Page 30 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 30

Ravinica

FOLLOWING A HEARTBEAT of shock, the uproar was immediate. The trio—de facto leaders of the academy now—demanded to know what happened.

So we told them everything, not sparing any details.

“And you say the dark elves have returned to the Isle on the Yellow ?” Kelvar asked afterward, standing with his hands splayed out on the table.

Canute nodded. “The Yellow Wraith wasn’t at the dock when we arrived, obviously.”

“Which means they must be sailing around the eastern or western edges of the island.” Kelvar tapped his chin, lost in thought. “I’ll send scouts to patrol.”

Hersir Jorthyr paced endlessly, chewing on his nails with his head bowed, clearly exasperated and in a state.

Tomekeeper Dahlia rose from her seat. “Do the students know about Sigmund yet?”

Canute shook his head.

“Let us keep it that way.”

I scoffed. “Good luck with that.” I motioned behind me, stepping aside, and my mates marched in holding the stretcher with Sigmund’s body on it, the cloak covering his frame. “Everyone saw this. And they had questions.”

Dahlia hissed. “You idiots brought him here ?”

“Careful with your tone, woman,” Thane Canute answered in his gravelly voice. He folded his massive arms over his chest. “I would not leave the Gothi to rot beyond the Isle. He belongs here, buried among his family and other great men and women of Vikingrune Academy.”

I admired Canute’s deference to our dead chieftain, even if I felt he was misguided in who he should be protecting and following. As Kelvar had once told me, the Whisperer was not beholden to any single man or woman, he was beholden to the academy itself.

Canute did not share that feeling. From what I could tell, he took Sigmund Calladan’s death personally. I suspected they had been friendly after knowing each other for so many years. Maybe even more than friendly. I wasn’t going to start that rumor or judge it even if it was true.

Kelvar began pacing, perpendicular to Ingvus. It was comical seeing the two aged men relegated to anxious children, nearly bumping into each other as they walked and crossed paths.

The Whisperer said, “A vote will need to be held.”

“A vote?” I asked.

“To decide the next Gothi. This school cannot remain leaderless for any length of time.”

Ingvus and Dahlia were nodding.

Dahlia said, “I’ll assemble the council on an emergency basis. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of night. The Hersirs will come.”

Seemed that situation was in hand. In my mind, it didn’t matter which one of them took the reins. Sigmund had been a force and a presence —anyone other than him leading Vikingrune Academy would be a mere shadow of the man. I did not envy the person who took that position.

“The students will have questions,” I said, trying to play the game by giving the Hersirs a chance to tag in. Even if I don’t use their words, it would be nice to be on the same page as them. Maybe this is how I bring Ingvus and Dahlia on my side, using the Gothi’s death as a uniting effort.

Crazier things had happened.

The idea that Sigmund’s death could be a good thing made me feel like a piece of shit. I also had to remember his secret nickname had been the “dragonslayer,” and I was the only dragon at the academy. So, that aspect made me feel less like a piece of shit when I proverbially danced on his grave.

Kelvar looked at Canute, then at me, then at my five silent mates lined up behind me. “Ravinica, I’ve seen you work firsthand, in Alfheim. I’m not afraid to admit I was wrong about you. Perhaps you can be our conduit—the person who can speak to the academy on our behalf, as I said before, while we get this situated.”

To hear him say he wanted my help—the academy itself wanted my help—in public for everyone to hear, shocked me. I blinked and slowly nodded. “I . . . can do that. I think.” Is he asking me to relay the thoughts of the Hersirs . . . or to be their mouthpiece? Because one is very different from the other. “I won’t cover up the truth for your sakes, though.”

The corner of his lip lifted. “I would expect nothing less.”

“We have questions also,” Dahlia said.

My gaze swung to the gray bird-nest hair atop her head.

“You left with more people than you came back with,” the Tomekeeper went on. “And I don’t just mean Sigmund. What happened during the dark elves’ ambush?”

My shoulders sank. I shrank before their scrutiny and bowed my head. “Damon Halldan is dead. Eirik Halldan escaped with the elves.”

“ What ?” Hersir Jorthyr gasped, spinning to us on his heels. “The Drengr of two terms ago turned coat?”

“Swordbaron Korvan has mindshaping powers that rival Hersir Kelvar’s. Not only did he reveal himself as a dragonkin dark elf, he also controlled the minds of my brothers to do his bidding and fight us, while he escaped with my mother like a coward.” I spat the last word, moving my gaze between all three Hersirs.

Dahlia said nothing, her lips firm as she stared at me. I wilted from her gaze, as if she was trying to see how I felt about my brothers. She clearly had an opinion about all this because her own daughter had died getting too close to me.

Is that a now-you-know-how-I-feel look she’s throwing me?

Kelvar showed a hint of concern. “Your family faced a tragic loss, Ravinica. For that, I am sorry. It should have never happened.”

“Stealing away to Selby Village at a time like this was foolish to begin with!” Hersir Jorthyr exclaimed. His frustration made his voice crack, and I thought I saw a blur of tears welling in his eyes before he blinked them away. “Sigmund would know what to do about the jotnar on our doorstep.”

“Would he?” My blasphemous words earned gasps from Dahlia and Ingvus for besmirching our courageous leader’s good name. I shrugged in response. “He led us to the Selfsky Plains, and look what that got us.”

“Intelligence about the state of our enemy,” Kelvar said, as if speaking to a child. “It was not for nothing. Yes, we took heavy losses. So did our enemy.”

“Problem is, they have unlimited resources to draw upon,” Thane Canute chimed in. “If the draug don’t need to eat or sleep, and can be constantly reanimated, we can’t expect to keep up with that.”

My mates stepped forward, apparently having their own silent conversation with non-verbal language and looks behind us.

Corym said, “I can return to Alfheim and demand to know Maltor Vaal—”

“No,” Dahlia interjected harshly. “No one is leaving this academy until we have a plan. No more gallivanting through the Isle. Not while terrors such as this are upon us.”

There was something in her eyes when she said it. More than sadness and concern. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I got the sense that there was another reason she didn’t want us staking out to the elf portal alone.

She likes to watch people, I know that. Even more than Kelvar does. Magnus and his trek to the elf encampment, with Huscarls cherry-picked by the Tomekeeper to be his assassins, is proof of that.

So what was I missing? Why didn’t she want us going out there this time? As I already knew, she hated us. Wouldn’t getting rid of us help her?

“I’m in agreement,” Hersir Jorthyr said with a nod. “Obviously this little mission to Selby Village was ill-advised. All it led to was more death.”

“And more information., revealing the man we must face in order to get our enemies off our shores.” Kelvar pulled at his chin. He stared far off, to the floor, sitting again.

“Yes, and about that,” Dahlia said, “why do you think he chose now to reveal himself?”

I took a deep breath. Now that Sigmund was dead, I felt there was no need to hold back. Here goes nothing.

“I believe it has something to do with the fact that I, Hersirs, am also a dragonkin.”

The next morning, rioters were out in full force. I woke up early to the sounds of raging students. Shrill voices and shouting filtered in through my longhouse window.

My mates had stayed with me, no one trusting that the Hersirs had our best interests at heart. We trusted Kelvar, but Dahlia and Ingvus were wild cards. They didn’t exactly react well to my news about being a dragonkin.

We unanimously decided we needed to stick together for the foreseeable future—hopefully forever, in my mind—to keep everyone off our backs. Last thing we wanted was one of us getting picked off for any reason, as some kind of vengeance for Sigmund’s death, meant to punish the lot of us.

It was a good thing we stayed together, too, because the first conflict came ten minutes after waking up.

We were headed to a cafeteria to fill our bellies for the morning. The mess hall closest to my longhouse in Eir Wing, east, always had stale bread and unfathomably wet cheese, but the western cafeteria near Gharvold Hall, which fed the garrison and most of its workers, was solid.

A wall of fire rose up in front of us, sizzling and causing Magnus to tug me backward.

My mates quickly surrounded me as a group emerged around the two hillocks on the side of the road. In the group were Ayla, Gryphon, and Telmont. The bald-headed, beady-eyed initiate Telmont Perridan was the last of Damon’s clique, while Ayla and Gryphon were my brother Eirik’s lovers and comrades. Behind them stood five other men and women looking angry, hands tapping on the hilts of their hip-swords.

Ayla took the lead, the corded young woman crossing her arms over her chest and scowling as we stopped and went into a battle formation in the middle of the road. My mates surrounded me in a shield wall.

“What in Hel did you do with Damon and Eirik?” she called out. “What black magic is afoot in the Isle, bastards?”

Shit. They think we played a part in my brothers’ deaths. And why not? We were enemies. Eirik was ready to face off against Sven and Grim months ago. Damon constantly badgered me. Even though we came to an understanding shortly before his death—not to tell Sigmund about my dragonkin heritage—he still loathed me.

Admittedly, our situation looked quite suspicious.

I pushed to the front of the group. “I miss my brothers too, Ay—”

“Bullshit!” she snapped. “You think you’re a tier above everyone now, Ravinica, just because you’ve been to Alfheim and been given preferential treatment?”

My head reeled. “ Preferential treatment ? You do realize I’m the woman who has been scorned my entire time here, yes? Chastised for not having magic. Ridiculed for my ears and hair. Bullied for—”

“Things are different now, and you know it. Don’t change the subject, Linmyrr! Where is Eirik and Damon?!”

I flared my nostrils and ground my teeth together. She was hysterical. Nothing I could say would appease her anger.

“You don’t tell us,” Gryphon said next to her, “we’ll carve the info out of ya.”

“Like to see you try, dandy,” Sven chirped next to me. His sword and shield lifted higher.

“Think the six of you can take the eight of us?” Telmont asked in a croaky voice.

“I’ll take my odds, snake-eyes,” Sven answered.

The reptilian-looking initiate bared his teeth at my wolf shifter.

Glaring at Sven, I turned back to Ayla. “This is not the place for bloodshed, Ayla. Have your people stand down and let us pass.”

“Not until you tell us what we want to know, Linmyrr.”

I noticed Magnus and Arne sneakily creeping along my flanks in opposite directions, ready to attack if things popped off.

I tried to keep my heart calm, but it was difficult. I should have anticipated something like this would happen once we left with those two and came back without them.

“They were my brothers too, you know . . .” My voice was low, sad. I was hoping the genuine tone of my words would make them stand down.

It had the opposite effect.

“Share your sob story for someone who cares, pointy-ear!” yelled one of the cadets behind the main trio.

That got my mates riled up. They stood straighter, drawing their weapons and yelling incoherently, speaking over each other.

I raised a hand to shut them up. Bastard thinks I enjoy losing my brothers? “Damon is dead, killed by a dark elf,” I said, lying about the fact Magnus had done him in. “Eirik left with the dark elves, so I don’t know what to tell you about him.”

“Bullshit!” Ayla screeched. Her eyes trembled with fury. “You expect us to believe that nonsense? That a Drengr would go against the people he loves to fight for the Dokkalfar? How stupid do you think we are?”

Please don’t make me answer that. My mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. She was right: How was I supposed to explain it? The story sounded farfetched, even for me, when I said it out loud.

Ayla wasn’t going to give me the chance to feel sorry for myself. She stepped forward, waving her sword at me. “Ravinica Linmyrr, I challenge you to holm —”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, cadets.”

The voice that cut her off came from the top of the hill to my right. Everyone’s eyes veered over and up to where Hersir Axel Osfen stood in the morning gloom.

He paced down slowly, to the dismay of the raging, aggressive Ayla. For a moment, I nearly thought she was going to try to strike the battlemaster himself, her anger burned so bright. Then she hesitated and sheathed her sword.

“Chatter is over, kids, pack it up.” Axel waved a lazy hand at our two groups. “Let Ravinica’s people pass, Ayla. This is not how we conduct ourselves at Vikingrune Academy. Hersir Thorvi would be appalled.”

Hearing Thorvi’s name spoken aloud made us all cringe. Our defiant, angry stances shrank as we shared guilty looks.

Ayla gave a small salute to the shiny-headed Hersir. “Sir, I apologize, but my squadmate is missing and this woman has answers. I’ll not back down until—”

Axel grabbed her by the collar, the squat man nearly lifting her off her feet and drawing out gasps from her crowd. “You’ll do nothing, Ayla, as you’ve always done at this academy. You think Ravinica Linmyrr isn’t hurting from her brothers? We are resuming patrolling and tutoring duties starting today, nine o’clock sharp, given the everchanging landscape of this island. We must be ready to protect ourselves from our enemies. Not bicker with our own people. Do you understand me, cadet?”

Ayla gawked, thrown off her game, and slowly nodded in acceptance once her posse didn’t come up to bat for her.

Axel let her go and gave her a light shove.

Their group mean-mugged Axel and my group the entire time, but they eventually dispersed back around the hill.

Gods, I thought, relieved Axel had stepped in but hating that it took him to defuse the situation. The students here are going crazy from all the secrecy. I need to tell them something heartening for a change. But what? When things are so bleak, what sort of good news can I manufacture in such a tense situation?

If I wasn’t careful, a civil war would break out among the students and end our defense of the academy before it even began. You’d better be quick about deciding on the new Gothi, Hersirs, because this situation is fucked.

As we resumed walking to the cafeteria, a horn blew and reverberated through the academy. A lookout wailed loudly, which daisy-chained along the watchtowers.

I was awed at this new change, because it seemed the Norns gifted me exactly what I’d hoped for—good news, and a distraction from the awfulness of everything going on around us.

“Look there on the western horizon!”

“The golden armor! Glinting like the sun!”

“At the base of the mountain! The Ljosalfar are here!”