Runelight

by Joanne Harris

  He blinked against the harsh light – the sun had finally risen above the mist that spilled from World Below, and its dazzle on the fallen snow was enough to blind him briefly.

  He tried to recall what had happened.

  For a moment he couldn’t remember anything. Then it began to come back: Maddy, the dreamcloud, Jormungand – and the image burned onto his retinas of a glam he’d never seen before –

  He would have liked to give all this more thought. But the present situation, he knew, demanded his full attention. Once more, cautious, he opened his eyes. At first there was too much light for him to see anything; and then things started to swim into place: the mist, the snow, the brilliant sky, a pair of luminous golden eyes peering at him from under a tangle of raven-black hair.

  Loki blinked at the golden eyes, trying to read their expression.

  Crawk, said Mandy.

  ‘Ach, you’re awake,’ said Hughie, stepping into view.

  ‘What happened?’ said Loki, trying in vain to get free of the hand that was fastened in his hair.

  ‘We thought maybe ye’d like tae tell us that,’ said Hughie with a cheery grin. ‘We found ye, passed out, by Red Horse Hill, surrounded by broken bits of glam.’

  ‘Maddy,’ said Loki. ‘She caught me off-guard. And she has the World Serpent with her.’

  Crawk, said Mandy.

  Hughie grinned. ‘Did she mention where she was heading at all?’

  ‘She mentioned World’s End.’

  ‘World’s End? Are you sure?’ This new voice came from behind him. The hand seemed to clench more painfully. ‘If you’re lying, Dogstar …’

  The Trickster stiffened. He knew that voice. He finally managed to free himself and turned to face its owner, and felt all the strength go out of his legs as he found himself looking at a familiar pair of ice-blue eyes and a smile like a cut-throat razor.

  ‘Oh, crap …’ Loki said.

  ‘Hello again,’ said Skadi.

  MEANWHILE, ON DREAM’S thoroughfare, Maddy had decided that any other form of travel had to be preferable to this. Certainly it was the fastest way; but moving down through Dream at a speed she had once thought unimaginable, clutching at the Serpent’s mane with hands that had lost all sensation, trying not to look at the things that lurched and clawed and snatched at her as she and Jorgi hurtled down the sickening series of whirlpools and falls that made up the boundaries between the Worlds, Maddy began to realize that her jaunt through the Black Fortress of Netherworld had been nothing compared to this.

  There were pockets of ephemera like deadly bursts of fireworks; there were clouds of flesh-eating parasites and rains of knives and geysers of flame. And then there were the dead, of course: a slew of cold and hungry jetsam, bodiless fingers clutching at her, whispering voices pleading to her.

  Help us, Maddy. Help us live …

  It lasted only minutes, although when she emerged from Dream, Maddy felt as if she had been travelling for half her life. She opened her eyes into darkness; and for a moment almost believed that this had all been a real dream, and that she was still in her bed at home, and that none of this had happened.

  But there were no bedclothes around her, and the place had a resonant sound – and a serpent-stench that Maddy knew only too well. No. This was no dream. This, she thought, must be World’s End.

  She cast the rune Sól, and found herself in some kind of underground storeroom, the roof of which had partially collapsed under the weight of Jormungand, who had come to rest on the floor above with his head lolling happily in World’s End and the rest of him hidden in World Below.

  ‘I told you to look inconspicuous,’ Maddy hissed reproachfully, and was surprised to see the Serpent’s head begin to change its Aspect, becoming a large and shaggy black horse with a tail so long that it brushed the floor. It wasn’t an especially handsome beast, and its breath did smell suspiciously carnivorous, but it would do, Maddy thought – at least until she had found Maggie.

  She patted the black horse cautiously. ‘That’s much better, thank you,’ she said. ‘Now. Let’s see where you’ve brought me.’

  ‘YOU LOOK SURPRISED,’ the Huntress said.

  ‘Well, I’m not exactly at my best,’ said Loki, rubbing his sore head. ‘Besides, I was under the impression that you’d gone back to your people.’

  ‘I did, at first,’ said Skadi, fingering her runewhip. ‘That is, until the rumours began. Rumours of mischief under the Hill. And a Rider whose name is Treachery.’

  ‘And so you assumed I was to blame. Well, have I got news for you, folks—’

  ‘Shut up, Dogstar,’ Skadi said. ‘You’re not here to argue your innocence. If I had my way right now, you’d be chained to a rock in Netherworld with poisonous snakes for company. That could still happen if you mess me around.’

  Loki gave her a cautious look. ‘I’ll try not to mess you around,’ he said. ‘So – where am I, and what do you want?’

  Skadi gave him a cold look. ‘You’re near the Seven Sleepers,’ she said. ‘There’s a cave about a hundred yards back that leads into the mountainside. It’s dry enough, and there’s water nearby. I think you’ll be fairly comfortable. Of course, you’ll have to stay hidden,’ she went on. ‘Otherwise they’ll track you down. And given the feeling towards you right now, I wouldn’t rate your chances. A Rider whose name is Treachery – who else could it be but the Trickster?’

  Loki nodded. ‘OK,’ he said. His mind was working furiously. Could the Huntress be trying to help? It seemed improbable, somehow. And why were Odin’s ravens with her? Had the General really survived? Or was this the prelude to something else – some form of interrogation?

  Almost imperceptibly, Loki started to reach for his glam.

  Crawk, said Mandy accusingly.

  Skadi raised her runewhip. Its coils slithered across the snow like cables of electricity. ‘I’m warning you,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘It’s bad enough having to save your life, but try that again and it’s going to hurt.’

  ‘OK.’ Loki spread his hands.

  ‘Verra wise,’ Hughie said. ‘Mandy doesn’t talk a lot, but she can see across Nine Worlds.’

  ‘See this …?’ Loki made an obscene hand gesture. Then he turned back to the Huntress. ‘So – forgive my mistrustful nature, but … why would you want to save my life? It’s not like we’re the best of friends.’

  ‘You got that right,’ said Skadi. ‘But Balder wanted you to live, and I guess he had his reasons. As for the General, wherever he is—’

  Mandy crawk-ed.

  Skadi paused. Beside her, Odin’s Spirit and Mind levelled twin pairs of golden eyes at the renegade Trickster.

  ‘Oh,’ said Loki. ‘It’s like that, is it?’ His scarred lips twitched appreciatively. ‘Listen, if Odin’s alive somewhere, if that’s why you’re protecting me, then why not bring me in on it? I can totally see why you might not want the Vanir to know – but I’m his brother, for gods’ sakes, and if he’s planning to make a deal—’

  ‘What kind of a deal?’

  Loki shrugged. ‘Damned if I know. But someone’s pulling strings all right. The Red Horse is loose, the Black Horse is free – now all we need is the Horse of Air, and it’s all aboard the Faërie bus for Ragnarók!’

  Skadi gave him a scornful look. ‘Got it all worked out, haven’t you?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t difficult.’ Loki grinned. ‘Maybe the General survived. Maybe he wants to take charge. But the balance of power has changed in three years: Heimdall’s made an alliance with Chaos, and suddenly Odin isn’t sure how many real friends he has left. So he does a bit of recruiting by stealth. It doesn’t take much to get Maddy on side. But as for Yours Truly – I understand. We’ve had our differences in the past. But you can tell him, Skadi – I’ve changed. I’m on the side of Order now.’

  Skadi’s eyes gleamed ice-blue. ‘Well, maybe that’s the problem,’ she said. ‘Changing sides is your speciality. So what we’re going to do is this. We�
��re putting someone in charge of you. Someone to keep you on the right track. Someone to make sure you don’t change sides.’

  That sounded ominous, Loki thought. ‘You don’t think I’d rat on the General?’

  ‘You did before, at Ragnarók.’

  Loki shrugged. He could have explained the reasons for his defection. He’d spent the months before Ragnarók chained to a boulder in World Below, friendless and abandoned, with a snake dripping venom into his face (courtesy of Skadi, of course). Only his faithful wife, Sigyn, had stayed, collecting the poison droplets – and to be honest, Loki thought, the snake had been better company. There was something about total loyalty, uncritical devotion, endless patience, perpetual forgiveness and the general inability to believe that a loved one could ever do anything wrong that, frankly, just gave him the creeps.

  A horrible thought occurred to him. ‘Please. You don’t have to lock me up. I’m not the second Rider. I swear. I mean – would I ride a giant snake?’

  Skadi gave him a chilly smile. ‘Begetter of Serpents? Father of Lies?’

  ‘That hurt my feelings,’ Loki said.

  ‘Well, count yourself lucky that’s all that got hurt. And she won’t be your gaoler or anything. Think of her more as a guardian. A friend. Someone to watch over you …’

  ‘She?’ said Loki.

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  Loki went pale. ‘Oh no. She died …’

  Skadi smiled. ‘You opened Hel. You let a whole bunch of dead people loose.’

  ‘But the odds of getting anyone out …’

  ‘I guess you must just be lucky,’ she said.

  And now the Huntress stepped aside to make way for a newcomer, and all the remaining colour fled from Loki’s signature and from his face.

  To a casual observer it might have been hard to determine why; for the short, round-faced woman who approached looked as inoffensive as one of the Folk. Her hair was brown and sensibly tied back; her dress was plain and practical. Her eyes were her best feature, being large and blue and soulful, and were at present fixed adoringly on the Trickster.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to say anything?’

  Loki stared at his ex-wife. His late ex-wife, he amended. His late, unlamented ex-wife – tenacious as a bloodhound; stubborn as a sunstruck mule; jealous as a housecat; crazy as a box of frogs.

  He’d thought that seeing Angie again had been a stroke of ill-luck. But to be reunited with two ex-partners in the same week – not to mention Fenny and Jormungand – felt like persecution.

  He closed his eyes. ‘Gods, this is Hel.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said – I said … hello, Sig.’

  Sigyn responded with a squeal and flung herself at Loki. ‘I knew you’d be happy to see me!’ she said. ‘I’ve missed you so much – oh, sweetheart. Have you missed me? I know you have – and now we can be together again!’

  Loki was trying as best he could to fend off the barrage of kisses. ‘Great. Yeah. Thanks, Sig.’

  She hadn’t changed at all, he thought, half smothered in her scented embrace. Still as needy; still as sweet; still mad as a fish beneath that smile – and what was that mark on the back of her hand? It looked like a runemark, Loki thought, though Sigyn had never had one before –

  ‘Where did you get that?’ he said. ‘And what in Hel’s name is it?’

  ‘Hel’s name is right,’ Skadi said. ‘We’ve called it Eh, the Wedlock. Another rune of the New Script.’

  But now Sigyn released her embrace and peered at Loki critically. ‘You look awful,’ she remarked. ‘Hasn’t that nasty Angie person been looking after you at all? Hasn’t she been feeding you?’

  ‘Sigyn, I’m fine,’ Loki said.

  Sigyn eyed him narrowly. ‘So. She’s still around, then? You’ve seen her?’

  ‘Well …’ said Loki.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Really. I know. I bet you’ve been seeing her all this time. You have been seeing her, haven’t you? After everything I’ve done for you. You lying, cheating little rat!’ And she dealt the Trickster a ringing slap.

  ‘But you were dead—’ he protested.

  Sigyn slapped him again. ‘I see. That’s your excuse, is it?’ she said. ‘Just because I was dead, you thought you’d hook up with that floozy again!’

  Skadi hid a little smile. ‘Men are so easily seduced. You have to watch them all the time.’

  ‘Oh, I plan to,’ Sigyn said, and, raising her hand, she fingered a sign that gilded the air with runelight. At the same time something appeared around Loki’s left wrist; something that looked like a fine gold chain.

  ‘What’s that?’ said the Trickster.

  Sigyn spoke a cantrip – Eh byth for eorlum – and a similar glam appeared around her own right wrist, linking them together.

  Loki said: ‘Please, don’t do this.’

  Skadi shrugged. ‘It’s for your own good. Or would you prefer that rock in Netherworld?’

  Sigyn’s blue eyes lit up at that. ‘Do you know, that might be safer …’ she said. ‘I’d be only too happy to stay with him there. I’d bring him his meals, and sing to him, and hold a basin over his face so the horrid snake couldn’t hurt him—’

  ‘What snake?’ said Loki.

  ‘Well, there’d have to be a snake, dear,’ said Sigyn in a reasonable voice. ‘You know, just like the old days. Just you and me – and the snake, of course …’

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ said Skadi, interrupting her. Between them, Eh, the Wedlock, gleamed and crackled with runelight. ‘Loki, don’t try to escape,’ she said. ‘Sigyn – just take care of him.’

  Sigyn gave a radiant smile. ‘Oh, I will. I promise,’ she said. ‘I’ll take such good care of him.’ She turned to Loki. ‘Are you hungry, sweetheart? I’ve got tea and cake in the cave.’

  ‘Tea? Cake?’ Loki said.

  Kindly, Sigyn patted his hand. ‘What? Did you think I was going to starve you to death? And then we can have a lovely talk. Now that I have you all to myself—’

  ‘No – wait!’ Loki said, seeing the Huntress turn away.

  But Skadi just ignored him, resuming her favourite Aspect. In the form of a white snow wolf she padded away across the snow, while above her, Odin’s Spirit and Mind took off into the sparkling air.

  Tight-lipped, Loki watched them go. He’d been a prisoner many times – in dungeons, in Netherworld, under the Hill, in the lair of the Tunnel Folk, in the caves of the Ice People – but never before had he felt his imprisonment so keenly. The golden chain around his wrist was gossamer-thin but unbreakable, restricting his movements, though otherwise deceptively easy to overlook – except for the presence of Sigyn, the embodiment of constancy, never more than a few feet away, her eyes fixed adoringly on him.

  Loki shivered. This was bad – worse even than Netherworld. At least in the Black Fortress he’d been able to scream. Here, he couldn’t even do that. Instead he had to be nice, drink tea, make small-talk with his late ex-wife. Around his wrist, the Wedlock gleamed and glimmered pitilessly, binding the Trickster to his fate once more until the End of the Worlds; shackled with the bonds of love.

  ‘IN THE BEGINNING there was the Word. And the Word created Nine Worlds, from Firmament to World Beyond. And the Nameless ruled over everything, keeping Order and Chaos in place, enforcing the Laws of the Universe.

  ‘Now in those days the Firefolk were always at war with the Ice Folk, and they wanted to possess the Word, to defeat their enemies for good. So they sent one of their people to bargain with the Nameless. This was Odin, son of Bór, and he spoke of building a citadel to protect the Worlds from Chaos. But the Nameless did not trust him, and wanted proof of his good faith. So Odin offered a sacrifice – one of his eyes in exchange for the Word, and a promise to keep Order. The Nameless agreed, and the Firefolk built the Bridge that spanned the Worlds and started to build their citadel.’

  Now that Sleipnir had been relocated (not without some difficulty) to th
e stables, Adam felt much more comfortable. A bribe to the domestic staff meant that Maggie’s occasional eruptions of glam could easily be overlooked; but the sudden appearance of a horse in a luxury penthouse suite above Examiners’ Walk would certainly have attracted the wrong sort of attention.

  Now, at last, Adam told his tale, while Maggie listened keenly. It was a story that she knew well, having read many different versions of it. Still she listened eagerly.

  ‘How could they build such a thing?’ she said, when Adam paused to take a breath. ‘I mean, it was up in the sky, wasn’t it? How did they get it to stay up there?’

  ‘It’s complicated,’ Adam said. (In fact, he had no idea himself.)

  Maggie looked expectant. ‘Well?’

  Inside Adam’s mind, his passenger sighed. Nothing comes out of nothing, it said, and Adam echoed obediently: ‘What do you do when you’re building a house? The first thing is to cut down trees. Creation works through destruction. Well – the Word behaves in the same way. It breaks down the blocks of creation and shapes them to its purpose. Dream becomes reality. Reality helps fashion Dream. That’s why the Word is so dangerous. That’s where the Nameless made its mistake.’

  Maggie stared at Adam, wide-eyed. Nowhere in the Good Book had she ever seen a reference to the Nameless making a mistake – or even a suggestion that such a thing was possible. It sounded almost like blasphemy. But by now she trusted Adam rather more than she did the Good Book, and her eyes simply opened wider.

  ‘A mistake?’ she said.

  ‘Oh yes.’ Adam smiled. ‘Even the Nameless makes mistakes. But Odin was a plausible rogue, and he seemed to be on the side of Order. It was only much later that it became clear that Odin had allies on both sides – including a traitor from Chaos itself, brought in for his gift of trickery – and the Nameless began to regret its trust, and to be wary of the Firefolk. And so it laid a trap for them, hoping thereby to clip their wings and reclaim some of its power.