Page 34 of The Last Valkyrie

Chapter 12

Ravinica

WE DID NOT RECEIVEa hero’s welcome upon returning to Vikingrune Academy. By the time we reached Academy Hill, word of our significant losses in the Selfsky Plains had already reached the remaining army at the school.

Hersir Jorthyr and Tomekeeper Dahlia waited side-by-side in Dorymir Hall for a debriefing from Sigmund Calladan. The entire academy was invited to the discussion at the auditorium but attendance was not mandatory.

They struck a curious picture, the tall and lanky blond-bearded Hersir beside the squat, rotund Tomekeeper with a high nest of gray hair atop her head.

Unlike the first packed, energetic assembly from a few days before, where cadets had been relegated to standing-room due to overcrowding, now the seats were largely vacant. Only fifty or so cadets showed up, of which I was one. Everyone else retreated to their halls, their longhouses, and their dormitory quarters to sleep off the rest of the day after our tumultuous nightlong battle.

In my mind, it was insane more people weren’t here.Do the cadets here really not care about what’s going on with the leadership of their school?

I knew the future of Vikingrune Academy hung on the precipice. There would be many tears throughout the following days as classrooms became smaller, Nottdeen and NottdanQuarters were less inhabited, and people came to the realization those rooms and seats would not get filled until the next crop of initiates showed up from the Isle’s shores.

Friends, lovers, and family had been killed. Our loss at the hands of the jotnar and draug was a gut-punch we wouldn’t soon forget. Hopefully, it would drive us to new tactics and inspired realizations, before it was too late and weallended up dead.

Vikingrune was driven by arrogance before this event, and the false notion we were the “chosen ones” and special humans because we can do magic. We have never faced foes like that, or anywhere close to it, and they clearly don’t care about our history, structure, or confidence in ourselves.I sighed as I sat and listened near the front row as Gothi Sigmund spoke with Dahlia and Ingvus, relaying what happened and our plans moving forward.

If nothing else, the battle had been humbling and sobering.

My mates attended the debriefing ceremony, settling in near me with hard looks on their faces. It was as if they waited for any sort of misstep from the Gothi so they could chime in and give their opinions.

By the end of the forty-five-minute discussion, none of us had said a word. Sigmund said nothing to the two leaders who’d stayed behind to watch the academy that he hadn’t already said to us out in the field under more desperate circumstances.

“As Thane Canute suggested, I feel inclined to help Hersir Osfen train the soldiers in any capacity I can, sir,” Ingvus told Sigmund.

I didn’t trust him for one second. He had kept Corym a prisoner out of spite, hurting him when it hadn’t been necessary, out of some twisted satisfaction at seeing the elf suffer. Ingvus also didn’t like Grim—hated him, in fact—because the bear had humiliated him by escaping the Steward’s jail cells in the past.

I saw Ingvus Jorthyr as an enemy almost in the same way I saw the jotnar as enemies. Same went with Dahlia Anfinn, who wanted Magnus’ blood and schemed to see his end. She was calculating and cunning, and I was somewhat surprised these two bastards hadn’t tried to usurp control from Sigmund Calladan while we’d been gone.

As always, there is more going on here than meets the eye,I thought vaguely, not really sure where I was going with that thought. It was simply that Dahlia and Ingvus brought out the conspirator in me, to match like minds with like minds.

Toward the end of the meeting, Sigmund faced the small audience. I cringed when I heard a student snoring back on a higher aisle—recently returned from the battle, exhausted. They should have hit their bed rather than this debriefing.

Sigmund made no mention of the sleeping student, surprisingly, and fixed his eyes down the stage at my group.

“I have agreed to allow Corym E’tar to return to Alfheim to gather assistance,” he said to Ingvus and Dahlia, looking straight at Corym.

“The likelihood of the Ljosalfar helping us is slim, sir,” Ingvus said, crossing his arms to join the Gothi in staring at my elven lover.

“Respectfully, Hersir,” Corym began, standing from his seat, “you let me worry about my people, and you worry about yours.”

Ingvus’ eyes narrowed dangerously. His chin trembled, anger making him shake.

Sigmund laughed a humorless sound, glancing over at the Steward. “You can’t deny he has spirit, Ingvus.”

Spirit you couldn’t break, no matter how hard you attempted to, Jorthyr.

“Yes . . . perhaps the elf will surprise me.”

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