Page 105 of The Last Valkyrie

“Yes. Gothi Sigmund is dead. A new chieftain will be elected soon, and I’d like to get ahead of that by trying to bring the students together. We’ve seen how fractured and fragile things are at the academy. People are scared.”

“You think doing this won’t scare them even more? Confuse them, sneak?” Grim had pondered.

“I can’t see a better time to do it, when things are so up in the air like they are now. I have to do this.”

Whoever the new Gothi was going to be, he or she needed to know the students were aligned. More than that, he or she needed to understand we had, essentially, unionized.

“Kelvar asked me to be the Hersirs’ mouthpiece,” I’d said. “I’m only putting that scheme into action.”

Now it was time.

Gripping my hands into fists at my sides, I raised my voice above the gently swaying wind.

“Students, cadets, allies, comrades.” My eyes swiveled from face to face—from the recognizable Vikingruners I’d gone through terms with, to the distant elves I didn’t know. “Soon, we will get news on the direction of our academy. Will we fight and defend ourselves against the dark elves and jotnar? All signs are pointing towardyes.”

I kept my words purposefully vague, not wanting to spoil the fact that Gothi Sigmund was dead. A new chieftainwouldbe explaining the direction Vikingrune was headed in, I hoped. So it wasn’t exactly a lie. Just a broad understatement.

As my words settled, a low thread of conversation and hushed voices lifted from the crowd. They glanced at one another, clearly wondering what the Hel they were doing out here in the chill twilight right before supper time.

“I know many of my Vikingrune brethren are confused, scared, and angry. You’ve been taught to disregard the elves all your lives, and now you’re dining with them, judging them, and coming to terms with the fact weneedthem. And don’t get it twisted, friends. We do need them.”

The thread of conversation turned into a grumble. Many students didn’t want to hear that.

“However,” I said, raising a finger and taking a step closer to the precipice, staring down. It was a good thing I didn’t have a fear of heights, because the juxtaposition of where I stood and the drop below would have dizzied me otherwise. “I want it to be known, firsthand from someone who has mingled with the Ljosalfar and Skogalfar: They arenotyour enemies. We’re going to be tasked with defending our home soon, I have no doubt. We need to form a united front. What the Hersirs don’t say out loud, but should be obvious, is that this place doesn’t run withoutus!”

I punched my fist into an open palm. A few students cheered and whistled, but it was only a smattering compared to the growing voices of discontent.

“We can question leadership. We can disagree on strategy. What we can’t do is give up on each other before the fighting has even begun. All my human kinfolk here saw what happened on the bloody Selfsky Plains. We saw what happens when we charge headlong into an enemy without knowing what we’re dealing with—without having a contingency plan for when things gowrong. And things wentverywrong that day. We all lost someone. Our numbers dwindled, our confidence took a punch to the gut.”

I stood taller, squaring my shoulders, trying to stike something of a fierce pose in the final rays of the waning sun, now setting behind the world. The sky had turned from orange to pink to a bruised purple hue.

“To that end, I would like to show everyone something that I hope will renew your confidence. While the jotnar may have devastating magic and strength we can’t hope to compete against alone, I want you to know wearen’talone. We have weapons of our own.”

I cocked my head. “And who am I to make that statement? Why amIthe one standing up here, chatting your ear off when you could be cozied up in a mess hall with a warm bowl of soup?”

That got a few laughs, but even more stern nods, as if to say, “Yeah, whyareyou up there and why the fuck am I listening to you?”

I crooked a smile, though I knew no one could see it down below.They’ll be able to seethis, though.

“Well,” I said, “I’m the last dragonkin in Midgard.”

I fell into a trance then, closing my eyes and closing off the world from me as the ripple of concerned, confused voices reached my ears.

Over the past week—while the Hersirs dallied, the elves arrived and were treated with disgust, and the cadets trained—I had been practicing for this moment. I had to enter the snowy place in my mind; that liminal space between reality and the dreamgate where I could haul lost souls to their respective resting places.

I’d been to the picturesque wilderness of Folkvang, the golden halls of Valhalla, and even Hel itself.

I trained the thread in my mind to lead me to that golden orb of shining power that controlled my abilities. The same orb, I noticed, which guided me through the portals to get to Alfheim.

I didn’t know its source—if it was the Norns helping me along, or the spirits of the elves lending me guidance, or the authority of the gods. I only knew I had to follow it to summon my power and complete my transformation.

As I sprinted through the snowy valley walls lifting high into the heavens of my mind, I noticed they didn’t close on me this time. I intuitively understood it was because no dying soul waited for me on the other side—I wasn’t in a rush to get over there before they perished.

I reached the end of the valley with my wings intact, and was spit out into the real world, where my scaled dragon wings snapped out from my back, wide and glimmering black and silver in the new moonlight.

Gasps rose from the audience.

Bending my knees, I flared my nostrils and leveled the weight of the wings spread across my back, a span of more than twenty feet reaching out from my sides.

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