Page 39 of The Last Valkyrie (Vikingrune Academy #4)

Chapter 39

Sven

OUR GANG WAS ALL SMILES when we returned to Ravinica’s longhouse, despite the dark elf threat on our doorstep. Not only had my bond with my little menace reached painful heights, but I’d also grown closer with these four men. There was no disputing that now, after what we did last night.

When we’d woken up in the late morning, Rav looked so beautiful and fragile in her sleeping state, sprawled naked across the bed. We decided not to rouse her, instead stealing away silently to get some food for our grumbling bellies.

A night of intense orgiastic fun had done something fierce for our appetites.

Now it was closer to afternoon, and we were returning with two plates of fresh food from the best cafeteria on campus from the western end.

Smiling at a joke Arne had told, I pushed open the door to the longhouse with the plate cradled in my arm. Mine was stacked with ham, bacon, eggs, and other savory food. Arne was holding the plate with the sweeter treats, which was appropriate for the dandy.

Immediately when I stepped into the room, I felt the wrongness of it. I halted, my smile fading as the word “Menace?” died on my lips.

The longhouse was empty. These weren’t traditional modern houses with various hallways and rooms, either. If she wasn’t right here in the main room, she wasn’t here at all.

“Fuck!” I yelled, setting the plate clattering down on the table next to the joking note Arne had left her.

The other guys filed into the room hearing my voice. Heads swiveled. It was clear she was gone—the indentation of her delectable body in the bedsheets was the only evidence she’d been here.

Magnus flared his nostrils, anger taking over his usually placid features. “Dammit, I told you we should have woken her to take her with us.”

“We were only gone an hour!” I yelled in defense.

Grim shook his head, a struck, fearful expression twisting his lips. “We said we would always be with her. Even an hour is too long.”

“Where could she have gone?” Corym asked, running a hand through his long silver-yellow hair. “The river to bathe?”

I nudged my chin out the door. “Go check.”

As we exited the house, before Corym could get more than five steps away, I called out to the nearest passing group of Vikingruners. “Oi!”

It was a group of three cadets, one of them clearly an initiate by the scared look on his face when I ran toward them.

“Any of you seen the dragon girl?” I asked stupidly.

They shook their heads, expressions blank.

A female cadet sitting ten feet away beneath a shady tree, reading a book, looked up at my frenzied question. “I did.”

The five of us hurried over to her.

“When?” Magnus demanded.

She shrugged casually. “About an hour ago? Maybe two?”

Magnus threaded his brow. “You’ve just been posted up here . . . for hours?”

Her face twisted with offense. “I like to read, draug. Got a problem with that?”

“Doesn’t fucking matter!” I yelled, shoving Magnus aside. “What did you see, girl?”

“Well, the giant black wings were a dead giveaway.” She smirked, bobbing her green hair. “They look wicked in the sunlight by the w—”

“Where was she headed?” Dread filled me.

“She flew off, southeast. I watched her until she became a tiny speck in the sky. Not every day you get to see a dragonkin, you know. I was entranced.”

I walked off with the others, not wanting to listen to her chatter any longer. My heart pounded as the dread seeping through my veins became worse.

“Where in Hel would she be going that’s southeast?” Grim asked.

We scratched our collective heads, huddled in a circle with the afternoon daylight baking us.

“The Lepers?” Corym asked, facing Arne. “Isn’t that where their hideout is?”

The elf would know, since he had lived with them at one point, essentially as a captive.

Arne shook his head decisively. “They moved camps. I found Dieter north of there.”

“Well—”

A muffled sound behind us cut me off. Something like a gasp and a whine.

I spun around—

My head lurched. “What the fuck?”

The green-haired girl sitting against the tree trunk was gone. Where she had been, the dirt was unsettled, mats of grass uprooted. It was like the earth had opened up and swallowed her whole.

The five of us crept over, hands inching toward our weapons. Something in the area reflected sunlight and I drew my sword instinctively.

It was the glossy cover of the girl’s book, tossed a foot away from the hole. The only evidence of her existence.

I hesitated. The thrum of dread pulsing through me reached a crescendo. I proverbially sacked up and leaned over the hole to peer in.

Sheer darkness. No sign of her at all. Like she had fallen through a caved-in tunnel.

“Guys,” I croaked. “What the fuck is going on?”

The first scream of the afternoon split the beautiful sky.

We sprinted toward the sound of the screams, westward.

Or at least we thought we were going in the right direction, because they seemed to be coming from all around us before too long.

Our weapons were out, shields in our hands. The cries were coming from inside the academy, but we hadn’t seen anything damning yet. Just a few confused-looking cadets who had also heard the sounds, proving we hadn’t gone mad.

We passed Tyr Meadow. Had we stayed longer we would have seen the man-sized gopher holes dotting the wide expanse of the prairie.

We were bee-lining for Fort Woden, that stark-black monolith looming over all of Vikingrune Academy, holding all its secrets. Because that was where the screams were coming from—the first signs of actual danger.

Dark-robed acolytes were running from the various doors of the fortress. They were surrounded by high metal gates, acting like cages, iron and impenetrable and keeping them in.

Impenetrable if you didn’t have a bear, anyway.

It was odd seeing the place without any Huscarls guarding every nook and cranny beyond the gates. When Sigmund had been Gothi, the castle was always well-defended. Roving Huscarls made it impregnable, and any student was a fool for trying.

Then again, everything was strange right now, nothing made sense.

I took one glance at Grim as we ran for the frontmost gate. He nodded, shifting midstride, and then galloped ahead in his polar bear form.

With a great roar he put his full weight and momentum into the gates, barreling into them and never slowing his speed.

An explosion of screeching metal and flying stakes rumbled the ground. Grim shook his head and trotted into the courtyard of the castle.

Two acolytes streamed past us, their robes fluttering as hoods fell from their bald heads. Other than the pale looks on their faces like they’d just seen ghosts, neither said a word to us. They just kept fleeing.

I said, “Let’s see what’s inside.”

“If there are innocent people in there under attack, we have to help them,” Corym agreed.

The five of us charged into the castle. It felt bizarre being admitted in without anyone trying to stop us.

Inside was no different. The place was a ghost town. The ornate hallways were undisturbed and eerily quiet. It was like something out of a horror script, with blood splashed across one wall, yet no body in sight.

I gave a stern glance at my men. We crept onward, back-to-back, not willing to give any ground or make any sudden moves.

My heart thrummed wildly—not because I was scared, but because Ravinica was still out there, missing. And we were in here, doing gods-only-knew what.

“Hello?” Grim said aloud as we scuttled down a hallway and then a second one. A staircase lifted to the second story, spiraling up to our right.

A shadow split the corner of my eye and my head whipped left.

“I saw you!” I charged after the shape.

“Sven!” Magnus hissed, and the foursome tailed me.

We pushed into an octagonal study room—

Where a tall, lanky man stood in a black robe, back to us.

His shoulders sank as we emerged through the door.

My father turned around, Salos’ face cut in a deep groove that looked something like regret.

My knuckles whitened against my sword as I stepped forward. “Father. What the fuck is going on here? What did you do ?”

He was alone.

And we were in desperate need of a talk.

The sides of the room were fitted with doors hidden in shadows, about six of them. This was an anteroom, a transition space to lead people down one hallway or another.

“Go,” I told my mates. “Find out if there’s anyone alive in this place. I’ll deal with the Gothi.”

“Sven . . .” Grim eked out.

“Go, Bjorn! Corym was right. If there are innocent cadets in here, you need to help them. I won’t let dear ol’ Da out of my sight.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Magnus growled, and then tugged on Grim’s shoulder and spun around to go the way we had come. Their footsteps pounded on the marble floor until they reached the gaudy red rugs and faded away.

I was left alone with my father. The man who had tried to get me killed because I was proving to be too independent for the Torfen pack to lead. He had put me in the hospital by tainting my siblings’ minds because I had aligned myself with Ravinica.

“What are you planning, Father? What were those screams we heard, and why are the gates unguarded? This is the most prized building in Vikingrune Academy. You’ve been stuffed away in here for days.”

“I know my ascension to Gothi caused a shock to you, son. I am sorry about that.”

“Bullshit. I don’t believe the words you said during the assembly. I don’t think you do, either. Allying with magicless humans? You hate humans.”

A smile flipped the side of his thin lips. “You know what they call me outside the Isle, Sven? The Great Uniter. The Great Hope of the shifters.”

“I’m happy for you, Da,” I said sarcastically. Uniter of what ? I wondered.

He flapped a hand vaguely in front of him, and then hid them in the cuffs of his long sleeves. “It’s true, mentioning an alliance with the humans was simply a distraction. Get the student body focusing on that, while I brought the packs in to claim Vikingrune. They possess magic like us, son. Is that such a wrong thing?”

“You’re trying to change the academy into a haven for shifters? Why didn’t you just tell me that?” I was incredulous, and I wasn’t about to lower my sword, either.

“Because people will have to die to make room for our kind, son. Many people won’t be happy if they learn their classes will be inundated with wolves. There’s still time to join me, you know. We are stronger together . As a pack, like we’re meant to be.”

“Did you play a part in Sigmund’s death?”

We circled each other like sharks. With Salos’ hands hidden inside his sleeves, I had no idea what he was doing in there.

Salos sighed. “Sigmund Calladan was blind to the changing of the tides, my cub. Honorable to a fault. His time here needed to end.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I spat through gritted teeth.

He tried an innocent expression on his gaunt face, his beady eyes getting smaller. I knew better than to trust it, seeing it a thousand times throughout my life.

Raising his hands to his sides in surrender, he smiled. “All I did was write a letter.”

It took me a moment to grasp his meaning.

Then I inhaled sharply, shocked.

The letter to Ravinica, allegedly from her mother. Claiming her sickness. Given to Rav before Father even showed up here—given to Sigmund first. Things started to rapidly fall into place, and my father’s devious smile grew.

Of course Salos would know Lindi Foradeen. All these bastards went to school here together, a generation ago.

. . . More importantly, so did Sigmund. Da would have known all about Sigmund and Lindi’s relationship.

That letter was never meant for Ravinica . It was penned by my father, placed into Gothi Sigmund’s hand with Rav’s name on it because Da knew Sigmund was obsessed with the half-elf girl from Selby, and that he’d read the letter before giving it to my little menace.

“You knew Sigmund would join us on the Wraith. That he would go to Selby Village, ridding you of his presence here in Fort Woden.”

One thing wasn’t clicking, though. My father said nothing, but he didn’t have to. I could see the truth written there, as scheming and wicked as ever. I thought I saw glee there, a father watching his son unravel the truth.

“. . . But how could you know Sigmund wouldn’t come back?” The words fluttered from my slack jaw. A gasp ripped through me. “You’re in league with Swordbaron Korvan! You partnered with the monster so Sigmund wouldn’t leave there alive!”

A silver blade rushed to meet my face, drawn from Da’s sleeve.

The displaced wind caused me to jolt back. I brought my sword up at the last second, and our steel met with a loud clash.

“Perhaps you’re not as stupid as I took you for, cub,” Salos said as our swords crashed together. “Korvan has promised much assistance in reshaping Vikingrune in a respectable image. What’s happening now is just a means to an end.”

I pushed him back. But what is happening now?!

He swung again, Shaping with his free hand—trying on another distraction.

I spun away from his blade, whipped my shield out over my back, and smacked it against his wrist to stop his spell.

The rune snuffed out. He growled, shaking his hand, circling again.

A huge black form took residence in the shadows to my right—in front of a door. In the room.

My mind screamed. Dark elf! Fuck!

I danced to the left, away from Da and the shadow.

It stood stoic, unmoving. Nothing more than a spectator—perhaps not even a living entity, but a gargoyle subterfuge cast by my father.

“Strike him down, dammit. I have things to do!” Salos yelled, spit dripping from his mouth.

My brow furrowed and I glanced over, keeping my sword and shield up.

The shadow took shape as I squinted. It had been hard to make out its individual features because there was a gigantic shield in front of him, making him seem wider and inhuman.

Thane Canute took a step toward me.

Dammit. Not both of them . . .

The Huscarl lord’s single eye trained on me. It flitted over to Salos.

“Fight, Thane!” my father shouted. He lunged at me again, and I easily smacked his sword aside.

THUNK—

My head whipped over as Canute’s shield dropped to the ground and wobbled for a moment before settling.

The Thane crossed his huge arms.

A spectator and nothing more.

I grinned at my father. “Your control and influence only go so far, dear Da.”

My sword whipped toward his face.

He ducked, growling to take my legs out from under me as his robe fluttered around him in a circle.

I slammed my shield down, catching his sword—stepped into his guard—and elbowed him in the face with a crunch of cartilage.

Salos’ head snapped back, blood spurting from his broken nose.

“You turned my brothers and sister against me,” I said, enraged yet keeping my wits.

I sliced my blade again. He barely parried it, backpedaling, put on the defensive.

My anger grew the more steps I took—the closer I became to toppling my father from his pedestal of lies and deception.

“Worse than that, Father, you tried to separate me from the woman I love more than anything in this realm.”

Our blades caught, his parry desperate as he kept one hand on his bleeding nose, his tearing eyes.

I slid the edge of my sword down to his guard, forcefully ripping down.

Da was forced to unhand his weapon and let it go flying, lest he lost the tips of his fingers.

It clattered off into the shadows.

“As your Gothi, Thane, I command you to strike this usurper down!” he screeched, thrusting a finger at me.

My blade took the finger off at the knuckle.

Salos screeched, blood spurting.

Turning, he made to run—

Something caught his foot.

A groaning sound from beneath the earth itself.

All three of us glanced down—

A skeletal hand held his foot in place, just like it had Olaf shortly before he was ambushed.

Draug!

Father inhaled sharply. His face went white. For the first time I saw the note of death on his features—his impending demise from all his tricks and conceits going belly-up.

“ This is what you’ve allied yourself with, Da,” I growled, taking a step toward him and gesturing toward the broken tile and gnarled hand with my sword.

Another step made him shrink back, desperately trying to shake his foot free of the hand gripping his boot, keeping him from running.

“However,” I said grimly, “there are some things that even you can’t control, Salos.”

Canute lifted his shield from the floor and stepped forward menacingly—

Just as Da screamed at me, his face twisted into a grimace—an unhinged husk of the strong alpha I had admired as a child. A man whose pride in me was always just out of reach.

The draug’s death-sick face ripped up from the disturbed ground with a wheeze. A second hand grasped Salos’ other boot and ventured up his leg.

I recalled Olaf’s scared face just before his death; and the looks of hate my siblings gave me as they punched and kicked me, ambushing me, betraying me on our father’s whims.

“No more,” I whispered to myself.

With a scream that matched my father’s, I plunged my sword into his chest.