THE VALLEY ENDED at the mouth of a narrow passage between two high cliffs. Bloodsong had dismounted to scout ahead, alone and invisible, fearing an ambush. The eastern sky was gray with the coming dawn when the others heard her return and say, “No ambushes, but a patrol of soldiers are camped just beyond the end of the valley. We can’t go around them without being seen, so we must take them by surprise and slay them. There are only three sentries, each atop a low hill outside the camp. I will approach wearing the Tarnkappe, slay them quietly, become visible so that it will appear that they are still standing there. Then one of you will take my place, so that I may go on to the next one, till all three have been slain and replaced.”
“But my eyes,” Huld said. “I’ll be no good to you blind.”
“You heal others,” Thorfinn said, “but not yourself?”
“I’ve wondered that, too,” Valgerth added.
“It does not work that way, or I would already have done so. I’m useless to you now.”
“You can stand holding a spear as if on watch,” Bloodsong answered. “You do not need sight for that.”
“Aye. No slacking off for you. Impersonate the first guard,” Thorfinn said. “I will guide you there before moving on to take the next one’s place.”
Bloodsong nodded. “When you three stand atop the hills in place of the sentries, I will go into the camp wearing the Tarnkappe and send the rest of Nidhug’s men to Hel.”
“Let’s do it,” Huld said. “Someone lead me.”
“Lead?” Thorfinn asked. “Take my arm and walk beside me.”
Bloodsong turned and hurried toward the entrance to the valley. The others followed. If it grew too light, the plan would not work.
Soon, she reached the first guard.
He tried to cry out when pain bit into his throat. He heard only a bubbling sound, understood that it was his blood pouring from a gaping wound in his neck, and saw a black-clad woman suddenly appear beside him as if out of thin air.
Seeing the guard fall and Bloodsong appear, Thorfinn rushed Huld forward, careful to keep out of sight behind the hill.
“Hurry!” Bloodsong whispered. “It’s growing light.”
Leaving Huld holding the soldier’s spear, Thorfinn moved down slope out of sight and circled to the next hill.
Bloodsong, again wearing the Tarnkappe, took a direct route to the next guard.
But not everyone in the camp still slept. One soldier, awakening from a disturbing dream, had risen to empty his bladder beyond the circle of firelight. He thought he had seen the first guard fall to the ground and, an instant later, reappear as if from thin air. Rubbing his sleep-blurred eyes, he turned to go back to his place by the fire, wondering at the trick his eyes had played upon him. But then he stopped, turned back, and began walking toward the guard atop the hill.
Huld heard footsteps approaching. She stood like a statue, tightly gripping the spear.
“I thought of the answer to that riddle, Rolf,” a male voice said, coming nearer. “You owe me that silver piece we wagered.”
Huld’s heart hammered in her chest. Sweat broke out upon her face. Her thoughts raced, saw no hope. I mustn’t make a sound, mustn’t give the others away!
“Did you hear what I said, Rolf? You owe me.” Then he saw a dark form sprawled on the ground behind the crest of the hill.
Huld heard the whisper of a sword leaving its scabbard. Her knees felt weak. She grasped the spear even tighter, her teeth clenched. May Freya receive me in Folkvang, she thought, certain she was about to die, tears brimming in her blind eyes.
A strange bubbling sound came from nearby, followed by the sound of a man falling to the ground.
“It’s all right, Huld,” Bloodsong whispered, gripping the Witch’s shoulder. “I saw him leaving the camp, came up on him from behind.”
The Hel-warrior felt Huld’s shoulder tremble, saw the tears on the Witch’s cheeks. “You are very brave,” Bloodsong said, then hurried away toward the next sentry.
“I thought something had happened to you,” Thorfinn whispered as he came to take the second guard’s place. “Where were you so long?”
“A soldier approached Huld. I saw and stopped him.” Bloodsong glanced at’ the brightening sky as she hurried toward the last sentry, and soon Valgerth stood atop the third hill.
“I loathe to slay men while they sleep,” Bloodsong whispered to Valgerth. “But there are battles yet to fight, more important ones. We must not risk ourselves needlessly.”
Bloodsong moved down the slope toward the sleeping camp, bloodstained dagger held ready.
She reached the camp, bent down, slashed with the dagger, and moved on to the next man, then the next. Five now remained. She bent toward her next victim. Someone cursed behind her and began shouting, awakening the others.
She whirled, threw her dagger, drew her sword.
The man who had awakened and found the slain soldiers grunted in surprise as a dagger suddenly embedded itself in his throat. He fell forward.
Bloodsong thrust into a soldier with her sword, pulled free the blade, and killed another man who was sleepily trying to rise. Only two were left. Both had gotten to their feet, drawn swords, and were looking confusedly at the horror around them, searching for the attacker.
The Hel-warrior’s blade slashed sideways, killing one and slaying the other man on the return stroke. The look of confusion on the faces of the last two corpses sickened her.
She wiped her blade on a soldier’s cloak and was sheathing the sword when Valgerth and Thorfinn raced into camp.
“Freyadis!” Valgerth cried.
“Here,” Bloodsong called. “I am uninjured, Valgerth. Look at their faces. Men should not die the way these died, having no chance to face their attacker.” She retrieved her dagger and cleaned the blade.
“Given the chance to slay you from behind, few of Nidhug’s men would choose to fight you face-to-face,” Thorfinn said. “Nidhug’s soldiers do not deserve honorable deaths.”
Bloodsong was silent a moment, then said, “We must go to Huld. She will not know what happened.”
Bloodsong set out for the Witch’s hill, Thorfinn and Valgerth following.
Soon they were mounted on their horses and riding for Nastrond once again, Thorfinn and Valgerth in the lead. Bloodsong held the reins to Huld’s horse while the Witch clung blindly to her saddle.
“Bloodsong,” Huld said, “when other soldiers appear, drop my horse’s reins at once or someone may guess that—”
“If other soldiers appear,” Bloodsong cut in, “I will give your reins to Thorfinn or Valgerth, who will lead your horse as you escape. The plan is just as before, Huld.”
“Except that now I cannot see. I will only endanger the rest of you. Better to leave me. I won’t tell them anything, I promise, not even if they torture me. Or perhaps you should slay me to make certain. Nidhug might use magic to probe my thoughts.”
“Enough!” Bloodsong ordered. “You are our friend, Huld. My friend. I will not slay or abandon you. Don’t talk nonsense. I feel horrible about your eyes. But maybe they can be cured. Norda Greycloak may know a way, a spell, once you have found and freed her.”
“I’m blind. I can’t find or free Norda, or anybody.”
“We wouldn’t have gotten this far without your aid, Huld. If Norda is found and freed, it will be your doing as much as ours, no matter the state of your vision.”
Huld was silent a moment, thinking. It suddenly occurred to her that Bloodsong had called her a friend and had vowed not to abandon her. She thought a bit longer, considering the thoughts she had been having, the way she had been feeling.
“I’ve been feeling sorry for myself,” Huld finally said.
“Perhaps,” Bloodsong said, her tone softening.
“I won’t let it happen again. I promise. I’m still breathing. I must be happy for that.”
“Aye,” Bloodsong answered, “that is reason enough.”
Neither spoke for a long time, each lost in her own thoughts, Bloodsong watching ahead for other soldiers.
Much later, Bloodsong heard Huld laugh. She glanced sideways at the Witch, saw that Huld was smiling, a look of surprise on her face, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Huld?” Bloodsong asked.
“I think I am seeing again!” Huld cried. “There’s light, and the sun is there?” she asked, pointing.
“Aye! That it is!” Bloodsong exclaimed.
Huld laughed again.
Thorfinn and Valgerth heard her and looked around.
“I had hoped your blindness to be only temporary, Huld,” Bloodsong said, “like the blindness someone gets after being too long in the snow. But I didn’t want to give you false hope.”
Huld just kept laughing.
* * *
“Your eyes?” Bloodsong asked some time later.
“Steadily better,” Huld answered, squinting. “Still somewhat blurred. I hope they clear for our first view of Nastrond. I’ve never seen it.”
“Then they’d better clear soon,” Bloodsong noted. “We will soon be atop a hill from which it can be seen. Then less than an afternoon’s journey would put us at the gate, if Nidhug allowed us to ride unhindered across the plain,” she added, “which is rather unlikely, wouldn’t you say?”
Huld shrugged. “Who knows what a sorcerer thinks? Certainly not an innocent Witch like me.”
Bloodsong laughed, feeling excitement building within her. When they crested the hill from which Nastrond could be seen, Bloodsong called a halt. “Can you see it, Huld?”
“There’s something dark, a dark shape far in the distance, like a small mountain or something. Is that it?”
“Yes,” Bloodsong replied. “I’d never thought of it as a small mountain before, but you’re right, with all its towers and steeply slanting roofs, all angling upward toward the central tower where Nidhug has his private chambers.”
“And is that water sparkling in front of it?” Huld asked. “A lake?”
Thorfinn laughed.
“That sparkling is a sea of sorts,” Valgerth told her. “A sea of men.”
“Soldiers, Huld,” Bloodsong explained. “The sun is glinting off their armor and weapons.”
“Oh,” was all the Witch said.
“Nidhug must think you a formidable enemy indeed,” Thorfinn noted, “to have assembled what must be nearly his entire army.”
“He must know you two are with me,” Bloodsong replied.
Thorfinn laughed again.
“We will find a place to hide until dark,” Bloodsong said, “in case other patrols are in the area. Maybe by then your vision will have cleared, Huld. It would aid us greatly if your yellow-fire eyes could guide us again.”
“I’ve been wondering if I could teach you.”
“To see in the dark using Freya’s magic?” Bloodsong shook her head. “Have you forgotten I can only do what Hel and this ring allow?”
“No. But I had to learn it. So could you.”
“How long did it take you?”
“A week. Or two. Okay. Stupid idea. Forget it.”
Bloodsong squeezed Huld’s shoulder. “It was a good suggestion, if there was time.”
“Hel should have included it in your abilities, curse Her!”
Bloodsong shrugged then looked toward Nastrond. The final struggle was about to begin. Guthrun, she thought, I’ve nearly reached my goal, our goal. I won’t fail you, daughter. We will have vengeance and freedom.
Something bright suddenly caught her eye overhead. She grabbed for the hilt of her sword, expecting another sorcerous attack, and started to draw her blade but stopped when she saw what hovered in the sky, long blond hair blazing in the wind, silver armor flashing in the sunlight, blue eyes burning into hers, spear pointed earthward toward her. Then, suddenly, there was only blue sky overhead once more.
She glanced at the others. No one had seen the Valkyrie but her, and because she was invisible in the Tarnkappe, no one had seen her reach for her sword.
There was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She knew that according to the old tales, seeing a Valkyrie could mean only one thing. The one who saw the Valkyrie was to die in battle before another day had passed.
Her mind, so long accustomed to accepting the possibility of death in battle, suddenly rebelled. Her desire to live, to raise Guthrun to womanhood flooded her. The hopes and dreams nurtured through the six years in Hel’s realm cried out against their destruction, against the negation of death. Fear entered her heart. If she turned back, she might live, but Guthrun would never be released. If she went onward, she was to die, though Guthrun might be released if she accomplished her mission before being slain. Either way, she would never see her daughter again. Hel laughs last, she remembered once more. Then her fear retreated. The decision was a simple one, after all. Guthrun will know freedom, no matter the price, she vowed, looking skyward to where she had seen the Valkyrie, even if that price is my life. Nothing has changed. I knew I might not survive this mission. Of course I died once, Hel praying, then lived again, but would Hel restore me a second time? She needed me to fight for the Skull, but If I die returning the Skull to Her and She frees Guthrun, She will have what She wants and not need a warrior again.
The Hel-warrior looked back toward Nastrond. For all I know that Valkyrie was only a vision sent by Nidhug to weaken my resolve. To Hel with it all! To Hel with cursed Valkyries, too! I’m going to live!
* * *
Nidhug looked out his tower window at the sea of flickering torches and camp fires of his soldiers on the plain around Nastrond. Overhead, the sky was black. To better conceal his trap, he had conjured thick clouds to cover the moon and stars.
He had struggled to regain control of his emotions after the shocking revelation from the slave, but horror remained beneath the surface of his mind and heart, threatening to escape with each breath.
How could it be her? He wondered yet again, fighting tears and terror. After all this time? Lost to me? Why now? But he feared he knew the answer. Someone had to have told the slave those words from his past.
Hel! The Goddess he most feared must somehow be responsible.
Hel must have penetrated his weakening defenses.
Hel must have also helped the slave survive the torture and lie to him.
Because Hel knew who the slave once had been!
Hel knew all souls who had ever been in Her care.
Yes, Hel had somehow manipulated Fate and placed the slave in Nastrond years ago. How many other souls from his past now also lived as slaves, soldiers, or nobles in Nastrond with their own secret traps for him as yet unsprung?
Now, at a crucial moment, he was distracted as never before, and keeping his emotions in check was requiring extra energy, depleting his youth spell at a faster pace.
In spite of his efforts to suppress them, threatening memories from centuries agone forced themselves upon him, memories from before Hel, before the War Skull, thrusting him momentarily back to a simple woodsman’s cottage in a forest and into the arms of a woman he had lived with there. A woman he had truly loved. A woman soldiers had taken from him and killed, setting him on a path of hatred and revenge.
Cold tears trickled down his skullish face. “I love you,” he said, repeating the phrase she had said but in his current tongue. But then the beloved face from his past became a mask of terror and pain, blistering, burning, the face of the slave he had mercilessly tortured, and at whose suffering he had laughed!
What a monster I have become! he thought. What a—
“No!” he shouted aloud. “You won’t win, Hel! You won’t laugh last over my corpse! I don’t care who she used to be! Do you hear me? I will still torture her for my pleasure! Turn her into a living corpse! Make her suffer as no one has ever suffered! I will destroy her just to spit in Your eye! I don’t care if she was my beloved Nella! Do you hear? I don’t care!”
He slumped down on his bed. He fought waves of weakness that poured through him. He struggled to gain back his tenuous control.
Later, calmed, taking slow and disciplined steps, breathing at an artificially measured pace, he returned to the window and looked out once more.
Near dawn that morning, he had sensed the deaths of the soldiers camped near the valley’s end. Then, throughout the day, he had monitored the approach of Bloodsong’s companions as they came ever nearer to Nastrond. And now he had sensed them coming still closer through the darkness. Though he could not yet sense Bloodsong, he hardly cared. Her fate was sealed. Before the night was through, she would either be dead or his helpless prisoner.
Nidhug looked out a moment longer, then slowly left the room, pulling on his hood, anxious to put an end to what Bloodsong had started with her rebellion years before. Yes. He would that night finally and completely crush her defiance.
It was time to spring the final trap.
* * *
“There are guards everywhere around the perimeter of the camp,” Huld whispered in the darkness. “If we get much closer, someone is certain to see my bright night eyes.”
“Then it’s time,” Bloodsong said, invisible beneath the Tarnkappe. She dismounted. “May your Gods and Goddesses be with you.”
“And with you, Bloodsong,” Thorfinn said.
“I wish I could see you, before we part,” Valgerth said, “in case—”
“You can see me when it’s over,” Bloodsong cut in, “and my daughter as well.”
“May I touch your hand, at least?” Valgerth asked, reaching down in the direction of Bloodsong’s voice. There was silence for a moment, then she felt her hand gripped by strong fingers. She squeezed back, let go, straightened in her saddle.
“May Freya’s Teeth tear the throats of your enemies,” Huld said earnestly. “Please be careful.” She also reached down, felt her hand squeezed then released.
They heard Bloodsong walk away into the darkness. Then Huld led Bloodsong’s horse away from the encampment, Valgerth and Thorfinn riding behind.
* * *
Shield gripped in her left hand, sword in her right, Bloodsong walked forward until she saw a sentry outlined against torchlight from the camp. She angled away from him, walking slowly and quietly.
The torches that marked the boundary of the encampment were half a bow-shot from the guard. Bloodsong reached them and edged into the camp itself, careful to make as little sound as possible.
Men stood here and there around camp fires, talking, gambling, cursing, laughing. She kept going, unseen by any, unsensed, she hoped, by Nidhug.
But something was wrong. There were simply not enough men, not for the size of the camp. And even the men who were laughing and gambling were dressed in mail and leather armor, weapons at their sides. Many held bows, quivers of arrows strapped to their backs. And the more she listened, the more their curses and laughter seemed forced, as if they were but pretending.
She thought she understood and was not surprised. They had discussed the possibility of a trap before parting. Bloodsong stopped and looked back. Her friends were no doubt headed into a trap. Perhaps Nidhug had sent half his army circling around after dark to form a ring through which nothing could escape. That would also explain the way the thick cloud cover had appeared, cloaking the moon, concealing the trap—Nidhug’s sorcery.
I could not reach them in time to help them, she told herself. And Huld’s night vision will give them some warning.
Bloodsong reluctantly turned toward Nastrond again and resumed walking, forcing herself to concentrate on what was before her instead of what might lie behind.
She reached the other side of the camp and kept going. She came to the stone bridge that spanned the mist-filled chasm and saw that the drawbridge was down and the gate open.
As if I were being invited inside, the Hel-warrior thought as she slowly advanced across the bridge. Has he sensed my presence? Am I walking into a trap, too? Does the Tarnkappe not shield me from his senses after all? But then, with his army arrayed before the gate, or even part of his army, why should he even need to raise the drawbridge and close the gate?
Tightening her grip on her sword, Bloodsong crossed the drawbridge and entered the fortress.
* * *
“Stop!” Huld whispered urgently, reining to a halt.
“What is it?” Thorfinn asked, also whispering.
“Soldiers,” she answered.
“In which direction?” Valgerth asked.
“Take your pick.” Huld tried to keep the fear from her voice. “They’re in every direction, moving back toward the camp.”
“Closing a trap,” Thorfinn growled. “They must have gone around after the clouds covered the moon.”
“It seems there will be killing for us to do this night,” Valgerth noted.
“Aye,” Thorfinn agreed.
Huld watched the soldiers coming closer, searching for some gap in the circle of men but finding none.
Beside her, Valgerth and Thorfinn made ready their weapons.