"Another misconception. Odin needs powerful Warriors to fight for him. He never would have demanded his Warriors be only men. Our women fight too; just look at all our Valkyries. They are just as strong as the men." Sigrun shook her head. "I think too many of the professors who think they know all about our history are men. You need some women to explain some of this to your men."
"You are probably more right than you realize." I smiled. Strange how spot-on this Valkyrie was in spite of being stuck here in Asgard, safe from the rolling machine of technology.
But now my thoughts turned to Aimee, driven to her death by a cancer so vicious it had eaten her alive. "What if someone dies of a disease?" I asked. "One of the girls was ill, really ill. She died of cancer."
"Then she would still come to Valhalla to fight. Her illness is of no consequence, as it ailed her while she was alive. All the Warriors come to Valhalla in their afterlife. Even if they had a limb removed, they would get it back." She nodded as I raised my eyebrows. "Yes, it is true. Although we retrieve the mortal remains, we are also retrieving the soul and the spirit. Both spirit and soul help to heal the body, and bring back both strength and power."
We continued walking, and I turned Sigrun's words over in my head. It made a funny sort of sense. But what about Brody?
"Sigrun." I touched her arm and turned her to me. "There was a little boy, about ten years old, who had the glow around him? What does that mean?"
"Oh. That means his Valkyrie never had the opportunity to retrieve him in his previous life. With every Warrior, if for some reason Retrieval does not occur within three moons of the day of death, the soul moves on to the next life. When that happens we just wait until we have the opportunity, probably within the first few years of the Warrior's life. Usually such a Warrior will have a very short life."
"But what happens when you retrieve him? He’s just a little boy. How can a small child be a Warrior in a battle?" I shook my head. It all sounded way too bizarre.
"He does not come to Valhalla in that form. He will revert to the form in which his soul lived in his previous life. The soul knows what shape and size would be appropriate for Valhalla. You see, the soul is intelligent. It knows what the Warrior needs. It is because of the soul that the body regenerates lost limbs, purges disease and strengthens itself for battle."
I had to admit it made sense, a sort of fantastical sense.
What I had to try to digest was that Brody was a Warrior of Valhalla, one of the chosen. He was now Odin's soldier and he would soon be here in Valhalla. Along with my other friends who'd glowed with such a painfully beautiful light, and then died.
My heart quickened, and I grabbed a fence post to steady myself. I would see Brody and Joshua and Aimee again.
Chapter 19
Sigrun kept me so busy, I didn't get much of a chance to think about my friends from Craven. Once she got over her surprise that I could already see the golden auras of the Warriors, she whisked me off the training field. Before we left, she threw Fenrir a parting command to be ready to instruct me during the Valkyries' training session the next morning. Fenrir, eyebrows raised in surprise, just nodded.
We returned to the castle and made our way to a huge hall filled with long tables. The tables in the large warm space slowly filled with small groups of people. My stomach growled, loud enough for me to look around in embarrassment. But the desperate level of my hunger went unnoticed in the bustling hall.
The aroma of cooked meat wafted through the room and twisted my stomach with incredible yearning. Sigrun pointed me to two empty seats and disappeared toward a trio of huge hearths. Monstrous pots hung over crackling flames, huge bouts of steam rising from them. Beside them, spitted beef and smaller cuts of meat roasted above the flames, dripping juices, which spat merrily in the heat of the coals.
Sigrun negotiated the tricky route, dodging around other Valkyries and Warriors, and managed to return safely to our table, bearing two wooden platters filled with meat and bowls of steaming, stewed vegetables.
She grabbed the seat beside me. "Here you go. Your first real meal in Asgard. Enjoy." Then she proceeded to eat with a fierce gusto terribly unfitting for such a demure and ladylike girl.
I hid a smile, savoring the rich juiciness of the meat and the tenderly cooked vegetables. And then, as if some magical mind-reader had cast his eye over me, a serving girl placed a goblet at my side. She disappeared before I could thank her. I swallowed, half-hoping it was the delicious Mead, but the liquid tasted more like a stale beer. Despite my disappointment, I drank deeply, grateful as it slid down my parched throat and quenched my thirst.
"So what's next on the agenda for me?" I asked between mouthfuls of the tender beef.
Sigrun swallowed a bite and said, "Training with Fenrir first thing in the morning."
"That's nice of him," I murmured, not too sure I liked the idea of being trained by the man who was a beast. Or was it the beast who was a man?
"No, the Valkyries and Warriors train through the day," Sigrun said. "Sometimes we train together but mostly we work within our regiments. Fenrir moves within the fields, going where he is needed. And tomorrow Fenrir will concentrate on you. All the new Valkyries get additional training to get them prepared. And you do have a lot to learn."
Cheerful dinnertime conversation rose and fell around us. The sound of camaraderie. I wondered how many of those around me had lived for hundreds of years. Wondered what it was like to live forever doing the same thing every day.
"So that's the timetable? Training, lunch, more training, bathe, then dinner?" It seemed like nothing much happened here besides fighter training, if that was the routine of the day.
Sigrun shook her head. "Not at all. Some days there are Retrievals. Other days we have sparring matches with the Warriors. If you belong to a scout team then you will leave Asgard for short periods of time." She drained her goblet.
"No time to rest then?"
"We do not require time to rest. Valkyries and Warriors have strength. It is the nature of who we are and what we do. We live very long lives. We have been gifted with the strength to endure the battles, to endure the passing of time." Sigrun scanned my face, her features thoughtful, as if she were choosing her words carefully. "Have you felt your need for food diminish in the last few weeks?"
I nodded.
"Water?"
I nodded again, wondering where she was going with this line of questions.
"Sleep?"
"Yeah, now that you mention sleep, I haven't been sleeping much these days. I can actually get by on a couple of hours." I shook my head. Why hadn't I noticed this before? Perhaps I'd been so absorbed with the golden auras, and Joshua's death. My ridiculous sham of a romance with Aidan. Brody. "But I slept like a baby after my wings appeared."
I'd barely been able to keep my eyes open after the torture of the Rites of the Valkyrie.
"That was the power of Mead," Sigrun responded between mouthfuls.
"So what exactly is this Mead? I remember reading that it was a drink of the gods."
"Yes, the Mead is the drink of the gods, the Milk of Strength. The goat Heidrun produces the Mead, which keeps the Warriors, the einherjar, strong."
"Ayn what?" I frowned.
"Einherjar. It is the Norse word for Warrior or fighter." Sigrun laughed and shook her head at my confusion. "The Mead regenerates the Warriors after a battle or after training. It heals wounds, soothes muscles, relaxes. It is why the Warriors on the field do not fear being wounded."
"I would've thought they wouldn't fear mere flesh wounds since they were dead anyway."
"No, you must not think that at all. The einherjar and the Valkyries are all very much alive. The Warriors who have been retrieved have been given life again. The beautiful glow they possess means their death will not be final."
"Won't that make them zombies?" I smiled behind my goblet, before draining it.
"Zombies? What is this thing you call zombies." Little furrows wrinkled Sigrun's forehead.
"They are people who have been dead but are brought back to life," I said. Sigrun nodded, so I continued. "They usually look horrible, with dead, half-decomposed bodies, and go around killing people."
I gave Sigrun the standard Thriller Zombie stance complete with raised arms and flared fingers. Her expression stayed blank. She didn't seem amused or impressed with my reenactment. In fact, she didn't even crack a smile. Just looked at me as if I were a demented creature best put out of its misery.
"You have some strange beliefs in this modern world of yours." Sigrun shook her head sadly. "The scout teams go out into Midgard and bring back stories of your world. To be honest, I have never wanted to visit your world simply because of your strange beliefs. I believe I may have been right in my choice."
"I'm sorry, I was just teasing." I touched her arm, hoping to coax a smile, and I was relieved when she offered a tiny one.
"Never mind that. How do you feel today? I hope we have not taxed you too much."
"Oh, I feel fine," I said. "Really good, actually. And I want to thank you for being so nice to me."
Her smile was gracious.
As I turned back to my plate, the hairs on my neck lifted. Someone was watching us. Watching me. I raised my eyes slightly and caught Astrid staring at me, three tables over. From this distance I couldn't hear her words, but her expression made it easy enough to make out her feelings. Why did she dislike me?