But when shame collides with anger, monsters were born.
* * *
Vali waitedin the middle of the stretch of land that separated the vehement sea from the stronghold behind him. The band of brutes stood in an unrelenting wall of shields only separating for a moment to allow three men to pass through. He dismounted as they approached.
The three men stopped several paces from where he stood, and the proximity allowed Vali to discover that two of the men were not men at all, but women. Any hint of a feminine physique was tucked away beneath armor vests and golden chain mail. Their wind-burned faces were marked with black paint, an intricate design bleeding across their scowls.
“You did not comply with my demands,” Vali said. The Tether was not here; he would be able to feel it if it were this close. The man leading the trio shifted on his feet, widening his stance.
“It is not a request if you do not detail what exactly you are looking for,” he said in a voice too casual to be afraid. “We have taken much from the Saxons. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Vali smiled beneath his hood. “I am no Saxon, and I have no interest in the riches you steal from this world. You are the man they call Ledger, are you not?”
“Aye, that is my name.”
“You are from the clan Drakame.”
Ledger’s eyes shifted to one of the women at his side before returning to him. “What do you know of my clan?”
Vali brought his hands in front of him, folding his fingers between each other. “I know that the rest of your kin will perish for Drakame’s secrets. Those behind you may not know what I’m after, but you do, heathen. You have stolen something from the gods, something that does not belong to you. Do not waste your breathLedger the Liar.Your falsehoods will only kill you faster.”
“I will let the gods be the judge of my integrity,” Ledger replied, lifting his chin an inch higher. “If I am as guilty as you claim, if I have indeed stolen something from our gods, then I will perish in combat.”
Vali’s grinned widened. “Trial by combat? I believe that’s fair. Unfortunately for you, Ledger, you chose the wrong adversary to pass your judgement. I was born solely for revenge and redemption, and I will not leave this realm until I seize them both.”
Ledger’s face paled, further faded by the overcast sky stealing the color from a vibrant realm. His gloved hand went toward the hilt of his sword, unsheathing the steel in a languid motion. “This realm? Who are you, demon?”
Vali’s smile fell. His blood roared as his magic primed beneath his skin. “I am precisely what you believe I am.”
Ledger swung the blade without a precursor of his intentions, aimed for Vali’s exposed neck. He wore no armor, only a dark green, velvet tunic beneath a heavy cloak—the rest of his riding gear of equal refinement. But before the blade could meet the base of the hood concealing his marks, he intercepted its trajectory with a bare grip.
Ledger’s eyes widened as Vali wrapped his long fingers around the sharpened metal and pulled it free from his grasp. His mind was the only weapon he needed here, the power in his veins sharper than any steel, and he used it to still the heathen in place while thrusting the sword into Ledger’s chest. A strangled sound escaped his painted lips as the man folded over his weapon; his knees buckled as he collapsed against the earth.
“Guilty,” Vali spat. It was the last word the liar would hear.
“Faðir!”Father,one of the women shrieked in the old language. Vali’s gaze shifted to her. They were a family, his daughters, no doubt as guilty as their predecessor.
The other woman didn’t even flinch, unhooking the axe at her side to avenge her father’s death. Vali thrust out a hand in her direction, sending her flying off her feet. She landed hard on her back, and Vali coaxed the remaining air from her lungs with the twitch of his fingers. She would suffocate until he gave the air back.
And he wouldnevergive it back. These heathens liked to steal, but he could take as well.
“Let her go, swine—” the remaining daughter was on him in the blink of an eye, using her dagger to slash at his face. No fear in her eyes, no blanching, just anger and hatred and a heinous amount of ego.
Vali ducked before her dagger hit his temple, not that it would have cut his skin. His movements were more out of the reaction than defense. As he stooped, he spun, twisting around the woman while she staggered forward. He snatched the thick blonde hair trailing her back, forcing her face toward the sky and exposing the vascular area of her neck. He used his fingernail to draw a line across her throat, the skin flayed open beneath his touch. He pushed her dying body to the side, stepping over the father’s corpse to mount his steed. A strangled choke forced him to look over his shoulder, to verify the woman he left for dead was truly dying.
Her cheeks were bruised, lips stained blue, and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. But the Ostman was standing, her arm trembled as she pointed his way. Curious, he watched her, wondering what she was trying to say.
A breath later, Vali felt something warm dribble down the thin lining of his tunic. He pulled back the fold of his cloak to find his shirt now soaked with blood, sourced by a hole over his left pectoral growing larger before his eyes.
He looked back at the woman, now on her knees, yet still focused on the last moments of her final command. Vali smoothed his coat, hiding the damage to his attire and closing the wound she created with a simple smooth of his hand.
“So, there is magic in you heathens.” He smiled down at her. She collapsed against the dew beaded grass, her mouth gaping open as if to string him with curses.
“It’s a pity you went for my heart, Lady Ostman.” He knelt, closing the distance between them as he closed her parted lips with a finger beneath her jaw. “Because I do not have one anymore.”
From the back of the shield wall, arrows fired. They whistled a soft cry through the air and arched high above the battleground, and Vali watched their trail break through the misty morning. Before they descended upon him, he held up his hand and disintegrated the futile arrows into the same ash their shafts were carved from.
These mortals were playing a losing game with him, but he would humor them in their efforts. And they would lose everything in their gamble against a power greater than they.