Runelight

by Joanne Harris

  ‘Loki, you look terrible,’ said Idun, who alone of all the gods (except for Sigyn, who didn’t count) still had faith in the Trickster. ‘Shall I get you some apple?’

  But Captain Chaos had jumped from the stage, looking more vibrant than ever. His eyes were like stars, his teeth were like quartz and his sparkly coat was dazzling. Never before had Loki seen someone who looked so completely alive – and in spite of the encroaching mist, his signature was a rainbow arc broader than a highway.

  ‘Time to pay up, folks,’ he said. ‘It was a good fight, but a deal’s a deal.’

  Loki tried to stand up, and failed. ‘What did you do to me?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Captain Chaos.

  ‘You’re lying,’ said the Trickster. ‘There’s something behind that curtain. A glam – I thought I saw it before, but I couldn’t make out what it was. You tricked us, somehow. Gods – dammit, my head!’ A spike of pain jabbed his temple; once more his vision swam sickly.

  ‘If I were you,’ said Captain Chaos, ‘I’d quit while I was still moving.’ He turned to the gods. ‘Time to pay up.’

  ‘What with?’ said Thor. ‘You’ve cleaned us out.’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Captain Chaos.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Loki, who already knew the answer.

  Captain Chaos smiled at him. ‘I think you know that, Trickster,’ he said. ‘I own you now, body and soul. Pay up and your friends can be on their way. I won’t try to keep them. But if you try to renege on our deal, I’ll keep you all. You know I can.’

  And now at last, through the haze in his mind, Loki realized the truth. He turned to his companions, but knew that it was useless. Everyone who had taken the stage was in the same position as he: listless, drained of their glam, signature down to a low flame. No chance of shifting Aspects now, or trying to make a run for it; even just walking away at this point might prove too much in their weakened state.

  Only Idun was untouched – Idun, who had not joined the game – and Loki now grabbed onto her arm like a drowning man to a flung rope.

  ‘Please,’ he whispered. ‘Help me stand …’

  It was the first time that Idun could remember the Trickster ever asking for help. He must be really sick, she thought; and her gentle heart swelled with compassion as she hauled him to his feet. Loki swayed, but stayed upright, and turned to face the Captain, whose arm now bore the runemark Kaen, unreversed and unbroken.

  ‘It’s a mirror, isn’t it? No wonder Thor couldn’t beat it. He was fighting his own reflection – in Aspect, with Mjølnir. And Freyja – that was her own Aspect she saw, another version of herself. That’s why we can never match you. That’s why you were able to steal our glam—’

  ‘Steal?’ said Captain Chaos. ‘You gave it of your own accord. We had a bet, remember?’ His grin broadened. ‘Whatever you did, you did to yourselves. Haven’t you ever seen a bird knock out its brains against its own reflection in a window pane?’

  ‘What is it?’ said Loki. Now that he’d stopped struggling, his strength was slowly returning. Not enough to use glam, but at least enough to see straight. ‘What is it? Or should I say what are you?’

  Once more Captain Chaos grinned. ‘Well, today I’m you,’ he said. ‘Or at least a version of you. Tomorrow, who knows what I’ll be? I have to say, I haven’t enjoyed a game as much since the End of the Worlds. A travelling circus? That’s genius. I take it that was your idea?’

  ‘I asked what you were,’ said Loki. ‘Come on. You know I’m helpless. You’ve taken everything I had. At least give me this. What are you?’

  Captain Chaos looked at him. ‘My name was Svalinn,’ he said at last. ‘Remember Svalinn, the Sun Shield? I rode the skies with Sól, the sun. I reflected her light all over the Worlds. Now I’m stuck in Northlands, Nowhere, in the foundations of a bridge. Yes, that’s where they put me,’ the Captain said, when Loki showed his surprise. ‘They found me, after Ragnarók, when I’d fallen from the sky. They saw my runes and knew I had glam. And so they built me into this bridge, and—’

  ‘And you’ve been here ever since. Like a spider in its web. And all these people under the bridge’ – Loki indicated the crowd at his back – ‘they’re not quite regular folk, are they? They’re all the folk you’ve collected over the last five hundred years. All of them just reflections, shadows through a dark glass …’ His scarred lips twisted. ‘Well, congratulations,’ he said. ‘You got me good. What happens now?’

  The Captain gave his evil grin. My grin, Loki amended somewhat bitterly to himself. Everything about him – the tricks, the talk, the treachery – was taken straight from me. And now …

  ‘Now, of course, you can’t let me go. That’s it, isn’t it?’

  It all looked horribly clear to him. The way in which they’d been drawn in: the trail of breadcrumbs they’d followed there; the fog that had concealed the trap; the glee with which the ancient being had assumed Loki’s features, his manner, his style.

  For a moment uncertainty crossed the Trickster’s features. How had they fallen into the trap? He understood how the Sun Shield might have stolen glam from the Seer-folk as soon as they entered its domain, but how had it known they were coming? Who had alerted it to their approach? And how had it managed to hide itself?

  The Captain’s fire-green eyes shone. ‘I knew you’d figure it out,’ he said. ‘The thing is, I don’t want to let you go. Those others, maybe, but not you. You’re the best fun I’ve had in five hundred years. And I don’t want to have to go back to reflecting ordinary market-day crowds, or barges on the river. Besides, a deal’s a deal,’ he said. ‘You played, you lost. I own you.’

  Loki shot a desperate glance at the faces surrounding him. All were impassive, save Idun’s, which was dewy with distress.

  ‘You can’t be serious,’ he said. ‘Besides, if you can keep the memory of what the Shield reflects, then why do you need the original?’

  ‘Because it doesn’t last,’ said the Captain. ‘I operate on borrowed glam. When it runs out, the image fades. I can’t live on shadows for ever.’

  Once more Loki glanced at his friends. He could see where this was heading. The audience had long since dispersed and returned to their entertainments – to the jugglers and fire-eaters and pastry vendors that crowded the riverside; now only Captain Chaos remained, facing the gods with a mocking smile. It would be too much, Loki thought, to assume that the gods would fight for him.

  What had the Captain compared it to? A bird knocking out its brains against its own reflection?

  ‘Ah, come on,’ he said softly.

  Freyja gave a contemptuous shrug. ‘You brought this on yourself,’ she said. ‘Don’t expect support from us.’

  Sif bared her tusks. ‘If you think we’re all going to risk our lives to pay for your gambling habit …’

  Idun’s forget-me-not eyes were wet. ‘What are you going to do to him?’ she said to Captain Chaos.

  The Captain grinned. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to hurt Loki. I mean, I am Loki in so many ways. Together, we could be fabulous.’

  Loki thought about that for a moment, and realized that it was almost true.

  ‘You’d be safe with me,’ the Captain said. ‘No one could touch you any more. Æsir, Vanir – not even Lord Surt could get to you. The End of the Worlds could come and go, but you’d be safe as houses.’

  ‘Really?’ said Loki, sitting down.

  ‘Sure,’ said Captain Chaos. ‘I survived Ragnarók, didn’t I? I can withstand the heat of the Sun. And if you get me out of here, then both of us can be free again. Except that you’d be invincible. Which I don’t suppose you’d mind.’

  Loki grinned. ‘No, I don’t think I would.’ At last he was starting to understand what Captain Chaos wanted of him. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d encountered an artefact of the Elder Age that had gone rogue. He knew how dangerous that could be – how dangerous, and how useful. The idea of owning the Sun Shield – of p
ossessing, rather than being possessed – was suddenly very attractive. If he could remove it from the bridge and bind it into his service, then all his worries would be in the past.

  Of course, that might not be easy. The Captain’s thoughts mirrored his own. It was more than likely that, while he was contemplating deceit, his image was doing the same thing. Still …

  I can beat him, Loki thought. Maybe not in glam, but in guile …

  Idun was still looking concerned. She gave Captain Chaos a doubtful look. ‘I don’t think you should trust him,’ she said. ‘I think he’s trying to trick you.’

  Loki smiled. ‘Not so fast. Let’s explore what’s on offer.’

  Behind her, the gods were recovering enough to take an interest. Heimdall was looking suspicious again; Skadi’s long white teeth were bared.

  ‘Typical Trickster,’ Freyja said. ‘The rat, deserting the sinking ship.’

  ‘You’d better not run out on us,’ said Angie in a low voice.

  ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ grunted Sif. ‘It’s what the weasel always does.’

  Loki glanced over his shoulder. ‘You’d have to get rid of them first,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you sharing power with them.’

  Captain Chaos raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re sure your friends would leave you behind?’

  Loki raised his voice a little, just so the gods could hear him. ‘They’re no friends of mine,’ he said. ‘You heard what they said a moment ago. You can’t believe what they’ve put me through. Threats, torture, snakes, marriage – you name it, they’ve done it. Twice, in some cases. Get them out of here, let them go, and then we can talk business.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ the Captain said. ‘The deal is, I own you. If I let your friends stay, then maybe one day they’ll pay back your debt. Otherwise you’re mine for good.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ said Loki. ‘Come on – what are the others to you? I want them gone, shadows and all. They cramp my style. Send them away—’ He broke off, lowered his eyes and said: ‘I mean – send them away, Master.’

  For a moment the Captain seemed uncertain. His eyes flicked from Loki to the gods, then back to Loki once again. Then he nodded. ‘Fair enough. But remember, I know you, Trickster. If you’re thinking of pulling a fast one …’

  ‘Why would I?’ Loki said. ‘Think of what you’re offering. I’d be crazy to turn it down. Besides, you heard what they think of me. They think I’m a weasel, a turncoat. A rat leaving a sinking ship.’ Once more the Trickster lowered his eyes, not so much out of submission as out of the need to hide a grin. ‘Perhaps they’re right to think so,’ he said. ‘I’ve never shown loyalty to anyone. Never done anything except for myself. Perhaps I deserve to be cast aside. No one’s ever loved me. I only hope’ – he gave a sniff – ‘that they can sometimes think of me with something like affection. Perhaps when I’m gone, they’ll remember what fun they had with Loki around, and say to themselves: He wasn’t so bad – a little wild, perhaps, but—’

  Jolly gave an explosive snort.

  Idun burst into noisy tears.

  The Captain looked at them thoughtfully, then addressed the Trickster. ‘I guess you’re right,’ he said at last. ‘Folks, you heard. You’re free to go.’

  For a moment the gods were bewildered, unsure what to do. Idun wept steadily. Freyja looked abashed. Sugar blew his nose hard and tried to pretend it was an allergy. Thor frowned at Loki. The dreadful suspicion that the Trickster might actually have done something noble began very slowly to enter his mind.

  He growled: ‘I can’t let you do this.’

  Loki gave an inward curse and waved his arms at the Thunderer. ‘Go on! Get lost!’ he cried. ‘Forget I was ever here, all right?’ He turned to Idun. ‘Get them out. Give them some apple – whatever it takes – and get the Hel out of Rhydian.’

  ‘But – what about you?’ said Idun, wide-eyed.

  ‘Forget me. I know what I’m doing.’

  Now, as Idun and the weakened gods fled from the stage and its glamours, Loki looked up at his double and summoned his most ingenuous smile.

  ‘So. Tell me where it is,’ he said.

  The Captain’s eyes narrowed. ‘The Sun Shield?’

  ‘Well, if I’m going to free us both, I’ll need to know where you keep it.’

  The Captain gave a crooked smile. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But there’s one little thing …’ And he pushed back his shirt-cuff to reveal a golden acorn on a chain around his right wrist – the mirror-image of the one Loki had been wearing for the past five days. ‘What’s this?’

  Loki winced. He’d been hoping to keep that secret – at least for a little longer.

  ‘It’s … a lucky charm,’ he said.

  ‘Take it off,’ said the Captain.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just take it off,’ he said. ‘There’s something about it that bothers me.’

  Privately the Trickster agreed; but something told him that in this case his ball-and-chain might be useful. ‘It has … sentimental value,’ he said. ‘I’d rather not remove it.’

  ‘Really,’ said Captain Chaos. ‘You don’t seem the type.’ And, summoning the rune Kaen – now glowing, unreversed, on his arm – he levelled it at the Trickster. A ball of lurid violet light took shape around his clenched fist, hissing like a handful of snakes. ‘I know it’s a kind of glam,’ he said. ‘I can feel it on me. So don’t try anything stupid – right?’ He thrust the fistful of purple fire almost into Loki’s face. ‘A mirror has a thousand eyes. I won’t suffer if you’re blind.’

  Loki’s mouth went very dry. ‘All right, all right, it’s a glam,’ he said. ‘The gods put it on me five days ago. It’s some kind of bindrune, that’s all I know. I’ve tried to get it off, but I can’t. They had me chained to the wagon.’

  The Captain raised an eyebrow. ‘So you’re a prisoner too?’ he said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Loki. ‘Being led around like a dog on a chain – it was hardly my proudest moment. Forgive me for not wanting everyone in the Nine Worlds to have a good laugh at my expense.’

  Close enough to the truth, he thought, for his captor to be deceived. Or so he hoped – that fireball could do a lot of damage. For a moment the Captain scrutinized him through Bjarkán. Then he seemed to relax again.

  ‘All right, I believe you,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we can deal with that later. For now, we have a job to do.’ And, still holding the fireball, he began to explain his plan to Loki, while above them, on the Rhydian Bridge, Lucky’s Pocket Pan-daemonium Circus set off again at a rattling pace, and Odin’s Mind and Spirit watched from underneath the Rhydian Bridge, black wings furled against the dark, beady eyes unblinking.

  ETHEL HAD NOT been at all pleased to discover that Loki had been left behind. ‘You left him there? How could you?’ she said, when Heimdall explained the state of affairs.

  Heimdall looked sullen. ‘We had no choice. Besides, that’s what he wanted.’

  Ethel tutted. ‘Since when did that matter? We need him!’

  But Ethel was in a minority. Most of the others were inclined to consider their loss a blessing. Sif was openly gleeful, while Freyja, dabbing her eyes with a very small lace handkerchief, tried to pretend (unsuccessfully) that she wasn’t utterly overjoyed at having abandoned the Trickster.

  Thor looked guilty at having run; Bragi sang a mournful song; Fenny said, ‘That’s harsh, dude’; and Skadi was contemptuous, telling the Æsir she’d known all along that Dogstar would make a run for it and heaping scorn on Idun, who still seemed absurdly hopeful that Loki would soon catch up with them, maybe on the other side …

  ‘In any case,’ Heimdall said, ‘why do we need him any more? I know you’re fond of him, Ethel, but face it, he’s a liability. We don’t need him to reach World’s End—’

  ‘That isn’t the point,’ said Ethel. Her features, usually serene, now looked drawn and anxious. ‘I won’t go on without him. I’ll wait alone, if I have to.’

/>   ‘What if he doesn’t turn up?’

  ‘He will.’

  ‘Is that a prophecy?’ Heimdall said.

  Ethel gave him a sharp look. ‘What do you mean?’

  Heimdall shrugged. ‘You seem to know more than I do, that’s all.’

  ‘Prophecies are dangerous things,’ said Ethel, looking weary. ‘They start out meaning one thing, and end up meaning the opposite. Loki was meant to be here. At least, that’s what I thought …’

  By now they were halfway across the bridge, leaving Rhydian behind. The moon was high, the stars were bright, and the opposite bank of the river was clear, while at their back, on the Rhydian side, the pale mist hung like a floating wall, silent and oppressive. Everyone felt their spirits lift as they left the city of ghosts behind, and even Heimdall shivered at the thought that, but for Loki, they might all have remained there, drowned in shadow, weakened and lost, pale reflections of themselves …

  Heimdall swore under his breath. He hated the thought of being in any way beholden to the Trickster. And yet, according to his personal code, he was. Even if, as Skadi maintained, Loki had acted out of sheer self-interest, the fact remained: he had saved them all.

  The gods had reached the final pair of pylons when they felt a tremor from under the bridge. It was a brief but violent jolt that rocked the entire structure, jostling the wagons and making the horses prance nervously.

  ‘What in Hel was that?’ said Frey.

  Behind them, the mist was eerily still. Not a sound, not a light, not a sign of life. There might as well be no town at all; the bridge went on for ever.

  There came a second, more violent jolt. This time the horses bolted, eyes wild, hooves striking sparks against the road. One of the wagons lost a wheel; the horses dragged it anyway, metal screaming on metal, scrawling a signature of fire across the last few yards of the bridge.

  ‘What do you think?’ Heimdall said as they finally left the bridge. It was shaking visibly now, the tremors coming more regularly. A distant clanging sound could be heard somewhere behind the wall of mist, and as they watched from the river bank, the gods saw the massive structure sag as if under terrible pressure. ‘It’s Loki, of course, damn him to Hel. Who else do we know who wreaks havoc everywhere he goes?’