Curse of the Valkyries

by Rachel Tsoumbakos

  Sigrun froze with his words. Her breath stopping in her chest.

  Helgi looked at her. “What is it?”

  “My father has promised me in marriage to another man.”

  Chapter 5: FREYA

  “I’ve finally met him!” Sigrun exclaimed as soon as she entered the great hall.

  Freya watched as the Valkyrie spun around, dancing from sister to sister and exclaiming just how in love she was. The goddess shook her head and cut a look towards Loki. He was grinning just as inanely as Sigrun was.

  “I knew as soon as I saw him that he was my Helgi,” Sigrun said as she stepped up to Freya.

  “And, how did you know?” Loki asked, leaning forward. “Was it a memory, or did he say something? Perhaps his prestige or lineage was a sign?”

  Freya frowned at Loki. There was no need to prompt the woman further than was needed. If this was the Helgi that would see the birth of a hybrid breed of warrior capable of winning at Ragnarok, it would all be revealed in good time. “Leave the girl alone,” she said.

  “I can’t explain it,” Sigrun replied. “As soon as we saw each other across the battleground, I just remembered. Although strange you should mention his lineage, Loki. He is the last of his kind, of the clan Volsung.”

  “That clan!” Odin exclaimed as he walked up to the group. “Stupid enough to get themselves all killed.”

  “Not all of them,” Sigrun chided. “Helgi is the last of them. Perhaps I will be able to give him children and the line will prosper once more?”

  Sigrun flitted off after that, already grabbing Mist and spinning her around. In a matter of moments, the pair disappeared into the jumble of new warriors feasting in Valhalla.

  Loki laughed as he rubbed his hands together and Freya pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, Loki,” she cautioned.

  “Of course, it does!” Loki exclaimed. He jumped from his seat and danced around in a circle before sitting down once more.

  “This meddling is wrong,” Odin grumbled as one of the Valkyries filled his cup with golden mead. The All-Father sat down heavily and Freya eyed him carefully. While Loki might be excited at the prospect, Odin was becoming less inclined to think they had done the right thing all those years ago by letting Svafa be reborn.

  “How can it be wrong if it benefits us all?” Loki queried.

  Freya was inclined to agree with Loki. The gods had lived for so many years and yet she never tired of being alive. She wasn’t looking forward to a future that would see her death. However, she was not about to voice her opinion to Odin. Not when he appeared to be ready to argue.

  “But what if this battle teaches us all something that is so wonderful that it will be better than staying alive? Perhaps this lesson is only something we can all learn by giving up our cherished lives?”

  “Ha! But how do we know that, Odin?” Loki jeered. “I don’t want to give up my own life for the suspicion that there is something better to be gained.”

  “But that is the way of you, Loki,” Odin countered. “You can never see far enough ahead to keep yourself out of trouble.”

  “And that trait hasn’t failed me yet, has it?” the god replied with a wink.

  Chapter 6: SIGRUN

  “Trust me, this is a good pairing,” her mother said as she tended to Sigrun’s hair.

  “How can it possibly be?” Sigrun interrupted.

  “You know this is important to Hogni, it will help curb the tensions that have always surrounded out lands.”

  “Perhaps if Father were nicer, there would be no conflict,” Sigrun grumbled. Although, it likely wasn’t true. Their kind wanted war no matter the circumstances.

  Her mother ignored her comment. Instead, she patted Sigrun’s hair one last time. “There, now you are presentable.”

  Sigrun didn’t really care if she looked satisfactory or not since this meeting was between her father and Granmar, the father of her betrothed. Begrudgingly, she allowed herself to be dragged along behind her mother as they made their way to the king’s longhouse.

  While Sigrun knew of Granmar’s kingdom, she had never really visited it before outside of gathering men on the battlefield in the area. And, collected warriors in the heat of battle was not a way to be introduced to the community.

  The township was average in size, comparable to her own father’s lands. As she watched the people in passing, she could sense their interest in her. News had surely travelled quickly regarding the intended nuptials.

  Some of the villagers smiled at Sigrun as her mother led her through the streets. Others laughed or pointed and Sigrun was beginning to feel a sense of unease settling down on top of the anger already present at being forced into the situation.

  “Smile, Sigrun,” her mother chided before entering the large longhouse that housed her soon-to-be husband. She frowned in response and her mother tugged hard on her arm. “I’m serious, child.”

  Rolling her eyes, Sigrun plastered a weak smile on her lips. It was all she could muster under the current circumstances.

  “That’s better.”

  The room was dark as they entered even though a fire roared in the centre. Sigrun blinked a couple of times to help her eyes adjust.

  “Welcome!” Sigrun looked in the direction of the voice and saw only the shadowy outline of a man. She nodded her head in response.

  “This is Hilda, wife of King Hogni of Ostergotland and her daughter, Sigrun.” Sigrun closed her eyes at her father’s words. “Welcome, Daughter, come and meet your betrothed.”

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to smile once more and stepped forward. She may not be in agreeance with Hogni but she knew her social graces and would not embarrass the man in front of Granmar.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Sigrun,” an older man said as he also stepped forward. Reaching in, he clasped Sigrun by her shoulders and kissed her firmly on each cheek. Sigrun could smell the staleness of old ale and the sourness of his breath. His lips left wet splodges of saliva on her cheeks and she resisted the urge to wipe it away with her apron. “This is my son, Hothbrodd.”

  Sigrun turned away from the king and followed in the direction he pointed. A young man who appeared not much older than Dag stood off to one side. His hair was the colour of mud and pulled back into the braided style most commonly used by warriors.

  “I am so glad to finally meet you,” Hothbrodd said. He reached for her too, as familiar as his father was with her person. Sigrun swallowed back her ire and allowed a second strange man to kiss her.

  “As am I,” she replied although the words were spoken through her clenched teeth.

  “Sit,” Granmar instructed. “Let’s get to know each other a little more.”

  Sigrun did as she was told and took a place next to her mother. Hothbrodd chose a seat next to Sigrun and the warmth of his body pressed against her thigh made her feel ill.

  “Here, drink some mead,” Granmar said as a slave stepped forward. “Hurry woman, don’t leave our guests waiting.”

  Sigrun smiled as the server approached. Taking a cup of mead, she thanked the woman who eyed her nervously.

  Moving on, she poured more mead into Hothbrodd’s cup and he drank it down quickly.

  “I hear you are a Valkyrie,” Hothbrodd said once he’d finished his drink. “Your father speaks highly of you.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Sigrun replied as she cut a glance towards her father. He and Granmar were involved in a conversation and both were laughing. “I am a Valkyrie and should never have been promised to anyone.”

  Hothbrodd snorted at her. Glancing back towards him, she could see the confusion on his face. His frown cleared and he laughed nervously. “I am sure you don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, I mean it,” Sigrun replied. She could still hear her father laughing and sat taller. The tug on her sleeve told her that her mother was offering a discrete warning her but she ignored it.

  “Well, what does it matter if y
ou mean it or not,” Hothbrodd replied, beckoning towards the serving woman. She rushed forward to fill his cup. “You are only a woman.”

  The slave faltered as she approached and her jug of mead was knocked from her hands as she tried to steady herself. The vessel fell and mead sprayed out across the ground. Sigrun pulled her feet backwards to avoid the liquid but her skirts got splattered anyway.

  “Stupid woman!” Hothbrodd declared as he stood. Reaching out, he slapped the woman across the cheek. Sigrun gasped at his response.

  The room was silent now and she glanced around. The slave was kneeling, grabbing at the jug and sopping up the mess with her own skirts. Sigrun kneeled down to help.

  “Get up, Sigrun, that is not your work,” her mother exclaimed but Sigrun ignored her.

  “Sigrun,” her father roared. “Do as you are told.”

  She faltered. Looking up, she could see the anger in her father’s eyes, the embarrassment too.

  “Get out of here woman,” Granmar ordered and the server rushed quickly from the room.

  “She will not see the day out,” Hothbrodd commented and Sigrun rocked on her heels.

  “But she only spilled a drink.”

  “There is no room for mistakes such as those here,” Granmar replied and the dread Sigrun had been feeling since her father’s announcement of her betrothal reared up to consume her.

  Chapter 7: HELGI

  The evening was ominous with black clouds gathering. Looking over the bow of his longship, Helgi wondered if they should find shelter along the shoreline. Gazing left, he could see the faint outline of a rocky cliff face. They could certainly make it there in time to weather out the storm.

  Turning back to face the clouds once more, Helgi saw the Valkyries descend. Their steeds a lighter shade of grey which would normally help them to blend into the sky and make their entrance on the battleground unobtrusive. Tonight, though, as the wind whipped around the roiling stormfront, the Valkyries stood out proudly, as though they were in control of the weather and certainly showed no fear of it.

  Helgi smiled. At the head of the group was Sigrun. His eyes misted up with the knowing that she would be in his arms soon. Sigrun broke away from the main group and made the trip to Midgard alone, her horse galloping with such speed that its hooves sounded like thunder.

  While Helgi waited for her to arrive, his mind turned back to the events leading up to this trip.

  He still couldn’t believe it. Though it had been many days since Sigrun told him the news about her betrothal, he still couldn’t understand why the gods would do this to them. How could they be destined to meet once more in a new life and then have the obstacle of one of them being promised to another?

  At least Sigrun didn’t want to marry Hothbrodd. It had been decided for her, the proposal an unwelcome gift from her father. And, with the recent announcement of how the first meeting went between the couple, it seemed unlikely that Sigrun’s opinion on the matter would ever change.

  Helgi still couldn’t understand why Sigrun’s father thought he had the right to decide the future of a Valkyrie. She was special, one of the gods’ chosen ones. They had a devout responsibility in preparing for Ragnarok. How dare Hogni decide it was more important for Sigrun to wed Hothbrodd than to continue with her destiny.

  “Are you sure I should do this?” Helgi asked when the Valkyrie quietly touched down on the boat. He had questioned Sigrun this way every moment he got since she broke the news to him. Each time she gave the same response.

  “Of course, you have to,” Sigrun replied. “My father needs to learn that I am not one to have my destiny chosen for me.”

  She swooped in and kissed Helgi hard. He embraced her, hugging her tight against his chest and hoped that everything would work out as it should. Or, more precisely, as he wanted it to. After all, their fates were chosen, already set like stone. The gods knew what was coming and rarely saw fit to change it. What Helgi wanted was his own human desires, his own selfish needs. He wanted Sigrun all for himself.

  “This is your last chance to back out,” Helgi continued. He kissed the top of her head and gazed out across the turgid sea. “You might find happiness with Hothbrodd.”

  Sigrun laughed before turning her head upward toward him. “Why would I hope for happiness with a man I do not know? For someone who has a serving woman killed merely because she spilled a drink? I already have all the joy I could wish for here with you and do not want to risk it for the sake of my father.”

  Helgi felt his heart melt. He had to be sure, though. While he loved Sigrun dearly and wanted her all to himself, he did not take her responsibilities lightly as her father did. He gazed down on her, saw the adoration in her eyes and leaned forward to tenderly kiss the tip of her nose.

  “Then a war we shall have.”

  Even if Helgi had wanted to negotiate terms with Granmar over the betrothal between Granmar’s son and Sigrun, there was none to be had once the armies met at Brandey.

  Helgi entered Granmar’s territory with the intent of destroying the man in his way. Granmar knew this and wasn’t prepared to give in.

  Helgi was surprised at this. Sigrun had only been betrothed for a short amount of time. There was plenty of room to step away from the arrangement without too much dishonour. Helgi could claim that he had a prior stake in Sigrun and that he had staked it prior to Granmar’s arrangement, that there had been a terrible misunderstanding. It had happened before. Negotiations of women and lands were usually malleable.

  However, Granmar would take all or nothing. Either he had a deal with Sigrun’s father and his lands, or it was an open conflict.

  As Helgi stood at the head of his army, he could see clear across the field to where Granmar stood. The man’s jaw jutted out definitely and he held his battle axe with a fierce intensity that turned his knuckles white.

  Next to Granmar were his sons, Hothbrodd, Starkad, and Gudmund. Helgi only knew of the men in passing, Hothbrodd least of all, since he was the youngest and only just starting out in the game of war. Helgi nodded at Hothbrodd and smiled. He didn’t allow the smile didn’t reach his eyes and watched as Hothbrodd stepped from one foot to the other in a nervous dance. The man glanced once at his father before looking down at his feet. He never lifted his gaze again.

  On the other side of Granmar were Sigrun’s family. Her father, Hogni, stood tall, proud, his jaw set firm like Granmar’s. Helgi met the man’s steely gaze and wondered how such a person could help to create someone as wonderful as Sigrun. Next in line was Hogni’s sons, Sigrun’s brothers.

  Dag was a thin man, his beard still patchy in places. While Helgi had no qualms about killing Granmar or even Sigrun’s father, Dag was a different matter altogether. Sigrun loved this brother. She had already expressed concern over which side Dag would pick in this dispute. Helgi had hoped her brother would side with them. However, seeing him on the field now confirmed his greatest fear.

  Somehow, he would try his hardest to avoid killing Sigrun’s brother.

  Gazing towards the sun, Helgi wondered when Sigrun and her sisters would arrive. There was no keeping her brother’s intent from her once she entered the fray. He only hoped that she knew he would never intentionally cause him harm.

  Her father, on the other hand.

  He and Sigrun had come to the agreement on the last night out at sea before they touched down for Brandey that her father should die for his role in the situation. Sigrun had warned him that Hothbrodd was a cruel man, that he would cause her nothing but grief. Hogni had persisted, though. His intentions had jeopardised not only her daughter’s happiness but, potentially, her health as well. Helgi swallowed back a lump forming in his throat as he thought of the calamities that might have befallen Sigrun should she follow her father’s wishes and marry the brute.

  A crack of thunder heralded the arrival of the Valkyries. He knew it without even having to check. They had followed him on this journey, protecting him while his fleet was out at sea during that s
torm and their protection would continue today. As Sigrun had told him, the Valkyries were being instructed by Freya to make sure Helgi survived. While his fate was secure, his victory was unknown. But, Helgi had faith in them, that they would allow him to decimate the enemy today.

  “Fight!”

  Granmar roared the word out and his army instantly responded.

  Helgi took a deep breath, the calm before the storm and bellowed out his own reply. “Attack!”

  The thundering of hundreds of feet hitting the ground took over from the roar of the leaders. Then, a metallic clash as the two sides made contact for the first time.

  The two sides blurred into one mass as they fought for the upper hand. Some men battled in hand to hand combat. Their grunts mingled with the wet splodges of connected punches. Other warriors attacked with shields and weapons, creating a bloody spray that covered all that surrounded them. Before long, the blood made the ground underneath slick and treacherous.

  Helgi pushed his way through the fray, his eye always on Granmar and Hothbrodd. His brother, Sinfjotli, shadowed him, knocking down all who threatened Helgi’s advance. Helgi paid him no attention, lest he lost sight of the men who caused his such dismay. However, every now and again, the flash of his brother’s arm, or shield, or face caught his peripheral vision. The sounds of his brother calling out threats and roaring in victory when he downed a foe also confirmed to Helgi that his brother was a frequent traveller at his side.

  Before Helgi reached his opponent, he felt Sigrun at his side. She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Be safe, my love.”

  Helgi felt tears well in his eyes and he risked a quick glance her way. In the middle of all the horror on the battleground, Sigrun was pristine in her grey robe, her hair pulled back tightly. He smiled at her as she reached out and gently touched his cheek.

  Then, she was gone, pulled into the fray as she and her sisters darted around, performing their required duties.