The Flame of Loki (ebook)

They were nearly at the finale of Sigurd Sigmundson’s unhappy tale, and Hermod was glad for it. Though telling tethered the einheri here in Valhöll, he did not relish the fresh agonies he saw writ upon Sigurd’s face. Every soul here had met a violent end, true, but some were bitterer than others.
“A year had passed since Brynhild had wed Gunnar, for her, a year of torment, living in Castle Niflung and seeing the man she loved wed to another. She did not know that Odin had broken the spell on Sigurd and thus believed her secret agony hers alone. Mayhap she ought to have rebuked Gudrún’s overtures of friendship. I might warrant she had accepted such companionship because she had no one else … though in truth, I think it more like Brynhild was deep in her misery, she welcomed the further suffering such a relationship heaped upon her. I think she hated herself, by then, and thus accepted each new torture as her due.
“So, the two of them went down to the sea, and Brynhild shuddered at the lap of the waves on her heels. Even now, in summer, the waters were colder than the rivers she was accustomed to.
“‘Just get it over with,’ Gudrún called. The Niflung princess had already waded out into the Gandvík and was waving at Brynhild. Probably she meant her taunts playfully. She had been the one to invite Brynhild to come swim with her and Brynhild would be twice damned if she’d let the other woman demonstrate even a morsel of more daring than her. The summer breeze whipped against her bare skin, raising gooseflesh over her arms and legs and making the water about her ankles seem all the colder. ‘It’s not bad once you’re accustomed to it!’ Gudrún shouted.
“Brynhild shot her a look of mock scorn. Despite herself, she almost wanted to like the other woman. A year together had been nigh enough to convince her Gudrún knew naught of what she’d stolen from Brynhild. And whilst, as I said, I think the friendship pained her, she cleaved to it.
“Gudrún’s mother, Grimhild, was another matter altogether, and Brynhild found herself oft considering eviscerating the sorceress, could she but have found a way to do so without provoking terrible retribution down on Heimir and Bekkhildr.
“Forced to take Gudrún’s advice, Brynhild rushed into the sea, letting the cold hit her all at once rather than one painful nip at a time. The sudden shock of it left her almost paralysed for a moment, and gasping.
“‘A little bad, maybe,’ Gudrún said, chuckling to herself.
“Teeth chattering, Brynhild turned her gaze back to the other princess. From what she’d heard, Grimhild’s unnatural long life had withered, and yet now the woman’s beauty seemed restored. Though hardly schooled in sorcery, Brynhild could guess at the means by which the Niflung queen mother had achieved this end. Indeed, it must have involved the sacrifice of innumerable young girls, siphoning off the life they ought to have had to further extend her own. It was a shame Odin had failed to kill the vile creature thus far. Had he but done so, everyone might have been saved a great deal of grief.
“Brynhild, however, by then must surely have known Odin made each move with purpose, planned oft years in advance.
“‘It’s not that cold,’ Gudrún ventured. ‘Yet you seem as if it’s driven you into a torpor.’ She splashed water at Brynhild, though she was too far out for more than a little spray to rush over Brynhild’s face.
“Treading water, Brynhild made her way out to where the Niflung princess waited but found herself too lost in thought to form much of an answer.
“‘I’ve been reading of late,’ Gudrún said.
“Brynhild turned to her, drawn from her musings by the utter suddenness of Gudrun’s statement. ‘The Niflung library is vast.’
“‘Aye, well, I’m told it’s but a fraction of what it once was, back in the days of the Old Kingdoms.’
“‘And that is what you read of?’
“‘Hmmm.’ Gudrún was panting a little from treading water. ‘I was actually looking into the decline of the Odlingar.’
“‘Why them?’
“‘I … I used to have an amulet they’d held, one that far predated them. It allowed me to take the form of a seal and swim beneath the sea. In my whole life, I have never known such freedom as that, though the depths do hold a certain terror, an unknown presence down there. Still, to swim free, it felt like flying.’
“Brynhild grimaced at that, though she doubted Gudrún could see it. As a valkyrja, she’d been able to fly, both on her own or in the form of a swan. It was a grace she dearly missed, though it seemed distant now, most days.
“‘In any event,’ Gudrún said, ‘the Odlingar were masters of the Gandvík Sea and had trafficked with saealfar, which is where I suspect they got the amulet in the first place. I wonder only how they managed to call up such creatures.’
“Brynhild could not help but groan at that. ‘Tell me you are not fool enough to delve into the Art once more?’ Gudrún did not speak overmuch of her past, but it was enough to know she had been a sorceress and had suffered having her body possessed by the vaettir she tried to control. To have recovered from that put her ahead of most any sorcerer Brynhild had ever heard tale of. Since then, Gudrún appeared to have controlled the addictive desire the Art created in its practitioners.
“‘No … no … I just wanted to know.’
“Scoffing, Brynhild swam farther out. The Niflung princess might be short of breath, but Brynhild had long training as a warrior. And since Gudrún had insisted they come here, she would at least use the opportunity to truly work herself a little.
“‘What are you doing?’ Gudrún demanded. Brynhild chuckled and kept swimming. ‘That’s too far!’ Gudrún shouted after her.
“Now Brynhild turned about so she could look back at the Niflung princess. ‘Maybe for one who needs an amulet to swim. I spent my life honing my body. I imagine I could swim to the mainland if I had to.’
“‘You’d freeze to death first. Stop being a Hel-cursed fool.’
“Sneering, Brynhild kicked herself out further. Burdened by such silent torments as weighed upon her, ’twas small wonder the result would be Brynhild’s petulance. The Niflung princess thought she knew so very much about Brynhild, but she had no idea what they had brought into their midst. Gudrún’s family had invited an adder into their very beds. They had bespelled Sigurd and yet had the temerity to send their prince asking for her hand. While Gudrún might have known naught of all these things, Brynhild still had half a mind to drown the other woman out here just to punish Grimhild.
“No, but it would bring about the same bitter end to Bekkhildr. Besides, part of her almost liked Gudrún. Sometimes. When she didn’t hate her.
“‘What in Hel’s name does this mean, Brynhild?’ Gudrún snapped.
“‘Why do you expect me to pretend to be your equal?’ Brynhild demanded. ‘I am not bound by your limits, Niflung.’ No matter how hard she tried, sometimes Brynhild could not deny the venom bubbling in her gut. Odin and Grimhild and all the others had bound her to this bitter urd. ‘I am stronger than you. My husband is greater than yours and has travelled through the fire to claim me, while yours bows down to mine.’
“Gudrún blanched, then reddened. The Niflung princess swam back toward shore. But Brynhild wasn’t done with her yet. She dove under the water and covered the distance quickly, coming back up beside Gudrún. ‘It seems you are not much of a swimmer without that amulet, are you?’
“‘What do you want to hear, Brynhild?’ Gudrún asked, now able to put her feet down and wade toward shore.
“‘Admit you are less than me,’ Brynhild said, and Gudrún scoffed at that. ‘Why not? Your precious husband was practically a thrall to King Hjalprek of Arus, and now even Hjalprek has sworn loyalty to Gunnar.’ The other princess spun on her. Her slap was clumsy and slow, even considering the water. Brynhild caught her arm and twisted it around behind her back. ‘Have you the least idea of the evil your mother has wrought?’ The words left Brynhild’s mouth ere she realised she meant to speak them.
“‘Hold your Hel-damned tongue!’ Gudrún snapped, then grunted as Brynhild pulled harder on her arm.
“‘Why? Ashamed for poor Sigurd, a thrall to better kings?’ Brynhild cooed the words into the woman’s ear. Part of her longed to take it all back, but it was as if a dam had burst inside her and she could not forestall the words. They rushed from her in a torrent, the venom that had so long choked her now grown beyond her ability to stomach. ‘He does not seem so very great to me, little princess.’
“‘Bitter to have lost your first love?’ Gudrún snarled.
“Brynhild released Gudrún of a sudden and the Niflung stumbled underwater ere coming up, backing away. She knew. Gudrún knew all along, whilst pretending to be Brynhild’s friend?
“Gudrún rubbed her arm while continuing to back up till she stood on the beach, shivering. She stormed toward her dress and knelt, grabbing something from a pouch. ‘Sigurd slew the linnorm Fáfnir. Sigurd passed through flames, you wretched bitch. You thought it was my brother? Your precious Sigurd came to you in Hlymdalir, though you thought it was Gunnar.’
“‘No.’ Brynhild stomped toward her, but the waters slowed her steps. What the Niflung said was impossible. Cruel as Urd had proven, even so, she could not believe such a thing. ‘No.’
“‘I’ve oft wondered just how he fucked you that day.’ Gudrún held up a rose gold band between her fingers. The ring Brynhild had tossed to Gunnar. How did Gudrún have it …? Brynhild froze, waist deep in the water, gaping at the ring. Gudrún knew everything. And Gunnar—no, Sigurd—had given her the ring. Somehow, he had changed shapes with Gunnar. And he had done this to her. Betrayed her, utterly.
“They knew.
“Everyone knew.
“Even Sigurd knew what he’d done to her. Lain with her under false pretences. Delivered her to the bed of a man he knew she had no desire to marry.
“Brynhild sank down to her knees, the water suddenly up to her neck, splashing her face with each passing wave, though she hardly noticed. Dimly, she watched as Gudrún dressed. The princess dropped the rose gold ring on the sand, then fled, afraid of Brynhild’s wrath, perhaps. But Brynhild couldn’t summon wrath anymore. Just a horrible, soul-devouring numbness. That despondency that arises in response to the bitterest of betrayals.
“Gudrún and Sigurd both had slipped knives betwixt Brynhild’s ribs. And all she could do was bleed out.”