Mickey Reichert: Flight of the Renshai

"Calistin,"Valr Magnus said sternly, but even he knew better than to step within Calistin's reach.

Then, Calistin saw the Valkyrie, and his blood ran cold. Randgrithr, Shieldbearer. He knew her name just as he had Hildr's, the Valkyrie who had accompanied his mother to Valhalla. For Valr Magnus? Calistin thought he had heard the general's living voice, but the Valkyrie must have come for someone brave, someone who had died in glorious combat. He glanced past Treysind's body to the Aeri general. The Northman's mail hung in strips, revealing a heaving well-muscled chest, and the entire left side of his body was smeared scarlet. He stood in clear awe, his blue eyes wide, his jaw drooping, and his nostrils flared. Slowly, he collapsed to one knee, not from pain or fatigue, but in a gesture of overwhelming respect.

An insubstantial image of Treysind stood beside the boy's ravaged body, talking earnestly and softly with Randgrithr. Then, suddenly, they both turned toward Calistin.

Instinctively, Calistin raised his sword. He knew he looked a fright, covered from the tips of his hair to his toes in sticky, giant's blood and sweat, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. Sparing him barely a glance, the Valkyrie turned back to Treysind's soul, her gestures broad and irate. Then, she let her hands fall in obvious defeat, sighed, and nodded.

Treysind's body remained where it had fallen, but the image of him at Randgrithr's side flew at Calistin like an angry wraith. Startled, Calistin kept his sword in battle position, but the image only dissipated like a loose sand sculpture in the wind. Warmth suffused Calistin, so vast and sudden he was seized with the urge to strip off his clothing and leap into the ocean. A new rush of sweat further slicked his every part. Then, as quickly as the fire had flared, it disappeared. A breeze from the ocean whipped his damp limbs into gooseflesh.

The Valkyrie raised her arms to leave, but Calistin caught one, jerking her to face him.

Randgrithr turned and glared at Calistin. "What do you want, Calistin Ra-khirsson?" She made a gesture to indicate the body-strewn beach. "A war of this magnitude is not enough for you? You want at me, too?"

Calistin did not seek a battle this time, but he would gladly fight her if she wished it or refused him the information he craved. "You came for Treysind?"

The Valkyrie regarded Calistin. "He died in brave and glorious combat. He gave himself for you. Twice." She shook her head. "I'm not at all sure you're worth it."

Calistin gritted his teeth at the insult but did not otherwise react. He could not imagine any Einherjar would prefer Treysind over him as an opponent. Yet the Valkyries clearly saw the world differently than their charges. Or, at least, this one did. "I saved his life, too."

The Valkyrie's brows rose over pale eyes, and a thick wad of yellow hair escaped her helmet. "Perhaps. But you did not give him… everything."

Startled, Calistin back stepped. "What?"

In that moment, Randgrithr raised her hands again and disappeared in a golden flash of light.

Valr Magnus rose, staring at the place where she had stood. "That… she…" He looked helplessly at Calistin. "Was that a…"

"Valkyrie, yes." Calistin kicked Treysind's body, wrestling a mass of emotions he could not handle. "You idiot child!" He hammered a toe against Treysind's ear, sending the bloodless face flopping sideways. Sand splashed, clinging to the sightless eyes.

"Stop that!" Magnus made a move as if to grab Calistin but stopped short of doing so. "He's your brother. Don't dishonor him like that."

Calistin bit his lower lip, wanting to continue until the head came fully free and he could send it flying into the surf. "That's not my brother. It's nothing but an empty container. He's dead, and his soul… his soul…" Calistin gazed into the sky. Multihued bands touched the western horizon in layers of color. Only a bare tip of the sun remained.

"… found Valhalla," Magnus finished. "He's Einherjar. When your time comes, you'll see him again."

"No." Calistin understood the Valkyrie's words in a way the general never could. "No. He refused her. He chose not to go."

Valr Magnus stiffened. No Northman could understand why anyone given the opportunity would not accept Valhalla. "Are you sure?"

Calistin nodded grimly. "He made the ultimate sacrifice," one the Renshai found himself incapable of imagining. In all the annals of history, in all the fairy tales of yore, no one had ever performed such an unselfish act, not even one lover for another. For Treysind, Calistin realized, had given up not only his life, but his afterlife. With Randgrithr's help, Treysind had donated his soul to the one living being who had none. I'm not at all sure you're worth it, the Valkyrie had said, and Calistin had to agree. It was a gift like no other; surely no man could ever live up to anything so singularly precious.

Galloping hoofbeats pulled Calistin from his thoughts, and a horse skidded to a stop in front of Valr Magnus, plowing up sand that clung to the drying blood on both men. The Bearnian rider called out, "General, there's an officers' meeting at Bearn Castle as soon as everyone can be gathered."

"Thank you." Valr Magnus waved the soldier off.

The Bearnide reined his horse and headed along the beach to inform the others.

Calistin found himself nearly incapable of thought. Every part of him ached, and his arm desperately needed the attention of a healer. He battled emotions he usually kept well-suppressed, and his thoughts scattered like the sand beneath the horse's hooves.

Valr Magnus cleared his throat. "So, Calistin. The war is essentially won. Do you want that battle now?"

Calistin glanced up.The general looked a fright, his helmet dented and askew, his mail sliced open, his every part smeared with blood. The Renshai knew he looked equally horrible: his arm broken, his body covered with bruises and slashes, fully steeped in Firuz' blood. He considered the general's offer for less than an instant. Magnus had killed his mother and exiled his people from the only home he knew. And, though that combat seemed grossly unfair, Magnus himself had fought with honor. The desperate urge to destroy Valr Magnus, once a burning and insatiable need, had died with Treysind. At the moment, Calistin felt nothing but overwhelming grief, sorrow, and fatigue.

Still, the challenge needed answering, his honor and that of his tribe depended on it. "Valr." Calistin's voice sounded strangely raspy, and he cleared his throat. "For the first time in my life, I saw a live Renshai willingly give his sword to another." He granted the general a look intended to demonstrate, beyond a doubt, the significance and seriousness of that statement. "I can have no quarrel with a man so respected by the immortal and consummate Renshai, Colbey Calistinsson."

All remaining color drained from Magnus' face, making the blood still leaking from his side resemble fire. "Colbey Calistinsson?" He whirled toward the place where he had acquired his newest sword, though the stranger had long since disappeared. Valr Magnus muttered, clearly quoting, "Your blade can't hit him; mine can." A smile crossed his lips. "Colbey Calistinsson."

The moment was historic in so many ways-because of two enemies bonded against a magical foe, the pirates had lost their great leader and, soon, the war itself. Yet nothing cemented it more than the immortal being, dismissed by Northmen as a figment of foolish Renshai imagination, handing over his most prized possession to a Northman, a sworn enemy of Renshai, the very cause of their exile.

To Calistin's own surprise, a laugh escaped him.

Valr Magnus also smiled, then honest laughter rumbled from him to join with Calistin's own.

For several moments the two stood, dripping, on the beach, laughing at a joke only they understood.