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EV Chapter 4:
🕑 Added 2024-05-25 15:54:28 +0000 UTCChapter 4:
Suddenly, I was rising. Looking up, I saw Mary staring down at me. My Valkyrie was so pretty. Somehow, my sight recovered, and my swimming vision eventually focused on her beautiful black eyes. They looked so gentle as she smiled down at me. "Well done, Miles. Seven kills, very impressive. Soon, I'll be able to take you beyond the Lesser Hall and into Valhalla proper. That will be so nice."
Gratitude filled where my heart would have been in my physical form. Her words had been the only warmth I had known for a very long time. Even as she was bringing me to the Courtyard or out in the Snowbank, Mary was never anything but kind to me. Even if she refused to answer most of my questions.
For some reason, I felt she might answer this time if I asked rather than make small talk as was our tradition. I just had to think of the right one to ask before the moment slipped away. Suddenly, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind before I had a chance to stop myself.
"What hall have you reached?" I asked. If I knew that maybe I could use it as a goal to meet her, that would be good motivation to climb higher. She gave me another heart-wrenching smile and a gentle laugh.
"I am a Valkyrie, a servant of Odin. I'm beyond the halls. Things will become more clear the higher up you get. There are many paths through Valhalla for those willing to find them. The gods realize that honor comes in many forms. Once I can talk to you in person, I'm sure we will have a great time, my warrior."
I didn't have anything in me to ask another question. No energy or willpower was able to force my mouth to move in this form. So I just simply relaxed, and things faded before I found myself stepping into a Lesser Hall once more. It was the same as it was last time. A long hall with hearths and food and many folks making merry. But it felt different as if I was in a different part of the hall.
Those around me were not just big brutes or someone who had just snuck in. They were a little more formidable. One person, though, however, was the same. Bjorn roared at me, and before I knew it, I was enveloped in a rib-crushing hug, "My friend! You've made it! I knew you had it in you. And I didn't even have to go looking for you!"
Looking for me? I thought in disbelief. Really? He had searched me out. That would explain why he was in last night's section of the hall, but still, I was flattered. What did he see in me? Bjorn pulled me to a table where a bunch of large, heavily muscled men were sitting and introduced me.
"Miles, that's Mark, Jonas, Hugo, and Rolo," he said, pointing to each in turn.
Mark was a distinctly Asian man with laugh lines around his eyes and a relatively narrow mouth. Rolo looked to be Puerto Rican?
Before our conversation went any further, Bjorn thrust a horn of ale in my hand and raised his. "How many this time?"
They all looked at me expectantly, and I grinned. "Seven."
As one, they looked at Bjorn more than me and then broke out into roars of approval.
"Seven!" They chorused, and we all tipped back our horns and downed the ale. For once, I was thoroughly on board with this.
Seven. That was more than halfway to Valhalla proper. Of course, the last half would be a lot harder than the first, and I doubted I could cheat my way through as I had. But progress was progress.
Jonas pulled me onto the bench next to him and passed a platter with several thick cuts of boar. "Damn, Bjorn, how'd you find someone with seven on their second night? I've been here two months, and I'm only at eight!"
They pulled me effortlessly into the conversation, telling me stories of their own conquests. Eventually, as we talked, the conversation turned to our previous lives. They started to tell me about how they ended up in Valhalla, their heroic final fights. Mark had been a sort of gangster and said he had died in a knife fight over territory. "Imagine my surprise when a fucking Viking welcomes me to the halls of Valhalla when I die. Not something a Triad member would expect. But I like it here."
Bjorn said he'd only been here for two years, but he was raiding an eighth-century English castle when he died. He was cut off from his boat and took on an entire squad of Pik warriors. Or so he told it. He distracted them enough for the rest of his raiding party to shove off with all the treasure they had looted. I wasn't sure how he was here at the same time as me, but when I questioned it, they kind of just shrugged and said time worked weirdly in Valhalla.
When it came to my turn, I kept it simple. Just that I was much older and had died in a bar fight with a broken bottle in my hand. That wasn't how I lived my life at all, but they seemed to like it. Bjorn said something about the old seeking Valhalla with one last fight. I just smiled and nodded, unwilling to shatter their image of me.
Around the fourth or fifth toast, we switched from ale to mead. I still didn't like the stuff, but it did go down smoothly and was more bearable once I was a little tipsy. As we finished the first toast of mead, something happened. The whole hall went still, and the only movement came the flickering of the hearths. Shadows dancing punctuated the silence.
"Bjorn." A familiar voice called out from down towards the end of the hall. "Never thought I'd see you allow a weasel into your company!"
The man in silk threw a turkey drumstick at Bjorn. He batted it out of the air and glared at the man.
"Saladin, you coward! You call my friend a weasel?" A table was flipped over, and a bench was hurled through the air, and for a second night in a row, I found myself waking on a cold hearth with a throbbing headache.
***
If I wasn't concussed yesterday, I clearly was today. Only the flight of the Valkyries pulling me from the battlefield managed to prevent lasting brain injury. I stretched and found that I wasn't the last one out of the hall. But still, I stumbled out and found myself on the training grounds. I worked my way over to the weapons rack and searched it.
There, I found spears and Halberds and everything that was normally there in the bottom row. Leaning against the back of the rack was an old, rickety bow with a frayed string and no quiver or arrows to go with it. I considered not taking it, but my curiosity won out.
Picking up the bow, I left the rack. Counting off the training rings, I went to the one indicated in the tip. Everyone moved past it. People were looking for empty rings, completely ignored it, and ignored me.
Several times, I was bumped into rudely with not a single complaint or fight started, as opposed to what would normally be the case with an accidental shove in this place. This was very odd and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I stepped into the ring.
A grinding noise echoed throughout the training grounds and in other rings and by the training dummies. People looked up and around, but no one seemed to be able to pinpoint what was happening.
A trap door was sliding, and sand was dumping down what looked to be a crypt entrance. Stone steps led from the ring, and a faint glow and flicker of torches lit up the passageway at the bottom. I slowly made my way down the steps below, holding out the bow as if to ward off any danger.
I wasn't sure how effective it would be as a defensive weapon, but it was all I damn well had. At the bottom of the stairs, the place leveled out, and a simple wooden door barred my way.
It swung open easily, and a warm light spilled out. Stepping in, I found myself in a polished marble entryway with a welcome desk at the end. Off to the side, there were many entrances, but one caught my eye.
Next to the desk was a velvet rope barring the way to what looked like a fancy steakhouse restaurant. The kind that served fine wine and delicious ribeyes. My mouth practically watered as I imagined the taste of wine. I wasn't sure what got me about that. Still, the thought of a fancy dinner after the copious amounts of roasted boar and turkey legs I had been consuming really got me going.
I made my way up to the counter, and a man in a sharp suit, as if he was from my time, welcomed me with a bow. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"
"No, I didn't know I needed one," I said in response.
"Hmm. We can put you on the waitlist, but it will be unlikely that we can get you in today."
Shrugging, I wasn't sure what to make of this. This was not at all like anything I had encountered in Valhalla. Was this what Mary meant by saying Valhalla had more paths than I was aware of? The man tapped at what looked to be a computer in front of him. "While I have you here, could I interest you in one of our promotional deals? I can offer you this."
He extended his hand, revealing a small vial of purple liquid. I cocked my eyebrow at him and didn't move to take it. He smiled and set it on the counter edge near me. "It's a blessing potion. We only ask a simple favor in return. This will give you a temporary boost to speed and strength of plus two, nearly guaranteeing you the next win."
The man smiled, reminding me of a used car salesman. I had dealt with far more obvious nefarious things than this but wasn't about to give in that easily. "What's the favor?"
"Oh, nothing much, really. We just ask that you pour one out in Loki's name." I thought about that. Pour one out had a lot of room for interpretation, but if it was as simple as it seemed, surely that was worth it.
"Could you be more detailed?"
"But of course. All you need to do is take one horn of mead full to the brim and pour it onto the ground while saying, 'For Loki.' You don't need to shout it or even let anyone know what's going on. In fact, if no one knows why you're doing this, it would be better. Loki does like his tricks, after all," the man said with a sibilant smile.
I shrugged. That didn't sound like much at all. And a boost to strength and speed could be game-changing. I took the potion and slipped it into the pouch at my waist. The only question was, did I want to save this for later, or did I take it tonight to make sure I got into the hall again? I guessed I would decide at the moment.
Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I looked up and found that the world had changed around me as I was putting the potion away. I was at the bottom of the stairs, and behind me, there was nothing besides a stone wall. Shrugging, I walked back up the stairs and found myself out in the arena. Once I stepped off of the arena, I looked around and found that there was nothing but an empty spot where I had once stood.
***
That whole exchange only lasted for less than an hour so I still had plenty of time to train for the day. Grabbing one of the swords that matched that of the current challenge, I searched for a second one that was similar. I found one that was a slight bit shorter but pretty close to the same size.
Heading off, I kept Bjorn in mind, trying to see if I could will myself toward him. It was a slight bit draining of my mental energy, but after passing nearly a dozen training rings, I found him and a few of his friends sparring. Rolo saw me and waved me over as they greeted me with grins, and we paired off to spar. Bjorn took a look at my two swords and cocked an eyebrow. "You got a tip about what will happen next? Thanks for sharing."
I looked slightly surprised, and he clarified. "Sometimes, someone does particularly well. The gods will favor them with a hint. I assume we will be fighting with two swords in the next challenge."
Shrugging, I hoped we moved on. I didn't want to admit my cowardice or underhanded methods. Whether that would make Bjorn think less of me or word would get around that it was possible, neither was good. So I just said something noncommittal. "Maybe it was hard to tell, but I figured it might be interesting to try."
He nodded and started giving me pointers about how to fight with two swords. Apparently, it wasn't as simple as being doubly as effective as one sword. If anything, it was harder to master two swords to fight properly. But once you did, it could be better. But most people were better off just focusing on one blade at a time and becoming very good at it.
"Of course, a short sword was meant to be paired up with the shield," Bjorn said, "so maybe having a secondhand weapon of any kind would be better."
But he just kind of shrugged as if it wasn't that important. Still, he was more than willing to give me pointers, showing me how to use it as a counterbalance and to keep it in a proper guard position so it was always ready to block when I wasn't attacking. He also gave me a few tips on when it was worth abandoning all defense to two attacks at once.
We rotated through partners, and I found that each and every one of his friends was more than my match if I was using one blade. The trickiness of two gave me a little bit of an edge, though. Not enough to win any of the bouts, but enough that I wasn't getting flattened every single time. Overall, I couldn't complain, and I went into the challenge feeling more ready than I ever had.
The first opponent was bad. Maybe I was seeded higher now, but I was facing off against someone who I might have been able to beat even on my first day in the Courtyard. I crushed him in a few strokes so quickly that I couldn't separate him from his sword, and it disappeared along with him. I looked down in despair. How was I supposed to win now? I suppose there was a chance, but I wasn't prepared.
The second opponent was better, but not that much better. Still, I struggled. One sword was something that I had not thought I was going to do today, and I had been spending all my focus on practicing and envisioning myself with two. I kept trying to get my opponent's sword away from him, but he held onto it like it was his lifeline.
I couldn't blame him; if he lost his sword, he was as good as dead. But because I spent so much effort trying to separate them from his sword rather than finishing the fight, I took several light wounds that I shouldn't have.
Eventually, I gave up and just rammed my sword through his chest. Well, at least I had secured my spot through the Lesser Hall. I could always just die now and not move forward. But If I did that, I would lose my seating spot, and my first opponents would be trickier again. I grimaced and decided to give it my all. Going into this third fight, I gave up on trying to get the blade of a guy who probably was slightly better than me and just absolutely went crazy.
I used all the dirty moves Bjorn had shown me that I could do with my free hand the day before. I punched, and I kicked. I picked up sand and flung it in their eyes, and at one point, I even bit his arm as we were in a grappling exchange. Finally, with an arm lock that Hugo had shown me, I could rest the sword away from the man.
Now, with both blades, I had no trouble pulling through to the melee again.
