Swan Killer: Prologue

The valkyrie took a jagged breath, inhaling the heavy scent of iron, sweat and anticipation. She had once been a mighty winged maiden, flying over battlefields, and carrying the valiant dead to Valhalla. Odin, the Norse gods' All-father, trained these spirits in battle, preparing them to use in his army for when Ragnarok came: the end of the world.

The valkyrie's opal wings had beaten strongly back then, but now they slapped against the terracotta floor. Flaccid; hollow.

Her eyes rolled back as she squeezed Freyja's hand - the queen of the valkyries, and the goddess of fertility. The response was automated to the pain: the only sensations she was experiencing were the result of a concoction of thyme, sage and chamomile flowing through her. Freyja's usually full lips were a tight line as she wiped the perspiration from her valkyrie's forehead. The goddess's blonde hair, normally flowing down her back in soft curls, was now tied in a tight bun.

'Kelda, it will be over soon enough.' Freyja placed a raspberry tea ice cube in Kelda's mouth, to help the labour and slow the bleeding, but she did not suck on it. The queen of the valkyries had not met Kelda very often. Many years ago, a mortal man had stolen Kelda's swan cloak, a feathered piece of material which allowed her to transform into a swan. The man had hid Kelda's cloak, and in his action, she became sworn to him, and forgot about her past as a valkyrie. A few years ago, Kelda had found her cloak, and reconnected to her past and her passion for battle. But she had found she was still in love with the man, so had stayed with him, rather than residing in Valhalla with the other valkyries.

Freyja felt a connection to each of her valkyries. She felt their pain, their panic, their joy. Being so close to Kelda made it hard to concentrate, so she used her energy to suppress Kelda's pain in herself. Yet she sensed that Kelda did not regret her decision to be with the mortal, and did not blame him for her premature labour. After several moments, Kelda released a vibrant cry. The smell of raspberry leaf tea was on her breath, and Freyja experienced the sensation of new life. She looked towards where her assistant valkyrie, Serah, was cutting the umbilical cord.

'Kelda, look,' Freyja said.

The baby's tiny wings fluttered. For a second, it seemed Kelda became lucid again, it appeared her lips were turning up at the sight of her child squirming with life and health.

'I'm sure she will be as noble as your warrior,' Freyja said. She remembered her mortal having many warrior rings on his arms, a symbol that he was valiant and courageous in battle. She was sure he would one day be part of Odin's army.

Kelda's grip on her queen increased, before her body convulsed. Freyja whispered words of comfort, and when she was still, the goddess placed Kelda's limp arm across her chest, then lay her other arm in the same position. Freyja kissed her valkyrie's forehead, and turned towards the assistant holding the orphaned child. As she took the baby in her arms, the temperature in the room dropped. Everything was still. Sound was distorted. Sensations were numbed.

'I believe she is mine.' A tall woman, her whole aura as dark as the night, strode into the room. Half her face was pale as the moon; the other half was covered with a strong metal mask. It shone gold, and was etched with a delicate swirling pattern. Freyja stepped back from the goddess of the underworld, bowing her head. 'Hel, let Kelda's journey be comfortable.' Normally, spirits made their way to the underworld on their own, but for the immortal spirits such as gods and valkyries, Hel made a special appearance. Odin had punished Hel to the underworld, so Freyja's respect for her was more out of caution than reverence.

Hel put her hands over the valkyrie. Light shifted through the body which had long ago lost its luminosity. After a moment, it concentrated in Kelda's heart. Hel drew the light out of her, and formed it into a ball. She then dropped the soul into a leather bag she wore on her hip. She reached her hand out, and pointed a long, slender finger at the baby who writhed in the queen of the valkyrie's hands.

'The child also.' Hel's voice had the tone of one who was rarely disobeyed.

Freyja clutched the tiny valkyrie to her breast. The heart of the baby beat strong against her skin. 'She is not ready to depart from this world. Surely you can sense her strength?'

Hel's steps were long and sure, and though Freyja wanted to take the baby away from Hel's touch, she let the goddess of the underworld touch the newborn's chubby arm.

'It hasn't long left in this world,' Hel warned.

Freyja turned her body away from Hel and kissed the baby's forehead. 'She felt warm in her arms, and her cheeks glowed with newborn life. Freyja frowned at Hel. 'What is it you want with her?'

Hel held her head up, projecting her voice with practiced knowledge. 'It is of no concern to me if it faces the journey to my realm on its own in two day's time, or leaves this temporary home today with its mother. It's soul will soon be mine either way. However, I see that you already love it. I thought it would give you peace knowing that mother and daughter would be together in their transition.'

'What of her body? She is not yet dead.'

'Give it to me. I'll take care of it.'

'Kelda would want to be buried with her child.'

'What does it matter? They are but empty vessels now.'

Freyja glared at her, and clutched at the baby. 'No.'

The child beat her petite wings. They were soft, but powerful for one so small.

'You lie to me, Hel. You are not your father, you know not how to disguise the truth behind your tricks. You are not having one of my valkyries. Not while she is still alive.'

'I will make my leave then, but I will see you again in two days, Freyja. Enjoy her while you can.' Hel marched out of the room. Warmth seeped back, but even with Hel gone, the room stung of cold mourning. Kelda's opal-coloured wings were already turning grey, and her face did not reflect the peace she was promised. The child pulled at Freyja's necklace, causing the goddess of fertility to bend her head towards her. She smiled and touched her lips to the baby's forehead again.

'You'll be fine, little one. You will make a worthy addition to Odin's swan maiden's one day. Strong enough to bring the warriors to Valhalla, yet soft enough to comfort them.'

***

The child's wings didn't flutter when Freyja picked her up, and her tiny body moved only with shallow breaths. 'I'm sorry, Kennafrid.' Freyja shivered. 'Just do it, Hel.'

The goddess of the underworld stood tall before Freyja, unflinching at the sight of the dying baby. 'Before I can, Kelda has asked me to bring Kennafrid's body into Niflheim. I have agreed to this arrangement.' Hel reached for the child, but Freyja held her arm protectively over the child.

'Why do you want her body?'

'Freyja, I want nothing of its body. Are you denying its mother's request to hold it? Let Kelda hold her baby's physical form for the first and last time. Surely you, of all of us, know what that would mean to her heart?'

Freyja looked down at Kennafrid. Each of the baby valkyrie's heartbeats was softer and further apart from the previous beat, de-synchronising from the goddess's own heart. Kennafrid's tiny hand was upon Freyja's necklace, but she did not grip it as she once had. 'My dear valkyrie, you deserve to be held by your mother,' She handed the baby over to Hel, 'You're safe now.'

Hel placed her hand on the terracotta floor, and summoned a portal to her domain in the underworld. As soon as she was through, the entrance shut.

***

Hel held the baby close to her as she strode through a blizzard of snow. Though she was used to this weather, the baby was not yet immune. The clouds were so thick tonight, that they obscured the parapet at the top of her home, but a yellow light glowed through, creating a path for her to follow.

Inside, Hel walked along narrow passageways filled with lurking shadows and statues which were never seen in the same position twice. Most of the spirits of the underworld were not permitted in her home, but she allowed privileges for special sinners.

Her hound, Garm, bounded over as she entered what would become the child's bedroom. Saliva covered the hound's mouth, drooling over glinting fangs, and dripping into a small pool on the dirt floor.

'No, Garm. This is not your meal.' Hel made contact with her dog's eyes. 'You must protect her. She is part of our family now.'  Garm tilted his head. His whiskers quivered, as he wrinkled his snout and growled at the child. Hel touched her finger to his muzzle. 'Protect her, Garm.'

Hel placed the child into the cot. She pinched one of her wings, and pulled. With her immortal strength, she managed to break the wing off her back. The baby cried out, and she quickly snapped her other wing. Garm rose up onto his hindlegs, and placed his paws on the cot. He sniffed at the baby, then ran his thick tongue over Kennafrid's face, calming her. Hel wiped the saliva away with a yellow blanket, then tucked the shivering child into it. 'You'll soon be immune to the cold, and the pain will fade. Don't worry.' Half of Hel's face wore the smile of a teenager in love, while the other portrayed the silent laugh of the dead, coming from features which resembled a rotting corpse. She kissed the baby's forehead, renaming her, 'Svanhild. My Svanhild. Your affliction will cease tomorrow.'

In Svanhild's sleep, the stubs that had been her wings trembled. As Hel strode away, a piece of down that had already grown back shimmered onyx, and the connection between Freyja and the valkyrie began to separate. By tomorrow, the baby valkyrie would be assumed dead.