Hellbound

by Tina Glasneck

  Thor had been off in the land of Giants, from the last I’d heard, again fighting off some pending threat.

  We still hadn’t talked about his role in how things ended, and how Lady Hel had achieved the freeing of her kin.

  The gods told me that things on Midgard had reverted to how they used to be before the Dark Elf invasion, but something told me the truth wasn’t as crisp and clean. But I’d yet to find out the absolute truth. There was no Google here, no Wi-Fi that would allow me to do a proper internet search, and no one willing to answer any of my questions regarding Midgard.

  Yep, more like a prisoner than a guest for sure.

  When we finally entered the pub, a loud cheer went up, and the brawny red-haired man seated at one of the tables turned around and raised his stein at us.

  Crap, Thor was back, and he was looking directly at me.

  I ducked out before he could make his way over.

  I wasn’t ready to deal with him. Fury mixed with sadness. I could be in that room, and talk to everyone but him, but then he’d know something was up; that for some reason I was avoiding him, and he’d be damned right.

  Chapter 9

  Thor

  “Everyone thinks they can be a hero, but almost no one is willing to do the dirty work,” Tyr began following behind Thor as he briskly carried the cauldron and glanced at the sky. They trekked onwards in Jötunheim, the realm of the giants.

  “I hope dear dad is going to be okay with your borrowing his cauldron,” Thor said. “After all, we’ve gone to enough trouble for it.”

  Thor looked over his shoulder and could see the giants approaching.

  “I’m just hoping the beer tastes great.” Tyr began to laugh. “Did you invite me to come along to tell me something?”

  Thor had hoped for more time. Of course, there was nothing like the present to explain to his dear friend that his enemy, Fenrir, had broken free.

  “This is about Fenrir?” Tyr asked. He rubbed his wrist on which his bionic hand rested, a gift from the crafty dwarves.

  Of course, at that time Tyr had been foolish enough to sacrifice his hand for the greater good of the gods, only for them to laugh as Fenrir bit off his hand so that the gods could chain him up.

  “You’re not still embittered by that are you?” Thor asked,

  “Embittered? Now that’s quite a big word.”

  “Come now. Back then we had to find a way to keep Fenrir captive—”

  “By driving him insane. Everything that we do pits us against the other. Who is to say that things would not be different if we’d taken care of Loki’s children; even been kind to Loki?”

  Thor shook his head. Tyr had always been the most just of them all too. He’d once heard in talks that Tyr was like Rome’s Jupiter. But luckily, they didn’t have to deal with Tyr’s view of how things were regarded, as the All-Father, Odin still sat on the throne, and always in search of knowledge, not justice, though.

  “We’ve always been kind to Loki,” Thor countered. Tyr heartily laughed and ran his fingers through his short curly brown hair and over his beard. “You are the bravest of us all.”

  “Is that another way of saying dumb, naive? I am the only one between us missing an appendage.”

  “No, never.” Thor clasped Tyr on his shoulder. “Your new hand works even better. Plus, it hasn’t slowed you down as a war god.”

  Tyr flexed his bionic hand in reaction, his sword hand.

  “Crap. It looks like we’re not going to get out of here without a little bit of a battle.” Tyr shook his head. “That would be too simple.”

  “What is it that you want me to do?”

  “Set it down. Might as well take care of them, or we’re not going to make it back to Asgard with what we need.”

  Thor dropped the cauldron and spun around. He saw Tyr’s father and his giant men racing towards them.

  Tyr gripped his sword, and they began to clash!

  Thunder rolled across the forest, knocking down the careening trees. Lightning lit up the sky, sparking from Mjolnir gripped in Thor’s outstretched hand. With his power-belt around his waist, he raised his hammer and threw it as hard and far as he could. Lightning sparked; it sizzled the air, and slammed into the approaching giant’s skull to then return to Thor’s raised hand like a boomerang.

  They watched them all fall without even breaking a sweat.

  Thor then picked up the cauldron again. “Come on; I’ve worked up a thirst.”

  Word must have spread. It used to be that attacks came only so often, but now, word about Loki, Hel and that triad, must have gotten back and passed through the realm. This was only the latest attack since Thor’s return. More and more dissent rose and spread. That was what the treacherous nature of Hel and Loki brought with it.

  He shook his head at that thought. Loki had behaved as close to kin, a blood brother to his father, Odin, but his role in this latest betrayal couldn’t be overlooked.

  There was nothing Loki could do that would make this right. They would bring about chaos and unleash the evil that he and the other gods had fought hard to contain.

  “Do you sense it too?” Thor asked.

  “Yes, word has spread. When we return, we need to speak with the All-Father.”

  “Surely, he is aware of it,” Thor considered.

  “Yes, but now we have to find a way to deal with it.”

  The merriment, laughter, and gaiety all ceased the moment he crossed the pub’s threshold. “Thor!” A loud cheer went up in the pub as he entered; all of those gathered cheered at his arrival. They understood what he did, and the grave risks he put himself through to protect them from their enemies.

  He nodded his head and smiled. To them, he was a hero, one to be revered, but not all gathered there seemed to agree with his assessment.

  He searched the room until his gaze came to rest on the woman with the amber-flecked eyes, and ombre curly hair. Her black hair had begun to change colors the longer she remained in Asgard, he surmised.

  She guzzled down her Idunn’s fruit-flavored beer and hurried away.

  He headed over toward the bar, where Idunn wiped away the latest drops of dew, and tossed her raspberry-tinted hair over her shoulder and filled him a mug of foamy mead.

  “She seems to be adjusting to being here,” Thor said and took a seat on the barstool.

  “Yes, but she still avoids you and tries to hide her sadness. She is a pretty good actress, but she needs purpose here. This is not a respite for her, but a prison.”

  “What do you suggest?” Thor asked and drank deeply from the glass.

  “There are whispers of something big coming.”

  “When is there not something big?”

  “The greatest way to a woman’s heart is to hear those things that she is not saying.”

  “You will need her by your side as your ally, for the key is that which unlocks all things, even the beast we wish to keep caged.”

  Chapter 10

  Lady Hel

  “You have failed me, despite your best effort!” Lady Hel stared down at the cowering Dark Elf before her with its platinum blonde hair. His skin was as dark as pitch, just like a venomous adder, and his scaled armor seemed fitting to his traitorous nature. “Your role was simple, but you turned tail and came back instead of facing off with the gods. For your cowardice, you shall receive death. There must always be honor, even in dishonor.”

  Despite his thick black leather armor, if not for his short red cloak that draped over his armor, she would not have known him to be a priest. His helmet rested in front of him on the cold stone floor, at her feet, along with his bow and arrow-filled quiver.

  Before the many Dark Elven onlookers, all waiting to see which judgments would be passed down. She felt their black eyes staring at her.

  He was a Dökkálfar, from their religious caste. One of their most esteemed, even.

  No promises waited. Cowardice could not be tolerated. Just as Odin collected the valiant and noble sol
diers, she too had to collect those who would fight for her cause.

  She could hear his thoughts, as they were created by the gods, a caste of beings given life, and responsibilities.

  “It is not too late. We still hold areas—”

  Hel cupped the air and raised the Dark Elf up by his throat, without touching him, and emerald green magic sparked, flowing from her white hand.

  She cocked her eyebrow. The greenish tint of her magic was new, different.

  “My Lady, you mustn’t do this,” he croaked, “as I know where the crown of the Alder King is, and with that, you will be able to attain the power to awaken him.”

  She could reach into his mind and see what was hidden, as his fear leaked out, dripping down her arm in greenish droplets, while his heart ticked loudly like a bomb, ready to explode in his chest.

  “Speak,” she commanded. She knew all of the details, as told to her by Verdandi, but what did this elf know? Who might have been talking?

  His feet dangled in the air until she dropped him. He gasped for breath and massaged his neck which had been in an iron-tight invisible clasp.

  “There are rumors,” he began

  Five earthly years had passed since Harley’s death, and still, she searched for his essence, for any hint of truth, and when the Dark Elves aligned with her, she expected that their combined might would be enough to acquire the first tactical win, which it had. She’d freed her family, those held in captivity by the gods, but still, her Harley was out of her reach.

  “There have always been rumors,” she countered. “What news do you have that might be worth enough that you receive a reprieve from my judgment?”

  She waited for him to sputter something forth.

  “But things are not like they were on Midgard,” he said. “Magic has been rebirthed. And now the Wielders can act.”

  “But the gods have rewound time to undo all that had occurred.”

  “Yes, but pockets still remain. Even the gods cannot undo the magic endued by the Norns, and since the Norn sister, Verdandi, walked on Midgard, it seems like her magical essence remains as pockets.”

  “Pockets of magic, you say?” She’d given him enough rope to hang himself. Verdandi, one of the sisters of fates, had indeed been quite active in all that had transpired; not only in assisting in creating the plan for the release of Lady Hel’s brothers but showing her the importance of Sif, the key, who can unlock all things.

  “Thank you for your service, for you’ve told me nothing that I don’t already know. Why do you think I allowed you to invade Midgard? Pain produces magic. Magic can help unearth rage that we all shall feel.” Hel raised her fist and shook it in the air.

  “But my lady.”

  Before he could continue, she enveloped him in the green glow, and around him, the air began to shift and morph; green-and-blue runes formed and floated as a three-dimensional sigil around him.

  “Pray, dear elf, pray hard, so that we gods may hear you.” She lifted him higher and began to soak in his essence until he withered under her touch.

  The sigil turned green, and bore the holy runes, formed around them, and shimmered.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” His voice barely a whisper. “With Midgard being magical, you will need all of the magic we can use,” he sputtered. “And a map to find the magical stones that the gods do not wish for you to see.”

  “What map?”

  “There are whispers that the Alder King’s crown was destroyed and the enchanted stones were cast throughout the realms. Although your highness will not take a trip to retrieve them, surely your trusted servant might do so.”

  “Where is the map?” she whispered. Her voice was as low as a hiss.

  “I don’t have it, but I’ve seen it. It’s held under lock and key, but Longo, my benefactor, overheard the rumors from Mimnir and Njord, and pieced it together to create the map. It shows where the stones can be found.”

  Hel frowned. Mimnir was problematic, but to have Njord back in Alfheim with the Vanir gods gave her pause. The last skirmish between the gods had resulted in a draw, and as part of those terms Njord, along with Freyja, had been sent to Asgard, while Hoenir and Mimnir were sent from Asgard to the Vanir.

  The Vanir were a vain lot, and soon Hoenir wiggled his way to the chieftain position. To them, he was their ideal in appearance. His features were perfectly symmetrical, and behind those dark, brooding chocolate, eyes rested nothing. Although most didn’t see it, she knew it to be true. He was a dimwit. It was like the universe didn’t have enough common sense to offer him any. And it made up for it in a handsome appearance and an empty shell.

  Asgard was as much their home now, but Njord, the former chief deity of the Vanir, had never been allowed to simply return. What sort of political maneuver could this be? Odin would never allow Njord to take on forces again, and Hoenir was always one to thrash and burn anything that Mimnir told him to. Mimnir was the hand of the chieftain, always standing next to the throne and translating the on-goings for Hoenir’s understanding. Why would they be discussing the crown?

  A wry smile crossed Lady Hel’s lips. She waved her hand over the dark elf’s head, and her hand again glowed green; the green vapors seeping down into the dark elf’s skull until his black eyes turned emerald green. “Now, show me the map,” she ordered.

  The memories played before her like a muted hologram; the image produced showed not only the map that rested on a large stone table but also an argument between Njord, Hoenir, and Mimnir, at least that was what she supposed as the table shook from a sword being slammed onto the surface.

  Hel retracted the memory from the elf and enlarged it before her. The map was complicated, with symbols that would need time to be deciphered, but one location she could make out simply: that of Svartalfheim. There, deep within the fortified labyrinth of mines and forges, she’d find one of the stones.

  This would be the perfect journey for Ola, one of her most trusted, to take. Not only would she find the stones of the crown, but she’d also increase in that of the rights of the Wielder.

  “I tire of your games,” she said. And with one complete toss, she cast the dark elf to Garmr, her waiting wolf-dog.

  “Siegfried, head to Ola and give her my decree. She is to travel to Svartalfheim.”

  “Yes, my Lady,” Siegfried said with a bow.

  “Smile, Siegfried, we are on the right path.” She then clapped her hands. “Next,” she called out. “Too many have failed me, and the wolves are still hungry.”

  Chapter 11

  Sif

  The note was simple, and a blue flower included: Meet me at our place, it said.

  Maybe I should have been sleeping but lying down just meant thinking about things too much and patrolling gave me something to do. Nothing left to do but stare at the ceiling and wonder about my decisions was a way to stay awake. Regret could be a bitch. But to miss this opportunity would only feed the regret machine until all that gnawed at me would be wondering why I wasn’t enough.

  In Asgard, rumors raced about my love of Loki, and there was no denying the glances of contempt when I didn’t show my uttermost alliance to the gods and bow to Thor.

  I reached over and turned off the camera. “Hey, Heimdall, got to take a bathroom break.” It was the first thing I could think of to explain why I didn’t want him to listen in.

  “No problem, Sif. Call me when you are ready to go back online.”

  “Roger that.” I clicked off my earbud and out of the shadows stepped Loki, his hands shoved in his jean pockets. I re-sheathed my daggers, drinking him in.

  “I see you’re making good use of my gift,” Loki said eyeing the daggers. He smiled a broad smile that made me respond in kind. “I told you they’d be better for close combat until you got a better grasp of the battle axe.”

  “Yes, but coming to Midgard was my idea.”

  “A great one at that. I didn’t think you’d make it,” he said. His voice held a hint of what I assumed was delight. T
hen he paused. It was an uncomfortable pause that weighed heavy between them. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

  “The night has been super busy tracking. Sorry for the delay.”

  “I shouldn’t be here,” Loki said. His words were thickly spiced with his Londonesque accent that made me melt. “But I needed to see you.” He’d dressed for the occasion, jeans and a long-sleeve Henley shirt, undone, with the sleeves pulled up. He ran his fingers through his dark curls that seemed a little longer than usual. He was a Goth girl’s dream come true, and he was all mine.

  My stomach flip flopped. He was forbidden, and yet, here we still met.

  He moved to my side and gathered me into his strong arms and kissed me. His lips slid over mine, demanding, needing, reflecting my own desire. I pulled him closer, wanting only to melt into him, this gorgeous god who was mine.

  At least right now.

  The nagging thoughts sought to intrude. This was a stolen moment, and at any moment the consequences could come at my feet, where I’d have to choose.

  It was just a stolen kiss, a stolen moment, and one of the secrets I kept so near and dear that no one knew, not even Chi. Outside of these moments, I had to hate him.

  His ocean blue eyes pulled me in like the tide, and I needed to have him. My hands moved to feel his skin, and rest on his heart.

  “You don’t need to be afraid. We will always find a way, Hjarta.” Loki kissed the top of my head, and I wrapped my arms around him.

  A part of me danced in the joy that he missed me, even if just for a moment. He stretched out his hand and did what we always did—stepped from Midgard to his 1970s themed bar. It was perfect. “Don’t worry. No time shall pass, and no one will know that we’ve been together.”

  The jukebox blared to life, playing The Fleetwoods, Come Softly to Me.

  “Are you going to make me a playlist?” I teased.