by M K Drake
Attossa is silent as she looks to the ground. Her head twitches, her thoughts forcing her to understand these conflicting messages. “Loki wants me to kill you, I have to...”
“You don’t have to do anything that monster says. You fought to be free from Duat, you made it to Horus, that shows you are worthy. From what I have learned, if you make your heart light, make it forgive, then Loki can’t touch you. Come with me, sister.” Safaya reaches out her hand, hoping it will be taken.
Attossa steps forward, and takes Safaya’s hand gently, before embracing her with a hug. “I am also sorry. For so many things.”
Safaya smiles. “Come, let’s go teach Loki a lesson together, shall we?”
Attossa nods, wiping away a tear. “He has a weakness you know, that staff...”
Before Attossa can complete her sentence, the maze opens once more and a beam of green light grabs her, pulling her high above the ceiling.
“No!” screams Safaya as the ceiling closes. “Do not fear, sister. I will find you again!”
The Princess turns angrily, as she notices a soft green glow emanating from the opening beside her.
The God Chronicles:
Hel must be careful. It was hard for me to hold Zeus at bay. He is just like Odin, a lover of war. It has been too long since either have had a fight worthy of them. They would use any excuse to force one.
Something else is afoot, Hel was too gracious, and I can sense that she is up to something else. And if it is what I think it is, everything changes.
I smelt the stench of Fenrir in her cavern; if that beast is also involved, she is planning something more impactful than Ragnarök. I must warn the others of my suspicions, maybe we can prepare. We won’t be able to hide, not from this. Not from the wrath that may be unleashed.
Love is a powerful thing. It has the strength to fell gods and demons, no matter who they are. Even Angels fall. Even I’ve fallen.
My waters fear being boiled from the surface of Earth, they whisper stories that I hear through the oceans. The Kraken is still loose, the Minotaur reborn as well. These are creatures that should never be exposed to humanity, they risk exposing us. By doing so, the fear it would ignite would push humanity to do the thing they do best—find a way to destroy. And from what I’ve seen, their passion to create weapons is their greatest, and they would use this passion to find a way to end us all.
We have slept too long, given the Majjai and the humans too much time. As I contemplate this, a horrid thought clouds me. Perhaps, just perhaps, that old witch Hel is right. Maybe she knows exactly what she is doing. And maybe, just maybe, it could be wise to join her.
Poseidon
Chapter 37
Hammer Blow
Olof grimaces as he stands, using Mjolnir to help him get to his feet. He looks behind him at the rock wall, which now has the perfect representation of his body impression embedded into it.
Olof cricks his neck to regain better movement around his upper torso and shoulders. “Much better,” he mutters as he makes his way forward through the Hexon Maze. The red glow from the heat cracking through the floor and walls gives him some light, so he can at least see what is around him. Unfortunately, the warmth here has a detrimental effect on Olof’s core ice powers, he barely has enough energy at the moment to keep himself cool, let alone mount a defence. This maze has tapped into his weakness, and he is fully aware of it. He grasps Mjolnir tighter, and ensures Megingjord, the great Norse belt of power is fastened tightly. At least he has these to use to aid him.
He has wondered if he has relied too much on these relics in recent times. Apart from the destruction of the Orb of Time, the majority of utilising Mjolnir has been for ease, more than anything else. The belt has given him the strength to hold it, but Olof never found Jarngreipr, Thor’s gloves. It is possible that he will never been able to realise the true power of the hammer without them. But he cannot shake off the feeling that the hammer openly rejects him.
Olof smiles, knowing that Ju Long would probably use the gloves to find a new way to mock him, and thinks perhaps it is best they stay lost for now. His thoughts then turn to Loki, and he ponders how the god has grown so powerful. He suspects his alliance with Razakel must have garnered him some favour with the demon king, and wonders if it was enough to perhaps be gifted with even more abilities. This maze for one, is not something that can be easily constructed—from the brief information Elric provided, it requires centuries of planning to construct, and involves knowing the deepest, darkest secrets of all it is designed to interact with.
“It’s currently doing a fine job with me,” Olof jokes, as he wipes sweat from his brow. He is almost tempted to shave off his heavy, plaited beard right this second to aid his body temperature.
“What’s the matter, boy? Too hot for you?”
Olof turns quickly, unable to pinpoint where the voice is coming from. “Show yourself!”
“Come now, what did my brother say your name was again… ah, yes, Olof. From the Gilmar family. Yes, I do know you.”
“It would be courteous for you to tell me who you are as well, so I may best you if you are foe, or help you if you are a friend!” Olof demands.
“Ha… Best me? At least your confidence is worthy; the rest of you, not so much. You see. Loki, troublesome as he is, wanted to have some fun, so, we created the prophecy of a Nordic Mage who would one day wield my beloved hammer. It was a joke at first, but I wanted to see where he would go with it.”
Olof gasps for air, could it be… “Thor? Son of Odin, is that you?”
“Ha! Now he sees!” Thor exclaims as he steps from the shadows, his robes are light, coloured red, hanging off one shoulder, the red glow from the maze walls flicker off his golden chest armour.
As Thor flexes his arms, Olof sees the items he was just thinking about, the gloves known as Jarngreipr. “So, that is why I never found your gloves, you kept them with you?”
Thor smiles through his thick, imposing facial hair. “Yes, I didn’t want to give up all of my toys for Loki’s fun.”
“Why do you ally yourself with a trickster? What gain do you have?”
“Ha! Oh, Olof, do you have any idea how boring things get for a god that has lived through so many millennia? You, your Majjai friends, you are all just specks in time, blemishes almost. We gods, we are forever,” Thor steps over to Olof. “And you, you are not. Now return my things, or prove yourself worthy to be their custodian by defeating me.”
Olof stands his ground, wondering if this is a trick of the maze, or is this is truly the real Thor. “You are not what I expected.”
“What did you think I would be? A friendly, personable, humble human? I am Thor, son of Odin, the God of War, some of his teachings were bound to be part of me. Now prepare yourself… fight!”
Thor lunges towards Olof, who lifts the hammer to block the attack. He tries to launch a massive ice attack, but is so drained by the heat that he can only muster a spear, which he throws directly towards Thor’s chest.
The Norse god stands still, and laughs as the icy weapon hits him and shatters into pieces. “Is that the best you can do? Do not hold back, Olof. Or does my hammer not mean that much to you?”
Olof does not answer with words, but with all his might. He throws the hammer towards Thor, then sums up all of his remaining strength to fire hundreds of tiny ice bullets towards his opponent.
Thor steps to the side to avoid the ice, and catches the hammer easily, but is distracted enough to not see Olof charge towards him.
The Norse Majjai uses all of his combat skills to punch and kick and throw intermittent ice attacks towards Thor. His attack is unrelenting, continuous, and he fights until he is spent. But the heat is too strong, and eventually Olof collapses to the ground, without the hammer, without his powers of ice, only the belt’s energy keeping him awake. He peers upwards, hoping to see his efforts rewarded, but all he sees is Thor, standing nonchalantly above him, chuckling.
“Oh this was too
wonderful, I must hand it to Loki. This was a good one. You did scratch me, I will give you that, but it seems… without your friends, without your family, you are no match for me, you are not worthy. I shall be taking my hammer back now, but I’ll let you keep the belt, you’ll be needing it.” Thor smiles arrogantly, laughs again, and begins to walk away.
Olof groans, but knows he cannot, must not, give up. Placing his hands on the ground and tapping into the energy of Megingjord with an almighty effort, fills all the cracks in the walls with ice, encasing them thickly and covering the floor with ice as well. He stands, his eyes glowing a bright blue, his energy returning now that the heat is being kept at bay.
“We are not finished here Thor!” he says, knowing he cannot show any fear. And then he feels a slight tingle to his right. Looking down, he spots a white light forming at his side. It spins and liquifies, and in a matter of moments morphs into the shape of a hammer, bigger than Mjolnir.
“Well, what do you know, my own Soul Hammer!” Olof exclaims to himself.
“Use it well…,” the Blade King’s voice echoes through Olof’s ears.
The Majjai smiles wryly at Thor, and throws his new hammer at the god. But this time runs alongside it, jumping into the air and creating a sheet of ice ahead of him to slide along. He then throws another massive barrage of ice bullets, thousands, tens of thousands of them, encasing the Norse deity. When he reaches him, Olof directs his new hammer toward the only exposed part of his opponent’s body: his head.
Thor groans as the impact cuts him.
Olof’s hammer appears to follow his own thoughts, he guides it with his mind, right back to its holster.
“Release me!” Thor commands.
Olof walks over to him slowly, but not with the arrogance that his one-time hero showed him. “I shall release you good sir—and you can keep your hammer.”
Olof commands the ice to fall away. “Now please, I have another quest that requires my time. If you could gratify me with your departure, it would be appreciated.”
“Ha! Olof! You intrigue me. I like you! Maybe we can fight on the same side one day!” Thor says with a laugh, his tone and demeanour completely different from before. “Now look, your new toy is wonderful, but my niece, Loki’s spawn, is up to something. You may need…”
Before Thor can finish his words, a portal opens up beneath him, swallowing him whole before disappearing.
Olof sighs. “Same side? I’d like that very much,” he murmurs.
He dusts himself down and is about to restart his journey through the maze, when he notices a patch of ice which is cracking and falling to the ground, revealing a doorway glowing a deep, pulsating shade of green.
The God Chronicles:
Ha! That was truly glorious! Olof was entertaining. Even Loki was true! I’ve not had this much fun since wrestling with Jörmungandr in the mud pits of Valhalla.
I must tell my wife, Lady Sif of this encounter. It was worthy of a poem that should live through time!
I shall sing Olof’s name loud and proud! But, the hammer, oh, my hammer, how I have missed you! It was the only bit of all this I didn’t like. I mean, falsifying a prophecy was fun in itself, and the dwarves were surprisingly compliant for playing along. Loki must have tipped them well. But being without my weapon of choice for so long was hard. I shall now go and slaughter some Jotun for fun. Maybe hunt down a Graigon or two, maybe twenty at the same time!
Still, I do feel sorry for Olof, he may think he has a hammer now worthy to replace mine, but nothing will ever replace my beloved.
I shall go now, and flex my biceps! I have proven my worth. I am the mighty Thor! And I shall go tickle the belly of Níðhǫggr!
But maybe these things should be done at another time. Something does trouble me. Loki doesn’t often do things to please. He jests yes, but he never jests without a plan. There is reason for his actions.
He fears something, something is coming, he knows it, I sense it. All the better that I have my hammer now.
I caught the fool looking at maps of Muspelheim, there is only one reason he would look there. He hunts the one sword powerful enough to take down gods. The Sword of Surtur. He would need to battle the fire demon himself for it, and not even I am that foolish, not alone. Maybe this is why he has allied himself with demons, and the filth of the Greek gods!
Let us see what happens. This adventure is only just beginning to show fruits worthy of my interference, and if I have to interfere, it shall be magnificent.
Now, what was I doing? Ah yes, Lady Sif, my dear, come see my flexing!
Thor
Chapter 38
The Blood of the Dishonest
Khan’s hands are shaking. The poison is getting stronger, and he knows the only reason he is still alive is the Soul Sword energy revitalising him, but it will not last. He knows Atticus suspects, as does Safaya, but no-one knows just how much pain he is in. Every movement fills his nerves with the sensation of a hundred blades striking him; but he does not have the time to rest now, his friends need him. He is honour-bound to protect Safaya, and he cannot do that from the medical ward. This realm needs him. Atticus needs him.
He looks to his blade, which is now glowing brightly from the energies of being converted to his own Soul Sword, and is saddened that even this power has not helped him.
He steps forward, grimacing as he does so; he struggles forward, propping himself up against the wall, dragging himself along.
“Failure!”
The voice taunts him, he tries to ignore it, thinking it is only the doubting thoughts in his own head.
“You have failed them all, I didn’t even need to come up with a way to beat you here, you have done a wonderful job all by yourself.”
Khan shakes his head, trying to focus. “Who is there?”
“I’m surprised you do not yet know.”
“What do you want?” Khan asks wearily, he is too tired to play games.
“Well, I don’t want you to die just yet. My daughter would be quite upset if that happened.”
Khan squints into the darkness. He is sweating profusely from the poison now. “Loki? That is your voice, I know it!”
“Yes, yes it is, now, sit, let’s have a little chat shall we?” Loki reveals himself and helps Khan to the floor gently, propping his back against the wall. “You are quite important, you are my contingency.”
“What do you mean?” Khan asks, before beginning to cough uncontrollably.
“My daughter is not foolish,” Loki says when the coughing fit has passed. “She plans more meticulously than I, and I know what she is up to now. If you think I am a threat, if you think Razakel is a threat, well… you will think we are all fairies if she gets her way.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You think I am evil, I’m not. I’m merely trying to balance things with knowledge. You see, this Staff of Mages you all seek, I touched it once, I helped design it. It is the conduit to everything that exists, even the Remnant itself! But then, the Angels, the Eternals, the Horsemen, even Odin himself decided it was too powerful for one being to keep hold of it. However, in that one moment of contact, the Staff showed me much of what could be, and what has gone before.” He pauses, his gaze seemingly on some distant point, or perhaps memory.
After a moment, Loki continued. “Then your Kazmagus stole it and gave it to the Blade King. It has been lost ever since. The others didn’t care too much, because they all wanted the device to be hidden, and so it was. But I made a deal with Razakel, one that would grant me full access to the Staff of Mages once it is found, and then… then I can fix everything.”
“Fix everything? Fix everything that you broke you mean?” Khan adjusts his position to make himself more comfortable. He knows deep down he cannot really believe everything this being says, he lies for fun.
“Yes, yes,” Loki says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I had some part in all of this, but, now, for my own survival, I need to change things b
ack. Your Myrddin has made this more difficult with his own meddling of time. I was doing things discretely, manipulating the Bifrost without Odin’s knowledge, travelling not only through space, but time as well.”
“Your daughter wants you dead you know? She sent us to kill you.”
“Ha! Yes, my beloved offspring. She has wanted to kill me so many times, I’ve lost count. Now, here, drink this,” Loki waves his hand and produces a goblet with a strong, pungent-smelling purple liquid. He raises it to Khans lips, pulling his hair back and forcing him to swallow it by holding his nose.
Khan splutters, but is too weak to resist. “What was that?”
“It won’t kill you—nor will it cure you, but we’ll get to that in a bit. No, this will give you a temporary boost, and you will need it, not only to fight me shortly, but for what comes after. And for that, you will require something else,” Loki places a small green orb into a pocket on Khan’s clothing. “Don’t lose it.”
“Why are you doing all of this?” Khan asks, trying to gain any kind of valuable information.
“Just let it be. If I tell you, things will not play out as they should. Now, if you really want to be cured, deep down you know what you need to do. Your truth needs to be outed. Your blood is still dishonest.”
“But…”
“Shh shh shh! No more chit chat, I have to go. I have something quite special planned for your good friend, Atticus! Remember! Truth, don’t lose the orb, and follow the green light!”
“Green light? What green…” Khan turns for a moment to look around him, but when he turns back, Loki is gone. He looks at his hands again, they have finally stopped shaking, so whatever Loki gave him seems to have worked. But why? Why did he help him? Before he can surmise much more, a green light begins to glow behind him, and he remembers what he needs to do next.
The Majjai Journals:
