CHAPTER EIGHT
Runa led us outside by a side door. The clamor of drunken brawling and shouting crowds was immediately replaced with a chorus of birdsong. The air, which inside smelled like dried blood and spilled mead and sweat, was filled with the scent of fresh rain and untrammeled sod. A cold breeze blew down from the surrounding peaks. I took a deep breath and released it in a contented sigh.
“It really is very pleasant here,” Tembo said.
“Don’t get used to it,” Esther answered. “All this is turning into wolf-chow the second Ragnarok starts.”
“Hopefully I’ll have something to say about that,” Runa said. “Our gathered dead have been training for centuries.”
“Somehow, I don’t think the end of the world is going to be settled with a volleyball match,” Chesa said. Runa laughed and shook her head.
“Every contest is a battle, no matter how harmless it seems.” She looked over to where Mr. Valhalla was greeting another contingent of contestants, escorted by three or four valkyries. The enormous man was shouting, “You’re a failure!” into their faces at the top of his lungs. “And they like the competition!”
“I’m sure they do,” Esther said. “So are we going to sneak behind the dumpsters to smoke, or are we going to talk about our little problem?”
“Not here. We will be seen, and the honored dead will worry,” Runa said. “Come, this way.”
The valkyrie turned and headed up the path. Gregory followed eagerly, but Esther hesitated.
“She’s hiding something from us,” Bethany said quietly.
“Yeah,” Esther answered. “The question is what. And why.”
“Want me to stay behind and watch the hall?” Bethany asked. She was already disappearing, the edges of her form wisping into mist. Esther shook her head.
“I don’t want to arouse suspicion,” she said. “Stay with us for now. But be ready to move on a moment’s notice. All of you.”
Runa led us to a rocky platform that overlooked the grassy field in front of the hall. The golden boughs of the tree hid the entrance, but I could still hear the mead-soaked revelry. I wasn’t sure what phase of the competition had begun, but it seemed to involve singing and the rhythmic clashing of shields. The sun was beginning to set, and the tree threw long shadows across the plain.
The tall valkyrie stood at the edge of the precipice, staring down on her domain. In the harsh shadows of the late evening, she looked like a statue commemorating grief.
“What’s going on, Runa?” Esther asked quietly. “What are you hiding?”
She didn’t answer for a long time. We shifted uncomfortably on our seats, but Runa didn’t move an inch. Finally she let out a sigh worthy of an immortal being tasked with training the rowdy dead for a fight that might never come. She turned to face us.
“Valhalla is a delicate place, Captain,” she said. “We drink our mead and we sing our songs, but in the end, we are all just dead warriors. We have already lost everything there is to lose, everything but the battle in front of us, and the battle to come. I would protect them from losing that, as well.”
“What are you talking about?” Esther said.
“Yeah, this seems like a pretty peachy deal, to me,” Bethany said. “Do you need more gorgeous men? I’m sure we could find some volunteers in the real world. I think your marketing just needs a quick polish.”
“They grow restless,” Runa answered. “The dead, yes, but especially the valkyries. We were promised a final battle at the end of an age. But our numbers have stagnated, and those few recruits we get are more interested in the party than the training.”
“Be glad your ranks aren’t needed. Ragnarok seems like a pretty bad deal for everyone involved,” Esther said.
“To you, perhaps. To us . . . it is our destiny. And there are those who would rush that destiny, before it is meant to arrive.”
“You have people in there trying to kickstart the end of the world?” Chesa asked. “That’s insane!”
“I don’t know,” Matthew said. “We have a few of those in the ranks of the saints. Depends on your point of view, and what you expect to get out of it.”
“Runa, if there are elements within Valhalla working to start Ragnarok, then that’s something we need to know about. Something we need to prevent.”
“They don’t mean to start Ragnarok. But they’re tired of hiding in the Unreal.” Runa sat on the ledge and folded one knee over the other, pulling her battle skirt up to her thigh. There was a lot of leg there to admire, and I quickly looked somewhere else. “Dragons and the fae may be content lurking in the shadows of cubicles and doing yoga, but that is not for the valkyries. We are not soccer moms, and never will be.”
“You read the report. It looks familiar to me. That sword sounds a lot like the Totenschreck,” Esther said. The word tickled my head. Something about potatoes. Runa was nodding sadly.
“Yes, it does. But it could not be,” she said. “The sword is safe. As is the vessel.”
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked. “The dude in the mask said something about tatertots, or something. Total shriek?”
“Totenschreck,” Tembo said quietly. “Terror of the dead. It was a sword that harnessed certain necromantic powers usually reserved to the servants of Valhalla. A weapon the Germans deployed during the war, if my memory of history serves.”
“A nasty weapon, too. Anyone killed by it would return to serve the bearer in death. And each time they died, the sword would bring them back,” Esther said. “Forged in Valhalla, and powered by the tears of one of their missing goddesses. Freya, wasn’t it?”
“The Tears of Freya have restorative properties,” Runa said sadly. “And the sword bound them together. Life and death in one weapon. Not our proudest moment. It is why I turned my coat, Captain. You know this.”
“But not before you took some of my best men,” Esther said. Her voice was fragile. In the failing light, I thought I could see tears glisten in the boss’s eyes. “And made me kill them, over and over again.”
“The past is the past,” Runa said. “That is the purpose of the Accords. To make peace between us. Let it go.”
Esther didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she rubbed her face and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was back to the steel I remembered.
“Those Accords put that sword back into your care, along with the Tears,” Esther said. “To safeguard against mortal meddling.”
“Which is how I know it could not be the same sword. The Totenschreck is safe.”
“And the Tears?”
“I don’t know. We designed it that way,” Runa said. “Two of our sisters foreswore their powers and cut themselves off from Valhalla, to keep anyone from being able to trace them. I have no way of finding them. And neither do you.”
“Wait. Why did you trust the very people who created the sword in the first place to protect it?” I asked. “If it was used by valkyries to kill mortals, shouldn’t it be in mortal hands? Or destroyed?”
“Both the Tears and the sword are elements of our domain. They could not be destroyed without threatening the stability of Valhalla,” Runa said gruffly. “We would never have allowed it.”
“As for the sword being in valkyrie hands,” Esther said, stepping in, “the valkyries can’t wield it. Part of the ritual requires it be wielded by someone born of mortal blood.”
“I have absolute control over all who enter Valhalla. No one gets in here without my knowledge,” Runa said. “Which is how I know you must be mistaken. The sword is safe.”
“We saw what we saw,” Chesa said. “And what we saw sounds an awful lot like what you’re describing. Especially the Nazi bits.”
“It could be someone searching out the mythic nature of the blade. A mortal, guided by a valkyrie, could approximate the sword without actually having the weapon,” Tembo said. “Though it wouldn’t have the same amount of power.”
“Explains the weird plastic skeletons,” Esther said. “Replicating as much of the power as possible. They could be training the next bearer.”
“Possibly. But you have nothing to worry about. The sword is safe, here in Valhalla. I control all entrances, and know all who come and go. This pretender will never get close to the blade,” Runa said. “Not until Ragnarok.”
“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Esther said. “I’d like to set a watch on the sword, Runa. A few of my elites, and maybe some agents from Mundane Actual. At least until we get to the bottom of what happened at the convention center.”
“I volunteer!” Bethany squeaked.
“Impossible. Mortals who tarry too long in Valhalla lose themselves to the mead, and the melee. They are driven mad by the glory.”
“I absolutely volunteer!” Bethany said.
“I think the elites can handle it. After all, they’re already in touch with their mythic identities,” Esther said. That was a fancy way of saying that we’d already lost ourselves to the Unreal, or maybe found ourselves in it. We were already the heroes we imagined ourselves to be. “Worst that could happen is that they pick up a taste for bloodshed.”
“I’m sorry, Esther, but it’s not going to happen. The Accords are very clear on this. You handle the mundane world, and keep it safe,” Runa said, hooking a thumb in her scabbard. “Valhalla is my responsibility.”
“If one of your girls goes rogue and kicks off Ragnarok, I’m going to have trouble holding up my end of the deal,” Esther said.
“That’s not going to happen. And even if it does, we’ll be ready.” Runa clapped her hands together. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, they are starting the shield-breaking contest, and after that we have the armor competition. Aelwulf will see to your needs. Mix with the crowd, enjoy the contests. Maybe one or two of your members could participate.”
“We wouldn’t want to embarrass you, Runa,” Esther said. “Doesn’t look good for the title of Mr. Valhalla to go to a former phys ed teacher from Dubuque.”
“And if that happens, then maybe it really is the end of the world,” Runa said. She smiled one more time, then headed down the path. Esther watched her go.
“Still think she’s hiding something?” Chesa asked.
“Nope,” Esther answered. “Now I’m sure of it.”
“So what do we do?” Tembo asked. “She won’t let us guard the sword. We don’t even know where it is.”
“Don’t worry,” Esther said. “I have a plan. John, you, Gregory, and Tembo are going to enter the Mr. Valhalla competition.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “For starters—”
“I think it’s a GREAT idea,” Bethany interrupted. “Rast is going to look ridiculous in a sash. I can’t wait!”
“To what purpose, Ms. MacRae?” Gregory asked. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to prove my worth against these barbarians, but this hardly feels like the time for games.”
“You heard Inge. The fishing competition isn’t until Friday. By entering, you’ll be granted access to Valhalla for the next three days,” Esther said. “Play a couple games, get beat, then we’ll limp away with our collective tail between our legs. But before we go, we drop the three of you off right back here. Runa’s magic would alert her to intruders, but not to legal competitors. Then you just need to sneak down here tonight while everyone else is asleep and find that sword.”
“So you’re going to strand us in Valhalla?” I asked. “This is genius. And when they find us and figure out what we’re doing, how are we supposed to escape?”
“You’re clever lads. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Esther started down the path, then paused and looked back at us. “One last thing: Try not to get killed.”
“Cool. Don’t get killed playing volleyball,” I grumbled. “Great.”