(Author's Note: I've entered this in the Science Fiction Writers of Earth short story contest. This is intended as a series called "The Diva and the Slayer". If I ever get around to finishing the other stories.) ----------------------------- "The Jewel of Freya" by Jillian Parks ----------------------------- The crystal notes of a soprano voice filled the concert hall with a winding silver thread, weaving a spider's web of iridescent teal over the heads of the audience. The singer swayed like a reed on stage, continuing the thread of moonlight through the opera solo, then slid into a lower octave. The silver-blue web now became strands of smokey incense whirling about the heads, fogging up the warm tears spilling over the eyes of the Sensitives. Her voice strong and full, the haunting music carried her tall form into a swayed dance only the true Artisites knew. The Diva was alone on stage, her iridescent blue skin softly shimmered in the stage lights. Behind her were the the glass windows of the opera house showing out to the moonlit ocean of Holle. The audience held kings and ambassadors, nobility and the upper classes: all from the surrounding star system. All to listen to a concert honoring the marriage of Princess Rabecce of Holle and King Josan of Woten. The Diva was honored to sing for them since she had been named God Mother of any chilren the two had. Her song ended, the last note sending the web and smoke blowing back to the Plane of Song to keep until needed again. The audience broke into applause, standing in ovation as the Diva elegantly bowed in serene joy. The young King Josan shouted "Brava!" and his bride the new Queen Rabecce cried Beauty Tears into her kerchief. I was discreetly tapped on the shoulder, and I turned to find the adolescent messenger boy of the Galaxy Affairs Association staring nervously up at me; probably believing I would maim him if he dare look down my cleavage. Ah, youth. . . "Yes?" "Es'Pac Dean wishes to speak to both you and the Diva after the concert." "Where, my lad?" Strangely enough, he finched. "The Diva's dressing rooms, if he may, Mistress Lee." "Of course, he's the boss. Is he here?" "In the audience. May I go?" "Go on, lad, before you wet yourself." He made a clean getaway from the wing as the Diva started her next song. I didn't think I was particularly frightful: I was five foot ten, violet eyes, pale complected, shoulder-length dark red hair with the ends in the hairbeads of my Earth clan, and had the form of a Valkyrie. I admit, I unintentionally went around with a semi-smirk-- Es'Pac outright called it an obscene leer once-- but the Diva's singing usually relaxed me into a mellow mood and I'm almost civilized. Well, being the bodyguard of the Diva, you kind of have to appear frightening to strangers and over-zealous fans. Yet, the boy, whom I've known since he joined us, has always been fearful of me for some reason or another. Poor child, most likely had never met a woman who could hack down an opponent faster than a solar flare. So, I wondered what the Es'Pac had in store for the Diva and me. Pretty good chance another crut case involving a serial killer. I let go of the thought and drifted into the sea-green notes of a Glacian ballad from the Diva's homeworld. "I saw you talking to the boy," Divana Coloraturia spoke softly, her low voice naturally echoing despite the heavy, musty curtains. "What does the Es'Pac want of us?" "Only to meet him in your dressing rooms. If it's another worthless job, I swear, I'm going to quit the G.A.A. and get a real job." "Don't lie to me; you love the work. I have to take another bow." She left my side quickly, her full seven foot Glacian frame clad in a royal purple whisp of gown, the outline of her perfect body visible from the stage lights above her. Yard long tentacles, three on each side of her head, dusted the stage as she made the deep bows of service to the King and Queen. Her large, slanted black eyes reflected the stage lights like dark crystal orbs. She bowed again, then locked eyes with someone in the audience. Whoever it was, it saw me as well, knowing we were more than the Diva and bodyguard as we appeared. A half hour later, after the dispersion of fans and thanks from the Queen Bride and King Bridegroom, Diva had already changed into her worn leather boots, black trousers, and purple bodysuit. She wore her Glacian jewelry of elaborately designed flat collar necklace, wide armbands, and thick bracelets like an Egyptians queen from my homeworld's ancient cultures. Her teal hair was brushed back from her heart-shaped face, flowing over one shoulder as a waterfall down to her hips. Her long legs were crossed, the boots resting on one of her many costume trunks as she drank a cup of spiced tea. "Such old eyes," she murmured, staring off into the space in front of me. I finished tightening my leather bracers and finally asked "Whose?" I continued to dig around in a trunk for Diva's small yet powerful hand blaster and it's hip holster. "The Earth woman I saw a few rows in," she replied, taking another sip. "I've seen many of you humans through the dcades, but I've never seen one with such old eyes. . . like an ancient Goddess." She shook her head, knowing all the Gods and Goddesses on my planet have been dead for the past two thousand years. In Earth Year 2192, the Gods were everywhere else but Earth. Most died for lack of followers in the Old Ways. Some may have escaped such Fate, but it was doubtful. the Mages Academy did its best in training those to keep the magical arts alive, and it was to these people we turned to when our own innerselves have lost hope. The Mystics and Mages were highly respected members of the Galaxy. Well, those who respect Life and the White Light of Good. Black Mages. . . they killed everyone I ever loved. A long time ago in a system far away. An authoritive bang issued from the dressing room door and I sprang up, unsheathing my late father's battle dagger. I leaned against the wall closest to the door opening and asked "Who is it?" "The Es'Pac." "How do I know it's really you?" I teased, relaxing my stance. "Eurythma Lee, open this door or I'm gonna' whoop you so hard--" I unlocked the magnetic seal and slid open the door as I resheathed my dagger, grinning, "Only *you* would threaten to whoop the Dragon God Slayer. Come in, sir." "Silly little girl," he replied, a chocolate brown hand patted my cheek in a grandfatherly way. "I'm only twenty-two," I objected. "Still a child compared to me," the late middle-aged man pointed out. During his youth, Es'Pac Hantz Dean was called many things due to being a tough, in-your-face soldier while in the Estradi Wars with the Intergalactic Army. The mildest thing he was called was the Black Grizzly, and they weren't kidding. He stood in at six-and-a-half feet tall and had a beefed-up build from all his years in the Earth Forces and Army. He was one of the original agents of the Galaxy affairs Association, and had rightly earned his position of Special Agents. The years have mellowed him: Diva and I were his favorite agents, treating us with professional regard, but worrying over us (me especially) like his own daughters. "Good evening, Es'Pac," Diva placed her tea cup on top of the trunk while removing her feet to sit up straight. She offered her hand, and he kissed her blue fingers in reverence to the Artiste. "A beautiful performance as always, Divana." "Thank-you, sir. Spiced tea?" "No, thank-you, I'm here on business." "I knew it," I piped up, slapping the thigh of my black leather trousers. "Another crap case. Which murderer is it this time?" Diva meant to elbow me in the ribs, but she got me in the stomach. I spent the next moment doubled over as they continued on. "Not a murderer this time. A thief." "A thief?" she repeated, raising a finely arched teal eyebrow. "Not a common thief. Evidently, this seems to be the same person who is stealing Mage relics and talismans, like the Graiken Chalice and Sabitian's Horn." "What is the current missing relic?" "A Mystic named Lady Berchta had a magic jewel stolen from her two days ago. She specifically requested you two since she knew of your recovery of the Dragon God's Eye." "Not many people know of the Dragon God incident outside of those involved." She made a tent of her fingers. "Only those in the Mage community as a whole." "Where is this Lady Berchta?" "Here on Holle, on the other side of town." It must have been midnight when we rang the bells of an Old Roman-style villa. The shingle read "Lady Berchta, Mystic of Holle". The road was cobblestone leading outside of town, then turning off to a crushed shell drive up to the estate. Faeries darted among the night blooms in the Mystic's front garden; their shimmering, sparkling forms soflty lighting our way as they curiously observed us. The stars glittered like rhinestones against the blue velvet of the Hollean sky. My deepest fibers vaguely remembered happier times in my native Scotland on Earth. Yet, my racial memory recalled an earlier time in such a setting, as a high priestess of sorts to an earlier Goddess. I was pulled out of my meditation by the heavy oak door opening to reveal a twelve-year-old human girl not yet matured. Her thick, gold-blonde hair hung in two large braids over thin shoulders, and her pale blue eyes raised up to meet Diva's black ones. "We are here to see Lady Berchta," my partner produced her identification card. "We're from the Galaxy Affairs Association." "Lady Berchta is expecting you," the girl said, her precocious eyes finally meeting mine. She inhaled deeply and opened the door wider. Diva entered first, relieved to find the entry hall five feet above her head. I followed, and let the girl shut the door again. The hall abruptly led out to a snow covered mountain crag in the middle of a courtyard. Snow? In the middle of a Hollean Summer? I concluded that a Mystic can create snow in the Summer and keep it in an atrium to do with as she please. I blinked, recalling how as a small child I climbed the Grampian Mountains, following the fae folk. . . A tug at my sleeve shrugged me out of my thoughts. I looked down to discover the girl staring up at me silently. "You are the Dragon God Slayer?" she asked in an awed whisper. "Last I checked," I grinned, patting the hilt of Bansher, my flaming sword. It was a gift from Lady Michaele to defeat the Dragon God as well as dispelling evil souls. "Thank-you," she took my hand, brushing my palm across her lips in the motion of Hero's Recognition. "What for?" "He was about to devour me when you challenged him. You saved me. Thank-you, Mistress Lee." I shrugged silently, glancing over to see what Diva was making out of this. She shrugged back "Heild," a woman called, her voice all around us. "Bring the agents to my library, child." "Yes, Lady," she replied to the air. We were guided through a dark hall filled with ancient and pre-modern portraits as well as charcoal sketches of Earth Mages and Mystics. All were in the dress of their culture, their secret smiles and stern gazes concealing the Mysteries of the Universe. The girl swept open the library doors and announced us: "Divana Coloraturia and Eurythma Lee." Less than a second later, we were ushered in and the girl disappeared like a shy faerie. An aurora borealis lit the room from the twenty foot ceiling. The colors shifted through a rainbow as like the swirled designs in an oil puddle. In my Mind's Eye, I've seen Diva sing such a creation before. My eyes rested on a middle-aged woman seated by the fireplace, blue flames danced from a bowl of water set on the grate. The woman had extremely long strawberry-blonde hair carefully set into two braids; a white streak of hair framed the left side of her face to her jaw, curving like a white crescent moon. Her face was oblong in shape with a strong nose and small mouth, laugh lines creased at her eyes and lips. She had a fair ivory complexion, her body frail, her fingers long and delicate. She wore a cream-colored plain gown, a long leather apron hooked by tassels and clasps at her shoulders, dangling from a clasp hung some chains with a dagger abd keys attached to the ends, and a pair of leather boots. A gray tiger-striped cat lay curled in her lap, sleeping peacefully as she stroked its soft fur. Come on, Eurythma, I told myself, look in her eyes. Azure blue eyes stared back at me, betraying lifetimes of thousands of years lived in one body. These had to be the eyes Diva had seen during the concert. She was beyond the old mortals sitting on the Mystics' Council; beyond an Ancient of any other race. I was staring back at a living Goddess from my homeworld! my logic argued. "Good evening, ladies," she spoke, her voice thick with a Northlands accent. "I enjoyed your performance, Diva. I haven't heard anyone weave a spell of song as beautifully as done as you in several eons." "Thank-you, Lady Berchta," Diva bowed her head. "That is the greatest compliment coming from a Mystic." She hummed in agreement, then waved two chairs over in front of her armchair by the fireplace. "Please sit. A drink?" "No, thank-you," we responded in unison, taking our seats by the cool fire. "I've requested your help in recovering my jewel from Grand Mask." "Jewel?" Diva repeated. "Grand Mask?" I echoed. "Perhaps I should begin from the beginning," a teacup appeared next to her on the lamp stand. "I am from Earth. Centuries ago, the Norse Gods lay dying. In all the prophesies it was never thought that mankind would abandon the Gods in the death knell of Christianity or just plain forget Them. I was given charge of Their sacred objects: Thor's hammer, Sif's golden hair, Idun's basket of apples, and so on down the line. Prized above all this was the Jewel of Freya, the Brisingamen. It held potent power, enough to alter the flow of Time and the Order of the known Universe. It was the Jewel men could not resist, and many Giants vied for the hand of Freya to possess it. "Two days ago, Heild and I were out gathering herbs for ceremony. While we were gone, someone broke into my Sacred Rooms and stole Brisingamen from its altar. Nothing else taken, not even the Hammer. Just Brisingamen. My cats saw nothing, saying that the Jewel was there and then gone. I know who did it, though, he left his calling card. "So, I contracted the G.A.A. and asked for the women who had slew the Dragon God to take back the Eye for the world of Sabi. I knew that if anyone could get Brisingamen back, it would be you two." "You said you know who did it?" Diva asked. "Grand Mask," she answered, scratching the cat's upraised chin. "Now who's this Grand Mask?" I asked, leaning forward. "A Mage. A minor Mage claiming to be some sort of Messiah for the Galaxy. His Master at the Mages Academy noticed the power hungry taint of insanity within the boy, and turned him out with the Mark upon him. As you know, the Mark will prevent him from apprenticing himself to any Mages of respectable magic. He came into the black arts, and set about stealing powerful relics for his own use. He became known as Grand Mask since he is reported to wear one to cover his Mark. His calling card is a miniature mask he leaves at the scene of his crimes; like he's urinating on the shoes of the Mystics. Take a look." She handed me a mask about the size a faerie would wear. It was a plain shaped mask meant to cover the facial area with almond eye openings and a protuding mouth area. It was grayish-black with white streaks slashed down the front. I showed it to Diva and she nodded her observation. I gave it back to Lady Berchta, and she crushed it then blew the dust into Oblivion. "What is his particular Mark?" I questioned. "I'm not sure, but you know it's the beastial representation of their soul." "So, you wish for us to find this Grand Mask and. . . do what?" Diva brushed an eye level tentacle back over her shoulder. "I can send you to where he is. The mask's dust is back to where it was created, which is probably where Grand Mask is. I cannot go myself for my aura would warn him of my arrival. Your mission is to recover the relics-- especially Brisingamen-- and destroy Grand Mask." "Kill a Mage in the black arts?!" I exclaimed. "Impossible. They can't be killed." "Eurythma, that sword Banisher you carry was made by Lady Michaele to defeat practitioners and minions of the black arts. Have you forgotten? The so-called Dragon God was a shape-shifting Mage," Lady Berchta leaned back, regarding me through blonde lashes. "In a sense, this will a similar mission. Besides, you have a stake in this, too." "How?" "Child, haven't you figured it out already? In a former lifetime, you were among the honored Valkyrie, one of the Maids of Freya." My forehead still burned from the warm oil Lady Berchta had used to trace the Rune of Freya over my Third Eye. It smelt faintly of clove; I remember learning during my brief stay at the Mages Academy that clove is sometimes smoked or inhaled by incense to enhanced psychic ability. Whatever she did, I knew not to question her. Diva and I were clearly on another world. In the same system-- we didn't know. The sky lit up a brilliant fire red and flame orange; blood red streaks of cirrus clouds ripped across the sky like jagged claw slashes. We were surrounded by miles of dirty orange rock, mesas rising in the distance and boulders scattered everywhere in any which way. On our right over the closest slab of rock, standing up against the red sky like one of the Gates of Hell, was a rounded tower made of the local stone. Nightmarish gargoyles leaned over from the roof, making obscene leers I could never match if I tried. Their knowing grins waiting for us to die so they could feast on human and Glacian flesh. "Death encompasses that tower," Diva's dark blue lips issued in a low, echoing tone. I inhaled deeply. The pungent vapors of flesh rot mingled with the sour rust of dried blood filled my nostrils. "Blood magic," I added. Only practitioners of the black arts resort to blood sacrifice. It was the main difference between white and black: white respected Life, black did not. My mind replayed that night I was almost sacrificed several years ago; the echoing cries of my youngest Survival College unit member still branded in my ears for all eternity as they took her young blood in Death. The hilt of Banisher grew warm against my ribs, knowing a tar black soul was near and ready to be sent back to wherever it came from for everlasting time. "Well, what should we do?" I asked, knowing Diva's cool head would keep me from killing myself if I just ran in there like a suicidal Berzerker. She was silent a moment, her teal brows knotted in concentration as those black orbs studied the tower we assumed Grand Mask resided in. . . and probably waited for us. "It looks to have an underground dungeon, most likely holding future sacrificial victims. I'll release those while you find the relics; maybe we can get everyone and thing out before Grand Mask finds out." "That's unlikely," I spat. "I'm aware of that, but you kind of hope." "What about guards?" "Hmm. . . kill them if they attack us. I really can't stand to kill weak-minded fools. . . Eurythma, reach out with your abilities and find out what kind of guards he has." I breathed in the clove oil, closed my eyes, and released my senses like a light beam to the tower. I twisted through the stairways and touched each guard I came across until I found them all. I returned to my own body and opened my eyes. "They're beyond weak-minded: they have no minds. Mask has a collection of Zombie guards, and their only orders are to kill whoever enters the tower uninvited. This is ridiculous, though!" "What is?" "Does he really not expect to be found by every Mage and Mystic in the Galaxy? Lady Berchta found him by the dust of the mask--" "But, yet, dust is blind," she tapped my hairbeads to tell me to cool it. "The Lady's aura would give her away if she came, every second level apprentice knows that. She does not know we are on Tuluth; she just sent us wherever the dust happened to blow." "Tuluth? How do you know we're on Tuluth?" "A mission I was on long before you were conceived. Anyway, right now, we have to get in there. We have a job to do." "Sure. Let's dispel the black stuff." Our right palms met the other's. Iridescent blue met porcelain white in a pre-invasion ritual we've practiced since the start of our partnership. A subtle flow of Energy exchanged between us, lighting our ancient warrioress spirits. We were ready. Diva led the way, streaking across the orange dirt like liquid metal up to the iron doors of the tower. I wasn't too far behind, my beads clacking amongst themselves in a deception of insect voices. We leaned with our backs to the doors-- then startled to find them unlocked and ajar in welcome. "He knows we're here, Eurythma. No use sneaking around." That Glacian had chutzpah, I gotta' hand *that* to her. She causually pushed the door open, and in one fluid movement had the blaster out of her holster and let the explosive red lazer hit a guard. I heard a heavy thud and rattle of metal armor. In front of us lay the body of a hefty creature that I could've sworn was a cross between a swine and a canine. Although it was hard to tell by the face: Diva's blaster melted its head into a mass of bone and hot metal. "Can't you ever be clean about this?" I cracked. She smiled wanely. "Sorry. I'll release the prisoners and you find the relics. Most likely they'll be in the topmost story." "Okay. Luck." "Luck. Watch your back." She turned down a stairway, her tentacles flying behind her. I looked to the stairs going up, almost choking on the putrid air. My stomach clenched in anxiety; I heard a faint lazer blast from below. I swallowed my stomach back down, and began to run up, my dagger drawn and ready. The rock stairs were oily and bloodstained. Nail scratches lined the walls, victims of the blood rites fighting tooth and nail to the last. Anger from the murder of my unit and the Valkyr blood awakening in my veins brought out my sense of injustice of unwilling sacrifice. The souls of men, women, and children cried out ofr me just as my dying unit did-- crying out in pain as their trapped souls pushed me up the stairs. Demanding I avenge their sacrilaged deaths. they called, Detached, but alert, I rounded a corner and automatically brought my dagger across the throat of a guard. With a round kick it went flying down the stairs, thundering and clanging like... well, like a guard in heavy armor tumbling down the stairs. I faced two more on my way up, again slitting throats. The last went for my face with a torch made of some old rags and a leg bone. I blocked the hit with my braced arms, then pushed the creature back with my boot in its chest. It tripped back on the stairs, and I slit it from gullet to zatch, hoping its intestines spilling out would keep it busy. At the end of the staircase, at the top of the tower, a wooden door inscribed with arcane symbols stood between me and the magic room. The symbols were made in blood, dried over the years, most likely from a virgin girl, like the youngest member of my unit. By all that I hold Holy, Grand Mask. . . I pressed the door open, creaking on its metal hinges in protest of such treatment. I was faced with a butcher's candy store of blades and bodies flung about in blasphemous indignity. As if these were the lower life forms of pests we routinely kill without thought. My stomach turned somersaults, and I hurriedly made my way to a door marked "Tool Room". The back of my mind absently wondered where this Grand Mask was within the tower if he welcomed us so quickly. I hoped Diva was all right. Upon opening of the door, the Sacred Light poured out of the room. It was a small walk-in closet of a room, lined with shelves holding all the missing relics. The previously mentioned Chalice and Horn, Arthur's Excalibur, the Girdle of Spendora, T'Pel's Braid, the most powerful relics from around the Galaxy all held captive in a tiny room. On its own shelf on the back wall, laying on a black velvet cloth, glittered the Jewel of Freya, Brisingamen. The gold chain was forged by the most skilled of dwarf smiths in Midgard, and the holographic jewel glowed like a thousand stars. I touched it in reverence; Freya's Energy pulsed through it, throbbing in a higher resonance. No wonder it was the Jewel men could not resist. It was made of the Universe itself! "My Gods. . . " I trailed off in an awed whisper. "I have to commend you, agent Lee," a male voice commented sweetly behind me. "No one has been able to enter so far into my tower. Quite impressive." My heart froze. I spun to find a figure clad in gray robes and the gray and white mask I had seen the miniature of. He was framed in the doorway, blocking any chance of slim escape. Yellow serpent eyes stared in cold anger at me through the almond-shaped eyeholes. A black gloved hand extended to me in mock politeness. "Oh, dear," I swallowed. "Of course, I fully expected to be found-- and I hoped it was by you in particular. Lady Michaele's Banisher Sword is a worthy prize, therefor a potent addition to my relics. Come on out of there, Mistress Lee. It is impolite to snoop through other people's belongings." "I don't recall any of those relics belonging to you, Mask," I drew my dagger out as I came at him. Hokey line, okay, I know. My shoulders were grabbed in lightning quickness, his hard fingers digging bruises in my flesh; my back thrown up against the rock doorway, my muscles screaming in pain. His mask leaned close to my face, staring yellow eyes to violet eyes. "Disrespectful little kunk!" he literally hissed, using the derogatory term for Human. "Your insolence will give you an agonizing death rather than the quick one I planned for you and your partner." "Great Gods, Mask, who pissed in *your* canteen?" I flung the useless crack, seeing my life flash before my eyes. I told the souls of my dead unit, He was silent a moment, considering the comment, then replied, "The Mages Academy. Those idiots turned me out for no legitimate reason. I had the power, even the Headmaster recognized it; I was powerful! It doesn't matter anymore. The Universe is going to pay for it by its destruction." "The Universe is a big place," I moaned in a spasm of pain. "I know. Would you like to know how?" "You're *telling* me your plan of destroying the Universe? You haven't had much experience being a villian, have you?" He chuckled, a good hearty laugh. "Who says I'm the villian? I'm actually *saving* the Universe from all these stupid, corrupt lifeforms that inhabit it. Every culture in the Galaxy predicts a Messiah will save them all. The only way to save is to destroy. Fire purifies, even a one year first-level apprentice drop-out like yourself knows that." My teeth clenched; I didn't drop out, I was reassigned to the Survival College since I wasn't cut out for magic! Damnit! "Even Gods don't hold that type of power! Not even the Serpent who led Man to Evil in my world's ancient culture--" He laughed hysterically. "Well, well. . . speak of the Devil. . . " The mask was discarded, and I drew my breath in with a sharp gasp. Before me, inches from my face, a man-sized snake's head stared back at me. He was hairless, a smooth reptile set of scales spackled in browns and yellows constituted as skin. His facial features were once human, but the mouth and nose had morphed into a single protuding snout; a long, slender forked tongue flickered between wide lips. "Oy. . ." I squeaked. "Despite my revelation you didn't faint. A strong woman you are, Mistress Lee," he paused, studying my eyes by Sacred Light. "Perhaps together we can create the new Universe. Every new world needs a Mother Goddess." "What do you mean?" I breathed. "For retaining your humanity, you are quite beautiful. A girl never forgets her first serpent's kiss." I closed my eyes and turned my head, pressing my lips together in useless protection. My knees buckled under me, but he held me to the door frame. Yeah, I've had a serpent's kiss before. Baird MacElhenney, the town creep. But Baird was only a creep, not a megalomaniac bent on Universal destruction. "I can see you have the power and potential. When I finish collecting the magic relics, their combined strength can control stars. Supernovas all over the Universe! Forget the Big Bang-- this would be Divine Retribution of the Gods! Yes, *we* could create a new Universe. . ." I felt the hot, slick forked tongue caress my cheek, running across on up to my closed left eye, slithering the bridge of my nose to my forehead-- A screech from the depths of Hell pressed into my eardrum, deafening my left ear. I turned my head and opened my eyes to see what had happened. His tongue had touched the oil Lady Berchta placed over my Third Eye. It evidently burned him for his tongue hung limply from his lips, a backward stick "B" burned black on his red tongue. "You have the mark of Freya!" he lisped a gasp, releasing me, falling back in the work room. "A Goddess had touched you! The Gods of Earth are dead! How can it be?!" I didn't answer; I only turned and made a grab for Brisingamen, draping it over my head, the jewel nestled in the tip of my cleavage. I rotated back to see him already up, his eyes wild, siliva flying as he rushed at me with an upraised serrated dagger. I caught his wrist, his fist flopping wildly to slash my bracer open. His other fist came at my face, and I grabbed it out of mid-flight. We stood there, my trained strength against his brute force. The door swung open to the work room, Diva assessed the situation in less than a nanosecond and let out an ear- splitting note. The dagger dropped, his hands went to the sides of his head. Bottles shattered, waves of high frequency vibrated objects off tables and shelves in the work room. Glass littered the floor like stars. Brisingamen vibrated, too, flashing a beam of rainbow at Grand Mask. A black cloud peeled from the top of his head, his soul screaming in pain. I pulled Banisher from my waist holster, the hilt hot in my hands. Between the wide iron forks a violet flame seared up to the length of a long sword, glowing in fire. I raised the sword above my head, ready to Banish him in Death. "But the Goddess is dead! How?!" he screamed. "I am a Valkyrie, a Chooser of the Slain. Freya Herself sent me. She sends her regards. Now GO!" I brought the sword down, slicing through his black soul and serpent body. Diva became silent. The black soul stuff dissipated in a groan. The corpse of Grand Mask lay in two at my feet. Banisher peacefully retired back to its base, the hilt cooling in my hand. Brisingamen returned to its holographic brightness. The only sounds were our heavy breathing. And I was splattered in black blood. "That was cutting it close, Diva." You didn't leave that many dead bodies to follow," she answered simply. "Come on, let's call the G.A.A. and get out of here." We awoke the next morning in the guest rooms of Lady Berchta's villa, refreshed from the previous night's adventures. The girl Heild supplied us with figure-shaped gowns with full skirts; Diva in an amethyst purple, mine in an emerald green. We found Lady Berchta in her library, sunlight streaming in through the wall-high windows between red velvet drapes. "Good morning, ladies," she greeted us. "Please sit." "Thank-you," we replied, settling into the chairs we occupied the night before. She was dressed the same as last night, save the cat in her lap was a slender calico, and she wore Brisingamen. "I'm sorry I did not receive you last night when you returned. The relics are on their way back to their owners by the Galaxy Affairs Association. The Mystics' Council offers their deepest thanks to you two. Es'Pac wishes to speak with you both when you have the chance." "He always wants to speak with us," I said, grinning over at Diva. "Shush, Eurythma," my partner replied. Lady Berchta smiled in maternal understanding. "I also want to thank you from the bottom of my soul for recovery of the jewel Brisingamen." "An honor. . . Lady Freya," Diva bowed her head in Mystic Salute. I turned from one to the other: Diva with the knowing smile, Lady Berchta with a young girl's blush across her round cheeks. A moment of silence held court. "Of course a Goddess cannot hide, can She?" "I never met one who could. Isn't 'Berchta' an even more ancient predecessor of 'Freya'?" "Correct. I had many names in the Northlands." "Excuse me," I spoke up. "I must be stupid or something, because I thought all of Earth's Gods were dead." "Child," the Goddess said. "All Gods are One God and All Goddesses are One Goddess. Not *all* of Us died. Who do you think all the Earth Mystics have learned from the past two thousand years?" The dark concert hall was filled with the notes of a Scandinavian ballad. Somewhere in the shadows, a Glacian woman with iridescent blue skin and teal hair was producing golden music from her throat. A faint glimmer appeared on the ceiling, a mass of blue finding shape. Shifting in ceaseless patterns, each note a different color, a rainbow of an aurora borealis danced above the heads of the audience. From green, then gold, then orange and red, indigo, and back to blue again. In the front row, wearing a holographic jewel necklace as old as Man himself, sat the last Goddess of Earth. Lady Freya of Asgard, Protectoress of Mankind, Head of the Valkyries. The Diva sang for the Goddess that night. Off in the wings, watching as a bodyguard for the Diva, I was the one who shed Beauty Tears; remembering the auroras play across the snow-capped peaks in the cold Northlands when I had served my life as a Valkyrie to Lady Freya.