Page 3

2

The day had just dawned when Sigrid rose. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and bound her long golden hair into a tight ponytail. Sometimes she considered hacking it off so that it didn’t get in her way, but people had dubbed her Sigrid the Golden due to her hair. In her youth, her hair had been so light that it was almost white, but as she had matured, it had grown darker. There were still strands that appeared silvery, but for the most part, she glowed like the sun. Sigrid also wore rough, ragged clothes.

She picked up her wooden sword.

“Where are you going?” a sleepy voice asked. It was Astrid, one of her adoptive sisters. Her hair was as bright as a flame, as was the hair of each of her sisters.

“I’m going for a walk,” Sigrid replied.

“It’s so early. Why don’t you stay here? We have our chores to do, remember?”

“I don’t care about chores.”

“You’ll only get punished again.”

“I don’t care about that either.”

“You don’t care about anything. What do you care about, Sigrid?” Astrid asked.

Another of her sisters stirred and moaned, telling them to be quiet, as they were trying to sleep. Sigrid glared at Astrid but left without answering the question. There were plenty of things that Sigrid cared about, not that she was eager to share them with her adopted family.

She clutched the wooden sword in her grip, curling her hands so tightly around the leather-bound handle that it bit into her palm. She swiped it along as she walked through the village. The dew was still fresh on the grass, making it glisten, and the air was sweet and fresh. Her arms were slender, and her body lean. She practiced various strikes to ensure that she could perfect the technique for when she really needed it.

She made her way to the market. Even though it was early, most of the stalls were already up and the merchants were ready to trade.

“You! Yes, you! Come here. I think I have the perfect thing for you,” one of the traders said. Sigrid turned her neck to look at him and marched over, a permanent scowl etched upon her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Look, a lovely emblem of Freya, perfect for a maiden such as yourself. It’s said to be blessed and will help you win the favor of a man as strong as Thor and as wise as Odin himself,” the merchant said, holding out an intricately carved necklace. If Sigrid had a mind for pretty things, then she might well have been interested, but instead, she rolled her eyes.

“I need no man,” she said in a hollow tone.

The merchant looked shocked. “You might think that’s true now, but just you wait…every man needs a woman, and every woman needs a man. That is the law the gods set down upon us. If you want to find the right one, then you should make sure to wear this. It’s pure folly to spurn the blessings of the gods.”

“The gods are a curse,” she said, loudly enough that others overheard her.

“What did you say?” one man asked. He was standing at a nearby stall but quickly made his way across to where Sigrid was standing. She tilted her head and regarded him. He looked to be a fisherman or farmer.

“I said that the gods are a curse, and anyone who tries to live by their will is going to end up being made a fool of,” Sigrid said.

There were gasps and murmurs of unease rippling around her. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing. How dare you! The gods are the ones who write our destinies. Why would you welcome their ire like this? Do you want them to strike you down?”

“I welcome it,” Sigrid sneered. “In fact, I would like one of them to come down here right now and talk with me so I can ask them questions.”

“You…you would dare to question the gods? You are mad, woman! I will not stand here and have them be spoken about in this way. I will fight on their behalf. I will defend them!”

“If they were as mighty as you say, then they would not need defending by the likes of you,” Sigrid said bluntly and turned away, deciding that this man wasn’t worth her time. But the man had decided otherwise.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” he said, and threw an ornament at her. It hit her back, just between her shoulder blades. A flash of pain appeared but was quickly quelled by the anger. She turned with fury in her eyes and shrieked like a Valkyrie as she rushed up to him. The man hadn’t expected this and lifted his arms, cowering before her. She slapped her wooden sword against his arm. The blade was flat, so although it wouldn’t cut him, it would still leave a deep bruise, and Sigrid did not hold back on any of her strength. There were audible gasps from those who were looking on. The man fell to the ground and lifted his arms up in surrender. Sigrid had the sword hovering above him. She glared at the others.

“Does anyone else dare to challenge the way I speak about the gods?” she asked.

People shook their heads and turned their gazes away. Sigrid stormed off. She knew that they would still be talking about her, commenting to each other that the gods would see justice come to her quickly, but Sigrid didn’t care about that. She had already seen what the gods could do. They let good people die. It was folly to believe that the gods would take care of them. The only person anyone could rely on was themselves.

She left the market after this and arrived at the training camp, where all the hopeful warriors trained with each other to win the favor of the chief and be made a part of the army. At first, they fought hand to hand, and then they progressed to fighting with wooden swords. Sigrid believed she had done enough to earn a mightier weapon, but as yet, she had not been granted such a boon. She was the only girl in the training camp, and she had proven herself worthier than the boys repeatedly, yet still, she was not given the respect she deserved.

She trained hard, pushing herself beyond her limits. Sweat streaked down her muscles, and her cheeks were flushed. Aches appeared all along her body, to the point where pain became the overriding feeling inside. But the pain was what she needed. It was what was familiar to her, and pain was just a barrier to her becoming strong.