Loki's Gambit, page 29
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
“Better?” he whispers.
Tilting her head, Amy, says, “You know, if you’re naturally blue, because you know, you’re an alien—it’s okay. I don’t mind, it’s kind of —”
Wrapping his hand around the hilt of Lævatein he clenches his teeth. “I’m not blue!”
She jumps back.
Closing his eyes, he says, “I’m sorry. I’m...I’m just hungry.” And it’s true now.
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll just clean up. I mean, you can go if you want...”
He takes a deep breath and tries to look benign. “Actually, I would prefer your company. I get rather bored eating alone all the time.” And that is also true.
“Oh, okay,” she says. “Just a minute.”
He smiles as kindly as he can and walks to the corner of the lab and stares at the window. It’s dark now, and he sees little beyond his own reflection. His ginger hair is back, his eyes are light blue.
Cera swirls around him. “What happened? I thought you’d left...Did you learn anything?”
“Dah,” he mutters under his breath.
Humans have access to Vanir magical devices and have adapted Vanir species to their own technology. But how?
He narrows his eyes at the mist. The Vanir are after the World Seed.
Chapter Four
The night is cooler when they leave the restaurant in Little Italy. Loki’s hunger is sated, but he feels a growing prickle of worry. The Vanir are coming. They have to be...and he can do nothing about it.
Thankfully, Amy has been asking interesting questions that have kept Loki at least partially distracted. Questions like why Loki hasn’t managed to bring hundreds of exotic germs to Earth and wiped out half the population by now; and why Earth germs haven’t affected him. The answer to both, is, of course—magic! Magical creatures predominantly get magical diseases, that humans are immune to, and vice versa.
Now, as Amy wraps her arms around her she says, “When we create virtual images with computers, it takes a lot of computing power. I can kind of imagine how you turn magical energy into light to create illusions...But how can you maintain the illusion without focusing on it?”
Pleased with the question, he says, “Well, there you’re wandering from science into philosophy.”
“No, no, I think we crossed that line long ago,” says Amy.
He raises an eyebrow. “Fair enough.” They are talking about something she can’t see, hear or touch. Still, it’s nice to talk about science and magic without being accused of being deviant and argr, unmanly.
Holding out a hand, he lets an illusion of flame shoot up. “At first you need concentration, but at a certain point, magic itself takes over.” He pretends to catch the imaginary flame, gives it the shape of an owl, and sets it upon Amy’s shoulder.
“Oh,” she says, eyes widening, but she doesn’t shriek or shirk away.
Loki scratches the imaginary fire owl behind its illusory ear and begins to walk again, letting the owl remain on Amy’s shoulder. She grins at it, her eyes alight with undisguised wonder.
He looks down the dark street. “The belief held by Hellbendi, the most prominent of the magical scholars, is that magic wants to be used, that in using it, we give it access to a larger consciousness it wishes to be part of. We give it purpose, an outlet, and in return, it keeps our imagination in motion.”
“That sounds like a whole lot of conjecture that can’t be tested,” says Amy, scowling a little.
“You humans haven’t figured out how gravity works, but you know that it does,” Loki counters.
Amy perks up; her eyes widen. “Do you know how it works?”
Loki blinks. “No. Most of our science is wrapped up in the workings of magic. In some ways we are even further behind your species in understanding the basic mechanics of the unive —”
He feels a buzz of electricity beneath his skin and stops. The fire owl, figment of his imagination that it is, hops to his shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” asks Amy.
Loki looks to their right. Across the street there is a park with a large black statue of a man in Renaissance-esque attire standing atop a fountain. Around the statue are three large embankments of concrete, filled with plants and trees.
Loki’s eyes narrow. He feels the bend and curl of magic. His eyes dart to the red mist of Cera snaking through the trees. She feels it, too.
The magic feels tethered to a consciousness; it is the same sort of energy he feels near a World Gate, but shifting and flickering. His eyes widen. Is someone creating a new branch of the World Tree? It’s something he’s only seen Hoenir do; Loki can’t manage it himself.
He looks at the terrain. The embankments form a fence of sorts between the statue and the parkland beyond. And between them are openings that function as gates. World Tree branches are drawn to human gateways...
There is also a fence about 100 paces away beyond a small copse of trees. It surrounds a field. There are two openings in the fence that he can see from here. He closes his eyes and sends his consciousness around the park. There are three more gates about another 600 paces to the northeast, east and southeast.
He scowls. Fantastic. Loki can only destroy a branch with his physical form, he can only destroy a branch after it materializes, and there are 6 places where the branch is likely to emerge.
Someone is coming. His jaw tenses. The Vanir. They won’t want Earth—they were the first to believe in non-interference with mortals. But they will want Cera, and then Asgard, back.
He puts his hand on Lævatein’s pommel. They can’t have Cera, and only he is allowed to take Asgard.
Loki's mouth falls open as he has a sudden realization. He does have a small army at his beck and call.
“Call Steve, Amy,” Loki says, eyes still on the forest.
“I didn’t bring my phone,” she says. “They can track it.”
Loki scowls and hands her the temporary phone he picked up downtown.
She stares at it. “Uh, no, you know, they can worry about me for a little while. I don’t like thinking about my boss unless I’m getting overtime pay.”
“Overtime pay?” says Loki, looking quickly to the gathering magic and then back to her.
“You know, work that’s above and beyond 40 hours a week...The FBI gives it to its hourly workers; they give danger pay, too.”
Loki stares at her, and then turns his head to the magic. He has a few minutes...
Struck by inspiration he smiles. He can quash the Vanir or anything else that comes through this gate and repay his debt to Amy.
Thrusting the phone in her face he says, “Dial Steve!”
It’s close to 9:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, and the brownstone-lined street of the residential section of Little Italy is very quiet. Steve checks the sky. Not a raven in sight.
Aside from Steve, Bryant and his brother Brett, the street outside of Amy Lewis’ apartment is empty. Generally, the FBI does not tolerate cronyism, and having a pair of brothers in the same department would never fly. But ADUO is special. Not in a good way. In Brett’s words it’s special in a “hold the place together with spit, bubble gum and duct tape” kind of way. Steve’s working on fixing that, but he’s dealing with layers of bureaucracy, and getting to the surface will take time—even with a slowly growing ball of something nasty under Chicago’s Board of Trade.
“She just disappeared again,” Bryant is saying.
“Yep,” says Brett. Steve has never heard Brett say more than Yep or Nope, but when it comes to making tech work with spit, bubble gum and duct tape, he and Bryant are both masters. Brett came out here to test a more sensitive magic detector.
Bryant shakes his head. “We kept up with her until she cut through the neighbor’s lot there. Couldn’t quite see her behind the building, tried to move into position. And then —”
“Poof.” Brett says in a dry voice. Drawling in the same West Virginia twang as Bryant, he adds, “I don’t think this detector is as sensitive as Ericson makes it out to be.” He holds up something that looks more like a radar gun. “Maybe I can reread the manual and make some special modifications myself.”
Steve blinks. Those are as many words as he’s ever heard Brett say.
“Witness protection program,” says Bryant. “Really, you have to convince her.”
Bryant, on the other hand, never shuts up. Steve is spared the rest of Bryant’s commentary by his phone ringing.
He glances down at the unfamiliar number. He picks up. “Agent Steve Rogers here.”
Loki’s voice rings in his ear. “Steve, so lovely to hear your voice.”
“Where is she, Loki?” Steve says. Bryant and Brett move closer.
“Where are you?” Loki’s voice says. And then from behind him he hears more clearly. “Oh, look, I found you.”
Steve turns. Brett and Bryant immediately draw their weapons.
Loki just rolls his eyes. He is in a suit, as seems to be the usual. Narrowing his eyes, he steps toward them. “I’ve had a lovely time with Ms. Lewis tonight, and I think she’ll have lots of interesting things to tell you.” He smiles tightly. “And she should be compensated for such.”
Steve tilts his head. “Why?”
Loki gives him a tight smile. “Because your organization offers danger pay. And I think we can all agree, I am dangerous.” He raises an eyebrow.
“That’s true,” Bryant mutters.
Loki lifts an eyebrow at him and then turns his eyes to Steve. “Also, you’re about to have visitors from another realm. I’m guessing Vanaheim. Most likely hostile. If you move quickly we’ll be able to intercept them.”
“What? Where?” says Steve.
“Danger pay,” says Loki, face expressionless. “For every moment I am with Miss Lewis henceforth.”
“Fine!” says Steve.
Leveling his eyes at Steve, Loki says, “Call back up.”
“Bryant,” says Steve.
“On it.”
Loki closes his eyes. “It’s emerging...Amy says the name of the place is Arrigo Park. The north-west corner, near the statue of Christopher Columbus.”
Loki disappears.
Bryant is barking into a phone.
Brett tilts his head to the east. “That’s a block away but there’s a dead end between us and the park. We’re better off running.”
“Let’s go,” says Steve, pulling out his pistol and hoping the entity known for mischief is playing a bad joke.
Nodding, Brett sets off up the street and Steve follows, Bryant still on the phone behind them.
He’s not even out of breath when Loki and Amy come into view, standing in front of a large statue of Columbus. On Loki’s shoulder is an owl...made of fire. Amy is dressed all in black and looking slightly guilty.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Nothing at all,” says Loki with a cheerful smile. Fixing a death glare on Steve he says, “Agent Rogers is just going to see that you get safely home.”
Steve tilts his head at the implicit command; not that he is going to disagree. Hearing Bryant’s footsteps behind him and the sound of cars screeching to a halt and doors slamming, he says, “Bryant, get Miss Lewis out of here.”
“Right,” says Bryant.
“Loki?” says Amy. He doesn’t answer, but the owl hops to Amy’s shoulder.
What is evidently only an illusion of Loki walks right through her and nods at Steve. “Follow me.” And then the illusion seemingly runs around the statue, past a concrete embankment filled with trees, and heads into a forested area, his suit shimmering and turning into body armor that looks a lot more high tech than anything Steve ever got to wear as a marine; it blends into the trees, and the lawn beyond, lit by streetlights and moonlight. Only Loki’s chin is barely visible beneath a shimmering eye piece—and a long glinting sword at his side.
Steve tilts his head. If Loki is only an illusion, why does he need armor?
He checks the street as Amy and Bryant get into a car. Steve doesn’t see any civilians walking about. Hoping this isn’t a trap, Steve raises his pistol, nods to the four agents beside him and sets off past the statue and into the trees.
Just ahead there’s an opening in a black metal fence. Standing on either side of it is a crowd of Lokis, dressed all the same, all with a sword upraised. There’s a bright flash of light, and a shadow begins to swirl in the gap in the fence. It’s nearly as big as an elephant, but hominid.
“Oh, fuck,” the Lokis say in unison. Steve mentally echoes the sentiment.
The form solidifies. It’s green, gargantuan, and dressed in animal skins. Steve’s about 5 meters away but he can already smell the stench of rotting flesh.
“It’s the Goddamn Incredible Hulk!” says one of the agents.
“It’s a troll,” says Steve grimly. He’s seen them in Merryl’s reports.
“Aim for the eyes,” shouts Loki.
“You heard him!” Steve says. Gunfire goes off around him, and the Lokis are pulling out what looks like knives.
The troll swings at the Lokis. Encountering only empty air, it roars in frustration and begins lunging through the trees toward Steve and his men. Steve and his guys are all excellent shots, but it is very dark beneath the trees, and low hanging branches block their shots. Someone’s bullet hits the troll in the cheek; it pauses for a moment, roars, and then holds an arm up to its eyes.
The agent next to him says, “Sir, I have a shotgun in my car.”
“Get it, and call for more backup!” Steve shouts as he and the other agents fire uselessly at the creature’s raised arm.
Flashes of light halo the troll’s head. And for a moment it drops its arm and begins pulling wicked looking knives from its neck. Nearby there is the sound of a woman screaming. Ripping out the knives the troll looks in her direction.
Steve opens up his Glock; the troll turns its head and snarls as though annoyed by insects. Forgetting about the woman, the troll throws up its arm to protect its eyes again and lunges at Steve.
Seeing civilians at the corner of his vision, Steve dances backwards. “That’s right! Come and get me!”
The troll takes the bait and comes forward, trapping Steve against the embankment wall. Steve’s guys are now at its side, and they won’t be able to get a clear shot at its eyes.
There is the sound of a shotgun firing, the creature lets out a blood curdling snarl. A liquid, thick and tar-like, bubbles from the troll’s shoulder, but it doesn’t turn from Steve. There’s nowhere to run. Steve keeps his pistol upraised, hoping he’ll get a clear shot when the thing inevitably grabs him.
There’s a shimmer of silver on the pavement, the sound of steel on rock, and suddenly at Steve’s feet there is a sword.
“Use it!” screams Loki. Holstering his Glock, Steve scrambles to pick it up. It’s lighter in his hands than the Kumdo swords he’s used to, and the way it catches the light—it’s almost like a light saber.
A huge meaty fist is coming toward Steve’s face. Reflexes born of years of practice kick in and Steve brings the sword down on the troll’s wrist.
There should be the shock of steel impacting against bone. But the blade slices through the troll’s wrist—bone, muscle, tendons, and armor-like skin—as easily as butter. The hand lands on the pavement in front of Steve with a soft thud.
Leaning back, the monster howls. And then there is a shimmer of something from behind it. Steve blinks. Loki is on the troll’s shoulders, over 12 feet above the ground. The troll reaches with its one hand to pull him off but before it does Loki brings two knives into the beast’s eyes; and then Loki slips off, or falls, Steve really can’t see. There is the sound of two nearly simultaneous explosions and two flashes of light and half of the troll’s head is suddenly gone.
In the distance Steve can hear sirens wailing and people screaming.
Panting, blade still upraised, Steve watches the troll fall to the ground. Destroying their brains is just about the only way to kill trolls, the damn things have redundant hearts, and apparently can reattach their limbs.
Steve swallows. Loki killed it. But why?
There are a few Lokis walking around the fallen creature. One of his agents comes forward, presumably to intercept Loki—one of them is real, but Steve holds up a hand and nods in the direction of a crowd of people forming just beyond the park. “Form a perimeter,” he says.
The agents nod and back away, but Brett holds up a phone and raises an eyebrow. A little red light is flashing. He’s begun recording this. Steve nods at him and Brett doesn’t follow the other guys.
The Lokis continue to pace. One of them turns to Steve and says, “This THING should not be here, Steven. Trolls are magical but barely self-aware! It could never create a world gate on its own.” Walking toward Steve, Loki shouts. “What is it doing here?”
“I wish I knew,” says Steve calmly.
The apparition of Loki looks away. “Cera. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Cera.” And then he begins saying something in a language that sounds familiar but Steve can’t place. He looks over to Brett. His agent nods and lifts the phone. Thankfully, this is going on record.
A Loki closer to the troll aims a foot at what remains of its head. There is a wet thud and the sound of bone cracking. “I. Hate. These. Fucking. Things!” Loki says, kicking it over and over.
With a snarl he begins walking toward Steve. “I know about agent Merryl’s adventures in Wyoming, Steven.” He hisses. “You’re going to have a lot more visitors everywhere your precious little prisoner beneath the Board of Trade has been.”
Steve tilts his head, not dropping Loki’s sword. Prisoner? Wait. What? Feeling himself shiver, Steve takes a breath. “Go on.”
Loki rolls his eyes. “And since you still keep her here, Chicago is going to become the grand central station of the worlds.” He smiles. “Luckily you have me. The good guy.”
“Uh-huh,” says Steve as Loki closes the distance between them. With one quick motion Steve could pierce Loki’s heart with his own sword.
Loki looks at the gleaming blade. “Nice work, by the way. What was that...Kumdo?”
Steve blinks. And then suddenly there is an incredibly strong pressure on his wrist and the blade goes hot in his hands. He drops it and it falls to the ground with a clang. Steve feels a gust of wind and then the sword is gone. He looks up and the Loki he was speaking to is still standing there, smirking, of course. “I’ve been known to lend out Laevithin upon occasion,” Loki says. “But I always take her back.”
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