Valkyrie Rising

by GR Griffin

  But no matter how badly Silmeria wanted, the dreams denied her. It was perhaps a fitting punishment, doing to her what she had done to him. Frustrated, she stirred enough to move restlessly in place. But she didn't rise from her sleep, the dreams still holding her fast. As if sensing her mounting agitation, they began going backwards, flashing to moments in time that had nothing to do with her life as a newly made vampire.

  She experienced the moment he fed on her, the vampire's strong arms holding her to him. There had been possession in that embrace, one that overpowered any suggestion of tenderness in the moment. But Brahms had been aroused, wild and barely hanging on to his control. Her struggles hadn't helped matters, the pleasure of his bite turning to pain as she fought.

  A flash, and then a different memory came to her. It was one that had always puzzled her. It continued to do that now, to the point some of her lusts slipped away from her, allowing her to examine the memory in depth. And with her study, the memory became more focused, things springing into startling clarity. She saw tall golden stalks of grass, forming a shimmering sea that rippled in the wind. Mountains were in the distance, something that might very well be a dragon soaring about the peaks. Rocky outcroppings lay scattered on the plains, too much distance between them to provide suitable cover from one's enemies.

  It was the back roads of Idavoll, much of this land untouched by the fighting that took up the main expense of the plains. Of the two forces that were so entrenched in the fighting, the Asgardians guarded the back roads almost zealously from the undead. There was reason for this. The roads led to many places, most notably the paradise where the retired warriors spent out their eternity. It was a paradise that deserved protecting, a paradise that would remain free of the taint of the undead. Even as it was being emptied out, the warriors being called upon to help in the battles.

  Since coming to Asgard, Silmeria had not often had the chance to stray far from the battle field. She had of course been on a tour of the realm, all the Valkyries had. All in order to show them what they were fighting for, a memory meant for them to call upon in dire times, all to remind the battle maidens of their reason for continuing this war.

  Never had Silmeria expected to walk those roads with the very enemy she was sworn to destroy. The very fiend who would ruthlessly feed upon the souls who had come to rest in paradise. And yet in that moment, she had been powerless. Her sword lost to her, her hands bound by a strong length of leather. The restraints had been tight, nearly cutting off her circulation. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't break them, the leather enchanted against the Valkyrie's divine strength.

  The confusion she had felt then, was strong even now. Back then Silmeria hadn't understood the motivations behind Brahms' actions. He might not have understood them himself, the vampire agitated by what he had done. It was strange to think of that powerful figure as nervous, but it had been apt description for his unease. Silmeria hadn't been much better, though she had refused to cower due to her upset.

  But the unease had been strong in her, especially with Brahms at her back. He kept her moving. Anytime Silmeria tried to slow her pace, his hand would forcefully guide her forward. He was never so crude as to shove her to the ground, but he wasn't exactly gentle either.

  She bided her time, Silmeria always keeping an eye for an opportunity to escape him. It wouldn't come immediately, even with Brahms pausing constantly to eye the land for any signs of pursuit. It would be a while before the pair would come across either sides of the war, hours going by. Enough time that even Silmeria had tired of maintaining her silence.

  "What do you hope to accomplish in doing this?" Silmeria had demanded. His hand had hesitated on her back, as though Brahms was surprised she had spoken to him. But he didn't offer any answers to her questions, his silence only cementing her suspicions that he was reacting on blind impulse. She hadn't known what those impulse were though, Silmeria not understanding why he hadn't fed from her.

  There was power in a Valkyrie's blood. A power most vampires wouldn't have been able to resist. Brahms himself was notorious for having fed off several Valkryies during his long existence, that power making him flush with new strength and speed. If he had fed from Silmeria that day, Brahms would have had no trouble returning to his camp.

  Silmeria hadn't understood what was holding him back. Any more than she had understood his reasons for coming to Valhalla. If he hadn't meant to kill her, or her King, then it made no sense why he would risk so much to set foot inside the castle. She had replayed the odd meeting in her mind, recalling how Brahms had knocked away her sword, and tried to hold her fast to him.

  He had touched her hair, and actually inhaled her scent. That had been as surprising as it was disturbing, Silmeria not knowing what to make of his actions. Hours would pass before Silmeria would even begin to suspect the true meaning behind his actions. She might even understand them before Brahms did, though it was a knowledge that wouldn't appease Silmeria of her tension.

  But at this moment in the memory, there was only the confusion. Silmeria hadn't like the confusion, might have hated it more than the humiliation of being captured by her enemy. It left her on uncertain ground, Silmeria unsure of what she could expect from the vampire. She would even consider the idea that Brahms was toying with her, though why he would go to such lengths, even that she did not know.

  But he had purposefully sought her out. Waited until she was alone. Silmeria hadn't been at her most vulnerable then, but here on the plains, with her hands bound behind her? She would be an all too easy target for Brahms to kill. And yet he never made a violent move towards her, dragging out what she perceived to be torture of a different kind. As if he wanted her to think about the death that might be coming, as if that would build up her fear, and make what he did to Silmeria all the sweeter for him. It was cruel, and she told him as much.

  Her back had been to him, his hand keeping her from turning to look at Brahms. But Silmeria had heard the in drawn breath he took in response to her accusation. "Cruel?"

  "Yes, cruel!" She had snapped insistently. "If you had any compassion, any sense of honor, you would end this now!" She had made a bitter sound then, near scoffing as she told him, "Oh but how could I forget? You undead have no compassion."

  He hadn't immediately rose to her baiting, his hand urging her forward once more. Silmeria had sneered, though the expression was wasted on him. "You're all unfeeling

  monsters!"

  "You are wrong about that!"

  There had been anger in his voice, stern and disapproving. Silmeria hadn't flinched, practically laughing then. "Oh that's right. You do have some feelings. Ones mired in negativity, ones that inspired your kind to new heights of debauchery and killings!"

  "We feel more than that!" Brahms had said, then snorted. "We certainly feel more than you Valkyrie!"

  She had gasped then, affronted. "What is that supposed to mean?!"

  "Cold and proud, the Valkyries find solace in nothing but the battle. You are without mercy to those who stand against your King, cutting down all who dare cross weapons with you. You are as fearless as you are unfeeling, a stagnant existence."

  She had seethed with rage then, badly wishing her hands were free. If she could have, Silmeria would have struck him then. "You are wrong." She had said out loud. Silmeria had shook her head for good measure, as though that was proof against his claims. "We feel...we care..."

  "What do you feel?" Brahms had challenged her. "Save for disgust and loathing of your enemies?!"

  "That's not all I feel!" Her voice had burst out, more passionate than she had ever remembered hearing. "I know love..." He had snorted then. "I love my sisters...and they love me! The bond of my family is something you can never take from me, never diminish or destroy no matter your efforts!" She struggled against his grip, wanting to turn and face him in the moment.

  "It is that love that kept me quiet at the castle." Her gaze had locked with his, the instant he had allowed her to turn. "It
is that same love that allows me to risk myself in order to allow my sisters to go on living. I would and HAVE done anything to spare them. Even if I must go to my grave at your hands, I will die satisfied that they live on."

  "Even if their lives are extended only by a few more hours?" Brahms had asked.

  "My sacrifice would be worth it, even if it gave them only a few more minutes. Life is precious, especially theirs." Silmeria had retorted, the ring of truth to her words. "So vampire, do your worst. You will not make me regret my choice, you simply have no power over me in that regard."

  "Keep moving." He had then ordered gruffly, hand pushing at her shoulder. Silmeria had turned in compliance, but didn't silence her voice.

  "I suppose it is something you cannot hope to understand. This love I feel. The drive it gives me. It is strong, might possibly be the strongest force in the realms. Certainly it is stronger than any wickedness you could do."

  "Such devotion is to be commended." He had murmured from behind her. "I hope your sisters truly recognize how fortunate they are, to have one such as you as their family."

  "It is nothing that they would not do for me." Silmeria had told him.

  "If that is true, than it is admirable. But also a pity, for it makes you three weak to those who would capitalize on the opportunities that loves would give them."

  "Love is never to be pitied." She had retorted. "It makes us strong in new ways, makes life worth living."

  "And yet you are weary." She had been startled at that, not understanding how he could make that deduction. "Oh don't try to pretend it's not true. I have seen your eyes Valkyrie. Seen the tired look in them."

  "What would you know of it?" Silmeria had demanded.

  "I have lived for a long time. Far longer than you. I have seen that kind of look in many eyes. It is a telling look, revealing more than a guarded soul would want." Brahms had explained.

  She was taken aback. "Oh?" She had asked then. "And what does that look tell you about me?"

  He would turn quiet, considering his answer carefully. They would continue to walk, the back roads empty of all but their presence. Enough time would go by that Silmeria's doubts about what he said would continue, the Valkyrie ready to scoff and dismiss his claims.

  "It tells me..." His voice had been a soft rumble, Brahms speaking as though he knew she would not like what he had to say. "You are tired of the endless fighting. Tired of eternity stretching out with no grander purpose in mind for you. You want to matter Valkyrie. And deep down you know so long as you remain Odin's soldier, you will not. None of you will."

  Any snide remark she could have made had died in her throat. And all because the vampire had hit on private feelings that had often disturb her, whether she be on the battlefield, or alone in bed. It was frightening that a stranger could read the truth of her dissatisfaction. A dissatisfaction she hadn't even made known to her sisters, not even her dear Lenneth who might have understood better than Hrist ever could.

  Silence would stretch between them, Brahms patient as he waited for her response. She couldn't give one to him immediately, her thoughts racing and wild. "This war will never end." She had finally said. Frustration bloomed in her words. "At least not while I am still live." Silmeria had been sure her life would be ended this night, her true purpose never found.

  "Neither side is even close to a victory. The curtain will not close on this farce, not so long as the driving forces behind it still live." Brahms had said. "The Valkyies waste their eternity fighting." She hadn't been able to deny it, even as she knew that some more than others enjoyed the battle. Certainly her sisters preferred the fighting to the alternative, neither one wanting to be given away to some man.

  "Valkyrie..." Brahms voice would interrupt her thoughts. "Have you not ever thought of throwing away your sword?" She might have gasped then, the thing he had asked practically sacrilegious to her. He would ask even worse things, Silmeria would shake her head in wild denial, even as a voice whispered temptations inside her. "Leaving the battle, turning your back on the fighting?"

  "And what point would there be to that?" Silmeria has asked, tone defiant.

  "You would be able to find some reason to live. A reason to be HAPPY. A reason to be satisfied with your life!" His voice had risen with each word, frustration blooming in his harsh shout. She hadn't understood why he would even care, or why he would waste time on asking her these things when he surely intended to kill her before the night was through.

  "Odin would NEVER allow it." It wasn't a true answer to his question, Silmeria avoiding the traitorous impulse that whispered to her their agreement of Brahms' suggestions. "As long as I can fight, as long as I am able, my place is here in Asgard." She had paused a moment, then turned to look at him. "It might be different if your kind would call a ceasefire to this war..."

  "That is another thing Odin would never allow." Brahms had told her. "You know as well as I that he will not be content until every last vampire is wiped out of existence. And my people? My people will not make it easy for him to do that. We will not lay down and go quietly to our extermination."

  She would not go quietly either, Silmeria staring at him a long moment. His crimson eyes had bored into her, Brahms seeming almost as weary as he had accused Silmeria of being. She had wondered then if he had a purpose beyond the near mindless killing the undead so enjoyed doing. Wondered if he fought for more than the prevention of wiping out all remnants of his kind.

  Abruptly she had turned, not liking that she had these thoughts. He was causing her to doubt, to make her wonder if there was something beyond the undead's joy of killing any and all they came across. Never had she thought in terms of them fighting for their own survival. And never had she thought they might have a right to cling to their pathetic existence.

  He stirred in her the kind of doubts that might earn her punishment from Lord Odin. Even worse, the doubts might make her clumsy, vulnerable even as she fought the undead. Silmeria couldn't afford to think of them as anything but monsters, could never allow herself to think of the vampires as a separate entity from the other creatures that made up the undead ranks.

  The mountains were still far in the distance. They had made little progress pausing like this to talk. Brahms hand would touch her once more, urging her to move forward once more. Silmeria didn't want to. He could kill her now for all she cared. It would be preferable to bringing her back to his camp, and allowing many of the undead to feed off her blood and flesh.

  "Silmeria!" Brahms would actually growl out her name, impatience the chief emotion in his tone. She had been holding her ground, refusing to take even one step further.

  "No. I will not go any further." She had announced. "You will just have to kill me now." Silmeria had prepared herself for the blow that would follow that announcement, expecting him to sink his fangs viciously into her neck. Both his hands would grab her bound arms, claws digging into her delicate skin. She had thought he was holding her still for his bite, but it never came. Instead his voice rasped in her ear, low, dangerous, and ever so enraged.

  "You little fool."

  Silmeria hadn't bothered to be outraged. Instead she would take advantage of his nearness to drive herself back. Her head would slam into his face, Brahms letting out grunt of pain. She thought she heard the crunch of bones, Silmeria wondering if she had broken his nose. But even as she wondered that, she was bringing down her metal encased feet, stamping on both of his.

  Brahms' grip would loosen, Silmeria wresting free and turning. Her leg would lash out, foot high enough to catch him in the face. He fell back from her, and she didn't pursue the attack. Not with her hands bound by enchanted restraints, and having no sword to take his head.

  Growling, he had a hand over his face, fingers feeling for the damage she had done. Silmeria's assessment would take only a moment, and then she was running from him. He would scream, sounding further enraged.

  "Valkyrie!"

  But there had been little chance of Silme
ria stopping. Silmeria had been sure she heard her death in his voice, the battle maiden running even faster. Pity for her it was in the wrong direction, her flight taking her further from Valhalla. But a most formidable foe had stood between her and the path that led back to the castle. And unlike Silmeria, Brahms had no need of a sword to kill her.

  The tall stacks of grass would brush against her waist, Silmeria running without pausing to look over her shoulders. She hadn't a chance of getting away, even with the spells that blocked his teleportation ability. But that hadn't really been her reason for attacking him. She had simply been tired of delaying her death, in second guessing when and how he would deliver the final blow. A part of her was just mad, wanting to make it a struggle before he killed her.

  She would hear the footsteps behind her, the grass stirring with Brahms' charge. He had recovered enough to give chase, and it would be by a large outcropping of rocks that he would catch her.

  Silmeria wouldn't quite scream, feeling his hands grab her by the arms. Their forward momentum would drive them towards the rocks, Silmeria realizing she was about to slam face first in them. Would being knocked unconscious be a mercy or a curse?

  At the last possible second, Brahms flipped her to face him. It didn't stop them from hitting the largest of the rock formations, Silmeria's voice being forced out of her with a cry. Her back throbbed with pain, her armor had not been enough to cushion her against the stone. She could remember feeling humiliated that she had given that cry, her anger manifesting in a glare.

  He had been glaring too, lips curled back in a snarl. She could see his fangs, and they were long and glistening like pearl. Silmeria had thought she had finally succeeded in driving him to bite her, but she hadn't closed her eyes, wanting to face death head on. A part of her had been scared, but that fear was swallowed by the defiance she had felt.