Mark of the Raven

By Alyssa Breck

Kára and Gram have dreams but when Kára is taken by the gods to serve her true calling as a Valkyrie, all her mortal plans are destroyed and she begins fulfilling her destiny reaping warriors for Odin.

Left behind, Gram searches for Kára and still wonders what happened to her on the snowy night she vanished. After the death of his mother five winters later, the prophetic raven appears to him, signaling that his demise is on the horizon.

With Gram’s impending death sealed in stone, Kára wagers a deal with the gods that could reunite the two lovers in Valhalla or doom them both forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wicked Wants
• Release date: Apr 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533709844

Book preview

DEDICATION

FOR CHRISTINA NELSON Cummings, my great-grandmother and the link to my Nordic roots. I wish I’d had the opportunity to know you.

Chapter One

WINTER SETTLED IN AND a light spattering of snow covered the grounds of the village. Although she was well into her sixteenth year, Kára still loved to wrap herself in a pelt and listen to the elders tell the tales of days gone by. She especially liked Egil’s stories.

The fire crackled and popped. Red hot embers floated up in the air passing the falling snowflakes. Flickering shadows danced over the old man’s face as he spoke in a deep, melodic cadence.

The fair-haired maidens stood along the shore waiting for the bravest warriors. The white caps washed over their bare feet. Axes and swords glowed by the light of the moon as the Northmen overtook the raiders of the land. Egil raised his hands towards the heavens. The mighty Valkyries swoop in to retrieve the fallen. It is they who will be whisked away to fight beside Odin himself and partake in great feasts with more fish and boar than you could ever imagine.

Egil’s sightless eyes resembled two pale moons set deep in a gaunt face as he related the story of the Valkyries, the wish maidens.

Every little girl in Svanhild dreamed of being one of Odin’s angels, the blonde beauties who rode majestic horses along the shorelines and escorted the fearless warriors to Valhalla. It was a romantic notion but Kára was skeptical. Surely there was a downside to the wish maidens’ duties. She imagined maybe they were more likely undertakers for the dead, forced to dig holes and bury stinking corpses. Maybe Valhalla wasn’t beautiful and rich with gold, and overflowing with mead. Of course, Egil never spoke ill of the gods or Valkyries. To do so was to invite their wrath.

Across the fire from Egil, Kára sat beside Gram and gave him a discreet smile. He winked at her and returned his attention to the storyteller. Gram’s profile was strong with a straight nose and square jaw that his beard was just beginning to cover. Long dark brown tresses fell past his shoulders. Some sections were braided while the rest hung loose.

The two had grown up as neighbors and lived in the same longhouses built by their fathers. She remembered when Gram had taught her to swim when she was five. That was the summer she fell in love with him while he stood in the sea and held her head above water.

The wind carried a chill that bit through even the thick fur of her coat and made her bones feel brittle as icicles. But that quickly turned to a deep, smoldering heat when Gram reached for her. The large pelt she wore concealed their joined hands from the others gathered around the fire.

She pretended to listen to the words but her attention was on Gram’s thumb rubbing her knuckles. That simple touch caused her body to stir like nothing else and she could not wait to be alone with him.

The old man left the group with an unfinished story as he often did. The strategy ensured Egil would have an audience the next night. Kára thought the parents put him up to it to have the children out of the house for an hour each night after all the chores and evening meals were completed. No matter, Kára was there to see Gram. She knew the stories, but Egil always gave them a different spin.

May the gods bless and keep you all. Egil retrieved a leather pouch from a pocket in his coat. He poured some of the contents into the palm of his hand and tossed the black powder into the fire. A whoosh of sparkles exploded from the flames, twisting like a cyclone into the night sky.

Kára untangled her hand from Gram’s and stood. After brushing the dust from her pelt, she gave Gram a glance over her shoulder. A quick smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned to speak to the child sitting on his other side. Despite the chill in the air, heat crept into her cheeks.

As Kára passed Egil, the old man reached out and grabbed her arm. His bony fingers bit into her flesh. Aiming his sightless eyes at her face, he whispered something that was drowned out by the crackling of the fire.

Kára leaned down toward him. What did you say?

Do not waiver your route this night. Go straight home.

She smiled and patted his hand. I will.

It was a lie. She never went straight home. Instead, she walked away from the fire and veered off course toward the barn behind her family’s house.

GRAM LINGERED BEHIND warming his hands over the fire. He’d watched Kára leave with a hitch in his chest. Maybe tonight he wouldn’t have to go home with that familiar raging erection and ache in his balls that forced him to