The Valkyrie (2 page)

Glory found
herself in one of those village halls that had tables that folded,
chairs that creaked and a spare packet of plastic cups underneath
the sink in the kitchen. It was where middle England went to
apathetically vote, sold cakes in aid of charities they didn’t
really believe in, and where their sons learnt how to tie knots
from ever so slightly creepy but ultimately harmless men. That day
however it was full of young immortal women of various shapes and
sizes. Some girls/young women/the ovaried looked expectant, others
bewildered, one at the back looked bored. Amongst the throng sat
the said bored girl of indeterminable origin. This was Bea.
Unfortunately for Bea one of the silliest girls in the room had sat
next to her and decided they that she was going to be her friend.
Having taken an aforementioned creaky chair next to Bea, this girl
leaned over and attempted to make the sort of small talk that
forges lasting friendships. “So you’re a nymph yeah, you look
watery? I’m a dryad: oak trees all the way. What are you like
thinking of joining? My mum used to be, like, one of Artemis’s
virgins before, well you know until my dad raped her. I might join
Artemis you know, I don’t know if she’s looking. It could be fun.
Shooting stuff is kind of, like, cool and I love camping.” The girl
said.

“Artemis is the
goddess of chastity right? Wouldn’t you miss sex?” Bea asked.

“That’s true. I
hadn’t thought about that. Do you have to be, like, a virgin when
you join? I think I’m technically a virgin. Well, maybe.”

Thankfully at
that point a vision in pink walked on to the tiny stage: a
purposeful and fickle creature who ruined mortal lives for
amusement. There stood Fortune, cruel and handsome in her coral
skirt suit and court shoes, her neat pearl earrings and her gore.
“Right settle down, settle down. Now I am sure most of you know who
I am. Well it’s wonderful to see so many of you girls here today
for the latest in our series of talks on career paths for lesser
immortals and demigods. I hope you find it most instructive in
taking those ever important steps forward. Don’t forget that there
are pamphlets at the back with further information, right next to
the ambrosia table. Ahem.” Fortune arched an eyebrow at Glory
standing next to the table humming the opening bars of Oh Fortuna.
Glory revelled in smoking a freshly lit cigarillo as she poured
vodka into one of those plastic cups already half full of ambrosia,
the food of the gods. She stopped pouring, picked up a leaflet on
being one of Freya’s handmaidens and silently pissed herself with
laughter.

“Excuse me you
can’t smoke in here, there’s a sign on the wall by the kitchen
about that.” Fortune said.

“Fuck off” was
Glory’s reply.

“Okay... Well
then, our first speakers will be Olympians, then we’ll move onto
the Norse and after a short break we’ll hear talks from the
Egyptian, Shinto, Aztec and Taoist pantheons. Camelot is not
recruiting this year as are none of the other pantheons. So first
things first: Athena.” Fortune vacated the stage and threw Glory a
look that was crossed between annoyance and interest: Glory had a
reputation.

Athena had been
waiting at the side of the stage for Fortune to announce her. You
had to have known her tremendously well to notice that she looked a
little off. Very few knew her well at all, but Glory had picked up
the faintest of cues and assumed that her father Zeus had been up
to something terrible again. Athena wasn’t nervous or anything as
feeble as that, but there was something in her expression that
showed that her mind was working overtime. She had the manner of a
microbiologist and the left hook of prize fighter. Athena took to
the stage in sensible clothes, sensible shoes and a sensible
outlook on the world.

Athena leaned
across a lectern and surveyed the crowd “Good morning all, I shall
speak plainly as most of you lack any veritable cerebral ability. I
am looking for archivist librarians, approximately forty three of
them. I have a large collection of material that needs to be
correctly classified and stored. This should turn out to be a most
enthralling task for any budding taxonomists.” The room was silent
for a very long minute until a few chairs inevitably creaked.

“Riveting” said
Glory, her comment audible only to a few at the back, all of whom
were a little embarrassed, well except for Bea who smirked. Athena
started talking again for quite some time about something awfully
dull. Glory managed to block her out. After a good twenty minutes
Athena walked off the stage having noted a few poor lambs who
looked bookish enough for the task. The room began to chatter.
Fortune waltzed back on stage, having enjoyed the awkwardness a
little too much.

“Lovely. I
forgot to mention that there will be forms going around later for
anyone who wants to apply for any of the vacant positions. Please
complete the forms in Latin and not English with black ballpoint
and in capital letters. Right so our second speaker is also an
Olympian, Dionysius.” Fortune smiled to the room, lapping up the
fraught tension as some of the wiser girls braced themselves for
Dionysius’s entrance.

“Wassup girls?”
Dionysius lurched on to the stage with a leer and a full glass of
red wine in hand “I’m looking for a few more Maenads. So how many
of you like drinking eh?” He looked around desperately. Dionysius
was clearly very drunk, again.

“Filth” Glory
yelled as half of the room giggled.

“Anyone? Anyone
at all? No? It’s basically, drinking, screwing and occasionally
tearing people to pieces in a frenzy.” Dionysius said as he
accidently threw his Chateauneuf du Pape over the girls on the
front row. He was treading the fine line between looking fun and
trying not to throw up on himself. Eventually after some coaxing
from Fortune he hiccupped off stage dejectedly whilst the crowd
murmured and/or tweeted what they had just witnessed.

“Great, thank
you Dionysius.” Fortune said having seen him off “Next is Sigyn of
Asgard here to talk about being one of Freya’s handmaidens.”
Fortune announced. This was some of the best fun she’d had all
week.

An insipid
doormat walked on to the stage. “Um hi all, I’m Sigyn. I’m married
to Loki and I am also one of Freya’s handmaidens, so I have it
all.” Sigyn laughed through her little speech as if convincing
herself “Yeah, so, handmaidens basically plait hair and make sure
that Freya’s shoes and dresses match. Oh and we go and buy nail
varnish. Um, yeah, we don’t get involved in the war bit just the
beauty side.”

“Too tragic to
heckle.” Glory said on a wispy breath. No one heard her nor did
they need to. She looked at Sigyn blushing from the room’s
attention and felt what she thought might be guilt. She’d read
about how the mortals feel guilty when they’ve done something they
know they shouldn’t have done, but she wasn’t sure that she was
capable of feeling that way. Either way she knew she was ruining
Sigyn’s marriage, if she hadn’t ruined it already. After a minute
of awkward giggling and silly questions from the audience Sigyn
toddled off stage. She looked proud of herself. Undoubtedly she’d
been practising in her bathroom mirror for some time.

Fortune walked
back on stage “Fantastic. So our last speaker for this half of the
morning is almost interesting, not many spots come up within the
Valkyries. So without further ado here is Glory Britannica,
commander of elite Valkyrie Unit 401. You may recognise her from
World War Two or something else horrid.”

At this point
Glory should have looked lively but instead she sauntered slowly
towards the stage. She barely clocked a tall god enter at the back
of the hall, but boy did he notice her. Glory looked at the
expectant crowd and started making a speech that she most
definitely hadn’t Blue Petered and prepared earlier: “Konichiwa
bitches. Now I’m not going to lie, most of you look too basic to be
anywhere near me. We’re not even recruiting at the moment, Liberty
told me to be here and I wanted this morning off to get over my
hangover.” At this inopportune moment Glory’s phone went off and
her Wagnerian ring tone echoed across the hall. “Hey Valour, why
are you ringing me you’re supposed to be pissing about in Asia
Minor? You’re still in bed? With who? Seriously. Why? No really
why? Are you shitting me? With his tongue? Mate lock that shit
down, he’s a unicorn. Does he have any brothers? That has to be an
inherited trait? No aw, how cute is his dad? Alright I accept your
resignation. You know you don’t have to leave just because you
probably got impregnated by an elf last night. Can I be a
bridesmaid? I’d look lovely in the photos. Ok sweetheart chat
later.” She put her phone down and leaned across the lectern and
glared “Right well, so actually I am now hiring. Does anyone have
any questions?”

With leaflet in
hand the girl who had failed to befriend Bea stood up and asked
“So, if I was a Valkyrie would I have an allowance for shoes like
you do if you’re one of Freya’s handmaidens?”

“Was that a
serious question or are you just fucking with me?” Glory asked from
on high.

“Am I fucking
with you? Or rather am I fucking you?” said the handsome god who
had walked in on the careers seminar for female immortals and
lesser goddesses. He was a bit thick, and he was most certainly not
a teenaged nymph.

“Are there any
other questions?” Glory asked, ignoring him.

“Are you
wearing sunglasses indoors because you’re too cool or because you
did a tonne of MDMA before coming on stage?” Bea asked.

“Which do you
think?” Glory asked.

“MDMA” Bea
asked.

“Hullo? You
still haven’t answered my question.” The handsome god
interjected.

“She clearly is
fucking you mate.” Bea said.

“You’re name?”
Glory asked.

He sighed and
said “Thor, come on you know who I am.”

“Not you, you
dumb prick. I’m Bea.”

“Bea, you’re
hired. Thor, what’s wrong with you? There are a couple of your
bastards in the third row. Decorum. The poor things probably have
enough daddy issues as it is. Have you been watching Love Actually
again? Big gestures count for fuck all.” Glory said dropping the
mike. She left the stage and gestured at Bea to follow her.

“Right well
wasn’t that lovely. There’s also a feedback form for everyone to
fill in with any comments on the seminar and today’s speakers.
Please help yourselves to ambrosian biscuits over the break girls.”
Fortune had had an amusing morning.

Admin

It was the
early afternoon and Liberty had sent Honour back to their house in
order to start planning for the Second Korean War, while she had
carried on back to their office in Valhalla to complete the day’s
admin tasks. She had organised inductions, found equipment and
filled in nearly all of the requisite forms that any mortal soul
needs to properly enter Valhalla. Having changed out of her
standard issue uniform Liberty sat at her desk in a blue jersey
dress. Now calling it an office was exaggerative, it was nothing
more than a group of cubicles. Most mortals had never realised that
Ikea made compartmentalised afterlife office furniture as well as
Billy bookcases. Liberty looked down at her desk and saw the orange
post-it notes, the telephone with a curly chord that every now and
then Freya would ring by mistake, and the pot of highlighter pens
and biros. She braced herself as she called the next one in to
personally explain what the shit had happened to them. Very few
mortals really understood what Valhalla was anymore and she usually
had to explain it to them very slowly. They had all somehow managed
to form these ideas of places with funny names like Purgatory which
Liberty couldn’t quite fathom.

“Is this
Heaven?” said a man who had died that day.

“No” Liberty
was getting bored with that conversation.

“Are you an
angel then?”

“Are you
referring to the religious or the Victoria’s Secret sort?”

“Er, well
either I suppose?” he said trying it on. He had never seen any
creature as singularly perfect and terrifyingly exquisite as
Liberty. If he had have been alive he would have sworn that his
heart was about to beat furiously out of his chest in abysmal love.
Mercifully he wasn’t alive as that would have been messy and
Liberty’s suede shoes were a pretty shade of light blue.

“Right, well
I’m neither. You’ve been barking up the wrong tree there with all
that stuff.” Liberty was no longer amused by being hit on by dead
squaddies. She had ceased to be amused by them after Napoleon. She
was informed by her spread sheet that he used to be a married
father of two called Bill.

“So this is
heaven right. If this isn’t heaven I’ll kick off I swear.”

“Ha, no it’s
not but I do understand that you thought that when you die you go
to somewhere very different to this and yes I understand that you
feel short changed. I get it, I really do. In fact there are
multiple afterlives for humans it just depends on the luck of the
draw. Spending eternity with Hades for example would be far more
tedious than Valhalla. Even out of the Norse afterlife you’ve got
it good. You could be stuck with Hel, from the waist down she’s a
rotting corpse and she’s a massive Justin Bieber fan. Bizarrely
most mortals assume that there is only one ‘God’ but actually there
are loads of us. What you might call a pantheon is merely a
dysfunctional family unit. If you go back far enough we’re all
related the world over anyway.” Liberty said with little
conviction.

“I am not
having that, you hear me.”

“Well I’m
afraid that you’re stuck with this aren’t you. Look once you’ve
settled in you’ll probably really enjoy yourself. If you’d let me
explain how things work here: so by day you train for the war.”

“Which war?” he
said with narrow eyes, interrupting the flow of Liberty’s
spiel.