Fenrir's words didn't require a response. I had to make a decision, right now: walk right out, go back to my room and refuse to pander to all these ridiculous demands they were making of me. Or accept it, own it.
Only the knowledge that my friends were here somewhere stopped me from turning my back on Fenrir, turning my back on all of it. I held on to what little hope I had of seeing them again.
But anger still boiled in my gut. I hated being pushed into a corner, having no choice in anything. Resentment simmered somewhere inside me, somewhere deep and dark but hard to ignore. Resentment toward Sigrun, for pulling me out of my real-world dilemma. And Odin, for forcing wings on me without even bothering to tell me what would happen. And Astrid, for trying to kill me for vengeance against a person who'd lived and died centuries ago. And now three pairs of eyes bore down on me, waiting for me to accept the weapon that would be my downfall.
If there had been sufficient space between myself and the table, I would have stomped to it. I really wanted to give in to some kind of childish tantrum. I had far too many responsibilities for my liking. Whatever happened to being a plain old teenager where the worst thing in life was a zit, with unpopularity a close second?
I rolled my shoulders and stepped to the table.
"So if I lift this and I'm not Brunhilde, then I die? Right?"
"No. I do not think so," said Fenrir. "If Brunhilde's blood flows weakly within your veins you will merely become ill and weak for a while. You will recover, so you do not need to fear. You can only be afraid if you do not have any of her blood at all. Then you will die. We know that it was Brunhilde's remains uncovered eighteen years ago in Hovgårten. And we know that your DNA structure contains her DNA too, or you would not have transformed so easily."
Easy? You mean that horrifically painful, mind-blowingly agonizing experience I had in front of Odin and the gathered Valkyries could have been worse?
I shuddered and asked, "So what would've happened if I really didn't have her DNA in me at all? Would I still have become a Valkyrie?"
"No. You would have died. The Mead and the pain would have killed you." Fenrir kept his voice flat, so matter of fact about the possibility of my death. "The only way you would have survived is to receive the Anointing of the Valkyrie. It is a rite in which Odin chooses the woman who will become a Valkyrie. The process is different from what you experienced."
I wanted to gasp for breath, but I pushed the hysteria away, using my anger to claw it back out of my throat. I turned and met Sigrun's apologetic, sad eyes. I should have been angry with her, but she'd been my constant companion, teacher and friend. And her bright cheer had helped me get through this strange transition. Seeing her eyes flat and her smile gone hit me hard.
"So I survived that test, and you think I'll survive this one too." I glared at the sword while I spoke to Fenrir.
"Yes."
I waited a moment, but he said no more.
Well, I suppose one can't argue in the face of such confidence.
I tugged the box closer and flitted my fingers over the seductive silk. The sword gleamed and glittered in the dancing firelight. I ignored the scabbard and slipped my fingers beneath the cool metal. I'd expected the sword to be heavy, but it felt as if it were a mere extension to my hand.
"It's so light. And really well balanced."
Three pent-up breaths released behind me. Fenrir broke the silence first. "It is your own strength that bears the sword. In fact, the sword itself is really heavy, even for a master swordsmith like Njall."
Frowning, I remembered that Njall had grunted with effort as he released the box onto the table. I glanced at Njall, who nodded vigorously, meeting my gaze with glowing pride.
"I guess I'm not dead yet." I faced the three of them, holding the sword flat on my palms. "So . . ."
I didn't need to hear their answer. The fact that I was still alive, still healthy after touching the sword, meant one thing and one thing only.
I really was the Great Valkyrie Brunhilde.
Chapter 22
Fenrir had this strange idea that my survival after touching Brunhilde's sword meant I now possessed all the knowledge, power and skill she'd had when she'd been alive. So the ferocity of his training session the next morning didn't surprise me.
I struggled to catch my breath. We sparred alone on the empty field, and Fenrir kept me too busy to ask where everyone else had gone. Despite the inordinate amount of energy and strength I'd been awarded with since receiving my wings, Fenrir's onslaught of thrusts, parries and jabs left me pretty winded. Bruises purpled my arms below the armor, and my ribs ached from a stray shot he'd landed.
"Now rest. I will be back." He patted my shoulder and walked off.
Did that mean he was satisfied with my performance? Fat chance. I sat on the low wall of stones, drawing the breath back into my lungs, waiting for my thunderous heartbeat to return to something like normal. My stomach burned for lack of breakfast. My pre-training nerves had ruined my appetite, and Turi had hurried away after leaving my tray of fruits and breads. So there'd been no one to force or cajole me to break my fast.
I regretted it now, as my stomach complained. Fenrir returned, a round shield in one hand, large enough to cover him from mid-thigh to chin, and painted with snaking, twisting emblems. He tossed it to me, giving me a split second to think about how to catch this much-too-large Frisbee.
I snatched it from the air, holding onto opposite ends of the circle of wood. I'd heard the thwack-thwack of metal meeting wood during yesterday's and today's practices and now it made sense. Despite the shield's heavy, bulky appearance, it was light and easy to move around.
"Let us try some defensive moves."
Fenrir lowered his body, bending his knees to find his center of gravity. I'd learned to do that during yesterday's practice, after falling a good few times on my rear end. He swung his blade at me, and I deflected the shot easily. But although my instinctive reaction with the shield was a success, a wave of energy from the blow reverberated through the shield and all the way into my arm, right to my bones.
Did I just hear my teeth rattle?
We battled until my arm muscles ached and my hair clung to my face and neck in soggy clumps. At last, he called the end of the session. "You have the basics now. From tomorrow you will spar and practice with the rest of the Valkyries. As you get stronger and more skilled, you will progress to sparring with the Warriors."
Interesting.
I battled against stiffening muscles and limped toward the fence. The other Valkyries filed into the field from another practice area beyond the stone wall, and chatted as they moved around, collecting cloaks and cleaning muddy swords and shields. Fen walked off toward the chattering group.
My ears still rang from the thwack of Fenrir's sword on my shield, so I didn't hear the Valkyrie approach until her voice startled me. "Sigrun says it will not be long before you can go on a Retrieval." Her voice held a bitter edge, and I knew it was Astrid before I turned. The nerve of her, especially after trying to kill me just yesterday! Her eyes rested on the amber pendant. Eyes filled with venom and a strange satisfaction.
"I guess it's up to Fenrir to decide if I'm ready," I replied.
She laughed, her eyes cold and mocking. "No, Brynhildr. It is up to Odin to decide when you are ready." She trailed her eyes up and down my body, from helmet to flushed cheeks, armor to bruises. "I am not so sure you are good enough to qualify. Not yet."
I wished I'd just kept my mouth shut. I'd just given her the means and opportunity to mock my lack of knowledge of the correct procedure. I almost sighed with relief when Fenrir strode back and interrupted us. Almost.
"She is ready for a Retrieval. Perhaps not for full battle, but Retrievals are simple enough," Fenrir growled, reminding me who and what he really was.
"But does she not need an Ulfr?"
"She will need one, but we have not had sufficient time to find Bryn a suitable Ulfr partner," Fenrir replied, the tension in his voice coming off him in waves. When did I develop the ability to read his moods? "Therefore I will be Bryn's Ulfr for this Retrieval."
Astrid laughed. A bitter, cackling sound that hurt my ears. She gestured toward a bruise on my arm. "This is what you call 'ready for Retrieval'? I see we have lowered our standards. I think I shall be speaking to Freya about this fiasco. I wonder what she will say."
She turned her back on us and stormed off before either Fenrir or I could answer her.
"So when do I get my Ulfr?" I raised a questioning brow.
Fenrir drew his eyes from Astrid's retreating back, clearly distracted. "A Valkyrie rides to Retrieval with a wolf. And they are meant to be a hunting pair. Since we haven't reached that stage of your training, I will substitute for your Ulfr until we get you paired up with one. Of course, Odin may feel you are not ready yet anyway, so let us wait until he makes a decision."
"And what did she mean about Freya?" I threw a dark glare at the disappearing figure of Astrid.
"The goddess Freya is due to arrive in Asgard soon. She comes to collect her share of the Warriors you gather."
"That doesn't sound fair. How does Odin feel about that?"
Fenrir laughed. "It is their agreement. They are both readying their armies for the Great War. And Freya is the General of the Valkyrie regiment as well. The agreement was they would both share the Warriors equally. Every three moons Freya arrives to meet with Odin. Sometimes there is a family gathering with all the gods. But in the end, half the new batch of Warriors will leave with Freya."