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Give a Girl a Sword


by Kerrie L. Hughes




Jessie Ramirez showed her Illinois I.D. to the ticket taker of the Chicago Art Institute. As she put the card back in her pocket, she accidentally dropped her sketchbook and pencils. Sighing deeply, she picked them up and then walked inside.

Her long, dark hair was messy from a sleepless night, and her brown eyes were bloodshot from crying. Her mood was as black as the charcoal staining her fingertips. Battered cargo pants, combat boots, and a black turtleneck sweater that had seen better days made her look every inch the starving art student she was.

Last night Jessie had come home to the apartment she shared with her boyfriend to find him screwing some random girl on their bed. After a three-hour fight, she threw him out. It had been humiliating, stupid, and not entirely out of nowhere, if she were to be honest.

Now, all she wanted to do was retreat to some quiet area in her favorite museum and sketch something until she forgot her troubles. Best therapy in the world, because it was free on Thursdays and she was one paycheck away from going back home to live with her mom. Not something she wanted to do.

Jessie walked around until she saw the armory room. She hadn’t been in this wing since it had closed for remodeling, and she’d never really been into weapons and armor, but given her mood, it was butt-kicking 101, and that was downright intoxicating right now.

After a quick search of the room, she located the bench farthest from the noisy hallway and glanced at the nearby displays. Let’s see, shiny suit of armor, or ugly bunch of iron swords and daggers? Jessie chose the armor and sat down.

After turning to a fresh page, she leaned forward to read the information card at the base of the suit. Armor for Field and Tournament, 1560, Germany. Okay, does that mean field, as in games, or field as in battlefield? She realized she knew nothing about armor and how it was used. Irony at its greatest, given how she had just gotten her heart trampled by someone all her college friends had warned her about.

Ugh, college, another thing she didn’t want to think about. She still hadn’t decided what major to take, and her two years at the community college were over as of last week. What she really wanted to do was enroll in the Chicago School of Art at the Institute, but living here was expensive, and she needed to find a new roommate. She also needed to find a way to pay for college.

Her mom wanted her to give up art and become a lawyer, that way she could take out loans and repay them once she found a job. Jessie liked the idea of being a lawyer and representing people in need, but there wasn’t anything creative about it, and she craved creativity.

Still, helping people was kind of a big deal. When her mom had needed help getting a restraining order against Jessie’s dad, it had taken far too long. she and her mom had ended up homeless until a women’s shelter found them a room. Then it took forever to get the divorce finalized, and they felt helpless until it was over. Jessie ruminated over the possibilities as she sketched the suit of armor.

“Hello. Can you hear me?”

Jessie looked up from her sketch and glanced around, but only saw a few people passing through the room. Probably just someone on a cell phone. She went back to sketching.

“Excuse me young lady, I’m talking to you.”

The voice was a bit louder now, possibly female, but definitely coming from behind her. Jessie turned and looked; there was no one there, just a display of Viking short swords and daggers.

“Yes, I’m talking to you. Can you hear me?”

Startled, Jessie stood up and turned around, clutching the sketchpad to her chest. Was she losing her mind?

“Yes, you. The young lady with a sketchpad.”

The voice was even louder now, and definitely coming from the Viking display. Was someone was behind the case?

“Where are you?” Jessie asked.

“In the case. Come closer, please.”

Jessie looked at the case, then up at the security camera in the corner, and finally back around the room, just to be sure.

“If someone’s pranking me, I am not amused,” she said, perhaps a bit loudly.

The guard across the room looked at her. It seemed like he was about to come over, but he stayed where he was.

The voice continued, “I assure you that I am not pranking you. My name is Vala, and I am the third sword from the left.”

Jessie raised an eyebrow, put her sketchbook down on the bench, and edged closer to the case. There were seven swords and three daggers inside, along with a number of informational pictures. She quickly assessed which sword was third from the left and looked at the index card below it.

“‘Viking Dagger, 800, Iron.’”

“No. Sorry. My left, your right.”

“Okay . . . ‘Viking Short Sword, age unknown, Iron and bronze. Gift of the Ericksohn Family.’”

“Yes. That one.”

“That can’t be you. You look like you’re made of steel, and you have gold scrollwork and sapphires on your hilt.”

“You see my true form.”

“But you look like the other weapon to everyone else?”

“Yes.”

Jessie glanced back at the guard, who was chatting with someone. She turned her attention back to the sword. “Are you seriously trying to tell me that a sword is talking to me?”

“Yes. You are potentially one of the Volka.”

“Uh . . . what?”

“I believe that you are of the bloodline of Freya’s Daughters.”

“The Norse Goddess?”

“Yes. Has your mother not told you of your heritage?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if this is a prank—”

Just then Jessie heard the authoritative steps of the guard approaching and she turned to see him five feet away from her.

“Can I help you with something?” he said with a smile.

“Uh . . . yeah. Is this an interactive display or something?”

“No. It’s just a regular armory display.”

“He can’t hear me, only you can hear me,” the voice said.

“Did you hear that?” Jessie asked.

The guard’s smile disappeared. “Hear what?”

Jessie sighed. “Never mind, I guess I’m just . . . talking to myself over here.”

The guard looked at her like she was addled in the head, but then smiled again. “Just let me know if you need anything.” he said and walked away.

“Or maybe the voices in my head,” She muttered once she saw him resume his post at the exhibit entrance.

“You don’t have to talk very loudly for me to hear you. Even if you whisper, I’ll hear you just fine, and once you claim me, you will be able to talk to me in your head.”

“Claim you?”

“Yes. As I said, you are descended from the Priestesses of Freya, one of Her Daughters. Although I must admit I have never met a descendant with dark hair and eyes. Your skin reminds me of the Spaniards some of my previous hosts met.”

“Excuse me?” Jessie asked, not sure if she should be offended.

“I apologize for not asking earlier, but what is your full name?”

“Jessica Inez Ramirez, but everyone calls me Jessie.”

“Are you a Spaniard, Jessie?”

“I’m an American.”

“Yes, of course you are—we are in America, after all—but where do your family’s ancestors hail from?”

“My father’s family is mainly from Spain and France; my mother’s family is from the Netherlands. Why do you ask?”

“Well, as I have said, only the Daughters of the Goddess Freya have the ability to hear and speak with me. You do not look like any of my previous hosts, so I am wondering where your connection to the Ericksohn family lies?”

“My grandmother’s last name was Erikkson, but she spells it differently from the name on your card. My mother’s last name is Engstrom.”

“Ah, then the mystery is solved. You are most likely one of the daughters.”

Jessie narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look, this is rather surreal, and I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t some elaborate prank. What are you exactly?”

“I am Vala, sword of the Daughters of Freya.”

“All that tells me is your name and your religion, I’m going to need more than that.”

“I am the sword that the Goddess Freya had her blacksmith forge. Her Priestesses spoke Enchantments as she Herself engraved me with Runic Talismans. Then when she was satisfied with the result, she gave me to the first Daughter of Freya, Thorfinna. Thorfinna passed me to her daughter Sigrid, then Sigrid passed me to—”

“Stop. This is ridiculous.”

“What is ridiculous?”

“That you’re a talking sword, and I’m still standing here listening to you.”

“I see. Then your mother or grandmother has not told you about me?”

“No, my mother’s an office manager, and my grandmother died when I was ten.”

It was quiet for a minute, and Jessie thought, just perhaps, she had imagined that the sword had been speaking to her. Then the sword sighed, and it sounded like the edge of a blade sliding against a sharpening stone.

“Such is my lot after twelve centuries of life. I was once the hand of my Lady Freya’s Will, and now I sit in a museum waiting for one of the Daughters to take me up again and make the world safe for women and children so they . . .” the sword trailed off, but sounded sincere, and the longing in its voice made Jessie’s heart ache a little.

“Is it . . . terribly lonely?”

“Yes, a bit. I do have Jürg and Tessa for company though.”

“Who are they?”

“Jürg is the suit of armor behind you, and Tessa is a tiara in the next room. I mostly speak to them at night when the crowds are gone.”

Jessie looked back at the suit of armor. “He talks, too?”

“His maker, Jürg the Younger, haunts him, so it’s not really the armor that’s talking, but the spirit that lives inside it. Tessa is enchanted like me, but it’s unlikely she will ever find someone to claim her again, as most of her family was murdered by Bolsheviks in 1918.”

Jessie must have looked skeptical, because Vala continued without waiting for a reply. “They would introduce themselves, but you wouldn’t be able to hear them. Not unless you can hear ghosts, or perhaps are related to the Nickolev family. Are you?”

“Not that I know of. Listen, did you say you defend women and children?”

“Yes. If you take me up and accept the powers I bestow—”

“Powers? What powers?”

“Please stop interrupting me, and do whisper so the guard won’t come back over.”

“Sorry. I’m getting kinda anxious and freaked out. This is just so weird,” Jessie said quietly.

“I understand. It isn’t every day that you are told you are Chosen and have a great responsibility to bear.”

“No, I suppose not. Right, so . . . what are your powers?”

“I have three powers within me. I can deem the Truth, enact Justice, and bestow Grace.”

“And how do you do that?”

“Which one?”

“All three.”

The sword paused for a minute before finally answering. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s what cheating boyfriends say on Facebook when they want to hook up with random ho-bags.”

“A ho-bag? What is that? Some type of monster?”

“Not exactly, although we do all live in fear of becoming one.”

I don’t understand, please explain.”

“Never mind . . . it’s complicated. Look, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to claim me and become a true Daughter of Freya.”

“But what does that mean? What would I be doing?”

“Simply put, when a woman or female child is in need, I seek her out and defend her against tyranny and abuse.”

“Well, that’s sounds pretty cool. What do you do to protect them?”

“It depends on the situation, but usually you geld the rapists and take the heads of the murderers.”

Jessie’s mouth went dry. She knew gelding was essentially castration. And beheading, that was just barbaric. “ . . . What?”

“Geld or behead the guilty, after the Truth has been determined, of course. You would be the hand of Freya and dispense her Justice as you see fit. Unless, of course, you choose to extend your Grace.”

“What happens then?”

“You could set someone free if they pay restitution to the woman or child’s satisfaction.”

“I see.”

“You sound unsure. Are there no geldings in this day and age? Surely you behead murderers?”

“Not in America. Besides, I’ve never even held a sword, and I’d likely get arrested and locked up for life. I could be put to death myself.”

“When you hold me, you have all the skills a sword bearer would need. And you would have the protection of a fine suit of armor. Much nicer and lighter than Jürg there.”

“Where is this armor?”

“It’s contained within me. You call on me, and I instantly sheath you in a layer of mystic armor to protect you from harm.”

“That’s incredible. Are you heavy to carry? Wait, how can I carry a sword in broad daylight?”

“I’m very light for a sword, and my enchantments make me feel nearly weightless until you need me. The power of Grace can also be used to veil me at your side if you need me to remain hidden.”

“That all sounds very cool, but I can’t really go around killing men who wrong women. I mean, there’d be dead bodies everywhere. And gelding rapists? Eew, I’d be busy all day and night.”

“Are there that many murderers and rapists?

“Yes.”

“Well, that could be a problem.”

“What about guys who cheat? My ex is a cheater, and he took the TV and computer when I kicked him out last night. They were in his name, but I paid for half.”

“I’m not sure what a ‘TV’ is, but I have seen people bring in things they refer to as computers. I’m not exactly familiar with everything that happens now. I get most of my information from my hosts through the years and from the conversations I overhear when visitors to this museum are near me.”

“Well, that explains why you sound like a cross between a Midwestern accent and a French one.”

“It probably is the case. Tell me Jessie, is a cheater the same as a cardsharp?”

“No, it’s more like . . . an adulterer . . . except we aren’t married . . . or engaged. It’s someone who has sex with someone other than the person they are in love with, and then lies about it.”

“You were living with a man and he had sex with someone else? Then you told him to leave, and he did, but took stuff you shared away with him?”

“Yes. As embarrassing as it is.”

“Did he beat you, or perhaps violate you sexually?”

“Uh, no. Pretty sure I would have kicked his ass if he did.”

“Well good for you, but I’m sorry, there isn’t really anything I can do about that. Though it does seem to me that you are better off without him.”

Jessie thought for a minute. A lawyer could certainly use a way to tell who was lying. “You said you could divine the truth? How do you do that? Could I find out who’s telling the truth just by carrying you?”

“Yes. I can even do so while veiled.”

“And what keeps me from using you to rob a bank or kill someone innocent?”

“Truth prevents that from happening.”

“How?”

“I’ve never had a true Daughter of Freya attempt to use me for anything other than good, so I do not know.”

“I see. And do I have to find murderers and rapists? Couldn’t I just use you to divine the truth and leave the rest to the authorities?”

“Why ever would you want to do that?”

“It’s the way things are done now. It’s illegal to physically hurt or kill someone, even if they deserve it. We have a court system for justice and prisons for punishment.”

“I am familiar with courts. Several of my previous hosts were magistrates and barristers.”

“I’m thinking of going to school to be a lawyer myself.”

“A noble cause for a Daughter of Freya. Think of all the good you could do with me to help you.”

Jessie thought about the possibilities, knowing the truth could be very powerful, although proving it would be problematic at times. It wasn’t as though she could tell anyone she had a magic sword, everyone would think she was crazy. And what about the gelding and executions? “Vala, how do I know you aren’t lying to me now?”

“I am a Sword of Truth. I cannot lie to you.”

“But how do I know that?”

“Once you take me as your own, you will know I am forthright.”

“But then it would be too late for me if you are lying. How do I know you aren’t some . . . I don’t know, malevolent demon trying to trick me?”

“Do I seem like I am?”

“My ex didn’t seem like a jerk when I met him, and he promised to love me forever.”

“You seem stronger for the experience, in my humble opinion.”

“I probably am, but I don’t see how running around with a sword that may or may not compel me to execute murderers will be good for me.”

“And geld rapists, dear.”

“Yeah, that’s even less attractive.”

“I don’t see why it would be an issue. I have never punished anyone who was innocent. Would you have them running around with impunity?”

“Most of them do now.”

“That’s because I have been behind glass for nearly one hundred years.”

“That might be for the best. You do know that the population of the United States of America alone is well over 300 million, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t seem possible.”

“Well, it’s true. I mean, how many people can one sword judge?”

“I don’t really know. I’ve had over 200 hosts in my lifetime, and altogether we delivered thousands of judgments.”

“Wow, that’s . . . ” Jessie wasn’t sure what word to use—crazy, perhaps? “ . . . impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“Vala, I don’t want to upset you, but I have plans for my life. I want to finish school, have a career, make friends, travel, possibly have kids. I may even want to get married someday . . . and it doesn’t sound like I can do that if I choose you.”

“But . . . it’s your destiny.”

“If my destiny is to run around killing and mutilating people, then I don’t want it.”

Vala sighed. “But it’s lonely in here.”

“You have Jürg and Tessa to talk to. And you said you can hear what’s going on around you.”

“It’s not the same, I barely learn anything new . . . and it sounds like so much has changed. Please take me with you?”

“No Vala. I can’t do that.”

Vala started to cry, and it nearly broke Jessie’s heart. “I will come visit you, though.”

“You will?”

“Not every week, and not for more than thirty minutes or so at a time. I don’t want to get kicked out of the museum for talking to exhibits.”

“The guard does seem to be looking at us quite a bit.”

Jessie looked over her shoulder. He was staring at her, and she suppressed the urge to flip him off.

“I’m going to go before I cause trouble. I’ll see you next week.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes. And thank you Vala, you’ve actually helped me more than you realize.”

“Thank you, Jessie. I’m quite flattered.”

And with that, Jessie gathered up her things. She still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that Vala was telling the truth, but she was fairly certain the sword couldn’t make her do anything as long as she didn’t claim her first.

It also made her think that perhaps she would go to law school. She wouldn’t be able to help everyone who needed her, but she could make a difference in some people’s lives.

On the other hand, art might be what she needed to maintain a firm grip on sanity. Talking swords? A haunted suit of armor? And a tiara that was probably from the poor doomed head of Anastasia? Maybe she was already crazy? Maybe she should become a museum curator just to make sure objects like those didn’t wind up in the wrong hands.


Once Jessie was gone, Jürg spoke up. “That’s the fourth one to turn you down, old girl.”

“Yes, so sorry, my dear, but at least you are protected and well cared for here,” Tessa added.

“Indeed, it is better than when I was lost in the peat bogs for countless years,” Vala said. “Still, this one holds promise . . . and she may, in time, change her mind.”

“Quite,” Jürg agreed.

“Perhaps you should leave out the part about gelding men,” Tessa said. “It seems to make them quite uncomfortable.”

“Mmm, indeed,” Jürg concurred.

“Oh do shut up, both of you,” Vala said, putting an end to the discussion.





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