Valkyrie Slumbering by L. VanHorn Read Free Book Online

Though he remained my father’s friend throughout my childhood, he never accepted my mother.” I pause, forcing down the lump that has risen in my throat.
    “One night he showed up on our doorstep, reeking of ale. He forced his way in, attacked my mother. Together she and I overcame him, made him leave.” The words catch in my throat. After all these years, it’s still almost too painful to speak of.
    With a touch of the reins, Grím guides his horse closer and reaches over to take my hand. The callused feel of his palm against mine lends me strength.
    “When my father came home and heard what happened, he went out after Steinn. He found him and his friends trying to rape a woman. He stopped them, killed all but Steinn and another, but he was mortally wounded. By the time he stumbled home, he had lost too much blood. He died the next morning,” I finish with a shuddering breath.
    Grím squeezes my hand. “And ye’ve been huntin’ him since,” he says.
    I look down at my horse’s neck and untangle my fingers from her mane. “No. I was only fourteen. I took up the sword and learned to fight, then four years later, I began hunting him. I’ve been on his trail for two years now.”
    Two very long years. My eyes are drawn to the horizon where dark clouds are spilling over to fill the sky. We’re headed straight for a storm. The irony is not lost on me.
    “Do ye think it could be the same man?” Grím asks.
    “How could it not? The motive is the same and our island is not all that big,” I say. I would know. By a combination of sailing and trekking, I’ve been around and across the land twice over in two years’ time.
    In the distance, thunder sounds. The mare’s head perks up and her back grows tense. Clouds have spilled out across the entire horizon now and have spread out to each side of us. Blades of sunlight pierce through here and there in an attempt to reclaim the sky, but it is a losing battle. The clean scent of rain weighs down the air.
    Eyes on the sky, I wait, but no lightning follows. Not good.
    “Looks as though we better find shelter soon,” Grím says.
    I point to our left where tall hills rise out of the landscape. “Shall we ride for those hills?”
    Taking up the reins and straightening in the saddle, Grím nods. With a squeeze of my legs, I urge the mare into a canter. Grím’s stallion squeals as he rears, then plunges ahead of us. The sky darkens with each hoof beat, the clouds swallowing sunbeam after sunbeam as they race toward us. Fat drops of rain splatter on the back of my hands. It seems foolish to run toward the storm but we have little choice. Nothing but open fields of green stretch out everywhere else.
    Thunder booms, rolling across the sky, increasing in volume as it comes. Only a hoof beat later it sounds again, louder, closer. At the third boom, my mare squeals and thrusts her neck into the wind as she speeds up. Horses abreast, Grím and I charge into the gray sheet of rain that separates us from the hills.
    In moments, I’m soaked to the skin, clothing molding against me. Through the silver streams I can barely see more than twenty feet of the landscape ahead. Pulling back on the reins, I slow the mare to a speed that will be less likely to break our necks should we fall.
    Overhead, the thunder takes up the rhythm of an erratic war-drum. I taste copper on the back of my tongue. The hills brighten for a moment as lightning cuts a jagged line across the sky. During the flash, I see a structure nestled in the hills not far ahead. Knowing he won’t hear me over the pounding rain and crashing thunder, I catch Grím’s eyes and point. He nods, and we steer our horses in the direction of the structure.
    An acrid scent fills the air and lightning flashes again, this time directly overhead. The rain increases with a vengeance at the next crash of thunder. Before the sound can even fade, lightning slashes a bluish-white trail through the dark clouds. As it does, it reveals