Loki's Gambit, page 91
part #1 of I Bring the Fire Series
Necessary courtesies drain away more precious minutes, and then Loki gives the king the same lie he gave the courtier. When Loki is finished, Billings says, “Old woman, your sister is already with my daughter. She warned me not to disturb them.”
Loki smiles as kindly as he can manage, and says, “Your Highness, she meant you, not me, her kin.”
Billings accepts that easily enough. The king leads Loki to a wide corridor and then stops. “Her chambers are at the end.” Eyes still on his daughter’s door, the king says, “It’s quiet at last…” He swallows. “She is delusional. Paranoid. She imagines the Allfather himself has come to claim her. She sees his face in the faces of her suitors…and even screamed at first at the presence of your sister…I was almost too fearful to leave my daughter alone with her.”
Loki feels his jaw go slack. And then shakes himself. Odin does not have to stoop to force to get what he wants. Perhaps the girl carries Odin’s child and has concocted some elaborate tale to hide her part in her loss of virtue?
Walking as quickly as he dares in his guise as an old woman, Loki reaches the end of the corridor and tries the princess’s door. It’s locked. His skin prickles as he draws some dwarven tools from his cuffs. He feels like time is rushing by, even though it only takes him a few seconds to open the lock and slip into the room.
Princess Rind’s chambers are deathly silent, and darker than the hallway. Odin’s voice cuts through the gloom. “Hag! What are you doing here?”
Shutting the door, Loki allows his illusion to drop and lets a flame dance from his hands to the sconce on the wall.
Beyond a bed where Rind lies bound, her head listing to the side, he sees Odin, sitting naked on a chair, legs crossed.
“Loki, what are you doing?” Odin says. He sounds annoyed but not particularly angry.
Loki’s eyes fall to the bed. Rind’s clothes are torn open. Blood stains the bed between her thighs. Loki’s jaw drops and then he catches himself. It’s a lover’s game. It must be. Loki has been asked to play such games—and Loki has asked Sigyn to truss him up much the way Rind is now.
He takes a step closer, and then another. Rind does not move or make any sign that she is aware of his presence.
“Why are you here, Loki?”
“Hoenir…was concerned,” Loki says, unable to meet Odin’s gaze. He draws closer to Rind. Her eyelids don’t even flutter.
Odin snorts. “Hoenir and his silly notions. It’s not like…”
Loki lifts his gaze sharply.
Standing, Odin says, “They’re women. They’re made for this.” Odin turns and his voice grows louder and angry. “And yet she refused me!”
Loki lowers his head so his face is just inches from Rind’s. “She’s unconscious.”
Odin shrugs. “I did not want to hurt her. I want her to bear me a son. She is the second strongest enchantress in Jotunheim.”
A flame leaps to life on a carelessly tossed-aside bed covering, a twisting, bright after effect of the churning in Loki’s gut. Mimir was right. Loki is too late.
Odin makes a sound of exasperation, waves a hand, and the flame extinguishes.
Loki stands rooted to the spot. He has seen scenes like this before after battles. He understands it’s a show of dominance. But to Loki, when you’ve razed a village to the ground, and have the inhabitants on their knees with blades to their necks, rape just seems petty, the perpetrators, bullies.
He looks at Odin standing naked and unashamed at the foot of the bed. The guilt he’d felt minutes before, the flutterings of respect for his mentor, they both vanish. Looking at Odin, for the first time, instead of seeing a powerful warrior, sorcerer, and ruler of the Nine Realms, Loki sees a weak old man.
“How could you?” Loki says, and he doesn’t know if he means what Odin’s done to Rind, or what he’s done to Loki. He feels centuries of respect and admiration are slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass.
“I need another son!” Odin spits. “And Frigga’s womb is as conducive to life as your—”
Loki takes a step back, his arms trembling at his sides—the way Hoenir had trembled.
Rolling his eyes, Odin says, “I sometimes forget how sickeningly sentimental you always are. When you fuck, you just want them to like you, don’t you?” His lip curls. “Because in most other respects, no one wants anything to do with you.”
Still trembling, Loki takes another step back.
Waving a hand, Odin says, “Be off with you. I think I’d like to go for another round.”
The old man walks toward the bed and the woman who may as well be dead. Loki can’t watch, and can’t leave. “No!” Loki shouts.
Flames leap in the curtains, and in the bedclothes, on the chair, and on a rug upon the floor. Rind does not stir. Backing off the bed, Odin’s lip curls. “Are you trying to burn her alive?”
“Andvaranaut!” The name tumbles from Loki’s lips. He suddenly remembers the story—of Lothur, or was it Lopt? One of them found the cursed ring Andvaranaut, and Odin had touched it briefly. In the stories, to rid himself of the ring’s taint, Odin had slept with a virgin, willing or unwilling, every night for a year. Loki had always thought those were just stories. The flames in the room spark higher.
Odin spares him an angry glare. He raises his arms, and the flames still. But then they rise up again.
Cursing, Odin illusions his guise of a medicine woman around him and begins freeing Rind from her bonds. The hag that is Odin snaps at Loki. “Are you going to help me or let her die?”
Loki can only stare. Odin has Rind untied and in his arms before Loki regains himself. Creating the illusion of a medicine woman, Loki goes forward to help, but Odin grunts and pulls Rind away.
With a sharp nod from Odin, the door flies open. “Fire!” Odin calls, his voice shrill and crackling like an older woman.
Guards come running, King Billings at the lead. As Odin drags Rind from the room, he says, “The room was cursed, we cleansed it with flame. Visions of the Allfather will haunt the girl no more.”
King Billings takes the still unconscious form of his daughter from Odin’s deceptively frail-looking arms without question or comment.
Loki can only gape.
As the guards slip into the room to extinguish the fire, Odin turns to Loki. In his hag guise, one of Odin’s eyes is brown, the other is blue. The brown eye slips sideways as the blue eye fixes on Loki. “Remember, you were the one who nearly killed her. I was the one who saved her and gave her a son.”
Loki backs up until his back connects with one of the stone walls, still cold despite the flames in the princess’s quarters.
Odin waves a hand and disappears.
Across from Bohdi, Amy slides to the floor of Thor’s chariot. Bohdi wants to follow her lead, to sit on the floor, tuck his knees up to his chin, stuff his cold fingers into the pocket of his coat, and sleep. He stifles a yawn. He barely got any sleep the night he spent with Frieda, and only grabbed an hour or so at most on the ground before nightfall. Being in Nornheim is kind of like the last weeks of infantry training, but without the occasional grenade blast and gunfire to keep you awake.
If he just sits down for a moment…
Amy pulls herself up sharply and yells at Thor. “You know he’ll take advantage of her, Thor! You have to know about Rind! And after Andvaranaut. How many girls did he attack then? How many? A few dozen? A few hundred?”
The fog of exhaustion in Bohdi’s brain clears. His skin heats and his fingers fumble with his lighter. It takes him a moment to realize he’s shaking.
Turning to Amy, Thor roars, “Stories! Stories only!” Every inch of Bohdi’s skin feels like it is being poked by pins and needles. The chariot bounces, as though a barometer of Thor’s anger. Bohdi barely manages to hold on.
The chariot swerves as Thor shouts, “The Allfather respects women enough to let them fight alongside men as equals!”
“Women shouldn’t have to be warriors to be respected!” Amy yells.
Bohdi thumbs the wheel on his lighter. He’s only half baiting her when he says, “Why only women?” No one, man or woman, who’s not gung-ho should have to go through fucking bloody boot camp.
Over Thor’s shoulder, Bohdi sees Amy’s eye go wide. She puts a hand to her mouth. “Oh. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said it like that.”
Bohdi blinks. She didn’t ignore or contradict him.
Thor gives a loud snort.
Amy’s eyes narrow. Her ponytail is whipping furiously in the wind, the sun is rising beyond her, haloing her head with light and…are those butterflies? Bohdi leans forward, mesmerized by the tiny delicate shapes fluttering beyond Amy.
Thor grunts, the chariot shakes, and Amy gives an exasperated sigh. “Be honest, Thor. If Loki were a woman, would you trust your father with her?”
Thor glowers at her, and then turning abruptly, stares silently ahead. Bohdi’s jaw twitches at the unspoken answer. He remembers the way Skírnir spoke about Gerðr, and other rumors he’s heard about what the Asgardians do to their conquests. The edges of his vision darken. His mouth opens with something sharp at the tip of his tongue, something that will really get Thor worked up, but then the chariot shakes with such force that Amy slips and falls, and Bohdi barely keeps his feet.
Bohdi glares up at Thor. His eyes slide to Amy. She’s pulled herself back up, but she seems to have given the debate a rest.
Standing at the helm, Thor is taking deep breaths, like he’s trying to calm himself. Bohdi can’t help noticing that the chariot’s course becomes smoother.
Bohdi fumes; if he wants to survive, he may have to hold his peace. His fingers thump against his lighter.
He looks back to Amy, the butterflies behind her catching his eyes again. They seem larger now. Their wings are every shade of pink, baby blue, lavender, and soft yellow. But how can butterflies fly so high? Maybe he is hallucinating? He squints. No, they’re real, but they aren’t butterflies, their wings are shaped more like birds. What kind of birds fly at this altitude? Raptors maybe? They there are no landmarks at this height to help ascertain distance, but whatever these flying creatures are, they’re appearing larger with each passing minute.
He blinks at the birds. As they draw closer, the wings become brighter colored. Are those claws on the wings? “Um…” says Bohdi.
Eyes on Thor, Amy says, “I’m just asking you to consider that maybe Asgard might not be the best place for Loki…man or woman.”
Bohdi leans sideways to see better around Thor’s huge hulking form. The raptors, or whatever they are, have reptilian bodies, covered in brilliant red, yellow, and blue scales…or are those feathers? The creatures look the size of hawks maybe. Probably not dangerous but… “Um…Thor…” says Bohdi.
The big man grunts, eyes straight ahead.
Bohdi clears his throat. The raptor things seem to be picking up speed, and they’re bigger than any hawk he’s ever seen. Bohdi’s heart stops. No, they’re not raptors. “Thor!” Bohdi shouts.
Hand going to Mjolnir, Thor turns toward Bohdi. The chariot lurches at the same time. Lifting a hand, Bohdi points beyond Thor’s shoulder. Thor’s head whips around again. It is at that moment that Mr. Squeakers, oddly quiet through most of the trip, decides to peek his head out the collar of Amy’s coat.
Thor screams. “A spidermouse!” The chariot lurches, and Thor backs into Bohdi so fast, Bohdi almost falls over the side. He only manages to stay in by hanging onto Thor’s cloak.
Amy’s face flushes, and as soon as the chariot rights itself, she captures Mr. Squeakers in her hand. “He won’t hurt you!” she says, putting Mr. Squeakers in her pocket.
“How can you be sure?” says Thor.
Still clutching Thor’s cape, Bohdi’s eyes go beyond the space Viking and Amy. He gulps. Pushing Thor off of him, Bohdi shouts. “Forget the mouse! Pay attention to the dragons!”
Thor’s gaze shifts upward, and he lifts Mjolnir with a mighty yell. Clouds begin to form, as five dragon-like creatures come barreling toward the chariot. Each is about the size of a minivan. They have powerful hind limbs with long, sharp claws and lizard-like tails with a sharp points at the end. Every time their brilliantly colored wings flap, Bohdi feels it on his cheeks.
Thor points Mjolnir in their direction and a bolt of lightning tears off the hammer. The dragons dodge, barely slowing their onslaught.
“They look like giant Archaeopteryx!” Amy says.
“Get down!” shouts Thor, pushing Amy’s head down and firing another blast of lightning from his hammer. One of the dragon’s wings is sheared at the tip by the blast; it teeters in the air and begins to fall. Halting their forward momentum, the dragons hover in the air and let loose ferocious screams.
The hairs on the back of Bohdi’s neck stand on end as he gets a good glimpse at their glistening teeth, that even from this distance seem to be oozing thick, shiny saliva. The creatures’ heads draw back, their jaws snap shut, Thor thunks down his visor, and on instinct Bohdi dives to the floor.
Something hits the side of the chariot, throwing it off course, and sending Bohdi rolling into Amy. She has her hands over her head, but when Bohdi collides with her, she lifts her eyes and asks, “Are you okay?” Bohdi can only stare at her open mouthed.
More lightning rips from Thor’s hammer, thunder booms with such force the chariot floor reverberates beneath Bohdi’s fingers. The dragons scream again. Bohdi catches a glimpse of something green and oozing slinking down the edge of the chariot wall behind Amy’s back.
“Look out,” he says, pushing her to the side. Her messenger bag had been behind her, and whatever the gooey stuff is lands on the bag and then begins to sizzle.
“Acid? They spit acid!” Amy squeaks, reaching up to clutch the side of the chariot where Bohdi had been standing seconds before.
Eyes still on the ooze, Bohdi reaches for the wall, for a handhold. “I…”
Thor shouts, lightning blazes from Mjolnir, thunder roars, and the dragons scream again. The chariot is hit four times in rapid succession by bolts of acid saliva. The vehicle spins wildly from the blows, and Bohdi slips backward over the edge. For a fleeting instant, he’s horizontal in the air, staring down at one of those brilliant white canopies that cover the trees. For a heartbeat, he thinks he’s flying, and then his body swings downward. Pain shoots from his fingertips, and more pain races through his wrist. It’s only then that he realizes he’s still hanging on to the lip of the chariot by his fingertips, and Amy has grabbed his wrist with one hand, her nails biting into his flesh.
Lightning flares in the air, thunder booms, and dragons wail. Gritting his teeth, Bohdi tries to pull himself up. He can do this. Even if he doesn’t usually do pull ups with the tips of his fingers, he’s still in shape. Steve’s always dragging him to the gym, and Amy’s pulling him, and…
The chariot abruptly shoots upward. The pressure on Bohdi’s fingers increases, and he loses his hold completely. His heart stops. He thinks he’s lost, but then he feels the bite of Amy’s nails again and realizes he’s dangling in her grasp. His eyes go to Amy. She’s gritting her teeth and pulling with all her might, but he can see her hand hold on the chariot wall slipping. He wants to shout to let go of him, and at the same time wants to beg her to hang on.
“I won’t let you go!” Amy screams, and Bohdi’s not sure if he said anything out loud.
Thor’s eyes slide to Bohdi. He looks down and past him, and his eyebrows go up. Bohdi follows his gaze and sees one of the dragons is at his level, coming straight for him, snapping its jaws.
The chariot drops straight down, and Bohdi is staring mercifully at only empty air.
“Thor!” Amy shouts. “I can’t pull him…”
“A little longer!” Thor shouts, letting loose a bolt of lightning that shears another dragon’s wing. The beast tumbles from the sky, and the three other dragons draw back a little further as the chariot continues to plunge. Body swinging, feet helplessly flailing in the air, Bohdi looks down. The white canopy below is rapidly getting closer. Thor gives a shout, and the chariot stops its downward descent with a jolt.
The shock dislodges Amy’s hand from the chariot wall and Bohdi’s weight drags her toward the edge. Time seems to stop. He’s staring at her wide blue eyes. Her lips part in a gasp. His heart sinks. The moment is backward and wrong, he’s supposed to be saving the girl, not getting the girl killed, and he doesn’t know why he thinks that. Is it something from his forgotten past, or something he learned in the States, or just an instinctive law of guydom?
“Let me go!” Bohdi tries to shout, but it comes out more of a whine. Her body inches farther forward, his heavier weight drawing her down, but she doesn’t heed him. He feels something like anger twisting in his chest. How can she do this? How can she make him responsible for her death? He can’t even fight for fear it will pull her over the edge.
Thor turns and leans down, his hand almost on Amy, when a bolt of oozing green comes shooting toward them. “Thor!” Bohdi screams.
Cursing, Thor hits the chariot’s equivalent of the accelerator. Amy flies toward Bohdi, and then she and Bohdi are suspended in midair. Their eyes meet briefly, and Bohdi is hit by a horrible all-encompassing sense of failure. Then dragons scream, a shadow passes over them, and they fall.
Chapter Seven
A light at the bottom of Steve’s computer screen blinks, and Steve hits accept. Beatrice’s plucky countenance appears in the video feed. “Okay, Steve, I’m going to put her on.”
Steve nods, and then Gerðr’s face appears on the screen, pretty, but not excessively so. Also, she needs a haircut. Steve sighs, and smiles. “It’s working, Beatrice.”
Beatrice pokes her gray head over Gerðr’s shoulder and gives the thumbs up sign. “Now I don’t have to translate your science!” Beatrice says, and vanishes from the screen. Gerðr stares at Steve, looking slightly confused.
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