COF 33

 The darkness that settled over the forest was broken up by fire, controlled flames spread out across the land, casting the woods in a soft orange glow. The warriors of Asgard stayed close to the burning wood piles, careful to avoid straying near the shadowed edges of the woods. Those who were foolish enough to venture near the heart of darkness soon vanished with wild screams, being lost to vampire fangs.

No, night was not a friend to the Asgardians, leaving them on constant guard against foes who were well equipped to do battle in total darkness. But they had little choice in the matter, knowing when the sun would start to rise, the vampires would flee, turning tail and escaping to their castle. It was then that the einherjar did the most damage, swiftly attacking their rear, plunging swords into unprotected backs, flaming arrows quick to strike and incinerate the undead fiends.

But for most of the battle, they were forced to defend themselves, stand tense and ready as they waited for the vampires to grow impatient and come to their waiting blades. The vampires were a crafty lot, sending howling wolves and screeching bats to attack the einherjar, to lure them away from the safety of their fires. Some were foolish enough to fall for the attack, bats swirling about their head, blinding them, driving them close to the waiting fiends. Others stood their ground, calmly cutting down the foul beasts, littering the ground around them with small winged bodies.

The wolves were harder to take care of, their large furred bodies agile and quick, snapping jaws closing around arms and legs. But they too fell, slowly but surely, and the blood they had drawn lured less inexperienced vampires into the light. Those who could not resist the call of spilt blood were quickly dispatched by the einherjar, bodies decapitated and thrown onto the bonfire’s logs.

Mages stood behind the front lines, casting spells, sending out more fire, trying to increase the amount of land that belong to the einherjar. As the fire balls touched down on darkened plains, the vampires screamed and scattered, shying away from the light. They moved slow enough, the einherjar rushing forward intent on claiming more land, intent on stealing away the fiends’ unnatural lives.

Some vampires turned and snarled, wanting to fight, slashing claws against armored fronts. Most ran, preferring the cover of darkness, letting those who stayed behind die to save their own hides. The vampires abandoning all sense of camaraderie when it came to self preservation, knowing it was the course of nature to let the weak die out.

And through it all, the two sides battled on, neither one gaining an advantage for very long. They were too evenly matched, too limited by the light of day, and the dark of night. It was a frustrating, slow battle, the einherjar growing unsettled and bored, the vampire’s thirst going unquenched for the most part. They couldn’t even leave the island to feast elsewhere, forced to stay and do battle. It was only a matter of time before their hunger for blood drove them to make mistakes, caused the vampires to abandon the darkness, and face the einherjar head on.

Most of the Gods were scattered among the battle field, Eir with her priestesses, mages who were field medics, tending to the injured. So far there had been little for her and her worshippers to do, the vampires not releasing their victims until they had been thoroughly drained of blood, leaving a body behind that was riddled with teeth marks. Tyr and Thor worked side by side, the Storm Lord’s lightning bolds illuminated the area, striking and incinerating vampire flesh. Tyr was on top of his steed, laughing wildly, enjoying the battle greatly. His body and sword were decorated with blood, the God needing only one strike to lop off the heads of his undead foes.

Erda stood back from the battle, a scowl on her face, as she concentrated, causing the ground to open up beneath sections of Brahm’s army. When she clasped her hands together with a resounding clap, the land slammed together, resealing itself close before the vampires could fly to safety. The boy God Ull was with her, bow and arrows drawn, scouting the darkness anxiously, guarding Erda from any sneak attacks. Arrow after arrow flew, bow strings twanging loudly in the wake of their flight.

Other lesser Gods were also out on the field, some standing back to back with einherjar, lending their strength and power to the battle. Ether glowed, casting unnatural light in the darkness, balls of it being hurled towards the vampire fiends.

Brahms had yet to put in an appearance, staying safe behind his castle walls. Surely the Vampire Lord watched this battle with keen amusement, knowing the time would come when he would have to step forth and fight. He could have ended the war right then and there, coming out of his castle to issue a challenge to one of the gathered Aesir. And yet he didn’t, preferring to let them tire themselves out on his minions.

The sky was beginning to lighten, a rooster crowing out a warning greeting to the sun. Another day was about to arrive, and with a grumble the vampires began backing away. The einherjar let out whooping war cries, running forward, swinging their weapons wildly with deadly intent. Axes slammed into backs, swords went through wind pipes, vampires falling left and right as they tried to escape.

The sun peered over the mountain tops of Lassan, looming large and deadly to the vampires who did not make it back in time to Brahms’ castle. They died, their bodies set aflame by the light of the sun, hands held out in supplication towards their master’s castle. And little by little, the Asgardians marched on, claiming more ground, pressing closer to the castle that was fading away in their midst.

Some of the einherjar set to the task of cutting down trees, preparing more wood for the night’s upcoming bonfires. Others settled down for a much needed rest, some slumping to their knees right where they stood, eyes closing, a snore emitting from their lips. Rest was a luxury not afforded to the Gods, the Aesir leaving the field to reconvene in one of the more luxurious tents.

It was roomy, with cushions all around, and iron poles holding up the heavy canvas material. Erda slumped gratefully onto a stack of cushions, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. The Goddess of the Earth was not used to this constant exertion of her powers, having had little reason to wrack Midgard with earthquakes in the past. “How much longer must we fight?!” She demanded angrily.

“Erda, you know as well as I do that these things cannot be solved so easily.” Thor said, leaning against a heavy oak table. Tyr stood in front of it, hands splayed across a map, eyes intent on the wax figurines that lay scattered across the table top. His hands reached forward, moving some of the figurines, easing them closer to the castle.

“More of the land is reclaimed by us.” Tyr announced with a smile. “The minions of the vampire, the creatures they call are not enough to keep us from advancing.”

“It’s still taking too much time.” complained Erda. “Can’t we work the einherjar harder, force them to go without sleep and surround the castle this very day?”

“Erda!” Eir had entered the tent, dismay on her face. “Surely you would not weaken our forces so. They need their sleep if they are to win this war.”

“Hmph!” Erda crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. “I think the war would already be over if Hrist and Vidar had not abandoned us to go on their fool’s errand.”

“They were meant to only be gone a day.” Thor was frowning. “Surely something important must have delayed them.” Unspoken was the thought that he hoped they hadn’t been right about Asgard being left open to an attack.

“You want to know what I think?” asked Erda.

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell us anyway.” Tyr said with a sigh.

Erda ignored his glib manner. “I think Hrist is too frightened to face Brahms. Surely she flees even as we speak, intent on letting us do her dirty work for her.”

“The lady Hrist is not now, nor has she ever been a coward.” Ull spoke up, face flushing with heat. Erda turned to stare at him, eyes narrowed in anger, but the young God did not take back his opinion.

“We all know Hrist would be here if she could.” Eir said. “She has hungered for this battle for centuries. Something must be keeping her.” The sound of a throat clearing outside the tent’s flap garnered their attention. “Enter.” called out Eir, watching as a man with gleaming blue hair entered the tent. His eyes were a myriad of colors, changing from green to blue to purple, never staying one color for very long. It was Kvasir, the God of Inspiration who approached them now.

“I have word from Lady Hrist and Lord Vidar.” Kvasir said, kneeling before the gathered Gods.

“Speak.” ordered Thor.

“An einherjar has arrived. A mage named Lorenta. She…” He hesitated, fearing their anger. “She was only brought to my attention just now.”

“What is the message she brings?” asked Thor impatiently.

“Nifleheim has attacked Asgard.” Kvasir said, to the loud gasps in the room. “Lady Hrist does battle as we speak, but it is not going well. She is in dire need of reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements we cannot spare.” Tyr said with a frown.

“Not even to save our home?” asked Eir, shock on her face.

“To spare even one warrior could mean the death of the rest of our einherjar.” Tyr replied. “We would be fools to divide our forces any further.”

“I must agree.” said Thor. “We are already feeling the strain on this battle…we cannot burden ourselves any further.”

“But it’s our home!” Eir protested. “Would you really let it be overrun by Nifleheim’s monsters?!”

“I would not but…” Thor sighed. “We are under orders from Lord Odin himself to wage this war with Brahms. Unless he gives us the command to retreat, we must see things out here first.”

Erda’s scowl deepened. “We risk losing our home for Odin’s vendetta!”

“Lady Hrist was right…” whispered Ull. “We were fools to leave Asgard so undefended.”

Thor gave Ull a sharp look, but otherwise ignored the boy God. “I suppose we could try to speed up this war, force the einherjar to get less sleep to cover more ground…” He turned to look at Tyr. “How much ground can we cover then?”

“Still not enough…” Tyr was frowning, looking at the map. “The vampires are too many, and the terrain is unfriendly to our advances. We are still looking at a long siege, even if we do get to the castle.”

“Blast it all!” Thor muttered, pounding a fist against the table’s top. Figures toppled over and rolled from the force of his blow.

“I do not look forward to fighting one war on top of another…” Eir said quietly.

“Neither do I.” admitted Thor. “But what else can we do? We must…” His voice was drowned out, cries from outside the tent alerting him to something strange going on.

“The einherjar are excited about something…” noted Eir, with a rise of her eyebrows. She could sense power on the air, immense and pressing, gathering up outside the tent.

“Ull, go see what it is.” ordered Erda, sitting up straight on her cushion.

“Yes m’lady.” Ull nodded and headed for the tent’s sole exit. He lifted up the tent flap, and light flooded into the tent, the Aesir crying out, lifting their hands to shield their eyes.

“Close it! Close it!” screeched Erda, eyes shut tight against the white glow of power. With a cry Ull obeyed, backing away from the flap. And still the light poured in, starkly illuminating the canvas walls, casting the Gods in a spotlight of power.

“Is it Odin?” breathed out Eir. “Does he come to advise us at long last?” One last flare of power, and then all was calm except for the einherjar, their voices raised in worship and supplication. The sound of armor hitting the ground followed, einherjar falling to their knees, bowing their heads as they gazed upon the source of that light. The Gods slowly crowded around the tent flap, peering out into the battlefield. A swarm of einherjar blocked their view, hiding who or what had arrived.

“Let us through.” It was a woman who spoke, voice commanding.

“Freya!” recognized Thor.

“It is about time she got here.” Erda said stiffly, not realizing the Goddess of Fertility wasn’t capable of the amount of power they had felt just moments ago. The sea of einherjar parted, colorful armor moving aside to reveal a small group of people. There was Gods among them, four in all, but one of them radiated the most power, shining with an iridescent light of purity.

“Lady Lenneth!” gasped out Eir, amazed to see her.

Lenneth smiled, a joyful expression in her eyes. “It is good to see you Eir…even under such circumstances.”

“Hrist?!” Thor did a double take, having taken his eyes of the silver haired Goddess. “But what of Valhalla? I thought Asgard was in danger?”

“The battle for the shining realm is over with.” Hrist answered, turning to cast a side long glance at her sister. “Lenneth returned to us none too soon, turning the tide of battle. Much like we hope to do here.”

“There is much we must tell you…and little time to do it in.” Lenneth strode forth, einherjar reaching out to touch her sides, to take hold of her hair. She ignored these worshipful touches, moving forward brusquely. The Aesir backed up, allowing the Goddess to enter their tent. The other Gods, and the three einherjar that accompanied them also crowded into the tent, taking up positions against the canvas walls, and settling in on the cushions.

“The first thing I must tell you is this. Odin is no more.” Lenneth said, and the Gods began to protest this, voices loud with dismay. She held up a hand, expression grim. “Do not mourn for the former Lord of the Gods. He does not deserve your sympathies.”

“But Lenneth, how can you say such a thing?” demanded Eir with a frown.

“Because it’s the truth!” The God with brown hair, and black wings spoke up, a hint of anger in his voice.

“I’m sorry, and you are?” asked Eir, looking him over from head to toe.

“Lezard Valeth.” He gave a mocking half bow, not bothering to announce his title.

“How do we know Lord Odin is really dead?” asked Erda, eyeing Lenneth with suspicion. “This could just be some ploy of yours to reclaim your throne, trick us into siding with you against his orders.”

“Proof?” Lenneth drew back, staring at the Earth Goddess. “It is proof you are after?” Her hands began to glow, ether swirling around them as she closed her fingers into a fist. The light spread out, going in both directions, taking on the form of a double bladed lance. “Does this answer your questions?” She demanded as the sacred spear Gungnir appeared in her hands.

“Blessed be!” exclaimed Ull and Eir, and they bowed their heads in acknowledgment of the divine lance.

“May I?” asked Thor, approaching the Goddess. Lenneth nodded her head, allowing the Storm Lord to place his hand a top of the sacred spear. It hummed with power, responding to Thor’s caress, and with a gasp he drew back, nodding. “It is the real thing. Gungnir is before us.”

“Odin would not give up his weapon to anyone were he still alive.” Tyr spoke, his expression grave. “That you wield it speaks much of what has happened.”

“But how did he die?” asked Erda, staring at the lance. “Was it done protecting Valhalla?”

Hrist surprised them all with her laughter. “Forgive me…” She said mirth still dancing in her eyes. “But that is a laughable idea.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Erda…” Hrist fixed her with a level stare. “Odin was behind the attack on our home.” This got an immediate reaction from the Gods.

“What?!” bellowed Thor. “Impossible!”

“Odin would never lift a finger against the shining realm.” added Eir.

“He did, and he paid the price for such folly.” Freya spoke up. “Odin was truly mad, seeking to align himself with Nifleheim’s Queen. He was all too prepared to let Asgard be invaded by her monsters.”

“This war with Brahms, this sham, was meant merely to distract us.” Hrist said angrily. “To get us out of Asgard, while he allowed Nifleheim’s army to get into place.” She shook her head, a fierce glare on her face. “We were never meant to face Brahms, to save Silmeria. It was all lies!”

The Aesir exchanged glances, unsettled by her anger. “If it was all lies, what now?” asked Tyr. “Do we abandon the fight with Brahms? Do we flee the field, leaving him to think he has won some small victory over us?” The pursing of his lips said the God clearly did not like the thought of handing Brahms an easy win.

All eyes turned to Lenneth, watching as the Goddess strode forward to the table. She glanced down at the map, fingers stroking one of the toppled wax figurines. “I have come to put a stop to this war.”

“So we flee then?” Tyr asked, frown deepening.

“You misunderstand my meaning.” Lenneth shook her head. “No we stay…we fight if necessary. However…” She was moving figurines aside, clearing a path to the castle. “First I mean to have a talk with Brahms.”

“About Silmeria?” asked Freya knowingly.

Lenneth nodded. “Yes. He can’t be allowed to keep her any longer.”

“What if he doesn’t want to hand her over?” asked Lezard.

“Then we fight.” Hrist spoke up, eager for this battle.

Lenneth sighed, but nodded her head in agreement. “It might be the only way.”

“I’m going with you Lenneth.” It was not a request but an order that came from Hrist’s lips.

Lenneth stared at her sister, seeing her eyes dark with challenge. She nodded then. “Fine. I would not take away your chance at revenge.” Hrist nodded her head, pleased by her sister’s words. “We should move out immediately.” Lenneth added. “I want to get as close to the castle as possible before night falls.”

“I shall ready the einherjar at once.” Tyr said, stepping away from the table.

“Do that.” nodded Lenneth, watching as the Gods began to leave the tent, pausing only long enough to cast brief bows in her direction. When the tent flap closed, Lenneth let out a heavy sigh, sinking to the cushions abandoned by Erda. Lezard hurried to her side, hovering over her solicitously.

“Do you think the Vampire Lord will listen to you?” He asked, reaching forward to stroke her hair.

Lenneth smiled, leaning into his touch. “I don’t know…I hope so…I would like to end this war without any more loss of life.” She reached up, touching his hand, urging him to sit next to her. Hrist let out an angry snort at this.

“I think I will go help Tyr with his appointed task.” She said, disapproval evident in her eyes.

“May I offer my assistance Lady Hrist?” asked Lucian, disgusted at the small display of affection between Lenneth and Lezard.

“Yes, you may.” The Dark Valkyrie nodded, turning to leave, Lucian quick behind her.

“I will go speak to the other Gods…” Freya announced, picking up Gungnir. “It is better they hear from someone who witnessed the events of Odin’s betrayal and demise, rather than from the rumor mill.”

“Yes…” Lenneth nodded in agreement, watching as Freya teleported out of the tent. That left only Lezard and the two remaining einherjar with her.

“Um…” Mystina was speaking up, fingers nervous on her Unicorn Horn. “I think I hear Hrist calling our names…”

“Funny, I don’t hear anything…” Arngrim said with a frown, cocking his head to the side. She gave him a look, and his eyes widened in realization. “Oh! Oh yeah…now I hear it too…”

“Excuse us Lady Lenneth…” A frown in the necromancer’s direction. “Lezard.” The two einherjar hurried out of the tent, and Lezard smiled brightly at Lenneth.

“Alone at last…” He said, sliding an arm across her shoulders, cuddling her close against the side of his body.

“Yes…” Lenneth let out a morose sounding sigh. “They couldn’t wait to get away from us…”

“Does it really matter why they left, so long as they are gone?” Lezard wondered out loud, reaching with his other hand to take hold of Lenneth’s wrist. His fingers caressed her skin, attempting to soothe her with a touch.

“It does to me.” She said at last. “I know not many approve of our relationship…” Another sigh from her. “That number of nay sayers is only bound to increase once the other Aesir learn just who you are.”

“We’ll get through this.” Lezard said confidently. “I’ll win them over with my charm, much like I did you.” That brought brief laughter from Lenneth, and she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

“Would that they could see you like I do…” She whispered. “That you are not a bad person…”

“No…I think they’re right to fear me. I am…I mean I was a very bad man.” He smiled then at her frown. “I hope to be a better person now that I have your love, to become a good and just God.” He raised her hand to his lips, brushing his mouth across her knuckles. “You’ll just have to teach me how…”

“Is goodness something that can be taught…” Lenneth wondered out loud, watching as he let go of her hand, reaching instead to stroke her cheek with his fingers.

“We’ll just have to try it and see…” Lezard said, leaning in closer to her, his breath blowing against the curly wisps of hair that framed her face. “But whatever happens, we’ll make it work…I know we will…”

“But what if love isn’t enough…” She started to whisper, and his thumb found her lip, tenderly stroking her mouth.

“Shhh…” Lezard said, inching his face closer to hers. “Don’t let worry eat away at you…don’t let it cause you to doubt us…not now…Not after everything we’ve been through together.” He dropped his hand, replacing it with his mouth, claiming her lips for his own. Lenneth made soft noises of surrender, happy sighs against him as she wound her arms around his neck, squeezing as close as possible to him.

Deepening the kiss, Lezard started to ease Lenneth back against the cushions, causing her to lie flat underneath him. His hands wound in her hair, holding her trapped against his mouth, tongue flickering out to meet hers. “Lezard…” She got out in between kisses, biting back a moan. “Should we really be doing this now…?” His answer was to kiss down the front of her throat, causing her to gasp and let out a giggle. Perhaps. She thought, fingers brushing against the hair on the nape of his neck. Even on the battlefield, there was time for love to flourish.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The doors to Brahm’s throne room slammed open, the magenta haired vampire known as Vestigan storming into the room. He didn’t bother to look to the left or to the right of him, eyes fixed straight ahead. He was unsurprised to see Brahms with his back to him, the dark haired vampire standing before Silmeria’s crystal. Vestigan did not need to see his face to know the vampire’s eyes would be wistful, full of longing as he gazed on the imprisoned beauty.

“All you ever do is stare at Silmeria.” Vestigan complained out loud. He saw Brahms tense, but the vampire remained in place, not bothering to turn around. He frowned, drawing close to his master. “It’s undignified…this…obsession you have with the Valkyrie.” Still nothing from Brahms. “If you were smart…” Vestigan was almost within touching distance of the Vampire Lord. “You would kill her now…drain her, taking her power for your own. Then maybe you could end this war before any more of our…”

His voice suddenly cut off, a meaty fist round his neck, lifting Vestigan off the ground. His feet dangled, his hands coming up to claw at the hand that crushed his windpipe, struggling to be free.

“Do you dare tell me what to do Vestigan?” Brahms asked calmly, still gazing on Silmeria’s beauty.

“Ngh…”

“What was that?” He shook the vampire, hearing him gasp and wheeze.

“No…” choked Vestigan in denial. “For…Forgive me Lord Brahms…I spoke out of turn…”

“Hmph…” His fingers tightened around his throat for a second, and then Brahms was letting go of him, flinging Vestigan across the room. The vampire slammed into the wall, cracks appearing in the plaster as he fell to the floor. “How goes the battle?” asked Brahms. “What is our progress?!”

“The Asgardians draw near to the castle by day but at night…at night we still hold the land, forcing them back, bit by bit.” answered Vestigan, his voice a mere croak as his throat healed.

“And yet they still continue to make inroads against us.” mused Brahms. “Little by little, even with all the setbacks my undead children cause them, they still march ever closer to my home.”

“Our forces grow hungry for blood.” added Vestigan. “They are not getting enough sustenance from the Asgardians they managed to capture. It won’t be long before they grow careless from hunger if they are not allowed to feed.” He slowly stood up. “My Lord…we must end this battle before that happens.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” demanded Brahms angrily. Vestigan was silent, the picture of stern disapproval. “Perhaps a small party of vampires can be sent out to fetch humans from Lassan.” The Vampire Lord mused.

“The Gods won’t allow it.” Vestigan shook his head. “Surely they are relying on dragging out the fight to their advantage.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” answered Brahms. “Still no sign of Hrist on the battlefield?”

“No.”

“How strange…” murmured Brahms. He finally glanced away from Silmeria, taking a step towards the windows. Eternal night showed in the glass, the castle safe in the dimension it took shelter in during the day. Brahms place his palm on the window, peering intently, sensing the castle was preparing to make the jump back to Midgard. “I sense something…”

“My Lord?”

“I sense a change has happened…something comes to the battle field…something powerful…” Brahms growled out.

“Would this something be on our side?” asked Vestigan without much hope.

“I cannot say.” Brahms replied, watching as the darkness outside his window began to waver and distort, changing from oil blackness to the dull twilight of the moon first rising. Slowly, he saw the forest appear, trees showing up one by one, lit up by the Asgardians’ bonfires. He squinted, his keen vampire eyes making out the number of warriors who advanced ever closer to his castle. “It seems our foes were busy during the day.”

Vestigan approached, drawing near to the window. He gasped to see the Asgardians so close to the castle. “We must lower the drawbridge at once!” He snarled, hands curling into claws. “Our forces must do battle, drive them back immediately.”

“Perhaps…” Brahms was staring at something, seemingly fascinated by a light that was moving across the battlefield. It illuminated the area with a soft, ethereal glow, moving forward slowly but surely.

“What is that?!” Vestigan cried out, panicked. “Odin?!” He too was watching the glow, fighting not to close his eyes against the near blinding light.

“No…” Brahms allowed a smile to cross his face, as he let out a soft growl. “It’s Lenneth…”