Valkyrie's Wings. Chapter One. "I'm a new soul."
You never know when life decides that, 'hey, you, why don't you just go and become something else'. We all know that miracles never happen. We all know that fairytales don't just poof and become reality. We know that the days of knights and crusades had passed long ago and that magic never was. And yet... we all dream. Dream, hope, believe that at least once, maybe for a second or two, we can experience the thrill of it all.
Some people find an alternative. Look at the fans of fantasy: board games based on role-play, real-life meetings and campaigns involving wooden swords and armour, video games, movies... The list goes on and on...
"You summoned me, my lord?"
"Indeed I have. Although Ragnarok had been postponed and the Worlds are at peace, there is a new threat."
"Tell me what I must do and will go at once, my liege."
And the world changes. Never underestimate the power of The Sea of the Mass-Unconsciousness. People's souls yearn for change and it comes. Barriers between worlds are weakened by the unending pleas. Magic is an ever expanding substance and even through minimal breaches in the fabric of space it flows into worlds where it's density is lowest.
"Now, now. Enough of the titles. I am but a mere ruler. You, Valkyries, are the true holders of the world's fates."
"I understand..."
"I am only here to guide you in your first steps, just like a father would do."
And nobody notices. Simply because they look, but can't see. Absorbed in their daily trials and tribulations, a dreamer is nothing but a dreamer after all. One who calls forth the blessing of the World Tree, but does not truly believe in his dreams, much more, actually live his dream... And so, the blessing accumulates, becomes stagnant and rots. Its nature rebels and becomes a new entity.
"You are the Valkyrie of this World, its guardian. The Sovereign Rite chose you to be awakened at this time of change."
Of course, everything in our world needs a shape, a vessel. And the blessing finds a host. Only it can no longer be called a blessing. 'That which does not grow, falls into decay'. It feeds on fear, hatred, despair and becomes tainted. Ironically, this would eventually cause the magic to flow, shift and mix, creating a cycle. But, alas, it will be too late.
"Purify the source?"
"Yes, but even with your power it is impossible to do alone. Go. Gather the souls of the deceased. Strong souls. Souls, to which you won't hesitate to entrust your existence – your Einherjar. The undead have yet to fully develop on this plain of reality. Purify them. Train your Einherjar to do so. The very source of the decay is not far from awakening. You must become stronger before it does."
And so, a new chapter of history begins. The gods of old have never intervened with the flow of Fate's endless river. This will change. The gods aren't allowed to meddle with this world's destiny.
Destiny herself will rise...
"Go, Valkyrie. Go, Sonata. The last hope of Earth's souls..."
When man grew wings of iron and took off to the skies... No... When man laid eye on the world below from the height of an eagle's flight, he thought nothing could surpass this magnificent view. And when he was able to witness the sunrise from above the clouds – he realized how heaven must have looked like. Right here, above the stainless wool of the sky's sheep, the story truly begins.
The materialization of a goddess is nothing spectacular. When the fabric of space ripples and she emerges, the sky doesn't light up nor does thunder announce her arrival. She is just... there. And her presence is nothing close to divine. In the way humans imagine it anyway. This type of goddess is special. To hear the call of a soul, one must be the same. One must understand. One must experience his own final breath...
Ethereal wings of pure light, dyed crimson and gold by the setting sun. A suit of light armour, white with ornaments of red. A helmet adorned with feathers and underneath it - a mane of wavy auburn brown hair, just past shoulder-length. This was the newborn Valkyrie – Sonata. In her present state, nobody would dare to doubt her divine origin. However, the ability to wander among the living is essential to a Valkyrie's duty. If Sonata had decided to shed her battle attire at this very moment... Her mortal body didn't have the chance to age past seventeen... This wasn't a fragile mortal existence anymore. Her past had nothing to do with the duty bestowed upon her by the hands of Destiny. It was time to put her talent to use.
Every soul has a melody. For a Valkyrie - the world is like an orchestra. Each instrument plays its part. Although, this gathering of instruments isn't particularly organized. A chaotic, melodic, sometimes off-tune and unorganized unison of sounds. Despite being a complete oxymoron, this description was the most accurate. The soul shines brightest the closer to death. And that particular 'solo', that desperate requiem was her cue. A melody playing louder than most. One that told her about the will to live, the passion of dreams... There it was! To the west! Yes... this city... Again..! Near the very edge, where houses mixed with the surrounding wilderness... Something else is nearby... Was. Undead? No – finally at rest...
And so the Valkyrie listened. Listened to the melody being played by a lonely piano...
...I was a dreamer my whole life. My first memory? It's as if it happened just yesterday. My grandfather used to tell me and my brother stories. Not your typical childish tales though. They were all true, or at least most of them. Stories of my ancestors. Valiant knights and mercenaries alike, who dedicated their lives to hone the art of swordsmanship...
...The invention of gunpowder turned battles into pathetic imitations...
...I was laughed at... They thought my hobby was funny... Leave writing to real writers, they said. Heh, in the end, they were the first ones in line to get an autograph on the cover of their newly-bought book...
...I like swords. I can't resist buying a rare unit when I see it on sale. When I turned thirty a few months ago, the dagger I received from my publisher upped my collection to a number equal to four times my age...
..."What do you mean 'next week'?!"
"You signed a contract. If you don't turn in a manuscript by the end of this month..."
"I know, I know. I'm working on it, alright?"...
...Swing. Step. Turn. Step. Slash. The weight of the weapon in my hands is so familiar. The pride of my collection, given to me by Grandfather himself. A Mähne. German for 'mane'. A sword used back in the days when cavalry was the main force on the battlefield. Cavalry are weak on the side of their unarmed hand because they cannot freely swing their sword with their mount's head obstructing them. Thus, the double-bladed sword was born. Like two great swords joined together at the hilt. The knight didn't even have to swing it. They would simply drop the weight on the enemy and the weight would kill them. A devastating weapon.
"Wow, uncle Albert, you're strong!"
"Yeah! When I grow up, I want to be like you!"
My two nephews. It's impossible to tell them apart. Sometimes they're just plain creepy, acting on a whim, but both doing or saying the same thing. They grew up reading my books, despite my efforts to keep them from doing so. Although, I should be glad that they actually read something aside the books listed in the school program...
...When I heard the kids screaming outside, I was paralyzed by the pure terror that the screams contained. Without thinking I rushed outside, grabbing the Mähne from its shelf on instinct. What awaited me outside was something even my weird imagination could not... well... imagine...
...This wasn't right. I heard that there were wolves in these woods, but never actually seen one. This, this... creature was a wolf at one point, I'm sure of it. 'Was' being the keyword here. It shouldn't have been possible, but this corpse was walking... Despite the bones shining from beneath its skin, despite chunks of flesh just fucking falling off in mid-step. And the abomination wasn't alone. At least six undead canines in my back yard...
...I'm afraid. I can't go on like this for long. An actual fight is different from practice. What was I thinking when I wrote all those battles?! Swinging a sword is hard work. If I live through this, I'm going to re-think my writing habits regarding these types of scenes... These goddamn dogs are tenacious. Since they're dead – they don't feel pain. And pain is what normally causes wild animals to cease attacking and retreat. Just my luck...
...Three down. And I don't think I can last any longer. These fuckers are fast. Really agile. And blood loss is catching up with me. I don't see as clearly as should... Feeling dizzy, disoriented... No. I have to win. If not for my life, then for the two kids, my own nephews, cowering in fear somewhere behind me. If my ancestors willingly risked their lives to protect people... so am I...
...It's done... The wolves are dead... More dead than they were half an hour ago... And it looks like I'll be joining them... I should have put more effort into training... But... I'm a writer, not a warrior... I did my best and, in a way, I won... I... I want to live, damn it! I'm... At least I can enjoy my final sunset... So beautiful... And... I think I see an angel...
That was it. The melody had ended abruptly. An untimely death, but a noble one. This soul was more than perfect to become an Einherjar. The Valkyrie descended, taking her first steps upon the mortal world. It was a familiar feeling... Once, she was just like those kids, who at the moment were trying to rouse the fallen man... They did not notice her. A Valkyrie can't be seen by a normal person unless she wishes so. Sonata sensed their sorrow and was torn between two decisions... She could make them forget, but... somebody must tell the story of this brave soul to others... Yes, they are still young. The impact on their psyche was strong, but a child's memory was flexible. The Valkyrie decided to alter their memories only the slightest bit, reducing the trauma and letting the details resurface over time.
Now that the children were taken care of, Sonata could focus on her main task. The skill of retrieving a soul is an instinct that was born along with her. She turned to the still warm body. This man was tall and had the physique of a warrior. If she hadn't seen it herself, she would've never believed that this mortal was a mere writer. Yes, handling that double-bladed sword required a lot of strength. Both upper body - to swing - and lower - to sustain balance. Was an interest in swordsmanship really enough motivation to diligently pursue this lost art? Shrugging off her confusion, Sonata knelt down besides the body. It had deep wounds and bite marks all over, easily visible due to the shredded attire. Tracing a hand over the man's features and through his messy dark hair, for the first time she pronounced the words, coming from the very depth of her soul:
"Arise, Albert! Come to me, my noble Einherjar!"
The soul answered her call. Once again, its melody resumed. A small flame, no larger than candle's flickering warmth, emerged from the fallen man's chest and flew towards the discarded Mähne. A ghostly shape, made of scarlet threads, started to materialize. At first – only a hand, hovering above the weapon's grip. Slowly it took shape of a middle-aged man, an exact copy of the one lying on the ground. No, not a copy, the Valkyrie thought. This was his new self.
For a second, the man known as 'Albert' was perfectly calm. The Valkyrie watched his behavior closely. After all – this was her first time creating an Einherjar. And by the looks of it, the process was successful. Meanwhile, the man decided not to pick up his weapon and stood up. That's when he noticed his own body slowly cooling down on the grass... As expected, his first reaction was to back away... and trip on the blade behind him. After staring at 'himself' for a minute or two, he finally noticed the woman in white armour. Immediately he sprung to his feet, as if trying to overwrite the possible first impression he had created.
"You called?"
And this is when Sonata finally realized what was that oddity she sensed about his soul. It belonged to a child. This wasn't a mistake on her behalf – materialization went without a hitch. This was the Einherjar's true self. Once again, the Valkyrie had to shrug off a feeling similar to confusion.
"Yes, it was I," she replied.
"And you are a... what?" the man surprisingly talkative. "An angel, a demon, an illusion?"
"I am a Valkyrie," Sonata replied. Her first Einherjar was definitely an amusing one. "I have come here to gather souls of warriors and..."
"A-ha!" the battle-maiden was promptly interrupted by a loud exclamation. The man in front of her was now frantically searching his pockets for something. "A chooser of the slain... Collecting souls..." A pocket-sized memo pad and a pencil emerged and the Einherjar began quickly taking notes.
"What are you?!" there was no word to describe the Valkyrie's surprise. For one, this was extremely random, two – where did he get those writing utensils?! Apparently, he was attached to then and/or used them very often, but that didn't explain how they became part of his new form.
"Are other Valkyries (naturally, if such exist) just as short?"
"I... Uh... What?!"
"Sorry," the writer laughed. "Just kidding."
Yes, this was going to be an interesting experience for both of them...
The sun had already set by the time the Einherjar exited the house.
"Before I join you... Can you grant me one favor?"
"It depends."
"Can you allow the kids to see me for... half an hour? Please."
Although at the time she didn't understand why he asked for such a thing, Sonata decided to grant this wish. To her amazement, the man used his thirty minutes to lead the twins back into the house. She didn't follow him though.
Strangely, realization of one's death didn't have much effect on Albert. The fact that his nephews had witnessed it – now that worried him. Both boys were in a strange drowsy state when he noticed them. Did the Valkyrie do this? He would have to ask her later. At that moment there were more pressing matters to attend to. He only had thirty minutes... Scooping up the twins, he took them into the house and scaled the stairs to the second floor. Performing the usual evening routine of 'force two hyperactive six-year-olds to wash and go to bed' had never been so... effortless. Albert knew that this was going to be the last time too... When the two boys were finally tucked in and drifting off to sleep, the writer sighed in relief. Even though he wasted more that half an hour, the Valkyrie didn't seem to mind. At least this proved one thing: he was an ally to her, not a slave.
"Uncle... are you going somewhere?"
If he were still alive, Albert would have held his breath...
"Yes... I'm going far away," he spoke calmly, noting a pair of sleepy eyes watching him from beneath the covers. Without a single word he left the room, carefully shutting the door.
When the man reached the bottom of the staircase, he stopped. With a silent growl of frustration, he punched the nearby wall... And again... Regaining his composure, the Einherjar continued down the hall and through the back door.
She was waiting for him. A Valkyrie... Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the old Scandinavian myths were true. He stopped in two feet away from her. The battle-maiden had to tilt her head upwards to see his face. Burgundy-red met dark-blue. An awkward silence followed.
"Thank you," nothing else came to mind. "So... what are going to do now?"
The Valkyrie seemed relieved by this reaction.
"We are going to investigate the nearby woods."
"Sounds like a plan."
The Einherjar looked over the Valkyrie's head, scanning the yard. Spotting his body and, more importantly, the Mähne next to it, he brushed past the young woman and went to pick up the blade. If there were more monsters like the ones he faced... So be it. Warrior or writer – it didn't matter anymore. He will hunt down those freaks and put an end to their existence... Revenge or noble cause – he didn't care...