God of War: Ashes of the Aesir

Tryg remembered the first time he had met a Valkyrie as if it had happened yesterday. Two of them had landed majestically in his village in Midgard, what seemed like a lifetime ago, calling him and his people to move to Asgard.

How happy Tryg had been with the summons, eager to see for himself the beautiful home of the Aesir, which had only ever been described in tales and songs. Yes, he had suspected the offer at the time — it was too good to be true, as Jorg would have said — but even so, he had been happy.

However, weeks later, his happiness had quickly been replaced by a corrosive resentment that still enraged him. A flame of hatred for the god who had deceived Midgardians like Tryg to use them as disposable pieces to delay the armies that sought the end of his reign. Part of Tryg’s hatred had faded, true. But a part of him still deeply resented the Aesir.

A people whose leader and god the Valkyries were extremely loyal to. Well, at least some of them were. Others, however, had fought against Odin during Ragnarök; Tryg had seen several of the Shield-Maidens fighting one another in the chaotic skies at the end of the world.

Unfortunately, Rist still seemed loyal to the All-Father. She probably would not have shown such reverence to Tryg, a young man with Aesir blood, if that were not the case. And that was a problem...

He forced himself to remain neutral, suppressing the urge to narrow his eyes and draw his sword. What would happen if Rist discovered the end of the Aesir’s reign? She did not seem to know that Odin and Asgard had fallen. Perhaps because, like him and the Einherjar prison, she had been transported to Niflheim during Ragnarök, but before it truly ended, with no idea of what had happened afterward. Would Rist calmly accept the end of her subservience to the All-Father? Or would she be furious to discover that her master had been defeated?

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rist,” he said, calm, extending a hand.

Rist nodded and shook his hand. “The honor is mine, Lord Trygve.”

He gave an awkward smile. “Please, call me Tryg.”

Tryg did not know what would happen if the truth were revealed. But he had a vague idea of what might happen if he lied to the Valkyrie and, eventually, she discovered the truth... Yeah, I’d be pretty angry if someone knew about the death of someone dear to me and didn’t tell me, he thought, sighing internally.

Tryg would need to tell the truth, and the sooner, the better. But...

Releasing her hand, he gave another brief glance at the sleeping fox. It would be risky to tell Rist the truth while Sinmara was helpless. Once she was able to defend herself, he would discuss the matter with his teacher and only then tell her.

I need to remember what the stories say about the Shield-Maidens. I hope it won’t be necessary, but if I need to fight Rist, then...

Tryg widened his eyes. For an instant, beset by worries, he had forgotten the main reason he was inside that insidious labyrinth — to discover a way to travel between the realms and, with that, return to his mother’s side and cure her with the truth about his father.

And the Valkyries... should be able to travel between realms, should they not? After all, besides being the most skilled and deadly warriors in Odin’s army — excluding the Aesir gods themselves, of course — they were responsible for separating those worthy and unworthy of entering Valhalla, traveling between realms, finding mortals near their deaths, and taking them to their respective destinations after death.

If that were true, then the Valkyries certainly had a way to travel between realms, since mortals did not live only in Midgard... This time, Tryg could not maintain his apathetic pretense. Excited by the prospect, he widened his eyes even more and held Rist’s hands. She drew back a little, stunned.

“You can travel between realms.” It was not a question. “You can get us out of here and take us to Midgard.”

Rist lowered her gaze, disappointed, and shook her head. “No, my lord. I cannot. Not anymore. I am sorry...”

Tryg’s shoulders fell slightly, and his heart, previously racing, began to slow. “What do you mean by ‘not anymore’?”

Still with her head lowered, she took a deep breath. Then, groaning and twisting her face in pain, she showed one of her majestic wings, reinforced by sharp pieces of golden metal. Her wing... was broken, bent at a very unnatural angle.

Tryg frowned, imagining how painful that could be. That must be why she was fighting without them against the ogre...

“Yes, we Valkyries can access certain Bifröst magics that allow us to move between the nine realms. But I injured my wings when I fell into this damned labyrinth. Without them...” She exhaled. “Well, without them, I am trapped here.”

Apparently, not everyone affected by Asgard’s fall had suffered in the same way. How many others had suffered because of it? How many had died...? He shook his head, shaking off his reverie.

Tryg did not let himself wither completely. There was still hope...

“What if I heal you, miss?” He opened his bag and showed her a few flasks of Idunn Fruit juice, ignoring the warning signs going off inside his mind. “Then you could take me to Midgard, right?”

Rist shook her head, still downcast, without looking at him. “Unfortunately, no. I can only take those who have already died with me, my lord. I cannot transport the living.”

Tryg withered a little more. But he still had one last idea. Remembering what Sinmara had told him about the color of his eyes, he asked:

“You said you use Bifröst magic to travel between realms... Could I learn it too?”

“I am not certain...” She looked back at him and continued, “I myself am unfamiliar with its use.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it surprises me that you do not know this, but...”

Rist withdrew her wings, groaning, making them disappear as if absorbed into her body. Then, with a more relieved expression, she turned her back to him and slid one hand through her hair, moving aside the golden waterfall that it was and revealing an opening in her armor that left part of her back bare.

There, dozens of intricate black tattoos wound down the warrior’s spine. Some were letters Tryg recognized from his own dialect, and interesting drawings. Others were words in ancient and strange languages that were beyond his knowledge.

“The magic we Valkyries use to access other realms is contained in these tattoos, not in our own knowledge. It is very specific, and I believe that, without our anatomy, it would be impossible for you to use it.”

Could Lady Sif’s tattoos have had a similar purpose? Could I learn some magic in the same way? Fascinated by the inscriptions, he placed the fingers of one hand on his chin and, with the other, touched them. For an instant, Rist shivered at his touch, and Tryg immediately pulled his hand away in response.

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They must hurt quite a bit for her to tremble like that... Wait, what is this?

There was some kind of grimy fabric wrapped around her body, passing over the tattoos... Tryg blushed and, immediately afterward, looked away and took one or two steps back. Now that he had stopped to think about it, aside from his mother, he had never before seen those parts... uncovered on a woman.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, embarrassed.

Rist shook her head and, still with her back to him, answered, “It is all right...”

Letting her hair down, she remained with her back turned for a moment. Tryg was grateful for that and took the moment to contain his racing heart.

Is it just me, or are her ears red? he thought, feeling his face flush. At first, I assumed Rist was much older, but... she actually seems pretty young. And she said she was the youngest of four sisters...

Tryg slapped his own cheeks, hard. Focus, he thought, feeling his face gradually stop burning. Rist finally turned around, surprised by the self-inflicted strike she had heard. She coughed a few times and then recovered her exemplary composure.

Fortunately, it did not take Tryg long to return to tranquility as well, to reality. And what a disheartening reality it was... Now that he knew how the Valkyries’ Bifröst magic worked, there was no longer any chance of him returning to Frida, not through Rist.

He let out a sigh, slightly saddened. At least there was still something the Valkyrie could do for him. Something quite important, by the way: send a message to his mother, warning her that he was alive, trapped in Niflheim, and that he needed help to return home. He no longer needed to depend on the ravens for that. In fact...

Didn’t they say they wanted me to rescue a wounded winged friend from inside the labyrinth? Could it be...? Yes, Rist must be the friend they were talking about.

Damn those little tricksters! Tryg could imagine each of the ethereal birds laughing at him in chorus.

In any case, sending the Valkyrie to deliver a message to Frida would be imprudent, especially if Hildisvíni and his allies were fulfilling the counselor’s promise, helping his mother and the other refugees from New Midgard. After all, he had no way of knowing how Rist would react outside when she realized the Aesir’s reign had fallen.

In truth, if Tryg was wrong, and Rist already knew about Odin’s fall and was still maintaining her loyalty to his people, then he definitely could not count on her help. Sending such a deadly and loyal warrior to his mother would be madness.

I need to tell her the truth soon and find out if—

A fierce growl. A furious, oppressive, freezing sensation that raised the hairs on his body and stiffened his shoulders. Then came a voice, imposing and cold, the kind no one would dare disagree with or disobey:

“Step away from him, Valkyrie.”

Surprised, Tryg immediately turned toward the sound and found the fox-queen awake. Sinmara was standing on all four paws, staring at Rist with a frightening and blazing gaze, her muzzle twisted with anger.

For an instant, Tryg was happy to see his teacher so alive, although she still seemed a little weakened. However, immediately afterward, his eyebrows shot up, and he quickly placed himself between the two women, extending his arms and making gestures for both of them to keep their distance.

Tryg had been so worried about the Valkyrie’s sudden revelation that he had not even thought about how the Queen of Niflheim, Surtr’s only love, would react when she woke and came face-to-face with one of Odin’s deadliest and most loyal servants.

Sinmara had nearly killed Tryg when they first met merely because of the colors of his eyes, which reminded her of the Aesir. If he did not do something soon, she certainly would... Hel, he didn't even want to think about what she might do.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he said, staring at his teacher. “Miss Rist here is an ally.”

“Move aside, young man,” Sinmara replied, harsh. “You cannot trust her kind.”

Tryg bit his lips.

“If I may ask,” Rist said behind him, crossing her arms, “who are you to claim that? Or better yet, what are you?”

His eyebrows shot up. If Sinmara answered that question...

“No—”

“I am someone you should not meddle with,” the queen interrupted him, without shifting her sharp gaze away from the Valkyrie. “Go away, Maiden, and leave us in peace.”

Tryg exhaled, relieved, both because she had not revealed her own name and because she apparently did not want to kill Rist... for now, at least.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t go anywhere,” Rist retorted, taking a step forward with her fists clenched. “I won’t abandon this young lord with a creature as suspicious as you. As far as I know, you’re the one deceiving him, fox.”

“That is the nature of your people, not mine.”

“Stop, please,” Tryg said in a louder tone. “Let’s all calm down.”

“What do you have against me?” Rist asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion... and anger. She indicated Tryg with her head. “What do you have against our people?”

Shit, he thought. He wanted so badly to lie, but he had already established that such a path would only lead to the Valkyrie’s hatred. Because of that, Tryg’s throat locked, not knowing which words to force out.

Sinmara, on the other hand, had her answer on the tip of her tongue:

“Besides the fact that most of you are liars, unjust, and cruel, just like your leader? Nothing, my dear. I have nothing against you.”

Rist frowned, her tired, dirty face reddening like the sky at twilight. She touched her daggers, sheathed at her back, and bent her knees, preparing to attack.

“I can’t allow you to blaspheme the All-Father in front of me. Take back what you said, fox, and this time, I’ll let it pass.”

Sinmara blinked and simply replied:

“No.”

Rist drew her daggers and took a swift step forward.

“Enough!” Tryg shouted, placing himself in the Valkyrie’s path.

He touched the pommel of his sword with one hand and, with the other, made a gesture toward Rist’s face, telling her to stop. And she did, planting her boots in the snow, almost crashing into him. Then she lifted her gaze and stared at him with confusion and exasperation.

“What are you doing, sir? She—”

“Enough. I don’t want to hear your voice anymore.”

Rist swallowed hard and shrank a little.

“Young man—”

“Yours either, teacher,” he interrupted her, looking over his shoulder with a frown. Sinmara blinked, surprised.

Tryg was stunned by himself as well. He had not expected to react in such an incisive and rude way with either of the two women. However, amid the desperation of a future brutal battle that would undoubtedly lead to Rist’s death, his emotions had exploded, and his body had acted on its own, taking the only alternative he had judged capable of preventing the massacre that would unfold from there.

Tryg reproached himself a little for shouting at Rist and, especially, at Sinmara. After having been so ungrateful to her after his clash against the Raven Keeper, he certainly did not want to treat her in any minimally similar way. But he also did not want Rist to die. And he did not want his teacher to be forced to use more of her magic.

Thus, as bad as he felt about himself, at least he would preserve both their lives.

He made his voice even firmer and, turning his head between Rist and Sinmara, continued, “Rist, this fox has saved my life more times than I can count. Teacher, this Valkyrie just helped me defeat that ogre while you were unconscious and defenseless. If you trust me even slightly, and if you, Miss Rist, value your loyalty to our people so much, then neither of you is going to start trying to kill the other before you at least talk. Is that clear?”

The two remained silent for a moment, Sinmara with her vulpine brows raised at Tryg, and Rist staring at him with a mixture of confusion, anger and, at the same time, shame.

The Valkyrie nodded and sheathed her blades. “Very well,” she said, and then crossed her arms and glared daggers at the fox. “But let my opinion be clear: you should not trust this creature.”

The queen took a few steps and placed herself beside him. “I say the same to you, young man, about that woman. Still, I will restrain myself for now.”

Then she answered the Valkyrie’s furious glare with one of her own, the same one that had made Tryg tremble when he first met her, and concluded through her teeth:

“But dare touch so much as a strand of hair on his head, Maiden, and I swear yours will roll next.”

The wrinkles on Rist’s face deepened, her fists still clenched.

Tryg sighed, relieved by the truce. Then he smiled. Even if Rist handled the truth well, he still foresaw that making those two live in the same space would be truly exhausting. Still, he had to admit that his teacher’s reactions were, in a way, making him quite happy.

“Teacher, could I speak with you alone?” he asked, staring at her.

She nodded and began to walk away. “Of course.”

“Excuse me, Miss Rist,” he said, and followed Sinmara. The Valkyrie nodded as well.

That fragile peace was better than nothing. For now, it would be enough to create some distance between the two and stop one from killing the other.

But Tryg knew that continuing to lie to Rist was not an option. She needed to know about Odin, about Asgard, about the end of the reign to which she still seemed so loyal, if she did not already know. Whatever the case, he would probably need to reason with the Valkyrie and be very convincing so she would not become an enemy.

In any case, before all that, Tryg needed to discuss it with Sinmara, since several of the facts he wanted to reveal directly involved Sinmara, which could make her a target.

He sighed again. I just hope I can convince them not to attack each other, and soon... Wasting too much time with all of this would not be good.