Slowly, the einherjar made their way back to their base, picking their way among the corpses littering the rocky valley. Blader's hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, and blood crusted his armor and tunic from the many minor wounds he had sustained.

Skalfi walked beside him, Wolfsted, Vandri, and Sodull trailing behind. Too many familiar faces littered the frozen lava beneath their feet, eyes blank, scorch marks radiating away from the holes in their abdomens or skulls.

"I hate this part," Skalfi said softly, staring at the body of a young einherjar, a newly arrived skera fresh from Vigrid. The boy was only a year or so younger than the five of them, and yet his blank eyes could so easily have belonged to one of them. The hole through his throat was ghastly, blood leaking out and losing itself among the dark rock.

Blader squeezed her arm comfortingly. He knew exactly what Skalfi was thinking of when she looked at the dead soldier. Every time, it pained her, and every time, it seemed to strengthen her resolve to fight with everything inside her.

"Who was that witch?" Sodull asked, glancing over his shoulder as if he could still see the warrior, although she was long gone. "Another sorcerer? I didn't think Tros was in the habit of hiring actual breathing beings."

"What's Racarl, then?" Wolfsted asked pointedly.

"Teisl Andask," Vandri said, her face pale. Her blonde braid had drops of blood spattered down it and a scrape gleamed angrily on her cheek from where she had fallen on the rock, sometime during the battle.

"He's what?" Wolfsted said, looking at her in confusion.

"Not Racarl! The girl – the warrior. She's Teisl Andask."

"Andask?" Sodull repeated thoughtfully as Blader and Skalfi slowed their pace, falling into line with their friends. "Why do I know that name?"

"The Andasks is an extremely influential family," Vandri explained, her expression grim. "They're among the upper rings in Hraustliga. Second ring, I believe. Her father manufactures weapons, rifles in particular, and her mother was the daughter of a princess."

"What's she doing working for Domar Tros, then?" Skalfi asked, furrowing her brow. "Her family supplies the einherjar. Why is she fighting against them?"

Vandri pursed her lips. "The Andasks don't supply the einherjar anymore. Remember fighting in Alfheim? The rifles were faulty and took out an entire squadron when they attempted to fire them. Magni and Modi found someone else, told Andask he killed twenty loyal soldiers and his weapons would never be allowed near a battlefield again."

Blader frowned. "So is this vengeance?"

Vandri shrugged. "Perhaps. Teisl reveled in her family's status. She was secondhand royalty and heir to a munitions empire. She also had the Valkyrie rune."

Wolfsted held up his hands. "What? That warrior is a Valkyrie?"

Blader was already shaking his head. "No, she's not. The Valkyrie are firmly against Domar Tros and everything he stands for. Besides, she doesn't have the Fallen rune and if she committed treason against Asgard, the mark would be there."

Wolfsted nodded. "Ah, right. The mark of death. I forget Valkyries have a horrible poker face."

"Blader's right," Vandri chipped in. "Teisl had the right rune cast but her parents refused to let her join the Valkyries. She was their only heir – still is, in fact. They never could have another child and Teisl was all they had. They weren't about to give her over to the Valkyries."

"How do you know all this?" Skalfi asked curiously.

Vandri's face darkened for a second before her eyes cleared. "Upper rings," she said dismissively. "Besides, I went to primary and secondary school with Teisl. She always let people know exactly who she was."

Blader glanced at Vandri. "So she had the power to be a Valkyrie but never received the training?"

Vandri nodded. "Teisl always had a certain grace that even the best dancer among my class lacked. It was natural, it was innate. And she let everyone know. Not only was she heiress to a munitions empire and a secondhand princess, but she was also a sorceress."

Sodull frowned. "Valkyries aren't sorceresses, Vandri."

"Not if you're defining sorcery by Domar Tros and Jorid Racarl," Vandri countered. "Not by blood magic definitions. Their sorcery is more subtle, more in their fighting and agility than in their ability to cast spells. And besides that, the Valkyries of Hraustliga live among the upper rings – most of them have ties to the nobility. Teisl and I grew up seeing these powerful women that seemed to have no boundaries, seeing hints of their power at social functions or even just in the streets. It's...." Vandri bit her lip, searching for the right words. "We have more interaction with them and therefore see more of their power. As a child, it's sorcery, clear, powerful sorcery."

The einherjar finally reached the main base, the tent for the wounded already full. Rekkr scouts were combing through the bodies, searching for those who still breathed. Blader often watched the animated runes carefully, uneasy by their allowance in the midst of the einherjar camp. But as Magni, the commanding god in charge of the war effort, had explained, it was either them or the tired einherjar return to the field in search of their fallen comrades.

"Besides," Magni had added. "These rekkr are strictly called forth to find those injured, and to bring in the dead. They have no inclination to fight, to run to the others. They do not even have the ability to think for themselves, beyond their appointed tasks. There is nothing to fear from them."

They still made Blader uncomfortable, despite the god's words.

The contingent of Valkyries assigned to Magni's army stood in a group near the tent, conversing in low tones. Blader glanced at them as he passed, at the young women who had sworn their entire lives away just to be trained, to stand where they were standing now.

I wonder how Loqé's doing.

Blader's individual Valkyrie liaison and good friend, Loqé, was currently back in Njordesden, his hometown. She had been attached to Magni's forces for a while, fighting valiantly alongside her sisters and the einherjar, until a blast had ripped through her leg and forced her out of action. After emergency medical aid, Loqé had been shipped back to Njordesden for her convalescence, to do more tame work than fighting or managing the immediate war effort.

I'm sure Freyja likes having her back again.

Blader's youngest sister adored the Valkyrie and looked up to Loqé as a role model. In fact, Blader's entire family thought highly of the Valkyrie after she had helped them fight off a pack of wolves over a year ago. But while his parents and sisters thought of her as a good friend, his brother Ivan seemed to have deeper feelings for Loqé.

He still didn't know she could never return his affections, still didn't know that for Loqé, to love meant death.

Ivan will get over it, Blader always told himself. It's a fleeting emotion, nothing more than an increased sense of admiration for her help in saving Hilda.

He hadn't succeeded in truly convincing himself of that, however.

Skalfi brushed strands of damp hair off her forehead with a sigh. "I suppose we should clean up, get our wounds looked after before mess."

"I could use some food," Wolfsted agreed.

"As long as you don't compare it to something gross," Vandri said with a glare at Wolfsted, who just shrugged.

"Some people like educational talk during supper. I would have thought you'd be accustomed to such conversation, Vandrilla, being from Hraustliga."

Vandri's glare deepened on his use of her full name. "In Hraustliga, educational conversation over the supper table typically does not comprise of someone comparing our meal to some disgusting myth from the days of past. Perhaps Aldrians don't mind such gutter talk but we in the upper rings have more class."

Wolfsted's retort was lost as Blader's attention was captured by a young einherjar hurrying up to him. "Skera Thrym," she said, snapping to attention like he was an upper commander. "The god Magni calls for you to speak with him in his quarters."

Blader furrowed his brow. "Did he say what about?"

The girl shook her head and skittered away. Skalfi and Sodull, who had witnessed the entire exchange, both raised their eyebrows and glanced at Blader.

"She was scared of you," Sodull observed. "Could it just be the name of Thrym making the younger ones wary?"

Blader shrugged, not sure himself. He was a little unnerved by her reaction, which mirrored those of the younger class of einherjar. It was as if they saw him as a mix between awe-inspiring and frightening, and he hadn't decided whether it was because he was General Aetlun Thrym's grandson or the one who had saved the previous class of einherjar from the Reenactment by confronting Domar Tros and breaking his hold on the simulation.

"We're also older," Skalfi added. "Not to mention we're the last class to go through the Reenactment, since the High King dissolved it permanently afterwards."

"It's not like we have the einherjar to spare to waste time putting them through a test designed the kill them," Sodull pointed out. "They may as well just join the war after training, it'll be the same thing. Besides, they saw just how truly faulty it was." His voice was bitter.

"What does Magni want?" Vandri asked, turning away abruptly from her argument with Wolfsted and pushing herself between Skalfi and Blader. Wolfsted huffed in exasperation as Blader shrugged again.

"I have no idea. I'd better go see, though."

[----]

Magni's tent was positioned in the middle of the camp, the black fabric the standard issue for all the einherjar. It was one of the things Blader appreciated about the god; he didn't continually set himself above his soldiers, but fought alongside them and lived with them. He may have had his own tent, but it was nothing special, no different from all the others with the exception of being larger.

Blader stopped before the entrance, tapping lightly on the wooden post just beneath the fabric. "General Magni," he called. "Skera Thrym. I was told to report to you."

"Come in," the reply came, and Blader pushed aside the tough fabric door and entered the tent.

Magni sat at a small wooden folding table, a stack of files sitting neatly to the side. His thick brown hair was tied back from his face, his features said to so closely resemble those of his father, Thor. His fingers stroked his beard, the rings on his fingers glinting in the light as he looked at Blader. The metal armband on his forearm was crusted with dried blood.

"Take a seat, Thrym." The god gestured to the chair on the other side of his little table. "I need to speak to you about something."

Blader furrowed his brow, taking the proffered seat. What is this about? Is Magni not pleased with my maneuver during the battle?

"You fight well, Thrym," Magni said, regarding the young einherjar. "Ever since the Reenactment, I've been watching you. There's so much of your father and your grandfather in you. You're loyal, brave, skillful, and a natural leader."

Blader tensed, waiting for the other boot to drop.

"Thrym, what do you know about the Hammer Squad?" Magni tilted his head. "The Mjolnir Squad?"

Blader started slightly. He had not been expecting that. "Not much," he confessed. "I know they were the team that took out Dyr Gunar at Folr Wood. I know my father was a part of it, and that I bear his shield which you gifted to him at the dissolution of the group."

"I remember seeing that shield at Vigrid," Magni said. "When you arrived for training. It surprised me, to see it there, and then I found out who you were. Karl Thrym's son. Aetlun Thrym's grandson."

Did he just call me here to reminisce? Blader wondered, confused. I barely even interact with him. He's the Supreme General. I'm a skera.

"You don't know why I summoned you here, do you?" Magni asked, a grim smile twisting his lips. Blader shook his head.

"No, sir, I don't."

Magni sighed, taking a file off the top of his stack and opening it. Turning the file around, he shoved it in front of Blader.

He had been expecting to see his own record staring up at him. He had been in trouble enough times before back at his old school to recognize the moment his file was presented to him, to remind him off all the past stuff he had done. But it wasn't his own face that looked up at him.

It was his father's.

Karl Thrym, about twenty years younger, looked firmly up at his son from the file, his eyes grim and determined, dark hair cut short. Blader pulled the file closer, cocking his head as he studied the picture.

His father had brown eyes like Blader, in opposition to Ivan's blue ones, but both his sons shared his features, angular and firm, and a similar shade to his dark hair, Ivan's lighter than both Karl's and Blader's. People had referred to it as the "Thrym look" when Blader and Ivan had been young and accompanied their father to the marketplace. "Like father, like sons," they would say when the three would pass by and both Blader and Ivan would lift their heads up higher, for being like their father was the most important thing in the world to them.

It was only when they had grown older, after Thor's Bridge, after the bombing that had shattered the complacency of Njordesden, did their mother adamantly set herself against any of her children carrying on the Thrym legacy and joining the einherjar. "You know what horrors the battlefield holds!" she had exclaimed to Karl one night, Ivan and Blader both listening from the door of their room. "I don't want to lose them, Karl!"

"Neither do I," Karl said quietly. "Neither do I, Gunil."

"I mean, we already almost lost Blader and Hilda!" she had continued, as if not having heard her husband. "And look at the poor Racarls! Tveir raising three young boys all on his own, not to mention keeping up with all his blacksmithing! Those boys will grow up without their mother, knowing she was blown apart by the same bomb that could have been stopped if that damn Valkyrie would just focus on what is important! We could have lost Blader and Hilda like they lost Sofi, or the Kaups lost their daughter and her baby...."

And then Gunil had been crying and Blader and Ivan had crept back into their beds, neither saying a word to the other.

But Blader had enlisted anyway, in order to prevent himself from being expelled from his secondary school, and although his mother had hated the thought of him fighting, he knew she was proud of him. Possibly just as proud as his father was.

Karl Thrym had never spoken about his time in the einherjar. The little Blader knew about the tours his father did while a part of the military came from history classes and stories at their neighbor's house. He knew that the Mjolnir Squad, or the Hammer Squad as most people knew them as, were responsible for the fall of Dyr Gunar, the self-proclaimed Wolf King.

Magni watched as Blader flipped through the file. Karl Thrym's entire service record was contained in the pages and Blader felt overwhelmed by the information. He glanced up at Magni, too bewildered to comprehend any of the pages. "What is this?"

"Your father's file," Magni said. "I have one on you, but it's not as thick." He indicated the file stack next to him. "But I expect it will grow with time."

"Why are you showing me this?" Blader asked. "What is this all about, sir?"

"Your father was the first person I chose for the original squad," Magni said. "Your grandfather helped me come up with the idea. An elite squad of twelve einherjar and one Valkyrie liaison, trained to infiltrate and eliminate enemies. Then Sigra happened, General Thrym was killed in battle, and Dyr Gunar declared the start of his reign of terror. And your father fought so valiantly that day, pushing back the insurgents, that I knew he was the best person to command the squad."

Blader glanced down at the file, at his father's face. He had been the commander of the Mjolnir Squad?

"The squad was disbanded after Folr Wood," Magni continued, taking another file down from his stack. "Dyr Gunar was killed, his allies captured, and his plot fell apart. There was no need for such an elite team in times of peace." He looked at Blader, his eyes grim. "But there is now."

Blader went still, waiting for Magni to continue. "I have consulted with the council and they agree. The Mjolnir Squad is needed again and I want you to head it."

"What?" Blader asked, not sure he had heard right. "But sir, I'm just a skera."

"You're being promoted," Magni replied. "To skjoldr rank. You're also being given the title of commander in relation to your squad. You've shown yourself capable to handle the command. The maneuver you executed today? Using the tunnels to break behind enemy lines? Brilliant, Thrym. You won us the battle."

"I couldn't have done it without my comrades," Blader said. "Who will serve with me on this squad?"

"I have a list of candidates," Magni said, gesturing against to the file stack. "But I wanted to make sure you were on board first. This squad only operates well if its members get along well. You will have input as to who is asked to join."

"Then I have some requests," Blader said, closing his father's file. "Wolfsted Kyll, Sodull Trautt, Vandrilla Merki, and Skalfi Vekja. I trust them all with my life and I won't join this squad without them."

Magni looked at Blader, his eyes narrowed. "Kyll and Trautt were already on my list, as was Merki. But are you sure you want Vekja?"

"Why wouldn't I want Vekja?" Blader returned, struggling to keep his voice calm and controlled. "She's one of the best fighters in our company, sir, and one of the bravest. There is no one I would rather have than her. Besides, the five of us know each other. We fight well together."

Magni lifted an eyebrow. "You may not be aware of this, Thrym, but Vekja's father was shown to have connections to Dyr Gunar."

Blader pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to retort angrily. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I thought we didn't punish the child for the sins of the father. Sir, I've known Vekja ever since I arrived at Vigrid and I've never had a reason to distrust her for a moment. She is determined to prove herself, regardless of her father's official record."

Magni stared at Blader for a long, silent moment. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure."

"Then you may have Vekja," Magni said. "But if her allegiance doesn't fall with you, you will have no recourse to me."

"Agreed," Blader said through gritted teeth. "But Vekja won't betray me."

"Then you fully agree to join the squad?" Magni clarified.

"Yes," Blader answered. "I will."

Magni smiled. "Excellent." He turned his head, looking into a dark corner, and Blader's eyes widened as the shadows sprang to life and a girl walked into the ring of light. Her auburn hair hung in a braid down her back, her green eyes hard and grim, her face pale and thin. She wore black armor, which bore the marks of the recent battle, and a sheathed sword sat on her belt. With a calculating look, she turned her vivid green eyes onto Blader, studying him silently.

"Thrym, meet Sig. Your Valkyrie liaison for the Mjolnir Squad."

/**/

Another chapter up! The name of last update's mystery warrior is revealed and Blader and his friends are enlisted for the Mjolnir Squad! What did you think?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a vote and comment!

Skylar Wittenborn