Maya's shrill scream echoed throughout the entire forest.
And you couldn’t blame her.
No amount of fiction, reading, TV, or video gaming could have prepared her mind for the horrors of facing the undead. With a visage rotten to the skull, it glared at Maya with its one unfocused eye as ooze dripped out from the other socket.
Maya was appalled and sick to her stomach, but now something tugged at her ankle. Another zombie with yellow teeth and a maggot-ridden tongue grabbed at her with a skeletal hand and tattered skin.
Now she was beyond horrified.
“Maya!” Val cried out and ran towards her, though she stopped by what Maya did next.
“Perish you son of a Draugr!” Maya was shouting at the top of her lungs, slamming the shield repeatedly against the zombie’s head. “Die! Die! Die!”
Maya ended the poor zombie’s afterlife by driving the shield’s round but sharp edge against its decaying skull.
Huffing, her chest rising up and down, Maya gripped the shield hard in both hands. She slammed it into the zombie’s head one more time for good measure—leaving it behind as a mushy mess.
“What in Hel’s name was that thing? A zombie? Please tell me this isn’t true.”
“Maya. Calm.” Val put up her hands and approached Maya slowly. “Breath. Slow. Draugr. Dead.”
“So it was a Draugr?” Maya huffed again and looked once more at the undead Viking warrior. Its glassy eye stared back at her, and she kicked it away. “Seriously!?”
“There are more.”
A dark whisper enveloped the forest. Green mist seeped out from the wet earth, falling over them like a blanket.
“I have a bad feeling about this—” Maya blurted out as two more hands clamped her around her ankles. “I knew it! Get away—”
Her screams died in her throat as three more lumbered into view.
Two of them were clad in a chaotic patchwork of worn leather and rusted chainmail, their weapons glinting ominously despite the corrosion. Swords, axes, and shields—decayed but still deadly—were gripped tightly in skeletal hands.
Albeit rusty, that was still too dangerous to deal with haphazardly.
“Grruuuuurrrr,” one groaned into Maya’s ear, holding her in place.
Maya gagged from the foul breath.
“Don’t. Move,” warned Val, eyeing the two Draugr approaching her.
“Didn’t plan to, haha.” A meek laugh was all Maya could manage.
“Calm. Undead. Dangerous.” Val took a small step to the side. The Draugr followed her. “I. Deal. With. Them. Do. Not. Worry.”
Call that a warrior’s confidence. The enemies did not intimidate Val—unlike Maya, who was getting the hives from just their touch.
Maybe this will be over in a jiffy, Maya mused, observing Val with absolute confidence. She’s a Valkyrie, after all. A bunch of zombies stand no chance against her—
Then the sound of a blade whirred in the air, and Maya turned to the source of the slash.
What was that sound? She wondered. I didn’t like that.
Maya stared at the blood dripping to the ground from a gash running down Val’s arm.
The Draugr moved inhumanly fast, barely leaving any room for Val to dodge or block the attacks. They slashed at her. They cut at her pants and shirt. In one instance, they almost carved up her face like a pumpkin, sending strands of blond hair flying.
“Val! What’s going on?” shouted Maya, struggling against the Draugr’s grasp. “Wasn’t she a Valkyrie? She should be stronger than some undead.”
“Sluggish,” Val gasped and dodged another sword strike. “Not. In. Form. Slow… Tired.”
Sluggish? Not in form? Maya knew Valkyries were supposed to be powerful supernatural beings, close to demigods or stronger. But why was Val struggling so much?
Something wasn’t making sense.
Slow.
Maya thought back to how she found Val.
She had found her wounded with nothing on her except her ragged clothes, and her speech was impaired. Maya assumed it was because she had never lived in the modern world before.
But then, Val was panting. Her movements were sluggish and sloppy. She was still agile on her feet and delivering solid hits to knock out teeth or an iron helmet, but that was it.
Val won't last long. I need to help her!

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