COF 04

The outside courtyard was filled with Einherjar, mostly men, but a few gifted women were among their ranks. They were all of the sword class, forged steel their constant companion as they strove to better their combat skills. The Gods demanded their Einherjar stay fast to constant training and vigilance, for war could break out at any moment between the nine realms.

Lucian leaned against the ivory walls, a hand over his head in an attempt to filter out the rays of the blazing sun. Occasionally a stray arrow would launch itself over the outside wall, usually implanting itself into the ground, but at times nicking a soldier. A sheepish sorry would be offered from the other side of the wall, a clear indication that a new Einherjar had not quite mastered his aim with the bow and arrow before he had died.

Lucian ignored this, choosing instead to stare off into space, his thoughts taken root elsewhere…Sullen and quiet, the blonde haired youth had not much to say today, even when the class’ instructor sought to constantly belittle his form and movement during the day’s warm up exercises. His blue eyes flickered toward the center of the ring, where two men were engaged in a duel. Belenus, his wavy brown hair tousled, lunged forward, swinging his sword at a sharp right angle. His opponent blocked it, but was pushed backwards by several steps. The man didn’t have time to counter, could only keep on the defensive, as the nobleman continued to press his advantage.

“Good Belenus…” The instructor praised, an almost fond look in her eyes as she watched her prize pupil work. “But quit toying with him, just finish him off.” It was the Valkyrie Hrist who was their strict task master, having little to say to those she considered the weaknesses of the sword troops. She was cold and callous, not prone to taking small comforts for herself, be it something as simple as a smile, or taking a day to herself to spend with friends. Friends. Lucian thought. I wonder if the cruel Goddess even has any. Hrist seemed driven by only one thing, Silmeria, and was determined to whip her troops into shape so she could storm Brams castle, and take her youngest sister back from the Vampire Lord.

Sisters…she had two…the striking resemblance she bore to Lenneth was not lost on Lucian. Her hair was like darkness itself, long ebony locks that flowed down pass her back, the ends twining together to form a a braid. Not only did she have a hairstyle similar to Lenneth, but the armor was an exact match, only the coloring differing. Smokey black metal molded to her chest, snaking down to protect her stomach and lower back. Ankle length white skirts, flashes of her thighs appearing through the slits, and a feathered helm rested on her head. While knee high metal boots, and matching arm guards completed her outfit.

She turned towards him, and Lucian studied her face, noting how her features were more severe than Lenneth’s. Hrist’s cheekbones more defined, nose set at a sharp angle, her dark eyes had a dead look to them. The way she moved reminded him of a cobra poised to strike, an unspoken threat to all that this was a woman you never wanted to have angry at you.

Someone’s elbow nudged his side, and Lucian blinked. “What?” He hissed in a whisper, angry to be drawn away from his private musings. A man with black hair, short and spiky nodded towards the ring. “The Goddess has called your name three times already…you don’t want to give her cause to come here and fetch you personally.”

“The Heavens forbid…” Lucian said, stifling the urge to grimace. He pushed away from the wall, walking faster than normal. Hrist had one hand on her hip as she glowered at him, booted foot tapping impatiently on the cobblestones. “I would hope you will be more aware on an actual battlefield. You will have no friends to keep you from day dreaming, only the feel of a sword sinking into your flesh, the sudden pain alerting you to the fact you innards are spilling out onto the ground.” She said this loudly, voice carrying out in the open area for all to hear. There was hesitant, nervous laughter, they not liking the mental images the Goddess brought up when admonishing one of their own.

“I’m sorry Goddess.” Lucian said, eyes cast down. She turned her back on him, black braid bouncing behind her. “You there…” She crooked her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. Gold armor glinting in the sunlight, a mountain of a man stepped forward, towering over them all by at least two feet. His sword was out, hefted over his shoulder as he walked towards the ring. It would seem the massive girth of this man would more suitable to wield an axe in battle, than the thin little blade he carried. His head was shaven bald, only long strands of hair in the back remained, gathered in a long black ponytail.

“Your opponent.” Hrist smirked, and Lucian wondered whether she was punishing him for spacing out in class, or just being vindictive because of his relationship with Lenneth. A romance that seemed to have ended before it ever got a chance to properly start. Lucian bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on the giant’s face. Mordack merely grunted in reply, a bored look in his brown eyes, feeling he was too good to waste his time on fighting with a mere boy.

“Anything goes match.” Hrist said, and that was when Lucian decide she definitely had a vendetta against him. An anything goes match meant no rules, you could hurt—or BE hurt to any extent, needing not worry about reprieve. It was true that every night, before the feast in one of the halls of Vahalla, all the wounds Einherjar had earned in practice were magically healed. It didn’t mean getting hurt still did not hurt like the dickens. It was something Lucian tried to avoid at all times, though looking at Mordak it didn’t seem possible to come away from the encounter unwounded.

“Begin!” Hrist said, stepping outside the ring—a wide portion of land, that consisted of cobblestones making up a circular pattern over the dirt. As the two duelers started pacing, eyes locked on each other, Lucian slowly drew his sword from it’s sheath, the noonday sun causing the steel to flash with it’s reflected light. His blue eyes stared determinedly at the person in front of him. He feinted forward, Mordack bringing his sword down, his brute strength making Lucian’s sword arm ache as steel met steel in a clash that brought up sparks. Lucian backed away, rolling his shoulder to shake off the mild annoyance from his arm. Mordack quickly closed the gap between them, large hammy fist cuffing him on the head, leaving the red clad fighter momentarily stunned. The feel of a sword digging into his shoulder was what shook the cloud of confusion away, his lips parting to let out a cry of pain. He met Mordack’s eyes, and the giant slowly smiled, cruelly working the sword point around the open wound.

Gritting his teeth, Lucian switched hands, bringing his left arm up high. He swung the sword down in a slanting arc, aiming for Mordack’s neck. The pain in his shoulder subsided somewhat, as the gold clad warrior hastily leaned back, Lucian’s sword scraping across his chest plates. Lucian then kicked out with a leg, hoping to sweep the giant off his feet, but only succeeded in causing Mordack to stumble forward.

Hopping backward, Lucian bent his right elbow, the flat of his blade before his head, partly obscuring his face. His eyes seemed to gaze at Mordack’s sword arm, and the giant responded to the misdirection as planned. He started to swing his sword to force Lucian to return to defensive tactics. Instead he met with air, as Lucian ducked, and dashed to his left. He let out a howl of pain as the youth’s sword slipped in through the plates of his armor, gashing open his side. Mordack turned around, anger in his eyes, as Lucian pivoted on his foot, whirling around to flash a triumphant smirk. His expression froze as he gazed at something behind the giant, blue eyes widening as the air shimmered as though suffering from intense heat.

A green blur flew out of it, it’s speed lightning fast, an enraged cry of “LUCIAN!!” accompanying the humming sound it made as it traveled. The blur slammed into Mordack, knocking him aside without coming to a stop, not even slowing down in the slightest. Lucian had time to make out long gold hair flipping wildly around an angry face, green eyes boring hatefully into his, before the Goddess of Fertility was upon him. Green eyes flashing with rage, just before her fist came up, landing an uppercut on Lucian’s chin, as she demanded, “What did you do to Lenneth?!”

Lucian’s head was bowed back on his neck, eyes giving him the view of the clear blue sky, as he reeled from the strength of the angry Goddess. He had barely registered her first question before she landed a blow to his stomach, snarling, “Where is she?! What have you done to her?”

“What are you talking about?!” Lucian demanded, bringing up his arms to block a round house kick from Freya. “I haven’t seen Lenneth in days!”

“Liar!” A fierce slap across his face, brought Lucian to one knee.

“As amusing as this temper tantrum is…” Hrist snapped a hand around one of Freya’s wrists, whirling the blonde around to face her. “I would like an explanation as to why you felt the need to interrupt my practice session, and attack one of MY warriors.” A groan from Mordack, as he slowly sat up made her add, “Make that two of my warriors.”

“Feh!” Freya snorted, yanking her hand free of Hrist’s grip. “Do not interrupt me when I am in the middle of interrogating a suspect!”

“Suspect for what?” asked Hrist.

“For the disappearance of the All Mother!” Freya’s words caused the gathered Einherjar to let out horrified gasps, whispers rapidly broke out, as they heatedly debated amongst themselves over the revelation the Goddess of Fertility had mistakenly announced for all to hear.

“Missing is she?” Hrist arched an eyebrow. “Sure she didn’t just want to slip away for some private time?”

“And not tell anyone? Not tell ME?” Freya huffed angrily.

“Not if she wanted to ensure her little vacation would remain uninterrupted.” Lucian said, slowly standing up, sword still gripped in his hand.

“I know for a fact Lenneth did not take off of her own free will!” Freya turned to glare at the blonde Einherjar. “She has vanished without a trace!”

“She’s the All Mother…I’m sure Lenneth is capable of hiding her location…” Hrist said, voice sounding unsure.

“Maybe so, but still…there is wrongness in the air…a feeling of great loss…Haven’t you felt it too, Hrist?” Freya continued to stare steely eyed at Lucian. “Even if she were to choose to isolate herself, we would still sense her presence…instead there is nothing…just emptiness…”

“I’m sure you’re just overreacting…” It was the wrong thing to say, Freya launching forward to attack Lucian yet again.

“Idiot! Her divine aura is gone! Have you any idea what that means?!” She was swinging wildly, Lucian doing his best to dodge her attacks. “There is nothing of her, no mystical energy for the hounds to scent, not in all of the nine realms!” Lucian heard Hrist let out a shocked cry, “This cannot be!” It was more emotion than he had ever seen the Goddess display.

“She is gone, vanished without a trace!” Lucian seemed to be getting hit more often than not, and Goddess or no, he was not about to let Freya beat him to death. Not without a fight! Fingers gripping the sword hilt so tightly, he thought they would go numb, he slashed upwards, the sword between his and Freya’s body. Even as she was driving her knee into his stomach, his sword sliced open her cheek, a thin trail of blood marring her otherwise perfect face.

She was more outraged than hurt, dropping him in order to finger the wound. Eyes narrowed as she fingered the cut, blood staining her fingertips. “You heathen bastard! You dare strike a Goddess?!” Freya demanded.

“Only in self defense.” Lucian retorted, watching as the cut healed itself, within minutes Freya wouldn’t even have a scar, it would be like she had never been hurt.

But Freya did not appear to be listening. “Infidel!” She disappeared, only to rematerialize several feet in front of him. She hovered in mid air, the golden top of her head just about even with the wall’s tips. She brought up her hands before her, fingers flexing in complicated patterns, hair swirling wildly even though there was no wind currently in the courtyard. “Aerial Burst!!” Multi colored lights appeared around her arms, and placing them together, palm up, she directed the strike at Lucian.

Lucian began running even before the energy shot out towards him. He heard an explosion as it struck the ground, dirt and grass showering down onto him. “Aerial Burst!” The Goddess cried again, another shot forcing Lucian to drop down and roll out of the way.

“Critical Flare!” Lucian skidded to a halt before a small cluster of his comrades. Wild yells rang out, as they all began scattering to avoid the spread laser pattern Freya had hurled at her opponent. They all managed to barely get out of the way, the wall denting, and chunks breaking apart. A large piece of stone hit the youth in his back, bringing him down to his knees.

He heard the enraged Goddess call out, “Prepare to be cleansed! Divine Assault: Ether Strike!!” Oh Shit!! Lucian managed to think, struggling to his feet. He could feel the immense heat of the energy blast she had fired off, sweat breaking out as it drew closer. A blinding, brilliant gold orb of energy slammed into him, pushing him through the wall. He bounced against the floor several times before coming to a stop between two warriors. “Lucian?” A surprised female voice asked. He rolled his eyes in the direction the voice came from, and saw a petite woman in white and gray armor standing over him. She had dirty blonde hair that was cropped close to her ears and back of her neck. Jayle. He thought, having the wind knocked out of him kept him from saying her name out loud. He saw another familiar face, the soldier’s blue armor a slightly darker shade than that of his hair. Kashell, hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking as shocked as Jayle was.

“You’re finished.” Mocking laughter drew his attention to the gaping hole in the wall, Lucian struggling to lift his head. The Goddess of Fertility flew into the room, feet touching down on the tiles. Freya smiled in satisfaction, her eyes cold and cruel as she stalked towards Lucian.

“Freya, what is the meaning of this?” demanded the God Ull, who was currently in the midst of improving his Einherjar’s fencing skills.

“Not now…” She curtly told him, watching as Lucian shakily got to his feet, open mouth panting desperately for air. “I’ll fill you in once I am done with this impertinent whelp. Lucian, I’ll give you one more chance to admit your crimes.”

“I already told you, I am not responsible for whatever happened to Lenneth.” Lucian gasped out, shrugging off Kashell and Jayle’s hands. He didn’t want them to be caught up in round two of his fight with Freya.

“You better pray you are not.” Upon hearing the sword slide out of it’s scabbard, Lucian eyes slid away from Freya, to the form climbing through the wreckage of the wall. It was Hrist, her lips pierced together tightly in a grim line. Her face was devoid of all emotion, her voice having a hard edge to it as she raised the sword, tip pointing at Lucian. “Or I will personally send you to the void myself.”

———————————————————————————————————————–

Upon awakening, Lenneth was aware of a slight discomfort in her stomach. It wasn’t pain per se, but it still made her feel unpleasant. She sat up, back resting against the pillows, and brought a hand towards her abdomen, gently caressing her flesh. It wasn’t something she had ever experienced as a Goddess, and she wasn’t sure what to do.

With a frown on her face, she slipped out of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold stone. “Just another “advantage” of being a mortal.” She muttered in annoyance. It normally took a lot more to make a God notice the change in climate, certainly something as subtle as this wouldn’t normally have gotten a rise out of her.

She walked towards the front of the bed, bending down to pick up the discarded clothes off the floor. She may not want to accept anything that came from the wizard, but she couldn’t deny the necessity of it. Besides, it was a better alternative to going around naked. She slipped into the bra and panties, pulling a thin white shift over the undergarments. It was sleeveless, with spagettie thin straps holding it up over her shoulders. The skirt barely covered her thighs. The dress was different, it’s sleeves covering her arms all the way down to her wrist, the length of the skirt falling around her ankles. The gray material was made of satin, and clung to parts of her body, most notable her chest and hips. It had a sweet heart bodice, showing a bit more flesh than she was comfortable with. Matching slippers of the same material went on her feet.

Lenneth absentmindedly ran a brush through her hair, for once not bothering to braid it. She was too interested in the room, wanting to check it for possible escape routes. Setting the brush down on the bed, she went to the door. It was locked—she already knew that—but checking it couldn’t hurt. She rattled the doorknob, trying to use brute strength to wrench it free from the door. No luck. Lenneth sighed. Next she focused on the walls, running her hands along the stone, knocking in hopes of hearing a hollow echo that might mean a secret passage lay beyond the walls. She also began pulling back the blankets, for the most part coming up with nothing. Till finally behind the bed, she found two windows hidden under the coverings. There was two problems, one being both had thick iron bars to keep her from slipping anything but her hand though the small space between each bar. The other was how high up she was, seeing a picturesque view of the tops of the forest, and flat, open plains stretching out for miles beyond the forest’s ends. She had to step away, over come with dizziness, panic making her wonder if in this mortal form she had a fear of heights.

She was just smoothing down the coverlet, when the door was unlocked. She whirled around, trying to appear innocent as the door was pushed open. Lenneth breathed a sigh of relief to see it was not the wizard, but one of his minions that had come to visit her.

“Master want you.” Zephyr said in his slow, hesitant manner of speaking. “You come now.”

“Why should I do anything that HE wants.” demanded Lenneth, crossing her arms over her chest. This baffled the green homunculus, she imagined she could see the gears turning in his brain as he tried to make sense of her words. There was a long pause, and then he pointed at her. “You come now!”

“I think not.” Lenneth retorted. “You tell your “master” he may be able to order his dolls around, but he won’t find me being so compliant. If he wants to speak to me, tell him to make an appointment! Though I don’t expect to be willing to talk to him as long as I am human!”

This was too much for the homunculus to understand, serving to only agitate Zephyr. All he knew was that his master had given him a command, and this female was preventing him from doing it. “Going now.”

“Yes, leave.” Lenneth said haughtily, turning her back to him. “And don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” She heard the heavy trod of his footsteps, and let out a shocked squeal as the homunculus’ hands gripped her by the waist. “What are you doing?! Put me down!” Lenneth cried, as he tossed her over his shoulder. “We see Master now.” grunted Zepher heading towards the door, ignoring the angry woman’s kicking and screaming.

And this is how Lenneth was presented to Lezard. She was railing curses at the homunculus, as they entered a room lined with bookcases. Lezard was seated at the table, wine glass held up to his mouth, when Zephry plunked down the former Goddess before him.

“Master?” Zephry asked, still holding onto Lenneth by her arms.

“That will be all for now.” Lezard said dismissively, wry amusement in his face as he watched his beloved try to struggle free of Zephyr’s grip. The homunculus nodded, let go of the woman, and turned to leave. “Philistine!” Lenneth snapped at Lezard, glaring angrily at him.

He chuckled, it only adding to her fury. “I see you two had a little misunderstanding.”

“Perhaps if you actually employed someone with a brain, there would have been no cause for a scene!” Lenneth retorted.

“I take it you didn’t want to join me for breakfast?” Lezard asked, sipping the amber liquid in his glass.

“I don’t want to do anything with YOU.” She told him. “And that includes eating, or making small talk! I demand to be sent back to my room!” She glanced at the table, wondering what that delicious aroma was, and saw the surface covered in platters of various food. To her embarrassment, her stomach let out a growl, the noise bringing a blush to her face.

“Well, it looks as if one part of your anatomy is in disagreement with the rest of you.” He stood up, and she nervously backed away, eyes wary. “Please Valkyrie…” He held out a hand to her. “Sit…get some nourishment in you…you wouldn’t want to collapse of hunger.”

“Gods do not suffer from hunger pangs.” She replied, eyes darting back and forth, from the food to his hand.

“Ah, but you are not a God at the moment.” Lezard reminded her gently. She stiffened, looking at him with sorrowful eyes. “Lest you think I have forgotten, I know. Just like I know and won’t ever forget you are responsible for my current situation.” She ignored his hand, and went to sit down. Lezard rushed over to grasp hold of the chair, pulling it out for her. Tight lipped, she reluctantly sat down, the sorcerer slowly easing her forward. He didn’t move away for several moments, hands lingering on the back of the chair. He was careful to not touch her, but when he leaned forward, it was enough to make Lenneth’s skin crawl. “Necromancer, what are you doing?”

A breathy sigh was her answer, his lips almost touching her hair. It was then she realized he was inhaling her scent, and she jerked away, the table’s edge pressing into her mid section. Lezard spoke as if nothing happened. “I’m sorry for the accommodations.” He sat down next to her, fingers adjusting his glasses. “I am used to dining alone, so have allowed most of the rooms to fall in disrepair.” He reached for a platter. “If you would prefer more grander settings, I can have Zephyr work on giving the dining room a thorough cleaning.”

“This is fine.” Lenneth said, sitting straight up, hands folded in her lap. She was doing her best to avoid looking at him, and to keep from accidentally brushing against his body.

“I didn’t know what you would like, Valkyrie.” He told her, unveiling more dishes. “So I made a little of everything.”

“Knowing you Necromancer, it’s probably drugged!” She told him. “Or poisoned.” He laughed at this, “I didn’t take you as being so suspicious my dear.”

“Can you blame me?” Lenneth asked, hesitantly reaching for a strawberry. She sniffed it, eyeing it’s color. It didn’t look like it was tampered with. Hoping she wouldn’t regret it, she popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly. It went down easy enough, and she reached for another. All too soon, she was grabbing for other foods, gobbling them down at an alarming rate, realizing the discomfort in her stomach had been hunger after all.

“Careful Lady Valkyrie.” His meal barely touched, Lezard had his chin propped up one hand, watching her eat, merriment dancing in his eyes. “If you eat to fast, you’ll get sick.”

Lenneth didn’t reply, but did slow down her rate of food intake. She noticed he kept calling her Valkyrie, as though it were her name, rather than a title she had once held. She wasn’t ready to illuminate him on the matter, thinking at least in this one matter she still had something that belonged to her, and her alone. She failed to realize she was doing the same thing to Lezard, by constantly referring to him as Necromancer, rather than by his name.