Einherjar

2

The rag shepherd dogs sleeping by the doorstep looked up as Blader approached the old, well-built house, slowing to a walk. A head poked up from beside the dogs and Freyja, Blader's youngest sister, cocked her head at him, blinking her blue eyes as she patted the furry brown side of one of the shepherds.

"Blader?" she said, sitting up. Rollo, the dog she had been lying against, picked up his head, looking annoyed that he had been disturbed from his nap. "What are you doing home? Hilda's not even back yet."

Despite everything, he couldn't help smiling at the little girl, her fair blonde hair sticking up every which way and tangled with bits of grass. "I got out early," he lied, his smile starting to slip at the thought of his choice. "A surprise, to be sure."

Freyja seemed to accept that, clambering out of the pile of dogs and grasping Blader's hand. She grinned up at him as he tousled her already wild hair, picking a long piece of grass out of the blonde locks. "So, what are you going to do with your extra time?"

"Well, I'm going to get started on all my chores," Blader said, walking up to the door.

"Mama's inside," Freyja told him. "Papa and Ivan are in the field. Did Hilda get out early?"

"No," Blader said absently, pushing open the door into the Thrym home. Freyja released his hand and scampered into the kitchen as he shut the door behind them. "Mama! Blader's home."

Setting down his screencase and hanging his jacket up, Blader followed Freyja into the kitchen, feeling dread build up within him.

His mother looked up from where she was kneading bread dough, dark her eyes looking so much older than they were. Strands of light blonde hair, so much like her daughter's, had escaped from the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Lines creased her face and she looked weary, as always. Spring was always busy on the Thrym farm, between sowing the seed and the cows giving birth. But there was something more in her face today, something that hadn't been there when Blader and Hilda had left for school that morning, and it was in her eyes, which seemed to have aged ten years since seven in the morning.

She must know what happened.

"Blader," Gunil Thrym said, and her voice sounded tired, disappointed. "I got a call today."

Blader stopped. She already knew. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I really am, Mama." Did Sigrif tell her about my choice?

"Why?" she asked, as Freyja first looked up at Blader and then at their mother in confusion. "I asked you to try. Is it so hard to try?"

"It was different this time," Blader told her, his voice barely audible. "I punched him."

His mother furrowed her brow. "You punched who?"

"Jorid," Blader answered. "Jorid Racarl. He's the one who always gets me in trouble. I knocked him down. That's what did it."

Jorid. Who used to get sympathy from Gunil until he started to get Blader into trouble regularly. "Blader," she said now, her voice rising. "That doesn't make things better! You're still expelled!"

Freyja looked up at Blader, horrified. "Expelled?" She looked over at their mother. "Blader was expelled?"

"I'm sorry," Blader said lamely, not bothering to correct them that he hadn't been expelled yet. That would involve mentioning his choice about enlisting, which wouldn't go over well. He took a deep breath in an effort to keep himself calm. "I didn't mean to be expelled."

"Your brother gave up school so you could get an education!" Gunil cried out, startling both Blader and Freyja. "Ivan works himself to the bone on the farm so you could take his place at school! And this is how you honor your brother's sacrifice?" Pressing her lips together, she regarded her second oldest child with anger and disappointment in her eyes. "Why couldn't you just try?"