Back to Part Two
"The coward believes he will live forever
If he holds back in the battle,
But in old age he shall have no peace
Though spears have spared his limbs."
(Havamal Verses, #16, 13th century)
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Pale skin of northerner, stretched tighter in unlife than ever during the cold winters. She lay, unfeeling, across the stone outcropping. Sword in useless hand, unprotected but not molested by Kine either. Her skin glaring white in the darkness as day moved forward and night swept closer to her resting place. Child, mother, warrior. No breath passed her lips, cold as stone they were. No beating of a heart, blacked by death her hand had brought.
Valkyrie in death. No flutter of eyelash on that ivory cheek. The eyes opened sharply, her movement economical. Holding nothing within the bright orbs. Warmth in fingertips that traced the brow, hands upon waking flesh. Tracing bone and raised lines of skin, moist from dew and clammy. They withdrew and she sat up slowly.
"You awaken to me, Childe. As before." Her pale gaze moved across the cavern. "Speak soft for the sun is still high and there are brethren about on the shore."
No expression stained her features, "Sire. What is it that you wish of me? How is it that you are here with me?" Ice and darkness, brought by the hand of Aurik.
"It is willed by those we cannot name. It is unimportant. There is work for you elsewhere, Daughter of Odin. Leave this place. It is not for you. The mortal links are decayed. Cut them before they grow too poisonous." The slight form of her Sire moved across the cave, towards the sea. "Remember me Childe. I never led you to danger."
"No, you did not. You only killed me." He was gone again, the winds howling about the entrance to the rocky womb.
She woke.