Editing Eternity: Beyond (section)

=== Child of Fang ===

Freija Ogunsdottar grumbled as she was shaken awake. She had gone to sleep late after a few extra hours reading several tattered old manuals on flight training. If she was going to join the Sky Riders, she had to ace the test. If she would ever get that far.

She opened her eyes to see the silhouette of her father leaning over her, lit by a lone white beeswax candle set high into the rock walls of her bedchamber.

“What is it?” she mumbled, shrugging off his rough hands.

“Get up.” he said, turning from her and looking for more light.

Freija pushed herself up from the tangled furs of her bunk. Her sand-blonde hair fell in unruly clumps around her face. The tiny chamber was ice cold, but she was used to that. Everything on Fenris was ice cold.

“What’s going on?”

Ogun managed to find the light switch and turn it on. The light revealed his blunt, honest face, and the worry lines etched around his eyes looked deeper than ever.

“There’s been a change of plan,” the old warrior said, running a tired hand over his short beard. “Tra, Fyf and For-twa have been called off-world. We’re back on duty.”

“Skítja,” Freija swore, rubbing her eyes and trying to banish the heavy weight of sleep. “Again? We only just got off duty last week.”

“It is not our place to question it. Just get into uniform.”

Freija looked at her father with concern. Ogun was a rivenmaster, the equivalent of a Colonel in the Imperial Army. He commanded a full Riven or battalion of the Aettguard, the human defenders of the Aett and warriors of the Rout. He took his duties seriously, and wore himself down to the bone every day for the Rout. Even though none of the Rout ever seemed to care about the sacrifices he made, that they all made for their Transhuman masters. As if they ever did.

Freija shook her head to dispel the sleep which still had its claws within her as she pulled her tunic over her head and tried to pull the worst of the tangles from her hair. She had been glad to get off rotation. Weeks of being driven into punishing defensive exercises by the Sky Warriors, of being ordered around by whooping Blood Claws who’d forgotten what it was like to have a mortal body and mortal weaknesses, and who did not care about what they put their mortal charges through. They seemed to despise the weakness they saw in the Aettguard, and punished it wherever they could.

“Great,” she said coldly. “Bloody great.”

“Freija, my daughter,” said Morek. He came up to her and put his hands firmly on her shoulders. “You do not know what an honour it is to serve the Sky Warriors, the Rout. We do a service none of them could do. Even if they do not acknowledge it, be proud of your place, be proud that you are able to serve and see something beyond the mountains and seas of Fenrys.”

She shook her head as she began to strap on her body armour. His words were honest, but disguised the truth. The Sky Warriors barely knew mortals such as he and she existed, even though without the loyal service of the Aettguard they’d be unable to keep even half of the Fang’s huge maze of chambers in operation. They did not care that their entire existence in the Aett depended on the mortals they overlooked, and no-one would care if she died in their service.

“All they care about is that I can fight, with axe and skjoldtar. And that I can do.” She said as she slotted her axe into a loop on her belt.

“You show your feelings too much,” he complained.

“If they wanted meek, shrinking servants, they’ve got the wrong bloody planet. Fekke, I’m a daughter of Fenrys and my blood runs hot. Even if it is only mortal blood.”

Her father shook his head, but couldn’t hide a small smile. “Aye, you’re a daughter of Fenrys all right,” he said, and his brown eyes shone. “You make me proud, Freija. And sick with fear, fear that you will go too far.” He turned to go. “You’ve been assigned to the Valgard. They need people to help assist the armoury staff in preparing the remaining Thunderhawks and Stormbirds for deployment. I imagine you’ll be keeping an eye open, I know you have desires in that direction.” He gestured at the discarded manuals, before leaving. Ever since she was young she had wanted to fly, though that dream was still just that, a dream. Maybe someday, she would be selected to join the Sky Riders and fly for the Legion. But that day was not today. Today she had a job to do.



Freija silently fumed as she tramped down the many hundreds of levels from the Valgard at the summit of the Fang to the lower reaches of the Hould, where she was to recruit another squad of Kaerls to help them with the preparations. She had ridden on more than a dozen clattering turbo-elevators, tramped down several long spiral staircases hewn from the stone and marched across countless rough-cut chambers glowing with the embers of old fires and glowglobes. The strap of her skjoldtar cut into her shoulder, and despite her years of exercise and training she was panting, her uniform soaked with sweat.

As she strode down yet another corridor, she saw a figure ahead heading in the opposite direction, as the figure got closer, Freija saw who, or rather what it was. A Blood Claw, loping down the corridor in the manner of the Sky Warriors. Trouble.

She quickly stood aside, trying to put as much space between her and the Sky Warrior as possible. But the Claw seemed to deliberately make it so she was always in the way.

The Claw bulled past her, knocking her out of the way. She fell to the ground hard, and grunted as she felt the pain. There would be plenty of bruises from that.

She scrambled to her feet to see the Claw continue down the corridor as before, as if he hadn’t knocked her flat.

Her temper grabbed hold of her and the flare of rebellion burned in her breast.

“Damn you!” she yelled after the Blood Claw. “Show. Some. Bloody. Respect!” The Rout never respected their human servants. They only knew no fear because it had been bred out of them, yet they quickly seemed to learn to despise mortal emotion, the very core of the humanity they were charged with protecting even if they weren’t human any more.

If the Claw heard her, he gave no sign as he disappeared from view. Silently she stood there fuming, wondering if a skjoldtar bullet would knock some sense into his thick head. At the same time she knew she had crossed the line. If the Claw mentioned her words to one of his superiors, she would be dragged forth for discipline, or worse.

“Is everything alright?” A voice came up from behind her. Female, another Kaerl or maybe a Legion Serf. It was the wrong time to talk with Freija Ogunsdottar. She would give this bloody serf a piece of her mind.

“What the bloody hel do you…” her angry words failed as she saw who was standing behind her.

She was right; the figure was female, but no Kaerl or Serf. She was taller than the stocky Freija, with a thick mane of red hair. And her eyes were not the circles of amber pinned with black that most sons and daughters of Fenris had, but rather an exotic shade of green. Freija knew those eyes, just as she knew who was standing before her.

“My Lady,” she whispered, sinking to her knees. If she could have, she would have wanted the earth to open up and swallow her at that moment.

“Rise, huskaerl.” Said the Russdottar, child of the Vlka. Shakily, Freija rose to her feet. Her bad mood was gone in an instant, replaced by embarrassment that she had spoken in such a tone to the second most important person in the Aett. Whatever the Blood Claw might have said was nothing now next to this.

“What is your name Huskaerl?”

“Freija, my Lady. Freija Ogunsdottar, huskaerl of onn Riven.”

Russdottar smiled at Freija. “We share the same name, you and I, though you pronounce it in the fashion of the Ice people.”

“I believe I was named after you, My Lady. My Mother came from the ice, and passed on its crude ways to me.”

As she spoke, Freija recalled her mother’s face. Heavy-set like hers, blonde hair in messy curls like her own, a tight mouth that rarely smiled, features made harsh by unremitting labour and hardship. But the eyes, the dark, sparkling eyes – they had exposed the bright intellect within, the questioning, rebellious soul that had never quite been ground down. Even at the end, when the punishing demands of the Sky Warriors had exacerbated the illness that would kill her; those eyes had remained alive and inquiring. All those things she had inherited from her mother.

The memory of her mother, and how the Sky Warriors had all but worked her to death sent another scowl over Freija’s face. Something Russdottar noticed.

“I heard what you yelled after that Claw. Is there a problem?”

Freija knew what her father would say, and for his sake she would hold her tongue. “No my Lady. It is nothing. I obey the Wyrd, as we all do.”

“The Wyrd.” Russdottar mused. “It often seems the Wyrd is used as an excuse when one does not want to have to face the truth.” Freija felt pinned by those green eyes, locked in their gaze the same way an Elk was frozen by the gaze of a Thunderwolf. “Huskaerl Freya, forget the Wyrd. Tell me why you feel so strongly about the Sky Warriors. I won’t let you go until you do so.”

Caught in her gaze, Freija did not know what to say. She could get into far worse trouble if she told her the truth, even if she was the Child of the Aett. But something stirred within her, and she began strongly. “My Lady, the Sky Warriors have never been good to us, the mortals of the Aett. We are the ones who maintain this mighty fortress, who fight alongside the Rout where the army fears to tread. And yet the Sky Warriors treat us with contempt, they look down on us and our human weaknesses…”

For several minutes and despite the strangeness of the circumstances, Freija spilled her guts to Russdottar about the way the Sky Warriors treated them. The many instances of accidental injury, the harsh way they were pushed when training alongside the Claws, the contempt they were held in by their masters and overlords. She even showed Russdottar the scar on her side from where an over-exuberant Blood Claw had knocked her into a wall during a training session.

When she was done, Russdottar could not entirely disguise the shock in her face at what she had heard.

“They are my Pack. I never knew...”

“You may be pack to them, but to them we are nothing. To them, we are human and stink of weakness. They are arrogant, My Lady, arrogance bred of forgetting what it means to be human.”

She checked her chronometer and was shocked that nearly half an hour had passed. “Skítja,” Freija swore. “My Lady, I must be off. I have been delayed, and my Kaerls will be wondering where I am and where the help is.”

“Of course. But please, don’t call me my lady. We share a name, let us use it. Thank you Freija Ogunsdottar, for being honest with me. You have given me a lot to think about.”

“My pleasure La…Freija.” It felt strange, calling Russdottar by her true name, the name they shared. That feeling persisted long after she had reached the Hould, recruited the back-up Kaerls and led them up to the Valgard. Her room felt if anything colder than usual that night.



As the days passed, Freija had begun to hope that her encounter with Russdottar had gone unnoticed, and had concentrated on her huskaerl duties single-mindedly. There had been plenty enough of those, including rigorous weapons drills with her squad, many of whom weren’t nearly at the standard she wanted them to be. By night she continued to study her manuals, hoping that one day she would get the chance to join the ranks of the Sky Riders.

But one morning as she was struggling into her uniform for another day’s duty, a knock came at the door.

“Fekke, I’m coming dammit! Give me a moment!” It was probably her father, come to share some wisdom with her again. Or maybe, she thought as a chill ran down her neck, this would be about that day, when she had lost her temper and then confided in the most unlikely person.

She opened the door to find herself staring at a young man, maybe a year or two younger then herself waiting outside. His hair was sandy blonde similar to her own, but his eyes were a clear blue, like a cold morning’s sky.

“Freya Ogunsdottar?” He asked. His voice had a hint of Gothic to it, though his accent was that of the Tribes of the Great Sea.

“Aye. What do you want?”

“I have been sent to fetch you. You have been summoned.”

“Summoned by whom?” She demanded.

“The Sky Warriors. You are to come with me to the Jarlheim.” With that, he turned and began to walk away, Freija pulling on her boots as she tried to catch up to him. Her heart pounded at his words. She had been summoned to the Jarlheim? Was this what her father had feared? Were they going to carve the Blood Eagle into her chest for daring to speak up?

Much of the walk was taken in silence, but as they rode up a cargo elevator, the stranger suddenly spoke up.

“Forgive me, but I have not been down here very often. Are there many women in the Aett?”

She blinked with surprise. “Whole generations have born and died within the Aett. Surely as one of us, you should know that?”

“I don’t usually come down here. I live further up, in the Valgard.”

Freija peered at him quizzically. “So you’re from the fleet, is that right?”

“Something like that.” He muttered.

That broke the dam, and soon the two were conversing freely. He asked her a multitude of questions about her life in the Hould and her service in the Aettguard. He seemed genuinely fascinated by the lives of those in the Hould, and a few times Freija caught him gazing at her.

He evaded most of her questions in return, though he had flown in a Starship before, which excited her. Unlike her father, who had often made war alongside the Sky Warriors far from Fenris, she had never left the Aett. She threw a barrage of questions at him, about what it was like to sail between the stars, and travel through the warp.

Before she knew it, they were in the Jarlheim and standing before a great wooden door marked with leaping wolves.

“Follow me.” He said as he opened the door and strode within as if he owned the place.

Heart pounding, she followed him. The hall was small but high vaulted, the walls carved with great stone columns. At the end was a fireplace, a fire burning within. On either side of the fire was a pair of heavy chairs.

“Take a seat. You will be attended to shortly.” The young man said as he turned to go. His abrupt departure left her suspicious.

“What the hel is going on?” Freija demanded. “Why am I being left here?”

“You will find out in time. For now, I must leave you. I will return shortly.” Before she could say another word, the young man turned and left.

Freija felt her dark mood returning. She had a strong suspicion she was to be disciplined and censured for her earlier words. Maybe even have the blood eagle carved into her chest. If that was to be her fate, she would meet it like a true daughter of Fenris, with fire in her blood.

The massive stone chair dwarfed her; she suspected it had been made for the imposing bulk of the Sky Warriors. She poked the fire with a heavy poker lying on the hearth and warmed her hands in its soft glow, waiting for whatever end would come to her. For several minutes the soft crack and pop of the fire set her mind at ease. It reminded her of her days as a young girl, sitting in her father’s lap listening to his stories by the light of a hearthfire.

The first she knew was when the fire flickered as if a cold wind had entered the chamber. She turned, but the door was still closed. But now the skin on the back of her neck prickled, and she had the instinctual feeling she was no longer alone in here.

She reached for her skjoldtar, and flicked the safety off. If she was damned already, this would make no difference and she would not go down without a fight. No wolf would.

She then heard something. A deep rumbling sound, like the seismic rumble of an erupting volcano or approaching earthquake. Whatever it was, she did not like it.

“Show yourself!” she yelled, skjoldtar held at the ready.

A dark shadow fell across her, one far too big to be a normal person, or even a Sky Warrior. She turned, weapon raised to see what was casting it.

“Put down your skjoldtar,” the shadow figure said. “You have no need for it here.”

The distinctive wet leopard-growl of the Sky Warriors haunted every syllable of his words. But he was no Sky Warrior. No. Every physical dimension exceeded that of a Sky Warrior.

There was only one being on Fenris like this, only one it could be. Freija threw herself flat, stunned almost senseless by the shock.

“Wolf King.” She barely forced out.

“Yes. Get up off your knees, foolish girl. Let me see your face.” He answered, gently taking her by the shoulder and lifting her to her feet, letting her see him close up.

His face was shaved clean, and his skin was white like marble, though there were light freckles on it. The Wolf King’s hair was long. Thick plaits of it hung down across his chest plate, weighted at the tips by polished stones. The rest of it was lacquered into a spiked mane. To her, his hair looked like bright blond hair stained in blood.

“W…w…what do you want of me, Wolf King?” she stuttered, wishing her voice didn’t sound so pathetic and paper-thin as she tried to find the right words to say to him.

“What do I want?” he rumbled. “Well, for a start I want you to take a seat. You’ll fall over if you don’t. Meeting us, the children of the Allfather is always a shock to mere mortals. I remember when Hawser first met me; poor bastard nearly had a heart attack.”

Gratefully she took a seat, no longer trusting her legs to keep her upright.

“Now, Freya Ogunsdottar, Huskaerl of Onn Riven and daughter of the Aett, tell me what you told my daughter, about how the Sky Warriors treat you mortals.”

Freija did not want to get into any more trouble. She was in enough as it was. “Wolf King, it is not my place to upset the Wyrd. What is, is. Some of us may feel angry at our treatment, but we are of the Wyrd and the Wyrd determines our place.”

“The Wyrd.” The Wolf King growled. “Stop using the Wyrd as an excuse. We all abide by it, but we also change and alter it by our actions. The Wyrd shifts like a river, its flow altered by a single stone. You are that stone, Freya Ogunsdottar. Now tell me what I want to know.”

And so, for the second time Freija told someone about her private grievances against the uncaring masters of the Aett. But this time she was telling it to the king of all Fenris, the master of the Aett, her overlord. She barely knew how she was able to continue, with his overpowering presence nearly crushing her, turning her words into feeble squeaks.

Finally she finished and bowed her head. If he judged her insolent, then her punishment would be absolute. She had thought herself brave, but in the presence of the Wolf King, that courage was for naught.

“I see now that I have been remiss in my dealings with the mortals of the Aett. I have let their contribution be forgotten and my warriors walk over them, forgetting that they were once the same. I recognise my failing and will be sure to correct it.”

Of all the reactions she had been expecting, this was the most unlikely one. “But you’re the Wolf King! You never fail!” Freija blurted out.

“Dear child, none are immune to failure. Not me, nor my brothers, nor even my father. It’s how we deal with failure that is the mark of a true man. Or woman.” The Wolf King smiled as the door opened behind them. “And speaking of women, Daughter, have you brought the refreshments?”

“I have never been a maid father, in either sense of the term.” The voice was instantly familiar, and Freija turned to see Russdottar, the other Freija walking down the hall towards them.

“Two Freyas, both children of Fenris, both so similar and yet utterly different.” The Wolf King remarked as she joined them. “Huskaerl Freya has told me many things, things which I was ignorant about before. And though I cannot change the attitudes of my warriors, I can remind them of the debt we owe to the Aettguard for keeping our home active, and standing beside us in battle.”

“Make sure you do father,” Russdottar replied.

A thought entered Freija’s head, and before she could contain it the words slipped out. “Why do you care?”

Both the Wolf King and Russdottar turned to her. Inwardly she quailed, but she had said the words, and she finished them.

“Why do you care what happens to us? We are the least of your servants. We are replaceable unlike the Sky Warriors, and you have always treated us as such.” Every word she said gave her courage, and the hurt she had long nursed, that she had never spoken of finally came out.

“My mother died in your service, in the service of the Sky Warriors. She was sick, but she continued to serve until her body failed her. You worked her to death. My father works himself to the bone, and then beyond that to the marrow every day because he feels honoured to serve you. You’ll kill him as well, the same way you killed her. And I’m not the only one. Why should you start caring now, when you haven’t before?”

The Wolf King and Russdottar looked at each other, and the Wolf King said in a low rumble, “Because we should have been caring from the very start. Because we forgot that in the Imperium of a million worlds, there is one world whose children we should care about above all. Our own. I made a mistake, but I recognize my failing and will be sure to correct it.

Freija recognised the old saying of the VI Legion. “There’s a first time for everything, Wolf King.” She said. “And there only needs to be a first time before we correct our failings.”

“Exactly,” he grunted. He rose to his feet. “I must go. Amlodhi Skarssen Skarssensson, Jarl of Fyf wants to see me before he leaves. Huskaerl, Daughter.” With that he rose to his feet and stalked off, moving almost impossibly silently for his massive bulk.

“He truly is a force of nature.” Russdottar remarked once he had left. Freija slowly nodded.

“So what becomes of me now? Freija asked.

“You return to the Hould and your duties. Though you won’t be staying there for long.”

“What? Why?” Freija demanded.

Russdottar smiled. “I heard that you have aspirations to become a Sky Rider, one of our pilots.”

Freija slowly nodded. It was a private aspiration and she felt uncomfortable having Russdottar speak of it so openly.

“Well I’ve pulled a few strings, and you’ll be getting your summons to join the trainees for the Sky Riders. You’ll have to leave the Hould and move to the Valgard though.”

It took a few seconds for her words, or rather their meaning to sink in. Her long held desire to become a Sky Rider was being offered up to her in front of her eyes. 

Freija’s brow furrowed as she mused over this. On the one hand she had the chance now to become a Sky Rider, a pilot, to fly the Thunderbolts and Lightnings in support of the Legion. But on the other she would be leaving her father and all she knew behind. Could she do that?

Russdottar seemed to read her thoughts. “I’ve spoken with your father, and he understands your desire. I’m sure he’ll speak with you on it himself, but he will survive without you, and Father plans to have him reassigned to a less strenuous posting as chief of Logistics for the Aettguard. As the XIII has taught us though Martial Valour wins battles, Logistics wins wars.”

Freija did not know what to say, so she silently stared into the fire. She should be thankful that her father would no longer be killing himself for the Legion, but it felt more like a hollow apology for what had gone before.

“We can’t change the past.” Russdottar suddenly added. “And I can well imagine what you must be feeling, that this is poor compensation for what you have lost. This is not compensation, for nothing can compensate you for what you have lost.” There was sadness in her forest-shaded eyes. “I understand what it’s like to lose those you love. I lost my great mother many years ago, to sickness. I’ll outlive my mother, all my mortal friends, and Fekke knows how many more in the years to come.”

Freija didn’t know what to say. It felt like she was hearing something she shouldn’t, intruding on Russdottar’s private thoughts. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but Russdottar did not seem to notice.

“I’ve been living here for many years now. I have very few mortal friends anymore, there’s no-one here who doesn’t see me as their liege lady, no-one who will speak to me as an equal, not a servant. No-one that is, until I bumped into you.” She cocked her head slightly. “You have fire in your blood, just as I do. When you move up into the Valgard, I hope I’ll see more of you. I have plenty of family here in the Aett, but few friends. I hope I can count you as one of them.”

This time, Freija had words, even if they felt clunky. “Of course M’lady.”

“Please, my name is Freya. That’s your name and mine, and I’d rather we used it.”

“Forgive me…Freija,” the name was almost alien on her tongue, “but it will take some time to get used to it. One name, two very different people.”

“Aye, but we are both daughters of Fenris and children of the Aett. Our blood runs hot.”

At that moment the doors opened again, and the youth with the blonde hair was standing in the doorway. Russdottar said something to the boy in High Gothic, which Freija couldn’t understand. They went back and forth for a few minutes, before He returned to Juvjuk.

“Freya Ogunsdottar, I’m to return you to the Hould.”

Freija nodded, rose from the chair and turned to go, but a hand stopped her. She turned to see Russdottar standing beside her.

“You were brave, telling the Wolf King all that goes on below. You reminded us that if we can’t defend our own people, how can we ever defend the Imperium?”

“I did not set out to do this Freija.” There was more confidence in her words now. “I only did this because you made me, because you forced me to tell you.”

“I could sense that you were troubled, and I needed to find out why. I’m glad I did. I’m glad you spoke up.” Suddenly Russdottar grabbed Freija in a bear-hug. Freija squirmed in surprise, but took it as it was meant, and a warm feeling filled her.

“Thank you Freya, daughter of Ogun.” She said as they parted company.

“Thank you Freija, daughter of Russ.” Freija replied as the doors closed behind her.

The journey back was as silent as the journey there, but the warm feeling lingered within Freija. Russdottar was not some icy queen from beyond the stars, but someone who despite her heritage seemed more human than anyone could have guessed. Her companion had a small smile at seeing Freija that way.

“I’ll take it Russdottar left a good impression upon you?” he said near the end of their journey. She nodded.

“She can do that.” His eyes flickered to the floor level, before he said, “She has been rather lonely of late. There are very few humans she interacts with outside her family, and none are true friends.”

“How do you know that?” Freija asked. “Are you one of her personal servants or something?”

“Or something.” He repeated, before changing the subject. 

“You know, I myself am a fully qualified flight instructor. When you come up for flight training, I’ll be the one to teach you.”

“Really?” She said. “You look awfully young to be a flight instructor.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover Freya. I’m one of the best.”

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” She remarked, bringing him to smile once again.

Finally the elevator ground to a halt, and Freija knew this was her level, this was where they would part company.

“I hope I’ll see more of you, Freija.” There was something almost shy in his words.

“I hope I’ll see more of you…” her words faltered. “You never did tell me your name. What is it?”

“Olev.”

“Well then, I hope I’ll see more of you too, Olev.” She smiled at him, and a faint flush of red crept into his cheeks as the elevator doors closed. Freija shifted her skjoldtar to her other shoulder and set off for home. She could almost feel her Wyrd changing around her, her fate setting off for paths and futures unknown, and for once she welcomed the change, the choices opening up and the chances she would take. She was a Child of the Aett, and she would meet her fate as a true daughter of Russ, like her namesake would.


[[Category:Warhammer High]][[Category:Stories]]