Valkyrie (Kate O'Hearn) - By Kate O'Hearn Page 0,14

of Loki’s hands was behind his back.

As the Watchman stood before him, Loki brought his hand forward and blew a powder up into his face. Heimdall staggered back and collapsed to the ground. Loki dropped his arm, giving Freya the signal to move.

‘This is it, Orus!’ Freya called as she tilted her wings, changed direction and flew with all her might towards the entrance of Bifröst. Freya clutched the raven in her hands as she gained more speed.

In a flash she was passing over Heimdall and flying into the bright colours of the Rainbow Bridge. She did not slow as she reached the halfway point. Nor did she look back to see if Heimdall had noticed and was chasing after her. All she wanted, all she needed, was to get to Earth.

CHAPTER FIVE

Bifröst was a living bridge. Anyone who used it to reach Earth knew they could not control where it would send them or where they would arrive. In this case, when Freya flew free of the rainbow colours she discovered that she was soaring high above Europe. Like in Asgard, it was night.

As part of her training to be a Valkyrie, Freya had studied in detail the geography and history of all the countries of Earth, including their ever-changing borders. She was trained in warfare and knew details of every battle fought since the dawn of time. She herself, while growing up, had attended many of the battlefields to watch the Valkyries work.

Setting a course, she headed towards the United States. It had been a long time since she had been to this country. Soon they were soaring over a vast ocean.

‘Are we there yet?’ Orus panted. ‘My wings are about to fall off.’

They had been flying all night to reach Chicago. Like Orus, she was growing fatigued. But unlike him, her larger wingspan meant she could fly longer and further without tiring, than he could. She opened her arms. ‘Here, let me carry you for a while.’

Orus gratefully flew into Freya’s embrace. ‘I wish Bifröst had taken us closer,’ she said. ‘We’ve lost time getting here.’

‘Sometimes I think that bridge knows where we want to go and does its best to send us as far away from our destination as possible.’

Freya hugged the cynical raven. ‘Did anyone ever tell you you have a dark streak?’

‘You do,’ Orus said. ‘All the time.’

They continued in silence and entered daylight. Before long they approached the boundaries of the United States. Freya knew where Illinois was, and even Chicago. But she needed help finding Lincolnwood, the town just outside Chicago where Tyrone Johnson lived.

Flying high over farmland, the landscape beneath them soon changed. Autumn-coloured fields and trees with their falling leaves of blazing reds and oranges made way for incredibly tall buildings and heavily congested streets as Chicago loomed straight ahead.

Freya pulled in her wings and landed on one of the tallest buildings. Two white metal antennae rose high above her and the rooftop was cluttered with equipment and strangely shaped structures. But it offered the perfect place to hide while she got her bearings.

‘Let’s take a break for a moment while I try to figure out where we’re going.’

She released Orus and removed her helmet. Instantly, the sights, sounds and colours of Chicago hit her. She looked down at the busy streets teeming with people. Car horns blared, police sirens squealed and all around were the sounds of life. She saw a river cutting its way through the city with many handsome bridges crossing over it.

The sensations were nothing like she’d ever experienced before. She could sense the people’s laughter, joy, sorrow, fear, hatred and love. Every emotion merged together in a great wave of feelings rising up to her.

She peered over the side of the rooftop in excitement. ‘Isn’t it amazing? Look at all the people. They aren’t fighting or killing each other! Loki was right, Earth can be beautiful.’

Orus cawed. ‘You think this is beautiful? It’s filthy. The air is choked with poison and there are too many people. I can’t hear myself think with all this noise. Let’s go back to Asgard before we are missed.’

‘You can go back if you want, but I’m not going anywhere. Not until we’ve seen Tyrone’s family.’

Orus huffed in surrender. ‘How do we find him in all of this? It’s not like you can go down there and ask directions.’

‘Tyrone said he lived north of the city in a place called Lincolnwood. Number forty-five, Smith Street. We can fly north and