from the sky. These were the Angels of Death who would take the dying soldiers not chosen by the Valkyries. They landed on the ground and folded their wings to wait for the choosing to finish.
The Reaping Mares all landed together several metres from the burning trucks. Freya climbed off Sylt and handed the reins to her oldest sister. As long as one of them touched the reins whilst wearing their helmet, the mares remained as invisible as the Valkyries.
‘Are you ready?’ Maya asked, coming up to her.
‘She is,’ Orus answered from Freya’s shoulder. ‘Aren’t you?’
Freya felt like there was a fist in her throat. She couldn’t swallow and could barely breathe. She nodded.
‘Ours is the last vehicle, the one on fire. There are two soldiers in there, waiting for us. Most of the others within it are destined to survive, so be extra careful not to touch them. But there are three others who will die and are to be taken by them.’ Maya indicated the Angels of Death.
As Freya looked at the closest angel, he bowed his head in respect to her. Freya returned the bow.
‘You’ll know who your warrior is when we enter,’ Maya finished.
‘I understand.’ Somehow Freya already knew who she was meant to reap. She could feel him calling to her. There was something about him – something good and very brave. He had lived a decent life and, though he lay dying, he felt no fear. She knew they were destined to meet. In all the other times she’d been to battlefields, she’d never felt this before. She couldn’t deny his call.
‘Remember,’ Maya said. ‘As long as you wear your armour, the flames can’t touch you, even if the truck explodes. We’ll just go in and reap the soldiers.’
Freya took a deep breath.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Orus said at her shoulder. ‘I’m right here with you.’
‘Thanks, Orus,’ Freya said as she followed her sister.
The sound of shouting and crying filled the air and the acrid smell of burning stung Freya’s nostrils. Several men in camouflage fatigues rushed past her, brushing against her wings. If they felt her there, they gave no indication. They ran into the back of the truck and started to pull out survivors.
‘Freya, come,’ Maya called. ‘Ignore them, we have work to do. The longer we delay, the more our warriors will suffer.’
Close behind her sister, Freya climbed into the back of the overturned truck. She crawled past the men struggling to get at survivors, being careful not to touch anyone as she headed towards the front of the vehicle.
The flames hadn’t reached the inside yet, but the smoke had. It was thick and choking. As the seconds ticked, the heat was increasing. The sight of the moaning soldiers around her made Freya all the more resentful towards humans. How could they do this to each other?
To her right she saw a female soldier with blood on her face and hair and her arm was obviously broken, but Freya could feel she was meant to live.
‘Over here,’ Maya called.
Up ahead, two men lay near each other. Maya was before one of them. He was covered in blood and appeared already dead. But as Maya knelt down beside him, he opened his eyes.
‘Do not fear me, brave warrior,’ Maya said gently. ‘I am here to bring you home.’
As she had done thousands of times before, Maya leaned forward and stroked the cheek of the soldier with her bare hand. ‘Come with me now. Leave this world of suffering behind you.’
The soldier actually thanked Maya as she touched him. His eyes closed and he died. Freya could see his spirit rise from his broken body, looking just the same as he had in life. He grinned and took Maya’s outstretched hand. Together they moved towards the opening of the truck.
‘Have you come for me? Am I going to die?’
Freya looked down at the face of the soldier who had spoken. He was the one she was to reap. His dark skin was covered in beads of sweat. A crimson stain was spreading on his shirt.
‘Yes,’ Freya said. ‘I am here to end your suffering.’
‘You can’t,’ the soldier’s voice rose, desperate. ‘I can’t die.’
Freya had heard warriors beg many times before. They would try anything to stop their death. They would plead, try to bargain or even fight. But in the end the Valkyries always succeeded.
‘Please don’t be afraid, warrior,’ Freya said gently.
‘I’m not frightened for myself,’ the soldier said. ‘But my family . .