Silent Shield

by S. T. Bende

  “Augh!” My blade struck an invisible wall. The impact reverberated up my arm, rocking my bones to their very core. The pressure built in my wrist until I released my grip on my sword. It flew in the air as I dropped to the ground.

  My shoulder struck the cobblestones with a painful crack. Pain shot up my neck, and I rolled my head to one side as my blade glinted overhead. It spiraled downward in a terrifyingly fast trajectory. I was about to be impaled by my own weapon! My arm moved instinctively, lifting my shield to cover my body. The world around me slowed to a standstill as I curled into a ball and prayed that the sword wouldn’t pierce my protection.

  This was not how I wanted to die.

  Thwack!

  The clang of metal on metal was followed by a resounding thump. Footsteps pounded just beside my head, and a warm hand reached down to pull me up. “Come on, Shieldmaiden. You’ve got to move.”

  “Axel!” I blinked at my avenging assassin. “What did—”

  “I knocked your blade into the next lawn.” He pointed with his broadsword. “It was about to do you wrong. So I—”

  “Thanks.” I ran across the grass and retrieved my wayward weapon. When I turned around, our assailant—and our teammates—were gone. “Skit!”

  “Janna and Torstein are fine—they’re fighting the stream.” Axel jogged toward the cliff. I adjusted my shield and ran after him. “But it’s winding between the bungalows. We aren’t sure where it’s—”

  “The vault!” Torstein’s cry echoed across the compound.

  My eyes locked in on Axel’s. Oh, gods.

  Without a word, we took off at a sprint. The vault was home to some of our most treasured relics—nine of them, to be exact. If it was breached, and the crystals exposed . . .

  My feet flew across the cobblestones. A burn erupted in my chest as I rounded the corner and drew a sharp breath. Janna and Torstein stood in front of the bungalow nearest the cliff. The black stream arched up before them. It swayed back and forth like a cobra ready to strike. Janna swiped valiantly at its base while Torstein sent ball after ball of fiery, blue sparks at its head. But the attacks were futile. The black tube slammed into them, driving them onto their backs and pushing its way through the bungalow’s wooden door.

  The vault was in there. If that monster got inside it . . .

  I raced forward, reaching the entrance in ten swift strides. While I ran, I trained my eyes on the door. The smoke swept inside, coiling around the obelisk that guarded the entrance to the vault. It molded itself into a mist and pelted the pillar before sinking slowly to the ground.

  Did it actually get in there?

  I pulled Janna to her feet and called over my shoulder to Torstein. “We’re in trouble.”

  “Did it—”

  “The intruder went down the shaft,” I confirmed. Then I turned to our light mage. “I thought it was coded so it only opened for you. Well, for you and me, but that’s—”

  “It is.” Torstein activated the light in his palms. He tossed a sharp, blue shard between his hands as he stepped into the bungalow. “This could be a trap. But if it’s not . . . and if that thing has gotten to the crystals . . .”

  “How do we get there first?” Axel asked.

  “Ingrid,” Torstein said. “Activate the entry.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Do it.”

  With a nod, I transferred my sword to my shield hand. Then I lifted my palm to the obelisk, gritted my teeth, and waited for the pain.

  It was prompt, swift, and unrelenting.

  “Oh my gods.” I cried out as the burn seeped into my palm. My hand melded into the rune of Tyr, our war god. It pulled me closer even as I instinctively pulled back. The stone’s surface softened, and as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone. It had only been illusory—a protection Torstein had created to ward off intruders. But the sensation hadn’t seemed to slow the smoke-snake. And if that thing was down there . . .

  The stone released its hold on my hand. I quickly stepped backward as the obelisk lowered itself to the ground, revealing a small, round opening in the floor. It was barely wide enough to fit our shields, and I toyed with the idea of leaving mine behind. But as my brain flashed on the memory of my near death-by-impaling, I quickly rejected that plan. We’d need every tool at our disposal if we were going to stay alive down there . . . and we had to stay alive to stop our mysterious assailant from destroying everything we’d worked to protect.

  “I’m going in,” I announced.

  “I’m right behind you.” Axel followed me down the narrow, winding staircase that led to the basement vault. When we reached the lower level, we paused to assess our surroundings.

  “Stone hallway lit by wall candles,” Axel said softly. “No foreign presences detected.”

  “Janna and Torstein descending the staircase.” I glanced over my shoulder. “No offshoot rooms, except the vault straight ahead.”

  “That must be where the assailant is,” Axel said.

  We crept slowly forward. We’d only made it five steps before Axel raised a closed fist. “Wait.”

  “What is it?” I paused mid-step.

  “Wind. Do you feel it?”

  I lifted my chin and peered over my shoulder. Sure enough, a light breeze swept down the staircase. It brushed against my cheeks, lifting my hair as it swirled around me in an invisible spiral.

  “Oh, skit. Get down, Shieldmaiden!” Axel threw himself into me. He pivoted as he fell, rotating so his body shielded mine from the impact. His back cracked against the stone floor a split second before I landed on his chest with a dull thud. Immediately, Axel rolled on top of me. He covered my body with his as a biting wind swept along the hallway. The icy breeze pushed past my bare arms and sent a wave of goose bumps rippling across my flesh.

  “It’s the stream!” Janna shouted.

  Footsteps charged along the hallway. Axel pushed himself off of me, then offered his hand to help me up. I jumped to my feet. We stood side by side, swords drawn, and ready to fight. The stream hit Janna and Torstein, slamming each of them into the wall. It swirled spastically in its quest to reach the vault’s wooden door.

  It’s so strong . . .

  “I’ve got it.” Axel lowered his head and lifted his sword. He looked ready to charge.

  But as quickly as it had come, the stream turned back around. It blew through the hallway, pushing me into Axel. Then it swept up the stairs and out of the bungalow.

  What. The. Actual. Helheim?

  “Check on the crystals,” I shouted.

  Torstein jumped up. He rushed to the wooden door and carefully unlocked it. When he pushed it open, a surge of blue light illuminated the corridor.

  “One, two, three . . . they’re all there.” Torstein clicked the door closed behind him. “It didn’t take anything. Didn’t even try to breach this door. Why would . . .”

  Janna leaned back against the stone wall. “What was that thing?”

  “And why did it come this far only to turn around?” Axel stepped closer to me. He scanned my body before letting his gaze settle on my face. “You okay?”

  “Never better,” I said easily. “You?”

  “A little bruised but fine.” Axel jutted his chin at Torstein and Janna. “You two?”

  “We’re okay,” Janna confirmed. “Just . . . confused.”

  “I don’t understand.” Torstein locked the door to the vault. “Why did it leave? And what was it?”

  “And how did it breach the compound’s barriers?” I asked. “I thought this was the safest place in Los Angeles.”

  Torstein ran one hand through his hair. “It was. It is,” he corrected. “But until we know more, I’ll double down on my protections. And reset the locks on this place.”

  He walked unsteadily along the hallway.

  “I thought the stream had breached the obelisk,” I said. “But it didn’t come down until after we did. Right?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Torstein’s
normally smooth hair stood in wild disarray, and his serene demeanor had been replaced by trembling hands. “For the first time in a long time, I have no idea what’s happening.”

  Janna and I exchanged worried looks. If our calm, collected light mage was shaken, we were really in trouble.

  Whatever was happening, we needed to get to the bottom of it.

  Fast.

  Chapter 5

  ON MONDAY EVENING, IT was business as usual at Kappa Mu. It was time for our weekly Monday night dinner—a tradition in which each sorority and fraternity gathered for a family-style meal while roaming groups of pledges, club representatives, and members of the student government went from house to house to make their announcements. Sometimes it was frustrating to have a meal interrupted by a chorus of singing frat boys. And, of course, more efficient methods of communication existed. But the custom had worked its way into my heart. I was going to miss it when we left Los Angeles . . . if we left Los Angeles.

  Stop it, Ingrid. The mission is well under control.

  Sure, it was. Snort.

  The night started out like any other. Janna, Brigga and I slipped into our little black dresses and walked down the winding staircase that led to the first-floor foyer.

  “Whoa,” Brigga whispered as she rounded the bend. “That thing is huge.”

  I took another step and spotted the behemoth. Yikes.

  “It’s nearly as big as the tree in the castle,” I whispered back. I peered over the railing to study the enormous Christmas tree standing proudly in the entry. Our housemates had spent most of the weekend decking the halls—filling every corner of Kappa Mu with trees big and small, multiple menorahs, and a bounty of boughs of holly. The main display—the one that would greet visitors as they walked through the door, and that was currently filling my nostrils with pine and cranberries—included a fourteen-foot, pink-and-gold-ribboned tree framed by two draped tables. The first was swathed in shimmering, blue and silver tablecloths, and covered in elegant, candle-laden menorahs. The second held a cornucopia of fruits and nuts, which circled a display of green, red and black candles. Strings of paper snowflakes stretched across the walls along with rows of fairy lights, which illuminated the space in a warm glow.

  “They take their holidays very seriously here,” Janna said.

  I smoothed the skirt of my dress as I cleared the staircase and entered the wreath-covered dining room. “I’ll say.”

  “Hey, Norway!” Meri stood behind one of the big, round tables near the front of the room. Kayla, Devyn, and Ali looked up with warm smiles. “Come sit with us. We’re planning a holiday dinner to celebrate all of the cultures within Kappa Mu, and we’d love to hear about the winter traditions you have back home.”

  Oh gods! I arched my brow at Janna as we claimed empty seats at the officers’ table. Which traditions had survived the past one thousand years?

  “Well . . .” I spread my napkin across my lap. “We, uh, we celebrate lots of thing.”

  It was true. From Odin to nature to Jesus, Valkyrians worshipped pretty much across the board. And between Solstice and Christmas, winter was prime celebrating season.

  “But what’s your favorite tradition?” Kayla passed me a plate of chicken. “Like for us, the village my mom was born in has a huge snow festival every winter. So we always go up to our cabin in Big Bear and do a snow blessing. And we call the hot tub our onsen because, well, why not?”

  “And my family celebrates Hanukkah with all my aunts and uncles in Santa Barbara,” Devyn offered. “We have a latke competition—best recipe wins bragging rights for the entire year. I am going to crush my cousin this time around. Ali gave me a tip about—well, I can’t tell you what I’m putting into my latkes. You might tell Rachel.”

  “For the hundredth time, we do not know your cousin.” Meri shook her head. “My family makes Norsk waffles and lefse, obviously.”

  “Obviously,” I agreed. Gods, I missed Norwegian flatbread.

  “And lussekatt buns for Saint Lucia—Saint Lucy’s Day,” Meri continued.

  “You celebrate that now? Er, uh, here?” Brigga asked.

  “Of course. It’s one of my favorite traditions.” Meri forked a potato, and brought it to her mouth.

  “Mine too!” Brigga’s eyes lit up. “It’s a huge honor to be chosen to play Lucy. I got to do it when I was twelve.”

  “So did I!” Meri finished chewing. “Our school always did a big procession, since so many of the families in our town—state, really—are Scandinavian. And when we were finished, we’d go to the retirement home next to our campus, and the residents would sing ‘Sankta Lucia’ to us. It was fun.”

  “What’s Saint Lucy Day?” Ali asked.

  “It’s a holiday that blends elements of the Winter Solstice with Christianity,” Brigga explained. “It marks the importance of bringing light into a dark world, and involves candles, songs, and lots of good food.”

  “That sounds really nice,” Kayla said. “What was Lucy the saint of?”

  “Of light,” Brigga said. “She was a young girl who brought food to people who were homebound. She wore a wreath of candles on her head, which kept her hands free to carry more supplies.”

  “She was taken prisoner, and her captors tried to burn her,” Janna added. “But she was so good, and so full of light, the fire refused to touch her. Ultimately, she was stabbed.”

  “That’s awful.” Kayla winced.

  “Yeah, well, she’d dedicated herself to God—which, of course, upset the guy who wanted to marry her.” Meri shook her head. “Men just do not understand when a woman has other priorities. My father would much rather I just get married than go to medical school. But who says I can’t do both?”

  “You’re going to be a healer?” I asked.

  “A surgeon,” Meri said proudly. “I just got into the program here at So Cal State. Since I’ll be a local alumna, maybe I can be our interim house mother if Gertrude ever takes a vacation.”

  “Good luck.” Devyn snorted. “Gertrude never travels.”

  I turned to Devyn. “What about you? You graduate in the spring too, right?”

  “Yup.” Devyn put down her water glass. “I’ve been interning with a publicist for the past two years. They’re going to hire me as a junior team member in June.”

  “It’s a huge deal,” Ali enthused. “Devyn’s company handles the top celebrities in Hollywood. Actors, musicians, that one really big politician who’s also directing a movie . . .”

  “I’m excited.” Devyn’s cheeks pinked. “And Ali’s going to get her MBA. When do you hear back from that big fancy school back east?”

  “Decisions go out in a few weeks.” Ali held up her crossed fingers. “If the Ivy League passes, there’s always the West Coast. Though my parents will be crushed.”

  “You’ll get into a great program, wherever it is,” Kayla promised. “I believe in you.”

  “Aw, thanks K.” Ali grinned. “And this time next year you’ll be teaching kindergarten, and married, and—”

  “I’m not even engaged,” Kayla objected.

  “You’re practically engaged,” Ali pointed out. “Promised to be pinned, which, in the Greek community, is engaged to be engaged. It’s pretty much a done deal.”

  “Well . . .” Kayla blushed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “It sounds like women can do pretty much anything here.” Janna put down her fork.

  “Of course.” Kayla tilted her head. “Are things different in Norway?”

  Janna shot me a look. The truth was, things were different in our Norway. In most of the north, women were afforded very few rights. Viking-era women could own land and ask for divorces, but we were hardly going out and influencing politics or working as healers. Those of us lucky enough to live in Valkyris—where everyone was equal, and anyone, regardless of gender, could pursue the vocation of their choosing—worked to introduce our lifestyle to the rest of the territories. But minds were slow to change, and we’d made little headway
during my brief tenure as a shieldmaiden. It was good to know that things would eventually shift for the better—even if it was a thousand years in the future.

  I wonder what happens between my now and theirs?

  “Things are a little different in Norway,” Janna answered Kayla’s question. “But, you know, every region is unique.”

  “What Janna means is that the smaller towns are less progressive,” Brigga said smoothly. I exhaled. Of course our disseminator had read up on contemporary norms. “But in the bigger cities, naturally, women pursue a variety of careers.”

  “Everyone should get to follow their passion,” Kayla said earnestly.

  “Agreed,” Janna said.

  As shieldmaidens, we literally fought for that right every single day.

  “Ooh, the last group is here!” Kayla dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. She turned her attention to the girls who’d lined up at the front of the dining room. They wore various patterns of red and green, and they stood with their hands clasped in front of their waists. Kayla rang the bell beside her plate, and with a cheerful, “Quiet, everyone!” she brought the room to silence. “Go ahead, ladies.”

  The brunette at the end of the row cleared her throat. “We’re pledges from Gamma Alpha Psi, and we’re here to invite you to our Christmas Cookie Bakeoff and Bake Sale.”

  The girls burst into a cheerful song, the lyrics of which outlined their favorite types of cookies, the prizes up for grabs, and the virtues of the charity their event would benefit—the Los Angeles Battered Women’s Shelter. When they’d finished, Kayla promised full Kappa Mu support. Then we filed out of the dining room to freshen up before our chapter meeting. My heart tugged as I watched my “sisters” make their way up the stairs to their rooms. Each woman was fully invested in doing what she could to make her world a better place. They’d joined Kappa Mu not only to build friendships, but to improve their community and support one another as they made their way through life. The house I currently lived in was a squadron all of its own—one of modern-day shieldmaidens, whose honor and sensibilities continued the mission my teammates and I had set out to complete.