Mickey Reichert - Flight of the Renshai

Calistin laughed awkwardly, taken aback by the whole situation. It seemed impossible that he was sharing a guilty grandson moment with an immortal from Asgard.

Colbey's expression turned serious again in an instant. "I felt caught in the ultimate unwinnable situation. The more I tried to die in battle, the more I honed my craft. And the more skilled I got, the less likely anyone could kill me in battle. I seemed destined to die of age or illness, a coward's death, yet even those things seemed in no hurry to take me."

Now the parallel came together for Calistin. "The god blood you carried aged you slower."

"So far, Odin's decree has proved correct. My soul has not entered Valhalla, because I haven't died. Odin did not expect me to get this far. He intended to kill me centuries ago." Colbey glanced at the sky, and those predatory eyes gained a glint of pure evil. Clearly, he delved into memories so intense he would not share them. "Things did not work out that way. And I have been to Valhalla, many times, though only as a visitor."

"My mother visited Valhalla, too." Realizing how obvious that sounded, Calistin amended. "Before she died, I mean." He looked intently at Colbey, needing confirmation of the story. He had never doubted it until now, when nothing about his family seemed real anymore.

"Twice," Colbey confirmed. "She remains the only mortal to do so while alive. What you don't know is that the Einherjar invited her to remain with them, a situation the Valkyries abhorred but could do absolutely nothing about. At the time, Kevral believed her soul lost, not yours."

Under any circumstance, it was the greatest thing that could ever happen to a Renshai. Given the chance, Calistin would accept the opportunity in an instant, without a single thought. His heart pounded as he imagined battling the bravest warriors throughout history, day in and day out for eternity. Lacking a soul became meaningless so long as he remained alive. And, if someone managed to kill him, it would be worth the time he had had, even if only a morning.

Colbey clearly knew exactly where Calistin's mind had gone. He added softly, "They even promised to pull any lethal blows they might manage to land, to keep her alive and soulless there forever."

Calistin sighed at the perfection of it. "No chance on Asgard, Midgard, or any other world could match it. What could be more perfect?"

"An' yet…" Treysind spoke his first words in so long Calistin had forgotten the boy remained with them. "… she dint stay."

It made no sense to Calistin, "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Colbey made a gesture at Treysind, urging silence. He wanted Calistin to answer the question.

Calistin considered several moments but could find no answer. Nothing could top the Einherjar's offer. No sane Renshai would refuse it, especially one who had no other means to get there. He shook his head, pondered the situation a bit longer, then shook his head again. "I don't know." He thought about the time line: after the bite of the spirit spider but before… before what? He sought an important clue. "Was I born yet?"

"Still inside."

Calistin gasped at the vast magnificence of his next thought. If Kevral had accepted the Einherjar's gift, he would have been born in Valhalla. Raised and trained by the best swordsmen in the world, he would have known no other world but the heaven to which every Renshai, every truly great warrior, aspires. Were he not already sitting, he might have collapsed. "There could be no greater reward, no better life, than one from birth to afterlife in Valhalla."

"Perhaps," Colbey said, the word a Renshai sacrilege, at best. "But then, what would a hopeful young warrior have to strive for? History has shown that children raised with every whim indulged learn to appreciate… nothing."

Calistin supposed Colbey spoke truth. His mother quoted him so often, so enthusiastically, that the boys learned to accept his every word as profound scripture. Yet it seemed utterly impossible that anyone could tire of Valhalla. After all, the Einherjar spent eternity there, and they were the most content beings in any world. "Why?" he sputtered out, more in anger than curiosity. "Why did she refuse? Why?"

Colbey frowned, then turned his attention to Treysind. The boy raised and lowered his skinny shoulders, an expression that begged tolerance on his face. Colbey shook his head, lips pursing in clear exasperation. "She had a set of infant twins who needed their mother and her guidance. She had a man who loved her enough to die for her. In fact, he would surrender his life today if he had any reason to believe it would bring her back."

Calistin did not think anything Colbey said could vex him further, but that managed. "That's stupid. He knows she's in Valhalla."

"Does he?"

"How could he not?"

"Because, like all pure mortals without swords imbued with magic, Ra-khir doesn't see Valkyries. He's not even entirely certain Kevral didn't lose her soul to the spirit spider. Not a day has passed since her death that he has not begged me for a sign, anything to reassure him that Kevral found Valhalla and is happy."

"You see my father every day?"

Treysind rolled his eyes. "He's meanin' through prayers, ya rock-dense moron."

Every eye jerked to the Erythanian, who turned a brilliant shade of red and feigned a sudden interest in cleaning up the meal.

Colbey smiled. "I mean through prayer, you rock-dense moron. He begs me through prayer."

Calistin felt as if he floated above the clearing, detached and confused. He had heard all he could handle for one day. Tact and logic, never his strong suits, fled entirely from his repertoire. "So why are you torturing him? Why don't you tell him?"

Colbey must have realized that his charge had reached his limit, because he accepted, without comment, the disrespectful question in addition to the tone of voice. "Because, Calistin, the denizens of Asgard have more important things to do than interact with mortals. It is the job of Ra-khir's sons to comfort their father, to put his mind at ease, to point out what they already know as indisputable fact."

"Saviar…" Calistin started, thinking back to when they left Erythane. Saviar had insisted they not awaken Ra-khir. At the time, Calistin had known it was the wrong thing to do, knew it would crush Ra-khir to find his sons missing; but Calistin had trusted his older, wiser brother. Only now, he realized Saviar's irritation and impatience with their father's grief had caused them both to mistreat him terribly. "Saviar said… and I thought…" Calistin could not remember the last time he found tears in his eyes. "We were cruel."

"Yes."

"To someone we profess to love."

"Yes."

Calistin could no longer control the exhaustion that pressed him to the ground. He believed the swirl of thought and emotion that battered him would keep him awake all night but found himself asleep so fast he remembered nothing more.

Saviar stroked through an awkward parody of yrtventrig, holding the last pose hopefully while Subikahn paced in an angry circle around him.

"No! No! No!" Subikahn knew his own frustration had to mirror Saviar's. It pained him to see Saviar's discomfort so plainly displayed. Maneuvers he had once performed to near-perfection had become tight and graceless. "Where's the fluidity? Where's the power?"

"It's coming," Saviar promised.

Subikahn nodded stiffly. He could not deny that Saviar had improved to a great extent in one short week, regaining more than half of his strength, a hefty dose of stamina, and most of his agility. Still, it drove Subikahn near to madness to see his capable brother forced to regain lost ground rather than progressing toward ever more significant achievements. "Again!"