by C. Gockel
Wiggling his way onto his knees, hands still tied behind him, Loki tries to let out a cry, but his voice is barely audible even to him.
“Loki!” Odin roars from behind. Loki tries to turn toward the sound.
Crossing swords clang in Loki’s ears. Horses whinny and bellow. A hand touches his blindfold. Loki screams beneath his gag, the blindfold disappears, and he blinks and sees a blur of flame dancing before him. Loki screams again and the fire snuffs out.
“Loki!” shouts Odin.
The blur in front of Loki comes into focus, and he’s staring into Odin’s single eye. The Allfather’s eyebrows are smoldering slightly. Surprisingly, Odin, Loki’s king and guardian, looks more relieved than angry.
Loki swallows and feels tears prickle behind his eyes. He wants to throw his arms around Odin, as he did when he was a child. Perhaps it’s best he’s still trussed up like a pig. Odin is a king, and Loki is not a child, nor his kin.
Loki closes his eyes. Patting him once on the cheek, Odin says. “Easy, I’m going to cut you loose.” Opening his eyes, Loki sees Odin pulling out a long knife. The Allfather walks around him, and Loki feels the knife slice through the bonds. His limbs snap free with such force, he almost topples over, but Odin catches him.
Loki’s wrists tingle and burn with the sudden rush of blood. “Give yourself a minute,” Odin commands. Loki looks down alarmed. He can’t feel his feet, and his legs feel as limp as newly tanned leather. Rubbing his wrists together, he looks around.
Surrounding Odin and Loki, backs to them, stand the Einherjar, the human warriors recruited from every corner of Midgard, and made immortal by Idunn’s apples. Their swords are drawn, but no one seems to be confronting them.
Near Loki’s head, Odin whistles.
Sleipnir, Odin’s enormous, eight-legged steed, emerges between the other horses, pale as a moonbeam, his halter glowing faintly. Sleipnir’s halter is magical. Woven from the strands of Gleipnir, the rope that can hold anything. Mimir always said that an ordinary stallion was difficult enough to control; give a stallion eight legs and you need magical control…
Sleipnir snuffles against Loki’s cheek, gently nudging Loki from his reverie, and then the horse pricks his ears toward the darkness.
Around them, the Einherjar begin to fan out. The night is very dark. Loki cannot even see the stars, but he thinks he makes out the shapes of dwarves lying on the nearly barren ground, arrows protruding from their bodies. He hears a few low groans.
Odin hauls Loki to his feet and surveys the scene.
Loki eyes the Einherjar with apprehension. Odin always says their gratitude makes them braver and more loyal than any Aesir or Vanir warrior. That Odin would think he needs them to fetch Loki suggests Odin suspects a dangerous foe, and yet they seem to have dealt with the dwarves quickly enough.
A tall Einherjar, his skin nearly as black as the night around them, approaches Odin. “We’ve dispatched the dwarves, Your Majesty.”
Guiding Loki by the shoulder, Odin says, “Good, let’s get back to the World Gate.”
Shaking, Loki says, “The dwarves were going to take me to the Norns.”
Hoisting himself up onto Sleipnir, Odin grunts. “Yes, Heimdall heard that just before they slipped you through Svartálfaheimr’s World Gate.” Almost to himself, he says, “The Norns requested you in exchange for information the dwarves were seeking.”
Loki feels as though his stomach has suddenly shrunk to the size of a robin’s egg. Odin and Frigga have told him that the Norns know everything that has ever happened and is happening—some say they even know what will happen—though Frigga long ago disabused him of that notion. The Norns will provide information to requestors at a price: either an object of power, or a nearly impossible favor. Loki isn’t an object of power, and capturing him doesn’t seem so impossible.
“Why would the Norns want me?” he asks, wincing at the whine in his voice.
From the saddle, Odin offers a hand to help Loki up behind him. Loki takes it—he needs it. Sleipnir’s back is nearly as high as the top of his head, and Odin’s got the stirrups. Hoisting Loki up, Odin says, “I do not know. It’s a question for later—we need to escape quickly.”
“Escape…what?” says Loki, swinging up behind Odin.
“Everything wicked in the realms eventually makes its way to Nornheim,” Odin says, holding up a hand for silence.
The tall Einherjar who’d just spoken to Odin follows the direction of Odin’s gaze. “Hoof beats,” he says.
A horse comes galloping out of the darkness, the whites of its eyes visible as they roll in terror. The beast’s saddle is askew; its rider has slumped forward and is dangling dangerously over the animal’s side, groaning loudly. Wispy gray ropes cling to both steed and warrior.
Running to grab the horse’s reins, one of the Einherjar shouts. “It’s Hsu! He was with the others guarding the World Gate.”
In the saddle, the warrior Hsu groans. “They took the gate…they…”
A bolt of gray-white rope the width of a man’s arm shoots from the darkness above and affixes to Hsu’s mouth. The warrior’s head is yanked up by the rope with such force his neck cracks. An instant later, his corpse is ripped from his saddle and pulled up into the darkness above. More bolts of rope shoot from above and affix to the Einherjar and their mounts. The horses scream as they and their riders are pulled into the air.
“Follow me!” Odin shouts, drawing a sword and severing a rope that has affixed to Sleipnir’s neck.
Some of the Einherjar are able to slip from their mounts and jump to the ground, only to have the ghostly ropes shoot from the sky and affix to their bodies and the flat edges of their swords. Sleipnir rears, and Loki clings to Odin. The Allfather curses, and Loki glances above to see Odin’s sword has been ripped from his hands. More ropes affix to Odin. One lands on Loki. Frantically trying to shake the wet sticky thing from his arms, Loki looks around in horror. His arm tightens instinctively around Odin’s waist. They are now surrounded in a forest of glistening gray-white strands.
Before Loki, two ropes affixed to either shoulder start to drag Odin out of the saddle. Loki locks his arms around the Allfather’s waist and his legs around Sleipnir’s sides trying to pull Odin down.
“Loki!” Odin screams. “Fire!”
“But I might set you aflame!” Loki cries.
Another bolt of rope shoots from the darkness to Odin’s back just in front of Loki’s nose, and Odin starts to slide from his arms.
Loki gives a cry of rage and fear, sees red, orange, yellow, and blue light before his eyes, and every inch of his skin burns. Beneath Loki, Sleipnir screams, and Odin falls back into the saddle. The heat fades from Loki’s skin, but around him, fires still crackle in clumps of dry grass and dried up husks of bushes on the ground.
In the flickering light, Loki can see the terrain around them for the first time. The earth is almost completely barren, the sky above…He gasps. They appear to be in a huge tent of some kind. Red lights glint amid the eaves. Around him swing warriors and horses encased in hammocks of sticky rope.
He jumps in the saddle as a loud crack sounds to his right. Turning with a gasp, he sees the skeletal remains of a tree burst into flame, fire dancing up its trunk to branches hidden beneath the tent’s white eaves. Close to where the tree burns, a horse falls from the sky and lands on its feet with the sound of splintering bones. The horse screams in pain and tumbles to the ground. A few of the Einherjar fall from above and stumble to their feet. “Grab hold of Sleipnir’s mane and tail!” Odin commands.
Hastening to obey Odin’s words, the warriors run through curled blackened ends of rope to Sleipnir’s sides.
A bolt of the sticky rope lands on the ground before them, and Sleipnir rears. “Steady!” Odin commands, and Sleipnir stills, shaking his head and snorting. More ropes fall around them. To the warriors around him, Odin says, “Sleipnir will slip through time. Whatever you see, feel or hear, do not let go!”
Loki barely has a cha
nce to digest those words before Odin gives a tap to Sleipnir’s haunches. Loki instantly feels lighter. Another bolt of rope shoots from the sky—and then appears to stop in midair. Tossing his head nervously, Sleipnir begins to thread his way through the small clumps of fire and sticky rope pillars.
Staring at the flames, Loki almost falls from his saddle. The flames aren’t flickering, they are just columns of colored light, as though intricately carved and painted statues of fire.
One of the Einherjar mutters a swear and releases Sleipnir’s mane…Loki blinks…and the warrior is no longer at Sleipnir’s side. Craning his head around, he sees the soldier, body seemingly frozen in place, hand outstretched toward them far off in the distance. Odin doesn’t turn Sleipnir around.
The sky above them goes from black, speckled with a few distant clusters of red lights, to navy blue, lit by three moons, and unfamiliar stars. Tightening his arms around Odin, Loki looks back again and sees the tent-like structure they emerged from already far back in the distance. Suddenly around them trees rise. Some look familiar. Others look completely alien, leaves like feathers or dinner plates visible even in the low light. In only a few falls of Sleipnir’s hooves, the forest falls away, and they are standing on a bluff. Odin draws Sleipnir to a halt. Loki’s body suddenly has weight again, and his ears are assailed by the sound of chirping insects. The soldiers still holding onto Sleipnir’s mane and tail gasp and murmur. The hum of insects rises around them.
Gentle mountains covered by forest stretch all around them. Between some of the mountains, Loki sees more tents. From the outside, they glisten white in the moonlight. He squints. Because of the distance, it’s difficult to gauge their size, but he’d guess each tent to be the size of a small city.
Those observations are secondary to the true defining feature of the Nornheim landscape. Scattered about, seemingly at random, are enormous columns. Each must be as wide as Odin’s great hall. Their bases are not smooth and circular; rather, they seem to be composed of many great tree trunks merged together. Near the ground, they are covered with plants, but as they rise into the sky, their surfaces shimmer with color and appear to be lit by inner light. They stretch so high, their tops are invisible, but Loki thinks he makes out the faint shadow of branches slightly obscuring the faces of the moons.
In the saddle, Odin lifts his head and roars. “Hoenir, create a new gate!”
Tense minutes tick by, with Odin saying nothing. Sleipnir stamps the ground and shifts beneath Loki. The buzzing of night insects grows louder.
Odin grunts, and says, “The branches of the columns obstruct Hoenir and Heimdall’s vision. I’ll have to create a new gate myself.”
Loki sits back in surprise. “You can open World Gates?” he whispers. Through clenched teeth the Allfather says, “Not well.”
He turns his head to the side. In profile, Odin’s face is haggard, weary…and it strikes Loki, maybe even fearful.
If Odin is worried, Loki is worried. He shivers.
Patting Loki’s hand, Odin chuckles. “The odds are I will fail…but then again, I have you.”
Loki’s brow furrows. He can’t imagine what could be worse than what they’ve already come through.
Nervously stepping sideways, Sleipnir lets out a nervous whinny.
“Sire, behind us,” says one of the warriors.
Loki turns. In the night sky behind them, he sees a swarm of shadows rising into the air. They look like giant dragonflies, but where he’d expect the bodies of insects, he sees slender, hominid-like forms.
“Adze,” a dark-skinned Einherjar says. “Cursed bloodsuckers.”
Loki’s mouth goes dry. There are hundreds of them.
“Loki, hold tight!” Odin commands. “That goes for the rest of you, too.”
Without further warning, Odin gives Sleipnir a kick in the haunches. Loki feels his body go light, the humming of insects stops, and Sleipnir launches himself down the bluff, leaping in such great bounds that the bones of a normal horse’s legs would crack. But Sleipnir and the Einherjar land lightly. On Sleipnir’s back, Loki would not know the beast had leaped if he hadn’t seen it for himself.
x x x x
Bohdi pushes his head a little further into the air duct between the two rooms. The back of Steve’s head comes into view and then the rest of the room’s occupants. He sees Amy, looking a little lost in space, staring above Thor’s head. Skírnir is glaring at her.
Eyes on Steve, Thor says, “If it were so easy. My father can create gates, but only at great expense.”
“What does this have to do with us?” says Steve.
Turning to Steve, Skírnir says, “The World Seed’s residual magic is still creating gates in your city. Depending on their proximity to the Norn’s stronghold, it is possible that the Norns have not been able to close them. All we require of you is that you take us to a gate that leads to Nornheim. Then I will open the gate, and Thor and I will be gone and trouble you no more.”
Tilting his head, Steve says, “We have gates, but we don’t know where they lead.”
In the duct, Bohdi’s nose starts to itch. Rubbing his upper lip, he restrains a sneeze. He can’t help but notice that, at the conference table, Amy’s eyes have gone wide as though she’s surprised.
Voice tight, Skírnir says, “Surely your whore Gerðr has told you?”
Steve’s shoulders tighten like he’s restraining the urge to lunge across the table and strangle someone. Which he probably is.
Bohdi feels his skin heat. Steve has worked hard to ensure Gerðr is treated with more decency than the cranky giantess gives any human. She only has female guards. She’s never alone with any one person, male or female, and all her interactions are on camera—precisely because Steve doesn’t want any allegations like the ones Skírnir just tossed into the room.
Steepling his fingers, Steve says coolly, “The lady is not a whore. And frankly, that you suggest she is treated as one under my roof insults me.”
Thor casts a dark look in Skírnir’s direction. “Excuse him. Skírnir does not know your ways. He did not mean to cause offense.”
For his part, Skírnir, the magician guy, looks both annoyed and perplexed. “Indeed, I did not. But she is your prisoner so I assumed you would—”
Straightening in his chair, Steve says nothing. Bohdi’s lip curls. His boss has way too much self-control. If Bohdi were in the room, he’d strangle Skírnir on Steve’s behalf.
Clearing his throat, Thor says, “Gerðr is capable of knowing what realm any World Gate leads to without traversing it.”
Leaning forward, Skírnir says, “Has she not told you?”
Bohdi knows she hasn’t, but Steve does not respond.
Looking pleased, Skírnir says, “If she has not, leave her to me, and I will extract the information for you.”
Voice flat, Steve says, “I’ll have to run it by my superiors.”
Clearing his throat, Thor says, “He means magic compulsion, Agent Rogers. Not torture.”
Skírnir raises an eyebrow in Thor’s direction that clearly says, “Say what?” Bohdi feels a little sick.
“I’ll still have to clear it,” Steve says.
Skírnir’s eyes narrow. “How long will it take?”
“Oh, it could take quite some time, months…” says Steve. He gives a shrug and a casual wave that clearly say “maybe never.”
Bohdi almost snorts. If Steve had a magic power, it would be clearing hurdles of bureaucratic bullshit in the blink of an eye.
Skírnir glares, but Thor grunts and says, “Do what you must.” He gives Steve a tight smile. “We are not authorized to interfere with the internal workings of your affairs.”
“Yet,” says Skírnir.
Bohdi’s fingers tighten at the edge of the grate.
Looking genuinely weary, Thor slumps in his seat. “Enough of this politicking. Agent Rogers, it is truly good to see you again.”
Summoning up more self-control than Bohdi’s ever had, Steve says, �
��And it is good to see you.”
Thor visibly brightens. “Does your cafeteria still boast the magical chocolate elixir?”
“Yes, it does,” says Steve, and Bohdi can hear the smile in Steve’s voice. Steve can bullshit in ways Bohdi never can.
Bohdi smirks. If Steve can cut through bullshit as well as he can deliver bullshit, does that make Steve the King of Bullshit? He restrains a chuckle. He’s going to declare that Steve’s title…but maybe after a few beers.
“Let us adjourn there,” says Thor, banging his fist on the table. There is a loud crack, the table shudders, sags, and the middle drops to the floor with a bang. Everyone that wasn’t already standing jumps from their seats. Every agent along the room’s perimeter has his Glock out and pointed at Thor or Skírnir.
Thor stares at the table and says sheepishly, “No offense meant.”
Steve steps over, puts a hand on Thor’s shoulder and turns him toward the door. “None taken. I’ll let my people escort you to the cafeteria. I need a few words with Dr. Lewis.”
Thor stares blankly at Steve for a few long seconds, and then his eyes widen. Looking back at Amy, he dips his chin in a gesture that looks respectful. Bohdi almost sighs. No one gives him that sort of respect.
With a final parting nod to Steve, Thor and Skírnir step out of the room with a gauntlet of agents surrounding them, magic detectors beeping as they leave the confines of the Promethean Wire.
And then it’s just Steve and Amy…and Bohdi, if peering through the air duct counts.
Leaning two hands on the back of a chair, Steve says, “Well, Dr. Lewis, do you have any insights into the meeting?”
Amy puts her hands in her pockets and looks down. She prods the table with the toe of her sneaker. Bohdi leans closer. Amy isn’t gorgeous, but she is really, really cute. And she’s a doctor.
There are people at ADUO who say less than nice things about her—how she isn’t very bright to have hooked up with Loki, and how His Mischievousness just wanted someone who was easy to control. Amy’s file is so well protected that even Bohdi hasn’t been able to read it. But gossip isn’t as easily contained. She helped Loki escape from Alfheim, realm of the elves, and ran over Thor with her car on purpose. Bohdi was also there when she opened a portal to another dimension and when she came back from said dimension…by herself.
