Page 16 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 16

Ravinica

THAT EVENING, CORYM and Magnus left the academy to head for the elf portal. They packed light and used the cover of darkness, planning on moving swiftly through the Isle to avoid detection and get into Alfheim before anyone noticed they were gone.

They were leaving under the directive of Gothi Sigmund, which was a surprising shift in the political landscape for Sigmund, who had latched the gates and sealed off the academy before our fateful fight against the draug and jotnar. It seemed to put into perspective the direness and necessity of their quest, if the Gothi was allowing them to leave.

Before they departed, I asked, “What’s your plan if dark elves are guarding the portal? Sigmund withdrew all soldiers at the encampment since the fight, with enemies running freely around the Isle.”

The duo noticed the lines of worry etched on my forehead, my fidgeting hands. Corym put a calming touch on my knuckles, drawing my hands into his. “We’ll create distractions, lunis’ai . We’ve already discussed this.”

“Don’t underestimate my shadowshaping skills, love,” Magnus told me with a wink. “We’ll be all right.”

I let out a heavy, deep sigh. “Okay.”

And then they were gone, leaving me with Grim, Sven, and Arne.

The four of us attended the campus-wide burial ceremony for the lives that had been lost during the battle. We wanted to make a show of camaraderie, and possibly even tie new bonds together with rivals we had, such as Damon and Eirik and their cliques. We were facing a common foe now, which meant we needed to put petty familial squabbles behind us. In my opinion, anyway.

Plus, I had a couple things I needed to ask my brothers.

The event took place on the wide expanse of Tyr Meadow, just to the north of Gharvold Hall where our garrison lay massively depleted since the fight.

Nearly everyone showed up to pay their respects. It was a somber ceremony, filled with tears and anger. I gave nods to many cadets and initiates I recognized from the battlefield, receiving the same kindness from them. Jaws were clamped shut, and the whole student body seemed ready to explode soon if they weren’t given some semblance of hope.

Gothi Sigmund led the procession with a quick speech about togetherness and other bullshit he clearly didn’t believe in, but was trying his best to speak about in order to shape the structure of the academy to his liking.

It was Hersir Gudleif Selken, however, who gave the keynote eulogy. The tall, straight-backed runeshaping teacher took to the top of a hill in the balmy night, the moon casting a purple glow on the grass beneath our feet.

Hundreds of cadets were present, staring up at the Hersir in her dark robes and cloak. Many of us held lit torches as symbols of people we’d lost. Bodies had not been recovered in our hasty retreat—another fact that irked many of the students and soldiers alike—which meant we had to do unorthodox things for this mass burial ceremony.

There would be no longship firings or underground ship burials to ease the passing of our comrades. Only whispers, heartfelt eulogies, and sober accolades.

Gudleif cleared her throat, speaking above the wisp of wind fluttering across the meadow. “Our fallen will never be forgotten, students. Though their deaths may seem pointless and impossible now, always remember that they died protecting the sanctity of our home. Our purpose. And what purpose is that? To defend our realm against the other realms that seek to do us harm.

“We may never know why the jotnar have decided to strike now, or why the Dokkalfar find themselves on our island, eager to breach our wards to reach the wider expanse of Earth. It’s not our jobs to know. It’s our jobs to learn and to fight .” She punched a gloved fist into her open palm, baring her teeth in anger at the last words.

“No one exemplified that belief more than my colleague, my friend, and tutor to so many of you. I speak, of course, of Hersir Thorvi Kardeen.” A small, sad smile crossed Gudleif’s face, nearly hidden in the silhouetted darkness behind her.

“Though Thorvi may have been unassuming and small in stature, she was mighty in her convictions. A scholar, first and foremost, Thorvi came from humble beginnings. Many of you may not know this, but she began her adult life in a governmental position among the magicless. An only child, Thorvi had no one else to look to for guidance. She made a mission to provide the guidance she had lacked in her own young life to others coming up. She became jaded with the endless bureaucracy of her position and world, shirking those menial responsibilities and escaping to a small village on the fringes of civilization when her powers came to fruition.

“There, she excelled as tutor and teacher. She learned the ways of battle, so she might attend Vikingrune Academy and pursue a more honorable path. She excelled here as well, which should come as no surprise to anyone given her intransigent demeanor to succeed, learn, and get things done.”

I could hear the sniffles and tears beginning to fall as all of us cadets undoubtedly recalled specific times when Thorvi Kardeen had assisted us in our History & Tomes, Races & Realms, and Advanced History classes.

She had been warmer than the other Hersirs like Axel and Gudleif. She had given me leave multiple times when I’d been in conflict with other students, or upended at Eir Wing recovering. Like Gudleif, she never put any weight or acceptance in students bullying me or others.

“As you all know, Thorvi was a woman of merit. She judged others on their merit as well. Nepotism was a foreign expression to her. As one who did not come from a legacy family, no amount of coin or baiting would get her to change her position or beliefs. And above all, Thorvi Kardeen was a Hersir who believed , to her core, in what Vikingrune Academy stands for. We have not always done everything correctly, surely, yet councilors like Hersir Kardeen have always tried to right the ship and see us in the correct direction.”

Gudleif flared her nostrils, glancing away from the gathered crowd for a moment. I thought I saw a glint of tears trailing just below her eyes, but it could have been a play of the moonlight and torches.

When she turned to us again, her voice was torn, raspy as she finished her eulogy. She let out a heavy sigh before continuing. “I wish you all could have known Thorvi Kardeen like I did, for as many years as I did. We were more than colleagues. We were . . . family.” Her voice cracked, and a surprised wave of gasps lifted from the audience. “She was the best of us, the kindest of us, and showed her true grit in the face of unimaginable odds, pitting her small self against the largest of giants so she could protect us one last time. Frizzy hair flowing in the wind, glasses askew, hands raised to shape a protective barrier around our people.”

Gudleif raised a torch, Shaped a small spell, and looked heavenward as she sent fire and smoke fluttering in a great billow that brightened the sky—a symbolic gesture to signify Thorvi’s passing to Asgard.

“You died fighting and defending,” Gudleif said in a lower voice meant for the gods and not us, “and will be welcomed in Valhalla. I will see you again there, my love.”

The torch went out a second later, snuffed out by Gudleif’s incredible powers over the runes. She left the knoll, showing her back to us, with her tall body deflated and hunched.

“Family” . . . “My love.”

Gudleif’s words lingered long after she was gone. The contingent of students watching and waiting for the next eulogy remained quiet and thoughtful.

It was doubly hard to take Thorvi’s loss learning these new things about her, coming from the mouth of Gudleif Selken herself. Undoubtedly the rest of the cadets thought the same, as Gudleif essentially told us she and Thorvi had been lovers, partners, and possibly even wives.

I fought back a sob, trying to stay strong. A hand grasped mine against my side—the hand of Arne Gornhodr, whose own face looked waxy with tears. He gave me a sad smile and nod, which I returned before resting my head on his shoulder.

Grim and Sven were stoic on either side of me and Arne, trying to keep their faces stern and emotionless while they comically mirrored each other with their arms folded over their chests. Yet I could see the sadness in their eyes too, the twitches of concern on their chins, the wrinkles in their foreheads. They didn’t possess the implacable poker faces my “emotionless” mate Magnus carried with aplomb.

For every student that followed in Gudleif’s footsteps, gaining the knoll and speaking of their lost loved ones and friends, the weight across the audience grew heavier. Hundreds of cadets, soldiers, initiates, acolytes, trainers, and trainees, all mashed together to listen to the final words of lost souls.

At one point, as Edda Torfen took to the knoll, I gripped Sven’s hand hard in mine. He had been ready to walk away, but I forced him to stay and listen to Edda—the eldest Torfen at the academy—speak about their lost sibling, Olaf.

By all accounts, from what I’d heard floating through campus over the last few days, Olaf had died in Sven’s arms. Sven had tried to rescue him from a draug swarm, ultimately failing.

I didn’t know the gruesome details of Olaf’s death. I didn’t need to. The hurt on Sven’s face was enough—that was all that mattered to me.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” I whispered to him. “We will make it through this. I promise.”

He swallowed slowly, his throat bobbing, and nodded. The poor wolf probably didn’t trust his words enough to speak, and as Edda ended her eulogy, it was another student who took her place.

Randi spoke about a deceased acolyte-in-training from Eir Wing, a promising medic who was torn apart by draug while trying to set the wounds of fallen comrades.

Dagny talked about someone from Mimir Tomes, where she was doing her acolyte training to become a librarian under the tutelage of Tomekeeper Dahlia. Though I hated Dahlia, I loved Dagny like a sister, and to hear her lament on a dead friend brought more tears shining in my eyes.

Arne went up and spoke about Rolf Blisdan from his home village—the large young man he had personally brought here on the Gray Wraith , along with me and Ulf Torfen and others. Recalling the few interactions I’d had with Rolf, I had been fond of the man.

Rolf had beaten Randi’s butt when we first started our training under Axel Osfen, as initiates. He had tossed her around like a ragdoll, but hadn’t been overtly violent or mean. That incident instigated Randi to learn how to fight better from me and Grim, and she had gotten her revenge later on during our midterm capture-the-flag game, facing off and holding her own against the bigger, stronger Rolf.

Gods, that midterm seems a lifetime ago. A simpler time. Back when Astrid Dahlmyrr was alive and hated me. Before Randi and Ulf became an item.

Most everyone here had seen Rolf courageously—foolishly—take on that giant bull-like monster head-on, trying to distract it while we worked to bring it down. His actions led to a violent, savage death, impaled by that monster’s horn.

But his death was largely indicative of the entire ceremony: It was a brutal affair. There was no getting around that. In all, we had lost nearly a hundred souls to the wayward battle, which accounted for almost a quarter of our forces at Vikingrune.

We were a small, tight-knit school, I was coming to realize. Our numbers were miniscule in the grand scheme. So what in Hel are we doing battling each other so often, getting into fights and brawls, when we should be closer to a family dynamic?

We were the “special” ones of this realm. There weren’t many academies that taught magical people how to hone their crafts.

Others outside these walls, in the civilizations across the world, are scared of us, if they know we exist at all. We’re seen as freaks, dangers to society, and enemies. We should not be treating our own peers as enemies also!

If nothing else than filling me with sadness, lamenting over the senseless deaths, the ceremony reinvigorated me to complete my task of building a unified, strong alliance. Not just among us and the elves, but among our own people, too.

I didn’t see it as a vision or na?ve hope. I saw it as a necessity now. We’d never survive this conflict if we didn’t come together and learn to trust each other.

I needed to see if my brothers were of the same opinion. Before leaving the knoll, as students began to disperse to sleep or drown their sorrows, I went into the lion’s den, approaching Eirik, Damon, and their friends, with Arne, Grim, and Sven behind me.

My mates kept hands close to their weapons, straying only five feet back. To my surprise, Edda and Ulf slowly inched our way to stand behind my mates, with Randi and Dagny close as well.

There in the grass, a line was drawn. Me and my allies, facing Damon and Eirik as they stepped forward from Gryphon, Ayla, and Talmont.

I clenched my jaw, inclining my chin to them. “Brothers,” I said in a rough voice. “I’m sorry about Tyrus,” I told Eirik. His full-time comrade and polyamorous lover with Gryphon and Ayla did not return from the battle. To Damon, I said, “And about Gertrude Lanfen. I know she meant a lot to you.”

“You don’t know shit about us, Ravinica,” Damon spat, flaring his nostrils. “You’ve never taken the time to care enough. To learn.”

I knew Damon’s pithy response was coming from a place of trauma and sadness. I fought down my anger, ignoring the low growl from Sven behind me. It was Sven, after all, who had mollywopped the entire Lanfen pack, systematically, including the broad-shouldered lass Gertrude.

“She was never the same after you gave her a concussion,” Damon told Sven over my shoulder. “You know that?”

Sven showed no emotion. “I did not. She should have never schemed to—”

“Enough,” I said before he could get going defending himself. “I’m not here to argue or fight.”

Eirik said, “Then why are you here, little sister?”

I waved a hand at the emptying field, the lamenting students as they exited in every direction. “Do you see what’s going on around us? Jotnar, Dokkalfar, draug. Enemies are everywhere. I don’t want to count my own brothers among that group.”

Eirik had the decency to stay quiet, looking shamefaced as he glanced toward the ground.

Damon, however, scoffed. “You should have never been here, Rav. It was a farce.” He sneered, eyes glaring. “Perhaps if you can’t handle the heat . . . you should leave.”

There was pure vitriol in Damon’s eyes, which made me sadder than anything else. But his words fueled my rage, and I couldn’t hold back my spite. Something snapped inside me.

“The only farce , Damon, was your name being called instead of mine at Selby. We both know it. I bested you in every category. Tell me how that’s fair? I belong here!”

The truth needed to come out. Perhaps an explosion was what we needed to move past all this silly shit.

Damon opened his mouth to argue, stepping forward to go chest-to-chest with me even as our respective groups hemmed in closer in case we came to blows.

I held a hand up, stopping him short. “And so do you.” My words brought silence to the standoff. “I belong here . . . and so do you. Not one or the other, but both of us.”

Confusion joined the fury in Damon’s eyes.

“We fought together on the battlefield,” I said. “We’ve never done that before. We survived. You showed me you’ve become a much stronger fighter than I gave you credit for in the past, and I’m sorry.”

Damon’s chin twitched, as if the validation was all he’d needed to shift his thinking.

Eirik took over. “And you showed us . . . we don’t know. What in Hel was that, Vini?”

I pursed my lips. “I don’t have the answers for what I am, E, but I intend to get them. I am part dragonkin. I know, I know, it’s crazy to me also. It’s a long story.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I need to know one thing. Have you told anyone what you saw in Delaveer Forest? About . . . me.”

My words came fast, shocking everyone. I was leaving it all out on Tyr Meadow, desperate to keep my dragonkin secret from Gothi Sigmund the dragonslayer.

Finally, after a quick glance between Eirik and Damon, it was my older brother who shook his head.

“We haven’t,” he said. “There’s been no time to discuss it or mention it to anyone.”

I nodded slowly, gauging if I could believe him or not. Reading his eyes. I saw no deception there, yet I couldn’t be sure.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to walk away. “Please keep it that way.”