Einherjar

6

In the days leading up to Baldordagr, Blader's training intensified as Loqé took over. She pushed him hard, especially during their sparring sessions. In both hand-to-hand combat and sword practice, she didn't show mercy, forcing Blader to strengthen his blows, quicken his response time, and improve his techniques if he wished to minimize bruising and cuts from Loqé's swift blade.

Blader grew to have respect for the Valkyrie. She was swift, excellent with a weapon, and quite acrobatic during a fight. Although he still didn't know exactly what her power consisted of or what she could do with it, he saw traces of it while they sparred: a jump too high to be natural, a movement too quick to be reflex, the ease with which she handled her sword too effortless to be nothing. The best he could describe it as was that Loqé had a certain grace in combat, but other than that, he had no grasp on what her strange power was.

As the afternoon of Freyjadagr drew closer to evening, Loqé and Blader finished their last training session and sat on the edge of the creek, dangling their bare legs in the cool water. Loqé's braid stuck to the back of her neck, the flyaway strands sticking up all over the place after she splashed the water in her face and ran her hands back over her hair. Beads of water now were laced onto her hair, glimmering in the sunlight as a couple drops ran down her face.

Blader cupped his hands, dipped them in the creek, and dumped the water over his head, shaking his hair out as the cool liquid dripped down onto his shoulders and drops flew away from him with the motion. Loqé leaned away from him, ducking her head away as he grinned.

"You done?" she asked, scowling.

"Yes," Blader answered. Both of them stared into the creek, watching the current meander past.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Loqé asked.

"I hope so," Blader said. "How hard is the assessment?"

Loqé pursed her lips, idly kicking her legs in the creek. "It tests your abilities and your potential to be an einherjar. It's not known to be too difficult, not to einherjar."

Blader nodded. "I have a question," he started. Loqé looked over at him, and he could already see the tension in her muscles, the wariness creeping into her eyes. "What's it like, being a Valkyrie?"

He could tell by the slight widening of her eyes that she hadn't expected him to ask that question. "Oh, it's fine," she answered, pausing as she searched for the words. "It's hard, because everyone hates us, but I suppose it could be worse."

"What's worse than being a Valkyrie that no one supports?" Blader asked.

Loqé looked like she didn't want to answer, but she did, her voice quiet. "Being Fallen."

"Fallen?" Blader queried.

"A Fallen Valkyrie," Loqé told him hesitantly. "One who falls away from her sisters, leaving behind her loyalty. You have a mark on you once you fall, one that singles you out for every arrow, sword, and energy beam in your vicinity. You are free sport for anyone who wishes to kill you. Anyone, not just the other Valkyries, can take your life, although your sisters will make a tremendous effort to get to you first."

Blader furrowed his brow. "That sounds harsh."

"It is desertion," Loqé shrugged. "We swear our lives away as Valkyrie. They are no longer ours to control, only ours with which to obey. Those that think otherwise, after taking the oath...they become Fallen."

There was a note in her voice, just the barest hint of resentment and sadness, as she spoke about Fallen Valkyries. Blader decided not to push the subject any further, feeling grateful she had even talked about it at all. "Can you tell me any more about the einherjar?" he asked instead, more for the sake of changing the subject than for actual information.