Page 20 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 20

Sven

I HATED WHAT I HAD to do. My father had become my enemy. Giving a directive for Edda, Ulf, and Olaf—gods rest his soul—to “put me in my place” was proof of that. Wrangling up the enemy Lanfen pack to corral me into a trap was icing on the cake.

Still, I knew it needed to be done. I had to swallow my pride for my little menace, who seemed to be getting more and more menacing as the months passed.

Part of me—the weak, doubtful side—wished I’d never met Ravinica Lindeen. She had complicated my entire life and worldview. The other part of me—the much louder, stronger part—wondered how I had ever lived without her.

I had purpose thanks to her. Love and camaraderie. A singular focus to do right for once, rather than whatever it was my cunning father bid me to do.

Thanks to Ravinica, I had become my own man. Now I needed Salos to see it, so we could put water under the bridge and move forward, before we had no more Isle to speak of.

I needed to show strength rather than servitude and weakness. It was my apparent “weakness” for falling for Ravinica that had caused this drastic schism between us.

No longer did I wish to kill Da, because I knew we needed him and his money and allies. He was a legacy graduate of the academy from around the time Gothi Sigmund was a student himself. He was the patriarch of our pack and commanded the respect of other pack leaders.

Salos couldn’t be my enemy, because the one we faced now was an existential threat to all of us—not just a threat to my own misguided sense of leadership and livelihood.

He was sailing here on the Red Wraith , one of the many colorful longships that dotted the southern shoreline of the Isle. It was the same ship I had taken to get here my initiate year, following in the footsteps of Olaf a year before me and Edda a year before him.

As I pulled on my gear to travel the morning after the burial ceremony, I watched Arne leave the academy through a building in the southern section of campus that led to the underground tunnels.

I noticed how he walked with purpose, a scowl on his pretty, fae face. A green cloak billowed in the wind behind him, his hair done in a long ponytail, and he marched with squared shoulders and pride in his chest.

Seems the lot of us are growing up, I thought vaguely, finding myself smiling at the man. Not looking like much of a dandy now, are you, iceshaper?

An hour later, midmorning, I was ready for my own trek. I went to Grim Kollbjorn’s longhouse quarters on the western side of campus near Gharvold Hall.

Knocking on the door of his small dwelling, I said, “Let’s go, bear. No time to lollygag.”

The door opened and I stepped back, eyebrows rising.

Edda stood in the way, arms crossed over her large chest. “Brother.”

“Edda. What are you doing here?”

She cocked her head. “After all the sweet things we said to you during the battle, you still thought it wise not to tell us you were planning on meeting with Da?”

Guilt filled me and I rubbed the back of my neck. “I . . . didn’t think about it, honestly.”

Her lips pursed on her flat face. “If we’re going to mend broken bridges, Sven, you have to trust us with your plans.”

“We?”

Ulf stepped up beside her, my larger, dumber, younger brother smiling from ear to ear. “Family reunion, brother.” His smile faded a bit. “Well . . . what’s left of our family.”

My jaw clenched at mention of Olaf, but I stuffed aside my pain and snorted. “Gods, Edda, you brought the cub with you?”

“Of course. He’s family.”

“It was my idea, wolf. You want to rage at someone, rage at me.” The new voice came from Grim, standing a head taller than my brother and sister behind them. He wore a huge black cloak, battle leathers, and his war-axe across his back. All three of them looked imposing with their choice of garb, and they were all taller than me.

It was unnerving. I scowled at Grim. “Tell me next time you plan a farce like this, Bjorn.”

Ulf said, “We won’t hold you back or jump you this time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, cub.”

The four of us left the dwelling and headed south toward the gate.

I scanned the campus grounds as we walked, asking Grim if she’d seen Ravinica this morning.

“Last I saw she was with Arne, seeing him off.”

“Lucky dandy,” I murmured.

“He needs a bigger ego boost than you do, Sven. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”

I barked a laugh, shouldering Sven as we continued. He didn’t budge, while I nearly threw myself back a few feet. The damned gargoyle, like a hunk of heavy stone.

Edda bumped his other side, smiling endearingly at him. “You know, I’ve never gotten the memory of you shifting from bear to human out of my mind, big man.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “If you ever decide that little silver-haired angel might break from what you’re packing, give me a ring.” She winked to finish her plea.

“Ew, Ed,” Ulf grumbled. “Your brothers are right here .”

Edda broke out into a belly-laugh, and I simply shook my head and smiled at her ridiculousness. She had always been a thirsty one, unafraid to speak her mind.

Grim’s face flooded with color, darkening. He wasn’t smiling. “That’s the first and last time you’ll speak about Ravinica like that, woman. Get your mind out of the gutter and don’t make me regret inviting you along.”

Edda continued smiling at his threat. As we reached the southern gate, she said, “So she can handle all that, eh? Color me shocked.”

I started to say, “Better than you can imagine, Ed—”

“I’m tempted to punch you in the face, Edda Torfen,” Grim said, stopping under the gate. The Huscarls above on the ramparts were watching us.

“Do it,” Edda said with a challenge in her eyes. She cracked her knuckles. “But if you’re going to, do it hard—”

Grim’s fist caught Edda on the side of the face, away from any breakable bits but enough to send her sprawling to the side and whipping her head.

“Fuck!” she finished, grabbing at her jaw, wobbling to stand straighter.

“Grim!” I shouted, rushing over. “What the Hel man, she’s my sister.” Gods above, am I going to have to be the peacemaker here? What a twist.

“I warned her,” Grim said easily.

A low chuckle rumbled from Edda as she massaged her sore jaw, working it open and closed. She laughed, shocking us as we stared at my crazed, eternally lusty sister. “Big mistake, bear,” she said in a gravelly tone, her devious smile spreading across her face. “Now I like you even more.”

Grim sighed, I rolled my eyes again, and Ulf chuckled.

We walked through the gates, leaving the Huscarls bewildered and confused at such a strange group.

But where my family was concerned, we had always been odd. I found myself smiling, feeling a hole in my heart where Olaf should have been, because I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this.

Rain started to fall a few hours later. We stood on the rocky shore of the Isle, gazing out into the placid sea, stern expressions on our faces.

Here, it seemed calm, with a light drizzle dotting my head. On the horizon, the vague gray clouds of our magical wards protecting the island swirled. Lightning slammed into the water, giving us a spectacle to watch as we waited.

“Nasty weather to be traveling by ship,” Ulf murmured.

“It was ordained by the gods, clearly,” Edda replied.

“And what, pray tell, is Njord trying to tell us with the lightning?” Grim asked her.

“That my father is unwanted here.”

I pointed out at a dark speck making its way through the barrier, just under the clouds. “Too late for that,” I said. “Look.”

My senses—hearing, smelling, sight—had always been stronger than those of my siblings. It took them another minute to notice the sail of the Red Wraith sluicing through the sea. White froth bashed against the ship’s hulls as it cut expertly through the waves. A jagged bolt of lightning slammed dangerously close to the Wraith in the water, less than a mile out, sending a bevy of tides crashing up against the ship.

I smiled. “Perfect conditions for seasickness.”

“Yes, my nefarious brother, it truly is,” Edda drawled.

Ulf asked, “What do you think he’ll do when he sees us here? You specifically, Sven.”

I shrugged. “Guess we’ll see. Probably won’t be too happy.”

Grim said, “That’s why I brought you two sad sacks along,” nodding to Ulf and Edda. “To make Salos stand down if it comes to it.”

We stood abreast, not trying to hide ourselves. A rocky outcropping rested behind us, rising to the mottled woods that led into Delaveer Forest and the way we had come. In front lay grainy sand, small boulders, the vast ocean, and the single ship. Closer, moored against a makeshift dock, were three other Wraiths —the Gray , Blue , and White.

Grim made a curious expression as he glanced out at the docked Wraiths , but I thought nothing of it.

I hadn’t been to the shoreline of the Isle since leaving here between my initiate and cadet year, returning home briefly to speak with my father during the fortnight we had off from classes.

I should have read the signs then, nearly two years ago now, because my father had treated me particularly poorly upon my return to our den in Norway. He had asked more questions than usual and seemed skeptical about my answers. He’d wanted to know a lot about the inhabitants of the school in particular, my peers, and the Hersirs especially.

I’d never known his relationship with Gothi Sigmund when they were students at Vikingrune. I imagined it was similar to Ravinica’s lack of knowledge about her mother Lindi and Sigmund.

Did they get along? Were they enemies? Why is Da here?

He had massive influence across the wolf shifter world. He was a donor to the academy, which meant nepotism had played its part in bringing his offspring through the school. Ulf, for instance, had never been qualified to attend based on his testing and skill-set alone.

Yet he’d been on the list, same year as Ravinica. As a measure of his embarrassment, Ulf had been forced to take the Gray Wraith here rather than the more esteemed Red Wraith , cutting the decades-long Torfen tradition of new initiates taking the Red to come here.

My father appeared to be renewing that tradition.

The longship landed a half hour later. I could see the deep resentment and anger across my father’s face as he jumped off the ship and waded through the knee-high waters to get to us. He was flanked by his usual retinue from our pack, including his younger brother, Uncle Gunne Torfen, and his chief of security, Osborn.

Osborn was a slight but dangerous shifter. He had wily eyes that immediately honed in on us at the edge of the shore. Gunne was tall—taller than my father—with a rotund belly and a scowl on his face. He clearly hadn’t seen any need to stay fit in his understandably posh position as a money-man outside Vikingrune Academy, ever since graduating a few years after my father.

Salos Torfen had a clean-shaven face, an angular jaw, and a sharp nose. He wasn’t broad like Edda and Ulf, sharing my wiry, corded build. A couple scars ran down his face—one nicking his chin, the other scaling from his temple diagonally down to the base of his ear. The ear on that side, his left, was missing.

Da had told us cubs that his wounds had come from dangerous Vikingrune missions in his youth, and from being foolish. His missing ear had always been symbolism, a warning example of what foolish actions led to.

As our father approached cautiously, his eyes landed on mine the longest. The scowl was so deep in his gaunt face I worried he’d turn into a skeleton before my eyes. Clearly he had not been expecting me.

Worse was the look he gave to Edda and Ulf, as if his gaze alone damned them for traitors. To Grim, he looked slightly confused, his brow jumping, before his face twisted when he noticed a glaring absence from our foursome.

I figured, from a distance, he had mistaken Grim for Olaf at first.

The trio stopped in front of us, ten feet away, boots deep in the sand.

“If you’re going to bring the whole family as a welcoming committee, why did you forget Olaf?” he asked in a grating, raspy voice that came from a life of smoking.

“Olaf is dead, Father,” Edda said. Her voice cracked at the end and she bowed her head. “Killed in battle by a lowly draug. The bastards.”

Father showed no sign of sadness, no hint of shame or guilt or anger. His face was unreadable. It made me irrationally furious that he couldn’t show emotion for our lost brother, his son, even now in front of us.

He looked to me, over his beaked nose. “What are you doing here, Sven? I figured my missive left no room for discussion.” His eyes snapped to Edda and Ulf, who stared on, shamefaced.

I folded my arms. “Times and situations have changed, Da.”

A lengthy pause settled between our groups. The rain started to fall harder, drizzle turning to drops.

Salos glared up at the sky, the gray clouds, and back to me. “Olaf is dead? Tell me everything.”

And so we did. We spoke about the battle against the Dokkalfar, jotnar, and their nefarious undead army. I thought my father would’ve known the information beforehand, but apparently not. He had been on the Red Wraith for days, after all, and I’d only learned of his itinerary through Edda.

Salos was silent the entire time, as were his two closest men. He had come with no guards other than his head of security, because he clearly saw no threat here.

It was obvious he knew much less about the goings-on here than I’d previously suspected. Or is he that pompous, to think he can buy his way out of any situation that goes awry—that he doesn’t need bodyguards when traveling to the Isle?

In the past, that would have been true. Now, we had predators afoot. The landscape of the island had drastically changed since he’d last been here.

Once we were finished with our tale, Salos said, “I am aggrieved over Olaf’s death. Was he given a proper burial befitting a Torfen?”

It was almost comical how little emotion he had in his voice when he said he was “aggrieved.”

With a nod, I lied, saying, “He was.”

“That’s all we can ask for, then. May he rest in Valhalla.”

In truth, Olaf’s body had never been recovered, because draug scum had eaten the remnants of his corpse after they tug-of-warred his body apart and left me holding his severed, bleeding arm.

Our cloaks fluttered in the wind, our standoff reaching a fever pitch of silence. My heart rampaged in my chest, staring at my deceitful father after so many months—knowing what he had ordered done to me. Wind whistled annoyingly through our two groups.

Salos was a ruthless, cutthroat man who saw no place for weakness. That was why he showed no sadness for Olaf’s death, because if Olaf died, then he must have made a mistake and shown weakness. Such was the way of my father’s thinking.

“I count six wolf shifters among us.” Salos nudged his chin at our tallest member. “Why is a bear shifter among this party?”

“Should we have brought the Lanfens instead, Da?” I spat rudely.

The first sign of emotion showed on his face—a tiny curl at the corner of his lip, a shadow of a smile.

“He’s here to support us,” I added.

“Us?” Salos waved his hand between Ulf and Edda. “You two would go against my edicts as well? Betray your father and kin?”

Edda gaped, struggling for the words. She rarely showed any lack of confidence, but in front of our vicious father, put on the spot, it was hard not to. Years of emotional baggage likely came roaring back to her mind.

“It’s not a betrayal, Father,” Ulf said, waving his hands, begging for peace. “Sven has changed. We have cha—”

“Shut your mouth, foolish cub,” Salos grated. “I was speaking to your sister, your elder.”

Ulf clamped his mouth shut in humiliation, grinding his teeth so loud I could hear it.

“So,” Salos said, “Sven does a noble deed during the battle, changing and lifting the hearts of his siblings in one fell swoop, and you’re all in line to depose me or take your revenge against your terrible father. Do I have that right?”

I took a step forward from my pack. “At first I wanted to depose you, Da. Now I just want to know why the fuck you’re here.” I decided to add a bit of fuel to the fire, hating how he spoke to us. “It’s not a great time for elderly statesmen of the academy to be roaming around the Isle, given all the threats.”

I saw the second thread of emotion on his face—righteous indignation—in the twitch of his brow. I was calling him weak and infirm. He knew it, we knew it, and I waited for his reaction.

My father was nothing if not in complete control at all times, however, and he simply sighed as if I was a bother and nuisance. “You have no idea what you’re up against, son, and you don’t deserve to know because I can’t trust you.”

I furrowed my brow. His words confused me—so abrupt and vague. I shook off the confusion and took another purposeful step forward, speaking through gritted teeth. “I fought alongside a bear shifter during that battle, and call him kin. Olaf died for this academy. The Lanfens, who wanted to see our pack dead just months ago, fought shoulder-to-shoulder with Torfens. Don’t tell me I have no idea what I’m up against, Father. You weren’t there. I was. And I’ve seen our people come together like never before.”

More silence.

Then, ever so slowly, my father began to . . . clap.

It was ridicule of the highest order, and I nearly shifted right then and there to challenge him to a fight. I would have if Grim hadn’t grabbed my shoulder and yanked me back, shaking his head with a severe frown to his face.

“That is why I am here, son, to speak with Sigmund Calladan. Change is coming to the Isle, as you said, and I don’t want Vikingrune Academy to be caught unawares.”

“What sort of change ?”

“A changing of the guard. Of how we do things around here. How we conduct ourselves. Who we conduct business with.”

How we do things around here? I was so angry I thought I would explode. You haven’t been here for decades!

. . . Right?

The idea of Salos Torfen pulling the strings behind the scenes all along, getting more than he was worth with his donations to the academy, made my stomach sour. I had no idea what my father did in the shadows, but he had essentially just given us the answer: He did much more than I thought.

What about the other things he said? I had so many questions. Who we conduct business with? How we conduct ourselves? A changing of the guard? What in Hel does it all mean?

I had so many damned questions, but he was already moving past my confusion to get to the crux of his position.

“However,” Da said, “since you’ve come all this way to greet me, argue with me, or . . . whatever you meant to do here . . . I will give you this final chance.”

“Final chance for what?” I assumed he was only speaking to me and not the other three.

“To fall in line.” His voice seethed with controlled anger. “To become the alpha you’re meant to be, so you might lead the Torfen name to prosperity with your cunning and acumen, Sven. So I know I can trust my son and hopeful pack heir to manage things when I’m gone.”

Lines creased my forehead. Was he giving me an ultimatum? It was difficult to parse through his words. I still wasn’t sure what he actually expected of me. What would I be “falling in line” to do? He refuses to clarify that vague notion.

A moment later, I shrugged the thought aside. It didn’t matter. I was on Ravinica’s side, always would be, and my father was essentially dead to me if he didn’t want to become allies in the coming conflict. If he wasn’t going to raise the Torfen banner, call upon the countless wolf shifters he had on speed dial, and swell our army with snarling teeth and wicked claws . . . then I had no use for him.

I spread my arms out beside me, gesturing to Edda, Ulf, and Grim. “I have my allies, Da. This is just a fraction of them. I have a pack, but it doesn’t carry the burden of the Torfen name with it. It’s a found family that is stronger than any bond you and I have ever shared.”

I hoped that explained my position clearly enough.

Ulf and Edda at least understood, their gasps ringing through the rain clear as a lightning bolt in the sea.

My father showed the first hint of sadness I’d seen, lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t sadness from learning about Olaf’s death, like a damned normal, sane father, but rather at me discarding his “offer” of peace, whatever the fuck it meant.

Just what are you planning, you conniving old fuck?

“A shame, son.” Salos composed himself quickly and stepped forward, closing the gap with his two allies and forcing his way through as I moved aside from Edda to let him pass.

Over his shoulder, he spoke, his voice more weighty and concerned than I’d ever heard, bringing goosebumps to my skin.

“Change is coming to Vikingrune Academy, cubs. We can either accept that and navigate ourselves so we’re best positioned for the future, or we can face the reaper like your brother did, and lose everything. The choice is yours . . . but the shift is coming no matter which side of history you’re on.”