Chaos God 6, page 13
part #6 of Chaos God Series
“Huh,” I breathed. “I guess I didn’t think about your sight as something you had to work at.”
“I was not born with this skill, Levi,” Sylmarie murmured. “I had to train and learn to see.”
I was fascinated by Sylmarie’s past and her journey to become the powerful seeress she was now, but those stories would have to wait for another time.
“What can you tell me about Loki’s children?” I asked
Sylmarie’s dark blue eyes blinked slowly, and she looked at me with an exhausted expression on her face. She sighed with resignation and began to speak, and I listened intently as she confirmed the details Finnern and Wyn had given me about Nari, Hel, Fenrir, and Sleipnir, as well as who their mothers had been. She spoke about her dead lover’s children with a sad voice, and I wondered if she had felt about them as my ladies felt about one another’s future babies.
Freesia and Elora spoke about Shalanna’s and my unborn child like a beloved niece or nephew. I could already pick out moments when Shalanna and Freesia spoke about Elora’s and my child in the same manner. We were a family like I’d never known before, and I got the feeling Sylmarie had loved Loki’s children in a similar way.
“Sleipnir was a good boy,” Sylmarie sighed. “He was well treated by Odin, if for no other reason than he was useful to the Allfather, and Hel did well with her post as guardian of Helheim. She forced the demons of that nightmarish place to obey her. I will never understand how she did it. Fenrir… well, he was who he was.”
“And Nari?” I asked.
“Nari was killed in a senseless and brutal manner,” Sylmarie muttered. “Odin let his passions get the best of him, and it took ages for Loki to forgive him his actions.”
“But he did forgive him?” I asked.
“Eventually, yes,” Sylmarie said, and her expression shifted from sadness to confusion. “Why do you ask me about Loki’s children, Levi?”
I explained to Sylmarie about what Finnern had overheard at the Aesir party, and I watched her dark blue eyes carefully. Her face went from surprise to disbelief, to resentment, and finally, her expression was one of hurt and rejection.
“I…” Sylmarie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water before she forced the words out in a rush. “I know nothing of this.”
“Nothing?” I asked. “Loki didn’t confide in you about a fight he had with Odin? Nothing?”
“No…” Sylmarie shook her head. “I do not understand. What indiscretion could Odin have meant?”
“I assume it wasn’t about you, then?” I asked.
“Odin liked me well enough,” Sylmarie said. “He would seek knowledge from me on occasion, and he never did anything to harm me. We were not especially friendly, but he was cordial with me through the centuries.”
Sylmarie’s sadness turned a bit wistful then, and she smiled like she was remembering a pleasant moment.
“Frigg liked me very much,” the Völva murmured.
“Please, think back,” I murmured as I stepped into the moonlight, and I sat down beside her on the edge of the bed. “Was there any time Loki may have been especially upset with Odin? Or anything he might have said about a betrayal?”
I watched the beautiful seeress for a moment as her face contorted with confusion and frustration once more. Her dark eyebrows knitted together, and her dark blue eyes went fuzzy for a second before she shook her head.
“What is it?” I asked in a hushed tone. “Did you think of something?”
I reached over and laid my hand gently on top of hers on her lap.
“I feel strange,” Sylmarie said the words slowly, and her eyes became unfocused as she stared right through me. “There is a dark spot.”
“What kind of dark spot?” I asked.
“In my memory,” Sylmarie whispered, and her lower lip trembled.
I caressed my finger comfortingly up the tender skin on the inside of Sylmarie’s forearm, and I made my voice as gentle and soft as I could manage.
“Are you sure it’s not possible Loki was involved in blocking your sight from whatever’s in the chasm?” I asked again. “You said–”
Finally, Sylmarie’s dark eyes met mine, and she looked more lost and confused than I ever could have imagined possible. Sylmarie had always been so self-possessed and confident in every conversation and interaction we’d had. Now she looked at me like a lost child as she turned her hand over, and she clasped onto mine like a lifeline.
“Loki would never have hurt me in such a way,” Sylmarie whispered, but fear filled her face as her voice shook.
“From what I’ve heard,” I said tentatively, and I spoke slowly like I would to a wounded dog I was trying to save. “Loki betrayed and hurt just about everybody in his life. He cut all the hair from Thor’s wife’s head. He manipulated anybody and everybody. He was responsible for the death of his half-brother. He’s been at the center of every story I’ve heard, causing trouble, stirring up wars, lying, and hurting everyone around him…”
I paused to let the evidence sink in, and to give Sylmarie a chance to object if she could prove me wrong on my point. The Völva’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked like she wanted to tear down each of my accusations.
“How can you be so sure he didn’t do the same to you?” I asked in a hushed whisper.
It made my heart ache to see the pain on Sylmarie’s face and know I’d been partially responsible for making her hurt. I reminded myself it was Loki who had hurt this beautiful and passionate woman, and it was important to the lives of everyone I knew now to get to the bottom of this.
Sylmarie looked at me with a look of heartbreak, and she shook her head in a barely perceptible way.
“I know how much you loved Loki,” I said in an attempt to comfort her. “I think he wasn’t everything you thought he was. He wasn’t everything he claimed to be, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for that. Loki was a master manipulator. He tricked and lied to everyone.”
Sylmarie pressed her lips together in a thin line, and she pulled her hand gently from mine. It was written all over her face how hurt she was feeling, and I longed to have the ability to wipe it all away.
Silent tears rolled down her pale cheeks, and her chin quivered with grief. Her dark blue eyes were locked on some corner of the floor, and I could see that she was barely holding herself together.
“I’ll let you have some space,” I whispered, and I gave her hand one last comforting squeeze before I quietly left the room.
Walking out of the room made my heart ache, but I knew Sylmarie was too proud and stubborn to break down in front of me. She needed time and space to work through this on her own, and I knew she would come to me if she wanted my support.
Besides, for now, I had to figure out what to do next. I had new details, but I didn’t know what to do with them.
I let my feet lead me blindly forward as a pounding started in the back of my skull, and by the time I reached the bottom of the steps, it was a throbbing spike of pain in my eyeballs.
“Ugh,” I groaned and decided to step outside for a bit of fresh air in the hopes that it would help ease the ache in my head.
The pressure and heat like something was trying to explode out of my mind returned, and I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I didn’t see where I was going, and I just let my body move on autopilot as the streak of clawing pain grew in my forehead.
It felt like someone had pumped five gallons of foam insulation up my sinuses, and it was expanding until my entire head would explode. I half-expected to feel blood and brain matter start dripping from my nostrils as I walked.
All I could do was keep my feet moving and my lungs expanding as I sucked in one sharp breath after the next. After several minutes, the growing pressure in my mind started to ease, and I looked around to find I’d walked most of the way to the Broken Spire.
“Well, shit,” I breathed through my teeth.
I hadn’t meant to walk so far, but I knew I could defend myself in a variety of ways with all the magic I’d learned since the first time I’d explored the Broken Spire. I could summon any of my weapons directly to my hands, or I could shift into any number of forms to flee or defend myself.
Besides, my workers had been coming here regularly to bring supplies, tools, and raw materials back to Castle Levi, and there hadn’t been a single monster or demon sighting since the first two Draugar I’d killed.
I stared at the ghostly-looking spire in the moonlight, and a deep sense of belonging swept over me. I’d only been on Asgard for a short while, but in moments like this, I was reminded how much it truly felt like home, as strange as that was.
Even now, standing alone and looking upon such an ancient reminder of the Aesir and their glory, I felt like I was meant to be right where I was. The notion eased my tension by several degrees, and I drew a deep breath of fresh night air.
I figured as long as I was here, I might as well bring some of the books back from the library. So many of the workers who’d been slowly bringing items back from the Spire had been redirected to assist the dark elves in building their new village, so the work had stalled. The library was only half-emptied at this point, and the piles of books had been building up in every corner of Castle Levi.
It had been decided that once my ladies and I had the opportunity to go through the books, they were free game for everybody else. I’d implemented a bit of a first come, first serve system in regards to divvying out the books, and people were happy to share and trade.
My people would be excited to have a few more tomes to squabble over, and the idea brought a smile to my face, so I walked into the cavernous space of the Broken Spire’s entrance hall.
There were still bits of skeleton scattered in the corners of the massive room, and dust covered most of the surfaces. Broken bits of stone and wooden beams had been shoved to the sides to make walking through the space easier, but I hardly looked around as I made my way over to the grand staircase.
My footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the Spire as I ascended the stairs to the second floor where I remembered the library had been. It looked like my work crews had cleared the debris and skeletons from the corridors, and I walked freely down the hall until I found what I was looking for.
It looked like the books hadn’t been selected in any kind of order so far, and there were gaps of every size on the shelves that had once been packed tight with books. With a sigh, I walked to the fullest shelf and started to pile books into my arms at random. I pulled a dark green leather-bound book from the shelf and started to add it to the pile in my other hand, but the tome slipped out of my fingers and landed on the floor with a dull thud. Dust poofed up from the marble tiles, and I stepped back from the smell of time and death.
As I bent down to pick up the dropped book, a sharp spike of green light flashed behind my eyes.
“Damn it, not again,” I groaned, and I decided I had enough books for now.
The lure of my ladies in my bed was strong now, and I started to walk back down the corridor to leave. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I was dizzy with a forceful surge of déjà vu.
It was like the echoing memory of a dream from long ago, and I felt drawn in the opposite direction. Something tickled at the back of my skull, and I felt the glowing warmth of magic in my mind as it urged me forward.
My hands felt almost numb with the force of it, and I laid the ancient books down on the top step before I could drop them. Then I started to follow the sense of memory, and with every step I took in that direction, my chest eased.
I followed the instinct down the corridor, past where I’d slaughtered the Draugar, and around a corner to a set of stairs I’d never seen before. They weren’t as large as the stairs that led up from the entrance hall, but they were made of the same marble that I could imagine polished to a shine. They led up to a higher floor, and the echoing memory of déjà vu lured me up them.
“Go…” A disembodied whisper that felt more like a gentle breeze sifted around me.
I tried to think of a good reason not to go up those stairs, but there was none to be found. The Broken Spire was silent of movement other than myself, and I remembered Sylmarie’s insistence that I follow my instincts. This sense of déjà vu had never led me wrong so far, and the idea of turning back now felt stupid, so I started up the steps.
There was another long corridor at the top that opened into several of what had once been opulently furnished rooms. Now, they were filled with dusty and dilapidated wooden bed frames and crumbling statues. The sense of déjà vu pulled me to the end of the long corridor, and I stepped into a massive room that smelled like rotting potpourri and time.
Huge cracks ran across the ceiling, and the marble columns that lined the exterior wall were shattered with spiderweb cracks. Two of the columns on the far side of the room had collapsed outward and taken what looked to have once been a wide balcony down with them. There was a broken ledge of marble a few inches wide that extended outside of the Spire, and even from across the room, the drop gave me a hint of vertigo.
There were a few more books scattered across the floor, and what looked like ruby-red curtains had tumbled down from the ceiling at some point. Broken shards of pottery and glass littered the floor, and the whole room looked like it had been shaken apart by an earthquake that would have been a nine on the Richter scale.
The remains of a large and opulent four-poster bed took up the majority of the wall across from the door. Three of the four wooden posts had broken off and were strewn about the floor in dozens of pieces, and only one was still standing upright like a lone soldier on the battlefield. The bedsheets which had once been a crisp white were yellowed with age, and the pillows were covered with dust and bits of debris from the cracked ceiling.
A large painting hung on one wall of a beautiful woman with flowing strawberry-blonde hair in thick waves. Her eyes were a calm blue, and her small smile reminded me of the Mona Lisa’s little smirk. She was clothed in long silk robes in a beautiful shade of sky blue, and she wore a simple gold crown on top of her head. Behind her there were rolling green hills and a lush garden that was shockingly similar to the gardens I’d dreamed about early on in my time on Asgard.
I stared at the painting for several minutes as I tried to understand why she seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Then suddenly, a blinding flash of bright green light consumed every bit of my field of vision.
I was nearly taken to my knees by the intensity of it as the pressure in my mind returned once more. The expanding pressure filled my brain, and it felt like a soda can that had been shaken to the point of bursting. I clamped my hands around my head like I could keep my skull from exploding outward, and I dropped to my knees.
“Aaah,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
“What have I done?” a strong male voice boomed inside my head, and somehow, at the same time, it murmured softly in my ears.
It was as if I was hearing the voice in real time and in my memory all at once, and the double echo made me dizzy.
“Perhaps he was right,” the voice said, and he sounded distraught. “Perhaps I have gone too far.”
“My love,” a gently lilting female voice replied in a comforting tone. “You had no other choice.”
“I have betrayed my son, Frigg,” the male voice replied in a tone that crumbled with heartache like dried-out mud.
“Holy fuck,” I gasped.
Chapter 10
The pressure and pain in my mind started to ease as the voices began to repeat the short conversation. It was like an old record skipping, and the two voices kept going back and forth. The man was racked with regret as the woman tried to comfort him.
The longer I listened to the voices, the more sure I was that they’d belonged to Odin and Frigg. It was the most logical conclusion based on the facts I’d compiled so far, and I was in their old bedchamber.
Who else would be having such a conversation in the privacy of the Allfather’s bedroom?
Now that my head felt a little more steady, I was able to push myself to my feet, and I started to look around. The voices felt so tangible, like I would look around a corner and Odin and Frigg would be standing there in a heartbroken embrace.
“Where are you…” I muttered to myself.
I started to search around the room, even though I had no idea what I was looking for. There was an instinctual drive in my mind that the voices would continue to echo in my head until I found the source, and I was determined to follow my instincts.
It was like playing a morbid game of Marco Polo as I looked around the debris of the room. I inspected the broken bookshelf and quickly sorted through the ripped and bent books that remained. I walked over to the non-existent balcony that had broken off and crashed to the ground far below. I lifted the yards and yards of curtains that covered the floor.
But I couldn’t find the source of the voices.
I started to wonder if I was finally going insane. Hearing voices wasn’t exactly reassuring to people on Earth, but I reminded myself this was Asgard. I’d learned that hearing voices was a fairly common occurrence here.
It was way more likely there was something magical going on here rather than I was in need of a straightjacket and a padded room, so I kept looking for something.
“No idea what the fuck I’m looking for, though,” I grumbled to myself.
The moonlight was flowing into the room, and it cast everything in cold white light. I decided to try to steady and refocus my mind, so I stood in the center of the large room, and I faced the bright moonlight.
“Odin, Frigg…” I breathed.
The voices continued to repeat the same words, but the direction of the conversation seemed to narrow down to a more finite location.
“My love,” Frigg murmured again. “You had no other choice.”
“I have betrayed my son,” Odin replied.
