Estrid (The Valhalla Series Book 2)

by Johanne Hildebrandt

  Their voices grew in strength until they were screaming so loudly that Estrid’s head hurt.

  Escape, escape, escape . . .

  She jumped when Katla grabbed her arm. Then everything was quiet again, and all she could hear were the soft voices from around the fire and a dog barking in the distance.

  Estrid gulped and forced herself back into this world. Spear in hand, she crept out into the protective darkness. Vidya followed her, hard on her heels.

  Escape, escape, escape . . .

  The route to the mountainside was like a dark ocean they had to cross.

  Small groves of trees could help protect them from discovery, but the Anund clan wasn’t the biggest danger they faced. It was the dogs that would easily follow their tracks. Estrid took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Hel, conceal me from the enemy and guide me toward the light. Vanadís, lend me your strength.

  She nodded to Vidya and took Katla’s hand. Together they ran across the yard and over the wobbly fence posts. There was no going back now.

  Estrid’s feet hammered against the ground as she ran across the field toward the nearest grove of trees. The soil itself carried her steps forward, away from captivity.

  Out of breath, they sought protection behind the tree trunks. It wasn’t far to the base of the mountains now. Estrid wiped the sweat from her brow and smiled to the slave.

  “You see? It’s going to work out.”

  Just then they heard the signal from a horn and the sound of barking dogs.

  “Run!” Estrid urged, and took off.

  It was happening now. Her nightmare had begun.

  Estrid’s legs shook with fatigue as they struggled their way upward, huffing and puffing. Step by step they climbed the unending mountainside as the dogs’ barking grew louder, snapping jaws and sharp teeth ready to tear them to pieces.

  “I can’t,” Vidya panted.

  “We have to go higher,” Katla said firmly.

  Estrid grabbed the slave by the hair and forced her to pick up her pace on the steep path and many switchbacks that led up the dark mountainside.

  Distant shouts could be heard in the dark behind them, and when she turned around, she saw the light of torches moving toward them from the valley. The dogs had picked up their scent. Estrid’s fear was a bloodred wave that imparted new strength. She would never allow herself to be captured and killed by those damned people.

  A sharp rock cut open a gash in her hand, but Estrid hardly felt it as she fought her way up the impossibly steep path, holding the spear. Sweat poured down her body, and it was so dark she could hardly discern which way to go. No light twinkled up at the top anymore. All that lay ahead, all she was struggling to reach, was darkness. Estrid’s foot slipped on some gravel that raked clattering down the incline. She had to keep going, not give up and let herself be recaptured.

  Garm, the wolf, might chase her, but she would try to escape this accursed valley no matter what it cost her. She desperately struggled onward in the darkness, up toward the liberation of the three towering peaks.

  Everything was just like in her nightmare. Soon the sharp claws would sink into her shoulders and pull her backward, down to captivity in the valley of the shadow of death. Estrid took a wheezing breath. It was becoming harder and harder to get enough air.

  She heard a snarling growl through the murk, the sound of claws striking rock, and then two shaggy beasts emerged from the darkness and rushed at them with slavering jaws. Estrid was shaking all over when she stopped with the spear in hand.

  Vidya screamed in pain as one of the beasts knocked her to the ground. Yellow eyes flew through the air with a roar as the other attacked Estrid. Without thinking, she raised the spear as the dog lunged at her. The rusty tip pierced its throat and impaled the beast so that it dropped dead with a whimper. Blessed Hel, I thank you. Estrid’s heart was bursting as she tugged, kicking the animal’s body away so the spear came loose.

  You didn’t get me, you accursed beast.

  Vidya shrieked shrilly, in pain and filled with mortal fear. Only a few steps below Estrid, the snarling beast yanked on the slave’s arm and whipped her back and forth.

  Vidya kicked the animal and hit it with the bundle she carried in her other hand. Unarmed, she fought bravely against her approaching death.

  “Come,” Katla yelled, and grabbed Estrid’s arm. “We have to keep going.”

  The spear was slippery from the sweat in Estrid’s hands as she took a step up the mountain. Vidya was a sacrifice and meant nothing. But the slave’s tormented shrieks got to Estrid, and she couldn’t leave her in the dark.

  That damned Anund clan. A curse on this nightmare, a curse on this steep mountain slope that confined her steps.

  Enraged, Estrid flung herself at the shaggy beast and stabbed right into the back of its head, but the spear slipped and only wounded the animal. With a whine it released its hold on Vidya and ran off down the mountain.

  “Why did you do that?” Katla roared. “Your weakness will be your undoing!”

  Vidya was still alive. Whimpering with pain, she struggled to her feet and took a couple of staggering steps before sinking to her knees. Farther down the mountain their pursuers were getting closer, their torches raised. Their shouts were audible. If they didn’t run now, they would lose their lead. Damn it.

  “Leave her. She’ll slow us down.” Katla was furious as she grabbed Estrid’s hand and pulled her up the mountain.

  Vidya struggled to her feet and staggered up the mountain behind them. The slave’s wounded arm hung limply by her side, but she followed them with determination. Estrid turned back around and hurried onward and upward. She had done more than enough for the slave.

  They climbed over a narrow cleft in the rock, and Estrid slipped in the gravel and fell flat into the darkness, so hard it knocked the wind out of her. She had to keep going. Her knee hurt as she struggled to get up, and she ground her teeth together to keep from screaming with rage. This had to be over soon. She couldn’t take any more.

  The air was ripping at her chest as she looked toward the peak, which was quite close now. She took one more step, the light broke at the crest, and finally he was there.

  Balder’s blessed light emanated around him. Every bit as attractive as in the dream, he reached out his hand to her. The handsome god blessed her with his blinding light and filled Estrid with hope and strength.

  “You came!” she whispered, and gave a sob of relief.

  He was the beginning and end of everything. He was the hope and the vanquisher of darkness. Tears flowed down Estrid’s cheeks as the darkness around them was driven away. He was her way out of the valley of the shadow of death.

  “We’re going to make it.”

  She was filled with strength, and her steps became light as she hurried into the god’s embrace. They would all survive.

  “Don’t you see him?” she called out, filled with a stormy joy.

  Katla didn’t respond. Estrid’s kinswoman looked fully exhausted and despondent.

  “I see him,” Vidya replied.

  Bleeding and cut, she had somehow managed to keep up and was now happily smiling at the light god.

  “Our savior.” Vidya smiled.

  Estrid swallowed, moved by her bravery. She couldn’t leave the slave behind, not now that salvation was so close. Estrid took a few steps back down the steep path and took hold of Vidya’s uninjured arm. Without hesitating, she placed it around her shoulders, and they struggled up together toward the resplendent Balder.

  “Don’t do that!” Katla cried out.

  The slave hung heavily, her weight supported on Estrid’s shoulders, but there was only a little ways to go to the peaks looming up ahead. Step by step they struggled up the rocky path. Soon, soon they would be free. Sweat coursed down Estrid’s back, and she was practically carrying Vidya as they approached Balder’s outstretched hand.

  “There they are!” Agnatyr screamed from somewhere behind them, an
d they heard pounding footsteps in the dark.

  Terrified, Estrid turned around and saw the Anund clan come running toward them with torches raised, only a stone’s throw away. They couldn’t let themselves be captured, not now that they were so close.

  “Let go of the slave and save yourself!” Katla urged.

  She yanked on Estrid so she almost tipped over, but Estrid managed not to drop Vidya.

  Baying dogs and Agnatyr’s cries meant captivity and even death. Sorcery and evil swirled around her. But for every step she took closer to the light, she was leaving fear and darkness behind.

  “You’ve made your choice,” Katla said. To her horror, Estrid watched Katla slow her pace.

  “What are you doing?” she cried. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

  Katla’s smile was infinitely sad as she stopped on the mountainside. Her blond locks fell over her beautiful face, and her eyes were as black as Hel’s.

  “I can’t follow you where you’re going,” Katla said, her voice so subdued, the darkness shook.

  Horror-struck, Estrid saw Anund’s men coming right for them, only fifty paces away. Agnatyr was in front, and he had an ax in his hand.

  “Come on,” she urged Katla. She and Katla were bound together. They were sworn to be together for all eternity. “Nothing is worth anything without you.”

  Katla’s eyes were dark as night as she stretched out her arms. She seemed to grow as dark dísir rose up from the surface of the mountainside, coiling and writhing around her body. Estrid gaped, dumbfounded, in horror and admiration as the being spread her black wings and she wasn’t Katla anymore but Hel’s beautiful servant. Her beloved kinswoman . . . how had Estrid not known that Katla was a fylgja sent by Hel to watch over her?

  “You’re so beautiful,” Estrid whispered, tears pouring down her cheeks.

  The dís regarded her impassively, one-half of her face burned black. She raised a charred hand, and just then a gray mist raced down the mountain and swallowed up Anund’s men.

  Save yourself, my dear. Katla’s voice was the tender whisper of a mother. An instant later the mist enveloped her, and she was gone as if she’d never been there.

  “Come back!” Estrid screamed in anguish as her heart was ripped from her chest.

  Katla couldn’t leave her. She couldn’t live a life of loneliness. Estrid let go of the slave and started walking back down toward the mist. Her pact with Katla was for all eternity. She was sworn to Hel, and all she wanted was to become the death goddess’s maidservant, just as powerful and beautiful as the dís Katla actually was. They were supposed to wander the afterworld together, side by side, forever.

  “No!” Vidya screamed, and grabbed Estrid’s arm, holding her back. “You must continue into the light. See? He’s waiting for you.”

  With a grimace of pain Vidya grabbed Estrid’s tear-stained cheeks and turned her face toward the dazzling god’s radiant light.

  “Choose life, not death.”

  Estrid whimpered with longing, but she couldn’t look away from the light.

  The god’s hair fell like sunbeams from the top of his head, and his gorgeous divinity was a caress that burned away doubt and uncertainty. All that remained was hope.

  “Go to him,” Vidya urged, and now Estrid saw the slave’s tears in the dark. “Let the miracle embrace you.”

  The god held out a shimmering hand. Estrid hesitated, although only briefly; then she took it, and the light gloriously embraced her. As it did so, the world dissolved around her.

  Estrid was hurled away from the mountain, out into an infinite void, where stars flowed forward like glimmering rivers, and a song, unfamiliar and mighty, filled the universe.

  The light flowed through Estrid as she rested in the god’s embrace, and it healed her of death and darkness, leaving an infinite serenity and joy at the grace he had bestowed.

  “It was you,” she whispered, astounded. Only now could she see who he was, beyond the brilliant light. “The whole time—it was you.”

  The man who had once been the cross worshipper Vidar smiled tenderly as he carried Estrid through eternity.

  “I swore I would liberate you,” he said in a voice as mild as a summer rain falling on parched soil. “You are mine.”

  Estrid smiled and rested her head against his chest. She drank in his love and strength.

  Everything he said was true. She had been his since he saved her in the dream, and she had offered her virginity and her sacred blood to confirm the union.

  The white Christ had saved her from the valley of the shadow of death and driven away the demons. He had done everything he had said he would to save her.

  They floated above an infinitely beautiful landscape filled with dazzling flowers and lush plants weighed down with fruit. The people who wandered through these verdant climes lived together in harmony, and there was no suffering, no hunger, and no sorrow.

  Estrid smiled at the young women and men, who swam, laughing, in a cool, spring-fed pool. A wolf and a lamb reposed together in the shade of a tree. There were no family feuds, where hatred was passed down from father to son. In the white God’s paradise, there was no famine, only peace and happiness.

  This was the white God’s gift to humanity. That was why Vidar had sacrificed himself on the cross, for her and all people’s sins so that they could find their way out of the darkness. The man who had once been Vidar smiled at her, and in that moment she knew why he had chosen her and what she had to do.

  “I will do everything you want.”

  “I won’t leave my husband.” Ingeborg’s eyes were red from crying, and she was trembling all over.

  Ulf’s wife had blackened her face with soot, and her clothes were made of sumptuous red cloth.

  “I’m going to follow him to the afterworld,” she said, twisting away from her youngest children, who were clinging to her skirts.

  “No, Mommy!” one of her daughters wailed. “Stay with us.”

  Sigrid leaned back on her throne and sighed at her brother’s widow.

  “You can’t join him on the funeral pyre when you have five children to take care of. I won’t allow it.”

  Ingeborg sniffled and wiped away her tears and soot with the back of her hand.

  “If you forbid me to follow my husband and look after him, a servant needs to do it. His rank is too high for him to live unattended in the afterworld.”

  So that was what she was after. Sigrid fiddled with the silver necklace she was wearing as she scanned her hall, filled with her relatives all listening attentively. Servants and slaves anxiously recoiled and turned away so they wouldn’t be asked.

  She sighed again.

  Killing servants and slaves for company in the afterworld was a ludicrous custom. Sigrid had wandered in the borderlands to the afterworld herself and seen the dead walking to Hel’s caves; none of them had had servants with them. And yet she couldn’t refuse Ulf’s widow’s wishes. Her brother’s funeral needed to be magnificent.

  People from near and far had made the journey to the estate to say farewell to the Scylfing chieftain. They had to spare no expense to show how important Ulf was.

  “You’re completely right, Ingeborg,” Sigrid said. “We need to find him a worthy maidservant.”

  Ingeborg nodded and wiped her tears again.

  “I know someone who’s willing,” Ingeborg said. She turned around and gestured to a young woman with dark hair and hazel eyes, who came and stood beside her mistress, looking terrified. “Dagrun, you who often warmed my husband’s bed, surely you would like to serve him in the afterworld?”

  The girl’s face went white.

  “I don’t know,” Dagrun said, her voice scarcely audible.

  Sigrid could hardly conceal her contempt. Ingeborg was using the funeral to get rid of the mistress her husband had been so fond of. The girl had given him so much happiness, his wife was filled with envy.

  Ingeborg put her hand on the girl’s arm.

  “You’ll
be given many gifts to take to the afterworld. You’ll serve my beloved husband, wearing gold jewelry and the most beautiful clothes.”

  The room was completely silent as everyone awaited the girl’s response. Sigrid signaled to Nanna, the sacrificial priestess who would be responsible for blessing the victim since Asta was not here. The old woman came to her side promptly and started pulling potions out of the leather pouch that hung from her belt over her gray dress.

  Toste moved to stand on one side of the girl and Ulf’s warrior, Runar, on the other. If Ulf’s mistress gave her consent, they would act quickly before she changed her mind.

  The girl stared pleadingly at Sigrid as if hoping she could offer her a way out. She didn’t want to die. That was clear. But she had already lost her status, and if she refused, Ingeborg would drive her away from the estate and the local region. Ulf’s former mistress had no real choice other than to say yes, and she would surely be better off in the afterworld than in this life.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Sigrid said calmly. “I’ve wandered through the afterworld, and it’s like this life, only happier and without pain. It is a gift to get to accompany my brother into death. You’ll rejoice for all eternity.”

  The mistress stared at her so fearfully that Sigrid was almost embarrassed. But what must happen would happen.

  The poor girl was trembling when she finally nodded.

  “I will follow my master into death,” she said.

  Ingeborg couldn’t conceal her pleased smile.

  “Hel honors you and welcomes you to her realm,” Nanna called out ceremonially, handing her a bowl.

  The girl’s hands shook so much that she couldn’t hold it, so the old woman helped her drink the concoction that would lead her halfway to the afterworld. The old woman was skillful at making strong potions. The girl didn’t have time to do anything beyond emptying the bowl before she swayed and her eyes grew dazed. From this moment on she would barely know what was happening around her, and that was just as well.

  “Dress her in her death outfit, and make her look beautiful,” Sigrid said, nodding in recognition at Ingeborg’s triumph.