Einherjar

17

The first thing Blader saw on awakening was a bright blue sky completely devoid of clouds. The first thing he felt was the cold. He felt it in his legs especially. Slowly, he blinked, before trying to move his arms and legs. All of his limbs moved easily and he sat up, glancing around at his surroundings.

Blader was sitting in the middle of a barren ice wasteland. The ice covering the hard ground was cracked into small, uneven plates. Before him, in the distance, was a mountain range, rising high up into the sky. The tops were covered in snow from what he could see. The air around him was chilly, his tunic thick enough to provide enough warmth for now, but he'd hate to see how much the temperature would drop once that sun set. He stood up, shading his eyes as he gazed at the mountain. The sun was shining down, striking the ice and bouncing up, trying to blind him.

No water. There will probably be water in the mountains. I should head there. Blader twisted, studying the rest of his surroundings. There was nothing else in the barren wasteland in any of the other directions, just ice stretching out to the horizon. The mountains it is, then.

Blader started walking towards the far mountain range, hoping to reach it by nightfall, at the latest. He did not want to be stranded out here once the sun went down. The edges of the ice cracked under his boots as he walked, his shield and sword feeling normal against his back by this time, after all his training. He was used to their weight; it was actually comforting.

As he walked, Blader tried to figure out where he had landed. The ice and the mountains reminded him of everything he'd learned about Jotunheim. This didn't seem like the icy cold hell Niflheim was reputed to be, so he was going to go with Jotunheim as his guess.

Jotunheim...Jotunheim...the home of the jotuns and extreme weather, the place of Loki's origin. Jotunheim. Jotuns live here. I do not want to run into them.

The weak sun was high overhead, shining down on Blader's shoulders. Although he couldn't feel the heat, the light continued to reflect off of the cracked ice and strike his eyes. Keeping his eyes narrowed, he fixed his eyes on the mountains before him, his ultimate goal.

Blader didn't know how long he'd been walking when he noticed figures in the distance. Stopping, he shaded his eyes and peered at the approaching small group, wondering who they were. Other einherjar, perhaps? Or were they some kind of rekkr?

He swung his weapons down from his back, slipping his shield onto his arm and holding his sword defensively as he watched the figures, weighing his options. Should he continue on to the mountains, or should he wait to see who the figures were?

Blader thought for a moment. If they were einherjar, he could possibly ally with them. One of his friends could be a part of that group of figures. But they could also be jotuns, in which case Blader didn't want anything to do with them. So after another moment of hesitation, he started heading towards the mountains again, quickening his pace.

The group continued towards him, although they were still at a distance. He couldn't tell how many there were. Blader broke into a jog, breathing out thanks for all the hard runs he had been put through over the last two months. Even with the cold air scraping down his throat, he was able to easily maintain his faster pace as he watched the mountains slowly grow larger before him.

With his jogging, Blader was able to keep a good distance between himself and the approaching figures. But as he kept glancing ahead to the mountains, he noticed that something was lying on the ice before him, disrupting the barren wasteland.

As he kept moving closer, the object eventually became clearer, although Blader still could not tell what it was. It was long and low, a dark color compared to the ice it lay upon. But it was only when he was nearly upon the object that he realized what it was.