The Hunter Victorious Read Online Free PDF Page A

bones. The shaman raised her staff above her head and screamed.
     The crowd screamed back. And then it was done. The woman lowered her arm and as the last whisper of sound drained away, she
     staggered and then fell into the waiting arms of the throne.
    Braldt watched in stunned silence, not even needing the cautionary touch from Brandtson to remind him to hold his tongue.
     The crowd stirred expectantly; a sense of anticipation could clearly be felt in the air.
    There was a stir of movement in the front of the hall and a murmur of voices; Braldt strained to see. Carved wooden staffs
     could be seen rising above the heads of the crowd, and as they passed, the robed figures bowed low in obeisance. There could
     only be one person on Valhalla who would exact such subservience. Braldt felt suddenly cold. It could be no one but Otir Vaeng,
     the king.
    Braldt could see him clearly now. Otir Vaeng, king of Valhalla. He was a tall man, taller than Braldt himself, with broad
     shoulders and narrow waist and hips, lean to the point of emaciation. His hair was the bright yellow gold of the sun, as was
     the beard, which followed the line of his jaw and ended in a sharp, forward-jutting point. He was in the habit of stroking
     this beard often, perhaps unaware of his obsession, and it was due to his constant ministrations that the beard preceded him
     like the prow of a ship. His nose was narrow and pinched, beaked at the bridge and turned down like a bird of prey. His cheekbones
     were slanted and angular, rising sharply as though they might slice through the skin that was stretched taut over them. His
     eyes were a cold, brilliant shade of pale blue, like precious gems. His eyebrows and lashes were so pale as to be invisible,
     and this made his eyes appear even more piercing and demanding.
    He stared out at the silent crowd, stroking his beard, saying nothing until the silence grew so intense as to be discomforting.
     Only when it had stretched to a breaking point. when Braldt’s nerves cried for some action, some word, did the king speak.
    “You have heard the volva,” he said in a low voice which required utter silence so that he could be heard. “The gods have
     spoken. Freya herself has told the volva what must be done if we are to save ourselves from doom.
    “We have brought the wrath of the gods down upon ourselves because we have failed to honor them. We chose to walk apart from
     them, placing our faith in new gods, science and technology, and those gods and their followers were what killed the earth.
     We too will perish and vanish forever if we do not return to the old ways and honor the old gods, as is their due.”
    “What… what would the gods have us do?” asked anolder man situated in the front of the crowd, his quavering voice betraying his nervousness.
    “The volva has told us what must be done,” replied a second voice, a voice all too familiar to Braldt. He straightened with
     shock and leaned forward to see what he could scarcely believe. A second figure moved to stand at the king’s side and Braldt
     stumbled back against the wall, weak with shock. Carn! What mischief was this that allied his adopted brother with the king
     of Valhalla, he who had caused the death of their planet and everyone and everything that had been dear to them? Carn spoke.
    “The volva has spoken; the seidr, the divination ceremony, has told us what we needed to know. The gods have spoken through
     her to us and told us their wishes.”
    “We must kill the outsiders, kill the unbelievers,” said the king, his voice a mere whisper of sound, but clearly heard in
     the silent hall. “The unbelievers must die. Only then will the gods return their favor to we who have believed in them and
     been faithful down through the long centuries when the false gods ruled the earth. The sun will shine on us once more and
     we will thrive and prosper only if our belief is strong.”
    “Is he serious?” Braldt whispered. Brandtson made an