Light to Valhalla

Light to Valhalla

Melissa Lynne Blue

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or
dead,
is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Light to Valhalla

Copyright © 2012 by Melissa Lynne Blue

Cover Design by Rae Monet

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

For more information:
www.melissalynneblue.com

Dedication

This one is for my wonderful friend, Stacey
Coverstone
—the real Lady
Coverstone
.
Thanks for the use of your name…

Prologue

June 21, 1813

Northern Spain—Battle of
Vittoria

“Do not fall back!” Major Alex Rawlings roared over the deafening din of
cannon
fire
.
He pulled his mount in a tight circle
, w
rangling the gaggle of green soldiers
—
the gleam of retrea
t in their
eye—
back toward the
French
onslaught
.
“
Press on boys,” he urged, looking each one of them
directly
in the face as he rode past
.
“
We must hold Napoleon here
.
The task falls to
you
.”

The soldiers shuffled and
a
n
unsure
murmur of, “Aye,” rolled through the
rank
s
.

Alex
trotted back and forth along the line.
“
You
are Britain’s hope.”

“Aye,” this time
the call held more
conviction
.

“Her salvation.
”

“Aye!
”
Gaining momentum, t
he men cheered, lifting bayoneted
muskets
into the air
.

“What say you, men?
  Are you with me?
”
Alex
thrust
his sword
into the air and kicked the horse forward
.
“
Onward!
”

“Aye!
”
The soldiers charged with him, meeting the crush of blue clad French with a vengeance
.

Satisfaction
settled in Alex’s breast
.
Piss on the
other officers and his
superiors who encouraged him to stay back from the front lines
and out of harm’s way
.
Cowards the lot of them
.
Men needed leadership
.
S
oldiers were far mor
e willing to obey and follow an
officer fighting alongside them
.
Those were the officers m
en loved
.
Moments
like these made a man immortal
.
H
e
would be—

Screaming, whit
e hot pain tore through his right shoulder
.
Alex blinked
in surprise
, looking down
.
Deep burgundy blood
spilled down the front of his uniform
.
“Christ, I’m shot.
”
Blood pounded in his ears, the roar of battle ebbed, and the world around him slowed until chaos all but froze in a still framed painting
.
Sparks flashed before his eyes, and then… it was the damndest thing, but the pain
dulled
and there lived a single pinpoint instant of absolute clarity
.
In that one, definitive,
perfect
moment he knew exactly
what he wanted from life
.

In life there are epiphanies… and there are revelations
,
th
e
wise
old Scottish par
son’s voice from
Dover Lodge
rolled
through his mind
.
Well, here and now, Alex was having a
revelation
.

The c
onfusion and anger
which had riddl
ed much of his life disappeared
.
In t
his moment
he
held the secret to life’s happiness
.
The key to his own soul
.
All he wanted… all he needed—

P
ure fire
shot up his left thigh and
through his groin, paralyzing him from his toes to his throat
.
He
dropped
off the back of his mount and slammed to the ground
.
Crunch
.
The breath whooshed from his lungs and t
he world kicked back into pace with deafening force
.
Blades
clanked
brutally all around him while muskets cracked and cannon roared
.

             
H
is revelation vanished.

             
Ale
x dragged a ragged breath into his aching lungs
, attempting to stand—his men needed h
im—
but
failed miserably, collapsing face down in the bloodied grass
.
He rolled to his back and grasped hi
s injured shoulder
.
“Oh, Jesus
.
”
Warm blood pumped over his hand
in tandem with the weakening of his body and mind.

             
So this was it
.
After t
en years in the army, five differe
nt countries, and twen
ty-three separate
battles, h
e’d
finally arrived on death’s doorstep—
the brink
as many of his compatriot’s called it
.
Rather different than he expected
.
No grace of immortality lived in this moment
.
No blaze of glory
or distraught soldiers and
loved ones surrounding him
, lamenting his death
.
Instead
t
h
e
y’d all charged forward
without a backward glance
.
Alex
was completely alone
.

             
Al
one a
nd m
iserably cold
.
H
is lips felt like wax
.
Wax
.
Fear gripped his gut
.
This really was it
.
The end.

             
Emptiness and regret pooled as rapidly as the blood in his hand
.
Loneliness over
whelmed
him
though he had
no one but himself to blame
.
This
despair
was punishment for a life spent lusting after glory
.
The price of evil
.
Alex
wanted to go back
in time
…
back to
his childhood… back to the day he’d married… back to t
hat one
pristine
moment
after
he’d been shot
to
discover
the key to peace in his life.

             
But s
econd chances didn’t exist
.
T
here would be
no escape from this nightmare
.
May the devil take pity on his
sou
l
.

             
Fuzziness overtook his senses and
after a moment
the chill
and fears
ebbed
.
Alex f
ound himself floating, yes,
floating
, up over the battlefield
.
His vision turned black and then e
verything became clear
.
He could see for miles around and h
e knew the strangest sense of
entering
a dream while remaining fully awake
.
He drifted up into the clouds and
a towering structure
of mythical proportions
loomed in the distance
.

             
My god
,
the pearly gates
.

             
Just as the bible described except that they were not pearly at all but
contrived of
the purest
silver he’
d ever seen
.

             
Would St. Peter let him pass?

             
Surely not
.
H
e’d been a sinner amongst men, c
utthroat and out for himself alone
.
He’d blasphemed, coveted,
committed adultery
… murdered
—not in
cold blood, but he’d killed me
n just the same
.
More than likely he’d be
cast
straight
in
to Hell
.
Purgatory if he was lucky.

             
Profound numbness
crept
up his limbs
and he had the sense of moving forward, toward the silver gate though his legs would not work
.
Alex scarcely had the strength to hold up his head
but found he didn’t need to
.
The revelation from the battlefield hovered around the periphery of his mind—his very soul—and he sensed needing to grasp that moment of clarity else his
troubled
spirit would never find peace.

             
An apparition so beautiful and vivid
his heart ceased
its
feeble attempts to beat
appeared
.
H
is epiphany—or
ra
t
her
his
revelation—
flashed
back through his mind
with resounding force
, overwhelming him
.
“It’s you
,” he rasped
, the key to lifelong
peace,
suspended
before him
.
“You’ve come back for me.”

             
A long slender arm, drape
d all in white extended forward
.
“Take my hand,
”
a musical voice beckoned
.
“Come with me.”