Excerpt of Bloodsong! Hel X 3 by C. Dean Andersson

1

Bloodsong

The sky was a black abyss infested with stars. The vast emptiness of the frozen wastes stretched away on all sides. All was silent. Nothing moved. Nothing lived. Then— Out of the north came a rider on a gaunt white horse. Save for the moaning of an icy wind that swirled about them, neither rider nor mount made a sound. The white mare was emaciated, almost skeletal. Embers of purple fire smoldered in her eyes as she flitted southward with preternatural speed upon the wind, never touching the ground. The rider was a warrior. Her name was Bloodsong. Bloodsong wore a hooded cloak of shaggy black fur. It whipped and billowed soundlessly in the sorcerous shadow-wind. Her tall, warrior-hard body was clothed in black leather breeches, tunic, boots, and gloves. A close-fitting, black steel battle-helm covered her flowing dark hair. Black steel mail protected her torso and muscular arms. A black leather belt girded her narrow waist. A sheathed throwing knife hung on the right of her belt. A straight, double-edged sword, war ax, long-bow, and arrows in a quiver hung from her saddle. So did a round shield. The shield was made of black, iron-reinforced wood. Upon it were emblazoned three crimson Runes, Hagalaz, Ehwaz, and Laguz. Their initial letters spelled HEL. Their mundane meanings were Hail, Horse, and Lake. ‘Hail killed the Horse by the Lake! Remember!’ was an old charm for awakening memories, an appeal to Hel, She to Whom Nothing is Hidden. Six years before, shortly after arriving In Helheim, Bloodsong had awakened from a dream with the Hel-charm repeating in her head. She had dreamed of a battle between humans and monsters in which she’d been a warrior named Bloodsong, then as now, and a leader whose followers had also shouted, Bloodsong and freedom! But neither she nor those who followed her in the dream were human. The army she’d led were monsters, and so was she. Now, unbidden as she rode south, the dream returned to her mind. She drove the distracting memory away, but it soon returned, accompanied by ghostly voices that cried out her name. Images joined the voices. The monsters from her nightmare flashed through her mind. A growing certainty crept over her that the creatures were trapped below the ice, struggling to awaken. Bloodsong! Free us! Bloodsong and freedom! “Enough!” Bloodsong growled. The voices and images stopped. Her dream was a memory, but the hallucinations concerned her. Could King Nidhug’s sorcery reach that far north? She had not expected magical attacks so soon. Shortly before leaving Helheim, the Goddess had given Bloodsong a black leather spell-pouch containing Hel-charms and potions. The pouch now hung from Bloodsong’s belt on her left. Hel had also placed a Hel-ring on the first, black-gloved finger of Bloodsong’s left hand. The ring was a grinning skull, the right half smoothly gleaming silver, the left half pitted and tarnished black. Hel had then implanted Witch-lore in Bloodsong’s mind and assured her that, if needed, the lore would tell her how to use the ring and the contents of the pouch. The thought of using magic repulsed Bloodsong. She felt that edged steel and physical prowess were honorable weapons, but Witchcraft and magic were not. Now, however, she wondered if her need to counter Nidhug’s sorcery with magic had already arisen. If the voices or images come again, she told herself, I must explore the magical weapons Hel forced upon me. Why didn’t She give them to me earlier, so that I could have practiced? Did She fear the Hel-magic might corrupt me into betraying Her, as She claims Nidhug did long ago? But She must also know that while She holds Guthrun, I would never risk Her anger. Bloodsong remembered Guthrun surrounded by ghosts, bravely fighting tears and fear, head held high. “I am so proud of you,” Bloodsong had said, holding Guthrun close one last time. “Be strong! We will be together again.” “I love you, Mother,” Guthrun had sobbed, holding on tightly. “And by my love for you, Daughter, I swear I will not fail!”