[Supernatural][R][Liminality] Dawn
Full notes on the Masterpost
Note: also on AO3 and ff.net
Warnings: Character death, depictions of violence
Word count: 4,795
Summary: This is the beginning of a new day. Gabriel once again seeks solace in the Clepsydre while Kára is already engaged in battle. Nothing unusual for them.
Disclaimer: Everything that's not angel is mine, the rest obviously isn't.
“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech.”
― Charles H. Spurgeon
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With a graceful barrel, Gabriel dodged a lightning bolt. It only grazed him, making his feathers ruffled. A second one came soon after, hitting an image of him, that crashed into the ground with a dramatic flash when it vanished into the air. No damage whatsoever since that one had been a mere clone, but he still let his annoyance and anger echo through the link tying every member of the Host to each other.
If Raphael as well as some lesser angels sent him words of sorriness and support, Michael and Lucifer payed no mind to him. No surprise here,but it was still as infuriating as in the beginning. Obviously, that was without mentioning the insufferable racket their constant arguments made in everyone’s heads; Raphael and himself much more victims than anyone else as they could hear more thoughts than the others. Nor their destructive behavior each time their Dad wasn’t home-that happened more and more frequently-like both of them conveniently forgot how to be civilized. One day, He would be back to a field of nothingness because the two idiots wouldn’t have been able to control their temper.
The archangel let out a relieved sigh when a lightning bolt dissolved far above him, before it became a threat. The sky was gradually becoming clearer as the Astrolabe came into perception. Gabriel let himself rise, then stretched out his wings to plane over the silvery waters it was constructed on, taking a childish glee on letting the tip of his feathers brushing the liquid to make trails in his wake, while disrupting the dragonflies buzzing on the surface, and the fishes just under.
The site consisted of nine circles-tympans-of stepped pyramids. The mater, the largest tympan by far with its many buildings circled the eight others, whose size decreased each time, until the inner circle that was composed of only four pyramids, the highest ones, each placed at a cardinal direction. A multitude of walkways and bridges linked the different buildings, creating a complex but beautiful heap of iridescent tunnels of glass as angels came and left in an endless stream, their wings like shifting little color balls from the distance.
Since it was the center of Heaven and stood just under the Garden, it was so bathed in their Dad’s power that even his idiot brothers’ petty fights couldn’t scratch it. Their attacks would only disperse in the air if they fell in a certain perimeter around the Astrolabe. Which were very fortunate, because it was the most important place in Heaven, where the Host’s whole infrastructures were situated, from the halls were the cherubs hatched, to their own offices. Without that, Heaven wouldn’t be able to function at all. Also, it had became a haven for those who weren’t willing to take part in the oldest children of God’s little war-games. People like him.
Or people who were pretty serious about their duty, Gabriel thought as he flew straight to the inner tympan. He landed on the top of the obelisk built in its middle, its foundations buried in the water. From here, he could admire the waterfalls falling from Eden, above, like a shimmering veil around the Astrolabe.
You’re back.
Like always, Ezekiel’s deep voice found its way into his mind, stronger than the rest of the Host. His mate greeted him with a brief caress of his wings as he came next to Gabriel, but far enough to not be touching him.Gabriel refrained himself from orderingthe seraph to scout closer; he wasn’t bratty enough to use his authority to order such a thing from his mate. Moreover when he was very aware of Ezekiel’s effort to do the wing-touching salute, as the angel never had been one for public display of affection. A thing his brothers-as mostly Lucifer-would often tease him with, like being mated to an archangel was something worth bragging except if it was to Gabriel.
How did it go?
Good. I like the kid, he’s like a little ball of sunshine. And pretty perceptive also, he saw right at the moment what I wanted. In fact, the child had been much more smarter than what he had thought. Incredibly witty and a little too audacious for someone in front of an archangel, not that he knew what an angel was to begin with. That had greatly amused Gabriel. Authorized me to use his appearance though, kind of dared me in fact.
You didn’t have to ask him, the seraph replied back, his words filled with a perplexed curiosity. Gabriel let his mate touch his mind. As usual, Ezekiel was nothing but cautious and delicacy, trying not to overstep any boundaries the archangel could have had, even when the later never ceased to tell him how he wasn’t against any little mental nudging from him. To which, Ezekiel stiffened in an awfully comical manner before smacking him like he was a disobedient cherub. That time, the seraph stood still for a while, sorting what he had seen. Then, he tilted his head on the side. You still do not wish to be like your brothers.
Did you meet them? Gabriel said in a petulant, but joking tone, while pointing to the sky with the tip of his superior wings.
It hadn’t a single definite hue, more like an entire palette of ever-changing colors that swirled, sometimes forming big cotton-like clouds. They were stars sprayed in it, like a fine layer of glitters. Lighting illuminated it, resonating with his brothers’ words as they were arguing.
Not a great example to follow, don’t you think? Gabriel added with a dry chuckle. If I can, I prefer to have the consent of the ones I’ll be masquerading as. Will you come with me this time?
I have duties to take care of, brother. He already had interrupted them to see the archangel.Even though he didn’t voice it, the slight reproach in his tone was clear.
At least come with me in the Clepsydre, Zeke. I won’t detain you more than that, Gabriel replied back, immediately willing them in front of the obelisk without waiting for his response, part of their inferior wings bathing in the water. There wouldn’t be anyone to complain if Ezekiel was with his archangel of a mate, anyway. Except the seraph himself, now scowling and wings flapping with annoyance under his touch, although he didn’t speak.
The doors closed after them when they entered the corridor leading to the core of the Clepsydre.The world suddenly became quiet. The voice of the Host went totally silent, making Gabriel’s wings flutter with relief. As often these times, the place was devoid of any presence, nobody really interested with watching the Earth from here when there was a civil war raging outside.
Truth to be told, the absence of his siblings was nothing less than appeasing; lately, except for his mate, he hadn’t found any solace in their presence. And certainly not with the other archangels, whom he avoided as much as possible.
The injury they had inflicted on his superior-left wing had been healed a long time ago, but the emotional trauma of the knowledge they could harm him still weighed on him. Much more than what he had like to admit. That day, something in how Gabriel perceived his brothers had changed.Neither Lucifer’s attentions nor Michael’s profuse apologizes could modify that. Not when Gabriel knew they could harm him by accident, which they already had.
His last and first experience had been particularly displeasing; he wasn’t keen on reliving it. It had so profoundly scarred him that-at totally random times-he would feel where a scathe had been, a sharp white pain like a tangible memory of the hole that had been there. The agony of feeling his flesh being vaporized into nothingness as the tissues were torn apart by the bolt. Knowing it was an illusion, a mere carnal reminiscence wasn’t of any help. If anything, it made things worse to think that he couldn’t move past the recollections.
Sensing his trouble, Ezekiel shifted next to him, spreading his four wings out in an invitation Gabriel would never refuse. He traced the clear crystal blue feathers,their fairer tips faintly glistening while dark veins ran through it, making them an exquisite blue monochrome. The archangel rejoiced in gently rubbing it until their watery texture took a more solid and rugged form around the edges, like pure and brut stones.
When he felt Ezekiel softening, Gabriel wrapped his own wings around them, pressing their bodies together, each finding solace in the other’s embrace. The ball of entangled limbs they formed slowly drifted in the middle sphere; the droplets of the silvery liquid in suspension in the air sliding on them, but never wetting the points they touched.
The Clepsydre was a unique spot in Heaven.Surely in the whole universe, Gabriel thought, staring at the polychrome lights of countless stars while Ezekiel was stroking the small messy feathers growing where his wings and body were connected. Even if its entrance was in the center of Heaven, the place itself stood somewhere in outer space, moving through it. The void beyond the glass was a comforting view in these agitated times, its relative stillness never ceasing to soothe him.
Take care of you, brother, Ezekiel said after a while, disengaging from their embrace. See you later, he added while fondling Gabriel’s wings.
They quivered in acknowledgement and gratitude, but the archangel made none movementswhatsoever when his mate departed. His attention was on the imposing throne in the center of the sphere, carved into a crystalline material reflecting the starlights, like a small sun illuminating its surrounding. Meanwhile he knew it would be empty -it was only a reflection of the one in the Garden anyway- he couldn’t help the stare at it, nor the flinch of his wings when he thought of His presence in the place, more glorious and kind than anything else. And four cherubs, the firsts of a whole kind, perched on the high armrests, bathing in His mightiness.
However, he soon turned away not to linger on the growing sensation of despair in him, gulping down the wail he knew he would have produced otherwise. He wasn’t here to dwell in his spleen, or weep for a past already accomplished and that couldn’t be changed. He wasn’t like his brothers, he wouldn’t let himself lament again and again over things like that.
Instead, the Gabriel grabbed one of the innumerable glass balls floating around. With a deference he rarely used these days, like the precious treasure it was, he delicately cupped it within his middle wings.After that, the archangel let his other wings wrap around him, keeping his body in a bright iridescent cocoon.
With care, Gabriel infused some of his grace in the transparent material, watching it dissolve with a cherubin mirthwhen the silvery liquid it contained expanded in the air, like it was stretching. For a little while, it moved in his feathers, slithering between them to finally form a sphere rotating on itself.
He leant over it, observing the images reflected on its surface. Eventually Gabriel went completely still, his consciousness far from Heaven, the Clepsydre and the fightings outside it.
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Men dropped like flies around them, the smell of fresh blood going heavier with each new death.The two valkyries stood back to back, slowly tracing circles, pushing back and killing their enemies with a facility they weren’t used to. Not that it was surprising coming from a band of novice brigands, pushing their luck a little too much. Kára suspected they were former farmers, with much more experience with a fork than any real weapons. Any trained warrior would have been able to defeat them. In a way, she felt a little disappointed they weren’t a challenge, not that she would admit that out loud ever.
Róta however, hadn’t such qualms, as she eventually said, “That’s really no fun.” That sure changed a lot from bunches vættir and their followers. “I actually feel bad for them. This isn’t rig-” Her friend was interrupting by the sharp sound of metal on metal. There was a loud scream then the thud of a fallen body. “They shouldn’t be out there in the wild. I wish we weren’t doing that right now. That’s not even a fight, look at them!”
“I know.” On that point at least, they agreed. Going around killing almost defenseless persons had a bitter taste. Still, seeing the circumstances, there weren’t other choices and, if needed, she would do it again anytime.
And Róta was aware of her position on that matter, which were the reason she lowered her voice, disapproval in her tone when she replied, “The draugar must have attacked their farm. This is not their fault and you can’t be so casually okay with that. That’s wrong, Kára.”
As sad as it was, that kind of story was beginning to happen frequently, no less than one attack per week. That was bound to happen because of the increasing number of draugar roaming out of their barrows. A number that would most likely only increase as time would go by: until now, its augmentation had been steady and she couldn’t see why that would stop anytime soon.Amongst the sorrowful consequences were many farmers leaving their lands, some of them becoming mere outlaws. Thus, the roads weren’t as safe as they should have been. The fact they had lost far too many men in a too short timespan was the most jarring thing.
“Their actual way of life, the path they’ve chosen to walk on, is their own choice.” Kára couldn’t help the frown on her face while she continued, “Coming to Thorhöll and seeking help from Reifr would have been the right thing to do. He would have given them new lands, and send us.”
The leather of her gauntlet scrunched when she tightened her fists around her spear. She wished the bandits would be more reckless to work out some of her frustration on them. They had been in the beginning, charging at them without any formation, their number greatly reduced by the chaos that had followed. The seven left were far more cautious now, not approaching the five feet area her spear could cover and eyeing warily at Róta’s axe.
At the moment, they were only observing them, and she caught one looking at the edge of the trees, surely searching for an escape path. Or not, she thought when she saw the high figure emerging from the woods, a broad man made of nothing but muscles, only a fur cloak over his barren chest. He had a giant axe that seemed to weigh nothing in his large hands. He was coming to them at a fast pace, and seeing how the former farmers stepped back to clear him a path, he was no friend.
“Their demise is the consequence of their choices, the responsibilities they have to assume.”
The words came out of her mouth without her even thinking about it. Between them, similar discussions had happened a few times already.The sudden multiplication of the draugar’s number through the clanhold had brought misery to the land and it was inevitable thatcertain people dealt with it by turning to despicable ways of life, as dangerous for the other clansmen as monsters. While Róta naturally sympathized with their loss and sufferings, would be more inclined to spare them if possible; in Kára’s mind,they were to be treated as nothing else than outlaws and dealt with as such. As protectors of the hold, it was their duty.
“They’re outlaws attacking innocent people. No better than pests or harmful vættir, and have to be treated as such.”
Snow splashed everywhere as the valkyries rolled on the soft ground, out of the giant axe trajectory. Because of the recoil, the bigman staggered back, thrown out of balance by the force of his swing. His guard was left wide open when he tried to regain his position. It was all Kára needed to launch a blow to his stomach. She turned her spear in his bowels until it impaled him, its head coming out of his back.
She didn’t linger on his stunned expression when he fell to the ground, not quite dead yet. Her next adversary was already at her, sword held high to strike, screaming to give himself courage. The hit, clumsy and weak, bounced on her shield. When he stepped back, his heavy pantingand hand on his side like he had a stitch. It was clear his little assault had weakened him much more than it would, have had he been a warrior. That was a shame he wasn’t: she liked his boldness and would have appreciated having a real battle against that kind of foe.
When she released her spear to fall back into a more practical position, she swore loudly. Despite his tall height and bulky size, filling every bit of his worn tunic, he was only a boy with a round face full of freckles, not much older than twelve winters. Young enough to still be playing with wooden toys and hide-and-seek with his friends in the woods, when he wasn’t helping his parents or with his master.
“What’s your name, boy?” she asked as she unsheathed her sæx, appreciating its familiar weight in her hand.
“Uh! You’re gonna kill me anyway!” he spat with the harsher accent most peasants had. Even if he was staring at her with eyes full with defiance,his limbs were trembling. His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down.
“Kára daughter of Heimkell of the clan Himinsfall.” She put her right hand over her chest in the formal valkyrian salute, fingers brushing her left spaulder, where her crest lied. “Chosen by the Allfather to select and guide to Asgard those I see fit.”
“A valkyrie!” he gasped. For one instant, awe animated him, his expression were nothing but childish wonder. Then, it was gone and he pouted, his grip tighter on his sword’s hilt. The valkyrie couldn’t help but finding it kind of cute, reminding her of another boy. She mentally smiled when he pursued,“You can’t be! That can’t be… That’s impossible!”
“At my hand,” Kára said like he hadn’t spoke. “You’ll meet an end of honor, worthy of the warrior you could have grown up to be in other circumstances. My prayers shall guide your soul to Valhalla, where it will rest. Now, boy, give me your name.”
Her tone was firmer that time, almost parental. That made him even more nervous and he nibbled on his lower lip, as if uncertain of what to do. In contrast to that, his grasp on his weapon grew a little more secure. He opened his mouth a few time, about to speak but backed off. He eventually shook his head.
“You lie, woman! Uh! D’you think I’m gonna believe I’m, me the simple farmer boy, chosen to go the Allfather? You’re stu-”
He stopped right in his tracks when Kára shushed him with a hand gesture. She rolled her eyes, nevertheless spoke a softer, “I’m not an adept of blasphemy.Trust me, I’m not a fool, I would never try to imprecate such a holy title by usurping it. The Allfather is kind neither with usurpation nor deception.”
There was a small silence before he sighed. “Gunngeirr son of Gunnólfr. There.” With the tip of his sword, he showed the big man her lance was in, his face growing dim and eyes watery. He looked down and his voice was shaking when he continued, “That’s my pop right there. These things, you know, they… By the Allfather, it was so horrible! Mom and Frida, my lil sis. And my big bro too.” He lifted his head, looking at her with clear eyes, sniffling a few time. “Will you hunt them?”
Kára inclined her head, putting her sæx’s hilt on her heart as she answered with gravity, “I am a protector of Himinsfall. It’s my duty to hunt whose menacing the hold.” Then, she readied herself for combat. “Now, Gunngeirr Gunnólfson, prepare to die.”
When Gunngeirr rose his weapons, he bit his lip and drew blood, as if it would stop his body’s quivering. Kára could see the sweat pearling on his brow and the flare of his nostrils. His fear seemed almost tangible, within range if she stretched a hand to touch it. But his stare itself, was unwavering, sharp and determined.
Kára took a deep breath. Her sæx pierced his heart before the boy had the time to move. The prayer he was reciting died on his lips as he toppled over the valkyrie. Maintaining him against her with one hand, she pushed her sword out of him, then swept it on his tunic before sheathing it. Then, she crouched squatted down, putting his head on her knees. She removed her right gauntlet to soak their tips of her index and middle finger with Gungeirr’s blood.
First, she closed his eyelids, sighing with relief not to have him stare at her with lifeless eyes anymore. Then she was tracing runes on his face, bright red lines faintly glistening on his tanned skin. Finally, she put a thumb on his lips, dry and creaky, and chanted the galdr to send him to the Allfather.
When she finally felt the soul departing the body, the valkyrie bowed low, addressing prayers and praises to the Allfather.
“This is also what I call wrong, Kára.” The sudden hand on her shoulder startled Kára, but she relaxed when recognizing Róta’s sweet voice. “Do you really think the boy had a choice in the path his father had chosen, when he was his only family left? The children shouldn’t have to suffer for the mistakes of their parents. How many of them have we killed already?”
There was nothing Kára could answer to that. They couldn’t let these children live, for the danger they represented in the long term. Still, she had never been a monster, and she also was a mother. The duty of the valkyries shouldn’t have included the demise of mere children, whose cause of death was nothing more than misfortune.
She washed her fingers with snow and stood up in silence.A look around informed her that Róta had already disposed of the other men. She felt a little bad she had let Róta do most of the work.Her friend brushed her apologies with a smile.
“Let’s go. It’s only the beginning of the day and we have Febœr to visit and, without a doubt, a long road full of surprises ahead.”
Kára nodded while putting her gauntlet back on her glove.When Arnulfr had caught the trails left by the bandits, they had been on their way to the Febœr farm, where draugar had last been spotted. Róta had statued the criminals had to be dealtwith before they resumed their current hunt.Right now, the veidimadr was waiting for them at the little pond where their group had halted, keeping their mounts and thralls safe. They couldn’t stay here longer than necessary.
The dead would have to wait, she thought as she withdrew her spear from the boy’s father’s belly. She cleaned the body fluids with a chunk of his tunic, averting her eyes from Gunngeirr, only a few feet away, like that would push the younger’s face in the back of her mind, where she wouldn’t be able to see it.
Although she recited galdrar and ancient poems to distract herself from the thoughts, it failed. Vivid hazel irises werestaring at her with this awe most children felt for their parents during their youth. Gunngeirr had Aldi’s eyes, messy flaxen blond curls that stuck everywhere, and freckles also, albeit Aldi -like his father- only had his cheekbones and nose covered with it whereas Gungeirr’s whole face was spread with it.
Truth to be told, it was the sole features they shared: Gunngeirr was taller than Aldi, rude work making him much more muscular, with a skin tanned by hour spent outside while Aldi had been a small child with soft curves and a pale skin tone. Still, Kára couldn’t help drawing a parallel between the two boys: their dea-
She shook her head: thinking about it wouldn’t do any good. She had to stop before dwelling into parts of her spirit she didn’t want to see.
“When was the last time you sent someone to Valhalla?” Kára finally let the questions slip out of her lips, kind of wishing that speaking about anything would help her to concentrate on something else.
Róta, who was walking a little ahead of her, stopped right in her tracks. Branches cracked under her feet when she turned back to watch her with undecipherable light brown eyes, her expression far more grave than usual. For moments, she seemed so lost in her thoughts that nothing could have troubled her; not that Kára would have done anything to do so. She wouldn’t even dare moving, as if the tiniest movement would disturb her friend. Now, she began to feel bad about that. On the top of that, Aldi’s face superposed on Gunngeirr’s wouldn’t vanish from her mind.
“A very long time.” Róta swallowed a few time, beginning sentences only to stop in the middle of it, and then shaking her head like words escaped her grasp. Kára’s fingers twitched at each try and she fisted them, wondering if she should stop her companion.
“The Battle of Loptbord,” Róta eventually said, her jaw clenched and face grim. “I’ve never sent a single soul to the Allfather since then.” She made a long pause, a hand touching the dark brown cormorant feathers decorating the long braid on the side of her face. “The number of souls the valkyries sent to the Allfather… I really hope no valkyrie will have to do such a thing in the future.”
She grimaced, looking away for an instant before looking into Kára’s eyes, caramel-coloured irises full with gravity when she continued, “Since then, the warriors I met and defeated never seemed valorous enough for me to guide them to Valhalla. Sometimes, I even catch myself thinking that almost no one deserves that honor anymore.” Her hand fall back on her side and she made a little smile. “Fortunately for me, the Allfather hasn’t yet expressed any discontentment with me. But I think that might be because Ölrún, Skuld and you are doing a very good job at sending beautiful souls to Him.”
Her smile widened and even if there were no wrinkles in the corner of her eyes, it made Kára feel better. When the older woman winked at her, she rolled her eyes in a fake annoyance.
“Anyway, I’m sure that boy will find solace at His side. You did the right thing, Kára, don’t worry about it,” Róta said, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
Kára didn’t answer, but she nodded. She stepped back from the physical contact that felt a little bit too heavy; it wasn’t about Gunngeirr she worried after all for she knew she had done the right thing. She had only brought the subject to think of anything that wasn’t Aldi, reminding her friend of awful memories and that made her feel guilty.
“We shouldn’t make the others wait more,” she eventually said, uneasy under the other’s steady gaze, as if she knew her response hadn’t given solace to Kára at all. Said woman masked her unease by brushing a red curl off her face as she resumed walking.
When they reached the pond not long after, Kára was relieved to see that everyone was there, safe and sound. The horses were gathered next to a patch of tall grasses half-covered with snow, munching on it happily. Adalrikr and the thralls’ noisy chatter greeted them as they approached, while Arnulfr nodded at them, already mounting back on his grey horse.
Kára went straight to Logior,patting the stallion on his neck before getting on his saddle. He snorted with annoyance when she ordered him away from the bushes he had been chewing on, splattering around more snow than necessary and making the horses next to him whine. That made her chuckle lightly.
As the group left the pond a few moments later, in the corner of her eyes, she caught hazel-eyed and curly blond-haired children watching her intently. She turned away, her fists tight around the reins, wishing her mind would stop playing cruel tricks on her.
Note: also on AO3 and ff.net
Warnings: Character death, depictions of violence
Word count: 4,795
Summary: This is the beginning of a new day. Gabriel once again seeks solace in the Clepsydre while Kára is already engaged in battle. Nothing unusual for them.
Disclaimer: Everything that's not angel is mine, the rest obviously isn't.
“There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech.”
― Charles H. Spurgeon
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With a graceful barrel, Gabriel dodged a lightning bolt. It only grazed him, making his feathers ruffled. A second one came soon after, hitting an image of him, that crashed into the ground with a dramatic flash when it vanished into the air. No damage whatsoever since that one had been a mere clone, but he still let his annoyance and anger echo through the link tying every member of the Host to each other.
If Raphael as well as some lesser angels sent him words of sorriness and support, Michael and Lucifer payed no mind to him. No surprise here,but it was still as infuriating as in the beginning. Obviously, that was without mentioning the insufferable racket their constant arguments made in everyone’s heads; Raphael and himself much more victims than anyone else as they could hear more thoughts than the others. Nor their destructive behavior each time their Dad wasn’t home-that happened more and more frequently-like both of them conveniently forgot how to be civilized. One day, He would be back to a field of nothingness because the two idiots wouldn’t have been able to control their temper.
The archangel let out a relieved sigh when a lightning bolt dissolved far above him, before it became a threat. The sky was gradually becoming clearer as the Astrolabe came into perception. Gabriel let himself rise, then stretched out his wings to plane over the silvery waters it was constructed on, taking a childish glee on letting the tip of his feathers brushing the liquid to make trails in his wake, while disrupting the dragonflies buzzing on the surface, and the fishes just under.
The site consisted of nine circles-tympans-of stepped pyramids. The mater, the largest tympan by far with its many buildings circled the eight others, whose size decreased each time, until the inner circle that was composed of only four pyramids, the highest ones, each placed at a cardinal direction. A multitude of walkways and bridges linked the different buildings, creating a complex but beautiful heap of iridescent tunnels of glass as angels came and left in an endless stream, their wings like shifting little color balls from the distance.
Since it was the center of Heaven and stood just under the Garden, it was so bathed in their Dad’s power that even his idiot brothers’ petty fights couldn’t scratch it. Their attacks would only disperse in the air if they fell in a certain perimeter around the Astrolabe. Which were very fortunate, because it was the most important place in Heaven, where the Host’s whole infrastructures were situated, from the halls were the cherubs hatched, to their own offices. Without that, Heaven wouldn’t be able to function at all. Also, it had became a haven for those who weren’t willing to take part in the oldest children of God’s little war-games. People like him.
Or people who were pretty serious about their duty, Gabriel thought as he flew straight to the inner tympan. He landed on the top of the obelisk built in its middle, its foundations buried in the water. From here, he could admire the waterfalls falling from Eden, above, like a shimmering veil around the Astrolabe.
You’re back.
Like always, Ezekiel’s deep voice found its way into his mind, stronger than the rest of the Host. His mate greeted him with a brief caress of his wings as he came next to Gabriel, but far enough to not be touching him.Gabriel refrained himself from orderingthe seraph to scout closer; he wasn’t bratty enough to use his authority to order such a thing from his mate. Moreover when he was very aware of Ezekiel’s effort to do the wing-touching salute, as the angel never had been one for public display of affection. A thing his brothers-as mostly Lucifer-would often tease him with, like being mated to an archangel was something worth bragging except if it was to Gabriel.
How did it go?
Good. I like the kid, he’s like a little ball of sunshine. And pretty perceptive also, he saw right at the moment what I wanted. In fact, the child had been much more smarter than what he had thought. Incredibly witty and a little too audacious for someone in front of an archangel, not that he knew what an angel was to begin with. That had greatly amused Gabriel. Authorized me to use his appearance though, kind of dared me in fact.
You didn’t have to ask him, the seraph replied back, his words filled with a perplexed curiosity. Gabriel let his mate touch his mind. As usual, Ezekiel was nothing but cautious and delicacy, trying not to overstep any boundaries the archangel could have had, even when the later never ceased to tell him how he wasn’t against any little mental nudging from him. To which, Ezekiel stiffened in an awfully comical manner before smacking him like he was a disobedient cherub. That time, the seraph stood still for a while, sorting what he had seen. Then, he tilted his head on the side. You still do not wish to be like your brothers.
Did you meet them? Gabriel said in a petulant, but joking tone, while pointing to the sky with the tip of his superior wings.
It hadn’t a single definite hue, more like an entire palette of ever-changing colors that swirled, sometimes forming big cotton-like clouds. They were stars sprayed in it, like a fine layer of glitters. Lighting illuminated it, resonating with his brothers’ words as they were arguing.
Not a great example to follow, don’t you think? Gabriel added with a dry chuckle. If I can, I prefer to have the consent of the ones I’ll be masquerading as. Will you come with me this time?
I have duties to take care of, brother. He already had interrupted them to see the archangel.Even though he didn’t voice it, the slight reproach in his tone was clear.
At least come with me in the Clepsydre, Zeke. I won’t detain you more than that, Gabriel replied back, immediately willing them in front of the obelisk without waiting for his response, part of their inferior wings bathing in the water. There wouldn’t be anyone to complain if Ezekiel was with his archangel of a mate, anyway. Except the seraph himself, now scowling and wings flapping with annoyance under his touch, although he didn’t speak.
The doors closed after them when they entered the corridor leading to the core of the Clepsydre.The world suddenly became quiet. The voice of the Host went totally silent, making Gabriel’s wings flutter with relief. As often these times, the place was devoid of any presence, nobody really interested with watching the Earth from here when there was a civil war raging outside.
Truth to be told, the absence of his siblings was nothing less than appeasing; lately, except for his mate, he hadn’t found any solace in their presence. And certainly not with the other archangels, whom he avoided as much as possible.
The injury they had inflicted on his superior-left wing had been healed a long time ago, but the emotional trauma of the knowledge they could harm him still weighed on him. Much more than what he had like to admit. That day, something in how Gabriel perceived his brothers had changed.Neither Lucifer’s attentions nor Michael’s profuse apologizes could modify that. Not when Gabriel knew they could harm him by accident, which they already had.
His last and first experience had been particularly displeasing; he wasn’t keen on reliving it. It had so profoundly scarred him that-at totally random times-he would feel where a scathe had been, a sharp white pain like a tangible memory of the hole that had been there. The agony of feeling his flesh being vaporized into nothingness as the tissues were torn apart by the bolt. Knowing it was an illusion, a mere carnal reminiscence wasn’t of any help. If anything, it made things worse to think that he couldn’t move past the recollections.
Sensing his trouble, Ezekiel shifted next to him, spreading his four wings out in an invitation Gabriel would never refuse. He traced the clear crystal blue feathers,their fairer tips faintly glistening while dark veins ran through it, making them an exquisite blue monochrome. The archangel rejoiced in gently rubbing it until their watery texture took a more solid and rugged form around the edges, like pure and brut stones.
When he felt Ezekiel softening, Gabriel wrapped his own wings around them, pressing their bodies together, each finding solace in the other’s embrace. The ball of entangled limbs they formed slowly drifted in the middle sphere; the droplets of the silvery liquid in suspension in the air sliding on them, but never wetting the points they touched.
The Clepsydre was a unique spot in Heaven.Surely in the whole universe, Gabriel thought, staring at the polychrome lights of countless stars while Ezekiel was stroking the small messy feathers growing where his wings and body were connected. Even if its entrance was in the center of Heaven, the place itself stood somewhere in outer space, moving through it. The void beyond the glass was a comforting view in these agitated times, its relative stillness never ceasing to soothe him.
Take care of you, brother, Ezekiel said after a while, disengaging from their embrace. See you later, he added while fondling Gabriel’s wings.
They quivered in acknowledgement and gratitude, but the archangel made none movementswhatsoever when his mate departed. His attention was on the imposing throne in the center of the sphere, carved into a crystalline material reflecting the starlights, like a small sun illuminating its surrounding. Meanwhile he knew it would be empty -it was only a reflection of the one in the Garden anyway- he couldn’t help the stare at it, nor the flinch of his wings when he thought of His presence in the place, more glorious and kind than anything else. And four cherubs, the firsts of a whole kind, perched on the high armrests, bathing in His mightiness.
However, he soon turned away not to linger on the growing sensation of despair in him, gulping down the wail he knew he would have produced otherwise. He wasn’t here to dwell in his spleen, or weep for a past already accomplished and that couldn’t be changed. He wasn’t like his brothers, he wouldn’t let himself lament again and again over things like that.
Instead, the Gabriel grabbed one of the innumerable glass balls floating around. With a deference he rarely used these days, like the precious treasure it was, he delicately cupped it within his middle wings.After that, the archangel let his other wings wrap around him, keeping his body in a bright iridescent cocoon.
With care, Gabriel infused some of his grace in the transparent material, watching it dissolve with a cherubin mirthwhen the silvery liquid it contained expanded in the air, like it was stretching. For a little while, it moved in his feathers, slithering between them to finally form a sphere rotating on itself.
He leant over it, observing the images reflected on its surface. Eventually Gabriel went completely still, his consciousness far from Heaven, the Clepsydre and the fightings outside it.
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Men dropped like flies around them, the smell of fresh blood going heavier with each new death.The two valkyries stood back to back, slowly tracing circles, pushing back and killing their enemies with a facility they weren’t used to. Not that it was surprising coming from a band of novice brigands, pushing their luck a little too much. Kára suspected they were former farmers, with much more experience with a fork than any real weapons. Any trained warrior would have been able to defeat them. In a way, she felt a little disappointed they weren’t a challenge, not that she would admit that out loud ever.
Róta however, hadn’t such qualms, as she eventually said, “That’s really no fun.” That sure changed a lot from bunches vættir and their followers. “I actually feel bad for them. This isn’t rig-” Her friend was interrupting by the sharp sound of metal on metal. There was a loud scream then the thud of a fallen body. “They shouldn’t be out there in the wild. I wish we weren’t doing that right now. That’s not even a fight, look at them!”
“I know.” On that point at least, they agreed. Going around killing almost defenseless persons had a bitter taste. Still, seeing the circumstances, there weren’t other choices and, if needed, she would do it again anytime.
And Róta was aware of her position on that matter, which were the reason she lowered her voice, disapproval in her tone when she replied, “The draugar must have attacked their farm. This is not their fault and you can’t be so casually okay with that. That’s wrong, Kára.”
As sad as it was, that kind of story was beginning to happen frequently, no less than one attack per week. That was bound to happen because of the increasing number of draugar roaming out of their barrows. A number that would most likely only increase as time would go by: until now, its augmentation had been steady and she couldn’t see why that would stop anytime soon.Amongst the sorrowful consequences were many farmers leaving their lands, some of them becoming mere outlaws. Thus, the roads weren’t as safe as they should have been. The fact they had lost far too many men in a too short timespan was the most jarring thing.
“Their actual way of life, the path they’ve chosen to walk on, is their own choice.” Kára couldn’t help the frown on her face while she continued, “Coming to Thorhöll and seeking help from Reifr would have been the right thing to do. He would have given them new lands, and send us.”
The leather of her gauntlet scrunched when she tightened her fists around her spear. She wished the bandits would be more reckless to work out some of her frustration on them. They had been in the beginning, charging at them without any formation, their number greatly reduced by the chaos that had followed. The seven left were far more cautious now, not approaching the five feet area her spear could cover and eyeing warily at Róta’s axe.
At the moment, they were only observing them, and she caught one looking at the edge of the trees, surely searching for an escape path. Or not, she thought when she saw the high figure emerging from the woods, a broad man made of nothing but muscles, only a fur cloak over his barren chest. He had a giant axe that seemed to weigh nothing in his large hands. He was coming to them at a fast pace, and seeing how the former farmers stepped back to clear him a path, he was no friend.
“Their demise is the consequence of their choices, the responsibilities they have to assume.”
The words came out of her mouth without her even thinking about it. Between them, similar discussions had happened a few times already.The sudden multiplication of the draugar’s number through the clanhold had brought misery to the land and it was inevitable thatcertain people dealt with it by turning to despicable ways of life, as dangerous for the other clansmen as monsters. While Róta naturally sympathized with their loss and sufferings, would be more inclined to spare them if possible; in Kára’s mind,they were to be treated as nothing else than outlaws and dealt with as such. As protectors of the hold, it was their duty.
“They’re outlaws attacking innocent people. No better than pests or harmful vættir, and have to be treated as such.”
Snow splashed everywhere as the valkyries rolled on the soft ground, out of the giant axe trajectory. Because of the recoil, the bigman staggered back, thrown out of balance by the force of his swing. His guard was left wide open when he tried to regain his position. It was all Kára needed to launch a blow to his stomach. She turned her spear in his bowels until it impaled him, its head coming out of his back.
She didn’t linger on his stunned expression when he fell to the ground, not quite dead yet. Her next adversary was already at her, sword held high to strike, screaming to give himself courage. The hit, clumsy and weak, bounced on her shield. When he stepped back, his heavy pantingand hand on his side like he had a stitch. It was clear his little assault had weakened him much more than it would, have had he been a warrior. That was a shame he wasn’t: she liked his boldness and would have appreciated having a real battle against that kind of foe.
When she released her spear to fall back into a more practical position, she swore loudly. Despite his tall height and bulky size, filling every bit of his worn tunic, he was only a boy with a round face full of freckles, not much older than twelve winters. Young enough to still be playing with wooden toys and hide-and-seek with his friends in the woods, when he wasn’t helping his parents or with his master.
“What’s your name, boy?” she asked as she unsheathed her sæx, appreciating its familiar weight in her hand.
“Uh! You’re gonna kill me anyway!” he spat with the harsher accent most peasants had. Even if he was staring at her with eyes full with defiance,his limbs were trembling. His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down.
“Kára daughter of Heimkell of the clan Himinsfall.” She put her right hand over her chest in the formal valkyrian salute, fingers brushing her left spaulder, where her crest lied. “Chosen by the Allfather to select and guide to Asgard those I see fit.”
“A valkyrie!” he gasped. For one instant, awe animated him, his expression were nothing but childish wonder. Then, it was gone and he pouted, his grip tighter on his sword’s hilt. The valkyrie couldn’t help but finding it kind of cute, reminding her of another boy. She mentally smiled when he pursued,“You can’t be! That can’t be… That’s impossible!”
“At my hand,” Kára said like he hadn’t spoke. “You’ll meet an end of honor, worthy of the warrior you could have grown up to be in other circumstances. My prayers shall guide your soul to Valhalla, where it will rest. Now, boy, give me your name.”
Her tone was firmer that time, almost parental. That made him even more nervous and he nibbled on his lower lip, as if uncertain of what to do. In contrast to that, his grasp on his weapon grew a little more secure. He opened his mouth a few time, about to speak but backed off. He eventually shook his head.
“You lie, woman! Uh! D’you think I’m gonna believe I’m, me the simple farmer boy, chosen to go the Allfather? You’re stu-”
He stopped right in his tracks when Kára shushed him with a hand gesture. She rolled her eyes, nevertheless spoke a softer, “I’m not an adept of blasphemy.Trust me, I’m not a fool, I would never try to imprecate such a holy title by usurping it. The Allfather is kind neither with usurpation nor deception.”
There was a small silence before he sighed. “Gunngeirr son of Gunnólfr. There.” With the tip of his sword, he showed the big man her lance was in, his face growing dim and eyes watery. He looked down and his voice was shaking when he continued, “That’s my pop right there. These things, you know, they… By the Allfather, it was so horrible! Mom and Frida, my lil sis. And my big bro too.” He lifted his head, looking at her with clear eyes, sniffling a few time. “Will you hunt them?”
Kára inclined her head, putting her sæx’s hilt on her heart as she answered with gravity, “I am a protector of Himinsfall. It’s my duty to hunt whose menacing the hold.” Then, she readied herself for combat. “Now, Gunngeirr Gunnólfson, prepare to die.”
When Gunngeirr rose his weapons, he bit his lip and drew blood, as if it would stop his body’s quivering. Kára could see the sweat pearling on his brow and the flare of his nostrils. His fear seemed almost tangible, within range if she stretched a hand to touch it. But his stare itself, was unwavering, sharp and determined.
Kára took a deep breath. Her sæx pierced his heart before the boy had the time to move. The prayer he was reciting died on his lips as he toppled over the valkyrie. Maintaining him against her with one hand, she pushed her sword out of him, then swept it on his tunic before sheathing it. Then, she crouched squatted down, putting his head on her knees. She removed her right gauntlet to soak their tips of her index and middle finger with Gungeirr’s blood.
First, she closed his eyelids, sighing with relief not to have him stare at her with lifeless eyes anymore. Then she was tracing runes on his face, bright red lines faintly glistening on his tanned skin. Finally, she put a thumb on his lips, dry and creaky, and chanted the galdr to send him to the Allfather.
When she finally felt the soul departing the body, the valkyrie bowed low, addressing prayers and praises to the Allfather.
“This is also what I call wrong, Kára.” The sudden hand on her shoulder startled Kára, but she relaxed when recognizing Róta’s sweet voice. “Do you really think the boy had a choice in the path his father had chosen, when he was his only family left? The children shouldn’t have to suffer for the mistakes of their parents. How many of them have we killed already?”
There was nothing Kára could answer to that. They couldn’t let these children live, for the danger they represented in the long term. Still, she had never been a monster, and she also was a mother. The duty of the valkyries shouldn’t have included the demise of mere children, whose cause of death was nothing more than misfortune.
She washed her fingers with snow and stood up in silence.A look around informed her that Róta had already disposed of the other men. She felt a little bad she had let Róta do most of the work.Her friend brushed her apologies with a smile.
“Let’s go. It’s only the beginning of the day and we have Febœr to visit and, without a doubt, a long road full of surprises ahead.”
Kára nodded while putting her gauntlet back on her glove.When Arnulfr had caught the trails left by the bandits, they had been on their way to the Febœr farm, where draugar had last been spotted. Róta had statued the criminals had to be dealtwith before they resumed their current hunt.Right now, the veidimadr was waiting for them at the little pond where their group had halted, keeping their mounts and thralls safe. They couldn’t stay here longer than necessary.
The dead would have to wait, she thought as she withdrew her spear from the boy’s father’s belly. She cleaned the body fluids with a chunk of his tunic, averting her eyes from Gunngeirr, only a few feet away, like that would push the younger’s face in the back of her mind, where she wouldn’t be able to see it.
Although she recited galdrar and ancient poems to distract herself from the thoughts, it failed. Vivid hazel irises werestaring at her with this awe most children felt for their parents during their youth. Gunngeirr had Aldi’s eyes, messy flaxen blond curls that stuck everywhere, and freckles also, albeit Aldi -like his father- only had his cheekbones and nose covered with it whereas Gungeirr’s whole face was spread with it.
Truth to be told, it was the sole features they shared: Gunngeirr was taller than Aldi, rude work making him much more muscular, with a skin tanned by hour spent outside while Aldi had been a small child with soft curves and a pale skin tone. Still, Kára couldn’t help drawing a parallel between the two boys: their dea-
She shook her head: thinking about it wouldn’t do any good. She had to stop before dwelling into parts of her spirit she didn’t want to see.
“When was the last time you sent someone to Valhalla?” Kára finally let the questions slip out of her lips, kind of wishing that speaking about anything would help her to concentrate on something else.
Róta, who was walking a little ahead of her, stopped right in her tracks. Branches cracked under her feet when she turned back to watch her with undecipherable light brown eyes, her expression far more grave than usual. For moments, she seemed so lost in her thoughts that nothing could have troubled her; not that Kára would have done anything to do so. She wouldn’t even dare moving, as if the tiniest movement would disturb her friend. Now, she began to feel bad about that. On the top of that, Aldi’s face superposed on Gunngeirr’s wouldn’t vanish from her mind.
“A very long time.” Róta swallowed a few time, beginning sentences only to stop in the middle of it, and then shaking her head like words escaped her grasp. Kára’s fingers twitched at each try and she fisted them, wondering if she should stop her companion.
“The Battle of Loptbord,” Róta eventually said, her jaw clenched and face grim. “I’ve never sent a single soul to the Allfather since then.” She made a long pause, a hand touching the dark brown cormorant feathers decorating the long braid on the side of her face. “The number of souls the valkyries sent to the Allfather… I really hope no valkyrie will have to do such a thing in the future.”
She grimaced, looking away for an instant before looking into Kára’s eyes, caramel-coloured irises full with gravity when she continued, “Since then, the warriors I met and defeated never seemed valorous enough for me to guide them to Valhalla. Sometimes, I even catch myself thinking that almost no one deserves that honor anymore.” Her hand fall back on her side and she made a little smile. “Fortunately for me, the Allfather hasn’t yet expressed any discontentment with me. But I think that might be because Ölrún, Skuld and you are doing a very good job at sending beautiful souls to Him.”
Her smile widened and even if there were no wrinkles in the corner of her eyes, it made Kára feel better. When the older woman winked at her, she rolled her eyes in a fake annoyance.
“Anyway, I’m sure that boy will find solace at His side. You did the right thing, Kára, don’t worry about it,” Róta said, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder.
Kára didn’t answer, but she nodded. She stepped back from the physical contact that felt a little bit too heavy; it wasn’t about Gunngeirr she worried after all for she knew she had done the right thing. She had only brought the subject to think of anything that wasn’t Aldi, reminding her friend of awful memories and that made her feel guilty.
“We shouldn’t make the others wait more,” she eventually said, uneasy under the other’s steady gaze, as if she knew her response hadn’t given solace to Kára at all. Said woman masked her unease by brushing a red curl off her face as she resumed walking.
When they reached the pond not long after, Kára was relieved to see that everyone was there, safe and sound. The horses were gathered next to a patch of tall grasses half-covered with snow, munching on it happily. Adalrikr and the thralls’ noisy chatter greeted them as they approached, while Arnulfr nodded at them, already mounting back on his grey horse.
Kára went straight to Logior,patting the stallion on his neck before getting on his saddle. He snorted with annoyance when she ordered him away from the bushes he had been chewing on, splattering around more snow than necessary and making the horses next to him whine. That made her chuckle lightly.
As the group left the pond a few moments later, in the corner of her eyes, she caught hazel-eyed and curly blond-haired children watching her intently. She turned away, her fists tight around the reins, wishing her mind would stop playing cruel tricks on her.