Calistin found himself sinking to the ground in front of her, as if he faced royalty. He caught himself, turning the movement into a wary crouch.
"You will not interfere with Valkyries," she commanded.
"But she was about to take…" Calistin found himself gesturing dully. "He's not worthy of-"
Her voice was like music; he could listen to it forever. "It's not your job to decide who's worthy. That job belongs to Shrieking and her sisters." She made a movement toward the Valkyrie. Bracelets glimmered on her wrist, until they became lost beneath her sleeve.
When it came to words, Calistin knew he fought a losing battle. He sheathed his swords; they alone could help him, but he refused to attack the vision in front of him. "But he's… racist. A hater of Renshai, without just cause."
The woman smiled, as did the Valkyrie. At least, she made no further move toward the Northman. "Calistin, if the Valkyries limited themselves to those who like Renshai, Valhalla would contain only… well, probably only Renshai."
That sounded delightful to Calistin, exactly how a place like Valhalla ought to work, but he knew better than to say so. That would make him seem equally bigoted.
"I believe you know, Calistin, that the quality the Valkyries seek is courage. Valhalla is the reward for any warrior who dies bravely in battle."
"Yes, but…" Calistin pursed his lips. He was not used to mincing words. "Doesn't a man's character count at all?" Even as the question left his lips, it seemed wrong. It was the sort of thing one of his brothers might ask. Nevertheless, he continued, his own voice sounding odd in his ears, "His causes mean nothing?"
"Nothing," the woman confirmed. "Many a friendship has been formed in Valhalla. Some over days, others only over millennia. Your brother's sword is a testament to that."
Motfrabelonning. Calistin knew the story. "I…" He glanced at the Northman's headless corpse. "… won't…" He paused, knowing he now fought only a war of stubborn will that he could not win. "… don't think…"
"Calistin," she said firmly. "If you insist on interfering with Valkyries, the gods will have no choice but to smite you down."
Calistin's heart rate quickened, not from fear but from excitement. For a moment, he imagined himself surrounded by Frey, Heimdall, and Vidar, exchanging lightning sword strokes until their superior might destroyed him. He could think of no better, no more worthy, way to die. That would surely earn him a place in Valhalla.
"And that would be a terrible shame. It would wound your father deeply."
"My father knows I'm Renshai." Calistin still felt odd about the way he and Saviar had left Ra-khir, desperately grieving for, of all things, a Renshai. "He knows it's my mission, my destiny, to die in combat. What could please him more than me falling to the might of the gods themselves? Surely, the Valkyries would choose me, and I would have my fiercest wish, the only thing that really matters."
The Valkyrie called Hlokk, or Shrieking, finally spoke, "We never took men felled by Thor's thunderbolts nor shot down by Ullr's distant bow. And you, Soulless One, can never find Valhalla no matter how bravely you die."
It was the second time Hlokk had called him soulless. A sword thrust through his heart could not have shocked, or hurt, Calistin more. He glared at the Valkyrie, hands balled on his hilts, uncertain whether to scream, attack, or cry. Never before in his life had he felt helpless. "What do you mean?" he said, not trusting his voice above a whisper.
Hlokk did not answer, only stepped around Calistin and reached toward the fallen Northman.
Calistin rounded on the other woman, whose identity suddenly became desperately important. "What does she mean? And who are you?"
But the beauty had silently vanished in the moment he had looked away, leaving no sign she had ever existed. Calistin whirled back toward the Valkyrie, only to find her gone, too. "No!" he screamed. "No! No! No!" His blades cut the air where the women had stood, meeting no resistance. "Why would you-How can this be?" He launched into a crazed flurry of svergelse, his blades cutting the air all around him. "What did you mean? What did you mean?"
Brush crunched, and Treysind appeared suddenly at Calistin's side, taking no apparent notice of the flying steel for the moment. "Hero! Hero! What's wrong, Hero?" His distress was tangible. "Is ya hurt?"
Calistin howled in frustration and anger. His insides felt like liquid fire. He swung wildly, sending Treysind into panicked retreat. He wanted to shriek at the heavens until his throat turned raw, to fight enemies until one finally claimed him, to die hacked beneath the blows of a million swords. "I do have a soul, you foolish wench. I… have… a… soul!"
"A course ya gots a soul, Hero." Treysind soothed from a distance, hand over his mouth and nose to filter out the odors of death. "Ya's got more spirit than any four other mans tagether."
Calistin froze, then turned to stare at his unwanted sidekick who now watched from behind a tree trunk.
"Ev'ry human gots a soul," Treysind continued. "Ya is human, ain't ya, Hero?"
The question seemed utter nonsense. "Do I look like a horse to you? Of course I'm human."
Treysind shrugged, hand still clamped to his face. "Then, ya was born wit' a soul. Did ya sell it ta demons?"
"No!" The very suggestion enraged Calistin. It was exactly the accusation he expected to hear from some lazy fool who would rather attribute skill to nefarious magic than to credit long hours of practice and hard work.
"Is ya gived it 'way ta some magic creature?"
"Gived it…?" Calistin shook his head. "What nonsense is this? Certainly not."
"Then,"Treysind announced simply, "ya still gots it.Which means ya do gots a soul."
"Of course I have a soul!" Calistin turned his back on Treysind, as if the boy had initiated his doubts. Then, realizing how stupid that sounded, he shrugged and laughed. "Everyone has a soul." But his attempts to shrug off the Valkyrie's insult, even shouted out in anger, fell short. Restlessness assailed him, overcoming the fatigue of his many battles. Calistin did not know how, but he had to prove it. "I need some time alone."
"I's keepin' m'distance, Hero," Treysind promised. "We's all needs some sleep." He started to glance around the woodlands, then stopped. His gut heaved.
Calistin ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, allowing it to fall in a random array of boyish spikes. It was just long enough to annoy him; he looked a bit older with it closely cropped. Treysind misunderstood. Calistin was not talking about a short break to rest and regroup. What he needed was time, and a lot of it. His last thousand attempts to rid himself of the boy had failed, and he expected no better results now. Nevertheless, he felt the need to try. "Treysind, don't you think your debt to me is paid?"
Treysind looked at his own feet, seeming more uncomfortable than confused. "What ya meanin'?"
"I mean, you saved my life many times over today." It was not true, but Treysind had to believe it to justify his intrusions during combat. "We're even now, right?"
Treysind released his hold long enough to shake his head vigorously. "It ain't a matter a 'even.' Ya saved m'life. Now I's obil'gated ta keep ya from dyin'. Fo'ever."
"Forever!Your mission is doomed." Calistin laughed, the humor a strangely welcome relief. "No one lives forever. Even with the Great Treysind as his bodyguard."
"Tha's my intentshin," Treysind replied, with all seriousness. "Pa'haps yas'll be tha first."
"Second," Calistin replied. "Because to protect me forever, you'll have to live forever, too."
"Whither or not I's succeed's in tha hands a tha gods." Treysind finally smiled at a realization. "What, by tha way, live… fo'ever."
"Yes, but I am not a god." Calistin's own words sparked a revelation. But I think I recently spoke to one. He suddenly thought he knew the identity of the woman, and it made him decidedly uncomfortable. Golden necklace, unbelievable beauty. Could that have been Freya? The urge to drop to his knees became unbearable. He was seized with the undeniable need to pray. "Treysind, could you check and make sure my brothe
r came through the battle?" It was a ruse to rid himself of the boy. Calistin had spoken to Saviar since the bulk of the hostilities had ended, and Treysind knew it.
Nevertheless, nodding vigorously, Treysind rushed to obey his Hero's request. Calistin dropped to the ground. And prayed.
Treysind hurried through the brush, avoiding bodies, nose pinched against the horrific odors that defined the death and destruction around him: feces and blood, metal, sword oil, urine, and rancid fat. It all blended into a hideous, overpowering stench that threatened to overwhelm him. Before long, he could taste it, and plugging his nose seemed more folly than sense.
The forest around had gone quiet. Many small pyres burned, surrounded by Renshai with bowed heads, praying for the souls of their dead, for their own survival, for courage and skill in future battles that would likely see them in their burning companions' places. Treysind knew his own fate was not much different. He had bound himself to Renshai, and their enemies would not differentiate him from them. They would assume him a Renshai, with his red hair and pale eyes, and they would slaughter him with the same exuberance. And yet, Treysind could not leave. Despite the constant threat of murder, despite their many battles, the Renshai had become his people, the only ones he had ever considered his own. Treysind had never felt so safe, so happy and secure, as he did in Calistin's presence.
As the stench became a part of him, Treysind noticed it less. Even the sight of openmouthed bodies with wide, glazed eyes ceased to bother him anymore. He finally found the courage to rummage through the enemy's belongings. He took a short sword from the hand of a dead Northman, then slipped the belt and sheath from the corpse's bloating body. From another, he took a pack, tossing out spare clothing, washing supplies, and other unnecessary gear to stuff it to the brim with foodstuffs from every nearby pack. He also kept two utility knives he uncovered and a purse into which he threw every coin he found. Burdened by his booty, Treysind headed out to find Saviar.
Not far from the spot where they had assisted Calistin, Saviar and Subikahn continued the argument the recent battle had interrupted. Saviar found himself, once again, in a war of words that seemed unnecessary and blatantly foolish. "Subikahn, you're too bright to act this thickheaded. Now, of all times, the Renshai need to stay together."
"Agreed." Subikahn ran a finger along the knurling of his hilt. They had already cleaned and tended the blades in an irritated silence. "And, as long as they stay out of the East-"
"Which is the only place they can go." Saviar had bound the superficial wound on his calf and tied up his flapping sleeve.
"-lands, I will remain with them," Subikahn finished as if his twin had never interrupted.
"It's the only way they can go."
"And the only way I can't."
Saviar sprang for the loophole, "Except that, as a Renshai, you're also banished from the North and Westlands."
Subikahn's brows wormed upward. "Which means the only places I can legally go are the Faery Worlds and Asgard. And, since I'm not a contingent of elves who can open portals to other worlds, and the gods aren't rushing to invite me around to tea, I'm limited to those places humanly reachable."
"So," Saviar pressed, "since every part of the world is equally off-limits, it makes the most sense to remain with your brothers and your tribe."
"Yes."
Saviar's hopes soared. He finally seemed to have gotten through to Subikahn.
"Unless they choose to go eastward."
Saviar closed his eyes tightly, feeling his head begin to throb. "Subikahn."
"Yes?"
"Didn't we just establish that all directions are equally off-limits to you?"
"No."
Saviar opened his eyes. Nothing had changed. The gray light of evening still poured over a forest dark with bodies. Subikahn remained standing in front of him, looking more curious than alarmed. "A moment ago, you said 'yes.' Now it's no?"
"Yes," Subikahn said, the reply utterly ambiguous. "All off-limits, but not equally so. Because, if it comes to disdaining the laws of my enemies or of my father, I'd rather face the enemies. I respect King Tae Kahn far more than all of the Northmen combined; and I fear him more, too."
Saviar had to know. "What in deepest, darkest, coldest Hel did you do?"
Subikahn opened his mouth, then closed it in a deep sigh. "I can't tell you, Savi. I can't tell anyone."
"We shared a womb," Saviar reminded, not for the first time.
Subikahn returned a wan smile. "As I remember it, you hogged most of the space."
Stopped short by the comment, Saviar stared. Though neither of them could possibly remember, it had to have been true. He had been a much larger infant than his twin, and the disparity remained to this day. He probably currently outweighed his darker brother by nearly double. A smile wriggled across his lips before he could stop it, but he did manage to suppress laughter. "This is serious."
"Extremely." Subikahn sucked in another deep breath and released it slowly. "I thought my bond with my father was as solid as the mountains. I thought nothing I could say or do would harm it. And yet, look what happened." He met Saviar's gaze, eyes moist.
Saviar's blood seemed to turn to ice water. He could not imagine anything so terrible that it could damage the bond between twin brothers. Yet, a week ago, he would never have believed anything could sever a doting father like Tae from Subikahn either. Maybe he's right. Maybe it's better if I don't know. And yet, the idea irritated as much as troubled him. The entire world seemed to have gone crazy, and his family led the charge. His mother had made a foolish decision out of pride and derision, one that had ultimately taken her from her family and doomed the entire tribe. The infallible Knight-Captain had made a horrendous decision. Their once-brave father had allowed grief to turn him into puddled goo. And Subikahn had done something so unspeakably evil he could not share it even with his twin. Battered, nearly broken, abandoned by everyone he ever trusted, Saviar felt like crawling into a deep hole and remaining there forever.
Suddenly seized with the desire to hurt his twin, Saviar turned away and noticed a small figure moving toward them.
Always wary, Subikahn melted into the shadows, whispering. "Is that…?"
Saviar knew exactly what Subikahn intended to ask. "Yes, that's Treysind." He waited for the boy to approach before asking, "What can we do for you?"
The "we" apparently caught Treysind off guard because he looked around briskly until his gaze finally landed on Subikahn, still and silent against the bushes. "Hero sended me." He studied the half-Easterner cautiously. "He wanted me ta makes sure ya's was alrigh'."
"Really?" In no mood for family games, Saviar took the announcement with a grain of salt. "The Great Golden Idol of Renshai deigns to wonder if I'm alive or dead?"
Treysind glowered, the look odd on his young features. "A course he cares.Ya's his brother. He loves ya."
Saviar snorted. "The only person Calistin loves is Calistin."
"Hey!" Treysind grasped the hilt of his new sword awkwardly. "Tha's… tha's mean. It's insultin' ta… ta Hero."
"Yes, it is." Saviar forced himself to speak civilly, though it took an enormous effort of will. He was rapidly beginning to hate his entire family. When it came to human emotion, Calistin deserved every affront he could hurl; but Treysind was blameless. "I'm sorry I said that to you." It was the closest he could come to an apology, meager but apparently enough for Treysind, who nodded and uncurled his fist from the hilt.
"Hero really sended me ta make sure yas was well. He rilly do love yas." Treysind clearly believed it important that he make Saviar understand. "Honest. He's jus'… not rilly good at showin' it."
"He's not doing any worse than the rest of my stupid family," Saviar mumbled, quietly hoping Subikahn heard him.
"What?" Treysind apparently did not.
Saviar refused to repeat it. "Nothing. Why don't you take me to him? Right now, I'd like to be with someone who… loves me… who wants to be with me." He deliberately turne
d his back on Subikahn, but still managed to hear his twin muttering.
"Oh, stop acting like a baby."
"Go to Hel," Saviar whispered back savagely.
Apparently oblivious to the exchange, Treysind brightened noticeably. "I's sure Hero'd enjoy his brothers' comp'ny." He turned his attention to Subikahn. "Is yas coming, too, Hero's other brother?"
Subikahn stiffened. "I… no. How did you…? No. I have to go. Alone, apparently. The fewer people who know I'm here, the better." He glided silently into the brush.
Alone, apparently. Those words stuck with Saviar while the others faded. He can't be suggesting I accompany him. Can he?
Treysind narrowed in on a different phrase. "How's I knowin'… who yas is? Hero loves ya both. He talks 'bout ya, so's I knowed who yas was even wit'out meetin'." He grinned, clearly thrilled by his analysis. "I's bein' sure ta tell him ya's well, too."
"No!" Subikahn reappeared. "Didn't you hear me say I don't want people knowing where I am?"
"I tells Hero ever'thin'."
"Of course you do." Saviar could not help reveling in his twin's discomfort, though he knew it was wrong. His father would never approve of such wicked pleasure, nor his grandfather.Yet, at the moment, Saviar did not feel kindly disposed toward any of them. "And you should. It's not fair of Subikahn to expect otherwise."
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