Page 46 of The Last Valkyrie

Chapter 16

Ravinica

THAT EVENING, CORYMand Magnus left the academy to head for the elf portal. They packed light and used the cover of darkness, planning on moving swiftly through the Isle to avoid detection and get into Alfheim before anyone noticed they were gone.

They were leaving under the directive of Gothi Sigmund, which was a surprising shift in the political landscape for Sigmund, who had latched the gates and sealed off the academy before our fateful fight against the draug and jotnar. It seemed to put into perspective the direness and necessity of their quest, if the Gothi was allowing them to leave.

Before they departed, I asked, “What’s your plan if dark elves are guarding the portal? Sigmund withdrew all soldiers at the encampment since the fight, with enemies running freely around the Isle.”

The duo noticed the lines of worry etched on my forehead, my fidgeting hands. Corym put a calming touch on my knuckles, drawing my hands into his. “We’ll create distractions,lunis’ai. We’ve already discussed this.”

“Don’t underestimate my shadowshaping skills, love,” Magnus told me with a wink. “We’ll be all right.”

I let out a heavy, deep sigh. “Okay.”

And then they were gone, leaving me with Grim, Sven, and Arne.

The four of us attended the campus-wide burial ceremony for the lives that had been lost during the battle. We wanted to make a show of camaraderie, and possibly even tie new bonds together with rivals we had, such as Damon and Eirik and their cliques. We were facing a common foe now, which meant we needed to put petty familial squabbles behind us. In my opinion, anyway.

Plus, I had a couple things I needed to ask my brothers.

The event took place on the wide expanse of Tyr Meadow, just to the north of Gharvold Hall where our garrison lay massively depleted since the fight.

Nearly everyone showed up to pay their respects. It was a somber ceremony, filled with tears and anger. I gave nods to many cadets and initiates I recognized from the battlefield, receiving the same kindness from them. Jaws were clamped shut, and the whole student body seemed ready to explode soon if they weren’t given some semblance of hope.

Gothi Sigmund led the procession with a quick speech about togetherness and other bullshit he clearly didn’t believe in, but was trying his best to speak about in order to shape the structure of the academy to his liking.

It was Hersir Gudleif Selken, however, who gave the keynote eulogy. The tall, straight-backed runeshaping teacher took to the top of a hill in the balmy night, the moon casting a purple glow on the grass beneath our feet.

Hundreds of cadets were present, staring up at the Hersir in her dark robes and cloak. Many of us held lit torches as symbols of people we’d lost. Bodies had not been recovered in our hasty retreat—another fact that irked many of the students and soldiers alike—which meant we had to do unorthodox things for this mass burial ceremony.

There would be no longship firings or underground ship burials to ease the passing of our comrades. Only whispers, heartfelt eulogies, and sober accolades.

Gudleif cleared her throat, speaking above the wisp of wind fluttering across the meadow. “Our fallen will never be forgotten, students. Though their deaths may seem pointless and impossible now, always remember that they died protecting the sanctity of our home. Our purpose. And what purpose is that? To defend our realm against the other realms that seek to do us harm.

“We may never know why the jotnar have decided to strike now, or why the Dokkalfar find themselves on our island, eager to breach our wards to reach the wider expanse of Earth. It’s not our jobs to know. It’s our jobs to learn and tofight.” She punched a gloved fist into her open palm, baring her teeth in anger at the last words.

“No one exemplified that belief more than my colleague, my friend, and tutor to so many of you. I speak, of course, of Hersir Thorvi Kardeen.” A small, sad smile crossed Gudleif’s face, nearly hidden in the silhouetted darkness behind her.

“Though Thorvi may have been unassuming and small in stature, she was mighty in her convictions. A scholar, first and foremost, Thorvi came from humble beginnings. Many of you may not know this, but she began her adult life in a governmental position among the magicless. An only child, Thorvi had no one else to look to for guidance. She made a mission to provide the guidance she had lacked in her own young life to others coming up. She became jaded with the endless bureaucracy of her position and world, shirking those menial responsibilities and escaping to a small village on the fringes of civilization when her powers came to fruition.

“There, she excelled as tutor and teacher. She learned the ways of battle, so she might attend Vikingrune Academy and pursue a more honorable path. She excelled here as well, which should come as no surprise to anyone given her intransigent demeanor to succeed, learn, and get things done.”

I could hear the sniffles and tears beginning to fall as all of us cadets undoubtedly recalled specific times when Thorvi Kardeen had assisted us in our History & Tomes, Races & Realms, and Advanced History classes.

She had been warmer than the other Hersirs like Axel and Gudleif. She had given me leave multiple times when I’d been in conflict with other students, or upended at Eir Wing recovering. Like Gudleif, she never put any weight or acceptance in students bullying me or others.

“As you all know, Thorvi was a woman of merit. She judged others on their merit as well. Nepotism was a foreign expression to her. As one who did not come from a legacy family, no amount of coin or baiting would get her to change her position or beliefs. And above all, Thorvi Kardeen was a Hersir whobelieved, to her core, in what Vikingrune Academy stands for. We have not always done everything correctly, surely, yet councilors like Hersir Kardeen have always tried to right the ship and see us in the correct direction.”

Gudleif flared her nostrils, glancing away from the gathered crowd for a moment. I thought I saw a glint of tears trailing just below her eyes, but it could have been a play of the moonlight and torches.

When she turned to us again, her voice was torn, raspy as she finished her eulogy. She let out a heavy sigh before continuing. “I wish you all could have known Thorvi Kardeen like I did, for as many years as I did. We were more than colleagues. We were . . . family.” Her voice cracked, and a surprised wave of gasps lifted from the audience. “She was the best of us, the kindest of us, and showed her true grit in the face of unimaginable odds, pitting her small self against the largest of giants so she could protect us one last time. Frizzy hair flowing in the wind, glasses askew, hands raised to shape a protective barrier around our people.”

Gudleif raised a torch, Shaped a small spell, and looked heavenward as she sent fire and smoke fluttering in a great billow that brightened the sky—a symbolic gesture to signify Thorvi’s passing to Asgard.

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