Valhellions, p.15
Valhellions, page 15
“Drunk and fighting,” Tembo said. “That counts as hospitality in some places.”
The tiny door beneath the stairs led to a long, dark hallway, its ceiling a low archway that branched off to half a dozen cubbies and coat closets before terminating in the kitchen. A black-iron wood stove radiated forge-like heat in an otherwise modern kitchen. Lillie paid us no mind as we filed in, and it wasn’t long before the space was crowded. I started to sweat through my hauberk. Lillie continued to ignore us.
“Is there something we can do to help?” I asked.
“Sit,” she said sternly. When none of us moved, she took me by the shoulders and marched me to a small linoleum table in the corner with a plastic-coated bench that squeaked as she slid me down its length. The rest of Knight Watch followed my involuntary example. There wasn’t enough space for all of us, but Lillie somehow made it work. When we were seated, the older valkyrie bustled back to the stove and busied herself with a dizzying array of kettles, pans, and a battle-scarred cleaver that looked like it could cut the head off a giant with a single blow. It made me wonder what was boiling in that pot on the stove.
“I don’t understand what’s happening here,” I said after a few awkward moments of sitting, squished too close together, while the former valkyrie made us lunch. “Shouldn’t we be tearing this place apart, looking for the Tears?”
“You want to keep your voice down, Rast?” Chesa hissed. “We’re here as allies, not as an invading army! We’re supposed to be the heroes.”
“I mean, sure, the heroes. But Hildr said they dumped them, and we know that’s a lie because Percy here can still smell them. So it’s not like they’re being straight with us!”
“You are very bad at whispering,” Lillie said, looming over us. She leaned past me and distributed a round of soup served in cheap plastic bowls. The soup was the color of dishwater, and contained pearly white chunks of meat that could have been anything. “And Hildr is very bad at lying. Obviously we have not thrown out the Tears. That would be foolish.”
“Why did she lie?” Chesa asked. Bethany huddled next to her, pushing her spoon around her soup bowl and grimacing. I looked down at my bowl. The bowl looked back. At least half a dozen eyes, some as large as a dime, stared at me with glassy apathy. I swallowed the bile that was rushing up my throat.
“Because you are either from Esther, or you are from Runa. And in either case, you are not to be trusted.” She went back to the stove, collected her cleaver, then returned to the table and stood there with the knife in hand, fists pressed firmly against her hips. “But you seem like nice people, and I don’t think we want to have to kill you just yet. Why are you not eating?”
“Besides the constant threats of murder, you mean . . . ?” I muttered to myself.
“What is this, exactly?” Bethany asked.
“Fish soup. Walleye.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to include the eyes,” Bethany said.
“Are you sure?” Lillie asked. “It’s in the name.”
“Positive.”
“Hmm. That may explain many things,” Lillie said. “Well, eat around them. I won’t throw away good fish just because it’s a little heavy on the eyes.”
“Can we get back to the question of whether or not you’ll have to kill us just yet?” I asked. “That feels important.”
“Personally, I have nothing against either of them,” Lillie said. “Esther can be a little harsh, and sometimes forgets that most people still have their souls, but she’s a good fighter. I would do battle at her side. And Runa . . . well, Runa isn’t exactly a born leader, but she means well.”
“Why are you talking to them?” Hildr asked as she bustled into the room. She was wearing a Kevlar vest with arm guards, the surface of which was dented and torn. “Have they not eaten the eyes yet?”
“They saw the eyes, and will not eat. And even if they hadn’t, you have now told them about the eyes,” Lillie said with an eyeroll. “I’m sorry. It is a trick the trolls taught us. Getting people to eat eyes lets you see inside them, if you do it right.”
“You probably overcooked them, anyway,” Hildr said, tearing the Velcro sleeves off the vest and tossing them on the table. They were slick with dog slobber. “So what do we do now?”
“Maybe we just have a civilized conversation?” Tembo asked. “You are correct, we are with Knight Watch, sent here by Esther MacRae to retrieve the Tears of Freya. But I do not think that makes us particularly untrustworthy.”
“Hel’s tits, it doesn’t,” Hildr spat. “She already tried to steal them once back in Mexico.”
“That was Mississippi. In Mexico, it was Runa, and then the Russians.” Lillie sighed and folded her arms, nearly taking off Gregory’s head with that cleaver. “We thought we had finally escaped their notice.”
“I’m sorry, but that seems unlikely,” Tembo said. “I have been with Knight Watch for a very long time, and we have never attempted to retrieve this item. We aren’t a very large organization, madam.”
“This might have been before Knight Watch officially formed. When did you say she came after you?” Bethany asked.
“Shortly after the war. All of this, shortly after the war. We had just been given the assignment, and all the involved interests made a play for the Tears. Including your captain,” Hildr said. “We had just surrendered our powers and were not yet comfortable with the mundane world. I think they thought we would be easy marks.”
“They thought wrong,” Lillie said with an affectionate smile, then turned her attention to us. “We moved around a lot after this. But when no one came after many, many years, we thought the pressure might be off. That’s when we bought this place. I thought we would be able to settle down, maybe even retire. I am not the young girl I once was. Nor are you, Hildr.”
“I’m young enough to kick these children to the curb, with or without our powers.”
“We aren’t here to take the Tears by force,” Chesa said. “But things in Valhalla have changed. We need your help, and we need the Tears.”
“Things are always changing in Valhalla,” Hildr said with a dismissive snort. “How are they so much worse now?”
So we told them. We described the attack at the convention center, then again in Valhalla, and the theft of the Totenschreck. And finally we told them how Runa had expelled us from Valhalla and taken the Naglfr from us. Hildr snorted.
“Losing that ship is something of a blessing. We were always trying to pawn that horrible thing off on enthusiastic heroes and greedy mortals. Runa probably gave it to Esther out of spite. But the rest . . .” Her voice trailed off. “What do you think, Lillie?”
The older valkyrie didn’t answer. She was busy drying dishes by the old farm sink, her hands red and chapped from the hot water. Her mouth was pressed into a tight line. When she answered, her voice was as stern as iron.
“Lillie?” Hildr prompted.
“I am thinking, woman!” Lillie snapped. “I am thinking, and washing dishes, and trying to keep this house together. The sheets in the Folksvangr suite need to be changed, and the bathrooms cleaned, and I still haven’t gotten the garden weeded. And now this! This, of all things, at all times.” She threw her dishrag into the soap water and rubbed the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “It’s just bloody bad timing.”
“There is no good time for things like this,” Tembo said quietly. “As with most disasters. They are disastrous.”
“We were safe here. We were comfortable. And we’re not hurting anyone,” Lillie said. “Why did you have to come here? We’ve hidden for decades. We could have hidden for decades more.”
“We found you,” I said. “And if we can do it, it stands to reason that the valhellions could find you as well.”
“That’s terrible logic,” Hildr said sharply. “And an even worse name. Valhellions. Odin’s foul breath, that’s got Esther all over it.”
“She has a point,” Percy said. “You only found them because you had me, and it’s safe to assume there aren’t many people like me left, if any at all.”
“But there might be a few left. We don’t know how many of the sword’s victims survived the war, or where they may be hiding,” I said. Percy shrugged and went back to his soup, which he seemed determined to eat at least a little bit of, if only to be polite. I turned my attention to the pair of retired valkyries. “You must have some idea of who in Valhalla would be looking for the Tears, and who would be willing and able to steal the sword in the first place.”
Hildr and Lillie exchanged meaningful looks. Lillie, muttering, went back to her dishes. Hildr cleared her throat meaningfully.
“We are not comfortable discussing this in the present company,” she said.
“Present company? What’s that supposed to . . .” I followed her piercing stare to Percy, who was chewing experimentally on a mouthful of eyes. “Oh. I get it. Ranks of the dead, and all that.”
Percy looked up when he realized the general silence that had fallen over our company. He glanced from me, to Hildr, to the rest of the team. Then he slowly opened his mouth and let the eyes, unchewed, fall back into their soup.
“Am I imposing?” he asked politely.
“This man fought under Freya’s banner in the war. He bears the mark of Totenschreck, and will always be beholden to its will,” Hildr said. “Now that the sword once again strides the stage of history, you must know that he cannot be trusted.” Hildr slammed her fist down on the crowded kitchen table, upsetting several bowls and spraying eyeball soup across the party. “He is an abomination!”
There followed a long and awkward silence. Percy cleared his throat, very neatly folded his napkin, and stood up.
“I see that I am not welcome here. That’s fine. I believe I saw a garden on my way in. Perhaps the flowers will be more welcoming.”
He marched out with a stiff lip and stiffer back, though it was clear he was hurt. Hildr watched him go, waiting until he was outside before she turned back to us with a sniff. “Well, now that that’s settled . . . What?”
We stared daggers at the old valkyrie. Tembo sat back, his arms folded, while Chesa and I glowered at her like disapproving housewives.
“That was very rude,” Chesa chided. “He’s a pleasant if odd old man, just trying to do what’s right.”
“He’s a damned draugr, bound to the will of a cursed sword, wielded by a madman,” Lillie said without turning around. “Be happy he is in the garden, and not burning on a pyre. For now.”
“You’re going to get some pretty bad reviews with that kind of hospitality,” I said. “Guests don’t like seeing human bonfires out their window.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We would do it in the basement, by the altar,” Lillie said. “You can never be too careful with the draugr.”
“Well, now that you’ve been rude to our friend and tried to serve us eyeballs, do you think you could tell us where the Tears are?” Bethany asked. “Or at least who might be trying to steal them?”
Lillie shrugged majestically, drawing a resigned sigh from Hildr. But she answered.
“There have always been factions within the valkyries. Runa’s rebellion during the war made her a lot of enemies . . . enemies who ended up dead once Esther MacRae got involved,” Hildr said. “That’s why we were cut off from Valhalla. Not even Runa Hellesdottir could be trusted with Freya’s Tears.”
“So what makes the two of you so special? Why did they trust you, of all the valkyries?” Bethany asked.
“Because we were the ones who tried to stop Freya in the first place, when the war first started. Some of us tried to stop the forging of the sword you call Totenschreck. Freya found out, and sent her lieutenant to hunt us down,” Lillie said. “Hildr and I were the only ones to survive. Freya stripped us of our wings as punishment, and sent us to Earth, to die with the rest of the mortals in the middle of a war. We barely escaped with our lives.”
“That sounds awful,” Chesa said.
“It was. And worse? The valkyrie they sent to hunt us down, the sister who killed our friends and returned the sword to Freya?” Hildr put a gnarled hand on Lillie’s shoulder, as though to hold her friend up. “Her name was Runa. Runa Hellesdottir. The new queen of Valhalla.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Stunned silence settled over the kitchen. The only sound was Lillie, working furiously at cleaning the stains off a jam jar.
“Wait. So the woman in charge of protecting the sword also gave it to Freya in the first place?” I asked. “Explains why she was a bit dodgy back there.”
“How many people know this?” Tembo asked. “Esther and I have discussed the end of the war many times. She has never mentioned Runa’s role beyond her betrayal of the valkyries, and the signing of the peace.”
“That’s because Runa has tried to bury her past, just as she buried my friends,” Hildr said. “Not even Esther knows of her role in the forging of Totenschreck. I would not be surprised if she already knows who is doing all this. In fact—”
“There is a man in the garden,” Lillie said, quite suddenly. She was standing straight as an arrow, the jar forgotten in her hands.
“Of course there is a man in the garden. It is that zombie man, the Brit,” Hildr reminded her.
“No. A different man. He looks very . . . dramatic,” Lillie answered. “Like a dirge in the shape of a man.”
Knight Watch stood as one. Tembo rushed to the window, with Bethany at his side and Gregory close behind. They crowded Lillie out of the way.
“It’s him,” Tembo confirmed. “How did he find us?”
“You probably led him here. You or that damned draugr,” Hildr said as she swept the shotgun off its stand. The old valkyrie cracked the breach, checked the load, then snapped it shut again. “I’ll see the bastard off.”
“Let the heroes do their jobs,” I said, stepping forward. With a shrug I slipped my shield off my back. It crawled down my arm on leather legs that spun around my wrist, securing it in place. “If he gets past us you can fill him full of buckshot.”
“Magic shield, eh? Never thought much of magic shields,” Hildr said. “You can only protect yourself for so long before you must strike. I prefer a good sword.”
“The lady knows what she’s talking about,” Gregory said with a smile. He whipped the zweihander from his back, the silver blade slithering like a razor sharp snake in the kitchen’s harsh light. “Let’s get out there and cut this moron down to size.”
“Patience. There’s no way he’s alone out there,” Tembo said, flicking the kitchen curtains aside to get a better view of the garden.
“He looks pretty alone to me,” Bethany answered. “In that kind of performative loneliness sort of way.”
I shouldered my way to the front of the small mob that was crowded around Lillie’s kitchen window. The view was entirely rural, except for the looming profile of a swordsman standing in the middle of the garden path. He wore the same black, hooded cloak that I had first seen at the Mickleville Convention Center, but now it seemed to fit him better. A glimmer of steel around his eyes revealed that the cheap Halloween mask had been upgraded again, and I could see more traditional armor plating at knee and elbow. He could be wearing full plate under that cloak. With sword out to one side, and his off hand held waist high with palm facing the sky, it looked like he was posing for us, waiting to be seen.
“However he got here, however he found us, this has gone on long enough,” I said. “Chesa, you and Tem stay close to the house. Give us whatever support you can without getting too close. Remember what that sword did at the convention. One cut and you’re down.” I drew my sword and tested the fit of the shield against my shoulder. A few pulls on the cords wrapped around my hand and the shield grew into a full bulwark, tall enough to protect me from head to toe. “Greg, you and I are going to go out there and see what this guy’s got. Bethany, see if you can get behind him without being seen.”
“My kind of plan,” Gregory said. “Give me one good swing at him and he’ll be totenSHRIEKing, heh.”
“And who made you team lead?” Bethany asked.
“He made himself lead,” Tembo said. “We have you, warden. Be careful.”
“If mind-numbing fear is careful, then careful is my middle name. You guys ready?”
“Sure, whatever.” Bethany flipped up the hood of her cloak and disappeared into a cloud of swirling shadow. Tembo gave a stiff nod.
“There an upper window I can shoot from?” Chesa asked as she strung her bow. Lillie nodded and led Chesa out of the kitchen.
“Are we going to wait for her to get in place?” Gregory asked.
“I don’t think we have that kind of time,” I said. “Tembo can provide air support until Chesa finds her spot. And I’m pretty sure Bee’s already out there. Right, Bee?” There was no answer, and she hates being called Bee, so Bethany was definitely already in the garden somewhere. “Let’s get moving.”
We came out of the kitchen door and spread out, with the saint, Tembo, and Hildr guarding the house while Greg and I made straight for the black-clad swordsman. Low clouds swirled overhead, and the wind was picking up. My steel boots sank into the thick mud of the garden path. There was no sign of Bethany, or Percy, or anyone else. Just the swordsman and the storm overhead. The man tilted his head in our direction, almost in greeting. The blade was a peculiar black merging into deep green, without any sort of reflection on its surface. Silver-sick mist wafted off its trailing edge.
“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your vacation,” the edgelord said. His voice scraped through the air like quiet thunder, a lot different from the earlier squeaky indignation. With one gloved hand he drew back his hood. The skull mask was now a full skeletal helm, with only his mouth uncovered. Bright blue eyes stared at us from the skull’s empty sockets. “But you have taken something of mine, and I want it back.”
“Then you should have brought help,” I said. “Cuz we’re ready for you this time!”
