Page 30 of The Last Valkyrie

I saw the jotun closer then, with mountainous shoulders and a large head on a stubby neck. It had two long teeth—an overbite draping past its chin like a sabertooth tiger. A bald head, leathery-looking, and arms as sturdy and thick as my entire body. Its legs were powerful, it wore a loincloth that could have been used as a bedspread, and showed every inch of vascular, flexing muscle and vein in its unarmored state.

With a greenish, brownish hue to its skin, it looked like a troll or giant from a storybook, essentially humanoid but twice as tall and three times as wide and burly.

The jotun put a hand onto the shield, a blip of green zapping its fingers. Waving off the jolt with a flap of its palm, the jotun stared down at the defiant, valorous Hersir.

“Form ranks!” Thorvi screamed. “When I drop the barrier, charge the bastard!”

Her robes fluttered around her as her power continued.

The jotun pulled a giant club from its back, easily ten-feet tall with a bludgeoned, bulbous end.

“Ready yourselves!” Thorvi screeched without looking over her shoulder, keeping both hands raised to the heavens to keep the barrier intact.

The jotun made a movement with its free hand—vague and unintelligible, like it was giving some sort of sign-language signal.

Our shield wall advanced with a cry, twenty of us at once, closing the gap with two long strides—

And the giant swung its maul in a sideways arc to batter the shield.

“Now—” Thorvi began. “—Oh!”

The maul cracked through her emerald shield like it was a fence made of paper, ripping through the barrier before she could shut it down voluntarily when the soldiers got closer.

I watched with a horrified tilt to my features—

And Thovi Kardeen . . . disappeared.

One minute she was standing there, the next she was evaporated in a cloud of red mist and fleshy fragments.

“Guh!” Gothi Sigmund screamed reflexively, stunned.

The jotun snarled at us, slapped its maul toward the ground off to its side, and flung the bloody remains of Hersir Thorvi Kardeen across the yellow plains.

I stuttered to a halt, our shield wall abruptly freezing, our charge losing its force and energy. We gasped in unison at the ease with which the jotun had ended one of our best fighters—our teacher, a frizzy-haired woman everyone at the academy knew and loved.

My heart sank, my stomach twisted in knots, my boots were lead weights.

As the shock and awe wore off, the giant took a step toward us. More rumbling hit the earth and startled us awake. In thedistance, other jotnar emerged from the mist that had banked against the base of the Telvos Mountains.

At least five of them, easily as tall as this one, some even larger.

All eyes turned to Gothi Sigmund.

He was pale-faced, showing the first signs of fear, dismay, and hesitance I’d ever seen from the stern chieftain. The ice-and-fire magic dissipated from his sword.

Staring forward for a long moment at the incoming mass of power, Sigmund glanced over his shoulder to survey the field.

Our army was in tatters. The draug were basically extinguished but we’d lost countless lives. No one was lined up in their regiments any longer—the initiates mingled with cadets and Huscarls. The oversized bull creature had caused untold devastation.

Yet it was Thorvi Kardeen’s end that recalibrated the entire battle and put a pause on our arrogance.That thing was able to attackthrougha magical barrier from one of our strongest mages—easily!

The murderous jotun was coming in fast, lumbering toward us.

“G-Gothi!” I called out, my throat hitching and cracking, begging for a command.

The earth rumbled. Bellowing roars from the charging jotnar shook the heavens.

“Retreat, academy! To Delaveer Forest!” Gothi Sigmund thrust his arm.

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