Valkyrie: Spiritual Gifts, #2

By T. A. Seitz

Child of sunder dread, By fiend's thrill haunted;

 

Unlike her parents' blessings, Prinzessin Larena is cursed. Demons hunt her and those she loves. To keep from causing further harm, she embarks on a mission to find peace.

 

Child of lust and crave, Battle never wanted,

 

Trying to do the right thing as a boy cost Valdimar everything but his life. Now that he is a man, the time has come for him to reclaim his birthright.

 

Forge a path to pave.

 

A chance meeting teams the pair to explore the power and use of their abilities to benefit those at risk. But that power may come at too high a price.

 

Valkyrie is the second book in The Spiritual Gifts series by T. A. Seitz. It may also be read as a stand-alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiffany Seitz
• Release date: Jul 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201451523

Book preview

PROLOGUE

REIGN OF König Rorik I—Year 57

Where are you going, Papa?

Her father’s aqua gaze darted toward Larena. She would have been thrilled to have snuck up on him if not for the dismay etched on his handsome face. He was dressed for hunting, but the bag at his feet told her something else was going on. Something which had been whispered in the halls for the past few weeks. Nothing had made sense, even when her lady mother had abandoned last night’s feast with tears streaming from her blue eyes.

"Lara, Ǟngeli, why are you out of bed?" Kellan demanded in a hushed tone. He would not wish to disturb any in the palace. A worried frown crossed his face.

She answered honestly, although hiding her fear, Mama was crying, and the servants speak of a curse. And of war. Her voice lowered to a whisper at the last.

Kellan sighed as he handed his long sword to the soldier who waited in the shadows. Long, lean fingers ran through his dark hair in frustration as he knelt before her. "There is no curse, Ǟngeli. I hope to...visit with our neighbors."

Her confusion was evident in her response, If you seek to visit, why do you take your sword?

A grim smile haunted her father’s lips. One must be prepared in all instances. Kellan reached to his side and pulled one of the smaller daggers from his leather belt. He studied it for a brief moment before laying the leather-wrapped hilt in her tiny hand. This was my first weapon. It was a gift from your uncle, Kronprinz Derrick. I will give it to you with the understanding that you ask your brother to teach you how to use it safely.

I will, Papa.

And do not tell your Opa that you have it, her father added.

Yes, Papa.

Lara glanced from the simple blade to see the wistful look in Kellan’s eyes. He had long spoken of teaching his daughter to use a weapon, although Opa had forbidden her to have a blade. For him to relinquish his treasured dagger to her without fulfilling his plan spoke volumes. It was then she understood: Papa might not return.

Kellan started to say more, but stopped with a hard swallow. Instead, he touched the gold necklace on her chest. Do you like it?

Yes, Papa. I love it and will wear it always. Thank you again. Lara answered, confused by his question. The cross had been a traditional gift for her twelfth birthday. At the birthday feast held several weeks before, Kellan had presented it with an explanation of its meaning. Centered on the cross bars sat the family emblem: a triquetra which represented God, family, and the Krone.

Wear it well, then. It will remind you of.... he stopped, Derran, you might as well come forward. I will be unable to answer your questions if you hide in the passage.

Lara turned to see her older brother slip out from behind a tapestry. Their father had shown them the hidden passages throughout the palace and to observe in silence what others meant to keep secret. While the children were excellent students, they could never keep their presence hidden from the Kronprinz and his ghostly informants.

Father, I did not mean to spy on you. I only intended to follow and protect Lara. Derran began.

Lara fumed. She had no need for protection. She turned to tell her bother what she thought, but another voice forced her to remain silent.

Children, please, do not argue.

Yes, Mother. Both children answered the gentle, but firm command.

In the doorway, wearing a simple indigo robe over a plain, white nightdress, stood the Kronprinzessin Ariane with her ever-present guard dog, Mutig. As usual, Lara’s eyes were drawn to her mother’s single adornment. The bright-colored sash had always fascinated her. Ariane was rarely seen without it dangling from her waist. The belt was said to be enhanced by spirits, but Lara had yet to comprehend what that meant. She did know its fibers glowed a faint green when she dared to touch the trim, while her mother’s hand brought a bright blue glow from the weave.

From a young age, Lara had understood her family held both great power and incredible gifts. The power came as being part of the royal family of Weinrebe. As Kronprinz, Kellan was heir to the throne held by his father, König Rorik the First. The gifts were considered blessings, and a responsibility, but were not commonly known in the general population. Her mother possessed the God-given gift of healing and used her skills to promote wellness through-out the country, while her father was able to interact with the dead. Since childhood, Kellan had used his ability to protect the Krone from espionage and treason through his network of ghosts. At fifteen, Derran had shown no signs of a spiritual gift, but Lara was certain her ability was no gift at all.

It was a curse.

Kellan stood at the sight of his wife. Ariane, my love, you should have remained in bed.

His voice was full of the longing and love which Lara had witnessed her entire life.

I could not stay away. Ariane tried with little success to keep her tears at bay.

Kellan started to say something, but stopped. Instead, he stared at Lara, then Derran. With a hand on each of their faces, he dropped a tender kiss on each child’s forehead before rising and taking his wife in his arms.

With a muted sob, Ariane wrapped her arms around her husband and held tight.

Be safe, my love. were the only words Lara could hear through her mother’s muffled sobs.

Her father pulled away to drag Ariane into a desperate kiss. Lara watched the belt glow brighter as the blue hue was joined by a bright white. The colors danced in twining glory as evidence of her parents’ love.

While displays of affection were normal, although infrequent, between her parents, this exchange made Lara fearful. They were saying goodbye.

Without another word, Kellan released his wife and stepped back. He grabbed the bag waiting at the door and called to a guard outside. The guard accepted the travel pack and disappeared. Only then did the Kronprinz look back at his family.

In a serious tone, he looked to his son, Derran, I expect you to act in my stead. Protect your mother and sister, as you have always done. Keep up with your studies and help Opa with the Krone until I return.

Derran gave a solemn nod. I will, Father.

Lara did not want to meet her father’s gaze, but was forced to when he spoke.

"Lara, my Ǟngeli, help your mother and brother, but stay safe. When I return, we will ride to the ocean so you might draw the creatures we find hidden among the rocks."

The promise did nothing to dampen the dread Lara felt. I would like that, Papa.

Ariane, my love.

Kellan, my love.

Nothing more was said between them. After a shared look filled with longing and devotion, Kellan slipped into the darkness.

Mutig released a whimper which evolved into a mournful howl.

Lara still did not understand anything beyond the fact that her father had left. If he had left on a hunt, Derran would have accompanied him. This was no hunt. Mother, where is Papa going?

Ariane stole an unsteady breath before answering, He goes to Te Tradgard.

Lara gasped and glanced at her brother who looked equally stunned.

For what purpose? Derran dared to ask.

Their mother offered a watery smile. To make peace.

ONE

REIGN OF KÖNIG RORIK I—Year 58

"Skynda."

An urgent whisper cut through the incessant pounding in Kellan’s head. At first his sluggish brain thought the ghosts had finally chosen to speak, but then he recognized the shadow standing at his side.

Valdimar?

He was not seeing things. Beside his cot stood the young man whom he had first befriended upon his arrival in this God-forsaken country. Vald’s had been the sole welcome he had received once his ship landed in the Te Tradgardian port; the boy had been eager to meet a foreign dignitary. His otherwise meager welcome had lasted no more than two days before he was accused of spying and thrown into a prison cell to rot. After two months of imprisonment, Vald was the first friendly face to turn up. The boy had been a regular source of fresh food and water, as well as information.

Kellan cursed under his breath, What are you doing here?

"There is no time, skynda. Skynda." In his native language, the boy reiterated the need to hurry with a nervous glance to the door.

The door was secured from the other side. Neither the boy, nor Kellan, nor the prison’s ghostly inhabitants had been able to pick the lock to gain his freedom.

How did you...?

Vald clamped a gloved hand over Kellan’s mouth. If you wish to remove yourself from this cell, you must come with me. And be silent.

Kellan suppressed a cough which triggered an echoing spasm in his temple as he removed the grimy leather from his face. He bit back another curse at the aches and pains of his worn and weary body. A quick nod to the boy, who reminded him all too much of his own son, gave his agreement.

Instead of Derran’s fair features and lean build, Vald was destined to become a fiery giant among a league of overgrown countrymen. The stocky redhead already stood a fist above Kellan and did not appear likely to stop any time soon.

Despite his reluctance to discuss his history, the boy had been a frequent visitor to the prison cell and listened with rapt attention to stories of Weinrebe, although Kellan omitted much of the information regarding his family. The walls had ears and he had no wish to provide fodder for an attack on the Krone. He could tell the young man was starved for attention but would deny the need with his final breath. Kellan treated the boy as a son and provided the parental guidance which Vald desperately sought.

A brief glance around the dank cell showed the ghost he referred to as Henry standing guard at the door. He wondered where Amos was. What is your plan, young Vald?

To get you out of here. came the distracted, but terse reply.

Kellan had assumed as much. You will be punished, possibly killed. Do not risk yourself on my account.

It was a likelihood he did not wish to be burdened with no matter how much he wanted to return to his family. Ariane’s face haunted his dreams. He did not permit her distraction now.

Vald spared him a sharp glance. Bitterness dripped from his words, "They can do nothing that has not been done in the past. If I die, it will be in a fight for what is right. You have taught me this, nej?"

Right or wrong, I do not wish to have your death on my soul. Kellan argued but knew without a doubt that the boy was determined. He had learned little of the mysterious lad in the past year, other than the boy was near in age to Derran, and he came and went within the cursed walls which imprisoned him. Now Vald demonstrated a grit which impressed, but dismayed, the older man.

"C/.ome, min Herre. It is time. Vald pulled his mentor and friend into the corner of the cell, begging him to hurry. Skynda."

Kellan wisely held his protest and watched as the young man grasped the lower edge of the high window. He despised that window. It was miniscule in size, allowing little but a small beam of light and a cacophony of sound to filter in, but the placement did not permit a view of the outer world. He had never been able to determine his location and any shouts for attention did nothing but attract the guards who shut him up with their fists and booted feet. He possessed no knowledge which might aid the boy other than it was late evening and raucous drunkards roamed the avenue below.

Vald pulled his lean body weight up with one arm and placed a foot against the bricked wall. With a grunt and a mighty shove, the brick shifted with a loud scrape.

Kellan jumped forward to aid his rescuer, hoping the noise would not be heard over the celebratory mood outside. The two quickly opened an ancient hidden portal wide enough to squeeze through.

The prince smiled. I knew you would find a way. Good work!

Although the boy acknowledged the praise with a stiff nod, Kellan could tell Vald was pleased.

Many stories had been shared over the past few months, mostly from Kellan’s side. He guessed the boy was the son of a noble and spent much time within the castle. Vald had an amazing knowledge of the workings of the palace and dungeons, but the concept of possible hidden passageways had been a revelation which sent Kellan’s apprentice on a mission.

One side of Vald’s mouth lifted in a hint of a smile. I wish I had found this passage sooner. As it was, it took me two weeks to find the release.

So that was the scratching noise I have been hearing, Kellan mused. I thought the rats had returned with a vengeance.

Rats? You thought me a rat? I could simply leave you here. Vald lost the battle to grouse at his mentor as a toothy grin emerged along with a hint of pride.

Kellan clapped the boy on the back and returned the smile.

It disappeared a second later.

Henry’s hissed warning preceded the chilling sensation of a ghostly hand passing through Kellan’s body. He had almost forgotten Henry and Amos, his silent and invisible prison companions. Kellan had not been able to determine if the shades had been guards or prisoners in life. No matter. He was grateful for the company even if it consisted of one-sided conversation or uncomfortable touches.

The spirit duo often resorted to touch as a means of communication but did not understand that pushing him out of harm’s way did nothing but send shudders down his spine. Either the pair had never learned or refused to speak. The physical contact was rarely necessary with the spirits in Weinrebe.

A second chill raced through Kellan’s spine as a ghostlike hand shoved through his body in a failed attempt to push him and Vald through the portal. The sound of keys rattled at the door forcing both men to freeze.

Wake up, ya bloody wretch!

Oi! What d’ya think ya doing, ya daft bastard?

I’s gotsh to in...intero...question a spy, came the slurred response.

Henry quickly dissipated into thin air as Kellan caught Vald’s terrified gaze. The boy hid his sudden reaction to the guards outside the cell as he edged toward the open portal. His boot made a slight shuffling noise against the dusty floor, forcing him to freeze.

A scuffle was heard outside. Give dem keys ta me! demanded the second man. Ya can’t ev’n see t’ keyhole. Ya be too drunk to get any answers from that un.

I’m not drunk! You be the one who’s downed a keg and...What’s that?

What’s what?

I heard something down...

This time Kellan started as he heard a crashing noise in a nearby cell followed by the curses of the two inebriated guards looking for trouble. The silent ghosts were quite capable of creating a commotion if the situation warranted. He had little time to wonder what the noise might be as Henry returned with Amos at his side.

He gave Vald a nod and the boy slipped into the hidden passage. Before following, Kellan turned to his spirit companions. He did not know if they were bound to this dungeon or not, but he felt he should offer an escape if they needed one. If you desire, you may follow wherever I go.

The pair glanced at each other and then turned to stare at their living cellmate.

Kellan did not know what to make of the lack of response but could wait no longer. With a twinge of regret, he turned to the opening and stepped into pitch darkness where Vald waited. Together the two men sealed the opening and felt their way along the narrow passage.

ARIANE SURVEYED THE chaos, unable to breathe against the horror spread throughout the room.

Not again.

It was times such as these when she wished for Kellan at her side. He understood so much better than she.

She offered a silent prayer for the injured before her. Father Johannes knelt by one of the maids to inspect for wounds. He would provide triage for her. Fortunately, there were only two and neither appeared to have suffered much damage.

Three, she corrected herself as her eyes caught a bundle of yellow fur lying motionless near the brick fireplace.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach where it remained with cold dread. Her blue eyes rose to meet those of the one she feared responsible. Not guilty of the crime so much as being the one who was unable to control the evil.

Mama, I am sorry. Lara’s voice broke as she struggled to regain her equilibrium. I did not mean for this to happen.

No, Daughter, I understand. Ariane hoped her beloved companion was not seriously injured. What of Mutig?

Lara sobbed, He was protecting me. I think I....

Ariane started toward her daughter but stopped as Derran limped over. Seeing her son wrap his calming arms around his sister, Ariane and the Father exchanged knowing glances.

With a nod from the priest, Ariane changed her course for the dog’s side. On closer inspection, her worst fear was realized.

Mutig was at peace.

A shadow covered the body. Ariane looked up to find Father Johannes by her side. She stepped aside for the holy man to offer a prayer over the beloved older dog which had protected her and her children so well for over sixteen years.

Derran led Lara over. Engulfing the sobbing girl in her arms, Ariane tried to comfort her daughter. A large hand joined hers on the child’s shaking shoulder. Her gaze rose to the gentle eyes of her friend and priest. The look in Father Johannes’s eyes informed her that he recalled the same memory.

How are you this fine day that the Lord has so graciously made, Your Highness?

Startled from her thoughts, Ariane turned to find Father Johannes at the portal of her study and work room. At the sight of her aging friend, she attempted to wipe evidence of her concern from her face with a smile. I am well, Father. And yourself?

To her relief, the ready smile on the priest’s countenance held no obvious signs of discomfort.

The Lord blesses me today, my child. What are you searching for and may I be of assistance?

I am taking an inventory. Between your aching joints and Kellan’s head, I am running low on willow bark. I must send Derran to fetch more to make the tincture.

The priest grunted, If my aching joints would permit, I would harvest an entire forest of willow for your remedy. As it is, I believe that the paste you concocted works just as well for my daily pains. I am able to save the tincture for days when the weather is less agreeable.

Ariane sighed as she checked her stock of arnica and aloe. It would not do to run low on the items which kept her friend moving about the Lord’s business.

Noting a sufficient quantity of each for another batch of cream, she replied. If that is acceptable, then by all means, use them in that manner. I do not wish for you to refrain from pain relief simply because my stores are diminished.

Father Johannes answered, It is enough and will save more white willow for His Highness. I know his condition concerns you.

With that statement, Ariane stopped her search and fiddled with an empty bottle. Trust the holy man to read her worries about her husband and seek her out.

I do not understand, Father. Ariane turned to face her friend and trusted advisor. The headaches worsen, but I can find no cause.

Father Johannes rested against her work table with his arms crossed over his chest. Does your healing not affect him, my dear?

Only temporarily, if at all. Perhaps it is not God’s will for him to be healed. A silent sob stuck in her throat.

He hesitated before asking the question she dreaded, Do you believe it to be serious?

Ariane braced herself for the flood of emotions which stole her breath and threatened to release her sorrow. If anything were to happen to Kellan, she was not sure if she would survive. I do not get a sense of doom when his pain strikes. But neither do I have a sense of the cause.

She glanced up to ensure the older man understood her meaning. In the many years since she and Kellan had healed the other’s body and soul, they had shared a bond which delved more deeply than their marriage vows. When one was ill or injured, the elaborate marks which graced their backs gave discomfort, either physical or emotional. The couple had learned not to ignore the sensations of their tattoos.

Doing so had cost them dearly.

Father Johannes stood tapping his lip with a finger, lost in thought. After a moment he asked, Can you tell me of them?

Ariane inhaled before explaining, The onset is often rapid and its departure is just as sudden.

Can you find no pattern to the attacks?

She closed her eyes, not wanting to say her thoughts aloud. There is one, but I....

A warm hand grasped her shoulder, forcing her eyes open to meet an equally warm gaze. The child?

Her heart lurched with dismay. Others had made the same realization which she had only shared with Kellan.

Reluctantly, Ariane forced herself to nod and whisper, She is always near when the pain strikes. And when she leaves, the headache....

Stops. The priest finished for her.

It is the creatures. A small voice whispered from behind.

Ariane and Father Johannes spun to face the door where a small child of six stood with tears streaming down her face.

Larena. Ariane started toward her daughter, but the look of sorrow in the Lara’s eyes stayed her approach. What creatures, Daughter?

Lara remained silent.

What creatures, little Highness? Father Johannes asked as he gathered the child in his arms.

The priest could get the girl to speak when no others could.

With a swallow of her tears, Lara pointed to the corner by the door. Those. They follow me everywhere. They make Father ill.

Ariane looked around. There was nothing there. I do not see....

The priest silenced her with a wave of his hand. Darling Child, what do these creatures do to cause your father’s pain?

The girl gazed solemnly at the older man. They hunt.

Hunt what? Ariane’s fear made her voice tremble.

The child seemed afraid to speak until Father Johannes whispered encouragement in her small ear.

They seek my soul.

The memory faded leaving the sound of choking sobs of the child in her arms. The same one which feared for her soul. Lara, my daughter, it is all right. We do not....

Lara fought to be free of her arms and stumbled from the room. Ariane made to go after her, but a large hand stopped her.

Let her go, Your Highness. Father Johannes murmured. She must find her strength.

Ariane nearly collapsed under the weight of her own sorrow and fear. How can Lara find strength when they will not leave her be?

The priest did not speak immediately. She has been given a gift. We must help her learn to use it.

But how? she moaned. Kellan is the only one who can see what we cannot, and even he did not recognize the dangers. If he were here....

She let the wish drift away. The child had no defenses against the demons. Although Kellan was unable to help his daughter, at least he had the ability to see ghosts. He had been Lara’s greatest hope for understanding and acceptance. Since his departure, the demons which plagued their daughter had escalated.

Father Johannes nodded then looked thoughtfully after the departed child. Perhaps I may be of some assistance. I had similar discussions with His Highness during his formative years.

Please, Father. Ariane prayed the holy man could help Lara. I do not know what else to do.

Place your trust in the Lord, my child. He advised. In the meantime, there are those who would benefit from your gifts. Focus your energy on them.

Ariane wiped the tears from her face before turning to Derran. He answered her unspoken question by diverting her attention to a maid with an arm injury.

LARA RAN FOR WHAT SEEMED hours, halting when the stitch in her side forced her to stop. She was determined to get as far away from her home as she could.

A sharp pain in her side brought her to her knees by a small pond behind a dilapidated shack. The early afternoon sun glinting off the still waters was disturbed by an occasional flopping fish. None but the birds singing in the trees above were present. Not even the demons could find her in this peaceful location.

I will be safe here. Thank the Lord.

She sank onto a flat rock hanging low over the water and stripped off her shoes and stockings. A silvery mark on her heel caught her attention.

The black and white marks etched on her parents’ backs were rarely visible, but the story had been told many times with much love and awe. Ariane had healed Kellan’s broken soul, resulting in the bold lines of the triquetra which marked much of the skin of their backs. His lines showed in black, while hers were white.

When Ariane was fatally stabbed, Kellan had borrowed energy from both the living and the dead to heal not only his wife’s body, but her damaged soul. The resulting mark was a floral vine which overlapped the previous mark in reversed coloration. Pregnant with Derran at the time, the infant Prinz was born with the entwined vines shaped into a silver heart. Like the one on her heel.

It was the mark of her birth; the mark of her parents’ love.

She did not deserve the emblem of