by J. L. Murray
“No,” said Magda. “I think not.”
Eleni looked back to Fin. “Then I won't run,” she said. “Not ever.”
Magda smiled to herself. At least some things never changed. Zaric would have said the same. “We have a small army,” said Magda. “A pitiful army, yes. But men that love blood. Men that would die for Eleni. Men that would rather die in violence than go back to their starving children as walking wounded. At least they have that in common with the Northerners. If there were a full moon, it would be easy. But they will fight just as boldly as men.” Magda frowned into her hands. “There are others, Alaunus. I could call them. They would come.” She looked up into Fin's bearded face, his eyes suddenly alert and wary. “They would come without question. There is no reason you should fight this alone.”
“There is reason,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “You know the reasons. If we go in alone, we have a chance of winning. If we lose, only two gods lose their souls on this day. To send in an army of gods when we know not the power Loki possesses...that is madness.”
Magda raised an eyebrow at him. “I do not wish to be contrary,” she said, “but your family was quite strong. If he defeated them, do you not think it would be wise to go in greater numbers?”
“I do not think it wise to send a dozen gods to the slaughter,” said Fin, his eyes narrowed. “Do not cloud this task with your own desires, Magda. Everyone knows what you seek.”
“I would not risk the lives of gods for my own wishes,” said Magda. “You had best remember who you are speaking to, Alaunus. If I had my sisters with me...”
“Then you would not sully your hands with such matters,” said Fin.
Magda looked away, unable to argue. He was right. This would never happen if Magda had her sisters. They would cut Loki down in an instant were they together.
“Just let us find what we are dealing with, Magda,” said Fin, his voice gentler. “We all know what Eleni means to you. She is another clue to lead you to Anja. But she is her own. You cannot control things. Not now. Not like this.”
“What are you saying?” said Eleni, looking confused. She looked at Magda. “What does he mean?”
Magda sighed, tearing her eyes from Fin and looking at Eleni. “You are my blood,” she said. “Whether anyone recognizes that or not. Your mother was your mother. It has not happened before, but that doesn't mean it cannot be. I only worry about your safety.” Fin snorted and looked away. “I will not call them, Alaunus,” she said. “You have my word.”
Fin studied her for a moment, then nodded curtly. “Good. I still think Eleni should flee.”
“You would not flee,” said Eleni.
“No,” said Fin. “But I'm afraid for you.”
“What should we do?” said Eleni, looking at Magda. “Do we wait for them to come?”
“There are the women and children to consider,” said Fin. “The snow is low in the mountains. If they leave here, they would just freeze to death in their travels. Or worse. Strange creatures roam the mountains.”
“No,” said Magda. “They cannot leave here. Not now. You will have to meet the enemy.”
“And if they are waiting for us?” said Fin. “What if it is a trap?”
“If you know of another way, I would like to hear it,” said Magda.
“What will you tell the Reivers?” said Fin.
“I will tell them Eleni needs them to fight,” said Magda. “As do I. Now you two go get some sleep before it is time to leave. I will handle the Reivers.”
Magda watched them go, Eleni disappearing into her tent and Fin lingering just a moment too long, watching the place where she disappeared. There was a movement near the trees and the old woman turned to look. Two golden orbs looked back at her before the wolf turned and ran into the forest. Magda blinked, then her eyes traveled up. The tips of the first rays of morning sun appeared behind the mountains.
The camp was beginning to stir. Women were emerging from tents, shivering in the morning air. Elek's head popped out of his tent followed by his hulking body, bent low to clear the low entry. He stretched and scratched his black beard. He was shirtless and wore only trousers and boots. He didn't appear to be affected by the cold. He saw her looking at him and walked over, his long arms swinging at his sides.
“Magda,” he said, nodding to her. “Been up all night?”
“Yes,” she said. She was so weary it was hard to even get the words out. She knew the Reivers would join them with no hesitation. With glee, even. But she also suspected how it was going to end. They would be lucky if even a few survived. She wasn't happy with what she was about to do, but it had to be done. It was hypocritical of her to worry about the women and children after chiding Eleni for doing the same. It was unfortunate. These women had led joyless lives. Losing their husbands could destroy them. But Magda had to stop the trickster. A world without gods was no world to live in. And Loki seemed to be on a path that would allow him to take down gods with greater and greater power.
Elek, seeming to see through her, narrowed his eyes. He crouched down beside her. “What is it, Grandmother?” he said. “Something has happened, yes?”
“They're here,” said Magda.
It started to snow.
Chapter Twelve
Loki stepped out of the rancid-smelling hut and breathed the cold air deep into his lungs. He felt the snow fall onto his face, melting immediately upon contact. He loved the snow. It reminded him of home. It had been so long since he'd been home. It would not be much longer, he thought.
There was a crash and snarling inside the hut and he sighed. It was difficult for him to remember that these beasts were his blood. Had he been free when Fenrir fathered them, he would have intervened in the way they were raised. Beasts like this, with their strength and bloodlust, had to be trained. They could have been the most powerful fighters in the world. But they had their father's shortsighted mind. They only cared about tearing and ripping and the small doses that Perun had been doling out to them. If only they knew they had been getting a few drops of what Perun could give them. The foolish god used the rest for himself when they were dazed in the snow. Loki had been watching.
It would be a happy thing when he did to the lightning god what Perun had been paying Loki's grandchildren to do. Perun was getting old. He saw Zaric everywhere he looked. In the end, Loki would make Perun tell him why he was so desperate to kill the fire god once and for all. It made no sense. It had always vexed Loki. Perun had killed Zaric once, of course, but that was because the bone horn had been bestowed on him.
Loki touched the heavy pouch at his waist. It wasn't the horn, but the symbols that carried the power. . The symbols, carved over a century old, so old they had nearly been worn away. All this had been explained to Loki when he had been freed from his prison, from the torture that Odin had devised just for him. So many seasons, made to feel even longer because they had cut out his wife's tongue. She couldn't speak and when she did, it came out garbled and inexact. The burning poison on his face had been nothing compared to the lack of stimulation. He had talked to himself for a hundred winters. His sweet wife, Sigyn, had gone slowly mad, at first from infection and pain, and later from the banality of it all. Loki ground his teeth when he thought of it. She never should have died.
The pounding in his head brought him back around from his rage. Not now, said a voice in his head. Odin will pay later.
Loki nodded to himself. When he was strong enough he would take Odin. He would have Odin's essence in the end. He would drink it from the horn like the finest mead. All of it had been Odin's fault, even Sigyn's suicide. She had shoved her own face into the mouth of the snake. And then he had felt the now-familiar pounding. And the voice. And then he had been free. He had held her body in his arms for three days before he buried her.
There was a crash of furniture breaking in the hut behind him. Loki could feel the structure shake as the brothers fought inside. Loki sighed and stepped away from the house. The snow wa
sn't sticking yet, and he surveyed the oddly uneven, blackened areas in the town where the structures had burned down. So much burned completely that it was easier to see what hadn't been cremated. Not much was left. A few structures in one corner, parts of houses here and there that had miraculously survived the flames, a few huts near the entrance. He turned to the bent iron gate through which they had entered. Loki could still feel the tingle of power in the air. Something potent had been here. He inhaled the acrid smell of stale burnt wood. It was mingled with something else, something only Loki could have detected. The god of chaos smiled and licked his lips. It was hate.
“Isn't that interesting?” he said softly into the falling snow, his breath filling his vision with fog for barely a moment before dissipating.
He had met Zaric a few times in the old days. The old god had been full of himself. Arrogant and reserved with, what Loki gleefully recalled, a bit of insanity in his eyes. All the gods here thirsted for power. They were barbaric and heavy-handed, not as cunning as those in the North. But what he felt here was different. A thirst for power was one thing, but pure hate was something else altogether. For his own reasons, he had agreed with this joke of a lightning god that he would find Zaric, but now he was growing genuinely curious. In what form had the fire god been reborn?
Loki walked through the bent gate. He had spotted the iron box on their way in, but he had been distracted with searching for Zaric in the dark. Now that it was growing lighter, he could see it more clearly. He walked around it, feeling his bare feet crunch on the frozen ground, running his finger along its edge. It was smaller than the shelter that his hounds slept in, in the old days. An iron bar across the front had been wrapped around itself, presumably to keep whatever had been inside from escaping. The top half of the door looked as though it had been melted to create an opening. It was not big enough for a man, though. Perhaps a child.
Loki peeked his head in and caught his breath. The tingling of power made his face numb like an invisible slap. He blinked into the darkness, letting his eyes adjust. Even with the enormous hole in the door, the darkness in the box seemed impenetrable. After a moment, though, he could make out a cot, a blanket, a small pile of bones. It was a prison. Loki frowned. A prison for a god, he realized. It was the only way to explain the intensity of power that he could feel. But how? How had a god been kept here? Even at his weakest he could have broken this box open like an egg if he chose. He remembered his wife. Perhaps the new Zaric had a wife, too. Perhaps he was protecting her. He stepped away, looking at the ground. The snow wasn't sticking yet, though it would be soon. There were blackened footprints on the ground leading into the village. Small footprints. So small. He put his own foot next to one, and found it was double the footprints. Small and delicate they were, but not as small as a child.
Zaric had come back as a woman, then. Interesting, but not unheard of.
Loki walked to the center of the pitiful village. He looked around at the seared earth, the remains of the huts miniscule against the iron gate that stretched nearly as high as the ancient trees beyond. Loki breathed in. He could feel the destruction, it quickened his blood. He crouched down and touched the crumbling, charred wood that had been the base of a hut. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Hate was here, like he had felt before, outside the village. But more than that, pain. And behind that, the thing that was behind every pain: love. Something was wrong. This was not the god that Loki had known. Zaric had changed, even beyond the change from man to woman. Loki stood up, frowning up into the falling snow. Zaric was strong, but he had been as dull as his lightning-wielding brother. No excitement, no spirit. Nothing to draw a god like Loki. But this. This was chaos. This caliber of destruction was raw, untempered by any intrusion of training or control. And coupled with this degree of sheer, unadulterated passion, this degree of power took his breath away. Loki licked his lips.
It was delicious.
There was a sudden crash behind him, and the sound of splintering wood and snarling and yipping followed.
“Enough,” he said, the words muffled as the snow fell more heavily. A thin layer of white was sticking to the burned village now. The brothers had ceased their fighting at his words. Loki turned to look at them. They averted their eyes, afraid to look upon him in his true form. Loki sighed.
“Have it your way,” he said. He felt the hair follicles expand, like a limb gone to sleep. The prickling was right on the edge of a pain and an itch. He felt the fur cover first his feet, then crawl up his legs, and then spread to the rest of his body. His spine stretched, making him groan, and he felt his face bubbling with the transformation, before his nose and chin expanded out, the bones shifting and changing and stretching. His heart hammered as it swelled and extra ribs grew where none were needed before. When it was over, Loki breathed a cloud into the air.
“He's not here,” said Skoll, finally meeting Loki's eyes. “The fire god.”
“It would appear,” said Loki, his voice grating against itself in its changed form, “that he is a she.”
“A woman?” said Hati.
“A goddess,” said Loki. “You'd best remember that. As strong as I've made you, she will be stronger.”
“We will rip her apart and eat her heart,” said Skoll, his eyes glinting.
“I wouldn't be so sure about that,” said Loki. “And do not forget, Zaric is not the only one we seek.”
“When do we leave?” said Hati, scratching his chest with his claws extended.
“We don't,” said Loki. “We wait.”
“Waiting is for cowards,” growled Skoll.
Loki crouched and trailed a finger through the thin layer of snow on the ground. It was good snow. He was so far away from home, but he would return soon. It was so close he could taste it. He licked his teeth, long and sharp and savage. The air was thick with winter, and promise, and darkness.
“Did you see the white raven before? It flew over our heads right before we arrived here.” The two shook their heads dully. “It isn't an ordinary bird. I've seen it before, on several occasions. The crone's raven. And I am almost positive that this new Zaric is with her. It is too much a coincidence for a Fate to be in the same wood as the one we seek. Although, wouldn't that be the most fantastic coincidence?”
The brothers looked at him, uncomprehending.
“We wait,” said Loki. “Let them come to us, cold and shivering and exhausted from travel. We will be rested and ready for the fight.”
“And if there are others?” said Skoll. “This place reeks of Reivers.”
“Reivers are the least of our worries,” said Loki. The thought gave him a chilling thrill. He had so missed this world. The world he had risen into was a great deal more fascinating than the one he had left for his prison. Loki looked at Skoll. “But no matter. Whatever comes will feast in Valhalla by dawn,” he said. “Or wherever these barbarians go after they've been slaughtered.”
Chapter Thirteen
Eleni awoke to shouting. She sat up in her cot and swung her legs out, rising quickly and unsteadily. Hastily shrugging into her dress, she became acutely aware that she wasn't alone.
“They're waiting for you, you know,” said Iren, rising from a crouch.
“How long have you been there?” demanded Eleni. The girl flinched. Eleni was angrier at herself for not waking, even amid the yelling from outside and an intruder inside. She could not let herself become lax.
“Long enough,” said Iren, standing up straight. She looked steady, but Eleni could feel her heart quicken, could smell the bitter sweat that came with fear. Iren pointed a shaky finger at Eleni's neck. “It glows brighter when you sleep, did you know?” she said.
Eleni touched the hard circle at her throat. It felt hot, even to her touch. “Magda thinks it keeps us hidden,” said Eleni. “A protection.”
“Could it save us?” said Iren, her shoulders sagging again, her show of bravery easing back into a frightened young girl. “They are saying such
things. About what is out there.”
“It might,” said Eleni. “But I am no coward.”
“But they're going to kill you, aren't they?” said Iren tearfully. “Like the others. They were gods, too, and they just took them like they were nothing.”
“I cannot think of such things,” said Eleni.
“But I must,” said Iren, almost in a whisper. “I can't go back to the way things were. You've showed me how life can be. I can hold my own bow, I can hunt, I can take care of myself. What will happen if you are killed by these vile creatures? I cannot get married. Not any more.” Tears fell down her face as she looked at Eleni pleadingly. “Please,” she said. “I cannot go back.”
Eleni frowned in confusion. “Then do not,” she said.
“Do not what?” said Iren.
“Do not go back,” said Eleni. “You have the skills you need to leave this place. Why should you live under the rule of a man who will not care for you? It is best to be alone.”
“You're not alone,” said Iren. She flinched away from Eleni.
Eleni froze and stared at the girl. Finally she shook her head. “It is not the same. I'm not...” she couldn't finish the sentence. She straightened her dress and began to fasten the ties. “It is not the same,” she repeated. “I only stay so I can find my mother.”
“So you wouldn't bother with Grandmother if you were on your own?” said Iren. “With Fin?”
Eleni took a step toward the girl until her face was a breath away. She could feel Iren quivering in her presence. She could feel her terror. But the girl still stood, not shrinking away, looking wide-eyed at Eleni.
“I do not know what you wish me to do,” said Eleni tautly. “There is no other way.”
“You could run,” said Iren. “We could leave here, all of us. We could find another place, away from these horrible woods.”
