The worst part was that I couldn’t fly out of the throne room. I had to drag that contemptible pile of flesh along the shimmering marble floor until I’d cleared the pavilion and made it to the bottom of the steps. I might have let him bounce a little harder than necessary down each stone tread. A few more bruises weren’t going to hurt him, but they’d make me feel a tad better.
I would take him to the regenerators, but I needed some answers first. When I finally soared into the skies, I headed for the one place that I knew no one would follow.
6
I landed in the middle of the quiet glen I came to whenever I needed time alone outdoors. The soothing greenery relaxed my nerves and helped me think. At least, it usually did. The bundle of blubbering flesh I dropped at my feet should have felt lucky for what I’d done for him. This was not a place I’d ever wanted to share with anyone.
“Shut up that noise! What’s wrong with you? You have the opportunity to earn glory in a way that not everyone gets. You should thank me instead of trying my patience!”
“I shouldn’t be here. Where is my leg? Oh, this is so terrible.” The man cried and pounded on the ground like a baby. I was half tempted to just shove him into the Gap myself.
“Listen! Stop that snivelling. Can you feel the pain of your missing leg?”
He finally shut up for more than a couple heartbeats and stared at his absent limb. “No. Why is that? Why am I not bleeding out, either? How is this possible?”
Had this fool learned nothing in induction? “You are einherjar now. You aren’t human anymore, so the rules are different. Every morning, you go to battle to condition for fighting at Ragnarök. Dying a glorious death is an honor. Why is this so hard for you to accept? I saw how you fought before you died in Midgard. You were brave and cunning. What happened?”
“That was a job! I’ve tried to tell you, someone hired me to delay that guy, nothing more. I need to go home and forget all about this. You brought me here, you can take me back, right? My name is Stuart. That’s my name. Stuart.”
Hired? “What are you talking about? Whatever job you were doing had nothing to do with what happened. And I don’t care what your name is.”
“I heard that kidnappers will be more likely to let you go if you tell them your name.”
“I’m not a kidnapper.” This guy was impossible.
“Listen, I was working out at the gym, getting ready for a boxing match over the weekend, when this guy showed up. He watched me spar for a while. I thought he might be a promoter, so I made it a good show, you know. Then he told me he was looking for someone to tangle with a guy, just to slow him down and keep him occupied for a while. Nothing more. He offered me more money than I make in two months, so I jumped at the chance.”
All sound disappeared. The smell of the rose bushes I’d planted in secret faded to nothing. Someone had set him up to get in my way. How was that possible?
“He didn’t say nothing about flying women or fighting crazy medieval warriors to the death for eternity. I didn’t sign on for that. I just wanted to get paid. Please take me back!”
There was no way anyone could know our targets, could they?
A force around my calf jolted me back to the situation at hand. Stuart had wrapped himself around my leg and was begging me to return him to Midgard. I actually felt sorry for the guy. Maybe I should be more careful . . . clearly, he didn’t belong here.
“There isn’t anything I can do. You can’t go back.”
“What? There has to be a way. What about that guy on the big chair? Is he in charge? Let’s go back there and ask him. I can’t keep doing this, I’m a welterweight. All I’ve ever owned is a pocket knife, and these guys come at me with axes and worse.” He flopped onto the ground and covered his head.
The sobbing was tedious, but I really couldn’t blame him. Now that I was really looking at him, his lean build seemed skinny compared to the others. There had to be something the regenerators could do to at least give him a chance. Put some bigger muscles under his skin or something.
“You can’t go back. Accept that. I’ll talk to someone and see if they can’t help you have a better chance. Maybe give you some lessons. You were a boxer . . . didn’t that teach you to fight?”
“Is there some other job? If I have to stay here, can I do something other than face those heathens?”
“Berserkers. Heathens are different—and no. If you don’t stay here, your other options are Helheim or the Gap. You don’t want either.”
“What happens in those places?”
“Helheim is the closest realm to Muspelheim, the land of the fire giants. They churn up the molten core of the human realm and create havoc with volcanoes and vents under the ocean that cause earthquakes, tsunamis, and all kinds of disasters. The Gap is the eternal mist. It’s the in-between, neither dead nor alive. You would float through the mist searching for a way out, reliving all the mistakes you’ve ever made, seeing the opportunities you had that you wasted, forever.”
His eyes were wide, but at least he’d stopped crying. I think it was sinking in that his options were truly limited. He stared into the air in front of him, sitting as still as a statue. I gave him a minute to process his fate, but I needed information.
“Tell me about the man who hired you. What did he look like?”
When he looked at me again, his eyes were dull. The regenerators might have something they could work with, if he would stop fighting against his fate.
“He was tall, wore an expensive overcoat. I remember thinking how warm that would be in the winter, but it made little sense when it was so nice outside. He had darker skin than me.”
He pinched his brow as he focused on my face. It was unnerving to have someone study me so closely.
“He looked kind of like you, the same eyes. But he was friendly, made me feel welcome.” He twisted his mouth and shrugged.
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. His description could have been any of a thousand different guys. I sighed. I needed to take him to the induction hall and finish this. I didn’t need him tainting my grove any more than he already had.
“He had a ring,” the man continued. “Lots of guys wear rings, but this was different, out of place in a way.”
Chills prickled my arms. That didn’t happen often, and it startled me.
“What kind of ring?”
“A big blue one. Sapphire, maybe, but it was large, and he had no other jewelry on. Most guys that would wear something like that would wear other stuff, too, which is why it seemed out of place.”
The sweet scents of the glen squeezed against me making me nauseated. I rubbed my hand on my throat as what he said sank in. The man in the coffee shop had been wearing a ring just like that.
I headed to the harvester hall after I dropped Stuart off.
I could have told him I’d try to get him reassigned, but what good would that be? Was there even such a thing? What was he supposed to do, polish swords? He needed to use his brain to find a better way to fight, and he wouldn’t be able to do that if I coddled him. He’d figure it out eventually.
Gertie had gone on an assignment and I wasn’t sure she’d be back yet, but I could wait. At least until feast time. Once a Valkyrie became a commander, they might have to stay longer in Midgard to find the right target, but apprentices still had to check in before the feast started.
There wasn’t anything to do, and I eyed the halatafl board, but memories of Jemma surfaced and I decided against it. There weren’t any books because not enough Valkyries knew how to read. Do I know anyone else who knows how? I couldn’t recall anyone, but I was sure there were others.
A pitcher of water sat on a table in the corner, and I wandered over and poured myself a drink. It was getting close to the feast, and I worried for my friend. Gertie was strong and a bigger stickler for the rules than I was. She had to be back soon. A few others checked in as I waited. Some acknowledged me, some didn’t. I didn’t care.
Waiting was g
etting tedious, and I would have to leave for the feast hall soon if I wanted to get a seat. It was possible Gertie had come back before I’d arrived and had already left. That had to be it.
I set my cup down on the tray and turned for the door. Behind me, the commanders’ door opened from the back room, and I twisted to see who was leaving.
To my surprise, Gertie walked out with two others who I knew worked in command. I stopped and waited for her to finish her conversation with them. They smiled and laughed at some joke like they were all friends. Why was Gertie talking to them? It made little sense, but I was sure she’d let me in on it when she saw I was waiting for her.
The first piece of training for a new apprentice was to study our surroundings. To notice and mark each person in a room, on a street, on the battlefield. I stared at Gertie, watching for signs that she’d noticed me. She gave none. The poor girl would never make it past the apprentice corps; she needed to pay more attention. What if I’d been a spy?
When she finally noticed me and gave a tight smile, I felt relieved. At least she’d looked around. That was something to work with. I’d suggest that we train together again in the morning . . . go early before sparring started, and practice.
“Hello, Niasa,” she said as she walked up after waving goodbye to the commanders she’d been talking to. They gave her a look like they were sorry she had to stop and talk to me—which was weird, and I thought it rude.
“Hey, I was waiting so we could sit together at the feast. I also wanted to ask you a couple questions, but that can wait. What were you doing in command?”
“You might as well find out now. I finished my apprenticeship and graduated to commander. They have assigned me to watch you.”
7
Gertie had become a commander. “You’re not an apprentice anymore?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“That’s what happens when you do your duty. Pay attention to the rules, Niasa. I tried to warn you. They’ll monitor every assignment now, until you prove you can stick to the target you’re given.”
“Toril did this? Why does anyone listen to her?” I didn’t need a monitor. But, even if it were necessary why would it be Gertie?
“She pushed, yes, but an order like this can only come from one place.”
Gertie’s words hit me like a hammer to the gut. Odin had said probation, and that was what he’d meant. Did he truly not trust me? He’d seemed amused by Toril’s whining before, but now he was having me watched. Would he bring me to trial?
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?” I whispered.
Gertie stared at me with a strange look on her face, confusion mixed with frustration.
What is that about?
I had done nothing to her, unless she was upset about the training session. She’d have done the same to me if she could have.
“You really need to stop and look around. Being right is so important to you that nothing else matters. For as long as I’ve known you, all you’ve wanted is to prove yourself, yet you constantly battle against the way we do things. It pulls everyone away from you and keeps you alone. Everything is a struggle with you, and it’s exhausting to be your friend.”
She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know. It wasn’t hard to figure out why I had so much time to myself when everyone else was off having fun playing games or betting on strength contests. Others saw the world as it was, but I didn’t have that luxury. They had earned their place; I was here because of a mistake. It shouldn’t surprise me that Odin had finally come to his senses.
Although Toril was pond scum, it really wasn’t her fault. I’d had plenty of time to secure my place, and I hadn’t.
“Why is it that I can’t accept things? I look around and I see the good, but then I see how it can be better—not just for me, but for everyone. How is that so wrong?”
“It’s not bad, but it’s not always necessary. If someone likes the way things are, pointing out what’s wrong with everything only makes them uncomfortable. They don’t see that you care. They think you believe you’re better than them.”
How could I be better when I wasn’t even equal? Sometimes I wondered, if I’d been able to grow up with other children, it would have made it easier for me to make friends. Probably not.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it right then.
I’d created enough drama for the day, and Gertie surely wanted to be anywhere else. I resorted to what I always did to keep things light between us.
“But, I’m charming.” I tried to give her my sweetest smile, but it was like my lips wouldn’t curl. I’m sure I ended up looking like some confused clown.
“Let’s go get something to eat.” Gertie shook her head and sighed. “You’ll feel better once you’ve had food. Nothing will happen until morning, and you can start fresh. Besides,” she wrapped her arm around me and herded me toward the door, “I need some mead.”
I felt my feet moving with her, but the world was a fading landscape of gray. Obviously, I knew I had no friends except Gertie. I didn’t want them, not really. Friends took work, and that took time. I’d rather spend my free time studying battles and reading. If I could do those things while laying alone in the sweet grasses of my glen, even better.
Gertie was probably right though, it was my attitude that kept others away from me. But, I was more concerned about the monitoring. Could I really be making a mistake? If I never chose an einherjar for myself, how could I truly make a difference? Stuart was a disappointment, for sure, but they weren’t all that way. They couldn’t be.
I’d wanted to talk to Gertie about the coffee shop guy, Donovan, but now it didn’t seem like a good idea. It had to be a coincidence, anyway. Maybe I’d check the report of the guy they’d assigned me instead of Stuart. There had to be a clue there that would give me some answers.
“Do you think there’ll be cake?” I asked. With a plan forming in my mind, my appetite returned.
Again, Gertie had that look on her face. I was missing something. When people didn’t just come out and say what they were thinking, it confused me. I didn’t understand subtle very well.
“There’s always cake!” Gertie smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
Before we left in the mornings, the commander read each assignment from a vellum scroll. Everyone found out where they’d go and who they’d find. Most went in squad units, like the one Toril led.
I was the exception. The commander, Regin, who only answered to Odin, would hand me a private scroll to read myself.
The scrolls weren’t a secret; the commanders kept them stacked on a table in the back room. Why they recorded the assignments made little sense, but it also made no difference. All I cared about was that the information existed. Maybe there was something about the guy who fought with Stuart that could explain the nonsense he’d spewed.
I waited until I’d finished my cake—because why would I leave before that?—and then excused myself from the feast. Gertie eyed me suspiciously, which I understood, since I never left before the fighting broke out.
A hall filled with thousands of berserkers celebrating a battle by drinking barrels of mead always ended up in contests of strength. Usually, to keep some kind of order, they drew rings for challenges. Groups of two to six would enter and fight until only one stood victor. It was the best part of the night.
It was also the perfect time for me to go into command, since it would be empty and I could be alone to think.
I explained that I wanted to look over some information in my books, and that seemed to please Gertie. She waved her hand at me as an argument began at a table fifty paces away. I could have told her the truth, but with her new tasks, she might have fussed about it. It was better to keep it to myself.
The harvester hall was across the battlefield from the feast hall, and I followed the well-worn path between. Hiding behind clouds, the moon gave just enough light to help me stride with ease.
Even so, I hurried. I’d never heard of a d
ecree against entering the hall alone, but that didn’t mean I’d not accidentally ignored one, so there wasn’t time to waste. No one would hear or see me so far away, but the more I thought about it, the more unsure I was about going.
I ignored the feeling. It wouldn’t take much time, I knew where the information was. I just had to find the right scroll from the day before. I’d be in and out before the fighting was at its best.
As I neared the harvester hall, movement caught my attention and I ducked around the corner, out of sight of the front door. A moment later, I heard footsteps squelching in the mud as they hurried away. My heart raced like a rabbit as I stood still and waited until I was positive there were no more sounds. Quickly, I snuck through the door and into the dark hall.
When I entered the back room of the hall, I hesitated. It was where the commanders used seiðr magic to connect to Midgard. The smell of dandelion and mallow lingered in the air from the incense burned earlier. Rowan staves and pottery bowls filled with the red berries lay on a maze of tables throughout the room. I worked my way to where Regin always sat, careful not to disturb anything. Stacked on the far end of the biggest table lay the scrolls of vellum. An intricate red ribbon kept some tied, while others fell open, loose. I searched through those first. Why figure out the fancy loops to re-tie them if I didn’t need to?
I intended to read through the scrolls quickly, but the details of each assignment fascinated me. Unsurprisingly, most were the same, documenting the need for those with strength and courage in the face danger. I didn’t have a problem with those things, but there was a need for some who could think, too, wasn’t there?
Then I noticed something odd.
Most of the scrolls gave the name of a battlefield, which made sense, but the locations were in similar areas—mostly concentrated in Europe. I always had a four-axis coordinate: three points to distinguish where, and one for when. These had no directions.
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