I could feel the glowing wholeness within my chest, and I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips.



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