“Gullveig’s rebirth was foretold for centuries,” the old woman says. “The prophecies said the heir of the Valkyrie would return, and when she did, the dragons would return as well.”
“What prophecy?” Liz asks. “And why would Gullveig’s return bring the dragons?”
“You had children, you know,” the old woman continues as though Liz asked her nothing. “As Gullveig, you had three children with a man named Fagen, all girls, and they were all born with wings.” She smiles. “Those three lines vowed to preserve the bloodline of the strongest earth child ever to live. But in the fourth generation, the offspring stopped being born with wings.” She sighs. “There was always a mark where they should have been.” She turns and lifts up her jacket, high, high above her shoulder, exposing a saggy, wrinkled back. Even so, the reddish marks on her shoulder blades are clear.
I hear the sound of grinding and crashing at once that tells me that Thunar has opened a portal. That’s good. It means he’ll be busy at least.
The old woman drops her jacket and shirt into place again and turns. “We tracked the lines for thousands of years.” Her smile’s a little off. “We lost contact with some offspring, sure, but we kept up with most, including your line.” She points at Liz’s mother.
“You’re saying I’m descended from Gullveig?” Liz’s mother asks. “The one who caused the war between the vanir and the æsir?”
“You’ve been doing your homework,” the woman says. “But the stories foretold that rejoining the lines, one known and one lost, would produce Gullveig once again.”
“But my father,” Liz says, “he has no marks. I’ve seen his back.”
“His mother had his birthmarks removed,” Liz’s mother says. “She found them unsightly.”
“More like she didn’t want him found,” the old woman says. “But we did discover his lineage, and when we found out you were expecting. . .” She shrugs. “Then the baby bore the mark—the heart-shaped birthmark.” She frowns. “But no wings. We thought that maybe she had to be thrown into the volcano to regain those.” Now she beams. “And we were right. Wish we’d gotten her chucked in years ago.”
“Sorry to have disappointed you,” Liz says, but she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
“Oh, dear, you never disappointed us. You were exactly the vicious little thing we knew you would be, and we were able to encourage your parents to get you just the training we knew you’d need.”
I really dislike the old woman, and I have to ignore the impulse to burn her to char.
“You wanted me to be a warrior?”
The old woman grins. “Gullveig was never taught to fight. She wasn’t the champion we needed.”
The bond’s trembling, but I can’t tell whether Liz is more upset or scared.
“Why would you want her to be a warrior?” Liz’s mother asks. “She was just a little girl.”
“Gullveig never united the sky children with the valkyrie line, but she can.” The old woman looks crazy. “Now she’ll be able to rule the entire earth.” The woman’s cackling again. “Valkyries will rise again. Earth children will lead this time.”
Thunar’s supposed to be watching the portal, but instead, he drops to the ground again in the courtyard. He nearly squashes two soldiers, who barely leap out of the way in time. Why are you still here? We’re ready to leave.
“How many more of you are coming?” the old woman asks. “And why did you dragons finally return to earth in the first place?” She cackles. “I’ve been wondering that. Did Gullveig’s birth bring you? Or did your coming prompt her rebirth?”
A small pillar of flame flies out of Thunar’s open mouth and roasts the woman into a black pile in front of us so quickly I can’t even try to stop him. I groan, but it’s too late to do anything else.
She was tiresome, Thunar says, as if that’s a suitable explanation. For a blessed, it is.
Liz’s mouth is dangling open, and the soldier who kept aiming a gun at Thunar finally fires. The bullet does nothing, of course, but I have no idea how Thunar will react.
I don’t expect him to laugh. Let’s go, Gullveig. You have work to do to protect your people up north. He launches into the sky then, never once looking back.
“Are you coming?” Liz is looking at her mother, and she looks a little rattled about the death of that old woman.
But she and her mother both also look a little relieved.
Chapter 15
Liz
One Christmas, Mom got in a big fight with the guy ringing a bell at the grocery store. He hassled her about not donating, and she started rattling off a lot of numbers about where their money actually went. Another Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa gave us necklaces with crosses on them, and Mom got into a screaming match with Dad’s parents in front of the fireplace. Grandpa stumbled and smashed half our presents. Only a few broke, but that wasn’t a highlight.
Another Christmas, the braided hair extensions Mom gave us were all recalled for being fire hazards, and she and Dad got into it over glasses of eggnog on Christmas Eve. I’m not going to say that one of the glasses got thrown across the living room, but I also wouldn’t call someone who said that happened a liar.
