Chapter 4.2:

  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, at least. But still, I stumbled out between the prone forms of other vikings 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 present, along with the standard swords. But 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.

  My thoughts flashed back to the voice I'd heard in the arena. For a moment, 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 else moved past it. Even people who were looking for empty rings completely ignored it, and ignored me as well. 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. It 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 as my foot touched the sandy surface. Looking around, even the warriors in other rings seemed to notice it, but no one seemed to be able to pinpoint what was happening or where it was coming from. I could, though.

  A few feet in front of me, a trap door was sliding open. Sand sifted down into 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.

  This was interesting, it was the first truly new thing I had encountered since I arrived. 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 into the space, 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 in particular caught my eye. It was right next to the desk, opulent with 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. 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, welcomed me with a bow. He looked strangely out of place, as though he were from modern times as opposed to the time of Norse warriors like most everything else here. "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 an honest-to-goodness 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.

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  "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 in 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.

  ***

  The incident with the bow 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 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 took me a while, and I felt myself tire a bit mentally as I searched. 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, when someone does particularly well in the challenge, the gods will favor them with a hint. I assume we will be fighting with two swords in the next one."

  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 pay off quite well. 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 an offhand weapon of any kind would be better."

  He shrugged as if it wasn't that important. Still, he was more than willing to give me pointers, showing me how to use the blade 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 go for 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.

  My 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 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 work with 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 tin the Lesser Hall. I could always just die now and not move forward. But If I did that, I might lose my seeding 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 kicked. I picked up sand and flung it in his 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 managed to wrest the sword away from the man.

  Now, with both blades, I had no trouble pulling through to the melee again.