else drifted through the night, overpowering it.
Courage.
I hadn’t known things like fear or bravery had a smell, much less a taste, until that moment. Something strange was in the air that night. Something that was affecting me, subtly shifting my senses. And it had me terrified. More than anything, I wanted to be back in my bed at my grandmother’s house, where I could bury my face under a pillow and block out the whole world forever.
Kjell sighed next to me. Or maybe he just exhaled. Then, without saying anything, he eased the car back onto the narrow road that skirted the fjord and led back toward Skavøpoll. He kept the headlights off until at least five miles separated us from those men.
We drove in silence, our eyes drifting to the rearview mirrors every few seconds. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that Kjell’s shoulders finally lowered back to their usual height.
“I suppose you’re wondering what happened back there,” Kjell said. His voice was distant, like he was still tangled up in his thoughts. “And to tell you the truth, so am I. There’s a theory. I’m just worried you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me,” I said, looking out the window at the pale moonlight rippling across the fjord. It would take a lot to surprise me after what I’d just seen. But somehow he succeeded.
“If you want to believe the legends and the gossips, well, then, those girls were Valkyries.” He said it fast, the words sprinting out of his mouth.
“What’s that?” I interrupted. That word had hit me, again, with an almost tangible force. It was the question that had been burning my brain since Astrid had put her fingertip to my forehead. “What’s a Valkyrie?”
Kjell’s silence lasted so long that I looked over to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep behind the wheel.
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he said. “I know before tonight, I thought everyone else was.”
I glanced at his profile, surprised by how frightened and uncertain he sounded. It was a far cry from the sunny, carefree laughter of just an hour ago.
“Back in the time of the Vikings, soldiers were encouraged to embrace death without fear,” he said. “And according to their religion, according to what is now considered myth, Valkyries were beautiful women who hovered around battlefields, and when brave fighters were killed, they took their souls to Valhalla—a fortress ruled by Odin, god of death and war and knowledge. From a military standpoint, it was a brilliant belief system. The idea of being rewarded by Odin and his Valkyries took away the fear of death, so that people would fight without regard for personal safety. Because if they were brave and reached Valhalla, they were rewarded, but they were also on call in case Odin needed them. They became part of Odin’s army.”
The mention of Odin tied my stomach into a double knot. Kjell and my grandmother had been talking about Odin in hushed voices in the entry hall that very night. It was far too timely to be a coincidence. It wasn’t like my no-nonsense grandmother was a mythology buff.
“You’re joking, right?” I asked. “I mean, about there really being Valkyries?”
The eyes that searched my face in the darkness were tense, as were the hands gripping the steering wheel. He was about as serious as it gets.
“Sure, those girls were … unusual, but that doesn’t mean they’re mythical beings,” I said, even though I knew it couldn’t be yet another coincidence that Astrid had used the word Valkyrie when she’d stormed the bar. I didn’t like how neatly the pieces were fitting into an impossible explanation.
When Kjell didn’t answer right away, I realized that maybe I’d offended him. “So is it a cultural thing—like people here still believe in all this mythology stuff? Because then I guess it’s not such a leap of logic.” As the words slipped out, I realized I’d probably just offended him even more.
Kjell laughed. “This may be a small
Courage.
I hadn’t known things like fear or bravery had a smell, much less a taste, until that moment. Something strange was in the air that night. Something that was affecting me, subtly shifting my senses. And it had me terrified. More than anything, I wanted to be back in my bed at my grandmother’s house, where I could bury my face under a pillow and block out the whole world forever.
Kjell sighed next to me. Or maybe he just exhaled. Then, without saying anything, he eased the car back onto the narrow road that skirted the fjord and led back toward Skavøpoll. He kept the headlights off until at least five miles separated us from those men.
We drove in silence, our eyes drifting to the rearview mirrors every few seconds. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that Kjell’s shoulders finally lowered back to their usual height.
“I suppose you’re wondering what happened back there,” Kjell said. His voice was distant, like he was still tangled up in his thoughts. “And to tell you the truth, so am I. There’s a theory. I’m just worried you’ll think I’m crazy.”
“Try me,” I said, looking out the window at the pale moonlight rippling across the fjord. It would take a lot to surprise me after what I’d just seen. But somehow he succeeded.
“If you want to believe the legends and the gossips, well, then, those girls were Valkyries.” He said it fast, the words sprinting out of his mouth.
“What’s that?” I interrupted. That word had hit me, again, with an almost tangible force. It was the question that had been burning my brain since Astrid had put her fingertip to my forehead. “What’s a Valkyrie?”
Kjell’s silence lasted so long that I looked over to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep behind the wheel.
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he said. “I know before tonight, I thought everyone else was.”
I glanced at his profile, surprised by how frightened and uncertain he sounded. It was a far cry from the sunny, carefree laughter of just an hour ago.
“Back in the time of the Vikings, soldiers were encouraged to embrace death without fear,” he said. “And according to their religion, according to what is now considered myth, Valkyries were beautiful women who hovered around battlefields, and when brave fighters were killed, they took their souls to Valhalla—a fortress ruled by Odin, god of death and war and knowledge. From a military standpoint, it was a brilliant belief system. The idea of being rewarded by Odin and his Valkyries took away the fear of death, so that people would fight without regard for personal safety. Because if they were brave and reached Valhalla, they were rewarded, but they were also on call in case Odin needed them. They became part of Odin’s army.”
The mention of Odin tied my stomach into a double knot. Kjell and my grandmother had been talking about Odin in hushed voices in the entry hall that very night. It was far too timely to be a coincidence. It wasn’t like my no-nonsense grandmother was a mythology buff.
“You’re joking, right?” I asked. “I mean, about there really being Valkyries?”
The eyes that searched my face in the darkness were tense, as were the hands gripping the steering wheel. He was about as serious as it gets.
“Sure, those girls were … unusual, but that doesn’t mean they’re mythical beings,” I said, even though I knew it couldn’t be yet another coincidence that Astrid had used the word Valkyrie when she’d stormed the bar. I didn’t like how neatly the pieces were fitting into an impossible explanation.
When Kjell didn’t answer right away, I realized that maybe I’d offended him. “So is it a cultural thing—like people here still believe in all this mythology stuff? Because then I guess it’s not such a leap of logic.” As the words slipped out, I realized I’d probably just offended him even more.
Kjell laughed. “This may be a small
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