The Valkyries

Copyright Oggbashan September 2013/October 2015

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

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"Who the fuck are you?"

I had woken up in what I knew to be my deathbed to find myself surrounded by attractive young ladies wearing bronze armour and carrying spears.

"Fuck?" one of them asked. "We don't normally do that. An interesting idea".

"Who are you? Why...?"

"I should have thought that was obvious, Eric. We are the Valkyries. We have come to take you to Valhalla to join the other heroes."

Was I delirious? Me, a hero destined for Valhalla? These women must be a sick joke by some of my family.

"No, Eric, we're not a joke. We are the real Valkyries. Can human women do this?"

Suddenly all of them were mounted on war horses. How? There was no room around my bed for a single horse, let alone a large number.

"OK, OK. I believe you. You are the Valkyries. But why me? I'm not a hero."

"You are Eric Smith?"

I nodded.

"You fought in the Second World War?"

I nodded again.

"You won the Victoria Cross, Britain's premier award for bravery?"

"No. I didn't. The Victoria Cross was won by another Eric Smith. He was a distant relation. His award was posthumous so you must have taken him decades ago."

"Shit! Loki must be playing games again. He mucks up Valhalla's record keeping whenever he can. Let's see if we can sort it out. You were in World War 2?"

"I said so."

"You didn't. You nodded. Sister? Have you got the record?"

Somehow the Valkyries' horses had disappeared. The large crowd of them had reduced to four women.

"Yes. Sergeant Eric Smith, veteran of the North Africa campaign, landed in Normandy on D-Day and was involved in the British Army campaigns from there until he was at Luneburg Heath for the surrender to General Montgomery."

"That true, Eric?"

"Yes, but..."

"Is this yours?"

She produced a Lee Enfield rifle and handed it to me. I received it like the old friend it was. I looked carefully. It had been mine. There were the familiar serial numbers and the bullet scar from the sniper in Antwerp. I hadn't been injured. My rifle had been leaning against a Jeep while I worked on the engine.

"Yes, it's mine. But how?"

"How? We can do many things. We could even do fucking, if that's what you want, Eric."

"I'm dying. You know that, or you wouldn't be here. I doubt that I am still capable of fucking anyone."

"You're not dying. You died a couple of minutes before you said 'Who the fuck are you?'. You can leave the bed anytime you want. Look at that mirror."

I climbed out of bed, easily. I walked across to the bedroom mirror. Reflected was not the old man who had died, but myself as I had been in 1944, even in my khaki uniform with full equipment. I hadn't noticed the weight because I was again the young fit soldier I had been then. I even had the holstered Colt 1911 I had been given by an American Officer for taking out a sniper pinning his troops down.

"That's the man we want in Valhalla," the Valkyrie said.

"Fuck me!" I said.

"Well, yes, we can do that. But we would be more comfortable in Valhalla. Shall we go?"

"I suppose so. I thought I was a Christian, so why Valhalla?"

"You thought you were a Christian. You weren't really a Christian. You believed more in the Gods of War. Remember that sniper? What did you say when he hit your rifle?"

"I don't remember. What did I say?"

"You said: 'By Odin, I'll get that bugger!', and you did. You stalked him for an hour before killing him with a single shot from this rifle. A Christian might have called on his God first. Your response was that of a warrior -- a warrior we need in Valhalla."

"For Gotterdammerung?"

"Yes, but we have other battles to fight before the last one, possibly one on the way to Valhalla now. Come on, Eric. Where else could you go?"

She had a good point. Valhalla, especially with these delightful young ladies, seemed very attractive. It seemed much more attractive than Purgatory or Hell might be.

"There's another reason, Eric. You swear by the Norse Gods, so did your father..."

"And my grandfather."

"Exactly. Do you know why?"

"No. I didn't think there was a reason."

"All of you are Wodingas, descended from Woden or Odin. At least that's what the records say unless Loki has been tampering with them. That's another reason for us wanting you, Eric."

"OK, ladies. I'm your man. How..."

"You mount up behind me."

My familiar room had vanished. She was back on an armoured horse that was stamping on the ground impatiently. She held out a hand. I slung my rifle across my back and mounted easily, as easily as if I had been riding horses recently instead of sixty years ago.

"I'm Kara," she said. "That means 'the wild one' or 'the curly one'. Take your choice."

She was certainly curly. Her long red hair curled either side of my head as we galloped across a grassy plain, heading for a shimmering bridge in the distance. Either side of us there were more Valkyries, perhaps twenty. The thunder of the troop of horses was almost deafening.

One of the Valkyries swung her horse close to Kara's and pointed. In the distance ahead but to the left of us a couple of dozen black-clad warriors were riding to cut us off from the bridge.

"Eric, we need you and your rifle now," Kara shouted. "Dismount, and stop them."

She brought her horse to a sudden stop. My face slammed into the mass of her red hair before I could stop myself. I enjoyed the feel and scent but I followed her commands and leapt off. I lay down on the top of a slight mound, took four or five clips out of my pouches, and checked that my rifle had five rounds.

The Valkyries swung right and the black warriors angled towards them. I sighted at the lead rider, about six hundred yards away, and fired.

I hit exactly where I had aimed. His horse went down, killed with a head shot. Three or four riders were thrown into confusion by the sudden fall in their path. I aimed for the horse that emerged from the chaos first.

I fired and worked the bolt with my 1944 familiarity. Three more horses were down before I needed a fresh clip. I had hit a fourth but not stopped him. The riders had swung towards me, making my targets narrower. I aimed at the riders this time, taking three down before loading the third clip.

I had fired all ten rounds so far as fast as I could. The enemy riders were beginning to spread out so I took greater care with my aim for the next five rounds, watching to my right because the Valkyries had drawn swords and were charging from right to left. I had time for yet another five rounds before friend and foe became mixed. My accurate fire had meant that the Valkyries outnumbered their opponents who began to retreat. I picked targets very carefully as the few black riders galloped away, the last one at about eight hundred yards. I saw the rider jerk as my round struck, but I think it just grazed his shoulder.

As the Valkyries rode slowly back towards me I checked that my rifle still had five rounds available. I don't like loading two clips, or more than eight rounds, because the spring isn't always strong enough to move all ten. If I need ten rounds urgently, I'd rather use a Bren gun.

The plain had a scattering of dead men and horses. One of the horses was still staggering with an obvious broken leg. I shot it dead from a hundred yards away. The couple of wounded riders had been taken away by the few enemy riders who were left to retreat.

As she came back to me Kara gave her reins to another Valkyrie and dismounted. She ran to me, threw her arms around me, and kissed me fiercely. If this was a normal kiss for her, no wonder her name might mean the wild one. I had never been kissed like this. For a few moments I forgot her bronze breast plate and my ammo pouches digging into my chest.

"We knew you were a warrior, Eric, but we didn't expect you to be that deadly..." Kara said.

"Nor did we expect that many of the enemy," another Valkyrie added. "Perhaps it was for the other Eric Smith? What was he like?"

"I didn't know him personally," I replied, "but I know what he was and what he did. He was an artillery sergeant defending the perimeter at Dunkirk in 1940. All the rest of his gun crew were killed by Stuka dive bombers but he continued to fire his 25 pounder alone for an hour until he was killed by a German tank. His action allowed the retreating troops to set up a defensive line behind him."

"But he wouldn't have been as accurate as you with a rifle?" Kara asked.

"That's unlikely. I was one of the most successful snipers in the British Army -- then. Apparently I still am. But if the other Eric had been here with his 25 pounder he would have killed the lot with one round."

"You still are a successful sniper. We don't normally defeat that many so easily. They'll be back."

"Back?"

"Like us, Eric, they are immortal. They, and we, can be killed. That is painful and very unpleasant but we are resurrected within hours. Until the last days, that is. Then those killed in the final battle will be dead forever."

"I'm not sure I will have enough cartridges if they keep attacking, Kara."

"That's simply remedied, Eric."

Kara waved a hand. I felt my ammo pouches increase in weight.

"You've got a new supply. If you want more, all you have to do is ask. We need our warriors to be well equipped."

"If they're going to attack again, Kara, I could do with some more troops."

"You're doing fine, Eric. You might have deterred them from attacking again. It's less than a mile to Bifrost Bridge and then we're beyond their reach."

Kara was right. We reached the bridge at a gallop. I could see more black riders in the far distance but too far off to intercept us and outside of my rifle's range. If I had one of the modern US sniper's rifles I might just have been able to drop a round among them. Hitting an individual would have been luck, not aim.

Bifrost Bridge felt odd. It was translucent. I could see through it but our horses' hooves treated it as solid. It took an hour to reach the gates of Valhalla. It looked like a massive medieval castle with high walls and towers with more towers inside the outer ring. Our horses' hooves thundered on the wooden drawbridge.

As we rode through the gates the sentries saluted us. They were dressed as Viking warriors with round shields, spears and long swords at their sides. Their helmets were simple without the horns beloved of Victorian illustrators. The sentries looked like fierce battle-hardened men.

"No challenge?" I queried.

"What need?" Kara replied. "You are with the Valkyries. Anyone we bring to Valhalla has already been selected to live with the heroes. But the salute was for you, Eric. Rarely does a single hero cause so much pain to our enemies. The sentries would have seen what you did. Later they'll probably give you a few beers. Up here you can drink as much as you like. In Valhalla there are no hangovers."

"That sounds good. I haven't been able to drink, on doctors' orders, for years."

"Now you can. And, Eric, if you still want to be fucked? There are willing women everywhere. They can't get pregnant. How could they? They're as dead as you are. But -- treat them well. All the women here are heroines, or they wouldn't be in Valhalla. They deserve your respect."

"And honour?"

"That too, Eric. I know you were always a gentleman as well as a deadly sniper. If you treat women here as you did when alive, you'll be popular."

"But I don't get to fuck Valkyries?"

"We don't normally have sex. We're warrior goddesses. We select from among the slain and those heroes who die naturally. So many men die in wars all the time that we're usually too busy for sex. But it's an intriguing idea. Ask me again in a few days' time."

"Thank you, Kara."

"For what?"

"For bringing me to Valhalla."

"That's what I have to do, Eric. I admit I enjoyed bringing you because you are so deadly. I felt real satisfaction as you killed our enemies. Sometimes I might ask you to descend Bifrost with me and protect our approach. If you can keep the enemies at a distance my task would be easier."

"Of course I'll do what I can, Kara."

"But you might like a reward?"

"And you know what reward I'd like."

"OK, Eric. It's a deal. If I need you to be a sniper for me, your reward will be sex with Kara. Whether you'll enjoy that? I don't know."

Kara stopped her horse by a substantial building butted against a castellated wall.

"Dismount now, Eric. You'll be staying here."

A tall blonde woman opened the front door as I reached the ground. She was carrying a bronze shield and a long spear, wearing a bronze cuirass with a metalled skirt like a Roman legionary. A short sword hung by her side.

"This is Eric," Kara said. "Please look after him, Britta. Eric, Britta is your shield maiden, at least for a while. Her task is to introduce you to Valhalla. Your task is to train her to be a sniper. You could be fighting side by side if we Valkyries need your skills. Our enemies should be worried by today. It has been years since so many of them were killed in one action."

Britta stood beside me, facing Kara. Her right hand took my left.

"Thank you, Kara," Britta said. "I am pleased you have given me Eric. I'll try to deserve him."

"You don't need to try, Britta. Eric is here because you already deserve him. You should learn to be proud of each other, and dangerous to our enemies. Eric? Britta has two weeks to show you Valhalla. You have two weeks to start training her as a sniper."

I was about to protest that becoming a skilled sniper took much longer than two weeks. Kara spoke almost as I had the thought.

"Don't underestimate Britta. She will learn a lot in two weeks. After then? I'll expect both of you at the lower end of Bifrost Bridge to protect the returning Valkyries."

Kara reared her horse and cantered away.

Britta's hand squeezed mine.

"Welcome to our home in Valhalla, Eric. The meal is ready for you. But -- as it is to be our joint home, you should carry me across the threshold this time. I'll shed my armour to make me lighter."

Could I? A few hours ago I wouldn't have been able to carry a heavy shopping bag. Now I was dead, in Valhalla and apparently back as the man I had been during the Second World War, could I carry a very substantial woman across a threshold?

I did. It was an effort. Although Britta's armour and weapons had vanished to be replaced by a long dress, she is taller and heavier than me but I staggered through the doorway before lowering her to the floor. She was giggling.

"Perhaps I should have carried you, Eric," Britta said. "That would have been just as effective but the neighbours might have wondered which of us is in charge."

"In charge? At present you are, Britta. I have no idea about Valhalla nor how I was chosen to come here. I need your help, please."

"Thank you, Eric. Not all heroes are so polite to their shield maidens."

"There you are. I have no idea what a shield maiden is, what they do, and how I should treat you. Can you tell me, Britta? Please?"

"I'll start telling you over our meal, Eric, which is ready for us."

The meal was everything I had dreamed of while eating Army rations during the war. All my personal favourites were there. Britta was eating a totally different meal that seemed fish-based. Even when we had finished eating I didn't feel that I had taken too much. I just felt that I had enjoyed food for the first time for years. As we ate, Britta talked.

"A shield maiden is your fighting partner, Eric. She will defend you; you should defend her. She'll watch your back, you watch hers. At the least she would be your loader, your number two on a machine gun, the private to your corporal. At her best the status might be reversed and you would be her back-up, her support. But I think you and I will be equal partners standing side by side against our enemies."

"How did you become a shield maiden, Britta?" I asked. "I don't know why I was chosen. Why were you?"

"I was in the Norwegian resistance during the war. I was captured and tortured by the Gestapo. They wanted me to betray my comrades. I didn't. Unusually they didn't kill me. They started with a multiple rape. That didn't encourage me to talk so they wrecked my body instead. They cut off all my fingers and toes, one by one, and blinded me. When it was obvious I wasn't going to break they injected me with several disease germs then punctured my eardrums and cut out my tongue. I couldn't see, hear nor speak. They threw me out on the street as a warning to other members of the resistance expecting that I might die. I lived for about six months as a crippled wreck. When I eventually died I ended up in Valhalla with the body you see now -- undamaged."

"No one deserved to be treated as you were." I said. "Some of the Germans were monsters."

"But not all, Eric. There are many Germans from that war here in Valhalla. Some of them believed in the Norse Gods. The good ones came here. The bad ones? Some of them are the enemies we fight daily, and will fight to the death at Gotterdammerung."

"I'll try to remember that, Britta. I never hated Germans. I just killed them."

"Killing? That reminds me of some of the things you need to know about Valhalla. We're dead. We don't have to eat, nor drink. We do, for enjoyment. We don't produce any bodily wastes so there are no toilets or sewage systems. Our food and drink is produced if we want it with no preparation, nor washing up. If we want to be clean, not that we get really dirty, we just think ourselves clean. I'll have to do some things for you until you learn how to do it for yourself. For example -- you're wearing battledress. Inside Valhalla that isn't necessary. Try this."

Britta waved a hand at me. She had changed my clothes into casual trousers and an open necked shirt. My battledress was neatly folded on a chair with my rifle leaning against it. I felt more comfortable.

"And for me?"

Britta had changed into a clinging blue dress that emphasised her curves and exposed her cleavage.

"Like that, Eric?"

"Like it? You're giving me ideas I thought I had forgotten."

"You're young again, Eric. We don't need to worry about pregnancy or infections. Any of us can make love without consequences. I've waited years for a suitable hero. Are you going to be my hero, Eric?"

"Are you sure, Britta?"

"Sure? Of course I'm sure. How long is it since you had sex? Twenty years? I haven't since 1943. Anyway, if you're going to fuck Kara the Valkyrie you need practice and stamina."

"You know about Kara?"

"Everyone knows, Eric. You're famous, or infamous. You are the first hero who has been so effective against our enemies for years, and the only one in five hundred years who has suggested fucking a Valkyrie. The legends say that fucking a Valkyrie is a fantastic experience but deadly. We can die, as those you killed today die, but are painfully resurrected within hours. Death from fucking a Valkyrie is supposed to be more long lasting, a couple of days or even a week. Which reminds me. I don't want to die again, Eric. I'll be back as I was when the Gestapo threw me on the street, in agony but unable to express my pain."

"I'll do what I can to prevent that, Britta. If we are partners in war..."

"...and in bed."

"I'll do my best in both situations."

"Come on, Eric. I want you in our bed now."

Britta took my hand and led me upstairs to a large bedroom. In the centre was a massive four-poster bed. We stripped each other slowly and carefully. Britta's body showed no signs of what the Gestapo had done to her. I couldn't believe how good my own body was now. I had forgotten what it was like to be young, fit, and how quickly an erection could happen faced with a naked young woman.