Flight of the Maiden

It was not his first encounter with the inexplicable, but these were few and far between, and he generally attributed them to his own failure to arrive at the more reasonable truth than to the existence of the supernatural.

He came back to the body, where the woman’s mane hung over her and Valdstok’s face like a veil of deep brass. As he approached, the big warrior’s hand lifted and parted the hair. He looked at Davion stepping up to the dais and motioned him near. The woman moved away, but only a short distance as Davion knelt beside the barbarian chief.

"I thought the Valkyrie was taking me to Valhalla, but Freenae tells me that you saved my life with this sorcery." He gestured to the glass tubes and beakers feeding slightly briny water into his arm.

"You Northrons keep your lives tied tightly to your guts." Davion said. "Your women would have done the same thing as all this, but with plain water and broth. My way was just a little faster. As for the Valkyrie," He looked up to the rafters where the smoke now in no way resembles any equine shape, "I’ll let Freenae try to explain that."