Valkyrie Slumbering by L. VanHorn Read Free Book Online Page A

something massive and silvery undulating across the sky.
    Impossible.
    I shake my head and force myself to focus on the field before me. I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Surely that’s the only explanation.
    Just ahead, the clouds part as if swept aside and from them emerges a tail ending in a forked shape that’s bigger than my head. Rain glistens across scales that skim the sky no more than ten feet above us.
    “It can’t be.” The wind swallows my protest.
    Movement to the left draws my attention. A silver wing the size of a Viking ship sail flaps just on the other side of Grím.
    “Grím, watch out!” I scream so loud it feels as though something tears in my throat.
    His head whips in that direction. He ducks low as the impossibly huge wing whips toward him. It skims just over the top of his back then pulls up into the clouds. The texture was leathery, like that of a bat. Yet I know of no bat, either in this world, or any of the nine, that reaches such a size. It can only be one thing.
    Another flash turns the landscape white, revealing a crumbled ruin of white rock ahead. The structure we had glimpsed from afar is only a small part of an expanse of ruins that cover half the hillside. From the crumbled walls, arches, and bits of towers that remain, it’s clear it used to be a castle.
    Gripping the reins tight, I steer the mare toward the closest intact structure. She plunges toward it with renewed vigor. In the increasing darkness and endless streams of rain, I’ve lost sight of Grím. My heart plummets into my stomach as my eyes scan about for him.
    Scales fill the sky above me, looking like the belly of a gigantic silver fish. Save that fish don’t have clawed feet the size of a horse’s flanks. Claws as big as daggers reach for me. I duck low as I can and urge my mare faster. She dodges right. Claws snag at my hair but don’t find purchase.
    The mare leaps over a half crumbled wall and suddenly we’re galloping down a hallway. A loud clatter sounds behind us, followed by another set of hooves pounding on cobblestones. I glance back. Grím is leaning over the neck of his stallion, galloping up behind us.
    It takes me a moment to realize the rain is no longer falling upon me. A roof spans high overhead. I slow the mare to a trot. We enter a round chamber that must be at least twenty feet across, the base of a tower maybe. The sight of the intact walls and ceiling nearly draw a sob of relief from me. Outside an arched window, lightning flashes, thunder booms, and rain roars down. I’m not sure if the raging storm means Thor and Odin are upset the otherworldly beast didn’t kill us, or that it’s after us in the first place.
    Slowing her down to a walk, I guide my horse over to a wall and bring her to a halt. Her head hangs in exhaustion and her sides heave with each breath. I pat and scratch her sopping wet neck and relax in the saddle, hoping the change in my energy will soothe her.
    The sound of the storm masks Grím’s approach as he walks the stallion around us. He gives the room a cursory glance, then dismounts and bends to inspect his horse’s right front leg. The room is too dark to see much. Despite the dull roar of the storm, I’m afraid to speak.
    Eventually, Grím puts the horse’s leg down, straightens, and pats him on the neck. As he starts to remove the saddle, I dismount and care for my own horse. Already her eyes have stopped darting about and her muscles have begun to relax. I envy her for there is no way I can relax so easily.
    Once my horse is settled, I walk to Grím’s side. Our eyes catch. There is a wildness in his blue depths, a mixture of exhilaration and fear that set my heart to pounding again. With light touches, I lift his arms, turn his hands over, check every bit of him for injuries. Only when I’m convinced that he’s unscathed do I let out my breath.
    When I finish, I find him smiling at me, eyes drinking me in. The curve of his lips make me smile in return.