Page 4 of Between Broomsticks and Beating Wings
Tonight, I would take my time. Tonight, I would press the limits of a mortal body, see how long I could let its soul linger within its confines. The longer the warrior souls could wait for their afterlife, the longer I had to explore the home they were to abandon—and the people they abandoned too.
Mead swished from one cheek to the next before I swallowed it down. Elderberry tonight. At least some things changed. I refilled my goblet, not meeting the eyes of the people sharing the long, wooden table with me. They all knew I wasn’t much of a talker anyway, at least not before my tenth cup. I didn’t mind reconfirming words and whispers spoken as I turned my back.
I pulled a turkey thigh from the silver tray in the center of the table and took it, and the goblet, with me. Right before I left, I tucked a bottle of mead under my arm. I’d shown my face for long enough tonight; there was always tomorrow night.
Ripping meat from bone, I ambled through the great hall doors and out into the breezeway. I closed my eyes as the evening air ran over my flushed face and walked like that until I inevitably ran into someone. I mumbled my apology and opened my eyes to see where my blinded stumbling had landed me. I’d arrived just short of a balcony with strong stone pillars and a fountain carved of marble. My eyes darted from the water spewing out through little faces, then back down to my turkey leg.
Shrugging, I set my goblet and bottle on the edge of the fountain and bit down on the turkey to free my hands. I unleashed my feet from leather boots, curling my toes on cool stone. Before I changed my mind, I climbed into the fountain, the water soaking my leathers. My whole body squeaked in a ridiculous melody as I splashed about. Once I found a nice spotwhere the stone dipped and cradled my ass perfectly, I reclaimed my goblet.
As I ate and drank, I stared off at the horizon lit only by flame and stars. I’d never argue Valhalla wasn’t the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. Its beauty was never my ailment, and I oftentimes couldn't put my finger on what exactly my ailment was. Yet, I needed to medicate for it, nonetheless.
Truth be told, I’m not sure how long I stayed in the fountain, staring off at dark and hidden mountains. By the time my fingers had pruned and my leathers were ruined, the turkey leg was nothing but picked bone. Sadly, my goblet was emptied of mead, somewhere at the bottom of the fountain.
“I leave you for no more than a few moments, and you're already getting yourself into trouble?” a woman’s voice poured out into the night like spun silk.
“Rayna?” I swung my head to look behind me, but my eyes filled with fluid as the woman dumped a goblet of water onto my face. The cool water upon my dry skin sent a shock of awareness through me, my heart thumping in my chest, bringing new life to my unmoving limbs. I jerked up just as she grabbed my hands and yanked me clean out of the fountain, soaked clothing and all.
“Yes, it’s me, you idiot,” my younger sister said. “You’re lucky I found your drunk ass before one of Odin’s guards did.”
“Eh, wouldn’t be the first time.” I shrugged, pushing off her slightly to stand on my own, but she held me firm in her grasp. As I wiped my eyes, Rayna came into focus as more than a simple, hazy figure. Her pale blonde hair was tied neatly back into braids, still maintaining strands of color from her previous mortal life. She looked as if she’d been distracted while in the middle of putting on her armor, her right breastplate strap hanging limply down her chest.
“Exactly my point. Gods, you reek of stale water. Let’s get you out of here and cleaned up, alright?”
“If you so wish,” I said through a string of hiccups. “Idohave souls to collect.”
“Not in this state, you don’t.” Rayna dragged me along, though I insisted I could walk on my own.
“I am inebriated, yes, but not a drunken fool. My feet are simply…numb and uncooperative at the moment. But as soon as my blood comes rushing back, hear me, I’ll be flying to Midgard with the rest of you.”
“You’re no fool, but you are a drunken hazard, Rune,” Rayna said as we walked. She gave me more leeway to make it down the corridor independently. Even through hazy eyes, I didn’t miss the disapproving glares she shot me. “I know you care little if your behavior gets you hurt, but don’t forget about the rest of us.”
“You’re too hard to kill, Rayna. I’ve tried,” I said with an amused chuckle. The woman, while still young, was one of the fiercest warriors I’d ever known. The muscle in her jaw pulsed with each word I spoke.
“There are more ways you could harm me and the rest of the sisters than by simply taking our lives. You should know better than anyone, there are much worse fates than death.”
My own muscles stiffened at her sobering words. I realized then she was holding my boots. Had I still been barefoot? My throat cleared, and I motioned for her to hand me the leather boots. I may have destroyed the rest of my gear, but at least I’d had some shred of decency and removed my shoes first. They were my favorite pair, after all.
Rayna handed them to me with a tight-lipped smile. Her eyes wandered my face, like if she looked hard enough, she could see if her words penetrated my thick skull. Lucky for her, they had.
“I hear you, Rayna. I do.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she silently nodded her head. The two of us didn’t speak for the rest of our walk as we made our way home.
I’d grown accustomed to the pounding headaches that followed after gorging myself on mead and meat all night. The extra blood pulsing in my temples created music for my ears only. It was special, really, when you thought of it like that. What was better than the music of your own blood to remind you that you were still alive? Because Iwasstill alive.
Though my days were surrounded by the dead, I wasn’t truly one of them. Sure, my mortal self had slowly faded away, as did the color in my hair, but I still lived and breathed just as I always had. If I were like the warriors who had been flown up to Valhalla, I could eat and drink to my heart’s content and suffer none of the nasty consequences. But alas, I had something they didn’t: flesh and blood.
Once Rayna and I arrived at the House of Wings, she directed me to the washtub to clean up. The golden tub had done the rest for us, already waiting for me with steaming hot water. After stripping out of my sodden leathers, I collapsed into the tub without a shred of grace. My fingers were still pruned from the fountain water, but the healing waters of the golden Valhalla tub immediately plumped my skin. I only lingered long enough to scrub myself of stench, not bothering to untie each braid from my hair. Surely, my locks could wait a day or two to be washed.
When I crawled out of the tub, there was a small plate of berries and honey sitting on a wooden stool to rouse my senses. I popped a sticky raspberry into my mouth, letting the energizing flavors pull me out of my stupor.
Wrapping myself in a towel, I gazed into the mirror opposite me, trimmed with ornate patterns in precious metals. I stared back at the reflection longer than I should have, like I often found myself doing. When I first entered the Sisterhood and moved into the House of Wings, I stared into a mirror much like this one, fascinated by the idea that I would someday know every line and curve of my face. When I realized I had a lifetime to do so, I’d believed it was deeply romantic to know yourself in such a way. I’d imagined that by the time I earned my one hundredth year, I would have memorized every feature on my un-aging face.
How wrong I’d been.
I’d earned my one hundredth year a half a millennia ago, and I swore, with each year, the image staring back at me became more distant, more unfamiliar.
Sure, I could draw the sharp lines of my face in my sleep, but I’d never been able to capture what lingered beneath my grey-blue eyes. While my hair and body had changed with time, my locks white and my body stronger, my face remained an unchanging enigma.
