Valkyries swooped in, one angling for us. However, Freyja appeared out of nothing and stood in the Valkyrie’s path.
“This soul is mine,” she said solemnly.
The Valkyrie looked taken aback, as was I, but not because of Freyja’s claim.
“You can’t claim souls, Freyja,” the Valkyrie said.
The war goddess set hard eyes on the winged woman. “All those who died honorably protecting Astrid and Randi have earned the highest honor of entering Fólkvangr. Those souls belong to me.”
Freyja had been collecting souls for her own for some time, but had always done so in secret. How she did this with Valkyries around collecting their own Valhalla souls, I never knew. But this was the first time she’d revealed what place of rest she’d created for the most honorable warriors.
With our issues with Odinn, and the promise of Ragnarök by the godly dragons so long ago, it was wise for us to prepare our own warrior souls separate from Valhalla.
Without waiting for the Valkyrie to respond, Freyja reached for Randi. Astrid watched, tears streaking down her cheeks and ruining her war makeup. Freyja caressed Randi’s cold face, murmuring a prayer of claiming, and it was done.
The war goddess touched Astrid’s head with a gentle hand and then moved to the next worthy warrior to ascend with Randi. Astrid calmed to the occasional sniffle. Leif shook, struggling to hold himself together, and Bjørn gazed longingly at his lost wife. He would mourn in private, as a seasoned warrior did.
With the battle done, those who had fought with the king surrendered. Geir’s eldest son took over seeing the warriors home, including the fallen. Geir was retrieved as well.
We gathered our dead. During this, the ground rumbled under the thunder of horse hooves. I jerked my attention toward the direction of Runavík to see the approaching rider. Rune abandoned his current duty. “Ilka?”
His eldest daughter pulled on her horse’s reins, drawing the beast up short. She wore half-armor and had a shield, but no weapon. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was no shield-maiden. However, she knew how to organize, so Jarl Rune had tasked her with handling the protections back at the village, should the king manage to break through our lines and try and destroy it.
“Leif,” she called out. “Frida has gone into labor.”
Leif bolted over to her, his eyes wild. “Now?”
“I wouldn’t have risked coming here if she wasn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have come at all,” Rune said.
She ignored her father and kept her focus on Leif. “You need to leave with me now.”
Astrid rushed past me and grabbed her brother and Ilka. “I’m faster.”
The three of them disappeared before everyone’s very eyes, leaving behind a now-riderless horse. Not surprisingly, that earned a mixed reaction from those who witnessed. Astrid hadn’t used the ability in front of anyone yet. She wanted to be sure she had it down before revealing it.
As worried as I was about Astrid using it now, I couldn’t deny my pride, either. Even after using so much magic, she had the confidence in herself and the time to recover from battle, to safely get her brother back to his wife so the two could help her bring new life into the world.
My gaze shifted to Bjørn. He hadn’t moved, still cradling his wife. I grabbed the abandoned horse and led it to the grieving man.
As a god, I didn’t pray. The only thing above us was the dragons, and they didn’t hear prayer. But this time, I did send a private thanks to creation for this piece of light in the dark for Astrid and her family.
Chapter Eleven
Týr
A soft breeze blew, bringing with it the scent of flowers and the early Haustmánuður chill. Drums and other instruments played, my heart beating a rhythm of anticipation. Mortals, gods, and other allied immortals gathered around me at the river, waiting for the one boat I longed to see. My hand gripped the hilt of my sword strapped to my hip. We’d spent two winters planning this event, and now that the day was upon us, it hardly felt real.
Fenrir and Baldr took turns nudging and taunting while Freyr watched them bemusedly.
My back straightened when the dragonhead of the boat appeared around the bend. Leif and Bjørn stood on either end of the boat, rowing with the current.
My fingers tingled, and my insides coiled. My red-haired Valkyrie sat atop a flower throne, Freyja standing with her. She was stunning in her cerulean-colored dress and fur shawl. An ornate floral crown adorned her head, and her gorgeous red hair had been tamed back into an intricate pattern of braids.
A little girl with pale hair sat on Astrid’s lap—Leif and Frida’s daughter, Randi, named in honor of her grandmother.
Including the toddler wasn’t traditional, but nothing about our wedding would be. Traditionally, mortals included Thor in their rituals. But with my continued poor relationship with the god, Astrid and I both agreed we would remove him from the celebration. Baby Randi took the place of one of the traditional rituals, where a replica of Thor’s hammer would have been placed on Astrid’s lap on this boat ride, mixed with Freyja’s presence as both fertility goddess and a stand-in for Astrid’s mother. This change still had the same feel the mortals were after, but respected our decision.
