The logs making up the walls splintered from the force of the explosion as the einherjar were blasted back on the shock wave. Blader managed to drag his shield up before his face as he was flung into the side of a building, the air forced out of his lungs. He felt the wooden shrapnel pepper his body, felt brief flashes of pain from the splinters striking his tunic, failing to penetrate.

Vaguely, he heard screams, yelps of pain. The ground seemed to tilt under him, or was that just the Transriot? No, no, I'm in Alfheim. I'm not on Thor's Bridge.

But Blader could have sworn he felt the Transriot tipping over from the force of the explosion, heard the screams of the kids in his class.

No, no. I left Thor's Bridge. I'm not on Thor's Bridge. Alfheim. Alfheim. I'm in Alfheim.

Blader shook his head violently, needing to clear it of the layered image of the Transriot and the ruined wooden palisade. He needed to see things clearly. He needed to think his way out of this. But all the same, the old train of thought raced through his mind, the one that came to him in all such emergencies.

What would Ivan do? What would Ivan do?

Stop it, Blader told himself. Ivan's never fought in the war. Ivan wasn't on Thor's Bridge. Ivan doesn't know what to do!

Blader shoved himself into a sitting position, ignoring the stabs of pain in his arms and legs. His shield hung heavy on his arm and he had somehow managed to keep his fingers curled around his sword hilt.

Vaguely, he heard groans from the other einherjar, but his eyes were drawn to the figure standing in the gap in the walls. Thin build, with reddish hair, there was something familiar about the stance.

He knew the figure.

Blader's lips drew back in a snarl. "Jorid."

Jorid Racarl approached, laughing slightly. Blood ran down his arms, coated his fingertips. The young man carried no weapons on his person, but Jorid didn't need weapons. He had his blasted sorcery as a substitute.

"Blader Thrym," he said as he moved closer. "Blader, Blader, Blader. Didn't you wonder when we would meet again?"

Blader drew his shield in front of his abdomen, watching Jorid's steps like a hawk. The green eyes of his former friend glittered through the settling dust from the explosion as he waltzed forward, his arms extended and angled up.

"I've been waiting for this moment for a long time," Jorid continued, eyes fixed on Blader, lips crooked into a manic smile. "How have you been doing? You've been fighting my rekkr, I see. How do you like it when they fight back?"

Blader drew himself to his feet, adjusting his grip on his sword. Pain flashed through his body as he moved, but he ignored it. "Why?"

It was a question he had been dying to ask since he had discovered Jorid was Domar Tros' apprentice, when he had returned to Njordesden from Vigrid a year ago. He had seen the scars on Jorid's wrist and had known that he had been a part of the Reenactment's hijacking, that he was working with Tros and performing the ancient blood magic. But he had never seen him since. He hadn't spoken to him since before the Reenactment, where Jorid had asked why he had joined the einherjar.

Now it was Blader's turn to ask why. Why, after their friendship, Jorid had committed treason. Why Jorid had attempted to kill him. Why he had turned to arcane magic.

Why all this had happened in the first place.

"Why?" Jorid repeated. "Why, Blader?" With a sudden movement, his smile slipping into a snarl, Jorid thrust his arms forward, crossing them at the forearms as he shouted, "Atlaga!"

Blader ducked behind his shield in the nick of time as a rune flashed in the air and slammed into his shield, sending him staggering backward. Jorid advanced, strange runes now glimmering faintly in the blood covering his arms. A twist of his fingers caused another rune to fly at Blader, carrying hostile magic within its bounds.

Deflecting the magic with his shield again, Blader began to circle, watching Jorid carefully. Although the anger boiling inside him demanded him to attack now, to kill Jorid now, deep down he knew he couldn't move in quite yet. All of the battles he had fought before had been with a blade – never had he fought magic before. He needed to be careful. He needed to be smart about this.

"You want to fight me," Jorid taunted. "You want your blade to stick into my chest, I know that. You want to see my blood on the ground, you want to see the potential drain unused into the soil. I know this. I know you."

"You don't know me that well," Blader grunted, itching to swing his sword. But he restrained himself, continuing to circle, taking cautious steps, eyes remaining on Jorid. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw several of the others stirring, attempting to rise into a sitting position. He could see Wolfsted's wild black hair and knew the Aldrian was already planning his attack.

Jorid tilted his head, the runes glinting down the length of both his arms. "Really? I knew you would die for Skalfi Vekja. How well does that say I know you?"

Blader shook his head. "It doesn't say anything."

Jorid scoffed. "I think it says plenty, Blader. Oh, by the way, while we're reminiscing...how's Hilda?"

Blader stiffened, a scowl coming over his face. Jorid grinned then, eyes glittering with the same light as emanated from his bloody runes. "Because, you know, all three of us were in the Transriot that day, on Thor's Bridge. She ever remember that explosion?"

He couldn't help it. He attacked.

Jorid still know how to provoke him. He always had. His bloodied fingers caught Blader's sword blade and shoved it away, his other hand blocking the shield slammed at him. The blood sorcery Jorid called on gave him the strength and ability to deflect all of Blader's attacks, despite the blade's edge cutting through his skin.

Blader pressed the attack, but Jorid was wielding a magic he had not been trained to defend against. His defenses were impenetrable and the minor wounds his sword gave him didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, the onrush of blood seemed to strengthen Jorid's magic, adding ominous gleam to the runes on his forearms, and Jorid began to shift onto the offensive.

A sharp pain ignited in Blader's shoulder as a red rune burned into his flesh, hurled at him by Jorid. Another one followed and Blader only narrowly avoided it, seeing the glint of crimson in the air as something burning hot skimmed his upper arm. His shield took the brunt of a third spell, a cascade of energy rippling over the edges but not affecting him.

Stop hesitating. Fight back.

Blader lunged forward, his sword slashing through the air and striking Jorid's next spell. The magic broke apart on impact, waves of energy rolling through the air like a wave. He felt the magic hit him, like a heat wave, slapping up against his skin and needling into his pores. But he forged ahead, lifting his shield before his chest as he swung at his former best friend.

Jorid lifted his arms to block the blow, but the sword slammed into his forearms and knocked the sorcerer backward. He tumbled head over heels, the runes etched in the blood on his arms smeared from contact with the blade. Blader advanced, lowering his sword out to the side as he prepared for another strike.

Jorid flung his arms into the air, as Blader brought his sword up, the force of his magic tearing the weapon from his grip and sending it flying backward. He raised his shield just in time to block a second blast, gritting his teeth against the immense pressure exerted against his shield.

"You thought you could beat me, huh, Thrym?" Jorid shouted gleefully. "Think again!"

He can't keep this up forever, Blader thought desperately. His strength has to abate eventually.

Then he heard a yelp. Almost instantly, the pressure on his shield subsided.

Risking a glance over the top of his shield, Blader saw Nyyri, the rings on her fingers flashing, sending jets of green light at Jorid, who was now occupied with blocking her attacks. Blader glanced around frantically for his sword and saw Wolfsted on his feet, his teeth bared in a canine-like snarl as he started to race forward, heading for the pair dueling with magic.

Jorid was on his feet now, backing toward the gaping hole in Meilikki's wall as Nyyri continued to advance, her face pinched in concentration as magic flew off her fingers. The runes on Jorid's arms gleamed as he deflected her magic, countering it with his own which she also blocked. Faded marks of green and red flashed and died in the air, the only sign of the magic passing between the two.

Wolfsted charged, a howl escaping his throat as he slashed at Jorid, his shield down. At the last moment, the sorcerer bent backward, the blade passing over him, and aimed a blast at the Aldrian, his lips mouthing the spell soundlessly.

A grunt came from Wolfsted as a sickening, sharp crack echoed in the air. Blader raced toward his friend as the Aldrian faltered, his leg giving out as he drew his shield up before him, swiping out recklessly with his sword. The sharp edge connected with Jorid's upper leg before the sorcerer could block it.

With a snarled curse, Jorid jumped away as Wolfsted bared his teeth, struggling to rise as Blader slammed his shield into Jorid, Nyyri's spell catching the sorcerer at the same time. He staggered and fell back, his face a mask of rage, as the other einherjar gained their feet and moved in, forming a circle around Tros' apprentice.

Jorid's eyes flicked around and his anger suddenly dropped, a deranged smile taking its place on his face. "Oh, little einherjar," he said, eyes gleaming madly. "Stand by Asgard, die like Asgard!"

Before Blader could react or yell a warning, Jorid threw his arms out and green fire engulfed him.

The fire raced away from him, a vicious, unnatural wall of flames. Blader crouched, ducking behind his shield as the flames tore past him, the heat burning his lungs, the green fire licking at his skin. The fire spread out in a circle away from Jorid, cutting past the squad and biting into the surrounding buildings, devouring the wood with unnatural speed as the sorcerer vanished.

Screams rose into the air as the ring of fire left the einherjar behind, intent now on the city of Meilikki. Blader lowered his shield, beating at the green flames that bit at the flesh of his lower calf. Vandri's blonde braid had caught fire and Skalfi had attacked it with her dagger, screaming for Vandri to stand still while she sawed through the burning hair. Wolfsted was beating at his injured leg, which stuck out at an awkward angle and now hosted the unnatural fire. Sodull was ordering Yngvild to stand still as she held her burning arm out, her eyes wide with fear and her body rigid, as he took his blade and scraped it down the length of her arm. The sharp steel of the blade quelled the fire in its wake, leaving Yngvild's arm burned but flame-free.

"Use your swords!" Sodull shouted. "The metal kills the fire!"

Almost immediately, the einherjar began to swipe at the fire burning their flesh with their swords, cleaving through the flames and extinguishing it. Blader, however, still had green fire eating at his leg, for his sword was not close to hand.

I don't have time to find it.

Then he remembered. Drawing the dagger from his belt, Blader almost stabbed himself in his hurry to attack the flames with the steel. Scraping the blade down his burning trousers, he felt a shudder go through him as the cold dagger met the scorching tongues of fire. Then a cool sense of relief as the flames flickered and died.

All around the singed einherjar, the hellishly green flames danced, devouring the city of Meilikki. Blader stared at the remains of the buildings closest to them, nothing but charred wood and ash. Meilikki would be lost within minutes.

"No!" Nyyri cried, gazing in horror at the green flames burning all around them. It was the first expression Blader remembered seeing on her face; she had been impassive all day. She made to move forward but Sig, expression stony, caught her arm, holding the alfr back. Nyyri struggled but the Valkyrie wouldn't release her. "Let me go!" the alfr demanded.

"You can't save Meilikki," Sig snapped, not releasing her. "We can't put out the fire, Nyyri. Running into it is futile."

Nyyri yanked her arm out of Sig's grip, glaring at the Valkyrie. Then she extended her arms, fingers splayed, and the rings on all of her fingers began to glow with various shades of green light. "I must tell them," she insisted. "I must let Sampo, Matt, and Deila know to evacuate the city."

Blader glanced toward the opening in the wall, fire framing the gap. Jorid was still out there, close enough for him to catch. They needed to pursue him. "I'm going after Racarl," he said, sheathing his dagger and glancing about for his sword. He noticed it lying on the ground, the blade covered in ashes. Striding over to it, Blader picked it up and looked at the sword, the sword given to him by his father, and silently promised himself never to let it leave his grasp again. "I'll rendezvous with you once I've got him." Or not at all.

"Not without us," Sodull said, stepping over to him. "We're a squad, Thrym. We stick together. I'm not letting you go alone."

"This is unauthorized," Blader told him. "I'm better chasing Racarl alone."

Wolfsted lifted an eyebrow at him. "Did you go snow blind, Thrym? Racarl just stood his own against the whole lot of us. You think you can take him on by yourself? Hell no."

"Kyll, your leg is broken," Blader said flatly, itching to be off. "You can't come. I forbid it."

Wolfsted snorted. "Like a broken leg will stop me." And with a herculean effort, he dragged himself onto his good leg as Vandri offered him her support, looping her arm under his so he could lean on her shoulder.

Nyyri started, turning toward the Aldrian as the glow faded from her multitude of rings. She hurried over to him, falling to her knees as the rings began to glow once more, the ones on her index and middle fingers exuding most of the soft green light. "Hold still," she instructed Wolfsted as she gently touched his broken leg. "This might cause some pain, but it will be minor, I promise."

Wolfsted just pressed his lips together as the light increased. He bared his teeth in discomfort as Nyyri kept her fingers applied to his leg, humming under her breath. Blader turned, making sure all of his einherjar were alive and standing.

Klora, Ohrein, Sig, Raena, Yngvild, Sodull, Skalfi, Wolfsted, Vandri, and Nyyri all looked back at him, burned and battered but with only minor injuries. His squad was bruised but intact.

"We're coming with you," Skalfi told Blader. "This is what we were chosen for, right? To hunt Racarl? Well, then that's what we're going to do."

"We want him as much as you," Yngvild said seriously. "I may not have known you long, Thrym, but you saved our skins back in the Reenactment. I'm not forgetting that; I owe you one."

Klora nodded. "We go with you, Commander."

Raena sighed. "I hate magic."

Ohrein stepped forward bravely. "I'm in."

"You think there's a chance you'll leave without us?" Vandri asked. "Think again, Thrym."

Sig met Blader's eyes. "We should have left five minutes ago."

Blader felt strength fill him. His squad fully supported him. Nyyri rose from beside Wolfsted, the glow fading from her fingers and rings. "The break is mended," she said. "Do be careful, though."

"Aldrians don't know the meaning of that word," Wolfsted claimed with an easy smile. But Blader saw the hardness in his features, lurking in his eyes. He was angry. "So, are we chasing this sorcerer or not?"

/**/

I'm so, so sorry for taking so long with this chapter! The ONC has just been zapping most of my time lately, so finding time to write and edit this was difficult.

So Jorid finally got a chance to throw magic around. What did you think? Of the fight, the fire, and Blader's resolution? Where do you think their chase will lead?

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!

Skylar Wittenborn