Worship of the Gods
Beware that, when fighting monsters,
you yourself do not become a monster...
for when you gaze long into the abyss.
The abyss gazes also into you
Friedrich Nietzsche
Chapter Sixteen: Stumbling Back
The arena rang to clang of metal.
Ellie stumbled backward, clumsily defending herself from Ajun. She was swamped in thick leather and chainmail, sweat trickled down her chest. Ajun pressed forwards, raising his sword and sweeping a downblow which knocked Ellie's sword into her face. Her nose crunched against the helmet, sending her staggering onto one knee.
She watched Ajun raise his sword again and managed to catch it with her own. It sent a shockwave through her arm. With a strangled grunt, she shoved him back and got to her feet in a less-than-delicate clamber. When she attempted to sideswing her weapon, Ajun slid his blade against it and slammed his elbow into her chest. She skidded in the sand.
"You're testing my patience, Eurelia! If you're beaten again, I'll have you hung, drawn and quartered in the Allfather's privy!" Tyr bellowed behind her.
Ellie rolled her head against her shoulders, earning a rattle of metal. Wetness dribbled down her lips. It wasn't cold like sweat; it was warm like blood. She gritted her teeth.
Ajun stood straight. "Am I making you look bad?" he said.
"So, I'll look more like you then?" Ellie spat.
Ajun stepped close, wavering slightly with exhaustion. He posed, holding his weapon tightly. Ellie watched his feet and the moment he swung, she sent him an undercut and caught the bottom of his helmet with her sword. A strangled cry left her lips.
There was a sudden cry of pain echoing out of Ajun's helmet. The thought of him losing made Ellie's heart race with joy. She wanted to win, to hurt him and prove her worth. How far she had come, or perhaps, fallen from where she once was.
He wrenched his helmet off, panting heavily. Spit flew from his mouth.
Taking a step back, she waited for Ajun to clumsily get back to his feet. When he did, he was wobbling more than before. She had already fought Naeva and lost; with that disadvantage, Ellie hoped Ajun would be sweet and let her win. Except, he wasn't, he wanted to be on the King's guard whatever the consequences.
Ellie reaffirmed her stance. There was no time to dance like Bil taught her or be a shadow. A memory of the apple from the Idunn Tree came to her. She lifted her fingers slightly and stared at the sword in Ajun's hand. Swimming with anger, she imagined magic leaching out of her and around his weapon. It tangled around his fingers, strangling his grip. The sword shook slightly in his hand.
Ajun glanced down and Ellie took the chance to lurch forwards and land a solid punch in his face. Her fingers ripped through skin, cartilage and bone. He screamed in her face, startling her.
The magic evaporated, filling her with cold. The feeling made her stumble back. She placed a hand to her chest as if her heart had been ripped out. A heave swept up her throat. Everything suddenly felt like it was becoming real. The last few weeks had been a blur and not once had the idea of violence stopped her from engaging in such acts. She unclipped her gauntlet and stared at her shaking hand. It was red with sweat.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, God. God, what am I doing? What am I doing?"
In the medieval attire, she was a hunching, ugly mess.
Ajun charged with a war-cry. He slammed into Ellie's chest, knocking her on her back. They were a grinding, smashing, scraping tangle of armour and swords. In a dazed confusion, Ellie dropped her sword. She struggled beneath him and looked around wildly for her weapon. It was just above her head, just out of reach. She strained her arm out, her sweaty fingers flailing in the sand. Attempting to gather her magic, she strained and began to sob. No magic swirled in her chest.
God, help me! God, help me!
Ajun dropped his sword and disappeared from her chest. He stamped down on her arm. A gut-wrenching scream echoed out of Ellie's lips. She stared up at Ajun, his figure shadowed by the sun above him. It hung like a halo around his head.
He grabbed the lapels of her steel collar and shook her like a rag doll.
"Stop!" she cried. "Yield!"
Ellie's head rattled on her shoulders. Her vision spotted with different colours. In the confusion, she dropped her sword and fought to push her helmet off, needing to breathe. She was suffocating beneath Ajun. The armour was too heavy, too hot and too much. With a cry, she shoved his face. Her nails caught his chin, scratching out a deep crevice that filled with blood. She could only see his dark eyes between the slits in his scowl.
Without warning, he slammed his face down onto hers. She was sure her teeth had become loose as the taste of metal swam in her mouth. She blubbered another plea.
"How many times have I told you?" Tyr yelled from far away. "Stop trying to kill each other!"
Ajun shoved Ellie again, knocking her into the sand so it spat up around her. She closed her eyes and in the dark, Ajun was a phantom figure beating the breath from her.
Tyr's heavy-footed approach could not be heard by Ellie. He stomped towards them and pushed Ajun as if he weighed nothing. He fell onto his backside, breathing heavily and realising what he had done. Tyr followed Ajun's wide eyes to the limp form of Ellie in sand-blanket speckled with blood.
The Next Day
Asgardian Training Quarters
Ellie was awake when morning came, on top of the living quarters once more. Even lying still, her body ached. Perhaps someone had shoved a pipe down her throat and blown her up with teddy-bear stuffing over night. Her arm was in a handmade sling, ripped from a shred of her tunic. Lounn pressed her to see the healers, but she would not. She was embarrassed. How had her magic not worked? How had she allowed herself to be so vulnerable beneath an opponent.
It had been a struggle getting to the roof. She was always there because the sun gave her warmth that her straw bed could not. The soft sounds of horses clopped nearby. Helga grunted into the courtyard with her cart, pulling the vegetable passed the guards.
Yet, there was no sun that morning. The chill made the roof-tiles cold, giving Ellie thighs goose-bumps.
The bell sang loudly, earning a clutter of disgruntled neighs.
She fought to open her right eye which resulted in her clumsily falling down the side of the barracks, tumbling onto a cart of hay that made her wince. She held her ribs, thankful that she had nothing to do that morning except yawn her way down to the Gala Inn for a steaming bowl of honeyed oats.
Lounn soon joined her, along with the other novices. They caught up pretty quickly, considering Ellie was hobbling down the cobblestone path. Twice, she leaned against a barrel or wall to steady herself. It felt like someone was twisting her insides.
"The læknir rune not work?" Gustav guffawed, strolling past. "Your eye is the size of a plum. She really is a little peasant musa, is she not?"
Ellie tripped over her own foot in an attempt to step towards him. He burst into cackles and followed several other trainees down to the tavern.
Tyr and the other trainers had been called to a preparation meeting for a tournament. Days like that were rare and the pub seemed like a perfect way to celebrate the morning. It wasn't just the upheaval of plans, but the weather. It was crisp, cool and grey.
Lounn helped Ellie the rest of the way, holding her elbow with grace. He whipped a gold cloth from his pocket with the healing rune embroidered into it. Obviously, it had been some fancy gift from his Mother which he'd rather give away to forget his homelife.
Naeva skipped onwards, complaining about a rumbling stomach.
Inside the Gala Inn, Ellie sat against the window, watching a stream beside the pub where Asgardians liked to dabble their feet. Her vision was slightly blurred, but there wasn't much to see. No one was there that morning. She fought a yawn and picked at the a fraying bit of cotton on her sling, trying to recall what she had prayed for on the roof. Strength, I prayed for strength, she recalled. Because I have to return the Alkar stone.
She remembered yesterday's training, the grit of sand in her mouth and up her nose. Vidar stunk of sweat as he wrestled on top of her. She had conceded him, unable to match his strength or stamina. That sharp, anger-fuelled hatred for Vidar struck her during her prayer. Heavenly Father, she thought powerfully, make me grow stronger.
Although, everyone had fought sloppily; perhaps sensing the moody weather of the next day. However, that was no excuse to give in to the struggles of being a human against an Asgardian-born weapon.
"Gods," Naeva complained.
Ellie looked at her. "What happened to your face?" she said stupidly, her lips felt numb and far too large. Only now did she notice her acquaintance was also nursing an injury.
Naeva lowered the healing, rune-embroidered material and laughed. "Look who's talking. Shall I call the Eir?"
"Shall I call you a new jaw?"
"Hate to say it but, Gustav was right. You have a plum growing out of your head."
"You shouldn't point out my battle wounds, ledrhals." Ellie grinned through her aching lips.
Lounn wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "We were all sloppy yesterday. Sloppy sword work, footing and fucking… just fucking sloppy, weren't we?"
Ellie shared a look with Naeva. "Who's knotted your braids?"
He lifted his shirt to reveal a very angry, purple bruise across his stomach. Naeva scoffed, which earned a wince. "Astrid was only able to do that because she called you a pretty boy and you couldn't stop blushing for long enough to focus."
"My life flashed before my eyes," he said. "Do you know what it's like to be told since marital age that no one wants you and you're a dishonourable fool? Thought that we could elope, and my father would finally be proud."
"Would you really want Astrid as your beloved?"
Lounn didn't have to think. "No. She likes women so obviously marrying me would make her miserable. Add her to the growing list of people I've disappointed."
Ellie offered Lounn his gold rune back, but he waved her off. Family were obviously a touchy subject. "If you don't plan on imprinting a rune on her, then you should definitely just swing a sword at her and be done with it."
"Sword-work is not my forte. I'm gonna wrench off my gauntlets and lunge at her," he laughed. Naeva shook her head, rubbing the cloth across her face as she struggled to smile. Lounn sipped his warm mead. "What aren't we allowed to use again? It's hand-combat again this afternoon, I'm sure. Don't want to be disqualified for eye gouging Gustav again. That bastard."
Ellie had been forced to concede twice by Tyr for using a fishhook technique on Gustav and a girl named Bodil. It was difficult to control survivalist panic when she knew she was losing. Instead of focusing on the win, she began ripping and pulling at whatever she could get her hands on. Ultimately, she ended up getting scolded by Tyr.
"The fish-hook," she said with a smirk.
Naeva offered the nutcracker choke, which was were you orient your knuckles into the adam's apple. "Definitely not the fish-hook either. You nearly ripped Gustav's cheek out, El."
"I wish I had. He never shuts his mouth."
"If you had've, then he definitely wouldn't have been able to."
Ellie chewed her oats, knowing Naeva was right, but craving revenge on someone for all of her failures. After so many weeks, her techniques weren't gaining her favours with Tyr or her physical health. She was no match against these ginormous beasts with war bred into their bodies.
And sometimes the Asgardians failed; couldn't keep up or fight properly. They would fall asleep in exhaustion in the dining hall only to be woken by Helga banging an iron pan. Ellie knew the Norse words for weakling and half-troll and dribbler, considering she'd been called them all by Tyr or her opponents. There were also a dozen Norse enchantments you could whisper into your fists before a fight that was meant to strengthen you, but none of them had worked for Ellie.
The only incantation she found that gave her actual peace was the morning prayer. Even Lounn's cloth wasn't working quick enough. The agony of being punched in an already bruised eye was unimaginable.
Every few days, she would get caught sliding off the roof by Lounn or Naeva. She kept her answer sharp, locking up the stories which could destroy her entire destiny. They thought she missed home; the made-up home where she had unhappy parents and no marital prospects. The real home. Well. She tried not to think about it at all. It was better that way.
Instead, she called them brusi's, and told them to their nosiness made them kerlings, which made them snort with laughter.
"What's got you knotted up?" Naeva poked.
Ellie cast her a glance. She wanted to tell her that she needed to be a shadow, that she had to dance around them all. The words couldn't quite reach her lips. "Nothing. Just sore," she said, her voice so quiet and lost in the building ruckus of the tavern.
References
ledrhals - leather-neck
musa – mouse
læknir rune – healing rune