by S Lawrence
Asger smiles at her defense of him, “I will go get settled. Come find me when ye make your decision, Beathag.” Someone is waiting to take him to his room; it is bigger than his entire house. He is restless and cannot relax.
Ylva cries as they fade away to the Vanishing Isle, her heart breaking. Her father stands beside her, watching, wishing he could ease her pain. He has watched her as she grew to love Asger. He kept silent, wanting to stop it but knowing that you cannot change what the heart wants. Now he only wants to ease her pain, having loved only one in his life, he understands. Morrigan is both his greatest love and also his greatest suffering. Years ago, when he first felt her battle call and he lay near death, he thought she came to take him to Valhalla, but instead, she nursed him and then loved him. Her love is like a raging fire, all-consuming, and he bathes in it, but she too often had to leave. He knows she does not wish to leave him or their daughter, once she was born, but her duties takes her far from them. So yes, he understands Ylva’s heartache. Moving to her side, he pulls her into his arms. He tucks her head on his shoulder and carries her down the mountain like when she was little. Just the fact that she does not protest, alerts him to the level of her upset. Once inside, he sits in his chair. He rocks her back and forth, while the sobs are torn from her body. Her eyes are closed, but if they had been open, he would spy them take on the blue of her Berserker heritage. They would often change when she was a child and upset, long before she learned control. They sit like this for what seems like hours.
They are unaware that Danu watches from her home, torn between her daughter's needs and her granddaughter's heart. Ylva’s unique heritage makes her magic so very powerful. Her father is a Berserker, descended from her Grandfather’s people. The humans know them as Norse gods. Her daughter, Morrigan is a mixture of the wild nature magic from myself and the raging battle magic of Odin. Ylva is the strongest of all Halflings, her temperament runs cool like my own but she has a fire within her that burns so hot its flames are blue like her Berserker eyes.
Ylva snuggles in her father’s lap until she can calm her pounding heart and pull her magic back under control. When Asger stepped through the portal, she felt something break free. A buried wild part of her magic was released. It frightened her. All her life, both her mother and father, had taught her control. They warned her that she must keep it restrained. Finally she sits up, kissing her father’s cheek, she whispers in his ear, “Thank you, Da.”
“Always, daughter. I only wish I could’ve spared ye this heartache.”
Smiling sadly at him, she rises, moving to stare at the fire. How could she explain her feelings for Asger? They had been powerful before, but after the ritual, it is a thousand times more intense. She feels wild and out of control, her magic is reaching for him. Even here in this dimension away from the Isle, she can feel the dragon, his power singing out to her. She is trembling. Gripping the mantle, she leans her head forward, bracing on it, trying to gain control. Reaching for the calmness she inherited from Danu, she stills her mind before turning with a slight smile for her father. “ye all hae taught me well. I will temper these emotions. I will control this.” A look of doubt is in his eyes, but he smiles encouragingly.
Weeks pass and her mood only grows more turmoiled. She lashes out at those around her and she is always on the verge of a Berserker rage. She is practicing swords with her father in the yard, when she snaps. Her magic rises and she forces him to his knees before realizing what she has done. Crying out in despair, she drops her sword and turns, racing for the summit where she often meets her mother. As she stands gulping air, a massive storm rolls, blowing her raven hair around her face. Lightning crashes all around her as electricity builds. The villagers stand, staring up at her, frightened of her power. They behold her eyes glowing with her rage, shining bright blue in the darkening sky. She resembles an avenging God and they can feel the magic she is releasing. In her fury, she lets the wards drop. She calls to her a magnificent stallion, black as the night. She leaps upon his back, racing away into the mountains, lightning following her path.
Making her way back home days later, she returns to devastation. Bodies of the villagers lie broken and bloody; men, women and children, her people. She whips her head toward her home and views flames and smoke billowing. She uses her supernatural speed to reach it in moments. “FATHER!” she screams, the sound echoes off the mountains, it has the power of her Mother’s battle cry.
Morrigan appears in an instant, called by her daughter's anguish. The Goddess cries out and races into the flames, using her magic to protect herself as she searches for her love. She finds him, fallen with an ax still in his back, arm outstretched, reaching for her raven’s feather. He had left a trail of destruction trying to call for aid to save his people. She had given the feather from her own wing to allow him to summon her if he ever had the need. Falling to her knees, she drags him to her. All these years she has held him close, keeping him in this world. Long after he wished to go to the next realm. She was afraid of losing him and facing eternity alone. Her magic flexes out in her anguish. Her own battle cry fills the air, sounding across the land. Ylva is on her knees beside her, begging for her to bring him back, asking for forgiveness.
Their anger and heartache reach out across dimensions to the Vanishing Isle. It draws the other gods up short, they all turn their magic to Morrigan. Danu appears at their side, eyes taking in the destruction. She kneels beside them and pulls them both into her arms, sifting them and Einar to her home. She sends others to check for survivors; they return with none.
Ylva sobs. She holds tightly to her father, rocking him. Morrigan pulls his hand to her face, kissing it, breathing deeply to take in his scent. It is mere moments until a Valkyrie appears, sent by her father Odin, to take Einer’s soul. He had earned his place long ago and even today he fought like a warrior. Shaking her head, Ylva will not release him. Her mother leans close, whispering in her ear, reminding her of her father’s wishes. Danu grips her shoulders, pulling her away as Morrigan joins hands with the Valkyrie. They take her love to Valhalla, so she can say goodbye one last time.
Breaking away from her grandmother, Ylva rushes to the portal, knowing only that she must get away. Her heart has shattered into a million pieces, it is now a deep hole that she thinks will never be filled. Her mind is in chaos as she berates herself for letting her father be killed. She let the wards fall she allowed the others to reach him.
All those that can feel it are startled at the magnitude of her power. Danu herself, is even surprised by its vastness. From very early on, Morrigan has taught her daughter to control her rage. She had feared those that would seek to use Ylva, so they hid it, ensuring no one was aware of its potential.
Asger and his dragon are battered by her magic; it is undulating, like waves crashing upon the rocks. The dragon senses it as another beast, one that has slipped its leash. As she steps through the portal, she turns and spies the dragon flying to her. Her magic calling so strongly, even Asger cannot stop him from bursting free.
She is gone before he can reach her. The portal closes behind her, dampening the draw of her power. With her magic gone, Asger reins in his dragon. Questions flow through his mind, but his dragon has no answers. He only know that he could not deny her call or her heartache. Danu, appears beside him, questions also fill her eyes. She probes his mind gently, examining his magic, her head tilting in ponderance. He watches the Goddess and listens as she speaks to his dragon. He does not understand the magic of it all but can tell that Danu might have an idea of what is happening to them. A few minutes pass before she is done with her inquiry. Finished, she turns her eyes to him and asks, “I wonder, warrior, if you are making any headway with my daughter?” The sudden change of subject makes him wary.
“Yes, Goddess, she told me this morning before Ylva appeared, that she wishes me to take her to where she was held but is still frightened. I told her I would give her a little more time to decide,” he answers while his mind wh
irls in confusion.
“Oh, no. I do not think she should ever visit that place again. Why would she wish to go there?” Asger recognizes this is a mother's love; he will have to argue this gently.
“Goddess, I suggested it,” his tone is gentle yet firm. Anger fills her face for a moment before he continues to speak. “I hae known warriors that found a measure of peace after they returned to a place where grievous harm was done to them. To observe it in a different light, as someone free. Someone stronger because of that torture.” She stands in silence, her face turned toward the gardens, searching for Beathag. He waits for her to speak.
Turning back to him, she sighs, “I must admit I am at a loss. So much despair and destruction happening, like our old planet, the very things we fled. I am considering contacting Odin. He may have advice on how we should proceed.”
“My Lady, ye picked me because of my strength, but I hope also because of my experience in battle. I mean no disrespect, but ye need to stay out of it now. Beathag must be allowed to make her own decisions and hae control of her life or she will never recover. Ye will hae no need of me because she will never leave this place.”
Hurt flares in her beautiful eyes. He recognizes her magic as it caresses against his skin. She is aware that she sounds bitter as she murmurs, “Do what you think is best, Guardian.” The next instant she is gone.
He stands staring at the closed portal, his heart wants to go after Ylva, the dragon demands it, but he accepts he cannot and he should not. Not only because of his duty to Beathag but also one should not approach a wounded animal straight on. If he chases her, she will run. War has taught him patience. It has also taught him to be wary of the unknown. Shifting when he had not chosen to is a loss of control one unknown to both him and his dragon. Sighing, he turns away, the dragon pacing in his cave.
‘What would ye hae me do? We cannot chase her. She will turn her power on us. I saw the looks of amazed feart on the faces of those that reside here; even they are leery of her strength. We are strong but not her match in this moment. She needs time. We need time. Why do ye feel this strongly about her when ye hae only just met her?’ His question causes the dragon to pause. In his mind, Asger is amused by the very dog-like tilt of his head as it ponders its reaction.
A moment later, the dragon growls out, ‘I do not know, but she calls to me, to my magic. I must go to her. I must ease her pain. We must ease her pain.’ Asger stops, frozen in place, wondering at the dragon’s reaction.
Unable to puzzle out an apparent reason, he continues to the gardens where he expects his ward is. He finds her beside the fountain. She jumps slightly as he sits beside her. “Hae ye made your decision? It has been quite some time and I need to know if ye hae need of me. If ye do not, I must speak with your mother about putting me with another who does.”
She turns her eyes to him, taking him in as he looks at the water. It is their ritual, him pretending not to note her scrutiny, her only looking at him after he looks away. She is saddened at the thought of him leaving; she has grown used to his gentle badgering and the calm wash of power from the dragon. If she is honest, she has grown to want him near. Sighing, she looks away.
Not wanting to give an answer yet, she broaches another subject, one she has learned he enjoys. “Did you catch Ylva?” she inquires. He cannot see the slightly mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“No, she vanished through the portal before I could reach her,” he grumbles. In the time that they have known each other, she has listened to the love in his voice when he speaks of her niece.
“I felt her power break free,” envy lacing her words. “If I had that amount of strength, I could have destroyed the one that held me. I would have never been captured.” Her anger beats at him, but he is glad to feel it. Finally, she is feeling something.
“It was not your lack of strength that allowed him to bind ye.” Her face swings to him, her anger coloring it a slight pink. Her chest heaves, outrage stamped across her delicate features. “Before ye get any madder, let me finish. It was not power, it was your nature. ye recognize the good in people. I will teach ye to look for the bad. It will better allow ye to trust your instincts. I hae never asked if ye had any misgivings about going with him that first day.”
She had been calming down but now a hint of shame colors her cheeks. “No, none. I would have never thought that someone would want to hurt me.” Closing her eyes, she draws in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. He reaches out and takes her hand, she flinches but does not pull away. He says nothing, patiently waiting for her to speak. Slowly, she opens her eyes and in them he recognizes strength. “Take me to the valley. Let me look upon the place that haunts my every moment. I want you to burn it so that it is forever a wasteland. So those that would look to take me or another will know that we are no longer easy prey.”
Standing, she pulls him to his feet and begins moving to the portal. As they leave the garden, he turns and glances to the house where he surmises Danu stands. He is taken aback as her voice whispers through his head, ‘Protect her well, Guardian.’ He bobs his head, the barest amount in acknowledgment.
Just as they arrive at the portal, Morrigan appears, her heartache is etched upon her face. “It is good to see you leaving here Beathag, returning to your land, if only for a short while. I wonder if I might talk to your guardian for a moment.” Turning away she walks a short distance; he looks between the two women. “Asger, are you coming?” In that moment she reminds him that she is a Goddess and expects him to obey. He goes to her side. “I’m sorry for my tone,” she murmurs, looking embarrassed by her behaviour. Turning, she peers up into his face, studying it for a moment.
“I know you love my daughter.” It is a statement and when he opens his mouth to disagree, she stops him with a look. “Please do not argue. She also loves you, even though I warned her of the dangers of it. Did you feel her power before she fled?”
“Yes. It called to not only me but also my dragon. I think your mother might hae an idea why.” He observes her face to find out if she agrees.
A small smile curves upon her red lips, “I knew you were as smart as I had thought. Yes, she has an idea.” His dragon detects the tiniest of tendrils of magic flow from her and Asger cognizes she is speak to Danu. He waits, watching for a reaction. “We both feel we will have to investigate further before having a real answer. But, I need you to find my girl. Not physically, for I can and I am tracking her magic. I need you to reach her soul. You must understand that she is fully Berserker and magical, it is a dangerously potent mix. You have never completely changed to the Berserker; you have just a hint of the rage. The Berserkers were originally the Halflings of my father’s people. They had his tribes warring instinct, but over the years the blood has thinned. Do not misunderstand me because Berserkers are still feared; they just are not the ones that came to this land warring. But my Einar was born of a true Berserker and Ylva gained even his recessed abilities. You see, the Berserker is a living breathing thing the same as when you change to the dragon; the person fades into the background while the animal takes over. Ylva maintains her human form, but it is the beast looking out through her blue eyes. If you cannot reach her, she is lost. The Beast will have taken control, broken free of its chains. Combined with the powers she has from me, she will become a dark, beautiful Harbinger of Death. She will reign in death and destruction.”
Asger’s head moves from side to side; denial flooding his body at the thought of never having her back. His heart freezes as an image of a dark Goddess slams into his mind. “You hae my word, that I will find her. If whatever is happening to me is also happening to her, she will also find me. I will take Beathag to the valley, letting loose the dragon. Our combined power will alert her to our presence if she can feel the magic. She will come, Ylva will find me and I will reach her. The dragon suggests using animal instincts against her beast, asserting our dominance until she accepts us.”
He whirls around and strides toward the portal.
Morrigan smiles as he shifts more quickly than ever before, the dragon roaring out in challenge. He gently picks up her sister leaping into the air, massive wings flapping. He circles once and then dives through the portal and just before it closes, she is hit by a blast of heat as fire pours from his mouth. Her daughter will not only survive this, but she may just find a mate.
Coming out of the portal, Asger tightens his hold on Beathag cautiously, as he picks up speed. Her voice reaches his ears as she yells over the wind and his dragon eyes turn to her for a moment. “Asger, I will help you if I can. I am not strong like Ylva, but my magic is calming like my mother’s. If she comes to us, maybe I can help give you a slight edge.”
He turns his head chuffing at her. They like this girl, she is strong and kind. She smiles, as his breath blows her hair back. Turning his eyes back to the sky, he scans the horizon, unsure of the threat Ylva poses. They reach the valley in a few short hours. He takes them on a meandering path, hoping to get close enough to Ylva that she would sense them. Landing, he gently sets Beathag down. She steadies herself as she regards at the already destroyed farmhouse. “My sister was furious,” Beathag notes, pride resonating in her voice.
Surveying the valley, he would have to agree Morrigan had indeed been in a rage. Trees are bent, not broken. Every tree bowed toward the center of the valley; a true testament of the force of Morrigan’s whirling storm. The small farm house is in pieces around the field, but things are gradually returning to life throughout the valley. Soon, if it is left alone, it will thrive once more, nature trying to erase evidence of the horrible torture that took place. Turning his enormous muzzle to her, he waits for her command. Tears are streaming silently down her cheeks. Wishing to ease her torment, he wraps his long tail around her in comfort; reminding her that she is not alone. Her hand rubs against his scales unconsciously, as she loses herself in her nightmare. They stand like this for hours as the sun moves across the sky, her replaying the atrocities that befell her and him guarding her until she is ready. Finally, the tears stop and she draws in a shaky breath. Her body begins to vibrate with her fury. As her anger builds, beating at him, she commands, “It is time, Asger. Burn it to ash!”