Stealing the Valkyrie

A Rude Awakening

Edithe heard the horns blaring before smelling the acrid smoke that was already seeping into the room. Her eyes peeled open, mind and body still half consumed by sleep as her mother barged through the bedroom door, her voice urgent above the din, "Edie, Nessie, you must wake up!"

She prodded her baby sister who, like a newborn pup, was still snuggled against her, her leaden limbs lost in slumber. "Little Nessie, get up! Get up!"

She didn't need her mother to say it was Viking's that had come to their lands, the smoke and the frantic shouts of her people told her that. All she needed to do was run, like her father had taught her, run and don't look back. Her heart beat with fear. Fear of being captured but most of all fear of what these barbarians would do to her family. Even if her people were skilled swordsmen, she had heard many tales of these Northmen, tales which made them sound like the devil himself.

Edithe scrambled from the bed, pulling her dress and boots on with careless haste as her mother roused Nessie. She had a dagger, the handle carved with the head of a raven, it had been a birthday present from her father and she concealed it in the folds of her dress before tying her cloak and standing ready by the door.

Her mother cupped her cheeks, her voice now as calm as the sea after a storm, "you know where to go, beloved."

"Yes," Edithe nodded and her mother smiled, kissing her forehead like she was still that same little girl who would spend the day running through the wilderness only to return home with scraped knees and brambles snagged in her hair. Happy memories made her squeeze her mother tight, tight enough to hear the hammering in her chest and realise the calm in her voice was all a facade, a mother's way to protect her frightened daughters. There was no more time for memories or gentleness. Those things belonged in the peace of sunshine and the innocence of childhood, it was time to run, perhaps even time to die.

When the door swung open there was chaos. Fire, screams and the clang of iron on steel, a frenzy of noises all ringing out in heavy darkness. Edithe pulled her cloak around her and tried not to look, tried not to see the axes hacking through flesh and the blood that soaked the earth. But even in the dark, even with half closed eyes she could still see the redness of it and she could still hear the pain of it in the cries of dying men.

"Hurry," her mother urged, grabbing Nessie's hand and running for the treeline.

Edithe took one last look at her home, crossing herself and making a silent prayer to God before her fingers wrapped around her dagger and she began to follow. Her mother's cloak served as a banner, leading her through the carnage until it began to fall to the floor, the motion slow like the wind falling from a ship's sail. She didn't see the plume of ochre velvet hit the dirt, she only saw the Northman with his bloodied axe, his hair fair but his eyes dark and both of them fixed on her. He grinned, his teeth shining white as if he was a murderous wolf while her sister crouched beside their mother, wailing like a child of five rather than a girl of thirteen.

Edithe took a step backwards and he advanced like she hoped he would. She called out, "run Nessie, run and hide," praying the sound of it carried to her sister's ear before following her own advice. She ran back towards the safety of her home, the heathen stalking her every step and the anticipation of being caught tingling along her spine.

When she slammed her front door closed, a sigh of relief filled her lungs before she forced the bar into place, hoping to buy enough time to escape through the tiny window at the rear of the house. She could hear the Northman banging against the wood, his battle cry heartstopping as she loosened her cloak to help her squeeze through the opening. The crack of the door beginning to split made her faster and with one final push she tumbled through the window, landing hard but safe in a pile on the floor.