Page 22 of The Last Valkyrie

We trekked north, past the worst of the fighting in the middle of our camp. Bodies littered the ground, both cadets and hissing draug that refused to die.

We lit them on fire as we passed, taking Hersir Osfen’s suggestion and setting Delaveer Forest aflame for the sake of winning the battle.

Our group was nearly twenty strong. Any errant draug that came mindlessly from the shadows were quickly hacked down and burned to cinders.

As we pushed into the Selfsky Plains, out of the tree line, I noticed the sheer fatigue on everyone’s faces. Moonlight showed gaunt faces, terror-stricken eyes, slack expressions. Pockets of cadets were emerging from other sections of the trees, making for the plains where it was understood we’d be safer from draug attacks under the pale moonlight.

Out here, with high grass in every direction, there were no trees or bushes or foliage for our enemies to hide behind. We could put together a concerted effort—a proper shield wall—if the cadets in Hersir Osfen’s group could get their bearings and summon the energy to do it.

Axel himself stepped out of the trees with a contingent of cadets a few minutes later. The Hersir breathed heavily, wiping blood off his face.

It seemed every inch of our regiment had suffered losses and seen part of the action. Everyone wore haunted expressions, as if this demented situation would stay in their dreams for years.

A few eyes glanced my way, wary and suspicious.They see me as one of the enemy,I noticed, after catching more than a few wayward looks.Because my last name is Feldraug and I’m technically undead, since I was birthed to a dead woman.

What the common Vikingruner didn’t realize was it was mybloodthat made me different, not my name. It was my magical blood that had kept me alive in my mother’s womb after she died. I was no more draug than they were.

Our tattered regiment converged around Hersir Osfen.

Axel’s voice had turned hoarse. “I’ve been given intelligence that both other regiments were attacked in similar fashion by undead ghouls meant to terrify us. But we are soldiers, and we aren’t scared, are we?”

A small smattering of “nay” rose up from the crowd. They didn’t sound sure. No one had their hearts in it. Even now, our numbers looked greatly dwindled. For every Olaf or Tyrus we had lost, there were countless more still dying in the forest, and weweretoo scared to go back for them. I could see that terror in each and every face I looked at.

“Dawn is near,” Axel said, looking to the sky. “If we can make it to daybreak, we will have survived the worst catastrophe in Vikingrune Academy history.”

No one gave a shit about our school’s history. Not now. Not when their brothers and sisters and comrades were dead and dying on nameless ground.And for what? Sigmund Calladan’s pride? His legacy? Why are we fuckinghere?

The earth trembled. Rumbling hooves filled the dismal silence. Eyes turned north, where steeds barreled down from the direction of the northernmost regiment.

Gothi Sigmund led the group, a sword in his hand as he held the reins with the other. Thane Canute was beside him, the massive shield the man wielded on his back making him seem even larger. Behind them were countless Huscarls and riders—our heavy cavalry and strike force.

The strike force that had shown up too late.

I flared my nostrils as the Gothi and his people arrived.

No one bowed or saluted or said a damned thing as he dismounted and joined Hersir Osfen to speak in a low tone to the battlelord.

How convenient. You miss the battle by mere minutes. Even though all three regiments were allegedly attacked, your troops don’t seem much worse for wear, do they, Gothi?

Ravinica also had angry eyes, likely reflecting the same sentiment regarding our illustrious leader.

He hasn’t been Gothi for so long by opening himself up to danger at every turn. No, I reckon he’s avoided it whenever he can.

From the side of Sigmund’s regiment, my father slunk away and came to join our side of the battlefield. Kelvar hadn’t been wounded. It didn’t look like he’d seen much fighting at all.

“Whisperer,” I said, opting to call him by his informal title rather than “Father,” so the nearby cadets wouldn’t get even more confused. “How did you fare?”

Kelvar frowned. “Much better than your regiment, I fear. I’m sorry, s—soldier.”

He had been ready to call me “son,” I realized, before catching himself. I glanced past him. Gothi Sigmund spoke with Axel but had his eyes on me and my shadowblade father.

“We shouldn’t be seen conversing with each other for long,” I said in a small voice.

“Right. Impropriety and all.” He whisked me a small smile.

I didn’t return the favor. I’d seen too much death tonight to feel any levity. The fact he tried to make me feel better was insulting.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for the fight,” he said with a sigh.

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