this was true or not. In his bare arms he carried his famous spear, Gungnir.
Freya had never been this close to Odin before and the sight of him petrified her. All the wild stories told about him and his strength and battle prowess now seemed possible as she stood before him.
Standing behind Odin was his wife, Frigg. She too was dressed in her golden battle armour and in her hands was the new silver breastplate that was to be given to Freya. Her long blonde hair was neatly styled in two bejewelled braids that almost reached down to her fur-lined boots. It was said she was the most beautiful woman in Asgard. Up close, Freya could see it was true. The only one who could ever rival her beauty was Freya’s own sister, Maya.
Beside Frigg was Thor. He was the spitting image of his father, Odin, except for the colour of his hair. Thor’s hair was long and blond; only his beard showed a trace of his father’s red. Thor stood stone-faced and unmoving as his blue eyes bored into her. He was clutching his hammer, Mjölnir, in one hand and holding a newly crafted winged helmet in the other.
It was said that Thor didn’t have a lot of time for the Valkyries and, by the dark expression on his face, Freya could see that this was true. What caused the animosity remained a mystery. But for as long as she had lived, Freya had done her best to avoid him and his sharp tongue.
Standing back against the wall behind the dais was Loki, the trickster and unrelated blood-brother to Odin. Unlike the other men of Asgard, he wasn’t strongly built, nor did he wear armour or carry a weapon. He had long dark-brown hair and sparkling, mischievous eyes. Freya knew even less about him than she did Thor. Only that, for reasons untold, Odin tolerated his presence in Asgard despite all the trouble he liked to cause. Her mother said he was dangerous and was always warning Freya to stay away from him.
As he caught her eye, he gave her a charming grin and bowed elegantly.
Odin cleared his throat loudly to ensure he had everyone’s attention. ‘Welcome to this final First Day Ceremony.’ He dropped his eyes and they landed directly on Freya.
‘Freya, today you are the last to join your sisters in the reaping. This is a sombre occasion indeed, filled with reverence for a time-honoured tradition assigned only to the Valkyries. It falls upon you to bring only the best of the slain to me, here at Valhalla. They have earned their place among the glorious dead and share in the celebration of battle . . .’
Freya stood before Odin, trying her best to stay focused and listen to every word of his long speech, but as the moments passed it was becoming harder and harder.
To her, there was no glory in being a warrior killed in battle. It was wasteful. Where were art, music and all the other parts that made up a life? Maya kept insisting there was more to the World of Man than just fighting. But if that was so, why did Odin revere it as he did?
As her eyes drifted around the Great Hall, she saw how everyone hung on Odin’s every word. How they murmured in agreement as he spoke of the glorious dead and of battles fought and won. Looking at the masses of people surrounding her, Freya had never felt more alone.
Why was she so different?
Why couldn’t she feel the same way everyone else did?
A sharp nip at her ear brought her out of her reverie. She stole a quick look at Orus on her shoulder. ‘Freya, stop daydreaming!’ he warned softly. ‘Prepare to swear your oath.’
With a quick nod, Freya turned her attention back to Odin. She hadn’t been aware of his speech and suddenly realized he was now deep into telling the story of Frigha, the runaway Valkyrie.
‘It gave me no joy to blind and de-wing her,’ he was saying. ‘Finally she was banished from her home in Asgard. To this day, she wanders the Earth alone, lost in her shame and betrayal . . .’
On and on Odin droned, giving warning to all Valkyries that once they swear the oath, they are bound to their duties. Freya wondered if he ever stopped talking long enough to actually breathe.
Finally he offered her his large hand. ‘Come forward, Freya,’ he commanded.
‘Go on,’ Orus ordered into her ear. ‘This